#nine getting sad when i called him “buster

[killersnarl]

// BIG ANNOUNCEMENT !! :o

i am pleased to announce the nine bot made by @c0dykun !!!! (everyone go thank them cause this is super cool for you guys)

you can go play with it here !

(keep in mind it’s a bot so it’s not always going to be accurate and sometimes you’ll have to swipe through responses until you get a good one, but the more you talk and give it feedback it should get better ! it’s just to have fun and be silly ! the website can be pretty slow sometimes so be prepared lol.)

feel free to send me any funny interactions you get and i’ll tag it under bot shenanigans for everyone’s viewing pleasure

(by the way: i’m still working on something else big 😁)

#carnalposting #bot shenanigans #i’ve been playing with this and my fav interactions have been: #nine threatening landlords #nine saying american psycho is his favorite movie #nine putting on hammer smashed face by cannibal corpse in the car #nine bot being a smoker (???) #nine not knowing he’s from new jersey #nine getting sad when i called him “buster #nine being a queens of the stone age and smashing pumpkins enjoyer #AND MANY MORE

[justbusterkeaton]

Picture-Play Magazine, July 1921. By Emma-Lindsay Squier

HE REALLY CAN SMILE

And strangely enough it was in the hospital that “Buster” Keaton first proved it. There’s a good reason for his smiling, and her name is Natalie Talmadge, soon to be Natalie Keaton.

“Well, Mr. Keaton,” I said kindly, “I’m sorry to have to interview you here.”

“Well, Miss Squier,” said Mr. Keaton just as kindly, “I’m sorry to have you.”

That made it unanimous. I, the interviewer, was standing at the foot of a bed. Buster Keaton, the interviewee, was in the bed. The bed was in a hospital. So was Buster.

All around the white walls of the perfectly antiseptic room various sign cards were posted, all typically Keatonesque. Having one’s ligaments wrenched out of place doesn’t deaden one’s sense of humor–if one happens to be a screen comedian.

“Standing Room Only.” One of them read. Other masterpieces were: “We Close Saturdays at One O’Clock.” “No Shooting Allowed on These Premises. “Not Responsible For lost Valuables.” “Furnished Room For Rent.”

One effusion was hand printed, and was the result of Buster’s bump of poetry–which, however, is not the bump that put him in the hospital.

“Hi diddle diddle,

The cat and the fiddle,

The cow jumped over the moon.

If an old cow can do it

I thought I’d improve it–

I’ll be out of the hospital soon!”

Strangely enough, Buster Keaton was smiling. And that’s more than you’ve seen Buster do, even if you’ve watched him through his sixteen years on the stage, and his subsequent three or four years on the screen. They call him the “melancholy comedian” in pictures, because his sadness never lifts. Kicked or kissed, it is all the same to him. His expression of gentle gloom doesn’t change. They tell me that when he was in the army no one ever saw him smile–but then, the army is no laughing matter at best.

As I said before, he was smiling, though his leg was in a cast, and his face was a trifle wan. His sense of humor seems to be always on the alert. His mother sat besides the bed. She was smiling, too. The joke was a page from a Muskegon, Michigan, paper. It contained an ad for one of Buster’s comedies, and it read “Muskegon’s Own! Buster Keaton! His latest picture to-night, straight from the Capitol Theater, New York!”

“‘Muskegon’s Own!'” repeated Buster. “Sounds like a bottle of catsup.”

“Where you born there?” I asked.

Buster and his mother grinned at each other. She looks young enough to be his sister, and you can see that they are great pals.

“No, but I lived there between seasons on the road and went to school–oh it’s the old home town, all right–I get an awful kick out of that ad. When I come back from the East after getting married, I’m going to stop off and see all the gang. Maybe get up a little impromptu act for one of the theaters.

“The reason I smiled when you asked about my birthplace,” he went on, “was because the place where I was born isn’t there any more. It was in Kansas, and shortly after I arrived, there was a cyclone that demolished the place. They never did build it up.”

We talked some more about the prospect of returning to Muskegon.

“I will probably have the same experience that Will Rogers did,” he said. “He went back to his home town–somewhere in Wyoming I think it was–and met one of his old cow-puncher friends on the street.

“‘Is that you, Will Rogers?’ the old friend said. Will owned up that it was.

“‘Well,’ said the other wonderingly, ‘where have you been all these years?'”

I asked Buster when he and Natalie Talmadge were going to be married.

“I don’t just exactly know,” he smiled, showing a long dimple in his cheek that you’d never guess was there. “That’s up to my better nine-tenths–meaning Natalie–and, of course, the condition of my leg has something to do with it. I’ve been in bed now for five weeks, and the doctors think that I’m in for three more. Then I’ll have to dash around on crutches for a while–and after that–New York!”

He sighed ecstatically. What he really meant, was, “Natalie!”

I was curious to know the details of his accident–the first one he has ever had–but he was reticent. On a revolving stairway the mechanism had gone wrong, he leg was caught–that was all. His mother regarded him with pride.

“He has never hurt himself in a fall–and he has been doing acrobatic tumbling ever since he was a small child.”

I wanted to know if the falls he takes weren’t rather painful.

“They don’t hurt,” he replied. “Great Scott, if they did, they’d kill me off. It’s all in knowing how to take the fall. It isn’t nearly as difficult as it looks.”

He picked up his ukelele from the foot of the bed. He strummed a few chords softly and hummed a tune. I had heard somewhere that Buster turns out clever parodies of popular songs. I asked for one.

He smiled, a ran a chromatic scale on the E string. When Buster handles a ukelele it does everything but speak in Scandinavian.

“Here’s one,” he said, and commenced:

“A good girl is hard to fined,

You always get the other kind,

Just when you think you’ve got a regular pal

Lew Cody drives up in his Marmon,

And it’s good-by, gal!

And then you swear,

You tear your hair,

But it don’t get you anywhere,

So don’t go near Alex,

Take this little tip,

Stay away from Vernon,

Don’t take her to the Ship,

For a good girl nowadays is hard to find!”

There were other parodies, too, “Rose of Universal Square,” and a paraphrase of “Here We Are Together Again,” that commenced, “Here I am, together again, together again, together again,

They have called me the little iron man,

But there are some things that iron won’t stand–“

On the set, they tell me, Buster is the “life of the party.” He is never at a loss for an original song.

“Why don’t you ever smile in your comedies,” I asked, when the concert was over.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, “it’s just my way of working, I guess. I have found–especially on the stage–that when I finish a stunt, I can get a laugh just by standing still and looking at the audience as if I was surprised and slightly hurt to think that they would laugh at me. It always brings a bigger laugh. Fatty Arbuckle gets his humor differently. The people laugh with him. They laugh at me.”

Buster Keaton commenced his theatrical career when he was just a toddler. He toured the county many times with his mother and father. They were billed as “The Three Keatons,” and later he travelled by himself. He played in Roscoe Arbuckle’s company for three years, and is now making his own comedies under the Metro banner. “Convict No. 13,” “Seven Days,” and “Hard Luck” are some of the comedies in which he has starred.

A screen comedian, he says, has little future. About four years is as long as any one can hope to keep on thinking up new ideas to make people laugh.

