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#I like the idea that his colors fluctuate based on his mood and gets closer to his neon colors when he’s with poppy :)

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

part 2

5K notes · View notes

ginawritesstories · 6 years

Text

blissful affliction, concept test

Genre: New Adult | Urban Fantasy Word count: 5,943 | Three Chapters | Incomplete Rating: Strong language and references to sexual content Summary: Insomnia and running his coffee shop is all Cameron knows until he’s thrust into the lives of two preternatural enemies.

Chapter 1: give me just one taste

Reese is starving. He’s withering.

His shop doesn’t open for another eight hours and he’s not sure he can survive that long. Normally he’d go to a bar and flirt, but he can’t get past the thought of how insincere it all is. It makes him gag just thinking about it.

He keeps his hands in his pockets as he pushes past people on the dark, city streets. He’s so dizzy that walking from street light to street light starts to look like a strobe light.

Then he hears a sniffle.

There are cars driving past, horns, chatter; the city is never quiet at night. Yet he hears the sniffle like it’s the only sound in an empty room.

He hates himself. He hates himself for being drawn to it.

He peeks into an alleyway and sees a man there, maybe about his age, it’s hard to tell in the darkness.

He’s wearing pajamas with a jacket thrown over them and Reese can feel the insomnia rolling off of him.

The man paces, breathing harshly as he tries and fails to fight back tears.

Reese starts walking toward him without realizing what he’s doing.

He’s withering. He can’t help himself.

The man startles as he sees Reese walking towards him. The man glances behind himself, suddenly aware there’s no other exit to the alleyway. “Hey, what‒what are you doing?”

The man takes a step back as Reese gets too close to him.

Reese considers saying something, but he’s so exhausted.

He catches the man’s neck in his hand, fingers digging lightly into the hair on his nape.

The man swallows, stays still. Reese can feel the man’s fear overwhelm his sadness, but the sadness is still there, echoing deep below the surface.

Reese breathes it in, presses his lips to the man’s temple.

The man doesn’t move and Reese thinks for a moment that the man is an idiot. A mysterious figure in tight jeans and tattoos curling past the collar of a worn leather jacket approaches him in an alleyway and the man doesn’t run or fight?

But Reese can’t really focus on the man’s poor judgement right now because as his lips touch skin, he’s overwhelmed. The sadness and fear and curiosity wash over him like a warm blanket.

Reese sighs, sated. “Thank you.”

He turns and walks away.

The man stands there, sniffles one more time, and watches him go.

-x-

Cameron hasn’t slept.

Or maybe he has.

He’s not even sure anymore. He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and can’t quite bring himself to recognize the face looking back at him. Forgotten meals and fickle sleep tighten his skin. He brushes a hand through his jet black hair and wonders if bleaching it would make him look more alive.

He turns from the mirror and wonders why he even bothered to look.

Trudging around the street, he drinks his ironic morning coffee as he runs some errands before opening up his coffee shop.

The cafe is small, barely functional, but it’s his and he loves it.

He tries to keep fresh flowers on the table every morning so he zips his jacket to brave the cold, winter air and leaves his apartment before sunrise to head to the flower shop.

He’s not sure why the owner opens so early, but he’s not about to complain. It works for him and the flowers aren’t insanely expensive. It’s not a fancy flower shop, just like Cameron’s cafe isn’t a fancy coffee shop. He feels a sort of kinship to it.

He’s never really talked to the owner much. He should one day, but 5am isn’t a great hour for conversation.

Cameron makes it to the shop as the sky starts to gain some color, just a hint of it.

“Why have you been up since three?!” Cameron hears a voice float through the flowers. He peaks around to spot the owner frowning as he holds his phone to his ear and waters some plants. The owner spots him and looks up with a bright smile. “Morning! The usual?”

Cameron shrugs. “I don’t know why you call it the usual. You never give me the same stuff.”

The owner laughs happily, nods as he focuses on the phone call again. “Maybe I should just leave the hoodie there then if you hate it so much.” He giggles. “I’d tell you to wear it and feed you some line about red looking good on you, but we both know you look best in pink.” More giggling. Cameron smiles to himself. Love is cute. Even at 5am, love is cute. “Hey, I’ve got a customer here. I’ll talk to you later? Go back to sleep.” He hangs up and blushes as he meets Cameron’s gaze, shy after being overheard.

Cameron hesitates. “Sorry, I know I’ve been coming here forever but…I don’t think I’ve ever asked you your name.”

The owner snorts, fully energized despite the early hour. Cameron takes a moment to actually look at him for the first time. He’s cute‒Okay, no. He’s gorgeous. And much, much too happy for 5am. He wears a bright yellow sweater behind his dark gray apron. Cameron’s trying to decide if the fucker has naturally perfect hair or if he spends time styling it into the I-woke-up-this-way look when the man breaks him out of his stupor, “I don’t know if I’d call a few months forever. It’s okay. I’m Noah. Feel free to browse around like usual.”

Cameron hums, smirking at the jab. He sips his coffee as he wanders. He drags his eyes away. Noah really is gorgeous, surrounded by his flowers. Maybe Noah’s taken, but Cameron’s just looking. Looking is harmless.

Noah’s ideology regarding his shop is a little different than most flower shops. While people tend to give flowers specific meanings, Noah doesn’t believe in that. Not really. He thinks flowers mean different things to different people. He doesn’t like enforcing ideas onto flowers if someone is struck differently by them.

For fancy bouquets, he’ll help the customer define the feeling each flower gives them and he’ll include a personal flower meaning card based on their answers.

Cameron’s never said it out loud, but he really loves the idea.

He supposes Noah must be aware he likes it here. He comes every morning to buy flowers for the cafe. He wouldn’t be back if he didn’t like it.

Noah whistles to catch his attention.

Cameron blinks himself awake and looks up.

Noah laughs across the room. “You okay? Looked like you just fell asleep for a second.”

Cameron clears his throat. “Yeah, didn’t sleep well. Didn’t sleep at all.”

Noah hums apologetically. He moves toward Cameron. “I can pick some flowers for you today if you’re too out of i‒”

As he gets closer to Cameron, he suddenly freezes.

Cameron turns to him, curious. Noah’s eyes are locked on Cameron’s temple.

Cameron subconsciously itches at it. “Noah?”

Noah drags his eyes away. His voice is quiet, far away. “You smell weird.”

Cameron snorts nervously, “Thank you?”

Noah shakes it off. “I’m so sorry. I just thought‒never mind. Flowers. How do you feel about chrysanthemums?”

Cameron shrugs.

Noah laughs. “That’s what I thought. I’ll grab you a few different colors.”

When Noah passes the flowers to him, their hands graze. In the past, he’s barely noticed it, but for some reason it catches his attention today. Noah’s never been necessarily flirty with him, but he always brushes their hands like that. It reminds him of…he can’t place the deja vu.

Cameron walks out in a daze with the collection of flowers. Two blocks down is his cafe.

He unlocks the doors and flips the sign from closed to open. He turns on the grill for the breakfast sandwiches, powers on the espresso machine, fills up the vases with water. It’s a normal morning.

