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snelbz · 4 years

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What Happens In Vegas... {6}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

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“Hey.” Rhys padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I’d planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Nothing much. There was a delivery for you.” I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day, I’d pondered the problem of us. The only thing I’d come up with was that I didn’t want our time to end. I didn’t want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted to try with Rhys. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.

The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I’d gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the shore and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I’d played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I’d picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I’d tried damn hard to remember all of it.

“A delivery?” He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.

“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I asked.

“Feyre, you don’t need to ask. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks.” Joey and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the butt-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.

“This one’s for you.” He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I’d never heard of printed on the side. “Ah, this one too, by the look.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I asked Amarantha to order some stuff for us.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? No.” Rhys shook his head. Then he kneeled down in front of me and tore into the brown package in my hands. “No ‘oh.’ We need clothes. It’s really simple.”

“That’s very kind of you, Rhys, but I’m fine.”

He wasn’t listening. Instead he held up a red dress the same thigh-baring length as those girls at the mansion had worn. “What the fuck? You’re not wearing this.” The designer dress went flying, and he ripped into the shopping bag at my feet.

“Rhys, you can’t just throw it on the ground.”

“Sure I can, I paid for it. Here, this is a little better.”

A black tank top fell into my lap. At least this one looked the right size. The thigh-high red dress had been a size-two joke. Quite possibly a mean one, given Amarantha’s dislike of me back in LA. No matter.

A tag dangled from the tank. The price. Shit. They couldn’t be serious.

“Whoa. I could pay my rent for weeks with this top.”

In lieu of a response he threw a pair of skinny black jeans at me. “Here, they’re okay too.”

I put the jeans aside. “It’s a plain cotton tank top. How can this possibly cost two hundred dollars?”

“What do you think of this?” A length of silky blue fabric dangled from his hand. “Nice, huh?”

I ignored his question, still staring at the tank in my hand. “Do they sew the seams with gold thread? Is that it?”

“What are you talking about?” He held up the blue dress, inspecting it closer, turning it this way and that. “Hell no, nevermind, it’s backless. The top of your ass will probably show in that.” It joined the red dress on the floor. My hands itched to rescue them, fold them away nicely. But Rhysand just ripped into the next box. “What were you saying?”

“I’m talking about the price of this top.”

“Shit, no. We’re not talking about the price of that top because we’re not talking about money. It’s an issue for you, and I’m not going there.” A micromini denim skirt came next. “What the fuck was Am thinking ordering you this sort of stuff?”

“Well, to be fair, you do normally have girls in bikinis hanging off you.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “In comparison, the backless dress is quite sedate.”

He kept digging through the bags, but he looked up at me again. “You’re different. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I didn’t entirely believe the tone of my own voice.

His forehead wrinkled up with disdain. “Damn it. Look at the length of this. I can’t even tell if it’s meant to be a skirt or a fucking belt.”

Laughter burst out of me and he gave me a hurt look, big, violet puppy-dog eyes of extreme sadness and displeasure. Clearly, I had hurt his heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you sound like my father.” He shoved the micro mini back into its bag. At least it wasn’t on the floor.

“Yeah? Your dad and I should meet. I think we’d get along great.”

I blinked. “You want to meet my father?”

Shrugging, Rhys said, “Depends. Would he shoot me on sight?”

“No.” Probably not.

He just gave me a curious look and burrowed into the next box. “That’s better. Here.”

He passed me a couple of sedate T-shirts, one black and one blue.

“I don’t think you should be selecting nun’s clothing for me, friend,” I said, amused at his behavior. “It’s vaguely hypocritical.”

“They’re not nun’s clothes. They just cover the essentials. Is that too much to ask?” The next bulging bag was passed to me in its entirety. “Here.”

“You do admit it’s just a tiny bit hypocritical, though, right?”

“Admit nothing. Hybern taught me that a long time ago. Look in the bag.”

I did so and he burst out laughing, whatever expression I wore being apparently hilarious.

“What is this?” I asked, feeling all wide-eyed with wonder. It might have been a thong if the makers had seen fit to invest just a little more material into it.

“You said I was dressing you like a nun, so I’m dressing you like a nun.”

“La Chaleur.” I read the tag, then turned it over to check out the price.

“Shit. Will you not look at the price, please, Feyre?” Rhys dove at me and I lay back, trying to make out the figures on the crazily swaying tag that was bigger than the scrap of lace. His larger hand closed over mine, engulfing the thong. “Don’t. For fuck’s sake.”

The back of my head hit the edge of a step and I winced, my eyes filling with tears. “Ow.”

“You all right?” His body stretched out above mine. A hand rubbed carefully at the back of my skull.

“Um, yeah.” The scent of his soap and shampoo was pure heaven, Lord help me. But there was something more than that. His cologne. It wasn’t heavy. Just a light scent of spice. There was something really familiar about it.

The tag hanging down in front of my face momentarily distracted me however. “Three hundred dollars?”

He smirked. “It’s worth it.”

“Holy shit. No, it’s not.” It wasn’t, there was no way it was.

He hung the thong from the tip of a finger, a crazy cool smile on his face. “Trust me. I’d have paid ten times that amount for this. No questions asked.”

“Rhys, I could get the exact same thing for less than a tenth of that price in a normal store. That’s insane.”

“No, you couldn’t.” He balanced his weight on an elbow set on the step beside my head and started reading from the tag. “See, this exquisite lace is handmade by local artists in a small region of southern France famous for just such craftsmanship. It’s made from only the finest of silks. You can’t get that at Walmart, baby.”

My eyebrows bunched together. “No, I guess not.”

He made a pleased humming sound and looked at me with eyes soft and hazy. Then his smile faded. He pulled back and scrunched the thong up in his hand. “Anyway….”

“Wait.” My fingers curled around his biceps, keeping him in place.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice tightening.

“Just, let me…” I lifted my face to his neck. The scent was strongest there. I breathed him deep, letting myself get high off the scent of him. I shut my eyes and tried to remember.

Something. Anything.

“Feyre?” The muscles in his arms flexed and hardened. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“We were in the gondolas at the Venetian. You said you couldn’t swim, that I’d have to save you if we capsized.”

His Adam’s apple jumped. “Yeah.”

“I was terrified for you.”

His chuckle was rough. “I know. You hung on to me so tight I could barely breathe.”

I drew back so I could see his face.

“Why do you think we stayed on them for so long?” he asked. “You were practically sitting in my lap.”

I felt stupid, but I still asked, “Can you swim?”

He laughed quietly. “Of course I can swim. I don’t even think the water was that deep.”

My eyes narrowed. “It was all a ruse. You’re tricky, Rhysand Lunasa.”

“And you’re funny, Feyre Archeron.” His face relaxed, his eyes softening again. “You remembered something.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s great.” He smiled, a true, handsome smile, one that he’d only blessed me with a few times. Anything else?”

I gave him a sad smile in return. “No, sorry.”

He looked away, disappointed, I think, but trying not to let it show.

I hesitated. “Rhys?”

“Mm?”

I leaned forward to press my lips to his, wanting to kiss him, needing to. He pulled back again. My hopes dived. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Feyre. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you?” I thought it was obvious.

He said nothing. Jaw rigid, he looked away.

“You’re allowed to kiss me and cuddle me and buy me insanely priced lingerie and I can’t kiss you back?” My hands slid down to his and he held them. At least he wasn’t rejecting me totally.

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he asked, his voice stern.

I studied our entwined fingers for a moment, getting my thoughts in order. “Rhys, I’m probably not ever going to remember everything about that night in Vegas. But I thought we could maybe make some new good memories this weekend. Something we can both share.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and after a minute, I looked up into his handsome face. “Just this weekend?”

My heart filled my throat. “No. I don’t know. It just… it feels like there’s meant to be more between us.”

“More than friends?” He watched me, eyes intent.

“Yes. I like you. You’re kind and sweet and beautiful and you’re easy to talk to. When we’re not always arguing about Vegas. I feel like…”

His violet eyes were bright. “What?”

I didn’t want to stumble over my words. I didn’t want him to think I was doubting this decision, doubting him. “Like this weekend is a second chance. I don’t want to just let it slip by. I think I’d regret that for a long time.”

He nodded, cocked his head. “So what was your plan? Just kiss me and see what happened?”

I blinked. “My plan?”

He smirked, leaning closer ever so slightly. “I know about you and your plans. You told me all about how you make a plan for everything.”

“I told you that?” I was an idiot.

“Yeah. You did. You especially told me about the big plan.” He stared down at me, eyes intense. “You know… finish school then spend three to five years establishing yourself at a midrange firm before moving up the ranks somewhere more prestigious and starting your own small consultancy business by thirty-five. Then there’d maybe time to get a relationship and those pesky 2.4 kids out of the way.”

My throat was suddenly a dry, barren place. “I was really chatty that night.”

“Mm. But what was interesting was the way you didn’t talk about that plan like it was a good thing.” He looked at me and the way those eyes were looking at me, I couldn’t have hid anything from him, even if I wanted to. “You talked about it like it was a cage and you were rattling the bars.”

I had nothing. He read me like a book and I had no idea what to say.

“So, come on,” he said softly, taunting me. “What’s the plan here, Feyre? How were you going to convince me?”

“Oh. Well, I was, um… I was going to seduce you, I guess. And see what happened. Yeah…”

He snorted. “How? By complaining about me buying you stuff?”

“No,” I said, clearing my throat. “That was just an added bonus. You’re welcome.”

He licked his lips, but I saw the smile threatening to break through. “Right. Come on, then, show me your moves.”

I hesitated. “My moves?”

“Your seduction techniques. Come on, time’s a-wasting.” I hesitated and he clicked his tongue, impatient. “I’m only wearing a towel, baby. How hard can this be?”

“Fine, fine.” I held his fingers tight, refusing to let go. “So, Rhys?”

“Yes, Feyre?”

“I was thinking…”

“Hmm?”

I was so hopelessly outclassed with him. I gave him the only thing I could think of. The only thing that I knew had a track record of working.

“I think you’re a really nice guy and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come up to my room and have sex with me and maybe hang out for a while. If that’s maybe something you’d be interested in doing…”

His eyes darkened, accusing and unhappy. He started to pull back again. “Now you’re just being funny.”

“No.” I slipped my hand around the back of his neck, beneath his damp hair, trying to bring him back to me. I pressed my forehead to his, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “No, I’m very, very serious.”

Jaw tensed, he stared at me.

I breathed, “You asked me this morning in the car if I thought you were scary. The answer is yes. You scare me shitless. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I hate the thought of leaving you.”

His gaze searched my face, but still he said nothing. He was going to turn me down. I knew it. I’d asked for too much, pushed him too far. He’d walk away from me, and who could blame him after everything?

“It’s okay,” I said, gathering what remained of my pride up off the floor, about to grab my Rhys-approved tank, jeans and t-shirts and run upstairs.

“Shit.” He sighed. “You’re kinda terrifying too.”

I breathed, “I am?”

“Yeah, you are. And wipe that smile off your face,” he teased.

I did no such thing. “Sorry.”

He angled his head and kissed me, his lips firm and so good. My eyes closed and my mouth opened. The taste of him took me over. The mint of his toothpaste and the slide of his tongue against mine. All of it was beyond perfect. He lay me back against the stairs. The new bruise at the back of my head throbbed in protest when I bumped it yet again. I flinched but didn’t stop. Rhys cupped the back of my skull, guarding against further injury.

The weight of his body held me in place, not that I was trying to escape. The edge of the steps pressed into my back and I couldn’t care less. I’d have happily lain there for hours with him above me, the warm scent of his skin making me high. His hips held my legs wide open. If not for my jeans and his towel, things would get interesting fast. God, I hated cotton just then.

We didn’t once break the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands curved around his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt this good. My ache for him increased and caught fire, spreading right through me. My legs tightened around him, muscles burning. I couldn’t get close enough. Talk about frustrating. His mouth moved over my jaw and down my neck, lighting me up from inside. He bit and licked, finding sensitive spots below my ear and in the crook of my neck. Places I hadn’t known I had. The man had magic. He knew things I didn’t. Where he’d learned his tricks didn’t matter. Not right then.

“Up,” he said in a rough voice. Slowly he stood, one hand beneath my ass and the other still protecting my skull.

“Rhys, no.” I scrambled to tighten my hold on his back.

“Hey.” He drew back just enough to look into my eyes. His pupils were huge, almost swallowing the iris whole. “I am not going to drop you. That’s never going to happen.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“You trust me?” He asked.

“Yes.” I meant it, too.

“Good.” His hand slid down my back. “Now put your arms around my neck.”

I did, and my balance immediately felt better. Both of Rhysand’s hands gripped my butt and I locked my feet behind his back, holding on tight. His face showed no sign of pain or imminent back breakage. Maybe he was strong enough to carry me around after all.

“That’s it.” He smiled and kissed my chin. “All good?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He simply asked, “Bed?”

“Yes.” I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

He chuckled in a way that did bad things to me. “Kiss me,” he said.

Without hesitation, I did so, fitting my mouth to his. Sliding my tongue between his lips and getting lost in him all over again. He groaned, his hands holding me hard against him.

Which was when the doorbell rang, making a low, mournful sound that echoed in my heart and groin. “Nooo.”

“You’re fucking joking.” Rhysand’s face screwed up and he gave the tall double doors the foulest of looks. At least I wasn’t alone. I groaned and gave him a tight full-body hug. It would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

A hand rubbed at my back, sliding beneath the hem of my tank to stroke the skin beneath. “It’s like the universe doesn’t want me inside you or something, I swear,” he grumbled.

“Make them go away. Please.”

He chuckled, clutching me tighter, but then he groaned and kissed my neck. “Let me answer the door and get rid of them, then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Your towel is on the floor.”

He smirked. “That’s a problem. Down you hop.”

I reluctantly loosened my hold and put my feet back on firm ground. Again the gong-like sound filled the house.

Rhys grabbed a pair of black jeans out of a bag and quickly pulled them on. All I caught was a flash of toned ass. Keeping my eyes mostly averted might have been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

“Hang back just in case it’s press.” He looked into a small screen embedded beside the door. “Ah, man.”

I tensed. “Trouble?”

“No. Worse. Old friends with food.” He gave me a brief glance. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be hurting too.”

“But—”

“Anticipation makes it sweeter. I promise,” he said, then threw open the door. A hand tugged down the front of his T-shirt, trying to cover the obvious bulge beneath his jeans. “Drakon. Miryam. Hey, good to see you.”

I was going to kill him. Slowly. Strangle him with the overpriced thong. A fitting death for a rock star.

A couple about my parents’ age came in, laden down with pots and bottles of wine. The man, Drakon, was tall, muscular, and, surprise, covered in tats. Miryam was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. They both wore wide grins and gave me curious glances. I could feel my face heat when they took in the lingerie and clothing strewn about on the floor. It probably looked like we’d been about to embark on a two-person orgy.

Which was the truth, but still.

“How the hell are ya?” Drakon roared in an accent I couldn’t quite place, giving Rhys a one-armed hug on account of the Crock-Pot he held in the other. “And this must be Feyre. I have to read about it in the damn paper, Rhys? Are you serious?” He gave my husband a stern look, one brow arched high. “Miryam was pissed.”

“Sorry. It was— ah, it was sudden.” Rhys kissed Miryam on the cheek and took a casserole dish and a full bag from her. She patted him on the cheek in a motherly fashion.

“Introduce me,” she said.

“Feyre, this is Miryam and Drakon, close friends of mine. They’ve been taking care of the house for me.” He looked relaxed standing between these people. His smile was easy and his eyes were bright. I hadn’t seen him looking so happy before. Jealousy reared its ugly head, sinking its teeth in.

“Hello.” I put out my hand for shaking, but Drakon engulfed me in a hug.

“She’s so pretty. Isn’t she pretty, hon?” Drakon stepped aside and Miryam came closer, a warm smile on her face.

I was being a jerk. These were nice people. I should be profoundly grateful not every female Rhys knew rubbed her boobs on him. Damn my screaming hormones for making me surly.

“She sure is. Hello, Feyre. I’m Miryam.” The woman’s coffee-brown eyes went liquid. She seemed ready to burst into tears. In a rush, she took my hands and squeezed my fingers tight. “I’m just so happy he found a nice girl, finally.”

“Oh, thank you.” My face felt flammable.

Rhys gave me a wry grin.

“Okay, enough of that,” Drakon said. “Let’s let these lovebirds have their privacy. We can visit another time.”

Rhys stood aside, still holding the casserole dish and bag. When he saw me watching, he winked.

“I’ll have to show you the setup downstairs sometime,” Drakon said. “You gonna be here for long?”

“We’re not sure,” he said, giving me a glance.

Miryam clung to my hands, reluctant to leave. “I made chicken enchiladas and rice. Do you like Mexican? It’s Rhysand’s favorite.” Miryam’s brows wrinkled. “But I didn’t think to check if that was all right with you. You might be vegetarian.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not, and I love Mexican,” I said, squeezing her fingers back, though not as hard. “Thank you so much.”

She let out a release and grinned.

“Hon,” called Drakon.

“I’m coming.” Miryam gave my fingers a parting pat. “If you need anything at all while you’re here, you give me a call. Okay?”

Rhys said nothing. It was clearly my decision if they stayed or went. My body was still abuzz with need. That, and we seemed to do better alone. I didn’t want to share him because I was shallow and wanted hot sex. I wanted him all to myself. But it was the right thing to do. And if anticipation made it sweeter, well, maybe this once the right thing to do was also the best thing to do.

“Stay,” I said, stammering out the words. “Have dinner with us. You’ve made so much. We could never possibly finish it all.”

Rhysand’s gaze jumped to me, a small smile of approval on his face. He looked almost boyish, trying to contain his excitement. Like I’d just told him his birthday had been brought forward. Whoever these people were, they were important to him. I felt as though I’d just passed some test.