“I made eight comedies in the last year. I intend to make that many next year. And each one has almost a hundred ‘gags’ in it–just figure that out and see what happens to your imagination at the end of three years. That’s why practically all comedians go sooner or later into five-reel stories with a comedy angle. It’s easier to let some one else worry about the laughs. I string all my stuff together–no, not alone, because every one in the company helps. But I mean that I’ve never yet bought a scenario, and I’ve had thousands of them offered me. I can’t find funny scenarios. If I could, I’d play a wonderful price for them.”

The nurse “ahemed!” politely. I took it that the visiting hour was over.

“Come and see me at the studio in New York,” he invited. “Or, better still, stop off in Muskegon, Michigan, on your way East. The folks there are mighty nice to strangers and–”

But I don’t think I will. If Buster was there, what chance would I have? None, with “Muskegon’s Own” taking up all the attention.

Picture-Play Magazine, July 1921.

#buster keaton #picture play magazine #silent movies #comedy #1920s #silent film #silent comedy #1920s cinema

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Nine

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut! Get your tissues for all the feels! 

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength. This is 8900k.

Masterpost

Your bachelorette party was at a nice Air BnB up north. You wanted a simple, secluded weekend with your friends. It was just you, Rachel, and Sarah.

“Okay, so what are you most excited for, like, to be married?” Sarah asks. You were all sitting on a floor of blankets and pillows.

“To be able to call him my husband. Like he’s been my partner in life for almost three years now, but once it’s legal, no one can dispute it.”

“How soon after you get married do you think you’ll start trying for a baby?” Rachel asks. It was the question a lot of people had been asking you.

“Literally, the honeymoon.” You chuckle. “I swear he’s been counting down the days to not have to use condoms anymore.” You roll your eyes. “He acts like he still hasn’t stuck it in without one. I know it’s not as often, but still.”

“You know how guys are.” Sarah says. “They wanna feel every bit of it. You must be excited for the honeymoon though. Disney plus going to a little beach house?”

“I’m beyond ready!” You squeal. “I haven’t been to Disney World since I was like four.”

“We went on a family trip when I was in high school.” Rachel says. “It was so much fun. The food is like the best part, I swear. And the dole whips??? Holy shit.”

“I know! Harry and I have been watching a ton of videos on YouTube to prepare. We’re staying at the Port Orleans resort, we had seen that less kids stay there so it’s a little quieter. We watched a video of someone walking through the resort, it was so cool. We get to choose our fast passes soon, and all of our dinners have been reserved. It’s really cool.”

“Are you getting those bracelets?” Sarah asks.

“The arm band things? Yeah, they’re gonna come in the mail soon I think. Harry got a pink one, and mine’s blue.” You giggle.

“What do you think the beach house portion of your honeymoon is going to be like?” Rach asks.

“I have a feeling we won’t be leaving the bedroom much there. I truly think his main goal is to get me pregnant.”

“And he won’t try to do that in Disney?” Sarah asks.

“He might…think of Disney as like foreplay. It’s going to be really romantic and fun while we’re there, but he’s really going to give it to me at the beach house.”

“Do you think you guys like won’t have sex before the wedding just to build it up?”

“We may not have a choice. I was looking at my period tracker, and I’m supposed to get it like legit a week before the wedding. I know he doesn’t care, but I do. Besides, he mum and sister are going to be staying with us, so that’s a cockblock right there. We’re going to be busy running around getting last minute things together. We won’t have time for it.”

“That’s the biggest load of garbage I’ve ever heard of!” Sarah laughs. “The two of you have been like rabbits since you met. Niall and I have sex like once a week, maybe even every ten days. I feel like you and Harry fuck every night.”

“We do not! Maybe like twice a week.”

“If you’re not fucking you’re doing something else.”

“Is that a bad thing? Why do you and Niall only do it once a week?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Just sort of how things fell into place. I’m not complaining, that’s plenty of sex for me. Although, if it were up to him we’d probably do it every night. I’m just not always in the mood, you know?”

“Me either.” Rachel says. “Like, sometimes when I go to bed, that’s all I wanna do. I’m not looking for any funny business.”

“I think that just happens when you live with someone for a while.” You say. “Before Harry and I lived together-“

“Don’t even start. You two were living together before you were even living together.” Sarah giggles.

“All I was going to say was that when you don’t live with someone you probably can’t wait to jump their bones because you haven’t seen them in a while. Once you do live with someone and the option’s always there it probably gets less exciting. I love having sex with Harry, but I’m not always in the mood, and neither is he. We’re both happy to just cuddle.”

“Yeah, but you two are one of those touchy couples that likes cuddling all the time. Sometimes if I’m on the couch just chilling, like, I may not even want to be touched.” Sarah explains.

“I think we can all just agree that we are all in very different relationships and that’s okay.” Rachel says. “We’re all happy, right?” You and Sarah agree. “Alright then.” She shrugs. “Nothing more to it than that. I’m glad you ended up with a guy that likes to kiss and touch you in public, Y/N. Everyone around you can feel the love.”

“Y/N…I don’t wanna be a Debbie Downer, but remember how much trouble Kate had when she thought her and Kev were gonna get pregnant right away?” Saray says.

“I know…” You sigh. “I’ve thought about that. I mean, it could easily not happen on our honeymoon, and I think that’s okay. If anything, it’ll just be the start of things, you know? It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen.”

//

While you were having a peaceful weekend away with your friends, Harry had taken a little road trip to Mohegan Sun to do some gambling with Niall and Louis, yes, Louis flew in for the bachelor party. Harry had other friends he knew would have fun, but he also just wanted to do something sort of small with his friends.

The three of them enjoyed the bit of gambling they got to do, and the outrageous amount of alcohol they got to consume. Harry hadn’t drank much since you started your pills those couple of years ago, so he took full advantage of not having to worry about you.

The three went to some nightclub in the area to cut loose a bit. Harry usually didn’t like dancing like this if you weren’t there, but he was so beyond gone he didn’t really care. He was having a good time with his friends.

A group of girls had noticed them and kept coming closer and closer until they finally bumped into them.

“Do you guys wanna dance?” One of them says.

“Married.” Niall points to Louis. “Engaged.” He points to Harry. “In a fully committed relationship.” He points to himself.

“Sorry ladies, this is actually his bachelor party.” Louis tells the girls who were all frowning.

“S’not like he’s wearing a ring yet, right?” One of the girls says a little too cheekily for Harry’s liking.

“Right.” He scoffs. “As if I’d cheat on my fiancé with any of you.” He looks them all up and down. “Find some other idiots to pester, we’re here to have fun.”

He walks away from the group and goes towards the bar to grab some water. Louis and Niall follow him.

“Yeh could’ve sad that a bit nicer mate, they’re probably just drunk.” Louis says to him.

“I don’t care. I’m twenty-eight years old, do these girls think it would be so fucking easy to get into my pants?” He rolls his eyes. “M’too old for that shit.”

“What did you think was gonna happen when you wanted to come to a club?” Niall laughs. “We’re pretty good lookin’, in case yeh forgot.” He jokes.

“M’just sayin’, it’s annoying.” He sighs. “Do you think they’re all havin’ fun on their trip? Maybe I should call her, make sure they’re alright all alone.” Harry takes his phone out of his pocket, but Louis snatches it.

“She wouldn’t even be able to hear you in here, I’m sure they’re fine.”

“But I miss her.” He pouts. “Give me my phone!”

“You’re supposed to miss her.” Louis laughs. “You’ll see her tomorrow night.”

