#where's the 'totem pole' suit fans at

[hooked-on-elvis]

✨ ELVIS IN 1975 WEARING THE TOTEM POLE (GYPSY) SUIT ✨

Credits to fan 'Gogatine PF' for sharing those amazing pictures on Facebook fanpage 'Gentle On My Mind Fan Club Italy Recognized EPE'

#where's the 'totem pole' suit fans at #this is for us #okay... now this is just mean of elvis' part #why so hot #why look at the camera like that #why smile like that #why wearing chokers #were you seriously trying to kill us little boy #elvis #1975 #elvis jumpsuits

[dojae-huh]

so excited for jaehyun’s drama. So far i’ve seen two popular senior actors revealed to star in the show. It’s definitely a bigger scale than dear m. Plot wise is heavier as well. Though the rich and poor dynamic is often represented in kdrama, i’m waiting for the way they tell the story and the acting as well.

i have a question tho. Do korean agencies usually announce if an actor is confirmed to be on a drama? As far as i know, no agency will announce officially on their platform during the filming stage. We’d usually know from articles that says “This actor is reportedly/ rumored to play in …”. After filming and promotion starts, only then the agency would announce right? I see the same pattern with other acting agency as well. Just saw some people make it a mistreatment issue when sm doesn’t announce that jae accepts to be in the drama.

Sorry, I don't have an answer to your question. I don't think there is a point for the agency to announce anything before the official release date. So many things can go wrong (cancellation of the project, postponement of the release, the idol getting sick and declining the role in the end). For example, Jaehyun was supposed to play in a musical. Fans were so excited, watched the original to get to know the material beforehand, discussed if the role suited Jaehyun. Where is the result? It simply didn't happen.

Fans complain because without such posts on the group's socmed stans of other members stay unaware of the achievements of their bias. It's popularity Olympics. For the member in question it changes nothing otherwise. I mean, announcements of upcoming projects won't hurt, it would be nice to have a well kept official news-account for the whole group, but it's not a big deal either.

I hope the new tv-series is good. Jaehyun is not a person who would be interested in acting for popularity or the lable (actors are higher on the totem pole in SK). With his looks and inexperience there was a danger he would be put into a box, type casted. Which would be against his interest.

After Dear.M Jae wanted to play a gay character (a soul of a female reincarnated in a male body, who found the lover from the previous life, and despite being same-sex they fell in love again) in a remake of an old movie (Bungy jumping with you). It was a serious story about homophobia, star-crossed lovers, society acceptance, self-acceptance, etc.

This choice made it clear Jaehyun didn't want to take on another stupid role.

[jackjolene]

My Control Headcanons: Jesse’s Outfits

Poster’s Note: This post is on my headcanons concerning the wardrobe of Jesse Faden, the main character of one of my favorite games, Control. I was unable to unlock all of the outfits due to being a PC gamer.

Off duty and outside of the FBC Building, Jesse wears her civilian outfit. It’s the only one that she brought with her to New York; she was in a big hurry to find Dylan and the people who took him. It’s also one of her outfits for when she has to go undercover.

As a big fan of “Undercover Boss”, Jesse uses the Janitor’s Assistant and the Office Assistant outfits to see how things are going at the bottom of the FBC’s totem pole. As someone who was once a janitor herself, she feels its important to remember where she came from. 

Whenever Jesse feels the desire to dress like a superhero, the Asynchronous Suit is her go-to. Alternately, as a fan of Brandon Sanderson’s “Mistborn” series, she likes to think that it’s a good approximation of a mistcloak.

When it comes to work, Jesse can choose between either the Director’s Suit or the Golden Suit. The Director’s Suit is for day-to-day stuff, while the Golden Suit is reserved for special occasions or meeting with VIPs, such as the President.

Jesse uses the Candidate P7 outfit as sleepwear or to relax in at her apartment. While it is a reminder of the Prime Candidate Program, it is very comfortable.

Jesse wears the Expedition Gear when at an Active Threshold (such as the Mold Threshold or the Black Rock Quarry) or in the Foundation. It has excellent resistance against wear and tear.

When exploring another dimension entirely, Jesse wears the Extradimensional Suit. It’s good for protecting her from the negative effects of different laws of reality and physics on the human body.

While Jesse’s healing ability also applies to whatever she’s wearing, the Tactical Response outfit is the best for combat situations. It’s mostly for getting her into the right mindset.

 When going to the Astral Plain, Jesse wears the Astral Dive suit, which improves her the connection between her abilities in the real world and in the Plain.

When an AWE is taking place in an urban area, Jesse uses the Urban Response outfit. Like her civilian outfit, it’s also good for when she has to work in an unofficial capacity.

#jesse faden #control #video game #remedy #civilian outfit #janitor's assistant #office assistant #asynchronous suit #director's suit #golden suit #candidate p7 #expedition gear #extradimensional suit #tactical response #astral dive #urban response #lowkey annoyed that tactical response astral dive and urban response were #exclusively for the original release of control #i usually wait for a bit before buying a game #still love it though

[tpwkay]

Medicine (h.s.)

You’re finally given permission to cover the song you’ve wanted to perform for years and a special surprise during your performance sweeps you off of your feet.

Word count: 11.5k

Rating/warnings: NSFW - A lot of this is plot but there is smut as well. Contains explicit language and consensual sex acts between a man and woman. This is a story written in the 2nd person (“self insert"). This isn’t written to be exclusionary, it’s just my preferred style! Author’s note can be found at the end!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for coming out tonight to listen to me and the band. We've got a couple more songs coming up for you but I just wanted to take a minute to tell y'all how much we appreciate you." You gesture to yourself and the band behind you as the lights on stage come up a bit. "We wouldn't be where we are without your support. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you!"

The crowd cheers and you can't help but experience an insurmountable feeling of joy. It never gets old. You'd been in the spotlight for a few years now, already at the end of touring your second album, though the size and scope of venues this time around was much, much larger. There was nothing that compared to being able to sing your own songs and have a crowd of thousands scream them right back at you.

Being an up-and-coming singer and songwriter in the genre of country music hadn't been easy. Girls your type had been a dime a dozen, hoards of Taylor Swift-wannabes covering "Teardrops on My Guitar" during open mic night. You held nothing against them; there was a path to success for everyone, but yours had been, well, different. 

It was a karaoke cover of Brooks & Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie", a song that you'd been singing since you were a toddler, that had gotten you noticed by a recording artist one night while out with your girlfriends, which led you to where you stand now, performing in front of thousands. You were liked for the range of your voice, with it's easy easy transitions from the sounds of pop to country and rock, in addition to the way you performed, and your take-no-shit attitude towards the entirety of the industry. People liked that you were forward and left nothing on the table, though you had to admit that it was mostly an act, a means of coping with the pressure of working your way to the top.

///

"It's refreshing!" Jax, your manager, had shouted one day, arms flailing as you had argued that maybe your attitude was going to get you into trouble one of these days.

"Aren't you, as, you know, my manager, supposed to be the one keeps me in line?"

"You aren't out doing coke, killing anyone, public indecency and all that," he had shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, you are in line. People talk about you because of your attitude. They like it! They like you. Why is that so hard for you to accept sometimes?"

"Maybe I just haven't been caught doing those things," you grinned, effectively dodging his question. Fame hadn't helped break down the walls that you'd long ago built around yourself. If anything, you had done some reinforcing, built a moat even, in an effort to ensure that you protected yourself from getting too close to anyone that would only end up using you in the end. You had seen the way people in life had been used, and what it ultimately led them to, and you had promised yourself long ago that even if it meant being known as the Boot Scootin' Bitch, you would protect yourself and your heart at all costs. 

"Your momma would tan your hide for much less than any of those, you know. Hell, you should be more afraid of her than you are of me or anyone else… 'cept maybe God."

///

You shake your head, working the memories free from your mind as you grab a bottle of water from the platform on which the drum set rests.

There's one more song of yours to sing before you performed a new cover, the one you had been looking forward to for months. Although you'd gotten permission to perform it not long into the start of your tour, the set list had been rehearsed already and every other detail ironed out around it. You'd convinced Jax and the crew to let you slot it into the last concert of the tour, Austin, Texas. These folks knew their music and for some reason, they liked you so you were thrilled to be able to share something new with the crowd that had welcomed you to their city with open arms. 

You grab your guitar off its stand and slide the strap over your shoulders, adjusting it as you step forwards to the mic stand. A shimmering blue shirt catches your eye in the crowd and you do a double take because surely it can't be Harry because he's—

And it's not him, of course, though the fashion of the gentleman in the pit area would surely catch his eye as well as it's right up his alley. It's not him - it can't be him - because you know exactly where he is right now and it's not in the pit of your Austin performance. 

A grin stretches over your face as you think of him. You strum the first chord of the first song you'd ever written about him, although there had been many more since. He probably knew this one was about him, having come just after your first meeting. 

/// 

A friend of yours was good friends with Kacey, who had been the guest artist that night. Her name had been added to the VIP list and in the summer of 2018, just as you were hitting your own stride in your career, you tagged along with her to Harry Styles' live tour performance in your hometown of Nashville. 

If you were being honest, prior to his concert, you hadn't heard much of his solo work, apart from the various huge hits like his Kiwi or Watermelon Sugar and a few other ballads. You liked his sound, seemingly influenced heavily by rock stars of days past, but you'd had other influences to worry about in your own side of the industry. 

Sure, he had country music connections through the likes of Kacey Musgraves and Cam, and legends like Stevie Nicks, but his pop and soft rock style was pretty far removed from most country playlists that you yourself had graced. Your genres just didn't cross paths and the two of you seemingly operated in different realms of the music industry, topping your own charts and breaking your own peer's records. 

Of course, you hadn't been completely oblivious to The Harry Styles. One Direction had been too big of a deal to ignore and you'd often found yourself bopping along to their old hits, singing along as they played amongst the other nostalgic pop hits to which you listened. 

The concert had been in June, a hot sunny day followed by a perfect breezy evening. Downtown Nashville was always busy, but that night the city seemed to buzz, bright with music and life. After meeting for drinks at Acme on the River, you allowed yourself to luxuriate in getting lost in the crowd that milled about on Broadway. It was a surprising thing to not be recognized in your hometown, but you weren't one to complain about it. It was one reason that you value your time in Nashville over other music-centric cities like Los Angeles - it seemed that people here respected the private lives of musicians. There was an odd fan here and there, but you'd lived a majority of your "famous" life in Nashville in relative peace. 

You were early to the venue, your friend having wanted to have a chance to see Kacey backstage. You were excited to finally meet the star - though you'd been around the block of fame a bit already, there would always be people that you never had an opportunity to meet in passing. You had been greeted at will call and had been led backstage.