Miryam sighed. “Drakon is right, you’re newlyweds.”

“Stay. Please,” I said. Miryam looked to Drakon. Drakon shrugged but smiled, obviously delighted.

Miryam clapped her hands with glee. “Let’s eat!”

#snelbz whiv #vegas au #what happens in vegas #feysand #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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writers-hes · 4 years

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how do you want to spend new years eve?

hello, guys! thank you so much for your support on christmas record! i’ve been getting some requests to continue it and late christmas and i will get to it, after the plans that im currently thinking of! meanwhile, here is a new years-themed fic! if

if you haven’t read the fics mentioned above, you can read them here. if you want to be a part of my taglist, you can do so by reblogging or liking this post.

don’t forget, requests are open! ❤️

warnings: SMUT !!!!! swearing, alcohol + unedited

(it’s my first time writing smut so please leave me some feedback! i love you guys and thank you guys so much for 140+ followers, i love u all!)

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“I can’t do this anymore,”

Words that Harry told you when last year’s New Year’s Eve. Harry didn’t know why he was saying those words, perhaps it was because he wanted to take the young model to bed instead of you. Harry watched you crumble that night, asking what happened, asking if it was your fault. It wasn’t any. In fact, things were going great--so great between the two of you. Perhaps the reason why Harry broke up with you was because for him, distance was the antidote to the love he was feeling. Perhaps he was scared because all of his past relationships never seemed to work out, a sick part of him wanted you not to work out. Heartbreak brings a new writing material, anyway. He felt it at first, how in love he was suddenly being when you combed the stores in London to find his favourite bath gel. It was the little things that you noticed and the little things that Harry’s beating himself up for now.

The year was so great for Harry, releasing his new album and all that. He just had two successful live shows in Los Angeles and in London. People celebrated him wherever he went and he had this rockstar status that you once used to love but he’d just rather be at home with you. He’d rather spend the night with you instead of getting wasted during the afterparties, trying his best to forget the greatest mistake he’s ever done. It was annoyingly painful, how he saw your face in crowds, he knows you weren’t there but he was hoping. One time, strolling in his hometown, Holmes Chapel, he thought he saw you. He ran after you, grasping the arms of the girl in front of him. It wasn’t you--she just looked like you. Seven billion faces in the world and yours was the only face he memorised perfectly. He memorised how you scrunch your nose, how you’d raise your eyebrows, the curve of your lips, the shape of your tongue, and the softness of your eyes.

It wasn’t purposefully, how he never saw if you were off having the best life you could. He was just bored and decided to go on Instagram. He was scrolling through the photos of his friends, even liking some of them when he stumbled upon a picture of you, wearing a shirt he gave you, whilst looking another man in adoration. He bit his lip, making himself believe that that was not his shirt and even if it was, you weren’t looking at another boy--you were looking at him. He lightly tapped on the photo, seeing as you tagged the prick that was in it. He chuckled, it was Leon Harris, a friend of yours that he always found annoying. How come he never recognised him? He saw how this Leon guy was looking at you while you were both dating. He frowned. How long have you been with this Harris prick? It was jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach but at the same time, it was the need to see more of you. He wanted to see how Leon Harris viewed you. Does he see you the way Harry does? Does he kiss you like Harry does? Does he hold you like Harry does? Was he a better man than Harry?

He sighed, scrolling through Leon’s photos. He’s a douchebag. Surely, my angel could do better than this. Harry was irked and irritated. Leon never posted photos of you--he only posted photos of football, gaming consoles, going out with the boys, and unnecessary flexing of his father’s money. Harry was annoyed. He felt his skin prickling with the thought of you being touched by Leon in ways he shouldn’t. That night, he drowned himself in putrid brown liquid. To think, he had all the money he could ever want in the world but still settled for convenience store-grade whiskey. Tomorrow would be a better day.

“Fuck,” he said once he woke up. He remembered the night before, him downing the bottle of whatever shit was in the glass bottle. His head was pounding and he knew that if you were here right now, you would take care of him. He always looked for you, even though he was the one who broke your heart. New Years Eve was coming around and people were already asking him to make an appearance in some parties. He wanted to, he really did but the risk of bumping into you in some of the parties were high. He wasn’t ready to see the face of the woman that haunted him every night for the past year. He lazily walked towards his en-suite, one of the many rooms that smelled like you. He made sure to buy the exact perfume you always wore and spray it around the house. Harry knew that it was unhealthy, holding onto every piece of you when he was the one who decided to end things. He was annoyed at himself and wanted nothing more than to call you but it will only stay like that, a wish. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and to call you because he knew you were hurting. Perhaps you weren’t hurting now, seeing as you were with Leon but maybe you’re still stuck on him, seeing as you were wearing his shirt and a chain around your neck with his heavy ‘H’ ring hanging. Who else was ‘H’ in your life? He couldn’t remember any. As he was taking a shower, he was confused. Was that photograph a sign to call you? Or was it you slapping him in the face because you would never come back to him?

-----

Harry decided to drop by Nick’s NYE party. He never got to see his old friend around and wanted nothing more than to confide in his friend. Nick was your friend too but he always belonged to Harry. He was Harry’s friend first, after all. He might see you there but at least, liquid courage would flow freely into his bloodstream, giving him all the confidence that he needs in order for him to talk to you again.

When Nick learned that Harry was coming to his party, he was ecstatic. It’s been awhile since he last saw Harry and he really missed him. After the break-up, he knew immediately that Harry was broken and in the seams--so were you. Nick invited you to his party, too and you weren’t sure if it was an act of kindness or generosity. Perhaps he was pitying you because all of you and Harry’s mutual friends left you after the break-up, a confirmation that they never really liked you. They only liked to be closer to Harry for his money, fame, and influence. Who wouldn’t want to be near the Harry Styles after all? Still, you knew Nick wasn’t like that. He genuinely liked you after Harry formally introduced the both of you to each other. You were practically joined by the hip whenever Harry was touring and it was nice--it was just you who decided to distance yourself from the friendship when you and Harry broke up, avoiding everything that was related to him.

You had just woken up when Leon knocked at your door. Through your break-up, Leon was there to console you. You tried dating each other but it just didn’t work out--Leon was not Harry and you were not a boy. So instead, you hired Leon to be your assistant, seeing as he was unemployed and was also your friend.

“Y/N if you don’t wake up the fucking door I will break this down!” Leon called from outside. Groggily, you made your way to the door of your London penthouse. You opened the door to reveal Leon, in what he would call an outfit that was out of his comfort zone. You understood, though, seeing as Leon was still inside the closet. The only people who knew he was gay was you and his sprinkling of boyfriends who also happened to be inside the closet. You understood, though. Leon’s family was strict when it comes to homosexuality so he had to act as a straight black boy--always going to the gym, making his Instagram as douche-y as possible, and so one. You felt for him, always asking him if you could do something for him. He would always say no telling you how much your friendship and the job you gave him was enough.

“What do you want?” you asked as you walked to your couch to continue your sleep.

“Remember? Nick Grimshaw is coming in today for a fitting,” Leon reminded. You sighed. You were a designer based in London but because of Harry, you had more artists come at you for designs. That was how you and Harry met, you being introduced by Harry L, his stylist, before his world tour for a couple of suits. He then came to you a few months after, asking for some pieces for his magazine covers and you agreed. Your heart ached at the memory of you and Harry playing with new pieces you came up with. Harry always loved your designs.

“Oh, yeah. Where was it again?” you asked, disoriented because you’d see Nick Grimshaw again. You’d be reminded of Harry again. It wasn’t as if you weren’t reminded of him all the time, though. The burning sensation of his gold ‘H’ ring hanging from your chest every time. It became your source of comfort and it was pathetic how you still held onto it for so long--it’s been almost a year. “It’s here, yeah?” you asked, to which Leon nodded. You nodded as well, limping towards your bathroom to be ready for the day.

“I’ll make coffee!” Leon shouted as you trudged to the comforts of your hot shower.

It was a few hours later when your doorbell rang. Nick’s custom silk pants and denim jacket was laying on your couch, ready to be worn by the celebrity. If it fit him, you’d be focusing on the apliques and the details that he wanted to have--they were quite easy actually. He just wanted to have his name in sparkling red embroidery, almost looking like something inspired from Gucci (Harry’s favourite, your heart hurt) but entirely different at the same time. Leon opened the door as you shuffled back and forth to make sure everything was dandy. “Y/n! Oh, how I missed you so much!” Nick greeted as soon as he saw you flip through the crystals that you would embed on the lining of his pants. You smiled and gave him a hug, to which he returned. He looked at Leon and greeted him as well. Leon only replied with a “hey, man” and if it weren’t for Nick not knowing that Leon was gay (they kissed many months ago), he would think that Leon was your boyfriend. “How are you, Nick?” you asked. “Really doing well but better because you’re coming to my party!” he answered. You frowned in confusion. “I’m not going,” you told him. “Harry would be there and I don’t really wanna see him.” “But Y/N…” he trailed. “It’s been so long since we last hung together! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me,” he pouted. Leon decided to exclude himself from the conversation going straight to the kitchen to get some refreshments for your guest. “Nick--” “Just come on to the party and all will be forgiven,” he cheekily grinned. In reality, he was never really mad at you. He understood why you decided to distance yourself from him but he still likes you as a person and wanted to be your friend. You sighed, nodding to his request. He squealed. “Now, where is it? I wanna fit through my special outfit now,” he said. You motioned him to the pieces lying on the couch. “So you wanted to have something hip and vintage, right? Well, here’s a pair of black silk pants. They would be embedded with diamond Swarovskis on the side. Then,” you trailed looking for the surprise that you wanted to give him. “Ah, here’s a special just for you. I worked on it by myself,” you said, showing Grimmy a large hand-made sewn on patch of his caricature. You also showed him ‘GRIMMY’ in a font quite similar to BBCRadio1 in sparkling red thread.

“Wow--I am floored! These are so good!” he exclaimed, carefully taking the patches from you. He observed them, amazed by how far you went onto the detailing of his face to his favourite shade of red.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “It’s nothing. You’re my friend and I wanted to make your day extra special,” you muttered. “I’ll have them sewn on before the event ASAP so you could get it tomorrow or the next if the blank pieces already fit you or the 30th if there are still alterations to be made,” Nick stood up immediately, trying on the pieces over his current clothes and declared that they were the perfect fit. You smiled at him, appreciating how much he appreciated your work.

“I’m really glad to be your friend, y/n. I know Harry will be there and I know what he did but if you ever need me for anything, just call an old man like me, even if it’s just for a laugh,” he said. “The pants and jacket are a perfect fit, by the way.”

-----------

It was the day of the gruelling New Years Eve party hosted by Harry’s friend--Nick Grimshaw. He wasn’t quite sure if you were coming but just in case, he wore the other half of his iconic ‘H’ ring--the gold Gucci ‘S’ ring on his pinky, the ring you gave him on his ring finger, as if telling you that he was still yours to take, and a couple of rings he bought from all around the world. He also wore a custom polo shirt from you, one that you collaborated on with his mum for his birthday. No designer brand could top off the beauty that he was wearing. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, after you see him tonight, you’d come back to him.

He sighed, anxious to see you—or not. From what he could recall, you distanced yourself from Grimmy. Maybe you rejected his invite, maybe not. Who knows what you were doing anymore? Why should he care? You were with Leon Harris. In his mind, the worst rebound you could ever get. You knew he hated Leon, that prick was a good for nothing douchebag. Harry went over to his collection of liquor, pouring himself a shot of vodka. Who was he to judge your tastes? It was him who broke things off, leaving you with nothing and no one. He knew that your mutual friends sided with him and left you. He groaned as he downed the shot, annoyed at himself. He misses you and he doesn’t know how to take you back.

“Leon, stop!” you groaned as he laid down your revealing party dresses. You were opting for a pair of floral pants and black shirt. Leon, however, disagreed with your choice.

“What? You should show him what he’s missing,” he shrugged.

“There’s nothing to show,” you muttered, taking a red dress off the bed to shut Leon up. You changed, not really minding if Leon was there, seeing as he wouldn’t even think about you that way.

“Look, I know you’ve been wallowing in your sadness since he ended things but it’s been a year, y/n. You should let things go,” your friend sighed as soon as he zipped you up. You sat on your vanity chair and took your curling iron.

“It’s not that easy,” you sighed as your curled the first strand of your hair. You spent the afternoon like that, fixing up your hair and putting on your makeup. Leon sighed, he knew that you were clearly affected by seeing your ex again. Leon was happy though, you maynit see it but you were clearly stressing about what version of you you would present to Harry. Leon was positive that this would end up in some make-up sex but who knows?

Harry arrived at the party earlier than you did. Knowing you, it probably took you hours to get ready for Leon. You loved doing that and you used to dress up for him. Sure, you were a secure woman but you still loved to make sure that your man’s eyes was on you and you only. Still, from a far, he would stare at you, the way he did when you were still together. He immediately made it a mission to look for Grimmy. He was porbably out there, entertaining guests but Harry wasn’t really in the mood to socialize. He was just here to get drunk and see you—if you were even coming.

“There he is!” Nick exclaimed as he saw Harry walk towards him. Nick’s friends looked at the poostar.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for the invite,” Harry smiled. Nick saw that Harry was clearly uneasy.

“Love the polo shirt but you’d probably want to look like you actually want to be here,” Nick said. “Y/N’s attending the party,”

“Could’ve told me that before I wore this shit,” Harry grumbled. He took a flute of champagne to one of the bartenders walking around and downed it immediately. Nick looked at him incredulously. “If I have to see her, I have to see her while I’m drunk,”

Nick sighed but still guided Harry to the special booth for Nick’s closest friends.

You stumbled in, a little tipsy in the bar to look for Nicky. Nick when you’re sober, Nicky when you consumed alcohol. You were with Leon who was holding your hand, just in case someone bumped in on you and you tripped. Leon sighed, obviously being sober in this situation. He was sure that Harry was here, seeing as there were shitty headlines such as HARRY STYLES WEAR Y/N Y/L/N’S COUTURE IN NICK GRIMES ANNUAL NYE PARTY.

Leon saw it though. He was wearing the special polo shirt you and his mother designed. He knew the intricacies of the polo shirt because on your first and last attempt to date, you rambled about Harry. You told him that instead of the signature tag of the customers with Mademoiselle or Monsieur as prefix, you opted to embroider my love, Harry--a one of a kind polo shirt. Leon has seen him wear the said shirts in Harry’s appearances, even getting the nickname ‘Harry’s special’ by many of his fans.

“Y/N!” Nick exclaimed as he saw you and Leon. You looked at him and immediately sobered up, seeing as Harry was latched onto his shoulder. You looked at Harry, suddenly aware of his presence and your self. He was looking at Leon with jealousy and you knew it, Harry never liked Leon and you walk in here with him in a dress like yours? It was killing him.

“Y/N, Harris.” your ex-boyfriend acknowledged. “Harry,” you nodded. Leon looked at him, aware that your ex was probably killing your friend in his mind. “I see that you have replaced me so easily, y/n,” Harry slurred. He was pretty sure he won’t remember shit tomorrow so he decided to just go with the flow. “Ha! See, Nick? Liquid courage,” he chuckled as he took a swig off of his beer bottle. “Alright, Harry. That’s enough,” you interjected, trying to take the bottle away from Harry. He clearly drank a little too much and you know that when Harry was drunk, he has the tendency to say things he didn’t mean at all. It’s not even a defense or anything, he just does it. “No, you’re not my girlfriend anymore. You can’t control me. Why don’t you go be with that Harris prick? Honestly, angel? You could do way better than that wanker, yeah?” he says, pointing his bottle to Leon who was busy eyeing down Nick.

“Harry--give me that bottle.” you said, clearly annoyed with how things are currently going. Why was he being difficult?

“Do you still love me, y/n? Look, I’m wearing the polo shirt you gave me,” he says, twirling like a little girl showing off her new outfit. “I see you’re wearing my ‘H’ ring, too. I saw it the other day...Instagram. That must mean something, yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He surrendered the bottle to you.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere so you could sit and clear your head, yeah?” you asked, holding his arm. “Leon,” you called to your friend. “I’ll just help Harry clear his mind. I’ll find you later, yeah? I’m sorry,” you said. Leon only nodded, mouthing a ‘sure’ before talking to a friend Nick introduced him to.

“If you don’t love me, you wouldn’t take care of me like this. Remember when you would do this lot? I miss it,” he rambled. You weren’t sure if he was being serious enough but you decided that either way, your heart was hurting. A silence fell upon the both of you as you sat on the booth.

“Harry, stay here yeah? I’ll see if someone could get you some water,” you said, standing up from the couch. Harry grabbed your hand.

“Please, stay. I promise I won’t say anything anymore. Just...stay here, love? Please? It’s been a while since you were this close to me and tonight, let’s just do things like the old times, yeah?” he asked. You were torn, so fucking torn with what he was saying. Wasn’t he the one who asked for a break? It’s been a year and you missed him. You really do.

“Harry,” you started, staring at his lips. You missed how soft it was, you missed how he kissed you. “Can we, can we kiss?” you asked. Harry sobered up. Were you really asking him to kiss you? He sat up straight looking at you. He inched closer until he could feel your heavy breaths. Your chest was heaving and you were itching for him to get closer. He smiled, taking your chin with his ring clad fingers until your lips met. It was slow and nice, two lovers yearning to be with each other again but soon enough, with too much yearning and passion, your kiss became heated. You didn’t notice it but Harry’s hands soon found your arms, caressing your bare arms up and down, the coldness of his rings against your warm skin a pleasuring contrast.

“Fuck,” he breathed as soon as you both pulled away. “Do you want to take this somewhere?” he asked. You nodded, mind too hazy from what just happened. You collected your bag that was left beside you.