“Don’t care, gimme my phone.” He snatches it back and walks towards the men’s room where he knew it would be quiet. The boys follow him. He taps his phone to FaceTime you.

//

“What the…Harry’s FaceTiming me.” You show the girls.

“Answer it! It’s super late, I bet he’s drunk.” Rachel giggles.

You shrug and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey! There’s my pretty girl.” He beams. There’s a slight slur to his words. You can faintly see Niall and Louis in the background.

“Are you in a bathroom?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

“So it wouldn’t be too loud to talk to yeh.”

“Where are you?”

“At some club near the casino. Some girls tried to pick us up, but don’t worry baby, we got rid of ‘em. I wouldn’t let anything happen.” You look at your friends who were trying really hard not to laugh.

“Just play along.” Sarah whispers. You look back at Harry.

“Oh good, I didn’t think you would, Harry.”

“I mean really, the nerve.” He scoffs. “You know what she said to me?”

“What did she say?”

“She said it’s not like I’ve got a ring on yet. Can you believe tha’?”

“Harry, I think your friends are waiting for you.” He looks behind himself and sees Niall and Louis about ready to drag him out of the bathroom.

“But I miss you…”

“I miss you too, but you’ll see me tomorrow night. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“I know, but I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“That’s fuckin’ lie and you know it!” Louis says. “If you don’t hang up that phone, I’m gonna tell your little fiancé about whose bed you’ve been sleepin’ in.”

The girls start laughing, and so do you.

“Seems like you already did.” Harry punches Louis in the arm.

“He’s right Harry, go enjoy the rest of your night.”

“I’d rather enjoy your tight cu-“

“Harry!” You blush. “Please…Niall, take his phone from him!”

“Can do!”

You hear rumbling and then the screen goes dark.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry.” You pinch your nose.

“No, it was cute.” Rachel assures you. “It’s sweet he misses you.”

“He’s certainly your first baby, that’s no mistake of that.” Sarah laughs.

“Between him and Buster, I’m gonna be a pro by the time I have an actual baby.”

//

Having Anne and Gemma in your home was less stressful than you thought it would be. They could watch Buster if you needed to run out and take care of something quickly. The wedding was only a few days away now, and you’d be going down early for the rehearsal dinner.

“So what’s the plan exactly, are you and Harry having separate rooms the night before the wedding, or did you say nuts to that?” Gemma asks you one morning.

“We have separate rooms, and then we have the honeymoon suite the night of. It’s really nice. We got to tour it when we first went to the inn. I have a room with the girls, and I’m pretty sure Harry is staying with Niall.”

“That’s sweet of you all to do that. He’s very excited.” She blinks away a few tears. “I can’t believe my little brother is going to be someone’s husband, it’s wild to think about. You sure you’re okay with havin’ another sister?”

“Aw, Gem.” You give her a little hug. “Lily, my brother’s wife, is the best sister in law, and I get along way better with her than I do my actual sisters. I’m very much looking forward to having another sister in law.”

“Good, it’ll be nice for me to have one too. I cannot wait to see your reaction to all of our suits when you walk down the aisle.”

“You’re wearing one too?”

“Mhm, I wanted to look the part. I’m pretty sure all the girls in Harry’s party opted for the suits, they were too pretty. Not that your bridesmaids dresses aren’t pretty. It was nice to have the option.”

“Suits are way more comfortable anyways.” You shrug. “I’m not offended in the slightest.”

Later that afternoon you make sure everything’s all packed up so you can head down to the inn. Harry drives your car with you, and gives the keys to his own car to Anne and Gemma. He wanted to just have time in the car with you and Buster before you’d be separated for the night.

“Tomorrow at 3PM, can you believe it?” He says to you as he grips your hand a little tighter.

“Was it worth the wait, baby?”

“Do you mean the nearly two years of planning the damn thing, or my entire life? Because either way, yeah, it was worth it.” He gives your knuckles a kiss. “What about you?”

“Same goes for me, either way, worth it.”

“You’re like calmest bride I’ve ever seen.”

“Harry, we’ve had so much of this planned, everything’s in place. Now all we have to do is get through this rehearsal, and the dinner. Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I’m getting mani/pedi’s at the spa with all the girls, then we’re going to have our makeup and hair done. It’s all going to be great.” You look down at his nails peach colored nails. “I see you got yours done this morning.”

“Mhm, and don’t let the color fool you, it may not even match the suit.”

“I didn’t think it would.” You laugh. “It looks nice though. I love when you do the peach color.”

“I know you do.” He grins. “So, how do you think tonight’s gonna go?”

“I feel like I’m already going to tear up watching your mom walk you up to the gazeebo.”

“You better not cry already because then I’ll start crying, and you know how that goes.” You both laugh. “You know you still haven’t told me if you plan to take my name or not. The DJ’s going to announce us Mr. and Mrs. Styles…”

“I don’t know what I wanna do yet. I have time to decide, it’s just a matter of going to town hall to legally change my name. The process is just annoying. I’ll need a new passport, social security card, and then I’ll have to fight with IT at work to get my email, changed… guess in the grand scheme it’s not a big deal.” You sigh. “I also feel like I’m giving up part of my identity…I suppose I could hyphenate, but I’d still have to change everything.” You look at him for a moment. “Would it bother you a lot if I legally didn’t change it? I don’t mind people referring to me as Mrs. Styles, I won’t correct them…”

“I get where you’re comin’ from. I suppose if the shoe was on the other foot I wouldn’t wanna go through all the trouble either.”

“It’s not really anything personal either, I love your name.”

“I understand the identity thing too. It’s a lot to ask of someone. A lot of people don’t change their name nowadays. I guess I was just wondering out of curiosity.”

“Who knows, I may wake up one day be like yeah I wanna change my name.” You shrug. “Our kids will have your name.” You smile.

“God, I can’t wait to start makin’ babies with you.” His hand leans yours and slides over your stomach. “Just wait until I get in there, you’re not gonna know what hit you.”

“Harry, Jesus.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I think I’m just excited we won’t be using condoms for a while.” He chuckles and moves his hand to your thigh. “You’re sure you feel ready for all that?”

“Yeah, definitely. Three years ago I wasn’t ready, but I’m almost twenty-seven, I’m ready. I want everything with you, babe.”

//

Harry was reluctant to leave you at your room with the girls when you got to the inn, but Louis and Niall were able to pry him away. Around 5PM everyone involved in the rehearsal showed up outside. It was odd practicing the very thing you’d be doing for real the next day. Your cantor stood next to Niall and went over what blessings he’d be reciting, and you tell him you’ll be the one stepping on the glass.

Once it’s all done, you all go inside to the restaurant of the inn to eat a nice dinner. Harry’s friends and yours were getting to know each other, which was really nice to see. Your parents were sitting at different tables so things seemed stable at the moment.

Both of your parents make a small toast, as does Anne. Once the dinner is over you realize you and Harry won’t be seeing each other again until tomorrow afternoon. He pulls you aside briefly while people are still mingling.

“Hey.” He says, cupping your cheeks.

“Hi.” You wrap your arms around his waist.

“I feel like a baby for sayin’ this, but I’m gonna miss you tonight.”

“Don’t feel that way, I’m gonna miss you too. Think of how nice it’ll be when we finally see each other tomorrow, though.”

“I know, I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle in your pretty dress.” He presses his forehead to yours. “I think I’m gonna grab some drinks with the guys tonight. Is that alright?”