The arena was alive with excitement. At that point, you yourself had never toured a venue that large, so the experience of being backstage and seeing the operations first hand were thrilling and a bit overwhelming. In her dressing room, Kacey pulled you straight into a hug, gushing about how excited she was to watch your career take off. She insisted on sharing her personal cell phone number with you, urging you to call her to get together on a collaboration. You were in shock leaving her room, blown away by her kindness and the way the music industry worked in the most bizarre of ways, when you turned a corner and ran smack into a tall, solid, smiling Harry Styles. His arms had come out quickly to steady you on your heels boots. 

"Fuck," you swore, shaking your head at your clumsiness. "I am so sorry. What a great way to introduce myself."

He laughed and the sound flowed through you, warm and sweet like a cup of tea with honey. "Y'alright?" His eyes looked you over, and you couldn't help but notice the way they lingered. 

Your cheeks blushed and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm the one that should be asking you that. I don't think your adoring fans would be very happy if I took you out with a textbook tackle right before you're due to go on stage." You took a moment to give him the same appreciative glance he had already given you, admiring the way his deep blue custom-beaded suit jacket fell open to reveal a black dress shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

"Ah, 'm fine. Lil' thing like you couldn't do too much damage to me, even in those heels. Don't think they'd be very happy though," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the already-rowdy crowd while offering his hand. "I'm Harry."

You laughed as you introduced yourself, shaking his hand. 

"I've heard that name before, but I'm sorry to say that I don't recognize you. You don't seem like one that's easy to forget."

"I sing, write music," you shrugged, not sure how to explain to a superstar that you were on the way up, yet still somewhere much farther down the fame totem pole than him. "Country, mostly. Not sure if that's on your radar."

"The new stuff's not, but I may have to change that." He was tapped by one of the event producers, needed for another pre-show procedure. "Where will you be tonight?" 

"To your right, in the pit."

He smiled and you had almost immediately fallen in love with the crinkles that appeared under the corners of his eyes. "I'll look out for you. It was wonderful meeting you. Oh, shit, wait, just remembered— may I?" he gestured for the phone that was in your hand and you unlocked it before passing it to him. 

You watched as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. He paused for a moment before he grinned. "Hi Harry, it's you from before the show. This is a message to remind you to text this number and ask the owner of it out on a date. She's the one with the beautiful smile and great tackling skills. You won"t have forgotten her. 'Kay, bye!"

You laughed at an almost embarrassing volume, blown away by his cheek. 

"Why not ask 'her' out now?" you pondered to him as he handed the phone back.

"What, and risk getting shot down? Wouldn't want to be sad and disappointed through my whole show, now would I?"

"It would make the ballads a bit more emotional," you had reasoned with a grin.

"Ouch! They're already filled with emotion, love. You'll see, I'll sing 'em right to you if I have to. Gotta run, thank you for letting me use your phone, that was a very important message!"

You laughed again as he took off. "Harry!" you had shouted to get his attention in the busy hall. He turned quickly, a small smile on his face. "She definitely won't say no, but you can wait until later to ask if you want to."

His grin stretched wider and he'd pumped a fist in the air before turning and jogging down the hallway. 

You liked to joke with anyone who knew the story that your life had changed that day all because you met Kacey. Which wasn't a complete lie - it had been her dressing room you'd come out of before slamming into Harry in the hallway. 

///

Singing the last lines of one of your songs, your stomach began to flutter in a bit of nervousness and a lot of excitement. Performing the next cover was something you had been looking forward to for months, and the moment that you got to share it with your fans was finally here. 

You retreat from the mic stand to pass your guitar off to a stagehand, taking another sip of water to settle yourself. 

"Doing alright?" Wyatt, your drummer, shouts over the pounding bass drum and you give him a thumbs up before turning back to face the crowd. 

"I've got one more cover to play for y'all tonight," you say, grasping the mic stand to keep your hands from shaking. "I've been working on getting permission to play this one for quite awhile now. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it played and now here I am, performing it for you all. It's an unreleased piece by a very, very good friend of mine, but his performances of it are all over the internet so some of you may know the words. This song is called Medicine."

The song starts out with a steady bass line and the rhythm centers you a bit, steadying any nerves that still linger. The intro gives you a minute to shake out your shoulders and get comfortable at the mic stand once more like Harry does at each performance. You catch yourself having fun mimicking him and feel thankful that you're able to perform one of your favorite songs of his. When the bass drops in pitch and the electric guitar riffs, you slide in close to the mic stand.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine," you sang the opening lines, already settling into the sexy rock sound of the song you and the band had rehearsed relentlessly over the last few weeks. No, the genre wasn't one you normally dabbled in, but part of the fun of performing was taking chances, risks. You had to admit, you liked the sound a lot. It tempted you to branch out a bit more on your upcoming album. 

The opening lines of the first verse throw you back into thoughts of meeting Harry that first night. You hadn't imagined what would follow the concert, let alone have the foresight to see it bringing you to this very moment in time. 

///

You had been standing outside the arena after the concert, ears buzzing and heart thumping still from the incredible show Harry had put on. As soon as he disappeared from the backstage hall earlier, you had immediately saved his number to your phone, still in disbelief over the night's events. 

Your heart had soared when your phone began to vibrate, not in a text message but in a voice call. Harry's name appeared on the screen and your friend had nudged you, clearly approving of the night's turn of events. 

"Harry," you answered, ready to praise him halfway to Sunday on his performance. 

"Let me take you out," he interrupted you. "Right now. Please? Anywhere you want to go." 

You laughed and paused. "Yeah, okay. I might know of a place."

There was a lot of shuffling on his end before his voice came back on the line. "Might've had to do another fist pump."

"Told you she wouldn't say no."

"Where are you?" You heard the smile in his voice, already familiar with it. 

"Demonbreun and John Lewis, headed towards the park."

"Give me 10, I'll pick you up." He paused. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'll stick with the hoards of your fans milling about, maybe ask some of them for the hot gossip on you while I wait."

"Don't believe anything they say," he said, and you could tell he was still smiling as he hung up. 

He and his driver arrived shortly after, Harry's hair damp and covered with a baseball cap, dressed down in black pants and a simple loose white shirt, tattoos peeking out everywhere you looked. He exited the car and opened the back door for you, helping you balance as you stepped up into the large Suburban. 

"We'll go to Pecker's," you said to his driver, laughing as Harry snorted next to you. "Shut up, it's just a bar. Take a right up here onto 24 and it'll take us all the way to Fairfield. It'll be on the right."

He looked at you and smiled before reaching out to hold your hand in the middle seat between you. 

Taking Harry to Pecker's had just felt right. It was where you'd been discovered, where all of your adventures had started, and you weren't sure why but you wanted to share that small part of you with him after watching him up on stage that night. 

"Won't people recognize you? I looked you up before the show, you're apparently a pretty big deal around here." He had asked, smirking, sipping on the locally-brewed beer that Clint, the regular bartender, was serving that night. 

"Locals are pretty good about not interrupting our normal lives. Pecker's isn't as well known to tourists either, so it's a good hideout. This is where a lot of producers, executives and all the other professionals come to unwind." You ignored his comment on your fame and had taken a sip of your margarita instead. "Unless, of course, there's a drag show scheduled, then it's a bit of a madhouse."

Harry laughs into his drink and you grin. "So," he started after a pause, twiddling with the rings on his right hand. "What'd you think?"

"It was incredible," you said without hesitation. "Truly one of the best live shows I've seen in a long time, country acts included. You've got such a magnetism about you that people can't help but want to watch." You blushed a bit, alcohol and the quick comfort of him loosening your lips. "The whole water spraying trick was hot," you admit, making him blush. "And don't tell Stevie, but I think I might prefer your version of The Chain."

"Sacrilege! That's some incredibly high praise," he said, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Earned and deserved," you said, tilting your glass to his. "Honestly, Harry, you're an incredible musician. There aren't many out there that have the whole package like that."

"What about you? You seem like the whole package."

"I don't know if I'd say that. If you looked me up, you've likely seen what they say about me. 'My attitude won't get me far' and all. But I don't think it's my attitude, so much as it is my willingness to take the risks that others won't. I'm not out here to make music that's just there to be sold. Hell, I couldn't care less about the money. All I want is to create music that makes me feel fulfilled, and I think that honesty scares them." You twirled your finger in the condensation of the glass in front of you. You glanced up to his face finding his eyes already on yours, holding your gaze steadily. "It doesn't scare you, does it?"

"It's the most refreshing thing I've heard in a while. Not many people in the industry are fearless in the face of failure like that."

"I'm definitely not fearless; I just refuse to change who I am to make a buck."

"Who are you then?" Harry had asked, and telling him your story was easy. You couldn't understand how it was so natural, opening up to a stranger, but as the conversation wore on, you realized how similar you and Harry were in terms of the way you conducted your professional lives and that was without apology. 

And you also realized, as the evening continued and you and Harry crept your bar stools closer and closer to one another, feet and knees bumping, his fingers tracing the ridges of your knuckles as you shared life stories like long lost friends, that you didn't want it to end. 

///

"He's acting like a gentleman," you continue, changing up the lyrics slightly as you finish the first verse. The line always made you smile and you let yourself briefly flash back into your reminiscing about the night you'd met Harry, and how, even though he had acted gentlemanly upon dropping you off for the evening, you wanted to be anything but a gentlewoman. 

///

After enjoying drinks late into the evening at Pecker's, Harry had insisted on having his driver take you home rather than allowing you to call an Uber. 

"Such a gentleman," you commented as he opened the car door for you once again. 

"Maybe my gentlemanly actions have motives," he said, sliding his hand along your lower back as you step past him and into the car. Your grin matched his smirk as he shut the door and you decided that he'd been right - not calling an Uber was the right thing to do.

The car ride back to your apartment building was too quick and before you knew it, he was at your door again, offering a hand for you to hold for balance as you exited the car. Neither of you let go as you walked through the lobby towards the elevators. 

"You're uh— You're welcome to come up, if you'd like," you said, suddenly shy but not wanting to chicken out on asking for what you wanted, asking for some continuation of this sweet but likely brief meeting between you two. "For a drink, I mean, or to keep chatting, you know."

Harry smiled and glanced around the empty lobby. His hand in yours smoothed up the length of your arm, over your shoulder, and came to rest at your jaw. "I'd love to, believe me. You have no idea how much I want to." He leaned towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and your skin burned at the contact of his lips. "But I want to do this the right way. Don't want you to get the wrong idea of me."

"What if I want the wrong idea of you?"

He laughed, the sound open and honest and it had given you hope. "You called me a gentleman earlier and I have to admit that I liked it, coming from you. Would like to keep up the facade that I am, even if it's just for a bit." His face searched yours, each of you trying to read the thoughts that were flying through one another's minds. "You have beautiful lips," he whispered suddenly, his accent thicker than it had been all night. 

Your mouth quirked into a smile, unable to do anything but preen at his compliment. "You do too," you replied, just as softly. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes." Before the words had settled he was kissing you, slowly and with too much care, like you would break if he wasn't gentle enough. It was over much too quick but you knew you would remember every moment of it for the rest of your life. 