But his temple still itches with a phantom touch. Maybe he did fall asleep last night. He had some weird dream…

The morning goes on as usual. Customers filter in, get what they need, and go. A few sit for a while and it’s around 10am that Peyton comes in to help.

The lunch rush comes and goes but Cameron still can’t shake the mist in his mind.

Images of a man in an alleyway continue to flash through his mind, but like shadows being obliterated by light, the memory of Noah’s smile obliterates them.

It’s odd. It’s not that he has feelings for Noah, but there was something about his energy that perfectly negated the pain he was feeling. He’d never really thought about it before, just assumed it was how his emotions fluctuate as he wakes up and his coffee settles in. Now that he thinks about it, his mood has always drastically improved after seeing Noah.

A hand snaps in front of his face and Cameron blinks.

Peyton smirks at him, only a year younger than Cameron himself. He’s Cameron’s best employee so his promotion to manager nearly went without saying. “You seem more out of it than usual.”

Cameron makes a face at that. “I’m not usually out of it.”

Peyton laughs lightly, “You daydream a lot. You were muttering to yourself for like an hour yesterday with your brow furrowed.” He pokes between Cameron’s eyebrows. “I thought your face would get stuck like that.”

Cameron swats his hand away. “I’m just stressed. I haven’t been sleeping.”

Peyton’s teasing stops instantly. “Oh. What’s wrong?”

Cameron shakes his head. “I wish this place was bigger.” He looks around the cafe. It’s cramped, always has been. It was all he could afford when he bought the place, but it’s nothing what he dreamed it would be.

He imagined an open space, shelves of books and CDs, a stage for live music. He really wanted this cafe to be an artist’s haven, but he just didn’t have the money for that. He still doesn’t.

Peyton pats him on the back. “You’ll get there.”

Cameron nods, eyes staying closed a little too long as his lack of sleep catches up with him. “You’re okay by yourself, right?”

Peyton smiles softly. “Yeah, Cam. Get some sleep. It’s past the rush. I’ll be fine to close alone.”

Cameron grabs his stuff and leaves without arguing.

His head feels heavy, so he takes a longer path home than usual hoping the cool fall air would help clear his mind so he can actually fall asleep when he gets home.

His feet stop moving.

There’s this weird feeling…he can’t place it.

He turns and looks out at the street but sees nothing.

He looks in the other direction, into the storefront he’s passing. It’s a tattoo shop.

The door chimes as it opens and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound in the quiet street.

A young man is smiling, face red and absolutely smitten as he says goodbye and leaves the shop. The man throws Cameron a weird look and then gestures at the shop. “If you’re thinking about a tattoo, no one’s as good as Reese. He’s a good guy and he’s talented on top of that.”

Cameron blinks as the man walks away. He looks into the shop through the window and his eye focuses on a man in the shop, standing still and staring at Cameron with wide eyes.

A feeling of dread swirls in him as he focuses on the man’s silhouette.

It’s the man from his dream.

He touches his temple, steadies himself, and walks into the shop.

Chapter 2: if you’re lying i’ll listen

Reese tries to act casual, “Hey, looking to get a tattoo?”

Cameron doesn’t say anything. He uses the opportunity to get a good look at Reese.

He wears dark jeans with a black t-shirt that he cut the neck deeper on. His hair is a smokey lavender. He’s not as intimidating in the daylight as he was in the alleyway.

The first thing Cameron can manage to say is, “That wasn’t a dream.”

Reese smiles, “What wasn’t a dream?”

Cameron narrows his eyes, still tired and confused. He taps his temple, “You kissed me. Why?”

Reese laughs and throws a weird look at Cameron. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I’m just running my shop. Thank you for visiting.”

It almost works. Cameron starts to doubt himself. Maybe this man just looks like the man in his dream. Maybe he really is losing it.

But then Reese makes the mistake of glancing over at the chair in reception. A worn leather jacket is hung over the back of it. Cameron follows his gaze and sees it, sure of himself now. He shakes his head. “No, it was you. It was definitely you.”

Reese sighs, defeated, “Did you feel better after?”

It takes Cameron a moment to catch on as Reese actually acknowledges their interaction. “What? Better?”

Reese turns away from him, tidying up his shop, “Yeah, you were crying. Did you feel better?”

Cameron supposes he did kind of feel better. “Well you scared the sad out of me so sure.”

Reese frowns. “But you wouldn’t say you felt better?”

Cameron watches him, tries to analyze his expression. “Are you asking for a yelp review or something? Why the fuck did you walk into an alleyway and kiss a stranger?”

Reese's hands clench into fists. He turns to square up to Cameron. “Did you feel better or didn’t you? Just answer the question.”

Cameron cowers a bit at the intensity emanating from Reese. “I sort of felt nothing. All my stress evaporated for a bit. I think I managed to sleep for about an hour.”

Reese latches onto that. “So it helped you sleep?”

Cameron can’t keep up with the emotion shifts, “Well if I did sleep I was fucking restless about it and I still feel like shit today so no. No, it didn’t fucking help. Now tell me why the hell you did it.”

Reese's eyebrows raise. “No need to get defensive. Wow. You curse a lot.”

Cameron huffs, frustrated, “You just admitted to cornering me in an alley and kissing me. So yeah, I’m a bit fucking defensive.”

Reese shrugs. “You’re cute.”

Cameron narrows his eyes. “Is that a statement or some bullshit explanation?”

Reese smiles, eyes squinting it’s so wide, “Both.”

Cameron watches him, studies him. He expected something else, but…“So you saw me crying and decided you should just kiss my forehead? Who the fuck raised you to do that?”

Reese gasps, offended. “Don’t talk about my mothers like that.”

Cameron pinches the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, just leave me alone.”

Reese scoffs, “You’re the one who walked into my shop.”

Cameron grinds his teeth. He lets out a breath and releases the frustration he feels. “Whatever.” He turns and leaves the shop without another word.

As the door chimes to announce Cameron’s exit, Reese relaxes. His smile falls away.

He looks at himself in the mirror he has hanging in the front. He looks as weak as he feels.

Usually he can get by for a day or two after seeing a client, but he used up a lot of his ‘back stock’ from his encounter with Cameron and it leaves him needing more.

He sighs angrily, grabs his jacket, and switches the sign from open to closed as he locks the shop and goes out to a bar.

-x-

The loud alarm taunts him as Cameron forces himself to wake up from another night of barely any sleep.

He follows his normal routine: makes his coffee, heads to the flower shop.

Except, when he gets there, Noah’s not flitting around the store like usual. He seems to have been waiting for Cameron to get there.

Noah frowns as soon as Cameron walks in, itches his nose.

Cameron blinks. “Uh, is something wrong?”

Noah nods. “You smell weird again.”

Cameron blinks. “It’s not like I have new cologne. How can you even smell anything surrounded by flowers?”

There’s something in Noah’s tone, like he’s offended. “Have you met anyone new lately?”

Cameron’s thrown, remembers his confrontation with Reese yesterday. “I don’t know if I’d say it was something so civil as meeting.”

Noah cuts to the chase, “Who was it and where are they? I know I sound crazy, but it’s important.”

Yeah, he does sound crazy. “All this cause I smell weird?”