“Of course! You didn’t get to do the bachelor party stuff with all of them, please, go. Just invite my brother, dad, and brother in law, please.”

“I can do tha’.”

“And don’t FaceTime me when you get too drunk. I don’t need my family hearing you become vulgar with me.” You giggle.

“Oi, I resent that.”

“Y/N!” Sarah calls for you. “It’s time, girly. Say goodnight.” She smiles. You turn to look at Harry again and give him a good kiss.

“Time for what?”

“Oh, I know you didn’t think you’d be the only one having fun tonight. We’re having a party in our room for all the girls. Have fun with the guys.” You kiss him again before walking away.

A few hours later, and Harry was ready to call you, or text you, or something. He wasn’t even that drunk, he just hated the thought of sleeping by himself. Even though he was sharing a room with Niall, he’d still be left to snuggle alone. Buster was staying in your room with you. Louis had made sure to take Harry’s phone the second they got to the bar because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.

“I just wanna text her.”

“Why?” Louis crosses his arms.

“I wanna see if it’s okay to come give her a goodnight kiss when we get back.”

“What if she’s asleep?”

“She’s havin’ a party of her own.” Harry gets frustrated and tries to find someone that’ll help.

He knew Niall wouldn’t be helpful in the same way Louis wasn’t. He finds Seth with Isaac.

“Bingo.” He says to himself and darts over to them. “Seth, can I borrow your phone. Lou won’t give me mine, and it’s an emergency.”

“Um.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Niall says. “He’s trying to call Y/N.”

“Harry, you can’t go one night without talking to her?” Isaac asks, half laughing.

“I think it’s sweet.” Seth says, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call her.” He grins. He finds your contact and taps to call you.

“Give me the phone.”

“Nope, I’ll talk to her…hey Y/N!”

“Hi! Is everything, shhh everyone I’m on the phone, sorry.” You giggle. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh sure, everything’s fine. Harry just had a question.”

“Okay…what is it?” Seth presses the phone to his chest.

“What’s your question?”

“Ask her if I can come give her a goodnight kiss later.” Seth makes a face like he’s about to cry because of how sweet Harry was.

“He wants to know if he can give you a goodnight kiss when we get back.” Seth hears you chatting with everyone in the room.

“I’ll allow it. Just have someone text me when you guys are on your way.”

“Can do.” He hangs up the phone. “You’ve been granted your kiss.”

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t have just asked her.” He rolls his eyes.

“Because yeh would’ve spent the rest of the night babblin’ on.” Niall says. “Now, can we go back to drinkin’?”

Around 11:30PM, everyone decided it would be best not to stay out late, so the guys head back to the inn. It was just you, Rachel, and Sarah in your room now. There was a knock on the door and you all giggle. You tie up your robe, and look through the peep hole to see Harry, Niall, and Louis in the hall. You open the door and slip out.

“If you two wanna wait inside while we say goodnight…” You gesture to the door, Niall and Louis moving to go inside. “You know you can just snuggle with Louis tonight if you miss me.” You laugh.

“No, he’s got a room with his own wife and child, remember?” He scoffs.

“So snuggle with Niall.”

“But I wanna snuggle with you, you’re so cute.” He grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers.

“You can snuggle me all you want tomorrow night.” You whisper.

“I’ll be doin’ a lot more than that.” He grins.

“You came here for a kiss, so let’s kiss.”

He leans down, and you can’t but smile as his nose brushes yours. His lips meet yours and you taste the beer he was surely drinking. His tongue peeks out to swipe across your bottom lip. You open up for him slightly. As he licks into you he pushes you up against the wall next to the door.

“Oop, we better get out there before he carries her off to our room.” Niall kisses Sarah quick before Louis opens the door. The second his does you push Harry off of you. “Alright, enough of that. You got your kiss.”

“You two are kill joys. Why’s it so wrong to be in love?”

“It’s not, mate.” Louis chuckles. “But it’s time to go to sleep. You two have the rest of your lives to love on each other.”

“Night, baby.” Harry pouts.

“Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You wave them off and go back into the room.

“Nice kiss?” Rachel asks.

“A very nice kiss.” You smile and get back on the bed with Buster. “I’m gonna be his wife tomorrow, I can’t believe I got this lucky.” You all giggle and squeal.

//

Somehow you and Harry were both able to get a goodnight’s sleep. You eat a quick breakfast and head down to the spa to meet everyone to get your nails done. Eleanor has a funny look on her face when she comes over to you.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh sure.” She chuckles. She adjusts Eliza May on her hip. “My hubby just got a booty call around 2AM last night.”

“You’re kidding!” You gasp.

“Seems as though his ass was the next best option to yours.” She sits down in the pedicure chair next to yours and cradles her little girl. “Lou’s thirty years old, I swear to god they act like teenagers around each other all the time.”

“It’s sweet though.”

“It is. I suppose it’s nice to see them breaking down toxic masculinity from the inside out.” She laughs.

“Harry’s a very cuddly sleeper, I should have let Buster go with him last night, but we were afraid he’d cry for me.”

“Like father like son.” She jokes. “Where’s the little guy now?”

“My brother picked him up the morning, he’s to stay with them for now.”

“Miss, what color for your toes?”

“Peach, pastel peach, please.”

Once your nails are done you all make your way over to the bridal suite. You were getting anxious. You wished you could just call Harry, even to hear his voice.

“I just need to pee before we get into the hair and makeup.” You say and go into the bathroom. You lock the door and turn the fan on. You call him. He answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, honey.”

“Y’alright?”

“Mhm, just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You’re cute.”

“Can’t wait to see you in a little while.”

“Me too, I miss you. Missed yeh last night.”

“I heard you found a replacement.”

“I couldn’t help it. It was either that or break into your room.”

“You definitely did the right thing.” You giggle. “How’s everything on your end?”

“Pretty chill so far. My sister’s gettin’ her hair together, so is my mum. Think your dad’s more nervous than I am.” He chuckles. “Must be weird givin’ his youngest away.”

“But at least he knows I’ll be in good hands.”

“Oh, at the least.” You both laugh. “Uh, actually, she called me, so fuck off. Sorry, Mitch is givin’ me a tough time. Did you know what I’m clingy?”

“You?!” You fake gasp. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.” You both laugh. “I better go, they probably think I have like diarrhea or something.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Sorry.” You laugh. “But seriously, I better go. I love you, I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too.”

You hang up and go back out to everyone. You sit down in the chair so your mom can start doing your hair.

“Alright, so we’re pulling some of it up, and leaving the rest down, and you want to have bouncy kind of waves on the bottom?”

“Mhm. And remember to leave some pieces out on the top and make them look wavy, like how we practiced.”

“You got it.”

Once your hair was done, Rachel started doing your makeup. You made sure just to wear a zip up sweatshirt so you wouldn’t have to worry about lifting anything over your head when it came time to put your dress on.

You had picked out this beautiful grey for the bridesmaids dresses, and you told the girls as long as it was that color they could pick out whatever dress was most comfortable for them.

“You ready to put your dress on?” Erica asks.

“Yeah, um, Rachel and Sarah were going to help me get into it I think.” You didn’t want to risk your family seeing your nipple piercings.

Nannie comes over with the dress bag, and she unzips it to show you something.

“I had a slight alteration made, I hope you don’t mind.” Inside the dress, where your right breast would sit, was a blue t-shirt material sewed into the shape of a heart. “It was one of Papa’s shirts. I did the same thing for Erica. Now a piece of him will be with you all day.”