“Let’s use the back door and walk discreetly, yeah?” you asked, Harry was never one to bring drivers during the holidays and so were you. You were intoxicated so you both didn’t want to drive. “Then, let’s just hail a car or something when we’re a little too far away,” you said. “I’ll just text Leon,” you added as you unlocked your phone.

“W-wait, Leon,” Harry rasped.

“You don’t have to worry about him. I’m single and I’m not his type,” you breathed as your grabbed his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should believe you, but nodded anyway. He was too desperate--all he wanted was to feel you close. You both made a beeline to the backdoor and exited, silently thanking the Lord for the absence of paparazzi. You walked, an awkward silence falling between the both of you. Still, your minds were hazy with lust, yearning, and love. You were a little far away when you hailed a taxi, telling the driver to go straight to Harry’s place, seeing as his house was nearer than yours. The both of you were obviously itching to touch each other but you refrained, you didn’t want anyone to see and complicate things.

The moment you arrived at Harry’s door (thank God he cleaned), your mouth was on his. This time, your kiss was more daring and passionate, all curfew thrown outside the window. You moaned as he trailed down to your neck, your back against the wall. He was sucking and licking the spot where your neck and shoulder blades met, your spot as he would call it. You were sure that he would leave a mark in the morning but you didn’t care. You were tugging at his hair, something that he always liked, to encourage him to go lower.

“Come,” he rasped as he took your hand to his bedroom. You both tiptoed in the dark hallways of his massive house until your back met the mattress in his bedroom. “How do you think I feel once I saw you in this red dress?” he asked. You weren’t able to answer his question as he kissed you again, only this time, his hand was playing with the thin straps of your silk dress. He lowered it.

Meanwhile, your hands were on his polo shirt, carefully unbuttoning the material off of his torso. Once you were able to take off the buttons, your hands met his tattooed chest. He moaned at the contact.

“Unzip me?” you asked as soon as he moved his lips down to the skin visible on your chest. He sucked your skin as you raised you body, his hands going underneath you to unzip the tight red dress off your body. He stopped for a moment, looking at your naked chest.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he moaned as he put his mouth on your nipple. You arched your chest towards him, his ring clad fingers kneading your other breast. Your hands were inching towards your underwear, nothing really special because you weren’t expecting this. “Ah, ah, ah,” he taunted, the moment he felt your fingers go lower.

“Harry—“

“No, let me do it, love,” he whispered. His mouth latched on to your other nipple, only this time, his fingers were trailing down to your clothed center. Your hips grinded on his hands, the rings giving you more texture. You were whimpering, begging for your ex-boyfriend to touch you. He chuckled a little bit, pushing your underwear to the sides before teasing your clit. You grounded your hips again, and Harry gave in, flicking the button in between your legs.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “more, Harry…”

“You want this? You want me to fill you up?” he asked, breathy. Quite frankly, his manhood was penting up in his pants. You nodded and Harry moaned, completely removing your underwear. Your hands trailed to his pants, massaging him through his fabric. Your hands immediately unbuttoned his trousers, and he stood up, removing it alone with his boxers. Your hands immediately found his dick, rubbing the precum all over before you pushed Harry onto the bed.

“What do you want me to do, Harry?” you asked seductively.

“Ride me,” he says. He bucked his hips towards your hands, clearly wanting more. “Come one, love,” he encouraged. You sat in his lap, taking his dick in between your hands, rubbing it on your clit for a few times before inserting the tip inside you. “I missed this, fuck,” he moaned. You moaned too, sitting lower until his length was filling you up. “I think you had your fun already,” he taunted, flipping you over. He leaned onto you as he pounded into you a few times.

“Harry, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your hand went to your clit, rubbing it as Harry went in and out of you.

“You just can’t get enough can you?” he asked. Your other hand and legs were around him, your nails digging onto his back. You nodded. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, love,” he said as he pounded into you harder. His hand was immediately on your nipple, pinching and tugging it. It was sensory overload, his hands on your breast, yours on your clit, him inside you, your nails onto him. He moaned, putting his mouth on yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You both felt his thrusts going sloppier and sloppier as your walls started to clench.

“Harry, I’m cumming, fill me up...cum inside me,” you moaned. The popstar only gruntled, obviously bathing in your wetness.

“Cum, princess. Cum on my cock, cum with me,” he moaned as you both came, his cum filling you up and your walls clenching around him.

“I love you,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t notice but he did, stopping for a moment, looking at you. “Let’s talk about it later,” you smiled.

He thrusted for a few more times before removing his girth inside you. He immediately looked for a towel to wipe you with it and you waited. He always did this—you waited, basking in the afterglow of sex.

—————-

It was 4 am in the morning and you were both naked underneath the sheets. You didn’t talk about your confession, sleeping immediately once he wiped down the mess on your legs and he sighed.

It was 4 am and he was sound asleep, his tattooed arm wrapped around your torso. You removed it carefully and he shuffled in his sleep. You watched him, tears springing in your eyes before silently dressing up and tiptoeing until you were outside his room. He didn’t notice it, too sound asleep. You were silently sobbing as you buckled the straps of your black heels, calling for a car. It took a few minutes of you waiting outside his gates, the cold breeze raising goosebumps on your skin.

That was how you spent your New Years Eve and New Years, having sex with your ex and then, regretting it hours later because you told him you loved him.

PART TWO?

happy new years! i hope this is the first / last fic you’ve read for the decade. thanks again! xxxx

taglist:

@giitterysuits / @floral-suits @bree082 @dezzym17 @bouncebackbyers @lolapuffs @belleamoree @demolition-lovers-blog @gorgeouslygrace @styledharry @nervousshoeghostmoney

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honestlyconkus · 6 years

Text

North steals hoodies

No one really noticed at first. It all happened so suddenly.

One day she was wearing a gray hoodie that looked almost identical to Simon’s. The hood itself was frayed at the edges, fibers peeking out, and the inside was rough from constant use, wash and dry in the washer. It was kind of old too, the gray color becoming lighter, losing its pigment. It had the look that someone had kept it for a long time. There was no mistaking it; Simon owned that hoodie for quite some time.

“North is that my hoodie?” He asked as she walked to their kitchen in the apartment, yawning. Her systems were a little iffy, she’ll have to run diagnostics in a few days. She barely looked at Simon as she went to the coffeemaker, turning it on. The caffeine gave androids, like humans, a small kick to their systems to get them going.

“Yes.”

That was that.

The next day it was Josh’s black sweats. She said his was the most comfortable out of the 4 when she walked out with it rumpled around her feet, socks barely peeking out as she tried not to trip over the fabric. He didn’t know what to say to her except make sure she didn’t leave any stains on it.

The 3 android boys made a silent agreement; to never tell another living being, android or human, how cute North looked being tiny in the sweats. It would cost them their thirium pumps, they were sure of it.

Another time it was Markus’ sweater. They wanted to go out for a little shopping, some new silverware or something. Markus was looking for the same exact sweater when she suddenly appeared in his room, wearing it and being a size too big on her. It was a black one with a large, slightly darker black handprint on the back.

“Let’s go slowpoke we’ll miss the bus.”

“North that’s-”

“Finders keepers losers weepers,” she recited, turning around to join Simon and Josh at the front of their apartment. He frowned when he spotted the print. “We won’t wait up for you.” He couldn’t even correct her that, no North I bought that, but it didn’t matter. He found a different sweater instead (white with a small black triangle on the back) and went out to join his friends.

One day she ended up with a tie. But not just any tie; it was Connor’s.

“Why do you have his tie?” Josh asked as she sat with them to watch a movie. It was friday movie night, where Jericho crowded around the 2 small sofas they had in their tiny living room and attempted to fit together. They all recognized it as Connor’s because he still wore the weird, shiny plastic like quality ties that came with his uniform. The said item was wrapped around her neck neatly, looking too big against her white button down. She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the tie protectively to her.

“I wanted it.”

“Is it for anything in particular?” Simon asked as he sat beside Markus, offering popcorn between the group. She didn’t reply and tossed a few kernels in her mouth. Markus shrugged and pressed play through his network, allowing the movie to start.

They never did figure out why.

While the subject of North taking their things was normal, the situation suddenly grew weirder when Connor came into the picture. When Markus lost his things, like his clothes, he never really minded. The theft was fine because it was someone he knew, someone who had access to his stuff. And who would (hopefully, if he begged) return them.

Unsurprisingly she never did. Her excuses often started and ended with, sorry Markus, I’m not sure where it went. But if I find it I’ll let you know, okay?

He didn’t mind really. He could always just buy more clothes. But it started to become a problem, when he realize it wasn’t lost; it was being used, by someone other than himself.

Markus decided to go out with Connor one day. It was an off day for him, and Connor told him once he enjoyed their walks and spending time at café’s. Markus happened to like Connor’s company as well and indulged him on these ‘dates.’ Today was another café, this one a place they haven’t been to before. Connor liked going to different places every time, always trying to make their dates new and fun.

(Markus tried avoid saying the words ‘I’m going on a date with Connor again’ to Jericho so it wouldn't be as weird but the gang called them that anyway. It stuck.)

When Connor showed up, wearing a sweater he remembered he lost precisely 2 weeks ago, he grew suspicious. He pointed at Connor’s chest, chuckling. “Uhm. Connor. Is that my sweater?”

“No.” Connor was quick to respond, looking down at the sweater and shaking his head. “I don’t recall you ever wearing it before. Maybe it looks similar to something else you have in your wardrobe?”

He wasn’t fooled for a second. It said ‘DETROIT’ in large white letters against a soft yellow background, but the letters never finished connecting to make them look like letters. Thus, the D had one straight line going down, and a detached half circle beside it, the E only has three straight lines across, the T one line across and a shorter, disconnected vertical line going down, etc, etc. The aesthetic was the reason he bought it. But he’d have to forfeit this one. When the RK800 tilted his head to the side Markus knew the cute act would get him.

He sighed and smiled. “Nevermind. So, how have you been detective?”

As their dates grew, Connor’s style did as well. One time he came on a walk with him, wearing suspiciously similar gray sweats he remembered losing 5 weeks ago. Another time, while enjoying a day at the museum, Connor was wearing a casual denim jacket Markus remembered losing 3 days before they met up. And for the 5th time, Connor was wearing skinny black jeans, ripped at the knees and distressed at a patch up his thigh, with red, blue and orange paint splatters near the calves. Markus knew those were his.

He remembered ruining them while he painted a portrait of Jericho, the boat they resided in before they were free.

He had stopped asking Connor, and instead asked North, since she was the only other suspect here. She was the only one who had access to clothes that he knew she had worn at least once. He had to ask, because seeing Connor in his clothes, with that ass into his jeans, Markus found himself admiring more than just the museum pieces.

Then, when Connor went for a walk with him with Sumo, wearing Markus’ pale blue button down, rolled up at the sleeves, paired with the ripped black jeans and somehow Markus’ black skate shoes, it was over.

“North I need you to answer me honestly,” he asked, cornering her in their living room. She was sitting watching a cooking show and quietly knitting, trying to mind her own business but Markus knew. Oh he knew.

The devil worked hard but North worked harder.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?” She asked innocently, setting her knitting needles down and staring demurely at her former leader. “I’m not doing anything-”

“Cut the bullshit, North. I know you’re trying to get me get into Connor’s pants and goddamnit it’s working.” Fuck. Maybe he should’ve phrased that better. He cleared his throat and tried again when the smug expression on her face grew bigger. “Seeing him in my clothes, with his cute little ass in my pants makes it hard for me to think near him. North how could you do this to me?”

North grinned, her tongue licking at her lips. She batted her eyelashes at him suggestively. “Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking.”

“Maybe, you should just rip them off instead.”

Markus couldn’t answer that, because he had thought of it before but there wasn’t a time where he found it appropriate. North seemed to know he had such dirty thoughts though, because the sly glint in her eyes gave everything away. Ah, damn.

“So tell me, how many times did you undress him in your head?” North winked, as if she just read his mind. Which she might've; she’s not above hacking her friends to invade their privacy. She cackled at the embarrassment on his face, smacking his thigh with her hand.

“I’m telling you,” she continued, controlling the conversation now. “Just get yourselves somewhere private, maybe a motel, hell even here, and we’d get your problem fixed right away-”

“North why would you even consider our apartment like that oh my god-”

She shrugged, ignoring the uncomfortable look on his face. “I’m just sayin’, Markus. If you need anything, I’m not above helping a friend out.”

He grew quiet as he scrutinized her, trying to gauge her reaction. “What are you getting out of this?”

North winked, making a shushing motion with her lips. “Secret. Plus Connor is cute as fuck Markus--- Don’t tell me you wouldn’t smash? Because that would make you the worst liar in all of android history.”

Markus rolled his eyes. North wasn’t done.

“Oh, and if it helps? Connor loves wearing your clothes.” She winked at him, turning back to her show about making lasagna. “He thinks some things are a little… tight though.”

“I think you might be able to help with that.”

Markus opened his mouth, closed it, then left the room, bright blue in the face; in his dramatic exit he decided to call Connor and meet him at the park, their usual spot. There was only one way to settle this, and that was not to admit his sexual feelings towards the younger android. Instead, it was to ask for his clothes back.

That shouldn't be too difficult.

He was so wrong, so so immensely wrong when he spotted Connor walking towards him. He thought he looked good, wearing an off white hoodie beneath a black bomber jacket, matching it with his favourite ripped blue jeans and white shoes. But Connor.

Connor was wearing a-

Markus nearly had his systems overload, smoke rising out of his ears.

Connor had somehow acquired his beige trench coat, sporting a black sweater beneath with a white collar. He matched it with olive green pants and stylish brown shoes. Other than the trench coat, everything else seemed to be his.

But it didn't deny the fact that Connor was absolutely, most definitely, purposely dressing as him.

“Hello Markus,” Connor said, smiling. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. Fuck, even his hair was loose and wavy at his forehead, slicked back style forgone for something more natural.

“Did you want to talk to me about something?”

Markus cleared his throat, turning away to try and clear his mind as well. Maybe if he didn't stare at Connor his mind wouldn't be giving him such... images.

Ugh.

ra9 help him.

“Uh yeah. yes actually.”

Okay. This was it. Markus just needed to ask for his clothes back. 5 simple words. “I need my clothes back.” Easy. Nothing could mess this up now-

“Would you like to go on a proper date with me?”

fuck

Connor tilted his head, processing the words for a bit while his LED flickered. Then he beamed, stepping closer in delight. His LED was glowing a steady happy blue from the corner of Markus’ vision. “I thought you'd never ask!”

The android blinked. His behaviour wasn’t what he expected. “So that's a yes?”

“Of course it's a yes!” Connor had never felt happier, smiling at him with such glee it left the android aching something in his heart.

Markus was surprised, but felt happy as well, sharing his own smile. Connor let out a laugh, looking relieved.

“I'm glad this worked.”

What?

“What did?” The RK200 demanded, closing their distance and glaring, immediately suspicious. What does that mean? He couldn’t mean-

“Did North put you up to this?”

“She did.” Connor admitted unashamedly, grinning and stepping even closer. There was barely a foot of space separating them now, the front of Markus’ trench coat brushing against the owner's arms. “She mentioned your preferences for stylish men and I simply acted accordingly. I didn't anticipate it would be this much of a success.”

“Did you now?” Markus raised an eyebrow, noting the other's boldness. Surprised by his own courage by reaching out from impulse and wrapping a suggestive hand around Connor's hip. The android simply leaned into the touch, brown eyes wide and eager.

Markus was only glad he wasn't the only one feeling such a way.

“And did you anticipate this?”

Markus pulled him in, smiling as Connor's nose brushed against his own, hands slotting to Connor's hips. The other android's hands reached up to clutch at Markus’ jacket, a smile mimicking Markus’ own.

“No,” Connor whispered, eyes dipping below to the inches of distance between their lips.

“But I was hoping for it.”

Neither one knew who close the distance first.

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likethetailofacomet · 6 years

Text

Viewing Party

So the other night @ooo-barff-ooo and I were talking about how much we loved our TRR MCs, Claire Berkley and Joanna Malone, and how it would be cool if they were friends and I was like well what if they were and then this happened.

Without further ado, I give you the ultimate friendship of C and J, getting drunk together and watching everyone’s favorite fairy tale on live television: The Royal Romance- Liam and Riley’s wedding.

FEATURING: JOANNA MALONE, CLAIRE BERKLEY, AND DAN DAN THE BARTENDER MAN.

“See you tomorrow, Dan,” Claire called from behind the bar. “Same bat time, same bat place.” He said over his shoulder. He gave a one handed wave and strode toward the front door and sweet freedom. He’d been there since 11 am and it was approaching midnight- the joys of working a double shift- and he was due for another one in the morning, so he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Claire had come in at 5pm, and would sling drinks until last call at 4am, when the shift workers and doctors and construction guys and fisherman had had either thier first or last drinks of the night. Joanna would open, Dan would pull the double, and Claire would close. That was the general flow.

Tonight, though, was not a general night. At roughly 5 am EST the most anticipated marriage of the year would be televised live- the Cordonian Royal Wedding-New York bartender Riley Brooks was rising to the rank of queen as she married future king Liam Rys after falling in love with him in the most modern of Cinderella stories: she took out the trash at his bachelor bash and ended up stealing his heart and his hand.

Claire checked on her ten or so customers, making sure that all of their glasses were full before slipping into the closet they called a kitchen. There was a single basket fryer, a flat top that could fit no more than four frozen burger patties, and a coffee maker. She reached for the can of Folger's on the top shelf and scooped some of it into the brew basket before jamming it into the machine and pressing "start". She leaned against the counter ledge as she waited for the deep brown liquid to fill the little clear pot, pulling her phone from her apron to text Joanna.

-Hey girl, you're stopping for snacks right? I'm starving.