Noah’s resolve falters. “I know we don’t know each other well, but can you just trust me? It would take forever to explain.”

Cameron sighs, pinches his nose again. “I’m starting to feel like I’m not even awake, just hallucinating from insomnia. Whatever, some asshole. He works at a tattoo shop nearby.”

Noah nods, thinks about that. “A tattoo shop. Okay.” He shakes it off and suddenly his normal, cheerful smile is back. “So, what can I get for you today?”

Cameron shrugs and lets Noah change the topic, “The usual: whatever you feel like giving me.”

Noah smiles, nods to himself. “Sure. I’ll get that right out.”

Noah’s calm and peaceful as he rings Cameron up, but as soon as Cameron’s out the door, Noah takes off his apron.

He locks up his shop and searches on his phone for tattoo shops nearby. He makes his way to the closest one.

It’s 6am so it’s closed, but Noah figured no one would be around this early. He still gets the confirmation he was after: this shop reeks of a Toru. He definitely owns the shop.

Now that Noah knows where the Toru is, he just has to decide what he’s going to do about it.

Chapter 3: i’ll swallow your poison ‘til it runs through my veins

Reese doesn’t even realize what he’s doing before he finds himself in the alleyway he met Cameron in at 3am.

The entire time walking here, he was caught in a mantra telling himself that stories from his customers and flirting with strangers was enough, but there was something in Cameron’s eyes…

Reese is startled out of his stupor as the apartment door opens to the alleyway and Cameron walks out in sweatpants and an oversized cardigan. He’s holding a mug of tea and it steams in his hand.

He nearly drops it as he makes eye contact with Reese. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Reese says nothing as he tries to decide how to defend himself or if it’s even worth lying over.

Cameron’s expression hardens. “Look, it’s flattering that you think I’m cute, but I fucking live here and I don’t know you so this is stalker-y and I’m gonna call the cops if I see you here again.” He turns to go back inside.

That spurs Reese to say something, “No, wait!”

Cameron hesitates. He hates himself for thinking Reese looks beautiful in the moonlight. He’s a creep. A beautiful creep, but still a creep.

Reese covers his face with his hands. “I don’t sleep well either.”

Cameron blinks, hopes Reese has more to say than that.

Reese clears his throat. “I didn’t walk by that first time looking for you or anything. I was just going for a walk. You’re out here cause you can’t sleep, right? That’s all I was doing. I was sleep deprived and you were cute. This is my usual insomnia route. You just happen to be on it.”

Reese can see Cameron’s defenses drop a bit at that. “That’s…almost fair, but you weren’t walking just now. You were standing there in the alley like you were waiting for me.”

Reese curses in his head, but tries not to reveal how flustered he is. “I felt bad. I paused. I know I freaked you out. I wasn’t waiting for you. I’m just as surprised as you are. I mean, do you come out here at 3am every morning? That’s quite the schedule you’ve got for your insomnia.”

Cameron lets out a long breath. He studies Reese's face for a long time before he says anything. “Fine. Fucking fine. Sit and talk with me for a bit then. Maybe if I can see you’re not a freak, I’ll sleep better at night.”

Reese scoffs, “Wow, so you’re blaming me for your insomnia now?”

Cameron rolls his eyes. “I blame stress for my insomnia and you’re adding to it, so yeah.”

Reese hesitates as Cameron sits on the steps to his apartment building. “I don’t even know your name. I gave you mine.”

Cameron’s eyes are droopy, but Reese can feel the stress that he talked about seep out of him. “Cameron.”

Reese sits on the step beside him. He wants to sit close and touch him, but he doesn’t push it just yet. If he’s right, then waiting for the right moment will be worth it.

They sit in silence for a long time.

Wind blows through the alleyway pretty strongly and Reese is glad for his leather jacket.

He glances at Cameron’s thin sweatpants. “Aren’t you cold?”

Cameron shrugs apathetically.

Reese's bored. He doesn’t like this slow game he’s chosen to play. It’s easier with customers. He only gets a little at a time from them, but they’re there for a long time so it ends up being worth it.

He’s hoping Cameron will be the opposite. It was a lot the other night, so he’s trying to bide his time as he chases the high. It’s just so boring. “You have any tattoos?”

Cameron snorts. “That’s the best conversation starter you could think of?”

Reese nods. “Tattoos are good conversation starters. There’s always a story behind them.”

Cameron laughs quietly, it’s cute and low. He holds his mug with one hand and reaches back to push the hair up from around his ear. Right behind his ear Reese can see the word ‘forward’ written in script. It’s a beautiful, simple tattoo.

Reese nods. “So what’s the story behind it?”

Cameron tsks, “Tell one of yours first.”

Reese glances down at himself, hums as he thinks of where to start. Cameron has a small tattoo, so he tries to think of which of his small tattoos has the best story. “Ah.” He holds out his left hand and pulls his sleeve back, shows the inside of his wrist.

The tattoo looks like a doodle a kid would draw. It’s like godzilla or something, with fangs that drip blood.

Cameron snorts. “You got that shit tattooed onto your skin?”

Reese hums. “Yeah, I had this diary growing up and some kid at school found that drawing and the entry I wrote around it. It was this angsty teen thing where I called myself a monster so he started calling me that to tease me. Kids are awful, aren’t they? So you know, as a kid does, I told him I’d get it tattooed onto me cause it was a cool nickname and he laughed and didn’t believe me. I was fourteen but my friend had an older brother who had a tattoo shop and he seemed to agree it was a worthwhile investment. So I walked into school the next day with it. You should’ve seen his face. That kid never spoke to me again after that.”

Cameron’s eyes go wide through the story but at the end he snorts and controls his expression. “Wow. That’s some dedication to teen angst.”

Reese smiles widely. “Your turn.”

Cameron shrugs. “It’s not a fun story.”

Reese tsks, “My story was rooted in self hatred. It doesn’t have to be a fun story to be a good one.”

Cameron snorts, but he doesn’t seem to really be laughing. “It’s nothing cool. Whenever I stop moving I just feel useless, pointless. The world crashes down on me as soon as I feel like I’m not improving somehow so I just remind myself to keep moving forward.”

Reese hesitates. He wonders if this is his moment.

He reaches out a hand hesitantly. “Can I see it again?”

Cameron glances at Reese's hand and then at his face, judging him again before answering. “Sure.”

Reese moves his hand to brush Cameron’s hair back. At the end of the motion, he finally lets his fingers brush Cameron’s skin.

It’s as addicting as he remembers it being.

Cameron’s heart is a buffet.

Usually a casual touch like this doesn’t incite a reaction, but Cameron’s emotions are so rampant that he can feel it as they start to leave him.

Cameron jerks away from him. “What the fuck?”

Reese smiles, energized. “I told you I’m a monster, didn’t I?”

Cameron’s guard goes back up again. Reese can see it in his eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

Reese taps his own heart. “Do you feel lighter?”

Cameron tries to control his expression, but Reese can see confusion and fear in his eyes.

Reese holds his hand out, palm up. “The longer you hold on, the lighter you’ll feel.”

Cameron’s not sure what to do with that sentence. “What does that mean?”

Reese wiggles his fingers. “One way to find out.”