“Oh, Nannie.” You hug her and try to cry since your makeup was just done. “Thank you.”

Rachel and Sarah go into the bathroom with you to get you into your dress.

“You both look so pretty.” You say to them. “Great choices.”

“Your sisters looks nice too, and I love the one Eleanor picked out for herself.” Sarah says.

“It’s nice that everyone listened to me for a change.” You laugh.

“Alright, step into it.” Rachel says.

You step into the dress and put your arms through holes. The girls help button up the back. Rachel grabs your veil and puts it on you. They both step back to look at you.

“Holy shit.” Rachel says. “You’re a bride.”

“You look so beautiful, Harry’s going to lose his mind.”

“Really?” You turn around to look at yourself in the mirror. “Oh my god.” You whisper. “This really was the perfect dress, huh?” You giggle with them and leave the bathroom.

Everyone tells you how beautiful you look. Next up was for you to take all of the bridal photos. You wanted to get a good chunk of this done before the weddings so that the pictures afterwards wouldn’t take too long. Harry and the groomsmen should have already taken their pictures together, and he should have pictures with his mum and sister.

It was a beautiful day out, thank God. Mariah gasped when she saw all of you walk out. Rachel blew her a little kiss. You had a small bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath in your hands. She snapped a ton of pictures of you, the wedding party, you with your sisters, you with your mom, and you with Nannie, basically every combination of photo. It took over an hour.

“Okay, now we just need to go back in and wait.” You tell them. You take a deep breath as you walk back to the bridal suite. You just wanted to see Harry.

Guests were starting to arrive. Family, friends, you name it. Harry had invited a ton of his past clients that he was close with. Some of the ladies from work came as well. You were all waiting in a hall way. Niall was first to go out, and he wanted to see you beforehand.

“Hey.” You beam at him.

“Oh my god, you look stunning.”

“So do you.” You look his suit up and down. It was a solid baby blue. He had a floral pocket square. “It’s simple, I like it.”

“Just you wait until you see everyone else’s. We did something really cool.” He winks at you and makes his way down the aisle to the gazeebo.

He stands with your cantor just as they did during the rehearsal. Music starts to play. You smile at your brother who is about to walk your Nannie and mother down the aisle. You see all of the groomsmen walking towards you, lead my Louis, to line up with your bridesmaids. They each had a solid colored suit on, but each color was different. You were thoroughly confused, but you loved the concept. You wondered if each color was inside the suit Harry would be wearing.

“You all look wonderful.” You whisper as they line up. You look up at your dad and smile. “Almost our turn.”

Louis and Rachel walk out first, hooking their arms together. Then was Gemma and Sarah, Isaac and Eleanor, Mitch and Erica, and Sarah and Bridget. It all worked out perfectly. As they were making their way down, you see Lily walking up with Michael.

“He’s very excited.” She had Buster’s leash in her other hand. “I’m honored that I get to walk the dog.” She giggles.

“Thanks for doing it. Michael, you’re going to be the best flower boy ever.”

While all of this is happening, Anne walks up to the gazeebo with Harry. They hug and kiss before she goes to sit down. His suit was gorgeous. It was an interesting floral pattern, and it did have all of the colors each groomsmen was wearing. Lily walks Buster down the aisle as Michael walks down putting out flower petals. It was really very cute. Harry bends down and takes the rings from Buster’s collar, and hands them to Niall. He takes a deep breath. He knew Mariah and all of her helpers were getting great pictures, and every moment the two of you wanted would be captured. He looks over to where you’d be coming out next.

“Ready, honey?” Your dad says to you as he hooks his arm around yours.

“Mhm.” You smile.

The music changes, and everyone stands up to watch for you. Your eyes widen the second they fall on Harry. He looked incredible, beyond incredible. You were happy he kept his suit a secret. It was so very him. He immediately started crying when he saw you. He thought you were the most beautiful, breathtaking thing in the world. You both smile and laugh as your dad continues to walk you down the aisle. Harry steps forward to lift your veil, and you both beam at each other. He looks at your dad and then to you. You give your dad a hug before he goes to sit down, and you take Harry’s hand as you step towards the gazeebo. Niall wipes a few tears away himself before beginning.

“You both good?” He asks, making the two of you laugh. He hands Harry a tissue.

“She looks good, doesn’t she?” Harry jokes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both a work of art, okay? Let’s get this started.” You both laugh again. Neither of you knew what Niall was going to say, but it still had to wait. “Cantor?”

Your cantor says the few prayers you wanted him to. You and harry were facing each other, holding hands. You had told him what the prayers meant and why they were important to you. Once your cantor was done, it was Niall’s turn to speak.

“Love is a really weird thing. I honestly wasn’t sure what it was until I saw these two progress together. There are good times and bad, but the good always outweighs it. I’m not sure what it was, but I saw two people who I was very close with, living these separate lives, when I just had this feeling that they should be together. So, you two are more than welcome.” You hear people laughing. “Every relationship is different, and I think that’s the beautiful thing about love. It’s growing with some, and just becoming comfortable with how your lives are molding together. You two were pretty comfortable with that early on, how soon was it when you moved in? Four, five months?” You swat an arm at him. “None of us even thought to question you on it. There’s a gravitational pull between the two of you, there’s no denying that. Y/N, when Harry told me he was bringing you to meet his mum and sister that first Christmas you two were together, I knew he was going to marry you. I saw it all very early on. We went on a camping trip and he confessed to us that you were his soulmate.” You look at Harry. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to smack Niall or not, but he looked at you and nodded. “Basically, no one was going to get in his way on this. I had never heard my brutish friend speak so highly of a lady in his life before. And you. You had a new light in your life again. You came back into yourself. Needless to say, you make each other whole.” He clears his throat. “Now then, they happy couple would like to exchange their own vows before we get on with the rings.”

“Y/N.” Harry says after taking a deep breath. “In my wildest dreams I never thought I’d be standing here, marrying someone like you. From the very beginning I knew this was destined to be forever. There’s just no way I’d ever be able to let you go. I promise you that going forward, I’m never letting you go. I want every day with you, even if every day isn’t perfect.” His hands were shaking in yours. “I’ll be your partner no matter what. I know we can get through anything as long as we’re getting through it together. You’re my everything, always.”

“Harry.” Your voice nearly cracks and then you giggle. “When we met, I didn’t realize how much work I really needed to do on myself. You were so patient and understanding with so many things. I’ll forever be grateful for that. You allowed me to have that room to grow, and not everyone gets that kind of patience. I always want to give that to you in return. I feel like I’ve been able to become who I’m supposed to be because of you. I promise to always be your partner no matter what. Through the good and bad, through thick and thin, you’re my everything, always.”  

“Alright, I’ve got these rings here.” Niall hands you each one. You slide them on each other’s fingers. “M’not even gonna ask if there’s anyone here that doesn’t think these two should be wed because you’re crazy if yeh don’t.” You both laugh. “By the power vested in me, and the state of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!”

You step on the glass under the small cloth just as Harry grips your waist to pull you in for a kiss. It felt so good to have his lips on yours again, even if it was brief. Everyone was cheering for you. You walk back down the aisle together, and the wedding party follows. Harry gets his lips on yours again the second you’re away from the crowd. You were down at the private area where more photos could be taken.