"Christ, I'd wanted to do that all night." His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, smiling when you leaned into the touch. He glanced up as the elevator doors swung open and gently nudged you towards them. "Thank you, truly, for a wonderful evening. I promise to give you a call soon."

"I'll send Kacey after you if you don't!" you laughed, stepping into the lift.

"Good night darling." He winked and the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the delicious ghost of his lips on yours. 

///

"Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline, think I'm gonna stick with you," you finish the first verse as Ryann rips through the chords on her guitar. You loved that the song built slowly, and even though that meant a quieter beginning, it promised an explosive end. 

Though the crowd had been hesitant at first, you can see that the first few rows of them are nodding along, countless phones out recording the performance. You know that somewhere out there at your request is a member of your press team, professionally filming the cover. You may only be doing it once, but you were determined to make sure you would never forget it.

///

You had enough time at home to check some of your social media accounts, shower and get comfortable in bed before your phone rang again. For the second time that day, your heart soared seeing Harry's name light up your screen.

"If you're going to say that you're downstairs because you've reconsidered my offer for that nightcap, I'll need a few moments to prepare as I'm currently in my pajamas," you said as a greeting and you were met with his warm laughter once again.

"No, no, I had to go back to the arena for a bit anyways, pack up and all of that," he said, still chuckling. "I just— I wanted to make sure you weren't offended by me declining your offer. Because I wanted to— I didn't want the night to end there. There's something about you that's… Transfixing. And I don't want to ruin that and make you think you're just a fling."

"That's quite a compliment," you said, a bit awed by his words.

"What was it you said earlier, "earned and deserved", yeah?" He said, quoting your toast to him at the bar, making you grin. "I want you to be more than that. I'd like to get to know you, the gentlemanly way."

"Okay. Will we have a chaperone at our next date then?" He laughed but didn't correct your referral to that evening as a date. You had snuggled a bit deeper into the sheets, still disbelieving that all of this had been the result of being dragged along to a concert. 

"No chaperones," he chuckled, "but yes, I do want to take you out again, if you'd let me."

"Hmm," you jokingly pondered aloud, as if answering with anything other than a resounding "yes" was on your mind. "I suppose I could fit something into my schedule."

"I hope that's a yes."

"Of course it's a yes! I didn't want the night to end either. And don't you dare say that you just did another fist pump," you had laughed, hearing the familiar shuffling of the phone on his end of the line.

"Me? Never!"

"You're adorable," you had said, a smile stuck on your face.

"And you're beautiful. Two can play this game."

There had been a comforting silence between you for a moment before you had spoken up again. "Harry?"

"Yeah, love?"

You had blushed at the pet name but loved the way it sounded being directed your way. "Thank you," you had whispered. 

"Should be me thanking you. Sleep well sweetheart." You'd fallen asleep with your phone in hand, hopeful that you wouldn't wake up the next morning to realize it had all been a dream.

/// 

It hadn't been a dream, and here you were, nearly two years later, performing one of the songs that Harry himself had sung the night that you'd begun falling for him.

The second verse continued quickly and you let the lyrics wash over you as you sang, loving the way the rock energy of the song sounded with a bit of your band's country influence. 

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine, rest it on your fingertips," you sang, holding your pointer finger in the air much like Harry did every time he performed the song before bringing it to your lips as you sang the next line. "Up to your mouth, feeling it out, feeling it out."

/// 

Beginning to date Harry - properly date him too, not just make FaceTime calls to one another from across the world and sending texts back and forth until the wee hours of the morning thanks to the differences in time zones, sharing everything and more with one another as best you could digitally - had been the most exhilarating experience of your life, and you had performed in front of sold out crowds and accepted awards on live television. His tour was due to stretch on for almost another month throughout North America and the next time you saw him was when you'd been invited as Harry's guest to his show in Chicago just a few weeks after you'd met. 

While he had put on an incredible show for the United Center, there had been moments that felt like he was performing just for you, glancing over to where you stood in the Friends and Family area, meeting your eyes and grinning. By that point, you could sing along to every song of his and you knew he loved it, loved watching you dance along to the music that he had created and was performing. 

In a moment where you were thankful for the differences between the genres in which you two performed, you hadn't been recognized at all by his fans. You'd both talked about wanting to keep things quiet as you got to know one another, and you hadn't wanted a relationship with him, an already incredibly famous artist, to somehow influence the trajectory of yours. While it had been easy when you were apart, being together without seemingly being together was difficult. Especially in that moment, when all you wanted to do was curl up into him and soak in the post-show bliss with him. Instead, you sat on the couch with him, a cushion apart from one another, holding his hand tightly while you chatted about the concert. 

"Someone is gonna notice that you looked to my side of the pit constantly all night," you said and he grinned guiltily. 

"I like knowing you're in the crowd," he shrugged. "Besides," he scooted closer and threw his arm around you before dragging you in close, "you look incredible, how could I not want to stare at you all night?"

"Anyone could walk in," you pointed out, watching as his eyes followed your lips. 

"Just want a little taste," he said, moving in closer, "Haven't I earned a kiss from my girlfriend after all of that work up on stage?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you looked at him and he seemingly realized his slip-up. 

"I mean— What I meant was— Shit," he scrubbed a hand over his face but you could tell he was hiding a grin. "Wasn't exactly how I wanted to ask you, but… Will you officially be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, H. I'm all yours."

"Love it when you call me H." He pulled you in for a kiss that you both lost yourselves in, finally able to experience the feeling of one another after being denied it for so long. When a knock at the dressing room door came, Harry had to all but drag himself away from you, hair disheveled and lips swollen, scowling at the door. 

You threw your head back and laughed as he stalked over and pulled it open with a flourish. 

"What?"

"The hell's your issue?" you heard Mitch ask before Harry widened the door so he could see you laughing on the couch. You raised a hand in greeting and Harry's scowl deepened as Mitch chuckled, taking in both of your disheveled appearances. "Oh, shit, hey, sorry. Uh, car's ready when you are. See you tomorrow bud." 

"Harry!" you chided once he'd closed the door in Mitch's face, giggles still bubbling out of your mouth. "He was just being polite."

"Interrupting arse is what he is," Harry said, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Where were we?"

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body as close to his as possible, hoping that he'd thought to lock the door before returning to your embrace. "Right about here, I think." With a hand on your hip, sliding under your shirt to reach warm skin and one at the back of your neck, Harry kissed you until you were breathless and not only wanting more but very seriously needing it. 

"Come back to the hotel with me," he murmured against your lips as you ground your body down on him, reveling in the way the action made him throw his head against the back of the couch and exhale sharply. 

"You sure?" Your hands smoothed over the chest of his skin, tracing the dark swallows with your fingertips as you rolled your hips. 

He shuddered at the light touch and gripped your hips tightly, pressing his up as you pressed yours down and the action made you sigh, the pressure a delicious tease of what was hopefully to come. "Absolutely," he said, his grin telling you he was pleased with the noises he was causing you to make. "Want you so bad, like I won't be able to breathe right until I properly have you."

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, his shower-damp curls tickling your cheek. "The feeling is mutual. Adored watching you up on stage tonight. Have I told you yet how much I love seeing you perform?" You nuzzle at his neck, urging him to tilt his head back farther, exposing more of his skin to you. 

"Yeah, you have, but tell me again," he sighed, his hands running up and down your back. 

"It's like when you get on stage no one else before or after you matters," you said honestly, letting your lips against his skin hide how truthful you were really being, spilling all of your thoughts about seeing Harry up on stage. It was scary, feeling so deeply for him already. But you wanted him to know, at least in part, what it meant to be able to watch him perform. "Something about your live voice just makes my breath catch in my throat, I can't get enough of it."

Harry breathed deeply for a moment, working to center himself while you nosed at the curls around his ear and heaped praise upon him. 

"It's like you connect with every person out in the crowd, like you're singing just for them. You can tell that you're having fun and people want to join you in that. They know you love the attention," you whispered and he hummed in appreciation (or agreement), the sound low in his throat. "They'd stay out there all night for if they could, screaming about how much they love you."

"And you feed into it, playing it up for them. You know exactly what you're doing when you get to act a little bit naughty up there, driving them all mad," you said with a smile. 

He chuckled and you could hear and feel the sound rumble through him. "Played it up for you tonight. Did it work?" 

"You mean did it make me want to jump your bones the second you came off stage? Yeah, it worked."

"Fucking hell," he said, holding you close with his hands on your butt as he stood up. "Our first time is not going to be in a dressing room so we need to go now."

He let you slide down his body and held you steady as you balanced on your legs. "Would be pretty fitting though, don't you think, given how we met and what we do?"

"Yeah, but then I'd think about it every time I was in one. You wanna torture me relentlessly?" He pulled you tight against him, kissing you once more before separating to grab his bags. 

"Yeah, relentless torture sounds like something I might be into." 

He glanced up at your words, eyes dark and hungry, a smirk on his lips. "Careful what you wish for, love." 

///

The bass line increased behind the riff of Ryann's guitar and you leaned into the mic stand, eyes closing as you continued singing the first bridge. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted, and when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

There were a few fans of yours and Harry's who apparently knew the words as they helped you out, screaming the unwritten word that finished the sentence: "tasted."

///

Harry was quick to say goodbye to everyone on the team before pulling you quickly through back hallways and down quiet staircases, sneaking quick kisses when he was sure there was no one around. You were both out of breath when you finally climbed into the car, grinning like kids getting away with sneaking around. 

The hotel ride was quick, mercifully, but Harry had been anything but patient, his hand at your knee creeping up slowly, closer and closer to the hem of your dress, toying with the hem while he chatted with the driver. 

"I'm gonna head in first with Martin and Eric will loop around and drop you off at the side entrance. I would wait in the lobby for you but this hotel hasn't been the best in the past with uh— containing sensitive information, we'll say, so Martin will meet you on your floor to get your stuff, then bring you up. Is that okay?"

"You sound like you've done this before, Styles," you said with a wink, using humor to cover the nerves that had settled in the pit of your stomach. 

He blushed and you loved knowing you got under his skin so easily. "The band used to stay here when we toured… and I was young and dumb once, yes."

"Just giving you a hard time, H."

His grin stretched as he leaned over to peck your lips once more. "See you in a minute, love."

Harry climbed out and the driver took off once again, slowly circling the block. "He's quite taken with you, you know," he said, glancing up in the rear view mirror as he parked the car at the curb. He got out and opened the door for you in the empty street then used his keycard to unlock the heavy side door of the hotel.

"Thank you," you said, both for his actions and his omission about Harry. Sure, you had talked to him as often as possible over the last weeks and had yourself been on the receiving end of his attention, but it felt validating to hear that Harry's feelings for you may have gone a bit farther than just a small crush if people around him had also noticed his behavior. 

Harry's bodyguard was waiting by the elevators and escorted you to your room to gather your luggage, then led you to Harry's door.

"Car'll be around about 9 tomorrow morning, H. Flight's at 10:30." He turned to you. "I understand you have business to continue here in Chicago?"