Maybe it’s because it’s 3am, but Cameron eventually reaches out and lays his hand on top of Reese's.

The stress and anxiety tormenting his mind seem to fly away from him. Reese breathes it in.

Cameron pulls his hand away again. He stares at Reese, stares hard. Reese can tell he’s trying to rationalize what just happened, but can’t. “That happens whenever you touch someone?”

Reese nods. “It does.”

Cameron doesn’t mean for the words to slip out, “Sex must suck.”

Reese laughs, lips quirking up, “It does not.”

Cameron barely remembers to put his mug down as he leans forward and presses his lips against Reese's hungrily. It’s stupid, stupid, stupid, but Reese is gorgeous and he makes the crazy die down and Cameron needs it.

It’s just a few seconds and they pull away, but it’s an opening. They stare at each other, waiting to see what the other will do. They could laugh it off and part ways or…

Reese is shocked that Cameron’s the one to break the silence. He was just waiting to make it seem like he wasn’t desperate, “I’m gonna break every rule about talking to strangers but do you want to come inside?”

Reese has Cameron pinned to the wall, mouth on his neck, inside of his apartment and for some reason Cameron’s first thought is I forgot my mug outside.

The rest of the night is kind of a blur.

When Cameron wakes up, it feels like he’s still dreaming.

He blinks at the ceiling.

He forgot what it felt like to be well rested.

A loud snore bursts his bubble as Reese tightens his hold on Cameron’s waist, leg thrown over him.

To say the sex was good would be a massive understatement, but Cameron’s still surprised at himself.

Just hours ago he thought Reese was a creepy stalker and now they’re tangled in bed naked, reeking of sex.

The light coming in the window seems weird too. For a moment he wonders if his eyesight has improved from actually keeping his eyes closed at night for more than an hour or two. Then he realizes just how bright it is. “Oh fuck.”

He forces Reese's arms off of him as he reaches for his phone. It’s 9am.

He tears himself from where Reese is reaching for him again and shoots out of the bed. “I’m fucking late for work. Fuck.”

Reese whines at the cold air as Cameron gets out of the bed.

Cameron’s tugging on clothes quickly, more energized and awake than he’s felt in years. “Don’t go back to fucking sleep. I’m not an idiot. We just met. You’re not staying here. Even if it makes me later, I’m locking the door with you outside of it. So get the fuck up.”

Reese rolls onto his back and pouts at Cameron as he puts his belt on. “Can’t we just have sex again?”

Cameron snorts. “No, I have to open my cafe.”

Reese raises an eyebrow. “Your cafe? If it’s yours then you can’t be late. You’re not gonna fire yourself, are you?”

Cameron glares at him. “No, and this apartment can’t pay for itself either. I’ve already lost three hours of revenue.”

Reese closes his eyes again. “I changed my mind on your forward mentality. It sucks. Don’t go forward. Stay in bed and have more sex.”

Cameron throws Reese's clothes at him. “Get dressed or I’ll drag you out of here naked.”

Reese sighs heavily. “God, you’re not fun when you talk. I thought you were boring for not talking while we fucked but thank god you didn’t.”

Cameron doesn’t even respond as he darts out to the kitchen. He’s on cruise control to make himself some coffee, but then stops.

He slept for five pretty decent hours. He puts the coffee beans back down and decides against it. He doesn’t need it today.

He’s glad when Reese grumpily walks out of the bedroom. “I’ll walk with you. I guess I can open my shop too.”

Cameron lets Reese follow him out and locks the door.

When they get out on the street, Cameron glances around a moment before he finds his mug from last night and picks it up. Then he pushes Reese in the direction of the tattoo shop. “You already know where I live, I don’t need you to know where I work.”

Reese groans. “Why are you so paranoid? I thought we bonded over tattoo stories. Besides, you already said cafe and you’re walking there so it wouldn’t take me long to find you if I wanted to.”

Cameron seethes for a moment, but he really doesn’t have time to waste. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He takes off toward his cafe and Reese follows behind him, curious and bored more than anything.

He was also absolutely right about Cameron. He could go into isolation for a week right now and still feel sated.

Reese keeps talking to Cameron as they walk even though they’re not side by side. Reese can’t help it. He’s so hyper. All of the borrowed emotions buzzing around in his head are exhilarating. As much as Cameron feels lots of stress, there’s a quiet burning passion in him and it leaves Reese floating on cloud nine. “Can this be a regular thing?”

Cameron glares over his shoulder. “What, you stalking me on my way to work?”

Reese laughs loudly, confidently. “No, the other thing.”

Cameron shrugs without turning around again. They don’t talk again until Cameron’s unlocking the shop.

Reese follows him in and Cameron glares again. Reese holds up his hands defensively. “What? I’ll buy a coffee. That’s the least I can do for your three hours of lost revenue, right?”

Cameron wants to kick him out, but the business part of his brain won’t let him lose a sale. “Whatever.” He puts his mug under the counter since he didn’t want to take it back upstairs.

Reese laughs and sits at a table while Cameron moves around quickly, turning all the lights on. “You say whatever a lot, but it doesn’t suit you. You care too much. Your whatevers are fake.”

Cameron ignores him.

Reese just keeps talking, unbothered by Cameron’s silence now that he’s adjusted to it. “It was good last night, wasn’t it? I thought it was.”

Cameron relents since it’s clear Reese won’t stop even if he doesn’t respond. “Yeah.”

Reese whistles. “Wow, the enthusiasm. I think we should do it again.”

Cameron focuses on getting a pot of coffee ready for customers in a rush. “You said.”

“No, I asked if you wanted to do it again. You never answered.” Reese gets up and stares at the premade pastries in the display.

Cameron watches Tae, suspicious and curious as he always is. “I don’t really hook up.”

Reese laughs. “Well you did last night.”

Cameron wants to say Well that’s different but he doesn’t want to fluff Reese's ego. It was different, but he’s not sure what was so different exactly. Reese hinted at some power, and Cameron’s not sure if he wants to acknowledge it or pretend nothing happened.

Reese puts a ten dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll take a mocha latte and a pain de chocolat.”

Cameron snorts, grinning. “We call them chocolate croissants here but sure, be fancy.”

Reese nods. “Thanks. I will be.”

Cameron rings him up. He warms up the croissant without asking. He figures Reese likes to indulge. He got that sense from him last night with the lingering kisses and teasing touches. It was intense, but it was slow. They took their time.

He makes the latte in silence.

When both items are ready, he puts them on the counter.

Reese smiles, “Thank you.” He takes them and sits down.

Cameron raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were opening your shop.”

Reese talks around a mouthful of croissant. “Don’t usually open ‘til 11. Besides, this place is cute. Dunno why I’ve never been before.”

Now there were a lot of things Reese could’ve said that Cameron would’ve played off and made up some bullshit excuse as to why Reese should just leave.

But Reese complimented his store…

“Thanks.”

Reese smiles. “You’re really proud of it. Why don’t you talk about it more? You can brag.”

Cameron shrugs. “It took a lot of hard work. Not much else to say.”

Reese narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” Reese holds up the pastry and the drink. “These are fucking delicious and I get the feeling you could make both of these from scratch with your eyes closed. This place is your baby.”