“You’re my wife!”

“You’re my husband!”

“Technically you both got married when you signed the marriage license last night.” Niall says.

“Shut up.” You hug him. “What you said was so beautiful, thank you.”

Mariah takes every picture possible. A ton of you and Harry, more of the wedding party, family photos, literally, every picture possible. Once all of that is done you and Harry go inside to wait for the receiving line to begin. You both knew you’d be jumping around to different tables, but you also wanted to enjoy your reception. The receiving line was an easy way to make sure you actually say everyone. It takes a little while to get through everyone, but you were happy you did it.

The DJ starts announcing the wedding party. You hold Harry’s hand when it’s your turn.

“And now, for the first time ever, Mr. and Mrs. Styles!”

You both come in and everyone cheers for you. Your song starts to play, You Make Me So Very Happy, and you dance with Harry. You were so impressed with him. The two of you had gone to get dance lessons together to make sure everything looked nice. He was the one that suggested it. He twirls you around a few times, and the two of you just have fun during your dance. Next up was Harry’s dance with Anne. You beamed as you watched them together. Her eyes were glossy, and she was radiating pride. You danced with your dad next. It was a really nice moment for the two of you.

Once all of that was out of the way, you and Harry were able to sit at your lone table to enjoy some salad for your first course. You had decided to have a plated meal instead of the buffet. It cost a little extra, but you thought it was worth it, and Harry wasn’t going to fight you on it. His business was booming and you had gotten another small pay bump, so you put it to good use. You guzzle down some water, you were so thirsty. Dancing was sweaty work. You also knew this would be the time where some of the speeches would start. Glasses started clinking as Louis stood up to give his speech.

“Right, so, Niall got to do all the sappy stuff before, thanks for gettin’ that out of the way, mate.” Harry sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. His grin forming. Louis loved when he had a microphone to speak into. Harry had given a really good speech at Louis’ wedding, so he had been waiting for this moment. “Harry’s been my mate and brother for what? Like, ten years? Has it been that long? We’re gettin’ old, lad.” Everyone in the room laughs. “Now, I’ve seen Harry through some ups and some downs. I’ve seen him at his worst and I’ve seen him at his best. I’ve seen him take his shirt off his back for someone, and I’ve also seen him absolutely pissed with his head in the toilet. He was there for me when both of my kids were born, hell, he held Eleanor’s other hand when Eliza May was born. I had to grow up pretty fast, and as much I loved Harry, I was sort of wonderin’ when he was gonna grow up, find a nice girl of his own. I met the lovely Y/N at a Halloween party. These two came in dressed like Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Not only was this girl extremely polite, but she could throw a drink back.” Everyone laughs as your face flushes. “Needless to say, I could tell right off the bat that Harry was smitten. I was shocked when he told me he had a girlfriend, and I was even more shocked a month or so later when he told me he was in love. He’d send me pictures of the two of you all the time and tell me about these little things that you’d do. He really did think you were cute, I have the receipts to prove it. When you’re close with someone, all you want is for them to be truly happy. You make Harry happy, and that’s all I could ask. I wish the two of you a wonderful, long life together.” He raises his glass as does everyone else. Harry gives your hand a squeeze.

“That was pretty good.” He says to you.

“Mhm.” You smile. Rachel clinks her glass next and stands up.

“Sarah and I wrote this together, just so everyone knows.” The room laughs. “Y/N, we were eighteen when we met. Yikes, we’re getting old too. Even though we were friends, I didn’t really get to know you until we spent that semester in California together. That was when I realized how special you were. Sorry it took me a year and half.” You both smile at each other. “Like any other girl in college, Y/N went through some wild phases, but she always kept her priorities straight. Sometimes it was hard to related to her since Sarah and I were both becoming teachers and she was going into the world of business and marketing. If there was something she wanted, she got it. There were a few weeks Sarah and I hadn’t seen Y/N so we called her up and told her it was time to have a girl’s night, so we did. That was when we found out she was sort of seeing someone. This guy, Harry.” You can’t help but giggle. “So, this guy Harry FaceTimes her, not even calls or texts, he makes the boldest move of FaceTiming her while we’re out, and she convinces him and his friend Niall to come out and join us. We weren’t able to get to know Harry that well right away, but we could tell something special was there. It took me some time to warm up to Harry. Believe it or not, it’s not always love at first sight with him. We had a really nice heart to heart. I’ll never forget that. Our friend group merged into one, and I truly feel like I could lean on Harry for anything. You’re one of my best friends now too. There’s no one else I’d want to see Y/N with.” She raises her glass and everyone follows.

“I’d like to just say something.” Harry says. “Thank you all so much for coming and supporting us. I love this woman with my whole heart and it was great to be able to stand up and say all of that in front of you all today. Dinner’s about to be served, so we hope you all have fun celebrating with us tonight.”

Everyone clinks their glasses, which is the signal that they want you two to kiss, and you do so. Dinner was delicious, just like how you knew it would be. People were going back and forth to bar and mingling.

“Are you done, babe?” Harry asks.

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Now might be a good time to make some of the rounds before we do the cake and all that. I know once you hear a song you like you’ll be on the dancefloor all night.”

“You’re right.”

You both start making your way around the different tables to say hi to folks a little longer. One of the serves comes out with your cake. You two delicately serve it to each other. Now was not the time to make a mess. You kiss each other and you both smile at the lemony taste. Everyone loved the assorted cupcakes as well.

The music started to pick up and more people started gathering on the dancefloor. You got right out there with your friends and family. You and Harry had worked closely with the DJ to craft the perfect playlist. You take turns dancing with Louis and Niall, while Harry dances with Mariah, then Sarah, then Rachel. He dances with his other friend Sarah and Gemma, and even makes the rounds to both of your sisters. You have a nice dance with your brother as well. Eventually you two come back to each other for a much needed slow song. You had just finished the Cha Cha Slide and you were pooped.

“Having fun?” He smirks.

“Tons, you?”

“Loads.” He leans in to kiss you quick. “You really do make a beautiful bride. I hope you know this won’t be the only time you’ll be wearin’ this dress. I’ll probably ask you to wear it a ton.” He pulls you a little closer.

“Same could be said for this suit. It’s gorgeous, and I love how you had everyone wear a different color that falls in it.”

“Thanks, I thought it would be different and fun. Noticed you got your nails painted the same color as mine.”

“I couldn’t help it, I wanted to match. It was like you were there to hold my hand while you physically couldn’t be with me, you know?”

“God.” He presses his forehead to yours. “When can we go to our room?”

“Harry.” You swat an arm at his shoulder. “We have like three more hours, easily, until we can do that.”

He groans just as a faster song starts to play. You gasp and run over to your friends. It was Yeah by Usher, you were long gone. It was a really fun night. People slowly started to filter out. The girls said they would bring all the cards and gifts people brought up to the room you slept in last night. Your friends had helped out to get everything into the honeymoon suite that you’d need. Buster would be sleeping with Niall and Sarah tonight. You were so grateful.

“It was perfect.” Harry says as he walks hand in hand with you to the suite.

“Mhm.” You cling to his arm.

“Oh wait.” He hoists you up so he’s carrying you bridal style. “Okay, stick the key in.” You giggle and does as he says. He gets the door open and carries you in. “Okay, now, I think this means we’re officially married.” He jokes.

“I don’t think that happens until we consummate.” You yawn as he sets you down on the bed.