"Yes, meetings tomorrow and then I fly back to Nashville in the evening."

"There'll be a driver ready for you tomorrow as well. He's been instructed to take you wherever you need to go and he'll stay until you depart. Have a nice evening," he nodded at Harry, who was smiling in the doorway, before departing.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I could've managed by getting an Uber," you said, stepping into the room past Harry to set your bags down and kick your shoes off. 

"I didn't, was Martin's idea; says he doesn't want anything to happen to the one thing that's made me so happy these last few weeks."

"Oh yeah? I'm the one thing, huh?"

"You're everything, honestly," he replied a bit sheepishly, taking your hands in his. "Think I might like you a bit more than I already should. Lettin' my heart get a bit ahead of my head, I suppose."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," you said softly and he beamed. 

He moved his hands up to cup your face, pulling you close for a sweet kiss that quickly turned insistent, heat rising between the two of you. Harry slid his hands under the hem of your shirt to rest where your spin ended and yours wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to you as you stepped behind you towards the bed. His long legs tangled with yours and you tumbled backwards, laughing as you hit the plush bed and Harry collapsed on top of you.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at you with a smile, pushing the hair that had fallen into your face aside. "Hi baby," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Missed you," he said, leaning down for another sweet kiss. 

"We were apart for like, eight minutes," you giggled between his kisses, your laughter giving way to a sigh as he moved to press a kiss to your nose, your cheek, your chin.

"Doesn't matter," he breathed into the crook of your neck, pressing small open mouth kisses to the soft skin there, "Any time apart is too long."

"The two weeks left of the tour will fly by. You should enjoy them while you can."  

"Wish you could come with me, love performing for you." He kissed his way across the base of your neck, collarbone to collarbone as his fingers trailed to the small straps on your shoulders. "Would you like to take this off?"

"Please," you sighed, desperate and aching for the feeling of his skin against yours. 

Your first time sleeping with Harry had been exactly what you'd wanted and expected - hot and fast, admittedly over a bit more quickly than either of you had wanted, but worth the weeks of wait. 

Harry's skill set hadn't ended at singing and playing instruments. If anything, his vast experience using his hands and mouth only helped him excel in other pastimes that also utilized those parts of his body. To both of your delights, he had proven his adeptness in all areas multiple times that night, and once again in the morning before he had to rush into the shower, dragging you along with him simply to get more time together before you were forced apart once again. 

/// 

You had spent the next two months away from one another, Harry having wrapped his tour and immediately beginning work on his next album. You'd spent your own time mixed between writing and recording an upcoming single. You had already written a handful of songs that were inspired by him and you'd wondered, albeit a bit nervously, if the sentiment was shared. When he stopped in Nashville on a long layover, pushing his flight back even longer to stay with you for another night, you'd tried to pry the information out of him. Unfortunately, no amount of sexual teasing or denial had convinced him — he, however, had you singing like a canary almost immediately, teasing you in the best way about how easily you opened up for him, telling him all about the music that he had already inspired.

You had been FaceTiming him late one night weeks later, both tired from long days spent in the studio. He had suddenly gotten shy, biting at the skin around his fingernails. 

"Hey, stop that. What's the matter H?"

"Wanna ask you something," he mumbled, but a smile was peeking through where his fingers were still at his lips. "Jus' don't know how to."

"Baby," you sighed, "you can ask me anything. Y'know that." 

"I know, I know." He paused and took a deep breath before a wide smile stretched across his face. "Would you maybe want to come home with me this Christmas? To London? Wouldn't be for long, maybe just a couple nights, I just wanna introduce you to my mum already, she's been pestering me nonstop lately 'bout meetin' you and Gem's joined in on it now too, so it's two against one when they call and I've told them that—"

"Harry," you said chucking, trying to interrupt his nervous rambling.

"—and she actually called me Harold last time she told me to bring you 'round and that got me a bit worried so I—"

"Harry! Of course I'll come with you. I'd absolutely love to."

You met him at the airport weeks later, desperate to pull him close and kiss him silly in the confines of his darkly tinted car, but you refrained, knowing how seriously Harry took the protection of your relationship from the press. You may not have been able to see anyone straining to capture pictures of you two, but you knew there was always the chance. 

It was an entirely different story, however, when he'd finally pulled the car past the mechanical gate and into his private drive. You both reached for each other immediately, arms tangled and shifter knob pressed uncomfortably against your side, but perfectly content so long as his lips were against yours. 

"Fuck— I missed you— so much," he muttered between kisses. He pulled away, forehead resting against yours, sly smirk pulling at his lips. "Mum won't expect us for a few hours at least."

"What is it that you're insinuating, Mr. Styles?"

"That there's plenty of time to give you a tour around the house, that's all," he said innocently. He gave you a sweet smile before hopping out of the car and coming to the passenger side where he helped you out and picked up your bags.

You were eager to be given a house tour, more than keen to learn all of the things you could about his London life. The house was decorated in a way that made you smile - eclectic but with a definitive air of cohesive taste. It suited Harry to an absolute tee. From the artwork that decorated the walls to the mismatched but homey furniture, you could tell immediately that this was Harry's sanctuary - every inch of the home screamed his name. 

"It's incredible," you said as he led you into the largest room, the master. He walked over to the dresser that sat under the window and pulled open the top two drawers. 

"I know we won't be here long, this time around, but I cleaned out a few drawers for you here, if you want to unpack some things. And there's space in the closet for you too," he nodded towards the door on the other side of the room, dragging a hand through his hair as he talked, "I had too much in there anyways and some of it needed to go and I wanted you to be able to leave some things, if you felt comfortable, of if Mum drags us out shopping and you don't want to take it all home now you can leave it here and-"

"You- you cleared out a drawer for me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Made some space for you in the bathroom too, though I doubt it'll be enough, with all that you bring along to fix yourself up." He paused and thought for a moment. "I know how our lives are. I just wanted you to have some of your own space here; want you to feel as comfortable in my home as I do. Is that too much?" 

"H," you said with a sigh, your lips curling into a smile, "it's perfect, and so thoughtful. I'm sorry I haven't done the same for you in Nashville yet."

"'s alright, love. I've already got a toothbrush there at least. I can take some time when we fly back to come and help if you'd like me to. As long as you don't end up wearing all the clothes that I leave there," he chuckled.

"You know me too well," you said, reaching for his hand. He lifted your entwined fingers to his lips to brush a kiss over your knuckles.

"You do look good in my clothes," he confessed, pulling you close to face him. "Look good in my house. But you always look good anyways."

"Said the pot to the kettle," you said with a smile. "I like being here already," you shrug, hands resting on his shoulders. "It feels like you, like home. Thank you for inviting me," you add, as though the measly voicing of your appreciation is enough to convey what you truly feel. 

"You're welcome anytime, if I'm here or not."

"You trust me that much?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll get you a key and everything." He leaned down to kiss you slowly, relearning the map of your lips and mouth, before pulling away. He laughed when you made a noise of protest.

"The bathroom's over here if you'd like to freshen up." He had pulled at your hand, stepping towards the other open door in the room. "Figured a shower might sound nice after a long day in an airplane. Besides, I've gotta clean up before we go to Mum's anyways."

"Gonna join me?" 

"Yeah, thought I might, if that's okay." His smirk had been wicked as he pushed you the rest of the way into the bathroom. He dropped your hand to reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. As he reached for the buckle of his pants, he had met your staring eyes. "See something you like, love?"

You definitely had, though you didn't think your attraction — physically or emotionally — for Harry had stopped at something that was as weak as "like." Getting to know him over the last six months had made you worry that there wasn't ever going to be anyone else like him, anyone that made you feel like he did. You had fallen for him, desperately hard, and the realization of it as you stood in front of his half-naked self almost embarrassed you. 

"Babe? You alright?" he asked as he stripped down to his boxers. 

"Yeah, you just got me all distracted," you had grinned, pulling your sweatshirt and remaining clothes off quickly before joining Harry under the warm spray of the water.

Meeting Harry's mom that evening went better than you could've ever dreamt it would. The two of you got on like old friends, and Harry had stared, almost in wonder, at how easily you seemed to bond with her. And then he had stared in horror as Anne offered to pull out the photo albums filled with pictures from Harry's childhood, particularly when Anne offered up the album filled with photos from Harry's and Gemma's emo phases. 

As the evening wore on, you caught Harry on more than one occasion glancing your way, cheeks bright from the red wine he was sipping on and eyes warmly reflecting the bright Christmas lights. He always looked like he was a split second away from saying something, only to shake his head and look away with a small smile. 

Later, in bed, Harry pulled you close to him. He was laying on his back, you on your side, and you threw a leg over his waist, soaking in all of the cuddles you could get on this short trip together. The room was only illuminated by the ambient light coming in through the blinds. 

"Mum liked you a lot," he murmured, gently stroking the skin at the base of your spine, "said I should hang onto you". 

You returned the gesture, running your fingertips along the lines of ink that make up his many tattoos. "I liked her too. She's wonderful, I see where you get it from now."

"Hey now, 'm wonderful all on my own!" He tickled your side and you couldn"t help but arch towards him, shrieking and laughing at the touch. 

"Stop that! You are an absolute pest, you know that?" you said, grinning up at him.

"Ah, you love me," he whispered, and his joking tone made you smile but the way he pulled you tighter as he said it made you brave. 

You let the weight what you were about to say wash over you, aware that things were going to change forever with just a few words. "I do love you, Harry," you whispered, moving up his body to press a kiss to his lips.

"Thank God," he had said, wrapping his arms back around you and pulling you on top of him. "Cause I love you too."

Leaving Harry after that had been even more difficult. All you wanted to do was be with him, but you had too much coming up with the future release of your album and Harry was still in the midst of doing his own writing and recording. 

It was your professions, along with the desire to keep your relationship private, that kept you apart. You weren't sure how you did it, but your relationship had withstood the distance and odd-hours. The only step now would be deciding if, when, and how to confirm the suspicions to tabloids and fans alike that you were an item.

The wait was killing you. All you wanted was to show off to the world that Harry was yours.

///

The bridge of the song was followed quickly by the chorus and the heavy guitar and pounding drums had you rocking on your feet, body swaying into the mic stand as you let yourself get lost in the lyrics. "If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive."

The crowd was even more into the song now, many picking up on the words quickly and screaming them along with your singing. The rock and roll vibe of the song was coursing through you and the crowd, the arena electric with energy already. 

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

You remove the mic from the stand and dance towards one end of the stage, singing as you move to the beat. "We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

///

You had been on the phone with Harry one day in July, nearly five months after the release of your album, having him help you decide what the setlist of your tour would be when it began in November. 

"I wish I could cover one of your songs."

He had laughed and slurped his tea, the sounds comforting to you, even over the phone. "That'd be a bit obvious, wouldn't it love?"