Jo had been off from work since 5pm when Claire got in. She'd gone home and taken a nap before running a few errands for the viewing party they'd been planning ever since they saw that first tabloid article about the Prince choosing his bride. Claire and Jo were not the type of girls who would normally get so involved in the billion dollar weddings of fancy rich nobles and dignitaries around the world- hell they had been invited to Steve's wedding- a guy they used to work with and actually knew without the need for magazine or television coverage- and despite their manager saying that they could close the bar for a night so everyone could go to the wedding, Claire and Jo declined, not really liking Steve...or weddings. "I have a school thing that night...um...presentation. Of my...thesis," Jo had said. She was working on her Master's degree while slaving at Keagan's, so her excuse seemed to work, even though it was a summer course and she wouldn't actually be working on her thesis for another five months. "And um, I have an...appointment that afternoon that....I can't reschedule..." Claire chimed in her thinly veiled excuse. She did have an appointment...for hair color...and she'd really rather not reschedule it just to go sit at Steve's wedding. But this wedding, dubbed "The Royal Romance" by the media, was a different story, namely for who would be standing next to the Prince as he said his "I do's".

-Um, did you see the pictures of the Prince's friend? The dude with the hair and the eyebrows and the denim? He's all the snack we need, C. (but yes I also got snacks for eating)

Claire laughed at Jo's response, typed out a quick one back saying how excited she was, and then poured herself a large black coffee before heading back to the bar to finish up her shift. As the last patron stumbled out the door and it shut with a tingling of bells, she flipped the sign to the closed side, locked the door and turned off the neon lights in the windows. She went back to the bar cooler and took a tray of jello shots out, setting them on the freshly cleaned bar top. She then went to her bag and took two brightly colored headbands that she’d attached lace and tooling and feathers and beads to, and set them next to the shots. Changing the channels on all the televisions to various news stations, she sat back and enjoyed the “pregame coverage” of the wedding while she waited for Joanna. Just as she finished the last of the coffee she’d brewed hours earlier, she heard a tapping at the window and looked over to see her friend waving excitedly and holding up a bag. Claire set her empty coffee mug down and crossed the bar to open the door and let Jo in.

“Welcome to the wedding of the century, Madame,” Claire greeted her with a flourish and a funny bow.

Jo did an awkward curtsy. “Why thank you Madame, so pleased I could join you.” The two dissolved into laughter and headed over to the bar. Joanna hopped up onto a stool and took stock of the things Claire had laid out while adding the bag she’d brought with her. She picked up one of the headbands and laughed. “Oh my god, Claire, did you really make us fascinators?”

Claire raised her eyebrows. “Um, yeah I made us fascinators! Riley has been obsessed with fancy hats throughout the whole social season! Homegirl would not shut up about them- like, every chance she could get to wear one she did and she even brought them up in interviews… I thought it would be weirder if I didn’t make us fascinators.”

“Good point. I really don’t know how Prince Liam is looking past that. He must really love that dizzball.” Joanna plopped the colorful headpiece on top of her noggin and Claire took the other one and shoved it into her frizzy hair. Next Joanna picked up one of the shots Claire had made. “Ew, Jell-o shots?” she made a face, pulling one half of her mouth up to show her disgust.

“Caramel apple jell-o shots, to be exact. You know, because Cordonia’s obsessed with apples? And caramel because I’m obsessed with caramel.” She shrugged. “Once we’re a few drinks in we won’t care if they’re gross.”

“So true my friend. So,” she opened the shopping bag she’d had with her and pulled out several small plastic containers. “We’ve got…olives…stuffed grape leaves…and, drum roll,” Claire obliged, rapping her pointer fingers on the bar top. “Baklava! You know cause,” Jo shrugged, “Cordonia, Greece…they’re sorta the same right?”

“Sure. Probably not but sure.” Claire laughed and Joanna tossed an olive at her.

“Okay well they are tonight. Also,” next she pulled out a sheet of paper. “I made up a drinking game for this here wedding.” On the screen they were showing a photo montage of Riley and Liam from all the different events from the social season. “Okay, rules- If anyone mentions apples, or there’s a flag with apples or we see an apple tree or they say “Cordonian Ruby”, we take one of these gross shots here,” she pointed to Claire’s Jell-o shots. “Any time we see fancy hats, or some noble lady curtsies or some dude in a suit bows, we take a sip of our ciders. If they call Riley “The American” we finish ‘em.”

“Wait, let me get this straight. You made up a drinking game with no whiskey involved?” Claire asked, skeptically narrowing her eyes at Joanna.

“I wasn’t done, C! Okay, so any time Mr. broody Mc Brooderson Drake Walker, love of our lives and real reason that we are watching this ridiculous wedding at 5am, is shown looking like he wants to kiss Riley, we do a shot of whiskey in his angsty honor. I was going to suggest Fireball but-“

“But you remember the holiday party from last year. Yeah, everyone does,” Claire hid her face in her hands embarrassed, preferring to forget that night and the drunken mess she’d been.

“Right. I remembered the holiday party and how Fireball turns you into a demon. So, I figured SoCo would do.”

“Yeah, that’s never made me dance on the bar while trying to fight Steve, so good call.”

Joanna nodded. “Any rules you want to add?”

Claire thought for a moment and then something blue and…unique…caught her eye on the screen. They were talking about Maxwell Beaumont again, and his propensity to wear themed suits. He had this hilarious blue suit with a squid on it; even the bow-tie was a tiny cephalopod. “Oh! Yes! Every time they have to pan away from that,” she pointed to Maxwell in the suit, “so as not to ruin a picture or a shot, we take a cider sip.”

Joanna laughed. “Deal. Oh! Its starting!!” She spun her stool so she could lean back against the bar to watch. Claire poured them each a cider and they clinked them together before taking a sip, pinkies out. “Ugh, and to think, this girl worked right down the street from us. Like, this coulda been us, C!”

Claire blinked before they both burst into laughter. “Yeah we’d both make excellent queens, I’m sure.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dan unlocked the bar door and opened it, setting the bells jingling. Before he had even set one foot inside, he heard the raucous laughter of his two best friends, and shook his head wondering what he was about to walk into. “Is it just me, Jo, or does the Queen Mother look like a Royal Ducking Bitch?” Claire’s voice was sing songy and full of laughter.

Joanna was laying her arms and top half on the bar top, laughing hysterically, almost to the point where she couldn’t get her words out. She managed to respond, “Quack, mother ducker!!” before giggles swallowed her ability to speak further.

“Did…did you two really just autocorrect yourselves?” Dan called, hands on his hips taking in the scene in front of him. They each had a funny looking headband dangling from their heads, empty jello glasses littered the bar, and at least three shots of whiskey each sat next to them. If only Drake hadn’t been pining for Riley The American Queen so badly, they wouldn’t have had to nearly finish the bottle of SoCo.

“Yes, Dan, we are at a fancy ducking event here.” Claire pointed to her fascinator, to how it was barely staying together after she and Jo had danced and drank and laughed and flopped against the bar top.

“Yeah, and we can’t be ducking rude and curse like sailors, Dan!” Joanna chimed in. “The Queen would not allow it!”

“She would not!” they had put on silly accents by now, not coming anywhere close to the Cordonian accent…or any accent in the world, really, but forcing so much laughter from one another that they cried.

“Okay tweedles C and J,” Dan clapped them both on the back. “Outta my bar, you drunkards. Go sleep off the wedding, I’ll see you back for your shifts in a few hours.” Now it was his turn to laugh almost to the point of tears, as they both groaned thinking about bartending while hungover at 3 in the afternoon.

“Worth it,” Jo said to Claire, high fiving her sloppily.

“Totally.” Claire answered.

tagging people who i think might find this funny even though its really the most gratuitous thing i’ve ever posted: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @andy-loves-corgis @agent-bossypants

#claire berkley #joanna malone #frands #trr #the royal romance #c & j au #viewing party #girl gang #fascinating fascinators #fancy hats #pinkies out #riley brooks #liam rys #liam x riley #liam x mc

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fuckthis-and-fuckthat · 6 years

Text

The Hotel

Jeffrey dean MorganXreader

A/N- I had this dream and I thought it would be great for a fic. So here it is. It was written on the span of 3 hours at 2 in the morning. It is garbage. Like me.

Summary- You're on a road trip and just happen to stop at a hotel at the wrong time. You weren't expecting it to be under attack or to meet the man of your dreams.

Warning- murder, blood, cursing.

A/N- this will most likely be a series. Idk how long.

@tbhimprobablylost1613

Something was immediately off. You felt it in the air around you. The men in all black with ear pieces in and carrying huge bags. It wasn't right. Looking around the hotel lobby, there were more and more entering through the front doors, and you noticed a few guns placed in their belts. As soon as you saw a man take out a large piece of metal and stuck it through the door handles, you pulled out your phone, dialing 911. Explaining what was going on, you quickly exited through a door, leading down a hallway, shoving your phone deep in your bra. You start to run as fast as you could towards the back exit, hoping to get out, but not such luck. As you make a bealine around a corner, you run into a large man, tumbling down on your ass. "Mph..fuck." looking up, your met with a tall man wrapped in leather and a salt and pepper beard. Looking into those hazel, eyes, your heart leapt to your throat. "Oh my god." You gently breath out, "You're JDM." Mentally smacking yourself, you rush to your feet and he places his hands on your elbows to help while chuckling. "Yeah, that's me, Darlin'. Whatcha' runnin' for?" Asking as he licks his bottom lip, you quickly remember what's happening. The look of pure horror and panick washes over your face and Jeffrey notices by the way his eyebrows twitch. "I-um..." Y/N, this is not a time for stuttering! Your brain screams at you. Letting your brian take over, you kick away your nerves as best as you can. "The hotel is about to be under attack. The police are on the way. We need to leave now." Obviously a little confused, he blinks a few times, "What?" Rolling your eyes, you sigh angrily, "There's men in the lobby who just blocked the door and have large bags. They have ear pieces and it's fishy. I called the fucking cops and we need to fucking leave before we get stuck in this shit!" Finishing off with no more breath, you grab him by his leather coated arm, pulling him down the hallway. Having no idea what Jeffrey is saying, you almost reach the door before he pulls against you, making you turn around, "Hey, hey!" He yells "I need you to calm the fuck down and explain better!" "Look, man! They have fucking guns and the front door is blocked. We. Need. To. Fucking. Go." Gritting your teeth together you look him dead in the eye, jumping when gun shots and screams rang out. "We need to leave. Now." Your voice was deeper, more serious as you spoke, and recognition appeared on his face Swallowing, he nodded, "Okay. Just stay behind me." Latching onto your hand, he grips it tightly and it takes all the strength in you to not melt in a puddle by how warm and large his hands are. You both reach the door and Jeffery tries pushing it open, but something is holding it in place, "Son of a bitch." His hand tightened slightly around yours as he thought for a moment. "Stay back." He pushes gently on your sromach and you step back. More gun shots are fired, and you jump at the noise. Watching as his leg went up, about to kick the door down, your whimpering voice stopped him. You knew what it was when it pressed to the back of your skull, the cool metal poking your skin. "Jeffrey..." your voice came out weak and scared, a little shakey. The moment he heard your voice, he turned on his heel, now facing you with a gun to your head. "Don't you fuckin' touch her." He growls, eyes becoming darker as each moment passes. "Oh, don't worry, I won't touch a hair on her pretty little head." The man behind you bites back, running a hand down your side, "but that won't stop me from touching other things." His hand goes to your ass and your anger finally kicks in, saying 'fuck you' to fear. Jeffery's body was tence. Chest heaving and hands clenched. He wasn't happy and you knew it, but you looked him in his eyes, gently nodding, letting him know you had it under control. Your eyes roamed over to the wall where a fire alarm was, in a glass box. If you could just get him over there, you could break it and get away. Jeffery seemed to follow your eyes and he gave you a nod, letting you know he was on board with whatever plan you had. You move your body to the right, trying to get out of his grip, which you do a little, managing to only get so far until he pushes you against the wall right beside of the fire alarm. You bite your lip at the force of impact, groaning a little as your head aches. The man cackles out a laugh and both you and Jeffrey grimace. "Bad girl." He smirks, putting the gun into his belt. He now uses both hands to grip your hips and keeping you still. In a matter of seconds, youre taking your thumbs and pushing them into his eyes, pressing as hard as you can and blood trickles down his face. He snatches his hands away to grab at yours, crying out in pain when he grips your wrists. Pulling one hand away, you break the glass with your fist, grabbing whatever piece you can find, clenching it hard. There was only a few places you could actually stab him with the glass and you weren't about to be some stupid bitch in a movie who stabs him in the leg. It wouldn't go in his side because of the thick jacket he was wearing. So the only possible place would be the chest, stomach, or neck. Either way, this dude was going to most likely die. Gripping with all your strength, you slam it into his chest, and the glass slices your palm open wide. Jeffrey is by your side in an instant, pulling him away and pushing him to the ground, kicking him in his face, knocking him out. Jeffery grabs the guys gun, tucking it in the back of his pants. You lean your head back on the wall, sliding down, falling once again on your ass. Your legs are spread in front of you and you don't even care if Jeffrey can see up your short skirt. Your hand is burning intensely and blood is still flowing out of it, so you clench your hand back into a fist. Jeffrey is busy patting the man down, finding another gun and a pocket knife. You take the short moment to take in his form. Mentally laughing about how all the times you read about this exact moment in fan fiction. But you eyes land on his thighs in the black denim, squatted down. He stashed the knife in his boot and slides the gun over to you, still keeping his back turned. You pick it up, giggling at how it was like a scene from a movie. You do the same as him, tucking it in the back of your skirt, happy it was a little too tight around your waist, making the gun fit smoothly. When he turns around, his hazel eyes soften when they land on you. You look down, noticing how blood has now dripped onto your legs, and is probably now everywhere else. You gently smile at him and he smiles back, moving to sit on his knees between your legs. He cupps your cheek in his hand, checking your face for anything. You can't help but smile at him when his thumb brushes a tear that slips down your cheek. He smiles down at and places a kiss on your head. "I never caught your name." He says with the slightest since of humor, handing you a bandanna, wrapping it around your hand. You wince at the pain, but tell him to continue. "It's Y/N Y/L/N. And will you take a picture with me?" You ask, tilting your head to the side, a little laugh coming from your lips. "Why the hell not?" Jeffrey chuckles and you pull your phone free from your bra. "Here. Let me." He takes your phone from you and swipes over to the camera. When he holds it up, you can't help but cringe at your appearance. Blood had splattered on your face, but your makeup was still intact. You both smile as he snaps the picture, handing you back your phone, letting you stuff it back in your bra. "You okay?" He asks, concern clear in his voice, but not pressing too hard. "I mean, I just jabbed a dudes eye balls out and Stabbed him, so, as okay as I'm gonna be." You glance over at his lifeless form, feeling a bit ill ass you now actually take in the fact that there is a dead man infront of you and you're covered in his blood. You knock off the feeling, clearing your throat, "I think we should leave. They'll be coming soon to clear the area." Jeffery helps you up, making sure your steady, keeping a hand on your waist. "I think for right now, i's gonna' be tough, but yah gotta keep them feelin's away, Y/N. I don't fuckin' know what kinda shit we're gonna' have to do." His voice is sincere and rough all at the same time, and it makes your heart melt, but it's not the time for that, but you just nod, mumbling "I know." You know he's right. Who know's what's gonna happen, who know's what you're gonna have to do to survive. You nod your head as you talk in your mind, pushing away your feelings. "Let's do this shit." You grunt, reaching into your skirt, getting your pistol, cocking it. "You know how to shoot?" He asks, pointing at your gun. "I know enough." You shrugg. "Look." Stepping behind you, he wrapps his arms around you, placing your hands where they need to be, "thumb here, pointers here. When you shoot, keep your knees shoulder length apart and elbows locked, like this." He pressed onto your body with his chest, using his foot to kick apart your legs. "There yah go. Keep your thumbs out of the way. Where ever your thumbs are, that's what you're pointin' at." Letting go of you, he squeezes your shoulder. "What's your favorite tv show?" Jeffrey questions, and you giggle at the question. "The Walking Dead." He chuckles as well. "Who's your favorite character?" "Negan." "What would Negan do?" "He'd kick some fucking ass." "Then let's kick some fucking ass." Both of you feeling the electric buzz of adrenaline, you nod at eachother. Jeffrey takes out his gun as well, and you both round a corner. He points to the left and you point to the right. No one to be found, you stand side by side, taking a left turn, heading to the lobby. Reaching it, he holds up his hand to stop you, and he walks closer to the end of the hallway, peeping his head out just a little to see. Turning back around, he reaches you, mumbling a "about 30". Following him, he leads you down the hallway. When you near the elevators, you find a map. "All of the doors are gonna be blocked. We need a different way." You point up at the ceiling to the air vents, "we gotta do it like the movies. Let's John McClane this bitch." Finding a confrence room, there was a vent in the middle of the room, right above the large table. The vent looked to be big ebough that both you and Jeffrey could get in. "I'll hoist yah up." He suggests, helping you on the table, climbing in after you. He holds is hands out for you to stand on them, and he lifts you into the air. You hook your fingers onto the vent and loosen the bults, letting it open, but still being connected. "Higher" pushing you up higher, you stick your arms through the opening, trying to pull yourself up, struggling a little, so Jeffrey gives you a push, and you slide right in. "Alright, come on." Looking back down at him, he jumps, grabbing ahold of the edge, pulling himself up. Sweat had coated his skin and was glistening in the low lighting of the air vents, and you pryed your eyes away from him. You pull the vent back up, putting the bolts back on. "You got a lighter?" Digging into his pocket, he flicks open his zappo, lighting it before handing it over. "I'll go first." Getting onto all fours, he follows after you. You work your way through the vents, until reaching the end and coming to a turn, "left or right?" You ask "Go left." "Okie dokie." Taking a left you go to the end, asking the same question, this time getting a right. Then again, but this time you could see what looked to be sunlight, "we got sun!" You announce, picking up the pace the best you could. When you get to it, you look through, finding that you were at the side of the building, but you could see all of the caution tape and police cars, including swat team and news reporters. "This is our way out. It's a little bit of a jump." Closing his lighter, you hand it back to him. "You gotta go first on this one." Looking over at him and the tight air vent, you don't know how it's possible. But Jeffrey lays dow on his back "Here, crawl over me." He motions to his body, and you can't fight the bubbles in your tummy. "Don't look up my skirt." Straddling his lower legs, your legs don't have enough room to fit between him and the vent wall. "Okay, well um, I have to slide over you. Mah legs don't fit." "Whatever yah gotta do, Doll." He chuckles. There it is! You pratically scream with joy when he says the pet name that you've been waiting for. The one he always says in fanfics. "We ain't got all day." Tapping your thigh with his finger, you clear your throat. "Y-yeah." You pull your skirt up so it's now at the bottom of your ass, not on your thighs, that way you can move them more. You have just enogh room to slide up and starddle his stomach a little, so you do so, leaning foward so your hands are above his head. Looking down at him, he has a smirk pressed on his features, "you owe me a drink." Sliding up a little more, you pick up one of your legs, stretching just enough that you get your leg over his shoulder. Moving the other one, you are now pratically straddling his face and quickly move foward, feeling your cheeks redden. Jeffrey slides foward to where his feet are touching the vent. Leaning up on his hands, be kicks it once, twice, then it falls open. It's a little high jump down, so that's why you made him go first, and he lands pretty good. "Come on, sweetheart. Go feet first. I'll catch yah." Doing as he says, you dangle your legs over the edge, slowly sliding until you slip out, and Jeffrey catches you in his big strong arms. He sits you down on your feet, arms still around your waist, bodies still pressed together, and you can't help but smile brightly at him "we made it." You chirp, batting your eye lashes a little " "That we fucking did. How bout' we go get that pretty little face cleaned up and I grab yah that drink?" Smirking, he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "Sounds good. But we gotto go explain to those cops about what happened and that'll probably take all day. But after that, sure." "Alright, smart ass. Let's go." Chuckling, he keeps an arm around your waist as you walk, "and cute panties by the way." Stupid mid track, you smile and slap his chest, "Jeffrey Dean Morgan! I told you to not look!" "Oh, as if yah care." "Shut up."