Cameron blushes. It’s soft and vulnerable and Reese can practically taste it from here. “Yeah.”

Reese whines and leans back in his chair. “Oh, come on, really? My dick was inside of you. How do you still not trust me enough to say more than that?”

Cameron takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes as he does, and then lets it out. “Look, if you really wanna talk, come back at 5 when we close, okay?”

A bell chimes as a customer walks in with a wide grin, “Cameron, what happened? You never open late.”

Cameron’s eyes glance over to Reese, but his expression betrays nothing. “Mental health day. Haven’t been sleeping. Sorry, Claire, I should’ve posted a notice on the door.”

Claire shrugs and sits at the bar. “Take care of yourself, man. That’s good to hear actually. You’re here practically all day. I was starting to worry about you.”

It’s strange.

Cameron falls into an easy rapport with her.

The conversation itself isn’t strange, but Reese's reaction to it is.

Maybe it’s the borrowed emotions still buzzing around inside of him, but he never quite felt like this before.

He’s jealous.

He’s jealous that Cameron is speaking easily with someone else.

He’s confused enough by his own internal conflict to throw out the paper from his croissant and take the rest of his coffee to go.

Cameron doesn’t even wave goodbye.

It’s strange.

Reese feels and it’s strange.

To make matters worse, Reese's caught off guard at his shop.

A blonde man stands out front, scarf pulled over his nose like he smells something rotten.

Reese can relate.

He’s never seen this man before, but his hackles raise with one whiff of him. He lowers his voice, deep and threatening. “What’s a fucking Ataeru doing in front of my shop?”

Noah glares over his scarf and lowers it to spit out, “Nice to meet you too, asshole.”

What did you think?

#prose #writing sample

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artificialanomaly · 7 years

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Been a while since I did anything Sinday-related.

It’s funny how I’ll see things that super remind me of headcanons/brainstorming I’ve kept to myself, and lately a lot of it’s been on @bioxdroid (then again, they’re awesome)

One of them is this: my headcanons about Cell and mixed race reproduction.*

*Referencing recent implications in bioxdroid’s amazing RRA-verse (and I think there was a joke/crack thread a while back about people thinking Cell was pregnant?)

This has been on my mind for a long time, but it’s become more refined lately, and more tied specifically to the AU where Bulma adopts Present!Cell and its future directions, but I’ve been thinking this concept can apply to any AU (and closer-to-canon AU) I have for Cell.

A lot of science fantasy/sci fi liberties are taken with this a.k.a. none of this will be largely scientifically accurate.

So, Cell can do similar like Vegeta and Goku have done; have a form of sexual intercourse with another race, and produce a mixed-race child. This is pretty much just an unexpected mutation and side-effect of his mixed DNA.

A lot of this is just to do with my own preference, because why not. See, I’ve come to like more and more the idea that with Cell’s really unique/bizarre biology, if he has a form of sexual intercourse with another, he’s the one who gets knocked up.

Granted, also thought of that since he essentially asexually reproduced the Cell Jr.’s--they came from solely him. Just thinking that even when reproducing through sexual intercourse with another, he’s the one who still bears the resulting offspring.

And he delivers the same way with the Cell Jr.’s--the mixed-race children will come from his expanding stinger. Though the whole process is slower than how Cell produced the Cell Jr.’s.

Backing up here--I keep saying a form of sexual intercourse. It’s different for Cell, because he’s different.

This part was super inspired by this headcanon on Namekian biology/reproduction:

http://agirlnameded.tumblr.com/post/150076587228/namekian-biologyreproductiongender-headcanons

I just like the thought of Present!Cell (any Cell and AU Cell) seriously making out with someone, and then realizing afterward he’s been knocked up.

Though the process also involves his ki having a strange reaction. With sexual reproduction concentrated in his mouth and chest, and when sexual stimulation and sexual action are focused there, Cell’s aroused, and his ki instinctively reacts, behaving differently--his ki essentially harvesting just enough genetic material from the sexual partner to mix with Cell’s, and doing this subtly enough without either party noticing. (This doesn’t happen all the time--like, Cell does not get knocked up each time he seriously makes out with someone. Right now a pattern/trend for when it’s likely happen hasn’t been determined, but there may be one, it may be a response to seasonal climate changes...like, say, he’s more likely to sexually reproduce in spring.)

Cell’s bizarre biology mostly takes the lead in his case, if I can phrase it as such. Like he’ll carry and bear the children, they’ll resemble him more (that’ll get more elaboration later). So, just, if he’s making out with a human or half-human (or another mixed human) or relatively humanoid race, reproduction happens his way; however the sexual partner normally does it, Cell’s way takes over. As in, say, he’s with a man or a woman; with Cell’s sexual reproduction processes concentrated in his mouth and chest area, and the behavior of his ki triggered into like a genetic harvesting form, his biology takes precedence in reproducing children, and does not require further biological interaction with his sexual partner beyond sexually stimulating him and engaging in the sexual act with him.

So, Cell’s knocked up. There is a gestation period within his body, but shorter than a human’s. He doesn’t experience any changes in physical appearance, but does experience an increase in *appetite and mood swings.

*When Bulma realized Present!Cell had been created with the specific need and hunger for human bio-extract, she altered him so that his Saiyan appetite could compensate. (Bulma found Namekian, human, and Frieza race appetite couldn’t compensate as well as the Saiyan appetite, due to the power and energy needed to support his body, and the great Saiyan hunger could meet that demand. Though she also found the Saiyan appetite already played a factor in the originally large appetite for human bio-extract...anyway, she just essentially switched things around on a genetic level, and even connected things that perhaps should’ve connected in the first place. Again, sci fi liberties taken here.) So, while with child, Cell’s Saiyan appetite just grows. (Without Bulma’s alterations...actually his Saiyan appetite would’ve kicked in anyway and he could find sustenance from things other than human bio-extract--but he still would’ve had a hunger for human bio-extract, and that would’ve increased too. Just his appetite increasing enough that it would trigger his Saiyan appetite literally.)

Along with increase in appetite and mood swings, Cell’s ki reacts differently again; his ki fluctuates while with child, going up and down. Cell does experience periods of weakness and illness, even something like morning sickness. (Nothing close to lethal, but draining.) The gestation period is not uniformly pleasant. It is far more strenuous and far less instantaneous than asexually reproducing the Cell Jr.’s. The gestation period requires more energy and time from Cell.

Cell’s ki will significantly shoot up the moment he delivers, ejecting his new mixed race offspring from his expanding stinger. Promptly Cell’s ki will plummet and he will revert to his larval state, due to the large amount of energy that had been needed for final delivery. He reverts to his most advanced larval state--that is, the larval state that is large enough for his next transformation to Imperfect form. But, that will happen later, for now, he’ll need more time to recover.

Cell will have enough energy to tend to his offspring--twin bio-androids in their larval state, but far smaller than him, and not green--one’s colored blue (firstborn), the other purple (secondborn).

What follows is perhaps more animal-like behavior, larval Cell cleaning them off with his own mouth and drawing them close, to warm them. Bulma is there to lend a hand, tending to the three of them and giving the new twins a customized formula to drink and generally help clean them off and wrap them in blankets, and give Cell a break and time to rest.