"I don't mean cover Golden or Kiwi," you said, tapping your pen against the pad of paper in front of you. "What about one you wrote for 1D? What about Perfect? Or Stockholm Syndrome! That was always one of my favorites."

"Getting permission on those might be a bit more difficult, s'not just me that's gotta sign off on it. Besides, do you really wanna be the artist that covers a One Direction song on her own headlining tour?"

"Guess I'll stick with singing along to them in the shower then."

You were both quiet for a moment, lost in your own thoughts. 

"What if I covered Medicine?" you asked suddenly, realizing it was the perfect compromise, not to mention your favorite song that Harry himself performed oh his own tour. The rock sound wasn't a far cry from the roots that country music had and you knew it would sound great. "Even if it was just for one stop!"

"Hmm," Harry mused. "It would sound great with the band, I'll give you that. But videos will go around, people will know it's my song you're singing and they'll connect the dots about us."

"H, I'm ready for that if you are. I love you, and I'm ready to be able to share that love that I have for you with the world. Sneaking around has been fun but I want people to know how proud of you I am and how much you're loved and appreciated. Half of our fans know already, it's just a matter of us confirming it. I think that we could really-"

Harry was laughing at your rambling on the other end of the line. "Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain, love. I think you're right, maybe it is time we stopped sneaking around. I'll try, but Jax and everyone else still have to agree to it too. It might be easier to convince everyone if it's just a one time thing. Pick another cover, something you'd normally do, in case it takes some time to work things out."

"I'll ask him right now! Thank you Harry!"

"I just have one condition," he said, and you could hear the grin that was surely pulling at the corners of his lips. 

"What's that?"

"I get to perform it with you," he had said, and the smile already on your face widened exponentially. "If we're finally gonna make "us" public, may as well do it with a bang."

///

In the moment after the chorus, an 8 count beat is carried by the drummer and guitarist. For this performance, and the only performance you'd put on of this song, you had rehearsed the 8 count repeating once between the chorus and the next verse, as you needed a bit of extra time to announce your guest performer. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," you shout into the mic, grin wide and face beaming already at what was about to take place. "To help me finish this performance, please help me welcome my very good friend, Harry Styles!"

Harry emerges from behind the stage holding his own wireless mic as much of the crowd screams - he may not be a country artist, but he was absolutely known worldwide. You step back with a wave of your arm, smiling as he begins the next chorus. His performance is for the crowd but he's singing the words directly to you. 

"Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes, tingle running through my bones," he sings, voice smooth like whiskey, and the crowd adores him, eating out of the palm of his hand. "The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with them, and I'm OK with it." 

You can't help but dance as he sings, his voice and the energy of the crowd propelling you to move. He watches you, eyes no longer on the crowd, as he sings the next lines. Immediately, heat pools low in your belly at his glance and the words. 

"I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it. And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

You gyrate your hips at the unsung line of "ride it", listening with a sly grin as some in the crowd scream the two words that go unsung. 

///

After giving him a key, Harry had moved some of his clothes to your apartment in Nashville some time while you were away on the first leg of your tour. He had found the city to be incredibly welcoming and inspirational for his upcoming album and had decided to stay there for a spell while you continued to tour around the country. 

You had scheduled a short break between your concerts over New Years, wanting to be able to grab at least one or two nights at home with him to celebrate the holiday before you were back on the road again. 

"So fucking glad you're home," Harry panted, pulling your shirt over your head before attaching his lips to yours once again. "Missed you like crazy."

"Missed you too," you moaned as his lips moved downwards, across your neck and over your collarbones, down the valley between your breasts. Before he could reach around to unhook your bra, you reached for his shirt, as desperate as he was to see and touch what you'd been missing. 

As he pulled the half-unbuttoned blouse over his head, you pulled your leggings off and reached for him, pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He unbuttoned his pants as he scooted up towards the middle of the bed, shoving them and his boxers off in one swoop. 

You climbed on top of him, hurriedly reaching to kiss him as you rubbed your clothed center along the length of his hard cock. 

"Fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back to allow you room to kiss his neck. "Desperate aren't you, darling?"

"Want you so bad it hurts," you whispered, sucking a bright hickey right where it would absolutely be seen by anyone.

You moved to continue kissing down his chest but he stopped you with a hand under your arm. "Not gonna last long, love. Wanna be inside you."

His cheeks and chest were flushed bright red, lips puffy and pupils blown wide. This was when you loved him most, being able to have him like no one else did. The same feeling always hit you at certain moments, particularly ones of domesticity, like when you watched him back the car out of the driveway or when he stood in the kitchen in the morning in nothing but socks, boxers, and his ratty old robe, singing along to old big band jazz as he waited for the coffee to brew. There was Harry Styles the musician, Harry Styles the actor, and Harry Styles the performer, but then there was your Harry. 

"Yeah, okay," you sighed, moving off of him quickly to remove your bra and panties. You climbed back onto the bed and threw your leg over his hips, straddling him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you flush against his chest, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. 

You rocked your hips against him as he held you, your slick arousal gliding along his length, drawing a moan from both of you. 

"Baby, please," he panted, and you could only mod in agreement, lost already to the sweeping feeling of your close release. 

His hands rested on your hips as you positioned him at the entrance between your legs. You groaned in harmony as you worked down him slowly, the only sound in the room was your shared heavy breathing and gasps. 

"Fuck me," he sighed as you set a slow pace, rocking on top of him to reach each spot that you know will get you there. 

"Workin' on it," you grin. A quick swivel of your hips hit at just the right angle and you tossed your head back, repeating the movement over and over again until you shuddered with a final snap of tension, your orgasm rolling over you as Harry helped you move, hands tight on your hips, to wring all you could from the release. 

"You look so beautiful right now, like a fuckin' angel," Harry said, voice low and gravely, accent thick with need. 

"How's that line go?" you said as you slowed down, smirking when a harsh rock of your hips caused Harry to moan. "'Turns out she's a devil in between the sheets'?"

"Fuck," he groaned again, eyes closed tightly. "Can't just go reciting my own lyrics to me while I"m buried in ya like this, love."

"And there's nothing you can do about it," you continued, singing the line of his song this time, and his hips buck up into yours harshly.

"You're gonna pay for that," he had said, quoting another of his songs, before he had flipped you over onto your back and set his own brutal pace.

///

Like he can read your thoughts, Harry beams and wags a finger in your direction and the crowd screams at your chemistry together. You grab your mic from its stand and take a step towards Harry to sing the chorus together.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive." Harry dances off to the side of the stage, performing once again for the crowd. 

You dance at center stage with your wireless mic, too excited about performing with Harry that you can't stand in one spot. The music and Harry's energy make you want to move. "You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it." 

"We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da!" Harry throws his head back, singing along in his own world and you can't look away from him. He really was a rockstar and getting to share the stage with him like this was an experience you'd never forget. 

"You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

There's a great pause in the lyrics where the guitar, keyboard, and drums play together, increasing the tension of the song. You and Harry take off towards opposite ends of the stage, both reveling in the performance for the crowd as you dance and stomp to the beat. Eventually, with a slide down the keys of the keyboard, the instrumental quiets into just the steady beat of the bass line joined by the hi-hats. 

You and Harry urge the crowd to clap along as you both return to the middle of the stage to sing together once again. He always said that this portion of the song was one of his favorites to perform, the repeated line from the bridge ending abruptly with the lights going out before flashing back on, the added theatrics of the performance elevating the climax of the song completely. Having rehearsed that Harry would sing the following chorus alone, you let yourself get lost in his gaze as it settles on you.

You stand facing one another behind the mic stand, once again singing more to one another rather than to the crowd. You step closer towards him as the lyrics progress, nearly chest to chest now with your voices sharing one another's mics. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm—"

Before you can sing the last word of the line and the lights can blink out as rehearsed, Harry leans forwards and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. The crowd erupts with screams as the lights above the stage go dark.

You can feel rather than hear him say the words "I love you" against your lips and you have just enough time to repeat them back to him before the drums and guitar pick the beat up once again, the lights flashing back on brightly. He moves away and continues to sing the chorus that follows as if nothing had happened. You're a bit stunned, not having prepared for his relationship-revealing public display of affection to happen during your performance of his song but it was perfect and he knows it. Your smile is wide and you can't help but stand rooted where you are and laugh at what has just finally happened.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive," he sings, smirking at you while you blush across from him. 

You join him in singing the last lines, your right hand joining his left hand where everyone can see your fingers entwine. 

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it. We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh!"

You urge the crowd with a waving hand to join in and they do, singing along with you and Harry. "La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

The drums and guitar end the song on five quick beats and the crowd erupts once again in screams. You immediately jump towards Harry, throwing your arms around his neck in a close embrace. His hands wrap around your waist to hold you close, and you can feel him smile where his face is pressed close to your jaw.

"How was that?" he asks, chuckling against you.

"It was perfect, you're perfect. Thank you, H. For everything."

"Can take you on a proper date now, yeah? Wanna show my girl off to the world."

"Yes, please!" You can't wipe the smile from your face as he sets you down and Harry continues to beam at you as the crowd continues screaming, reeling from your shared performance. 

Harry nudges you gently before turning back to them, lifting his and your arms high in the air and leading you in bending for a bow. He steps away from you and turns, opening his arms wide to you for the crowd to praise and you laugh, tearing up at his gesture and the overwhelming emotions of the performance while you take another bow just for yourself. 

He pulls you into another hug and you can't help but angle your face up towards him, wordlessly asking for another very quick, very public kiss.

He glances down at you, smiling. "You're gonna love this now, aren't you?"

"Course I am. love showing them you're mine."

He leans down to peck your forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, as the crowd goes wild. "Love showing them you're mine. You've got a show to finish, love. Go kill it."

///

Ahh! So much fun! This has been such a joy to write and I appreciate you taking the time to give it a chance! It’s my first (of hopefully many) Harry fics - reading all of the stories here has been immensely inspiring, and I’m so looking forward to writing more!

Tagging my love @morganlatte​ who is a wonderful hype woman and beta reader. Thanks buddy!

Anyways! Thank you for reading! My love language is words of affirmation (aka I have a praise kink) so leave me a comment here if you feel so inclined!

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction fanfiction #harry styles x you #reader insert fic #my writing #wow! #that was so much fun #i'm so in love with it

[truesportsfan]

How ABC gofer turned summer job into ‘Miracle on Ice’ nirvana

Friday, Feb. 22, 1980. More than 8,000 manic fans pack into the Olympic Center Arena in Lake Placid, N.Y., including Vice President Walter Mondale and first child Amy Carter. I remember they were seated across the ice on the opposite side of the arena from our broadcast booth, and distinctly recall the two Secret Service agents standing right behind Al Michaels, Ken Dryden — and me. They were conspicuous in dark suits and shades, sporting earpieces as they monitored movements. I’ll never forget offering one of them a bottle of water and being met with a cold, hard shake of the head. They were all business.