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possibilistfanfiction · 6 years

Note

sutton and a trans guy, please i'm begging you! my crops would flourish, my skin would clear

[henny we all need hydration & july is no time for acne so here u go]

kat has to cover the new wowfull selections and truly the only reason you both decide to go instead of sending one of her interns is because there are very few things jane hates more than smorgasburg.

‘no,’ she says, about forty times, before kat offers to buy her whatever she wants on scarlet’s card and finally jane relents.

you get there together, all crammed into what is probably the world’s tiniest via, you think, with kat essentially on adena’s lap in the back and you had let jane have the front seat because she was already grumpy. it’s so hot already and you didn’t even bother wearing makeup because it’s a sunday at noon in the middle of july and kat had made you all get out of bed so she can eat waffles from the most pretentious food truck gathering ever, so it’s truly not worth it on so many levels.

the bouncer checks your IDs and kat gets you three glasses of rose before handing you both $50, which shuts jane up momentarily.

‘i’m gonna go find somewhere to sit with adena,’ she says, and you kind of envy her right now, because she has wine and the best pair of vintage denim shorts you’ve ever seen, dramatic sunglasses and beat up sneakers. also, a beautiful girlfriend who is in a skirt that flows with the breeze in lines that oliver would love, who holds kat’s hand and you see them laughing and it’s wild, you think, how easily in love they are.

you and jane both kind of watch them walk away, a little dazed, and then she turns to you.

‘i literally hate this so much but we have $100 to spend on food so, shall we?’

she offers the crook of her elbow and you grin and you end up getting poke tacos, bahn mi, japanese street ice, green chile frito pie, and a vegan burger to share before you grab another glass of wine. kat drops you a pin and you find her and adena lounging on a blanket in the shade, thank god.

kat raises her brows at all of the food you have and you shrug. ‘you gave us the money.’

she grins and proceeds to instagram the entire spread before taking a bite of everything, which even jane laughs at.

‘kat, are you gonna get anything?’

‘yeah,’ she says, waves a hand around vaguely. ‘adena and i had breakfast before we came though so i’m not that hungry yet.’

jane literally spits out part of her taco to frown completely and you want to laugh because you love her so much and it’s so unnecessary but you’ll let her have it.

‘so you’re saying you dragged us to this crowded, hot, bougie food truck hell and you don’t even want to eat anything?’

‘uh, no,’ kat says. ‘i gave you $100 to eat anything you wanted and eventually i have to eat the new wowfull.’

jane groans and lies down against the blanket dramatically and adena smiles into kat’s shoulder.

‘love you so much, tiny jane,’ kat says.

eventually kat really does have to try the wowfull, which she proceeds to say like seven times and you’ve had three glasses of wine in like 90 degree heat so you are both decently day drunk and the word keeps making you laugh harder every time. the line is insane but at this point you’re so fucking full and apparently kat is still good to go because you’re waiting patiently, not really bothered, and jane is chatting with adena about, you don’t really know?, but something to do with memoir and sexuality in iran—honestly it’s a little shitty that you’d tuned them out and kat had too because she was just staring at adena’s boobs for a hot few minutes before you’d dragged her to finally do what you set out to in the first place.

you’re talking to her and she’s turning back, to check on adena and jane, probably, and you really aren’t saying anything that interesting so when kat breaks out in a huge grin you’re a little confused until a guy two people behind you in line spots her as well and smiles, just as big.

‘jayden, oh my god,’ she says, stepping out of the line to give him a big hug.

‘kat,’ he says, clearly excited, ‘hi!’

she steps back and looks him over and wow, okay, he’s super cute, you can see that, with skin a few shades darker than kat’s, perfect arms, an incredible smile, dimples, and, listen, you’re drunk but you have good taste no matter what.

‘you look incredible,’ she says, and then tugs him up two spots to where you still are standing in line.

‘jayden,’ she says, with a shit eating grin and you know what that means, but honestly you are not going to complain today, ‘this is sutton.’

‘nice to meet you, sutton,’ he says, shakes your hand.

‘nice to meet you too.’

‘hey,’ kat says, glancing around. ‘are you here with anyone?’

he shakes his head no. ‘i was on a run and then i got hungry, figured since i was already in the park i’d stop by.’

‘ew,’ kat says. ‘running.’

he laughs and you really think that maybe kat has like a magnet for attractive people, yourself included, because. wow.

‘so,’ you say, ‘how do you two know each other?’

‘oh,’ kat says, in the way that you know she’s trying to downplay one thing or another, ‘we went to yale together.’

‘two of three black people in our communications program,’ jayden says, and they high five.

‘that’s awesome,’ you say, and kat nods but jayden shrugs. humble, a good quality.

‘what are you doing in the city?’ kat asks, completely ignoring the menu even though you’re like three people away from ordering, but whatever, you can wing it.

‘i just moved to park slope,’ he says. ‘i’m doing PR for an lgbtq youth outreach program for the center.’

okay, so, he’s a good person. kat looks at you like she knows you literally thought just that, puts her arm around his shoulders. ‘always the better of the two of us.’

‘no way,’ he says, and you love seeing your friend like this, honestly. you also love seeing her friend just exist so you’re so content. ‘from what i know from your social, you are department head and you also have a very, very pretty girlfriend.’

kat nods modestly. ‘true. on both accounts.’

jayden hip checks her and kat shoves him, gently but she’s also drunk and you send an apologetic smile to the white dude behind her in a cutoff poncho and tevas, the absolute worst.

‘so,’ jayden says, drifting closer to you, ‘how do you know the illustrious katherine edison?’

you smile because kat hates her full name and she turns away with a huff to finally look at the menu, which is probably good because she actually has to order in like, four seconds. ‘we met as interns at scarlet four years ago.’

‘sutton,’ kat says over her shoulder, ‘is in the fashion department. fucking killer.’

jayden smiles when kat sighs and orders all six wowfulls on the menu because she can’t remember what she was actually supposed to review, and she waves him off when he tries to order too.

‘i just paid for, like, ten thousand calories. at least you can help us eat a few.’

jayden shrugs and you both ignore kat for a few moments while she tries to figure out how to carry all six wowfulls back to your blanket without spilling all of them and finally you both take pity on her and grab two each. she rolls her eyes and strides off in front of you and you both laugh.

jayden is cute as shit and jane has apparently seen this development and offers the two of you more wine, which she’d picked up while you were in line.

‘thanks,’ jayden says, sitting down between you and kat. he introduces himself politely, shakes jane’s hand, and then laughs at kat’s blush when she introduces adena.

adena is thrilled to hear a few stories about kat in undergrad, how she threw up in a freshman sociology class because she and jayden had been to a party the night before and kat had never had vodka before; the time they went to harvard and tried to join a secret society to find out more about them; her apparently very intense and strict nap schedule her senior year.

kat rolls her eyes and tries to argue but you know it’s mostly for show, because she’s happy and taking pictures of all of you eating these insanely decadent desserts and adena feeds her a spoonful of ice cream and you and jane share an eye roll before you notice jayden doing the same and honestly, he’s in at that point. he’s really in when he gets kat and adena to agree to speak at an upcoming event for his youth center, something to do with intersectionality and creativity in the workplace, which like they really are both perfect for.

kat is a very professional person, really, and lowkey a workaholic, and you know this, but sometimes—'i need to go for a walk,’ she groans, lying back on the blanket dramatically. ‘i’m. so full.’

‘fair,’ jane says, gets up and you help her throw away all of your collective trash. it’s hot as hell but the park is pretty shady at this point, but once you get out of the designated food truck area kat smirks at adena and then takes off her shirt.

apparently today was a day for kat to not wear a bra and you have literally seen her boobs more times than you can count, as has jane, and definitely adena, but her girlfriend still blushes and you roll your eyes again.

you pause because kat now wants adena to put sunscreen on her back, apparently, and when adena kisses behind kat’s ear jane says, ‘this isn’t a porn film,’ and kat laughs, loud and full and you love both of them for those exact reasons.

‘fine, fine,’ she says, accepts it and puts the sunscreen away, links her fingers with adena again.

you’re too busy being a little jealous of them to notice that jayden has taken his shirt off too but when you look over at him, to ask him something about his work or his apartment or his neighborhood, you have to swallow because, okay, abs. jane squeezes your hand and you have to fight a strangled laugh and kat and adena are off in their own fucking world a few feet ahead of you.

you don’t even notice the scars on jayden’s chest until you do, and, okay, you can do this. you know lots of trans people, you fitted a bunch of trans men for a fashion spread just last month, so everything clicks into place pretty quickly but you’re still staring and you don’t really know what to do because you’re kind of drunk and the last thing you want to do is be shitty to this dude that you think is honestly super banging—but then jane, perfect tiny jane, says, ‘wow, your abs are just. wow.’

he laughs and you laugh and you maybe have never loved another person more in the world than you love her right now. kat turns around momentarily and grins at jayden, genuinely delighted, and then winks at you.

i hate you, you mouth, and she only smiles bigger and turns forward, kisses her girlfriend’s cheek.

you all end up sitting near a fountain and kat falls asleep while adena plays with her hair, so then adena starts photographing her, and everything around you.

jayden is smart and funny and really, incredibly caring, and jane makes an excuse to go find the bathroom but you know she went after your second glass of wine so she doesn’t really have to go.

‘i’m glad i ran into kat,’ jayden says, and it’s sincere, for sure.

‘me too.’

he smiles, hands you his phone. ‘she’s great, but i also am very glad i got to meet you.’

and, like, you’re going to have to navigate some things, sure, but he’s fucking hot and also very kind and kat seems to love him and he’s already commiserated with jane on like eight complaints so.

you’re sutton brady, and no one is better with people than you.

‘i’m very glad i got to meet you too,’ you say, finishing your contact information. you call yourself from his phone and he smiles and you save his number.

kat wakes up because adena legitimately has to pee and jane comes back with waters for everyone—an actual angel—and you spend another hour sweating it out with your friends, and a boy you like, and you’re day drunk and exhausted by the end of it, very happy.

kat gives jayden a big hug before she and adena get into a via to head back to soho, and jane tries to shake his hand but he laughs and gives her a hug instead.

you stand on your tip toes and kiss his cheek and he glances down, a little shy, but with a smile when he looks back up at you.

‘i’ll text you,’ you say.

‘i look forward to it.’

he jogs away with a wave and jane’s face is a human version of the smirk emoji and you let out a deep breath.

‘yeah,’ she says.

‘fuck yah,’ you say.

the next evening you lie down next to jane in bed; you and jayden had been texting all day and you really, really like him and really, really do not want to mess this up.

‘hey babe,’ jane says, pausing whatever intense and probably boring documentary she’s watching and setting aside her computer. ‘what’s up?’

‘can you direct me,’ you say, because jane is the best and has probably researched literally everything, ‘to resources on how to not be a shitty cis partner to a trans person?’

jane grins, opens her computer to an actual, honest to god google doc, and scrolls through it.

‘i started compiling it this morning,’ she says.

‘oh my god.’

she shares it with your email with a triumphant click. ‘i thought you’d never ask.’

you gesture to the computer. ‘you definitely thought i’d ask.’

she nods. ‘that’s true, because you’re an amazing person.’

‘i don’t think this is amazing, just, like, decent?’

‘you’re right.’ she shrugs. ‘you are amazing, though. just, you know, read and listen to some of this stuff, it’s a good baseline, and then ask him if you’re unsure about anything.’

‘yeah,’ you say. you’re both quiet for a minute and then you smile.

‘he’s so fucking cute.’

‘oh my god,’ jane says. ‘where do i even start?’

you’re resting your head on his chest in bed and he kisses the top of your head and then says, ‘you know kat will literally brag about this every single moment, the fact that two of her friends are together and she set us up.’

‘oh,’ you say, looking up so you can see his eyes, ‘so we’re together?’

he looks legitimately nervous and it’s endearing. ‘i—thought so?’

you roll your eyes and kiss him. ‘you’ve been my boyfriend for a hot minute already, don’t worry.’

he tilts his head back. ‘you’re an ass sometimes, you know that?’

‘i’ve been best friends with kat for five years. i have to be.’

jayden laughs and agrees and you prop yourself up on your elbows and kiss him, because kat and adena are always late for brunch, so you definitely have time.

#kadena fic #possibilist #i mean ok kadena is in it for sure but like #sutton brady #the star of the SHOW #jane sloan #also the star of the show tbqh #olivia !!!!#honestly listen i has to go to dumbass smorgasberg today #the fucking wowfull line i stg

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tsgnorthwestarkansas · 5 years

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Up Close & Personal with Sarah Barton of Label

Label in Bentonville has a little something for everybody, and for every one of our moods. When Sarah Barton opened her doors in 2016, her vision was to bring a department store with a boutique feel to Bentonville, but where she could build relationships with her customers. In the past three years, Sarah has built up quite a following in the NWA community, and her vision has come to life. We recently spoke with Sarah about her business, what she’s wearing for the holidays, and why the name Label is actually kind of a funny story...

Can you remember the very first time you realized your passion for fashion?

Many girls love to shop but my love went to another level. I mean, I lived for clothes shopping and helping other people shop for clothes. Even though I loved it so much, I never expected to work in fashion. I studied interior design in college, and had always planned to go into a career in that field. But as my confidence in my fashion sense grew, I realized that this was my true calling.

You always look so fantastic! How would you describe your personal style?

Every day, it changes. I suppose if you had to describe it you might call it feminine with an edge, like a beautiful dress but adding a pair of combat boots and a denim jacket. There are so many styles in this world, I can’t choose one! And that’s also how I stock the store, providing many different options for women like me, who like to play with different styles. I include items for work, going out, always some amazing leather and a solid selection of premium denim. I think of our store like a mini department store, but in a boutique setting.

Sarah’s picks for the holidays: (above) Pair this sparkly Saturday Night Sequin Top with Farrah Leatherette pants and wear on repeat this holiday season; (below) Be the cat’s meow in this Tory Catsuit. Both looks available at Label.

What are you wearing for the holidays?

I always have a good faux fur jacket in my closet that i can throw on with a sparkly tee and jeans or over a black dress. I always say you need one tasteful thing with sparkle for the holidays, but you don’t have to go all out with the holiday sparkle.

Where did the name of your business come from?

It’s actually an oxymoron.The whole mission behind my store is NOT to put a label on yourself. Nobody wants to fit into a box. The store is intended to provide nice, designer clothing without adhering to any specific label. Naming the store Label is just a quirky way of playing around with that idea.

Is there a higher purpose you serve through your passion and business?

I am not a salesperson. I prefer it when my customers come in to simply hang out. For me, it’s all about those relationships we develop, and then when I get to style my customers it’s a perk! When someone comes to me for something really special, and trusts me to help them find the perfect thing to wear on a monumental day, that means so much to me. When you look good, you feel good and you pass those good vibes onto others!!

When did you decide to go into business for yourself? Why?

My husband and I moved to Bentonville from Southeast Arkansas when he took a job with Walmart. I didn’t know a soul here, plus I couldn’t find the exact type of shopping experience I wanted. I was inspired by all of the amazing small businesses and stores that I was seeing, and that helped me take the leap to open my own store. I wanted to meet people and share my vision for a shopping experience with the community.

What is your vision for that shopping experience?

It’s 2019 and you can buy anything you want online and have it delivered in days. What we’re missing is the connection, the sharing of ideas and developing relationships. I don’t want people to come into the store, and then we tell them what they need. I want people to come into the store, we greet them by their name, find out what brands and looks they like, and then we either find something then, or just get to know each other. Later on, we text that person to tell them we have something from their favorite designer in, or we know they have a big anniversary party coming up and we text them when the perfect dress arrives in our inventory.