“You tired?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Mhm.”

“I think after some sleep it’ll be better.”

“Agreed. Let me help you with all those buttons and what not.”

You stand up as he unbuttons the back of your dress. You catch the top so it doesn’t fall to the floor. You gracefully step out of it and hang it back up.

“These are cute.” He says, pinching your bum which was covered with white lace.

“Thanks.” You giggle, and go into the bathroom to take all of your makeup off.

Harry gets out of his suit and uses the toilet after you. You both crawl into the comfy bed and settle in together. You rest your head on his chest, and the both of you just feel at peace.

“Missed yeh so much last night, baby.” He squeezes you.

“I missed you too. M’glad we’re together now.”

“Me too.” He kisses the top of your head and yawns.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to drift off. However, you woke up around 4AM feeling very well rested. You had both gone to bed completely naked. You roll over to see Harry on his back, fast asleep. His lips parted and light snores coming out. You shift under the blankets and reach for his dick. This was something he had given permission for you to do. You could wake him up like this any time you wanted. You stroke him and you feel him start to get hard in your hand. His eyes flutter open and he looks over at you.

“So early.” He says with that thick morning voice you loved so much.

“I know, I just really wanna fuck my husband, would that be alright?” You tug at him a little harder.

“Fuck.” He groans. “Yes.”

He reaches for your hips and he pulls you on top of him. You grind down on him and his head rolls back.

“Jesus, did you wake up wet like this?”

“I must’ve been thinking about this in my sleep.” You kiss on his neck gently. The two of you promised not to leave marks until you were on your honeymoon.

“I can’t wait to get my hand around your throat in just a couple of days. And then I’m suck little marks all over your body.”

“Harry, please.” You groan as you grind against him again.

“Do we need to use a condom?”

“I’d like to until we’re in Florida, is that okay?”

“Course. They’re in my bag.” He points to it and you get off him to go grab one. You rip the blankets away and tear the foil open. You roll it onto him for him. “Love it when you do that. Showin’ me who’s boss a little bit?” He smirks.

“As your wife I just know there are things I need to do to please my man, but sure.” You shrug. “I’ll be the boss.” You grin and straddle him.

You line his tip up with your center, and you slowly sink down on him. You both moan from the contact. It had been almost two weeks since you two had been intimate with everything going on and you had just gotten over your period two days ago. You both needed this.

“How are you still so tight after all this time?” He grunts as his fingers press bruises into your hips.

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you lean down and suck his bottom lip into your mouth. You grind up and down on him. He thrusts up into you, getting in nice and deep.

“Fuck, Harry.” You groan against his neck.

His hands slide around to your ass to move you faster on him. Your chest was rubbing against his, and you snake a hand between the two of you to rub your clit.

“Y/N.” He moans, his head rolling back into the pillow.

“I’m so fucking close, oh my god.”

You press your forehead further into his shoulder as he thrusts faster into you. You bite down on his collar bone, and you end up coming at the same time. You rest on him while you both catch your breaths. He cups your cheeks to pull your face back to his. He kisses you, pressing his lips hard to yours.

“Okay, now we’re really married.” You both giggle as you pull off him.

“I’ll let you take care of that.”

“Oh, so you can roll it on, but you can’t take it off?” He smirks as he sits up.

“Nope, that’s your mess, my doll.”

You both clean yourselves up and get back into bed. You had a couple more hours before you needed to be up, after all. Harry spoons you, and you both drift back off.

//

Later that morning everyone cheers when you and Harry come down for brunch. You can’t help but giggle, and Buster comes running towards the two of you.

“I feel so bad, he’s not gonna see us for like…two weeks.” You pout as you pet him.

“He’ll be in good hands.” You both sit down with your friends.

“Yeah, he’ll be with us for a few days, and then with Rachel and Mariah, and then with Seth and Isaac.” Niall says. “Lots of family time.”

“When do you two leave for Florida?” Eleanor asks.

“Tomorrow morning.” You smile. “Our flight’s at like eight. You can check in on your phone so you can get your room a little ahead of time. And we’re doing that thing where we’re letting them take our bags so they’ll be in the room for us by the end of the day. And we’re taking the bus to the resort. They have it down to a science.”

“I feel like that would be a really fun friend group trip some time.” Sarah says.

“Please, these two are gonna start poppin’ kids out the second they can, it’ll be years until we can do that.” Niall jokes.

“Louis and El have kids, we’ll probably be next, maybe that just means you all need to catch up.” You smirk.

“I have plenty of kids at school.” Sarah puts her hands up. “But maybe Rachel could be next.” She giggles.

“Plenty of kids in homes that need adoption.” Rachel says as she smiles at Mariah.

“So with you two on vacation does that mean you won’t be pestering me for photos right away?” Mariah laughs.

“You better send us some or you’re fired.” Harry jokes and the whole table laughs.

You look up at him and smile; you never felt luckier.

For reference: Here is what I imagine Y/N’s dress looking like: 

And here’s photographer!Harry’s suit:

#harry styles #my everything #take it slow sequel #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles imagine #tag if you reblog pls!! #hope you like! #so there's gonna be 14 parts total #ive just been having fun writing about their married life and i cant seem to stop #come hang out in my ask box!

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #498

Top Ten Movie Cameos

The first time I think I ever noticed someone cameoing in a movie was Steven Spielberg. I was watching The Blues Brothers, and there was this guy, who I was sure was Mr. The Berg. I must have seen him in some behind-the-scenes something or the other. But he was a director, not an actor, so it couldn’t have been him, right? Then years later I was reading Empire, and sure enough, I was vindicated. It was indeed the play mountain himself. But more on that later.

So, cameos, then. What is a cameo? Now, in my opinion, I think it really has to be small. Really, it should just be one scene – or even one shot. The smaller the better. I’ve seen people online refer to Judi Dench in Shakespeare in Love or Tom Cruise in Tropic Thunder as cameos, which is very, very daft, as those are clearly supporting roles – even if they are quite small (and remember, Dench didn’t win her Oscar for “Best Cameo”, she won it for “We Meant To Give You This Last Year”, which is a very important category in the Oscars). I also think the best cameos should be unexpected; a nice surprising treat. And usually they’re funny – the incongruity of seeing that person in this film. Because that’s the other thing: for a cameo to really work, the person cameoing has to be kinda famous. For instance, some might say that Ashley Johnson in The Avengers is a cameo, but whilst she’s obviously awesome and prodigiously talented, I don’t think she’s instantly recognisable enough (which, y’know, she’s mostly famous as a voice actor); also there’s nothing inherently funny or surprising about her role, she’s a waitress who’s saved by Captain America. It doesn’t feel like it’s saying anything to have Johnson play that role, other than I guess Joss Whedon wanted her in the movie (it’s actually funnier that her brief scene is referenced in Loki, because Kate Herron had the whole of the MCU to draw from in a montage, but chose to use an unknown character who’s in one tiny bit of one film, entirely because she’s a huge fan of The Last of Us – see, that is arguably a cameo).

So my rationale for what is and isn’t a cameo might seem complex or even arbitrary, but when has that stopped me in the past? And so, with no further ado, we now get deep into the weeds of it and celebrate my favourite movie cameos of all time. Oh, and there’s no Bill Murray here; I know, I know, it’s a really famous cameo, but, er, I’ve never seen Zombieland. Sorry.