It’s not long before larval Cell can change back into his Imperfect form. His twins are at first freaked out by the whole process, and stick close to his discarded skin and eye his Imperfect body fearfully, confused and not immediately realizing it’s still their father. This doesn’t last long either, as they realize this is still their father. Cell can also now transform back to his Perfect form, his power has recovered relatively quickly and he feels back to normal, how he was before the gestation period...but he tests this privately and then stays in his Imperfect form longer. It’s his base form anyway, and though the twins had gotten over their fear when he’d first transformed, maybe best not to transform anymore in front of them until they were older.

Present!Cell and Gohan are friends in this AU. (That will be its own post someday.) Frustrated with his own ideas for names, and not caring for what the others have said (Bulma and their circle), he finally goes to Gohan for his opinion. Gohan--gleefully--suggests Mito and Chondria; Cell just goes “F*ck it, fine,” but names the younger twin Mito and the older twin Chondria. (And will never tell Gohan or another living soul that he had thought of Mito and Chondria before, and instinctively did like it, but then talked himself out of it; and now he just chalks it up to Gohan’s stupid genes making him think of those names in the first place.)

Present!Cell’s first instinct is to refer to his twins as “she/her/daughters.” He doesn’t know if that already trained them to respond to that first, before it occurred to him to try testing out which pronouns they responded to better. Until further notice, they’re “she/her/daughters” to him unless they decide differently. (This instinct is partially influenced by Present!Cell’s deep attachment to and respect for his adoptive mother-figure, Bulma. To be honest, he was this close to naming one of the twins Phyla in honor of her.)

The twins remain in their larval forms, growing to about a toddler’s size around four years of age, until they shed their own skins and resemble more humanoid half-saiyan toddlers: small children with alabaster white skin, wide pink eyes, purple markings on their cheeks, dark wild hair (due to Saiyan/human DNA), and spotted reptilian tails with stingers like their father, but still different colors--blue tail, purple tail.

By this point, Cell has fallen into the habit of calling Chondria just “Connie” sometimes. He’ll still call her by her full name. He definitely uses it when he’s cross with her.

Mito got jealous of this once. Cell’s response was that her name was already succinct and short enough, like his. They even had the exact same amount of letters. He did teasingly try “Mitty” with her, and was amused when she responded with immediate disgust to that nickname and a quick “nevermind.”

Though wondering if they would physically age faster like their father or even Piccolo, Chondria and Mito age at essentially a human’s pace. They largely stay as humanoid creatures with strange colors and strange tails and wild dark hair, maturing in that form. They do find that they can change form, into bodies with armor that more resemble their father (and when smaller, can resemble the Cell Jr’s more); they can revert back to their larval forms like him. When full grown, Chondria and Mito are as tall as Cell.

Mito and Chondria’s voices sound traditionally feminine by human/saiyan standards, and their unarmored bodies resemble a traditionally female body by those same standards. They continue to identify as “she/her.”

The twins do literally look identical; only differences are the colors of their tails (and armor when transformed in their other forms; the colors of their larval states). Other differences have to be made, i.e. different haircuts.

(I multi-ship, but have grown to enjoy these Cell’s-twin-mixed-race-bioandroid-daughters OCs quite a bit; so anyone I ship Cell with and imagine hypothetical kids for, Chondria and Mito will remain his first mixed-race kids, they stay with their dad.)

...So that went from sexual reproduction headcanons to OC-fan-kids talk, ah ha. XD I do like Chondria and Mito a lot though, may do more headcanon posts about them and Cell another time.

#headcanons #artificialanomaly #verse: adopted #any AU #Sinday #kinda #adoptedverse

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yogaadvise · 6 years

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The Surprising Upside to Negative Thinking

It's an age-old concern: Do you see the glass as half-full or half-empty? Typically, those that call it half-full are stated to be optimists, positive individuals that smile easily and also locate the great in most circumstances. Those who view the glass as half-empty are considered pessimists, Adverse Nellies who put on a frown on their face. Maybe that frown doesn't require dealing with. Half-fullers aren't as delighted as we believe, plus they could be a little thirsty.

For decades, we have actually been informed the antidote to cynicism is enthusiastic reasoning. Smiling will certainly make you feel much better. Believing with confidence makes great things take place. Positive reasoning or doing points making us really feel happier could have begun with Victorian theorist William James' As If theory, that our activities, as opposed to our thinking, influence exactly how we feel. One of the core ideas is that compeling a smile enhances joy, or at least makes you feel a lot more favorable, whereas lots of people see this in the reverse, I rejoice, so I'll smile.

Not necessarily.

Positive psychology doesn't help everyone, especially those that are a bit downhearted, state scientists and also professionals. Actually, some unusual behavioral tweaks, and also developing anxiety-inducing situations, could in fact enhance your outlook.

' Informing on your own everything is excellent while attempting to push out unconstructive ideas or concepts paradoxically makes you believe regarding those unfavorable traits even much more,' claims Julie Norem, Ph.D., a psychologist and also teacher at Wellesley College, and also writer of The Favorable Power of Adverse Thinking. 'It's called ironic processing and also for a whole lot of us, the a lot more you attempt not to consider something, the a lot more you do.'

Another mistaken belief: Favorable reasoning doesn't enable us to be as prepared or to have a back-up strategy, whereas preparing for the even worse case circumstance does.

' Focusing just on the silver lining leads to handling that can gloss over important information. If you focus just on a specific end result, claim getting employed for a job, you're not thinking of ways to arrive,' adds Norem, using examples like researching the business, or thinking regarding what type of concerns you might ask, or just what your following option ought to be if you do not get the task. She likewise warns that also much positive reasoning could make you feel as though you're just making believe, as well as that also, will certainly trigger you to fail. To avoid that from taking place, below are 4 shocking suggestions to maintain a realistically intense, if not sunny, outlook as opposed to just fashioning a set of rose-colored glasses.

Try something scary. It was Eleanor Roosevelt that provided the handy quote, 'Do one trait every day that frightens you.' It appears the 32nd First Woman understood what British author Oliver Burkeman established out to discover-trying something that gives you anxiousness offers a positive result instead than a negative one. In his current book, The Antidote: Happiness for Individuals Who Can't Stand Positive Thinking, Burkeman hopped on a train as well as before coming to each quit, yelled out the stop's name. 'It was humiliating as well as caused me a high degree of anxiousness,' Burkeman admits. 'Thinking about doing it ahead of time was scary as well as excruciating. In reality it's kind of reasonable as you're not doing anything prohibited. It's rather safe. It could also be handy to somebody else.'

The initial suggestion can be associateded with psychologist Albert Ellis, Ph.D., that uncovered that there were unusual benefits discovered within adverse experiences. Ellis' discovery was based on ancient approaches from Calm teachings, among the four major colleges of approach in ancient Athens, together with Plato's Academy, Aristotle's Lyceum, and also Epicurus' Garden. This institution of idea was among the first to suggest that happiness may be gotten from negativity. Stoicism techniques as well as focuses on the advancement of self-discipline as well as strength as a method of overcoming harmful feelings and habits. The goal of Stoicism is to achieve inner tranquility by getting rid of difficulty, exercising self-control, recognizing one's impulses. This idea emphasized the essential importance of factor. 'Unfavorable experiences become part of life,' Burkeman states. 'The encounter wasn't positive, but I allowed it as well as that triggered the anxiousness to dissipate.'