What is your business's earliest success story?

Somebody new came into the store early on and said to me, “My friend sent me here. You made her feel so good, and I just loved everything she was wearing!” When I opened my doors, I had maybe two local friends who I had met through my husband’s work, so that meant a lot. I started hearing from more and more people who heard from their friends that we had specific brands, or that we were really nice. I started meeting so many local women and people were buying clothes here, too. It felt great!

What is a little known fact about you?

The first thing I do when I go home is put my sweatpants on! I dress the part all day, but then I go from 100 to zero in terms of fashion when I get home, and want to be comfy.

A family affair: Sarah, dressed in her signature picture-perfect style, with son Beau (2), Kevin (husband) and rescue pup, Layla.

As The Scout Guide, we need to know: What are some of your favorite ways to live locally here in NWA?

I live in Bentonville with my husband, Kevin and our two-year-old son, Beau. We live just a few miles down the street from the store and the square, which is very convenient. I always joke if there’s a problem at the store, I can be there in 7 minutes!!

Being on the square in Bentonville is the best! I love the retail history with the original Walton’s 5&10, and all of the amazing shops there today. When I opened a business by myself, I was so amazed at all of the support I received from the other small business owners on the square right off the bat. I lean on my friend Lisa Vinson from Remedy Road, who opened right around the same time that I started and is a young mother too. In Season is a fantastic place I love to support right around the corner. We all cheer each other on!

For fun in Bentonville, we’ve been frequenting the Scott Family Amazeum with Beau and love to go as a family to Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. We eat at Oven and Tap and Pressroom for brunch now that we have a little one this is our favorite meal to enjoy out. And I’m always across the street at the amazing Three Dog Bakery Bentonville getting treats for Layla!

A rack full of sparkles at Label featuring some of Sarah’s current favorite color palettes and lots of textures for the season!

This holiday season, don’t miss the annual Friends and Family Event at Label (Save the Date: Friday, December 13th). Sarah and her team put out champagne and snacks and treat customers to special promotions and a personal shopping experience. It’s one of our favorite ways to take a cheerful break during the busy holiday shopping season (while crossing some items off of our lists, too)!

#livelovelocal #shoplocal #shoplabel #bentonvillear #fashion #tsgnwarkansas #thescoutguide #northwestarkansas

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

Text

New Year, Same Queer (Camren One shot)

Camila hates crowds.

There are always too many people trudging through her personal space and she gets pushed a lot. (One of the many perks of being small and not wearing heels.)

She doesn’t really recall how she ended up in Times Square to watch the ball drop, but she had a faint recollection of Dinah abandoning her midway through this party (after having forced her to go in the first place).

Honestly, she would rather be a curled into a tight, warm burrito roll and read something than be out here. The Polynesian, however, came home to trash all of the small girl’s plans as she threatened to have a party at their place instead, if Camila didn’t agree to go with her.

(Normally, these kinds of threats seem baseless, like who could invite enough people at hours’ notice to throw a party right?

Camila made the mistake of brushing Dinah off once during spring break and awoke to the sound of drunk strangers doing it in her bed. Right next to her.)

The petite brunette sighed and struggled to remain rooted in her spot, against the tide of people who were constantly trying to push her back. The chilly wind made her shudder and she wound the hoodie around herself even more, straining to focus on the stage, a few rows in front of her, where Mariah Carey was trying to lip-sync to her songs and failing miserably to the point, it made no sense. Just like this fucking year.

Abruptly, she experienced a soft pinch on her butt and whipped around to see a middle-aged, balding man throwing her a disgustingly, smug look and a cocky wink while hurrying away, before Camila had a chance to react.

Not that she would have, no. Camila wasn’t exactly timid but she didn’t want to attract further attention to herself by slapping the man. And with her, there were no gentle slaps. She would have slapped him hard enough that the Times Square Ball wouldn’t have been the only ball dropping. But, people would have turned around and noticed her and she really wanted to make it through the night without having a panic attack.

Instinctively, she leaned forward to create some distance between her and the stench of alcohol, the creep had left behind, and rested her face against a cold, smooth surface. It smelled like leather and strawberries. How peculiar.

“Watch it,” the strawberry-scented leather rasped. Leather can talk? Camila’s brows furrowed in confusion as the surface pulled away from her, causing her klutz self, to lose balance and hurl ahead.

She snapped her eyes shut, waiting for ache of her fall to spread through her torso. Instead, she felt warmth and a very soft cushion, encompass her face.

Is she dead?

Her extra, dramatic self was quick to assume the worst had happened. She pictured Dinah’s face struggling between wanting to laugh and cry over the (very) expected nature of her death; tripping over her own two feet. At least, it was painless and now she was in a warmer, spongier place. A reflexive sigh of relief escaped her lips and she snuggled further into the softness.

“Er, excuse me?” And just like that, the tepid bliss left her. Perhaps, Jesus had remembered that one time she ate Dinah’s bananas and convinced her the monkeys stole it or when she had that girl bent over her desk, screaming the Lord’s name in vain; both equally valid reasons to be expelled from Heaven. She opened her eyes and promptly frowned.

Of course, the exact same place where she had died would be Hell.

(At this point, even her brain would have face-palmed if it had hands… or a face…)

Or worse

(Finally Canola.)

…Oh no...

She hadn’t fallen down and died (the more the realization kicked in, the more she wished she had), but instead, fallen on top of somebody and snuggled into their…Oh God…

She grimaced and wished with all her heart that the Earth would crack open and devour her.

A cough and a gentle tap on her shoulder, made her wince, quite audibly. She still refused to look up at the person who was wearing a really nice pair of combat boots. They had such a nice, greenish tinge to them overlaying the jet black. She could already tell by the shoes, this person was one of those really cool people, one would stare at from the distance and sigh, wishing they could know them or be friends with them. (Or bone them.)

A soft but firm squeeze on her shoulders made her realize that the person wasn’t going to walk away without an explanation. Drawing in a couple of deep breaths and trying to form coherent words of explanation, she looked up to see the most enchanting green eyes. She had never felt so naked, then in that particular moment, and the shivers that ran down her spine, weren’t because of the cold. She was so consumed with the eyes that she did not register the movement of lips or the gentle shaking of her shoulders.

“I am so gay.” The small brunette blurted out, what was supposed to be an internal monologue. If her face was red before, it would probably looked like a ripe tomato right now. Her body grew exceedingly hot and her tongue formed knots, as she waited for a probable slap or screaming.

And then the unexpected happened.

The sound of loud laughter followed by a little snort, greeted her ears instead. The mystery girl threw her head back and Camila snapped out of her trance. She took in the dark hair, covered with a maroon beanie, with long curls cascading down the shoulders; full lips dissolved into a fit laughter; a black leather jacket fitting perfectly over a plaid dress. It’s like this girl walked out of a movie.

“At least take me out on a date first, before you get to second base,” the raven-haired beauty spoke in an unwaveringly, raspy voice as she let her green eyes trail over the petite girl’s body, quite shamelessly. And Camila felt so incredibly under-dressed, with her plain black hoodie, tattered denim jeans and dirty Converse.

“Huh- buh- I- er-,”she tried to respond but it’s like her brain had departed her body (probably saying “gotta zayn”). Her own warm, brown eyes widened significantly as she fiddled with her fingers, feeling an anxiety attack about to set in.

But then the smirk on the other girl’s face faltered, and her emerald eyes dilated slightly, as she placed her hand on Camila’s shoulder and spoke in a soft voice. “Hey, are you ok?”

Unable to form words, Camila just nodded and began to draw in large gulps of air. The hand rubbed her shoulder tenderly, and usually a stranger doing so would cause her discomfort. This, however, felt really nice, in a manner that she would willingly be rubbed all over by those hands.

(She made a mental to thank the Lords for preventing her from vocalizing those thoughts.)

After a bit, she finally looked up to meet the captivating eyes and sighed. “I am so, so very sorry. I just tripped and…Jesus…and bananas…” Honestly, how does one explain the situation she had gotten herself into? Hey, this creepy guy touched my butt and I moved forward to get away from him and rested against your back. But then I lingered because you kinda smell like strawberries. And then you moved away, so given how clumsy and extra I am, I fell onto your boobs and thought I had died and gone to Heaven, so I snuggled closer. You have really nice boobs btw.

Before either of them could say anything, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Camila?”

She turned around and was mortified to see her ex beaming at her. The girl looked gorgeous as ever, with her high ponytail and flawless, sculpted face; nestling against the arm of the guy she had dumped Camila for on the day of her birthday. The guy, on the other hand, looked like a bearded egg; with his jeans hanging so low, you could probably see his ass crack, (Ok maybe, she is a little petty) and he had this expression on his face that screamed he would rather be anywhere else.

“It’s so nice to see you!” Ariana lunged forward and gave her hug while doing those really weird, side to side (heh), cheek-air kisses. She stood still and forced a smile when Ariana pulled back under her boy’s smelly armpits

(Karla Camila Petty Cabello Estrabão).

“Oh my God, I never thought YOU would be out here,” the smaller girl flicked her silky hair with a jerk of the wrist and giggled. “I thought you’d either be third-wheeling with Dinah, making stupid jokes or reading a stupid book.” She rolled her eyes and huffed playfully.

“Uhh,” Camila was dumbfounded. She has never been good with voicing her thoughts. She could have the sassiest of comebacks but every time she would try to say them, her words ended up being a horrendously jumbled and incoherent mess (like that book, Fifty Shades of Romanticizing-Abuse-and-Misogyny-as-Long-as-The-Guy-is-Hot).

“I never got to thank Dinah for inviting Mac to your birthday party.” Her ex beamed at her boyfriend who just shrugged and scratched his head, giving her an egg-hausted (P E T T Y) smile in return. “Never would have met my sugar pumpkin, if it hadn’t been for her.” Ariana continued all the while Camila wished a sword-wielding ninja would just come and run the sword through her heart. That would be less cringey than witnessing this cheese-fest.

“Oh I’m sorry boo,” The light haired girl, fake-gasped and looked at her, pitifully. (Clearly, mistaking Camila’s disgust for jealousy.) “I didn’t mean to make you sad…I mean, you’re the only girl I’ve ever been with… so that’s comforting, yeah?”

The English dictionary lacked the words to describe how much the Cuban hated Dinah Jane Hansen. This wouldn’t be happening right now if she hadn’t forced her to go a party and then abandoned her to suck face with some hot, chocolate bae.

(To be honest, the girl had a killer body. Who wouldn’t forget their 16 year old best friend to make out with someone like that?)

She should have just gone home instead but that was more than ten blocks away and something had pulled her to this stupid place; where now her single-self was being pitied by her ex and her ex’s boyfriend, Humpty Dumpty. She has never hated being single, more then at this particular moment. God, she really hated Dinah. Not really. But she would kick that Polynesian butt tomorrow for this horrible start to a new year.

“Hey babe, we’re gonna miss the countdown.”

If the girl hadn’t been standing right next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Camila would have thought she imagined the words. Or that Macaroni, here, had a really feminine voice. But she titled her head and saw the green eyes, glinting with a hint of mischievousness and understanding.

“Who are you?” Ariana said bitterly, while raising her brow. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, diverted his attention to the new girl and grinned, nodding his head in approval, as he checked her out.

“Oh, I’m Lauren.” The full lips curled into a smile as she gave Camila’s shoulder a light squeeze.

Lauren. The brunette couldn’t help but smile at how the name fit her like a glove.

“Camila’s girlfriend.” With those words, Camila’s breath hitched in her throat and the warmest sensation spread through her stomach, threatening to erupt like wildfire, inside her. She was already in love with the way her name sounded, rolling off of Lauren’s lips. “And you are?”

Hoo boi. The way Lauren said it; the dismissal and boredom in her voice as she looked at Ariana, made the brunette want to grab her by the collars and pull her in for a kiss.

“Ariana. Camila and I used to date till I met sugar pumpkin here. She must have mentioned me, I’m the first girl she ever dated.” The small girl flipped her hair again and pursed her lips, slightly narrowing her eyes at Lauren.

“Hmm, nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.” Lauren shrugged and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Camila’s head before moving away. “Nice to meet you though, Sabrina.” She said and shook Ariana’s outstretched hand.

Hoooooooo boi. Rainbows were erupting inside Camila’s heart, unicorns galloping, an immodestly dressed Lauren, with a rose between her teeth, sitting on top of a mountain of bananas; the whole shebang.

The hazel eyes narrowed further as she gritted her teeth. “It’s Ariana. An-” she spoke, but was cut off by the sound of the speakers.

“Everyone grab your special someone and get ready. It’s the final ten seconds!” Ariana squeaked and wrapped her arms around Egg McMuffin’s neck, who placed his hands on her butt cheeks and squeezed them. She slipped a side-glance at Camila who sighed, knowing her jest would be up when her ex sees that she didn’t kiss Lauren.

10….9…8…. The brunette turned to walk away, not wanting to be embarrassed publicly, until she sensed fingers, curl around her wrist, gently and tug her back.

She fell straight into Lauren’s embrace, who secured her hands around Camila’s midriff and smiled.

What

7… Camila’s breath became erratic as she felt the intense emerald gaze piercing her soul. And no, she was not being extra.

6…Lauren drew a little closer and placed one hand on Camila’s cheek, brushing the side of her cheekbone.

5…Camila felt like she would faint when Lauren’s eyes fell to her lips.

4…Lauren ran her tongue, very slowly, over her lips. Camila thought it was rather deliberate.

3…Camila, finally wrapped her arms around Lauren’s neck.

2…Lauren moved her face closer and Camila joined in midway.

1…Lauren bumped her nose slightly with Camila’s and said, “Nice to meet you, Camz.” And any tension Camila felt, evaporated into nothingness.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

She barely heard the announcement or the screaming, as the supple lips were placed against hers. It was tender and yet firm enough for her to lean even closer into Lauren’s body, who tightened her own grasp around the brunette’s waist. Camila’s fingers curled through the dark hair, lightly scratching the scalp; an action that caused Lauren to open her mouth a little further and run her tongue over Camila’s bottom lip who responded a little to enthusiastically.

If Lauren hadn’t pulled away, she would have kissed her for an hour without moving. But the taller girl disconnected their lips without moving away, and Camila never thought she’d ever miss kissing somebody. The incredibly sappiness of the situation disgusted her and warmed her heart at the same time.

“At least take me out on a date, before you move to second base,” Camila whispered, resting her forehead against Laurens’, whose lips twisted into a playful smirk as her own words were being tossed back at her.

“I think kissing is first base. Snuggling into someone’s boobs though…” She grinned and the brunette winced a little, at the memory.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry I just…” Once again, the brown eyes widened and the words became chaotic in her mind.

“Jesus and bananas? I know.” The taller girl laughed and Camila forgot to breathe for a minute. “Perfectly valid reasons.” She nodded and gently tugged at her beanie, smiling earnestly.

It was now or never.

“So about that date…you wouldn’t maybe wanna… you know like…um, you can say no if you want to, it’s no ob-” Camila tried, she really tried to be confident and her start was pretty smooth, but her brain was a little bitch and tends to desert her every single time she tries to flirt. It’s a wonder she even managed to get with Ariana. (Probably because Dinah talked her up and she wasn’t as bad with her hands as she was with her words.)

“I’d love to, Camz.” The green-eyed girl smiled brightly and placed her hand over Camila’s, who entwined their fingers; the nickname making her smile, giddily.

How disgustingly adorable are they.

“Thank God, I thought we’d have to hit all the bases before you agreed to go out with me.”

It was such a terrible joke. Really bad. Ally would have rolled her eyes and Dinah would have punched her but Lauren, once again, threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. And somewhere, deep down, Camila knew she had fallen for that laugh.

With hands linked, they walked away and Camila made a mental note to thank Dinah for dragging her outside and leaving her.

A/N: AYE I AM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY PUT SOMETHING UP!! I hope you guys like it. Please be gentle, I am new to the writing world.

IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER PROMPT REQUESTS PLEASE LEMME KNOW ON MY TUMBLR “adolescent-writer”

Also I love reading comments, they motivate me to write more <3 P.S. I LOVE ARIANA AND MAC THIS WAS ALL FICTIONAL AYE.

#UPDATE #one shot #camren #norminah #humour #romance fluff #submission #New Year Same Queer

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crocifixio · 7 years

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Tribu Biyahero Trek Pants Review - World-class Outdoor Trousers That Spell Pride

I was suffering from spaghetti legs when I finally slid over scree in some precarious segment of the Tawangan Trail. A sharp twig jutting out from nowhere appeared to have arrested my fall, preventing me from falling over the cliff but piercing my trek pants in the process. My trusty ol’ Tribu Biyahero Pants held on to that sharp branch and at the same time, stopped it from impaling me through the groin area. The hole it left looked like it was not about to get worse, in spite of the material not being truly rip-stop.

The pants are now in its fourth year and still serving its purpose.

images grabbed from the Official Tribu website.

I had been a Tribu sandals user since its inception, but I did not know they build pants. In fact, the brand had a slow start when hiking exploded during the mid 2000’s. A fellow hiking buddy was sharp enough to remember that the brand was missing in action but by coincidence, their stand-alone stores popped up and the label had been resurrected. We both got our Tribu pants immediately, and it was not a difficult call to make upon seeing the product.

The key, for me at least, in selecting any apparel is to strike the balance between aesthetics and comfort. The approach applies to the average individual. I believe that those who completely forego one aspect over the other are in the extreme limits. If style does not bother you, then by all means, go out there in floral shorts over tights. Conversely, you can hike in skinny denim if you feel it looks better in pictures. So long as you do not whine over your predicament on the trail, then no problem padre. Whatever sizzles your bacon.