It was 5 p.m. ET when the first puck dropped. ABC Sports was not live on the air — in fact, an attempt to move the game to 8 p.m. so it could be broadcast live in the U.S. was turned down by the International Hockey Federation. That would have been 4 a.m. in the Soviet Union, and the Soviets protested this injustice — and won. But no one inside the arena cared who else was watching live. They were in the house and it was game on.

Spring, 1979. I graduated from Brown University on a rather unseasonably cool Providence, R.I., spring day. After packing up a once-cluttered dorm room, I head up Route 95 to Boston to begin my summer job as a gofer/production assistant for ABC Sports’ “Monday Night Baseball.”

I had gotten an in with the jewel sports network during my senior year, when Brown’s sports information director, Rosa Gatti (who retired as a senior vice president at ESPN in 2013), asked me to take good care of Keith Jackson, the legendary announcer who, oddly enough, was calling the Brown-Harvard football game for ABC. I guess I did a good enough job to warrant an attaboy from not only Rumblin’, Fumblin’ Keith, but more importantly, from the assistant producer, who told me to keep in touch.

Keep in touch I did, as I was determined to avoid going to law school and instead began to seriously consider a career in sports television production. And so began a fantasy year that brought repeated close encounters with iconic figures and moments in sports.

The ABC broadcast team for hockey during the 1980 OlympicsRob Krausz

For example, in the fall of 1979, at a “Monday Night Football” game in Washington, as a booth assistant I was assigned to find the legendary Howard Cosell with three minutes to air. I finally located him in a lounge entertaining two women over drinks and was greeted by his yelling, “Don’t rush the star of the show!” Ninety seconds later, he put on his headset and delivered a perfect opening segment without a script.

ABC kept me busy most weekends, as I traveled by car (gas and tolls on me) up and down the East Coast to work on pro and college football games, golf tournaments and boxing matches. I chauffeured the infamous Cosell many times, saw Jack Nicklaus win the 16th and 17th of his record 18 major championships, and had up-close moments with Reggie Jackson and George Steinbrenner. And they paid me — a per diem of $35.

But the highlight of it all began in December 1979, when I managed to get hired to work as a research/production assistant/gofer/food and beverage porter for the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid.

At the first production meeting for us bottom-feeders, everyone clamored for glamorous jobs working on speed skating, ski jumping, downhill skiing and figure skating. When ice hockey came up, no one volunteered because, obviously, the U.S. team was terrible, the Soviet Union was despised and heavily favored, and who in their right mind wanted to waste time inside the hockey rink watching the Russian gold-medal coronation?

Someone, however, noticed on my résumé that I had gone to Brown and asked if I knew anything about ice hockey. Stupidly, I mentioned I actually had been to a few college games and had even seen U.S. goalie Jim Craig play for Boston University in the Beanpot tournament the prior winter at Boston Garden. My groan was audible when they assigned me to work as the assistant to recently retired NHL All-Star goalie Ken Dryden (I had actually heard of him), and some baseball announcer on the West Coast (I had never heard of) named Al Michaels.

We start work in Lake Placid about a month before the games began. I accompanied Al and Ken for a few nights shuttling around in an arctic-cold ABC minivan watching the U.S. team play a few exhibition matches. I even spent a few afternoons playing pinball at the Olympic Village dorms with Craig and Mike Eruzione and got the feeling they were thrilled to be there (though not so much with their coach, Herb Brooks), and were just going to do the best they could and hopefully not be embarrassed.

When the first-round games began Feb. 12, the crowds were fairly sparse. As I sat next to Al (always on his right) for all the televised games, I tried to come up with meaningful stats or inside storylines, but frankly, initially there wasn’t much to say.

However, as the U.S. kept progressing deeper into the tournament, there was this weird, cautiously optimistic vibe in the air. These bad news pucksters just kept winning. And winning. An initial tie with Sweden was followed by consecutive wins over Czechoslovakia, Romania and West Germany.

By the time the baby-faced U.S. team made the final four in the medal round (along with the U.S.S.R., Finland and Sweden) and was about to face the chiseled, grizzled Soviets, there was a palpable buzz in the air of: Hey, this is somehow happening! Everyone working at the Olympics felt it. Fans in the arena felt it, and the hardest and hottest Olympic ticket to get was U.S. versus the U.S.S.R., scheduled for Feb. 22. Of course, my seat next to Al and Ken was reserved from Day 1, and little did I know it would become perhaps the most prized seat in sports history.

I have very little recollection of the match itself as it just whizzed by in one of life’s “in the zone” moments, when three hours seem like three minutes. The Russians scored first. The U.S. tied it up. Then the Russians went up 2-1, and as initial hope seemed lost, somehow Team USA’s Mark Johnson scored to tie the game with one second left in the first period. The atmosphere was giddy and most of us were clearly surprised that this U.S. team — drubbed 10-3 weeks earlier by this same Soviet team at Madison Square Garden in an exhibition — was still alive in the game. But then the Soviet Union scored early in the second period to make it 3-2, and a sense of deflation could be felt as the period ended.

Well, it had been a good ride and we braced ourselves for the knockout punch that was coming. Somehow, that punch never came. Eight minutes and 39 seconds into the third period, Johnson struck again to tie the game at 3, and 81 seconds later, Eruzione — the captain and my pinball buddy — launched a shot into the net that was heard ’round the world.

The atmosphere for the final 10 minutes of the game was almost indescribable. Craig made 36 saves in the game, and it seemed as if all 36 came in those final minutes. The Soviets, reeling yet attacking wildly, could not get another one past him. Ken and Al were going nuts — as was the crowd. As everyone counted down the last 10 seconds, it seemed as if in slow motion, in my left ear one foot away, that Al uttered those famous words: “Do you believe in miracles? YES!”

Pandemonium.

I got kicked out of the locker room (and thrown against the wall) by Secret Service agents after I tried to help Jim Lampley find players for postgame interviews. My press credential, which had served me so well, was now worthless. The vice president was in the locker room and I was back to being the low man on the totem pole — but wow, it had been a great ride.

Rob KrauszN.Y. Post: Tamara Beckwith

Jim McKay went on the air that night and said he would not announce any hockey results as the network was tape-delaying the broadcast of the game. Like no one knew.

The gold-medal clinching game came two days later on Feb. 24. Yawn. A 4-2 victory over the Finns. I have an old Kodak picture of the team storming the ice at the last horn. Most people don’t even realize the U.S. did not clinch the gold medal versus the Soviets in that earlier, historic game. No one cares. The fight of the century had been fought and the final was relegated to the undercard.

A year later, on Feb. 22, 1981, I found myself in Durham, N.C., yawning over a Contracts textbook in the Duke University Law School library. I had followed Howard Cosell’s advice to get out of “this lousy business” (i.e. sports television) and go to law school. Bye-bye, sports producer career. After all, could anything ever top my year on the road that included that 1980 Olympic hockey experience?

After packing my books and while heading back to the dorm, I checked out Duke’s upcoming basketball schedule. There was this new coach, some guy named Mike with a long Polish name nobody could spell. “Coach K” was going through a losing streak and there were rumors he would be fired. Ha!

As I made my way across the main campus, there were a group of students on the lawn playing field hockey with a tennis ball. One took a wild shot and sent the ball soaring past a makeshift goal. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “Do you believe in miracles?” as the ball zoomed by, almost hitting me. I yelled right back, “Yes!” Then, as I was about to tell them where I’d been a year earlier, I stopped. Who would believe it? I smiled, moving silently into the night.

source https://truesportsfan.com/sport-today/how-abc-gofer-turned-summer-job-into-miracle-on-ice-nirvana/

[chaneljoyce]

Unit 2 Essay- Leveled

A mass of black and gold storms the turf. ‘Back in Black’ courses through the veins of every being within Kinnick Stadium. Fans are losing their voices screaming at the team. It’s game day. For the seniors, they try to cling to the field, close their eyes to let the humming of the fanfare enter their bones. The sophomores and juniors try and keep their cool; they’re on a Big 10 football team. This is the dream. Even as a bench player, anyone knows how to spot one of them on campus. They all have the signature black backpack with a tigerhawk on the back. The sport is printed under the tigerhawk: Football. Each individual player’s number is printed under. To top it off, a tag with their name, sport, and number hangs from the bottom. Athletes are easily spotted; the university wants to make them perfectly visible and have the entire campus recognize them as such.

The football players’ numbers are easily recognizable, and the first string players are akin to celebrity status. Their faces flash on the screen before kickoff, on calendars, and in every single promotional advertisement of Iowa. They are synonymous with Herky and the Old Capitol; they are the face of Iowa. While fellow students clamor to get the classes they need to graduate, the athletes are welcomed with a barren playground where there are no worries. Classes are empty just waiting for them to get their pick of the litter.

They came to Iowa for the sport they played, but also for the education they are blessed to save on. Scholarships stack on top of each other, and a burden left on the rest is lifted. Only what other students dream of and apply for for hours on end, they earn through their skills.

Trombone in hand. Flute. Drums. They are the backbone of the game. They make it. They know all the chants, how to act during a field goal when the Hawks are giving, and when the opposition is. If the team does well, the band travels with them. They are the marching band, largely overrated, but greatly appreciated by those who understand. They make halftime. They are the crusaders of the student section. Without them, the student section is misguided, messy, and devolve into anarchy. The band orchestrates them all. Every chant. Every cheer. Every boo. They wait for their okay, a cue to start. They’re the puppet masters, and everyone follows suit.

The student section. Bibs. Black and gold. Pride is the only emotion they feel. They are a student at the University of Iowa, and get to call the great IC home. They make a blow out feel like a championship, and a high scoring game like the Super Bowl. Instagram becomes plastered with posts about football season being their favorite, and how they tailgate harder than you party. High school seems eons ago, because that was nothing compared to the present. There was no ‘Crazy Town’ sing along at third down. ‘Back in Black’. Hype video before fourth quarter.

Lime green socks adon several students’ shoes. They’re involved in Dance Marathon, the biggest student organization on campus. This season, a new tradition began. After first quarter, the stadium turns to the hospital quite literally across the street from the stadium’s main entrance and wave to the kiddos on the top floor. The dancers were ecstatic to hear of this tradition, and ready to spread their love of Dance Marathon throughout the stadium.

Security keep their post around the stands and on the field attempting to curb the crowd. Everyone’s safety is in their hands; they reinforce the rules everyone attempts to dodge. They are paid to enforce informal laws, but are key in upkeeping Kinnick’s reputation and fans safe. They receive compensation not only for checking bags and keeping fans off the field, but get to watch the game like any other Hawkeye fan. The fans are safe, and they hold a form of valor if only for the duration of the game.

The coveted press box. The pristine bird’s eye view of the game, the way to watch a game so many people envy. Alec Giannakopolous joined KRUI as a freshman, and worked his way up to calling football games, his first being the home opener of the undefeated season. Before calling North Texas, the second game of the season, he sat at home watching the wave in awe. He recalls, “I didn’t think it would be as big a deal as it was, though. I didn’t think everyone would do it. You hear someone say something, ‘hey we’re gonna do this’, then the game happens and you don’t. To imagine the whole stadium do that at one time, it’s kind of incredible.” In his call of the game, he gave the backstory of Dance Marathon and let the sound of the stadium carry the broadcast. In his final year, he got to see a beautiful tradition, and he was on the radio to witness it.