Facing your worries can likewise bring assurance, which the majority of people relate with happiness. Aiming to include your stress and anxiety and recognizing you can withstand it offers you a lot more control. 'Facing discomfort rather compared to preventing it opens your series of options, connections, goals and job chances,' Burkeman states. 'It enhances our life as opposed to decreasing it.' Try adhering to in Burkeman's footprints. Every week, attempt one point that frightens you. 'You can educate your mind to expend your comfort area,' he claims. 'If you're not pushing on your own, you're not growing in a favorable way. The bigger your comfort zone, the better possibility you have of getting a more satisfying life.'

Downsize your positivity. Experiencing love is without a doubt wonderful, however according to happiness researcher Sonja Lyubomirsky, Ph.D., a professor of psychology at the University of The golden state, the feeling could be disruptive and also stop you from focusing. 'Individuals who are too delighted, smile as well a lot, or are as well positive could create some social repercussions, including pushing away others who may locate them irritating as well as distracting, as well as hence reject them,' claims Lyubomirsky, writer of The Myths of Happiness: Exactly what Should Make You Happy, Yet Does not, Exactly what Shouldn't Make You Delighted, But Does. Occasionally affirmations like 'I'm wise' or 'I'm appealing' don't work since you're attempting as well hard, she clarifies. 'Checking your happiness could have the same backfiring result. Like tipping on the range a number of times a day ... Your weight, your happiness as well as your mood fluctuate.'

What should you do? Find exactly what Lyubomirsky calls your optimal approach degree: An individual point or condition that concentrates on just how frequently you do something that will certainly have a positive end result. In a research study she carried out, she located people that experienced appreciation when a week felt much better than people that attempted to be grateful 3 or even more times a week. 'If you aim to be grateful as well frequently it may come to be a task or you could run out of things to be grateful for which could make you really feel worse,' she states. 'If you're attempting to declare excessive, and it really feels phony or makes you really feel worse, it's not the ideal dose for you.'

Reside in realism. ' Individuals should be realistic,' states epic basketball instructor Bob Knight, writer of The Power of Negative Thinking. 'There are no genies in containers. Troubles exist. You can not walk around acting that they do not. You cannot leave them approximately chance or expect the finest. Traits will not improve by themselves.' Knight likes to search for the feasible downsides in any scenario, as it's a helpful means to cause constructive results.

' Insecurity could have intangible advantages. Evaluating your blunders is what makes you better,' he shares. 'Having the ability to self-analyze and also be self-critical is extremely important. Understanding your shortcomings takes awareness. Unfavorable thinking could produce far better results when you identify and after that admit that something isn't functioning.' By identifying, dealing with, understanding, as well as eliminating the challenges you can start to fix your scenario or problem. Look for responses or various other means to do something that will provide a much better outcome.

Another Knight-ism? Be prepared, it defeats fixing. 'Simply because you claim it's not going to rain does not indicate it will not. Bring the raincoat,' he insists. 'This way, if it does, you're covered.' He's likewise a big believer of the if...then. If you try this and also that does not function, then go to plan B. If that doesn't work, then go to plan C. Other insight? 'Ask for aid. Ask Questions. As well as constantly fret,' he adds. 'If you can't assume of a thing to be bothered with, fret regarding being overconfident.'

Listen to downer music. Listening to nightclub at the workplace or Top 40 songs while functioning on a project in the house seem like it would certainly offer a favorable encounter instead of obstruct your capability to absorb info. Shockingly, joyful music has the other effect.

' Hearing a depressing tune instead compared to a pleased one can make you more effective, more focused, and also allows you to pay closer focus to information,' Norem claims. 'Studies have actually found that ariose music and lyrics could boost our capability to focus and also refine information better compared to something enjoyable.' Norem recommends selecting a slow pace with small tricks as opposed to significant tricks coupled with a quick tempo. Think Russian dirge versus Lady Gaga. Verses that are depressing as well as hefty can provide the exact same outcome.

' Specific state of minds are connected with various type of processing,' she states. 'When we're in an unfavorable personality, we're more most likely to acknowledge that something isn't really. Because we're more alert concerning just what's triggering the problem, we're more probable to capture a blunder.' The other happens when we're in a positive place. Feeling like everything is fine, we overlook when something isn't. This can be traced back to the idea of schematic processing, the method which we arrange patterns of ideas or habits. For the favorable individual, it could additionally connect to a psychological framework of preconceived notions. 'Operating in a favorable frame of mind, a person is more probable to refine details inaccurately, miss information, or fill in details that fit with exactly what one may remember falsely,' Norem says, recommending not proofing job if you remain in a great state of mind. 'Rather, that's when you must brainstorm for the next concept.'

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mukyoucom · 7 years

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God of War: How Santa Monica Studio Defined the Game’s Norse Direction

From Playstation Blog USA

As we journey towards early 2018, we want to bring you behind-the-curtain of God of War’s development with stories you may not hear anywhere else. This is a new beginning, and a deeply personal quest for the franchise and Santa Monica Studio. We’re very excited to bring you into the heart and soul of our process. Follow us @SonySantaMonica to always stay informed.

A freezing blizzard roars while shadows of wolves can be seen in the distance. A seemingly mysterious mountain looms in the distance while a broken, gigantic statue sits in the middle of a quiet lake guarded by a large creature lingering beneath. These embers of our new Norse universe describe the rich, visual areas Kratos and Atreus will experience in God of War. How was the visual look and feel of our take on Norse mythology defined? It all centers around one defining piece of concept art from acclaimed artist, Jose Peña.

The Visual Foundation

Jose worked as a concept artist here at our studio at the outset of the new vision for God of War. Excited and wide-eyed at the opportunity, he and our Creative Director, Cory Barlog, immediately connected on the new direction, but leaving quite a bit to Jose’s imagination initially.. Unbeknownst to Jose was the immense challenge that would be set before him: create an original defining piece of artwork to set the visual tone of the new direction for God of War. Cory remembered clearly how their first conversation went, “The inception of this very first concept art was from a one paragraph write-up and a phone call with Jose, talking about the mood and the tone. I think I threw a bunch of stuff at him with buzzwords like more grounded; the fact that his son is not a burden; the fact that Kratos and Atreus are together battling a very hostile world. And he was just smiling at the other end of the Skype call, and because of the new direction, we weren’t able to provide him with exact ideas.”

The call ended, and Jose took a deep breath. He immediately started working and delivered several key concept art pieces to the team within the span of a few weeks. Jose made sure to center his first concept art piece on a familiar but older Kratos and his son, Atreus. Little did Jose know this concept art piece would be one of the most valuable and foundational pieces for the new visual direction of God of War.

Cory remembered how amazed he was when he saw the art piece for the first time. He remarked, “The way Jose was able to capture exactly what we were looking for was astounding. He has a grounding in historical illustrations and a desire to dig deep and understand the most about each individual piece. There was so much humanity on top of the mythology and to capture it the first time out was ridiculous.” There was a consensus amongst our small team at the time, Jose had struck gold. Cory said, “This artwork truly became the beacon and lit the path for us. Everything we did – we referred back to this piece.”