Tribu appears to manage the balance between style and comfort. It boasts of a modern slim fitting form that rivals the cut of a moderate metro dweller’s chinos. The reason why I have not really gravitated towards the earlier locally made hiking pants is because they all looked like 80’s Gray V baggy pants. (Parang hiphop na genie in a bottle, although Lagalag has made vast improvements in their line) They made the crotch in a way that it was set too low to enhance flexibility, but in the process had also increased the chances of jock itch and chafing in the inner thighs. The old timers always had to wear cycling shorts underneath as a workaround. While the slim fitting figure in Tribu seems to hinder a bit of mobility, the stretch panels compensate. I have heard other users of this same pair of pants grumble about the difficulty in stretching the legs on wide strides, particularly on scrambling rocks in long reaches. I have also experienced the same when having to step on a higher ledge. Asian males are born with big thighs, and the stretch panels only accommodate the butt and the knees for this particular model. You will have to select a bigger size if you still want this exact version and at the same time eliminate that drawback.

But those stretch panels truly shine. Obviously not an original idea, the spandex segments in the buttocks region and knees are a first in local products. The material in my pair had withstood countless buttslides and sitting on bare earth/rocks since 2012 and had seen zero damage. The knees have become stretchable and drag has been minimized. An added bonus to that fact is that it does not pull the bottom of the pants upwards when sitting in a crouched position, something that you do a lot in the outdoors. As it happens with other pants, it is always an inconvenience, albeit a minor one, when the bottom of the pants gets inside the collar and/or tongue of your boots as you crouch. Standing back up, you now look like a soldier in combat, not to mention you also lose the only practical gaiters that you have and absentmindedly welcome stones and dirt inside your shoes. So you always have to put back the bottom cuffs of your pants over the top of your hiking boots repeatedly. I have rarely experienced this problem since I shifted to these pants.

There are also countless minor details that make these pants worth the money. The integrated belt over a gartered waist has a clip-over buckle instead of a side-release which also translates to faster disengagement. There are bungee cords and locks at the bottom cuffs. The slash pockets are made of netting fabric but with a non-permeable end to catch some tiny valuables. They are considerably deep and I had no issues with any folding knife clipped inside it for hours- days on end. Back flap pockets are closed by serious Velcro for added security. However, there are also areas for improvement. I just wished the side cargo pockets were big enough for me to stuff more gear, say for example, an Altoids pocket survival kit which I believe must always be on your person. The relative smallness of the cargo pockets renders them virtually useless. I also prefer non-convertible pants for the less attachments there are, the stronger they are made. Belt loops are also too small to hold milspec BDU belts.

All things considered, I am truthfully satisfied with this pair of pants. It is the closest I can get to a Lundhags or a Fjällräven �� two of my dream hard-use trekking pants, which are enough to blow my funds into oblivion (both retail at an average of 180 usd!). I do not know how these Tribu Biyaheros fare in temperate conditions, although it is breathable and all too quick-drying that I had to line them with thermals in my last Pulag sojourn. In the tropics, however, I can confidently say it stands abreast with Craghoppers- the kind that Bear Grylls uses in his shows. This is a world-class, export worthy product and I can buy another pair for its reasonable price.

Shake N Bake!

Some close-up shots, clockwise: the buckle, emblem on the side, cargo pocket zipper pull, pocket turned inside-out

Some great memories with my pants;

L-R: to Tarak Ridge 2012, Tapulao early 2013, Isarog late 2013, Guiting-Guitna 2014

L-R: Arayat 2015, Akiki-Tawangan 2015, Bakun Trio 2016, Tirad Pass/Peak 2017

These pants come in two different colors, Black and Khaki. The “black’ one is actually dark blue with black stretch panels, the khaki variation has dark charcoal grey stretch panels. It retails for about Php 1,550. I got mine from a Tribu boutique in SM Sta Rosa - unfortunately closed already. But it says in their website that they ship and at no cost for items above one thousand pesos.

#pinoymountaineer #hiking #backpacking #apparel #tribu #phmountains #outdoors #nature #mountains #pants #trekking #khaki #trousers #freedomofthehills #mountaineering #tropics

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newtshirtcom · 4 years

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Snoopy I dont always listen to Pink Floyd but when I do I get comfortablynumb shirt

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endlessarchite · 6 years

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My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money

Whenever I’m asked about my clothes, I joke that I wear basically the same thing every day. But it turns out that even after years of saying that (and sharing that I had just one bra for many years on the blog), a whole bunch of people freaked out when they saw the hanging bar in my closet on Instagram recently. I got FLOODED with DMs about my sparse mostly black wardrobe. One person even said that seeing my closet was, and I quote: “the wildest thing they’ve seen on the internet in 2018.” That’s quite the statement considering 2018 also gave us Gritty.

To clarify I don’t actually wear the same items of clothing every day on repeat – I just have a fairly small number of clothes that I love and wear all the time – all of which are pretty similar in color/style/silhouette – which I lovingly call “my uniform.” Think Steve Jobs or Michael Kors… except with fewer turtlenecks and less of that billionaire vibe.

I’m not doing laundry any more frequently than anyone else (we do it once a week around here, which I think is pretty average), so it’s just about having enough outfits that you love to get you from laundry day to laundry day (whether they need to be warm, or dressy, or whatever works for your life) without having a ton of extra stuff that’s in the way of the things that you actually wear.

So if you’re tired of drawers and closets that are overflowing, or you love the idea of a more minimal wardrobe full of things you love – and less money spent on clothing excess – then this post is for you. There are definitely people with even fewer clothes, and folks who have other methods for paring down, but I’m just gonna lay out what works for me. And if you’re a wardrobe maximalist who loves having tons of clothes and a bunch of different looks and you ADORE your extensive wardrobe, then this post is not for you (do whatever works for you, boo! I’m ALL FOR THAT!).

Ok, so my plan is just to take you through my closet and all of my drawers, talk you through my process/formula for keeping my wardrobe minimal, and show you how I can create a bunch of outfits (from casual to dressy and from warm weather to cold weather) from a pretty pared down number of tops and bottoms that I lovingly refer to as: “my uniform.”

And it bears mentioning that even if you have a completely different dress code for your profession, or if you hate the way I dress and the colors/styles/silhouettes that I wear, this is a formula. So you can plug in your favorite silhouettes and colors and everything else that YOU love to make this work for you!

Closet Video Tour

Let’s kick this puppy off with a video tour. I know you have questions (I vividly remember all those DMs I got on Instagram), but pictures are worth 1,000 words, and a video is worth 1,000 pictures. So I’m walking you through my closet and opening all of my drawers (and John’s – haha!) to show you exactly what I have and how I store it along with sharing a little bit more about why/how it works for me. Note: if you can’t see the video below and are reading this post in a feed reader, you might have to click through to the original post to see it. We also uploaded it here on YouTube.

Update: Got a few questions about where my painting clothes are since you saw John’s in the video, but I have a very *strange* method that we’ve actually shared in the archives. I paint with my PJs on inside out. You can see my tags sticking out in all their glory in this old post from 2011. Never said I was normal, guys!

Ok, so now that you’ve seen where everything is, and heard me talk a little bit about my uniform, let’s dive a little deeper. I’m just gonna answer things Q&A style for you below.

How Does A “Uniform” Work?

I’m not talking about a school uniform where your closet is filled with dozens of identical skirts and polos here, but it is almost like finding your own personal “dress code” – meaning the cuts, colors, and styles that you love the most and feel great in. Because if you find something that works, it makes sense that it’s going to be the thing that you’ll reach for and wear a whole lot more than everything else. So why not take a second to figure out why it works and why you love it so much so you can love every last item in your closet that much?! Sounds good, right?

That’s the core idea behind my “uniform” – just figuring out what you love and stopping the vicious cycle of buying other things to stay “on trend” or for the sake of “variety” or to “look different” and then realizing months later that you never wear them because they don’t make you feel as good or you don’t like the cut or the color nearly as much as your tried and true favorites. And the amazing thing is that once you truly understand why you like what you like, you can stand in a store or the dressing room and eliminate clothing that doesn’t fit within that criteria without much effort or thought! You can literally stop the cycle of buying yet another thing that you won’t really love AND you can keep your closet and drawers from filling up with unnecessary extras. Plus you get to keep a little more cash in your wallet.

I don’t think there’s just one magic wardrobe number that works for everyone (someone who goes to the gym every day or lives on a farm or does a team sport may have a need for more laundry/clothing than someone who doesn’t) but I’ll show you my “uniforms” in a second, just to serve as an example. Oh and I say “uniforms” with an S because there can be different ones for different seasons and occasions, like casual weekend uniforms, workout uniforms, work uniforms, etc. And the key is just to figure out how many of those you actually need and not have double or triple that amount all squeezed into your drawers and falling all over the floor of your closet. And did I mention you can save that money? I did? Ok, good. Just making sure.

So don’t tell yourself that just because you work in an office and have to dress up, or because you live in a colder climate that you can’t have a simpler closet. It’s not true!! I dressed myself with this method all the way back in NYC when I had an office job that necessitated me dressing up all the time. And this was in a colder climate where I walked city streets and stood on frigid subway platforms – so I definitely needed all the layering I could get. Why does it still work, even if you have to dress up or add a coat and a scarf and a hat? Because in the end, this is all math, GLORIOUS MATH!

What Exact Items Are In My “Uniform”?

If you’ve followed us for any amount of time, you probably already know my uniform. Black v-neck tops. Jeans. Black scoop neck tanks. Denim shorts. Blazers. Leather or suede jackets. More blazers. And a black dress or two to round things out. It has become kind of a joke, because you guys keep seeing me in a blazer at basically every speaking event or book signing. But here’s the thing: it’s not an accident. Because it’s the way I dress. It has become my uniform for those sorts of things – because I like the way they feel and look on me. And I actually reach for them in my closet and wear them (yesssssss) so I know they don’t sit around wasting space. And therefore I love these items. They work hard for me, make me feel good, and earn their space in my closet.

Six years of living in New York City instilled my love of black, and while I do branch out occasionally (I’ve been known to get wild and throw some navy or olive green in here and there) I’ve learned over the years that when I deviate and buy something in a brighter color, I rarely end up wearing it regularly because – well – I always have other options in my closet that I like better. And guess what? They’re black. It was something I had to realize over time, but ever since I embraced my love of black and stopped trying to make myself wear other colors that I ultimately didn’t wear because I didn’t like them as much (vicious cycle, much?!), two things have happened: 1) I feel GOOD in my clothes. Like all the time. There’s zero clothing drama for me when I get dressed. 2) I’ve stopped wasting money and time buying items I’ll probably just return or donate later. It’s freeing!

top: Old Navy but no longer sold / jeans / heels

I’ve also learned over the years that most of my favorite tops are a little more fitted than the average loose fitting cut, because it helps my 5’2″ body look a little less amorphous – like I’m wearing a potato sack. This realization makes it easy to pass over anything with a drapey look in the store – no matter how glamorous it looks on the mannequin or some long torsoed girl in the fitting room.

Same thing with shorts. I buy short shorts, because I’m petite and when I have tried buying longer shorts, they make me look frumpy, like I’m going golfing or something. And then I’d give those shorts the stink eye for wasting space in my drawer and eventually donate them. But the realization that shorter shorts work better for my body has been freeing. I no longer waste time or money buying longer shorts “just for variety” or to have “something different” because they don’t look as good on me – so duh, of course I won’t wear them as much and they’ll eventually end up in the donate pile!

Same thing with a certain cut of jeans or something. It’s easy to fall for the marketing that says “this bellbottom highwater pant that ends at your shin is the new cool thing!” but I gotta tell ya… it might not be something you actually like or feel good in. So I’m not saying blanketly that you should avoid all trends, but before you go to the store, just look through your clothes and see what you don’t wear – then figure out why. If you pull out one pair of jeans with a different cut that you bought “just to be different” but you never wear them because you don’t like how they look as much as every other pair you have, it’s a whole lot easier to dodge the urge to do that very same thing in the dressing room the next time around.

So let’s say you get to this point and you’re like “uh, but all of your clothes are black. That is so boring. I would die.” Yes, my clothes are mostly black. But this works with all the colors of the rainbow (and all styles and all body types). If you pull out your very favorite outfits from your closet – just the things you actually wear and love – and lay them on the bed, I’m betting they might have some things in common. Even if there are a bunch of different colored items on the bed. I would bet there are still some colors that come up more because you love how you look and feel in them. And you might also notice some trends with cut/silhouette, because chances are if a certain cut of jeans makes you feel your best, it may also be your favorite cut of dress pants. And you might have a few blazers or jackets with similar shapes that hit your body at just the right spot or something. Things are your favorite for a reason, right!?

I’m also a big fan of layering. It’s how I made it work in NYC while working in an agency where I had to get dressed up without even having a dresser in my apartment. That’s right, I had one small and narrow closet and that was it. So I taught myself to layer things. Five shirts that can be layered under five different jackets or blazers = 25 different combinations!!! I mean, how awesome is that math?! And if you add a few different pairs of shoes and some fun jewelry to switch out too, it’s a whole lot of looks without having a whole lot of things. Did I just have five of each thing? No, that would probably feel a little tight – but I probably had under 10 tops that I layered with maybe 7 blazers/jackets/cardigans and then had maybe 5 options for bottoms (jeans if I didn’t have to present that day, and black pants if I did).

The funny thing is that my current “typical uniform” of a black top + denim bottom is that it replicates exactly what I did in NYC when I worked in an office – it’s just a little less dressy. So I can easily transition between summer and winter just by layering – which is exactly what I did back then. When it gets cold I just swap my denim shorts or skirt for skinny jeans, and I throw a jacket right over my black summer tank (maybe a black leather jacket or a crisp blazer or an olive green faux suede jacket). It can even go from casual to somewhat-dressy (like a date night) because I can toss on some cute heels and big earrings and I’m ready to go!

jeans / black tank / green faux suede jacket / leopard heels

How To Pare Down Your Closet

Now I’m not in a position to tell you what YOUR uniform should look like, but one super easy tip for figuring yours out is to do what I touched on a little earlier in this section. Just pull all of your very favorite outfits out – the ones you love and wear all the time – and lay them on your bed. Then count them. You might literally have enough right there to take you from laundry day to laundry day. If so: congrats! That is your uniform! Right there on the bed! The rest is excess and it can be shoved into a big tupperware bin or two and stashed in the attic or garage. Just see if you even need those items at all. This is the training wheels method – if you need something you can take it back out – but if you don’t miss it and this helps to show you that it’s just dead weight in your closet or your drawers, it feels amazing to consign or donate that extra fluff and just have a wardrobe you LOVE and actually wear!

Ok, but say you only have like five outfits on the bed and you need more than that to get you from laundry day to laundry day. The next step would be to try to identify the common threads, because you need more clothes that make you feel this way. Is it a certain color or color family that you notice when you stare at the winning clothes on the bed? Maybe it’s four favorite colors and tones instead of just one like me? Is it a certain cut? Maybe a fitted silhouette in general or a more voluminous skirt if you feel your best in something fun and swingy? Do a bunch of your favorite outfits follow the same “formula” – maybe a wrap dress with a cardigan and a cute colorful flat? Try to boil things down as much as you can so you have as much direction as you can moving forward. Try not to just say “I like boho stuff” or “anything at Anne Taylor!” because that won’t help you as much as a more detailed set of parameters will.

Calculating Your Closet Needs

Again, this isn’t about hitting a certain fixed number or quota in my closet, but I do find that thinking about this in numbers is helpful – especially just in illustrating why a lot of us have too many pieces in our closets and drawers. The basic idea is to have enough items to get you from one laundry day to the next, with a few – but not too many – extras (you know, in case you spill OJ down your shirt or you run a bit behind on washing a load).

We do laundry about once per week in our household, so I have 10 “bottoms” in my wardrobe to cover those 7 days: 4 pairs of jeans, 4 pairs of shorts, 1 skirt, and 1 pair of yoga pants (I also have a few dresses for dressier occasions). And no, I’m not wearing shorts in the winter to get from laundry day to laundry day – I just don’t wash my denim after each wear because I’m a rule follower and it’s not recommended (don’t torture your jeans, guys!). So 4 pairs of jeans or 4 pairs of denim shorts easily last me 7 days if I wear a few of them twice before tossing them into the hamper. Nobody has ever told me that I smell, and children are VERY honest, so I feel good about this.

Ok, so now forget about me and think about all the different uniforms YOU might need for your lifestyle, whatever that may be – like for work or exercising – and actually add up in your head how many of those outfits you’ll need to get you through to your next laundry day. Keep that number in mind. Next, peek into your closet and drawers and just look at the actual number of things you have. If you count 25 t-shirts and tanks for summer, I’d guess that you probably wear your favorite 10-ish tops on repeat from laundry day to laundry day, and the other 15 items stay shoved wherever they always live, just taking up space because you have so many other items that you like more. If that is the case – just keep your 10 favorites and put the rest into the tupperware bin. You can do this. It’s not permanent. It’s just to see if you really do miss them or need them.

The same logic applies to any part of your uniform. Why own 6 bathing suits if you only rotate between the 2 that you like best?! John recently realized he had 8 running shirts in his drawer but was only wearing 3 each week, washing them, and repeating that. This realization not only helped him get rid of those space-stealing extras (he still kept a couple back-ups) but it reminded him that he doesn’t need to buy any more when he’s standing there in the store staring at them. Win-win.

And for anyone who worries that just having a small number of favorite staples (aka: a uniform) might make you look like you’re wearing the exact same thing every day – it definitely doesn’t have to. Even with my very limited palette, I put together this little visual to show you how easy it is to layer things and change accessories to really switch things up. YAY PERMUTATIONS! I TOLD YOU THIS WAS MATH!

So those are some of the combinations I can make out of a few of my favorite items in my closet. Note that there are 10 different outfits in the image above – and they’re all made from just 4 different tops, 6 bottoms, and 2 dresses (the patterned skirt-looking-thing is a dress that feels too crazy for me, so I layer a tank over it to make it look like a skirt).