He describes his view as the “second best view of it”. To watch from a bird’s eye view overseeing the fanfare is incredible, and an out of world experience for any average Joe. The wave is all in one direction, and there is the view on the top floor. The kids stand at the windows, waving down at thousands of Hawkeye fans, unbeknownst to them, they have their full support. The kids also wear black and gold just as if they were down below, and wave at every single person waving up at them. Their parents carry them so they can see better or hold their hand narrating what’s going on. Not only does Dance Marathon’s support for them overflow throughout the year, the whole community unifies as one after first quarter.

Iowa loves those kids. FTK is splattered across campus, backpacks, water bottles, T-shirts, and anything in between. They dance for twenty-hours, but can and fundraise all summer and school year long just to see a cure. Each family is rolled into one, and rolled into each family of every dancer. The hospital is one of the best in state, and specializes in pediatric oncology at that. The fanfare has finally found a purpose; it is all for these families who are held at the utmost nobility in Iowa City.

Showered in preferential treatment and scholarships, the players are the creators of the fanfare, the masterminds behind the magic. They work for the school, they work for the fans, and there is a question as to whether they should be paid.

The band is overlooked, underappreciated, and misunderstood. They create the fanfare, but only bounce off of what the team can give them. They are not as privy to the woes of the school, but more replaceable, and less valuable. They do not receive the same respect; they have no nobility compared to the team, though they may work side by side.

Hawkeye vodka is the worst thing on Earth. The student section is a product of a liquor store, and everyone’s words are slurred. Tailgating is a bigger culture than football, and all the Instagram captions are lies. Football season may be best season, but tailgating will always take precedent. Papers are due on Monday, and tests are on Tuesdays, but a handle of Hawkeye makes it all go away. Tailgating is the new deflection; it’s the newest craze to avoid responsibility.

The security guards are usually students who needed money and sacrificed their Saturday for everyone else. Their role is to only make sure drunk kids don’t die, and to get yelled at by middle aged moms with purses that are too big to go inside Kinnick. People try to take pictures on the field, and they get called dicks by someone whose breath smells like jungle juice. It’s especially worse when the crowd storms the field; they keep people from jumping on the goal posts even though it is futile.

“If you’re ever in a press box, the first rule is there’s no cheering in the press box. You do not cheer in the press box. … It’s unprofessional,” Alec explains. To think of football without screaming and cursing is to think of Iowa without corn. College students are forced to abandon instinct, much less, a football fan forgetting to act in their normal fashion. There is no place for being a fan in the press box. It is a necessary evil, but so contradictory to what it’s thought to be.

Standing at what seems to be the top of the world is actually the bottom of the totem pole. It’s symbolic in nature, to have a gesture where everyone stands in solidarity to support these families. It is not the glitz and glam and fanfare; it is reality for them daily. Any parent’s worst nightmare has come true; there is no beauty. There is beauty in the support, and beauty in hope, but there is no beauty in blind support or blind bandwagoning. They may sit at the top of Kinnick with the best view, but it is only on game day that this is the case.

Game day is a holiday, and each player has their role. The reality of it all is football may be more than two teams trying to score more than the other.

[xaephan]

some strange phan ramblings

i haven’t wrote a fic since like. 2008? maybe earlier. i don’t want to go back to my ffn and check. i don’t...really want to write a fic either, it’s more like i’m in a weird headspace and i’m projecting it onto my newest obsessions. i don’t even know how to put all this into one fic, even. it’s all just random bits and bobs that don’t really weave together all that well.

1) that angsty bullshit bit i want to write about dan and how he thinks he’s nothing without phil. their friends? all phil’s friends, really, before they realized it’s really danandphil as an entity and they indulgently include dan. pj, louise, cat--all met phil first (...i think. tbh i don’t even know lmao this is the Best Reality Fic of all time obv). phil has lots of friends that are just his--childhood, high school, college, he kept in touch with them all. dan though. other than their shared friends? he’s got nobody really.

their fans? really just like them for the mystery and the chemistry between them. he wouldn’t be anything without phil. his entire career wouldn’t exist without phil. all their big projects? starting from the whole bbc thing, it was always solo phil they want at first, then phil does what phil does best and drags dan in. something something more angst about how he’s more popular than phil now something something if phil ever decides to leave--leave the partnership, leave dan, leave in any capacity--dan loves him enough to let him go. he’s petty and jealous and not all that good of a person, but he’s good enough to do that. for phil. always for phil

2) that weird lawyer dan and youtuber/cafe owner phil au that nobody wants and i think i probably subconsciously plagiarized the idea from an inception fic? but uh, dan never messaged phil and went on to finish law school and became a mediocre lawyer. his parents are so so proud, his few friends think he got really lucky with the firm he joined--it’s so big! corporate law is where all the money is!--and dan likes it well enough. well no. he hates it, he hates it so much, but he doesn’t have anything else he can fall back on and he doesn’t even really have any passion in life he could maybe work at. everything’s just dull dull dull to him and. well, he’s mediocre but he’s still getting a decent paycheque so. stick with the devll you know, right?

louise is a bubbly paralegal and she’s kick ass and doesn’t take shit from any of the holier-than-thou lawyers in the firm and she has a soft spot for dan who is super awkward and procrastinates too much and dropped his files in front of the Big Lawyer Boss whose name is first in the firm name that one time and so never lived it down

phil is the pretty successful youtuber who didn’t make it as huge as he did in reality and so decides to get A Real Job and opens up a very small but v v cozy coffee shop across the road from the law firm dan works at. (it’s...it’s good investment or something idk) it’s got quirky decorations and a million different mugs and chairs that’ll eat you if you’re not careful. it’s got really great coffee but truly mediocre pastries he buys from a cheapo wholesale bakery. it’s also got a pretty nice piano in a corner, from when the previous owner had the cafe as a pretentious hipster place, and it was too heavy to move so phil just left it. covered the top in small plants and stuff tho, so it fits in alright.

dan goes in a few days after opening because he Really Needs Caffeine to live ‘cause lmao he stayed up two days in a row to work on a case. he falls in love with the coffee and then--secretly--the piano, and hey, that barista looks...kind of familiar? those eyes are pretty striking. he makes a mild fool out of himself ‘cause that’s dan for ya, and also he’s been awake for long enough that he’s tasting colours. he’s stressed and got a shit ton of work though, so he just appreciates the coffee and leaves really fast, to work on this case that makes him fucking depressed but hey firm lawyers low on the totem pole don’t need morality, amirite? but he goes back, ‘cause the decor is so not his style but it’s strangely comforting, and the coffee is truly great, and that piano? he hasn’t felt like he Wanted To Do Something for a really long time, but it’s kind of--calling to him, maybe, makes his fingers itch a bit.

he doesn’t see that barista from the first day for a good while (it’s vidcon or something idk) but the other two baristas there are nice and laid back and there’s free wifi! so dan comes to work there sometimes, when the office is driving him insane (he has a tiny little closet and its walls are drab and bleak and gray). his eyes keep straying to the piano, but nobody ever plays it, and--does it even work? it’s got so many plants on it, maybe it’s the new hot thing in decor. piano plant stand.

one day he just goes lmao fuck it what could go wrong and asks the curly-haired barista about it (pj isn’t strictly a barista, he does youtube and actually owns like 20% of the cafe, but he’s a people-person and wow a lot of these caffeine zombies give him good inspiration). he gets a ‘oh dude sure go try it! we don’t know if it’s in tune or anything, but as long as you don’t make terrible screeching noises feel free to play around’. and like. the cafe plays nice, soft, calming music a lot (there’s a lot of acoustic covers and it’s all very pretty), so dan hopes he won’t be too noisy but apparently nobody really cares ‘cause. caffeine zombies.

so dan does, and he’s fucking rusty as hell, and pj is right, the piano isn’t really in tune, but it’s still the most beautiful sound he’s heard in a long, long time. he actually feels good doing something for the first time in ages, and he--keeps going back. he wasn’t as bad as he was fearing (well no, he’s pretty terrible, but he picks simple things to tinker with and tries to not play loudly), and he gets better and better. it’s great stress relief and some of the other patrons will drop a comment or two at him and it’s all really nice

so phil comes back, right? and he’s been neglecting some backroom stuff like inventory and bookkeeping and stock levels--pj says 20% isn’t enough to make him care about this stuff and phil badly wants to hire someone to do this for him because. he doesn’t know anything about this??? his brother does all his merch stuff even though it’s, ya know, a small bit and martyn does it as a side-job so he can hype it up on his rv. but he’s been doing alright so far and his accountant hasn’t yelled at him too mush, so.

he thinks maybe pj is on a piano-cover kick at first, ‘cause it’s all songs he knows, even though it’s old stuff like final fantasy and muse, but then he finishes all the back room stuff and goes out one day (pj is threatening to quit if he has to man the front by himself any longer, ownership be damned), and there’s--that guy on the piano. the tall dude in an admittedly snazzy suit (as snazzy as a drab work-appropriate suit can be) who insulted his shirt that first time. and he’s, well, he’s pretty good! and also, ya know, pretty. objectively! when he plays piano and he’s into it and he’s swaying a little and--yeah okay, phil is Into It

something something they start talking something something omg so many things in common something something Fear Of The Future amirite what am i doing why am i wasting my life doing something i don’t really care for (dan) why am i clinging onto something that plateaued years ago and even though it’s still relatively good it hasn’t been Good if you know what i’m saying (phil)

and like. they help each Be Better and dan quits his job because the only person he even liked there was louise and they make this cafe really great. they start fooling around with baking for the shop and--they like it? also dan is actually weirdly good at it, for a dude who is kind of a kitchen noob before all this. they start making joint videos too and whoa, people like it? they love phil and dan together? and dan never branches out into his own channel but they do start a gaming thing, and their holiday baking vids are the stuff of yt legends because dan gets really perfectionist about it and phil is Just Terrible but their banter and domesticity really comes out in full force

‘cause. ya know, it’s kind of. how they live now, right? it’s all very precious and cute. they’re worryingly codependent v v fast and. that cliche about someone who comes into your life and brings all the colour that was missing before? yeah, that happens. they angst about it ‘cause that’s Not Healthy i guess i don’t know how this part goes but I Feel Strongly About It

their cafe starts being The Place for really delicious gourmet coffee and pastries that uh. don’t...always look good but taste like a little bit of heaven in your mouth. if you’re lucky you’ll hear some really great live piano once a blue moon too, so people gossip and spread the news and oh yeah, there’s these really pretty baristas? it’s in the middle of the posh downtown financial district (do those exist in the uk? aah), and it’s mostly busy older professional people so the fact it’s actually phil and dan doesn’t spread for a good while. they get really great business and dan starts doing experimental little things in the kitchen and handing them out as samples on sunday (downtown financial district so it’s really kind of dead on the weekend) and it becomes a really popular day for the cafe

and...idk. yt doesn’t mix well with running a business probably? so they cut back on one or other and something something angst but they’re really happy so it’s Good whatever