Principal Character Artist, Rafael Grassetti was also there the day Jose’s artwork was shared amongst our studio – he was stunned. “This art piece was definitely what everyone had in mind,” Raf commented. “It was a big inspiration for everyone who joined the project and saw this. Jose was the first one to get what we were doing and what we were making. Even on the final color correction, we kept coming back to what Jose was doing here and integrating every single part of this to try and get it closer to what he did.”

Decoding the Artistic Details

Take a second look at Jose’s concept art: what stands out most to you? There are so many layers of intrigue and detail all over the piece to decode. For our team, one central theme immediate to us was defining the relationship between Kratos and his son. Raf explained his perspective on the importance of seeing these two characters framed in Jose’s art, “The first time you see Kratos and Atreus’ relationship, you get it. This artwork sells the connection. You see many other elements, but it’s not the main focus. This is more of a piece between the father and the son.”

“This artwork truly became the beacon and lit the path for us. Everything we did – we referred back to this piece.”

Cory, nodding his head in agreement, pointed to the significance in the characters’ positioning and stances. “You look at this piece, and you see the idea of Kratos protecting the kid,” he said. “Kratos puts himself in between harm and the son as he wants to take the brunt of the first blows. Atreus needs his father, but he also looks capable. You show the son connecting and holding onto Kratos’ arm, but you also see the kid with his knife out. It’s the idea of this parental yet distant relationship.”

The change in landscape and adversaries also presented unique challenges Kratos and Atreus would have to face. Raf noted this particular theme as, “a fight against Kratos’ enemies and adventures.” He commented, “In the artwork, you see the challenges ahead and the goal up top. Everything you do to have to protect the son is an integral part of this adventure. Jose played with the focus of the image to have us, the viewer, understand everything going on yet still have lingering questions about the world.”

Cory looked intently at the falling snow, feeling enraptured by the visual cues that alluded to a different yet somewhat familiar journey. He commented, “The idea of this unforgiving world and the visual tone with the snow, it just makes you feel cold. And there is this adversity between you and your destination at all times. Yet there is this building of unknown origin guiding you to the top of the mountain. That is the promise of adventure in every God of War game, and it still rings true here, even in this different setting.”

“In the artwork, you see the challenges ahead and the goal up top – everything you do to have to protect the son is an integral part of this adventure.”

Tying all of these elements together was the distinctive visual style that made for a fantastical yet grounded filter. Even though this new land may be full of strange, incredible creatures, Jose made the world feel tangible. Cory again reflected on his adoration for the style and its implementation in Jose’s concept art. He stated, “This visual style borrowed from that pre-digital era where everything was optical, like all of those awesome fantasy 80’s movies. They all had this sort of classic, storybook vibe without the super crazy over-saturated colors. There is an element of this storybook fantasy quality in the concept art that you don’t often see in video game visuals.”

From Past to Present

As Cory now looks at Jose’s artwork months and months later, he reflected on the original inspirational art piece of God of War 1 (pictured below). Here, a very early version of Kratos looks out into the desert landscape. Cory contemplated the differences yet also surprising similarities between the two games. He said, “Looking back on God of War 1’s original concept art piece and our current God of War concept art piece, there are these fantastic creative similarities that I think our studio inadvertently shot for but at two different angles.” Cory pointed to the first God of War concept art piece and commented, “Initially, our team wanted this very real and mature take on Greek mythology. But even in that original image, you can see a fantastic destination; a chasm seemingly uncrossable that is preventing you from getting there; and the hostile, iridescent environment against you. And then this warrior looking off into the distance.”

At the same time, Cory noted the key differences between the two art pieces: a maturation of not only the series but Kratos himself. Cory said, “Although the hero’s journey is present in both of the images, I do think there is a sense of growth when you put those images side by side. You see Kratos starting in his youth in the God of War 1 art piece, and in this current concept art, he is now moving towards his middle-aged self – the idea of Kratos taking on this responsibility of parenthood in a different way. He was perhaps too young and impulsive in his early years, which made him make bad decisions, so you see this change and transition in Jose’s art.”

The Journey From Art to Game

A fascinating aspect about game development is the evolution from concept art to gameplay… For instance, Kratos and Atreus’ clothing have been reworked multiple times before final. Raf commented, “The costuming was awesome to see in Jose’s concept art and that they lived in this universe, but when you put that in the actual game, it’s actually hard to see because of the high-paced combat in the game. We wanted to make sure we stay inspired from the piece in terms of the clothing. It was one of the biggest initial challenges we had after seeing the piece and translating the artwork to gameplay.”

Cory pointed out another challenge – Atreus’ hair. In Jose’s art piece, Atreus’ hair is grey, which constantly fluctuated throughout the production. Cory joked about some of the different iterations they played around with since then, “At one point, we went from the grey hair to an interesting render of Atreus having no hair at all. And I was like, ‘Oh, I kind of like that. Very interesting.’ But I think people thought Atreus suddenly looked like Mini-Kratos and was too ridiculous.” These drastic changes to Atreus’ hair, however, were quickly finalized by Jose with the ‘haircut’ into what we see today.

Other aspects of the artwork evolved from the original piece, such as Atreus’ arm tattoos. Although he did not have his bow and arrows just yet, the first signs of his tattoos were shown here, and as Cory described it, “actually allows the kid to have steady aim with his future bow.” Also, Kratos’ base axe model was born from Jose’s concept art. Cory remarked, “Our approach to keep things simple at first allowed us to really hone in on what feels really cool. With the axe, for instance, we started with the straight handle before later adding a curve onto it.”

“Kratos is now moving towards his middle-aged self: the idea of taking on this responsibility of parenthood in a different way.”

The enemies that made it into the final game were heavily inspired by Jose’s concept art as well. Raf created the Draugrs specifically for the first E3 2016 trailer and remembered how much the original artwork helped with those designs. He reminisced, “We did a lot of work on those guys, and when we finished, we went back to this particular piece and thought, how do we make it look more like this? How do we capture of what’s happening here?”

A Journey Like No Other

For Cory, Jose’s concept art reinforced a consistent theme: always strive to make quality work with some of the best creatives in the industry – a thread that has run through all of the God of War games. “If you look back towards the inception of Santa Monica Studio,” Cory said, “we have always been fortunate to have the right people at the right time, like the concept artists that have come through the studio. Each of them have made an impact on this franchise. Their styles were perfectly meshed with where we needed to be and where we needed to go at that time. We’ve had that kind of evolution throughout simply because people were constantly able to look at things a little differently.”

Cory added his sentiments about the entire studio and the leaders he has been fortunate enough to work with. He commented, “All of these guys have had such a tremendous amount of impact on the lens that we see his world through. You really can’t make anything today of this scale without having visionaries like that. So for me, the best part of this whole project is that we’ve been lucky and fortunate enough to find the right people – to find the ‘needle in the haystack’ so to speak.”

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The post God of War: How Santa Monica Studio Defined the Game’s Norse Direction appeared first on Ship 2 Block 20.

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