I love this demonstration because at first thought you might say… “Ok so if I want to have 10 work outfits and 7 causal outfits to get me from laundry day to laundry day comfortably with some wiggle room, that means I need 17 bottoms and 17 tops.” But wait! That’s bad math! Think about how you rewear your denim and maybe even a blazer if you don’t feel like it got too dirty – and then think about how many combo moves you can make by layering things in different ways! Remember that the 10 outfits above are made from just 12 pieces – not the 20+ you might initially think would be needed if you just assumed you’d need different bottoms and tops every single day.

Am I rewearing those black tanks between washes? Nope! So it does bear mentioning that I love those so much, and I wear them so often, that I have three of them. They’re inexpensive and so versatile and they stay looking crisp and fresh that way. So occasionally purchasing multiples of something that you wear a ton can be an awesome way to keep it looking nice long-term and allow yourself to wear it in a few different ways throughout the week.

A Few Other Reasons We Buy Stuff We Don’t Wear

A big part of my method is just being honest with myself about what I actually wear day in and day out, and then being willing to let go of the rest of the stuff that’s taking up space. I know a lot of us hold onto clothes that we think that we’ll wear for some future hypothetical occasion or circumstance (“aspirational wardrobe” is what I call it – it’s when you buy some item for some imaginary very glamorous event but you never actually wear it because this is real life and not the Simms, so you don’t actually go to those types of events). So sometimes that’s what gets us into this overcrowded closet situation.

It also might be a good deal that tips the scales for you (“ooh these are so cheap, I can’t say no! I’ve gotta have them even though I have 15 shirts I like better BECAUSE THESE ARE TWO DOLLARS!”). Or it could be this idea that buying a certain thing will make you more stylish or pulled together (but then you never actually wear it because it turns out you wear/love super comfy clothes and that item that looks more pulled together is way less comfy than your soft and cozy favorites, so…).

What About That One Super Colorful Thing In Your Closet?

See this colorful dress? I know, it’s kind of hilarious next to everything else in my closet. But it fills a need, and I wear it often enough to warrant it staying. Why do I have it? Well, it’s kind of like my one fake uniform. I like how I look and feel in black, but every few months or so we need to give someone a bio picture or get dressed up for a photoshoot (like for our furniture line for example) and this dress comes with me. All black in a picture can look like a big dark hole amongst an otherwise fun and colorful shot, so I literally bought this dress from J. Crew Outlet a few years ago just for photos. Life is weird, huh?!

But we might all have strange wardrobe guidelines. Mine might be weirder than yours, but I’m sharing this because the instinct might be to tell yourself “hey I have this weird part of my life and I need some outfits for that, so I should probably grab like 10” – but in reality, I don’t need 10 colorful “fake uniforms” – one does the trick. So I have one.

Shopping Tip: Protect Your Closet GPA

Here’s another way to think about paring down your closet: you want to maintain a high closet GPA (grade point average). This is how I’ve been thinking about my closet for YEARS, and it really helps me avoid impulse purchases. Imagine giving every item of clothing that you already own a grade that’s based on how much you like it AND actually wear it. The things you wear all the time and love are As. Wahoo – working towards that perfect 4.0 average.

But that random yellow sweater you picked up on a whim or because it was on sale, and have only worn once… well that stinker is closer to D or F territory. IT IS BRINGING DOWN YOUR ENTIRE CLOSET’S GPA. You want your closet to be filled with your very favorite and most wearable items – so when you’re out shopping, think to yourself “is this new shirt better than all the other shirts I already have, so it’ll bring up my average – or do I love everything I have more than this shirt? Because if the latter is the case, that bad boy is gonna bring down your GPA – and ain’t nobody got time for that.

I think in general we tend to overcomplicate our clothing needs – and stores are constantly telling us we need something new, different, and trendy in order to look better or live a happier life or whatever story they’re trying to tell you when you see those people dashing across the street and hailing a cab in the commercials. Once I got really really happy with my clothes (they make me feel good! I love everything in my closet!) that’s like armor against all of those temptations to buy the newest and trendiest clothing and accessories.

You Don’t Have To Be Minimal Everywhere

I’m not a minimalist in every stretch of the word, though! So here’s a caveat to help you embrace whatever items you might actually not want to pare down at all. This minimal wardrobe of mine is about making my life easier and making me happy – it’s not about deprivation! AT ALL! So take my earrings for example. I probably have over 20 pairs of big fun earrings along with some classic studs and other jewelry like a few bracelets, a watch, a few necklaces.

That might be a lot to you!! You might not even have one pair of big dangly earrings. But for me, they’re part of my uniform – just like blazers and black tanks. So I embrace the fact that I have this many. I’m totally cool with it, and I don’t beat myself up. Incidentally, I think my love of them grew in NYC when I had no space for lots of clothes but I could always fit a few more earrings in my tiny apartment! Ha!

Does Owning Less Cause More Wear?

I got a lot of questions about how my clothes hold up if I’m wearing and washing each item more often. I see how someone could jump to that conclusion, but… drumroll please… I’m just washing things once a week like everyone else. Everything you wear, you launder it every 7 days or so, on average, right? And you probably wear your favorite 10 or so outfits and then you launder them. Well same for me! I just don’t have that extra stuff hanging between each item or shoved into the back of the drawer.

Since I have fewer items, I’m encouraged to take better care of them. Things aren’t getting shoved or crammed onto a rod or into a drawer, and they’re not sitting crumpled somewhere because I don’t have space. I hesitate to say they’re “precious” (I do most of my shopping at places like Old Navy and Target) but when I have fewer backup items, I’m more inclined to take the time to get stains out, fix missing buttons, or follow the proper care instructions with the things I do own.

tank / jeans / fitbit

In fact, I am SUPER NICE to my stuff because my uniforms work hard for me. I like to wash everything in cold water (helps to lock in colors/black), I wash denim and black things inside out (helps with fading), and I always do a gentle wash and a tumble dry low (nothing too harsh for my babies, I mean clothes). I also always try to put laundry away right after it’s done, so I’m not losing track of piles of clothes and then rewashing them because I’m not sure if they’re clean or dirty – which is definitely something that my friends with more clothes say happens to them.

I have blazers and jackets and tops and jeans that I’ve owned for three or even over five years… so it’s not like I’m rebuying this “minimal wardrobe” every season or even every year. Most of my staples work for at least a few years, although I do buy a few multiples of inexpensive items (like my black tanks) so they stay looking fresher for longer.

How I Combine My Outfits

This is pretty self-explanatory, so I’m not gonna linger on it too much (and your closet favorites might look completely different than mine do), but seeing how I switch out shoes and jewelry and purses or some other thing below might just help the whole “permutations” thing click into place in your head, so here we go…

These are examples of what I might wear on a date night or to a work meeting or something. You can see the “uniform” in total effect here. Both outfits are skinny pants + a fitted tank + a jacket (blazer on the right, leather jacket on the left). I like to play around with shoes and jewelry, so that helps to add a little something extra for me, and I’m good to go.

Left: jeans / heels / similar top / leather jacket

Right: jeans / shoes / striped tank / blazer / necklace / watch

This is another example of what I might wear if I want to be slightly dressier for a holiday gathering or some sort of dinner out or party or something. Once again it’s skinnies on the bottom, a fitted top, and some big earrings and fun shoes. I like a simple black clutch too (hi, have you met me? I like simple black accessories). One funny thing I didn’t even realize until I took these photos is that I also like nude and leopard in my shoes along with black.

Left: jeans / heels / top / black clutch / earrings

Right: jeans / leopard flats / top / green jacket / similar earrings / black clutch

This is an example of what I might wear in the summer to a super casual something (on the right) and a slightly less casual something else (on the left). Oh and to everyone who asked what I walk in (because I’ve been doing these awesome long walks over lunch or after bedtime) and the answer is: whatever outfit I wear that day + sneakers or even flip flops in the summer. I can’t stress how chill these walks are (there’s no sweatband and sprinting, these are delightful strolls) so as long as I have deodorant on, I’m good.

Left: skirt / similar shoes / striped tank / clutch / earrings

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / similar earrings /similar sunglasses

Here are some more summer casual “uniforms” I wear all the time. It may shock you to learn that my everyday purse is this tan crossbody bag (WHAT, IT’S NOT BLACK?!?!), but the reason I love it is because I’m almost always wearing black, so I like that it adds something interesting with another color and goes with everything.

Left: shorts / sandals / striped tank /similar sunglasses

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / earrings / similar purse /similar sunglasses

If I want to dress up a little for some reason (or no reason – I once wore the long black dress on the right to an ice cream parlor with the kids) these might be what I wear. I mentioned before that the left outfit looks like it’s made up of a patterned skirt and a tank but it’s actually a dress that feels way too crazy to me when it’s worn that way but I LOVE it with a black tank layered over it. Once again I add cute shoes and some big earrings and either of these outfits have me out the door in minutes. Isn’t it funny that they have the same silhouette too? Creature of habit right here ;)

Left: dress / tank / similar shoes / similar earrings

Right: dress / leopard flats / earrings / similar purse / similar sunglasses

Got Any Tips For Minimizing Kids Clothing?

There are lots of tricks for determining what you or your kids actually wear, versus what you think you wear. Like turning all of the hangers in one direction and then turning them around once an item is worn. The theory is that after a couple of weeks or months you can see exactly what didn’t get touched. You can also move everything to one side of your hanging rod and move it back once it has been worn. Any version of that works well for hanging clothes, but lots of us – especially kids – store big chunks of their wardrobe in drawers. BUT I HAVE A SOLUTION!

You just have to do one simple thing each week for a few weeks in a row. Ready for it? Just look in their drawers and at their hanging bar on laundry day. That means the things they love most and have already worn are all in the hamper, so they’ve sort of naturally selected their favorites for you – but instead of putting them on the bed they’re all nicely coralled in the hamper.

So with their favorites pulled out of the fray, go through their drawers and their hanging bar and take note of what’s left. If you do this for a few weeks in a row, you’ll start to notice a theme. Certain items never leave the drawer. A few things might always get shoved in the back of the closet or balled up on the floor. VOILA – there is your excess! Put that in a tupperware bin and see if you ever even need it again! And if you don’t, gleefully donate or consign it. And then remember what those “space wasters” were when you’re standing in the store about to buy another outfit for them – just to be sure you’re not repeating some pattern of thinking they’ll wear some item when in actuality they never do.

Whew. Ok, that’s 5,688 words and I’m feeling ready to call this turkey of a post done. I hope this was helpful in some way if you’re looking for ways to simplify the clothing situation in your house.

Psst – If you’re looking for more on this subject, here’s an old post I wrote about my clothing, here’s an awesome book called Simplicity Parenting that talks about decision fatigue and simplifying our homes in general (it totally changed my life and I’ve read it 3 times), and here’s a podcast we did with an amazing man named Matt who worked on the show Hoarders, and has some pretty enlightening and kind things to say about paring down. Also Katie Bower did a post about her one-rack wardrobe yesterday, which was a fun read too!

*This post contains affiliate links*

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truereviewpage · 6 years

Text

My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money

Closet Video Tour

Ok, so now that you’ve seen where everything is, and heard me talk a little bit about my uniform, let’s dive a little deeper. I’m just gonna answer things Q&A style for you below.

How Does A “Uniform” Work?

What Exact Items Are In My “Uniform”?

top: Old Navy but no longer sold / jeans / heels

jeans / black tank / green faux suede jacket / leopard heels

How To Pare Down Your Closet

Calculating Your Closet Needs

A Few Other Reasons We Buy Stuff We Don’t Wear

What About That One Super Colorful Thing In Your Closet?

Shopping Tip: Protect Your Closet GPA

You Don’t Have To Be Minimal Everywhere

Does Owning Less Cause More Wear?

tank / jeans / fitbit

How I Combine My Outfits

Left: jeans / heels / similar top / leather jacket

Right: jeans / shoes / striped tank / blazer / necklace / watch

Left: jeans / heels / top / black clutch / earrings

Right: jeans / leopard flats / top / green jacket / similar earrings / black clutch

Left: skirt / similar shoes / striped tank / clutch / earrings

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / similar earrings /similar sunglasses

Left: shorts / sandals / striped tank /similar sunglasses

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / earrings / similar purse /similar sunglasses

Left: dress / tank / similar shoes / similar earrings

Right: dress / leopard flats / earrings / similar purse / similar sunglasses

Got Any Tips For Minimizing Kids Clothing?

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money appeared first on Young House Love.

My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money published first on https://aireloomreview.tumblr.com/

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statusreview · 6 years

Text

My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money

Closet Video Tour

Ok, so now that you’ve seen where everything is, and heard me talk a little bit about my uniform, let’s dive a little deeper. I’m just gonna answer things Q&A style for you below.

How Does A “Uniform” Work?

What Exact Items Are In My “Uniform”?

top: Old Navy but no longer sold / jeans / heels

jeans / black tank / green faux suede jacket / leopard heels

How To Pare Down Your Closet

Ok, but say you only have like five outfits on the bed and you need more than that to get you from laundry day to laundry day. The next step would be to try to identify the common threads, because you need more clothes that make you feel this way. Is it a certain color or color family that you notice when you stare at the winning clothes on the bed? Maybe it’s four favorite colors and tones instead of just one like me? Is it a certain cut? Maybe a fitted silhouette in general or a more voluminous skirt if you feel your best in something fun and swingy? Do a bunch of your favorite outfits follow the same “formula” – maybe a wrap dress with a cardigan and a cute colorful flat? Try to boil things down as much as you can so you have as much direction as you can moving forward. Try not to just say “I like boho stuff” or “anything at Anne Taylor!” because that won��t help you as much as a more detailed set of parameters will.

Calculating Your Closet Needs

A Few Other Reasons We Buy Stuff We Don’t Wear

What About That One Super Colorful Thing In Your Closet?

Shopping Tip: Protect Your Closet GPA

You Don’t Have To Be Minimal Everywhere

Does Owning Less Cause More Wear?

tank / jeans / fitbit

How I Combine My Outfits

Left: jeans / heels / similar top / leather jacket

Right: jeans / shoes / striped tank / blazer / necklace / watch

Left: jeans / heels / top / black clutch / earrings

Right: jeans / leopard flats / top / green jacket / similar earrings / black clutch

Left: skirt / similar shoes / striped tank / clutch / earrings

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / similar earrings /similar sunglasses

Left: shorts / sandals / striped tank /similar sunglasses

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / earrings / similar purse /similar sunglasses

Left: dress / tank / similar shoes / similar earrings

Right: dress / leopard flats / earrings / similar purse / similar sunglasses

Got Any Tips For Minimizing Kids Clothing?

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money appeared first on Young House Love.

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billydmacklin · 6 years

Text

My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money

Closet Video Tour

Ok, so now that you’ve seen where everything is, and heard me talk a little bit about my uniform, let’s dive a little deeper. I’m just gonna answer things Q&A style for you below.

How Does A “Uniform” Work?

What Exact Items Are In My “Uniform”?

top: Old Navy but no longer sold / jeans / heels

Same thing with a certain cut of jeans or something. It’s easy to fall for the marketing that says “this bellbottom highwater pant that ends at your shin is the new cool thing!” but I gotta tell ya… it might not be something you actually like or feel good in. So I’m not saying blanketly that you should avoid all trends, but before you go to the store, just look through your clothes and see what you don’t wear – then figure out why. If you pull out one pair of jeans with a different cut that you bought “just to be different” but you never wear them because you don’t like how they look as much as ever other pair you have, it’s a whole lot easier to dodge the urge to do that very same thing in the dressing room the next time around.

jeans / black tank / green faux suede jacket / leopard heels

How To Pare Down Your Closet

Calculating Your Closet Needs

The same logic applies to any part of your uniform. Why own 6 bathing suits if you only rotate between the 2 that you look best in?! John recently realized he had 8 running shirts in his drawer but was only wearing 3 each week, washing them, and repeating that. This realization not only helped him get rid of those space-stealing extras (he still kept a couple back-ups) but it reminded him that he doesn’t need to buy any more when he’s standing there in the store staring at them. Win-win.

I love this demonstration because at first thought you might say… “Ok so if I want to have 10 work outfits and 7 causal outfits to get me from laundry day to laundry day comfortably with some wiggle room, that means I need 17 bottoms and 17 tops.” But wait! That’s bad math! Think about how you rewear your denim and maybe even a blazer if you don’t feel like it got too dirty – and then think about how many combo moves you can make by layering things in different ways! Remember that the 10 outfits above that are made from just 12 pieces – not the 20+ you might initially think would be needed if you just assumed you’d need different bottoms and tops every single day.

A Few Other Reasons We Buy Stuff We Don’t Wear

What About That One Super Colorful Thing In Your Closet?

Shopping Tip: Protect Your Closet GPA

You Don’t Have To Be Minimal Everywhere

Does Owning Less Cause More Wear?

tank / jeans / fitbit

How I Combine My Outfits

Left: jeans / heels / similar top / leather jacket

Right: jeans / shoes / striped tank / blazer / necklace / watch

Left: jeans / heels / top / black clutch / earrings

Right: jeans / leopard flats / top / green jacket / similar earrings / black clutch

Left: skirt / similar shoes / striped tank / clutch / earrings

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / similar earrings /similar sunglasses

Left: shorts / sandals / striped tank /similar sunglasses

Right: shorts / sandals / tank / earrings / similar purse /similar sunglasses

Left: dress / tank / similar shoes / similar earrings

Right: dress / leopard flats / earrings / similar purse / similar sunglasses

Got Any Tips For Minimizing Kids Clothing?

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post My Minimal Wardrobe – How Having A “Uniform” Simplifies My Closet & Saves Me Money appeared first on Young House Love.

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