3) nothing but fluff about their forever home, a story that people far more talented than i have already written about. their old london apartment is just Terrible and they’re in legitimate danger living there (the gas leak thing? yeah that was actually worse than what they said on camera). it’s too small and cramped and breaking apart, so they decided to move pretty much after the tour finished and they had enough time to be human again. so, middle of 2016 pretty much

they had a lot of ideas for what they wanted, but they waffled back and forth over buying a house vs. renting, but decided on renting in the end. they need to be in london because they have a Thing they’re talking about with the bbc and their businesses are still here. it’s not really realistic to buy the kind of house they want in the city either--they don’t really have A Talk about it, but phil has a weird fascination with housing ads and over the years he’s pointed some (many) out to dan as favs and dan gives his opinions, and somewhere along the line, they decided on something with four bedrooms. one for the each of them, because they’re over 6 feet each and have the worst sleeping schedule ever, and really, no matter how big the bed is, they have trouble sleeping together sometimes. also they literally spend all their time together, so their own little space is good. but! back to the four bedrooms! so two for them, one guest suite for their family/friends, one for--well, they don’t really have A Talk about it either, but they both know it’ll be a room with soft yellow walls (dan has strong opinions on pastel pink and blue and the associations) and white trim, large airy windows and carefully blunted furniture. phil also has Strong Feelings about a garden and dan would love more privacy and neighbours that aren’t right next to them

so buying, not really realistic. they also had a really amazing year financially in 2016, but they won’t have that kind of income in 2017 so they’re more into investing at the moment. planning for the future they’ll have together--it’s a fact at this point, they haven’t considered being apart in years and years, it’s not even something they consciously consider anymore

they settle on renting something that’s a huge improvement on their old flat and dan goes a bit crazy with the sudden freedom to get his aesthetic going. he hasn’t liked his room in a year or so, the poor guy. they have A Talk about how much of their new place they want to show to their audience, and how they’ll be talking--and not talking--about the fact they’re moving together. they decided on not necessarily being more open, but giving less denials and letting the facts speak for themselves back in 2016, so they kind of just continue that. they’re both careful about how their wording about pets and future houses go, but they think it’s really quite obvious

so 2017 ends up being not as chill as they were hoping and their bbc Thing starts up. their upstairs is a sanctuary the both of them love, and dan made sure the decor has a theme that appeals to the both of them (silver and while and grey, calming and modern, but with lots of soft things and pops of colour). he’s maybe stepping away from the back, in the same way phil doesn’t need brights everywhere now, but it’s Good for them both still

they stay there for (idk i’m gonna throw a number here. 2-3 maybe) years at the flat, and it’s good, but dan is getting Really Broody and phil isn’t far behind, so they start looking for their forever home (they started calling it that after the liveshow, before they just said something like ‘a house maybe one day’ but--yeah, it sounds good to them. their home will always be each other, anyway). it takes much, much longer than either of them had hoped

they find it in the end, though! maybe brighton but also maybe another ‘suburb’ near london, where Their Thing with the bbc is still going, but they’re old hats at it now and their business is prospering without them constantly having to be the face of it, and their investments have done well enough that they can really afford it comfortably now. it’s got a big yard and a really adorable white fence that they kind of gave each other amused looks at, and--well, one of the four bedrooms is already a soft cream and it’s got a beautiful arched window that overlooks the backyard, and the family who owned it before them also had a home office going that would be perfect for their gaming stuff

they did some really cut-throat bidding and finalized the sale, but then they had to wait f o r e v e r before they could move in (’why is the busines like this, phil? why can’t it be faster?’). in the meantime, they maybe visit a shelter (or ten) and contacts this super scary lady who looks at their finances dubiously and asks them all sorts of questions, trying to decide if they’d make good parents. she understands youtube in an abstract sort of way but she knows them from the bbc Thing and hey, business owners is a plus. she decides they pass muster, and she warns them the years and years they could be waiting, but they have a good feeling

they move into their house in the middle of summer, which is A Mistake but their new place has ac, thank god, so other than a week or pure torture, they settle into it nicely. they hire someone to take care of the yard, because lmao, they totally underestimate lawn care, but asks them to leave the garden patch alone, and phil has a grand ol’ time with it while dan whines about how hot it is and phil, why do i have to out here too phil. they bring home an adorable corgi who has some issues but is still incredibly affectionate. their furniture that dan kind of went crazy picking (again) do not escape unscathed

they spend an autumn there, then a winter, and out of the blue the next spring, they get a call about a baby girl who the mother can’t care for, and do they want to maybe visit? so they do, and their fourth bedroom with the soft yellow walls and arched window is occupied very soon after

somewhere during that time is a small wedding only their family and immediate friends attend. it’s just a piece of paper, but they’ve learned that it still means something to them, so they do it. plus, legal benefits and--and they have to think about another being depending them now, right? the piece of paper is really useful for that.

in the end, i guess they lived happily ever after

#if my heart was a house you'd be home #text #i just wanted to write all this 'cause it wouldn't! get out of my head! #but it ain't going anywhere so #phan #phanfiction #in the loosest sense of the word lmao

[girlwholikessports]

Why I Will Never be a Patriots WAG

In the weeks leading up to my team playing in its record setting 9th Superbowl appearance, 7th with Brady/Belichick, and giving the greatest quarterback of all time a chance to win his 5th ring, there surprisingly aren’t a lot of compelling story lines for us to debate. But this one is extremely important. 

So, from a girls perspective, who is the hottest Patriots wife/girlfriend? I have never felt so ugly in my life than I have when thinking of the collection of WAGS (wives and girlfriends) stacked on this Patriots roster. And that’s saying a lot from someone who grew up in the 90s where my biggest fashion choice was how to match the elastics on my braces with my hair wrap and butterfly clips. 

Obviously Gisele is the most well known Patriot wife, and while some potentially blind people “don’t think she’s that pretty”, she makes more money than her husband from her looks alone. But let me blow your minds with the hot take that she is not even close to the hottest Patriot wife/girlfriend. 

Just like they are on the field, the Patriots players may be winning too much off the field. Keyshawn Johnson might think the Patriots receivers wouldn’t make any other teams 53 man roster, but the WAGS of those receivers are an all star crew themselves. 

It’s no secret I have long wished to become a WAG, and obviously a Patriots WAG is ideal for me since I’d get to quit my job, go to all the games and possibly meet Bill Belichick. I used to think Wes Welker was setting my sights low and I named my cat after him, but even he married Ms. Hooters International, a straight dimepiece and they now have 2 of the most adorable kids of all time. 

This could be us but you’re not an NFL player and I’m not Ms Hooters International. 

After seeing this lineup, I’m definitely looking at another 40 years in the workplace making $.73 for every dollar. So let’s take a look. 

Starting from the bottom with a few Patriots players that are typically on the inactive list or are on the practice squad. Yes, these guys may not be getting a lot of playing time on the field, but they are pretty damn easy on the eyes are hopefully getting a lot of playing time off the field with some of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. Ugh.

Tyler Gaffney’s wife Kristen Louelle:

Another practice squad-er who I’m fairly positive most Patriots fans have never heard of, DJ Foster and his smokeshow girlfriend Ciera Liguori.

Jacoby Brissett may be a third string QB on the only team in history to have 3 different quarterbacks throw for 400 yards, but his girlfriend (who has my favorite girl name and future daughter’s name) Sloan Young is a first string girlfriend. They met in college and apparently Jacoby doesn’t drink or smoke so not for everyone but I guess just hot girls named Sloan and the best franchise in professional sports. Not too bad.

Even fucking Kyle Van Noy who replaced Jamie Collins on the field has a smoke of a girlfriend. All winning all the time here in New England. It’s like the Midas Touch for getting girls.

In a move no one expected, Rob Gronkowski does have one special lady that helps clean his bedpan after surgery and presumably cleans up the smashed Bud Light cans that litter Casa de Gronk, where I’m also assuming he lives with his 12 brothers, dad, and babysitter Goon. It takes a special breed to infiltrate the Gronk family, and I guess you also have to be physically beautiful (aka dumb blonde). Camille Kostek is always running the Barstool snap on game day in the suite with the other hot gfs mentioned above, and it seems like they have formed their own clique. I imagine as a Patriots WAG in this suite I would be forced to watch the game from the TV in the suite, afraid to stand next to people this beautiful. Previously a Pats cheerleader who had to quit to date Gronk too.

Moving on to the cutest family of the 2016-2017 Patriots, Martellus Bennett’s wife Siggi and the most adorable child since Riley Curry.  

Straight style, class and drop dead gorgeous. And I’ll just go fuck myself that she’s had a baby and looks like that.

Now we’re moving into the upper echelon of attractiveness, the highest on the Patriots WAGS totem pole. 2 of the top 3 are Victoria’s Secret Angels and the other is former Miss Universe and the most beautiful human being on the planet soooo...

Julian Edelman has been slinging it since he entered the league (no pun intended but kinda) but won one Superbowl and started to climb the model ladder. He went from banging 19 year olds from Storyville to fucking 2 models, Ella Rose and Adriana Lima at the same time. He has never tried harder to be Tom Brady than when he got Ella Rose pregnant and then left her high and dry for Adriana Lima. Apparently not even that serious yet Adriana is low key coming to the AFC Championship game calling Edelman her lover. Touche, Julian, touché.

Imagine Adriana Lima calling you "my lover." Ah merda! pic.twitter.com/4JVSKonlOt

I’m not going to waste any time on Gisele because like I told you before, she’s not close to the top spot on this list.

These 2 in the suite together? More intimidated by their accents than attractiveness TBH, I’m terrible with accents.

Lastly, and CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, the scientifically proven most beautiful human on the planet. She’s from Cranston, RI, went to Boston University and NO I know what you’re all thinking, it’s not me. I’m pretty sure next to her I would look like a pumpkin after it’s been left outside for a few weeks after Halloween. Since I was about 15 Olivia Culpo had been widely known as the most beautiful person in Rhode Island, but over 10 years later after being crowned Miss UNIVERSE, dating the hot Jonas brother and now blessing Danny Amendola, Olivia is far and away the hottest person and Patriots WAG. Most perfect eyebrows on earth, no plastic surgery and wait for it, she actually eats food like a normal person. I truthfully am more jealous of Danny Amendola than Olivia Culpo in this relationship. No homo but kinda homo have you seen her? Girl all the guys want and all the girls want to be. On a scale of 1-10 she’s a 20. Find me one girl in Atlanta this gorgeous.

Most attractive couple of the century. Sorry Tom and Gisele, this is New England’s power couple.