Stan Lee in Pretty Much Everything (2000-2019): I mean, who else? The absolute King of Cameos. Lee was a massive publicity hound all his life, and passed up no opportunity to get in front of the camera, so once big, proper movies were being made of his comics, he was right there, selling hot dogs in X-Men (2000), rescuing children in Spider-Man (2002), and then right through every MCU film until his sad death in 2019 (and even popping up in Teen Titans!). Hearing him tell Miles Morales “I'm going to miss him,” in Into the Spider-Verse chokes me up every time.

Carrie Fisher & George Lucas in Hook (1991): this has always been one of my favourites because unlike virtually every other entry in this list, you only know this if you’ve been told. But it’s funny and it’s sweet. When Tinkerbell takes Peter to Neverland, she flies over a bridge, where a silhouetted couple are seen canoodling. Her pixie dust falls across them, and they begin to float into the air. And apparently the unrecognisable couple are played by Princess Leia and the director of Star Wars. Which, I think you’ll agree, is pretty cool (Hook is really good for cameos).

Brad Pitt in Deadpool 2 (2018): having an invisible character offers plenty of opportunity for some good gags, especially in a Deadpool movie, but the real laugh in the film comes when the Vanisher is electrocuted and we get to see his face for a split second. And – ha – it turns out to be the hugely mega-famous Brad Pitt. It’s funny because he’s a massive star.

Martin Sheen in Hot Shots! Part Deux (1993): it’s one thing for the movie to do an Apocalypse Now gag, as Charlie Sheen’s Topper Harley sails down a river on a military boat, but hanging a lampshade on it by making it cross over with Martin Sheen’s Willard from the classic seventies Vietnam epic is another thing entirely. And then both actors notice each other – ha, funny, they’re father and son in real life – and say in unison, “I loved you in Wall Street!”. Very on-the-nose all the funnier for it.

Steven Spielberg in The Blues Brothers (1980): well, I mentioned him, and here he is, a totally nonplussed-looking administrator bloke just merrily eating a sandwich. He’s frightfully young (I’m guessing he was probably about 32 or 33) and he’s got a big brown tache instead of his usual ‘Berg Beard, he’s dressed very smartly and he’s awfully polite. His demeanour is hilariously in stark contrast to the mayhem around him, and his public persona is also hilariously in contrast to the raucous and ribald mood of the movie.

Cate Blanchett in Hot Fuzz (2007): this is one I didn’t even notice till I read about it after seeing the movie. In a very funny scene where Simon Pegg’s Nick Angel chats to his ex-girlfriend Janine, she is head-to-toe in forensic gear throughout, with a mask covering her face, so all we see are her eyes. But the gag of it is, she’s played by the phenomenally famous Cate Blanchett. You get a megastar to do one scene but make her unrecognisable. So funny it beats Peter Jackson’s evil Santa.

Don Ameche & Ralph Bellamy in Coming to America (1988): this is another one I remember finding hilarious when I was a kid. Walking down the street late at night with love interest Lisa (Shari Headley), Akeem (Eddie Murphy) nonchalantly gives a huge wad of cash to some poor homeless bums. But it turns out that they’re played by Murphy’s old Trading Places co-stars Ameche and Bellamy – and they refer to each other by their character names from that earlier film. “We’re back!” declares Ameche, referencing the end of Trading Places, when their crooked broker characters were defeated and ruined by Murphy and Dan Aykroyd. It’s a great bit of shared-universe tomfoolery, and very funny for fans of Murphy’s movies. Oh, and speaking of Aykroyd…

Dan Aykroyd in Casper (1995): in 1995 it had been six long, bitter years without a new Ghostbusters film; back then, we could still hold out hope for a proper Ghostbuster 3. Sadly that never came to pass, but it was a very pleasant surprise when Ray Stantz himself popped up in Casper, of all things, fearfully running out of Whipstaff Manor in full ghostbusting regalia and declaring, “Who ya gonna call? Someone else!”. I mean, after facing down Gozer and Vigo and who knows what else, you’d think three sarcastic arsehole ghosts would be no match for him, but maybe the ‘busters were having tough times. Maybe this will all be backstory in Ghostbusters: Afterlife. Maybe Cathy Moriarty and Eric Idle will return the favour and do cameos of their own. We can but hope.

Matt Damon, Luke Hemsworth, & Sam Neill in Thor: Ragnarok (2017): twenty years ago you could point to Goldmember as the, er, gold standard in multi-character cameo pile-ups. And while that is great – Danny DeVito giving the finger, Spielberg back-flipping – I think it’s been surpassed by this minor gaggle of stars hamming it up. Matt Damon – famouser than anyone actually billed in the movie – is An Actor Playing Loki. Dr. Alan Grant from Jurassic Park is An Actor Playing Odin (whilst Odin’s actor, Anthony Hopkins, plays Tom Hiddleston playing Loki playing Odin – do keep up), and Thor’s Real-Life Brother plays An Actor Playing Thor. It’s all delightfully meta and hilarious.

Ollie Johnston & Frank Thomas in The Incredibles (2004): this one’s really sweet, and like the Hook cameo, would very easily slip you by. At the end of the film, after the climactic battle, two old men cheer on the superheroes – “That’s old school!” “Yep, no school like the old school!” – but what’s great is that they’re voiced by – and designed to look like – Ollie Johnston and Frank Thomas, the last two surviving members of the famous “Nine Old Men” group of Disney animators, who’d worked on many of the classic Disney films. This was Pixar and director Brad Bird giving a tip of the hat to the legends who came before them, and made all the sweeter by the fact that Johnston and Thomas (both sadly now deceased) were absolute best buds in real life. A cameo that educates and makes you think! How nice!

There you go. Sadly no room for any of the many great Star Wars cameos, from Daniel Craig through to George Lucas’ entire family. Oh well!

#top ten #cameos #stan lee #thor #hook #incredibles #ghostbusters #eddie murphy #deadpool #steven spielberg #hot fuzz

[timelock97]

Game Changer

Chapter Nine: A Poke-Mishap

Word Count: 3725

Warnings: Slight-anxiety, language

__________________________________________

“Do you have to go?” Lee whispers into my skin. It’s the night before I have to fly back home, and we were trying to make the most of our last night together.

I nuzzle closer to him, my little Pokemon sleeping down by my feet. “Only one more semester equaling four-ish months, then two months of clinicals, then I am here for two months. After that, I have to take my exam and then I can officially move here.” I hum, nose brushing against his. I pull myself closer to him, kissing his lips gently. Lee’s hand that rests on my hip tightens, while his arm that is under my neck pulls me that much closer. I shift away from him, only to throw my leg over his hip and roll us so that I am straddling him, kissing him deeply. As I do, my hands find their way into his hair and tangle themselves into the thick locks, tugging gently as we kiss. He groans against my mouth, but doesn’t stop me.

He eventually leans back so his head hits the pillow and our lips come apart with a soft pop. His hands moving to rest against the skin of my back. He sighs softly, moving a hand to cup my cheek and push some hair back behind my ear. “If I could keep you another day, or ask Diagla to freeze time just for a night, I would.”

I give him a soft smile, pressing a soft kiss into the palm of his hand, “You know if I could stay another day I would, but I need to go home and prepare for my classes.” I whisper, dragging my fingers against his skin, taking him all in.

Leon cups my cheek again, and I hold his hand there, “I know, but it doesn’t make you leaving any easier.”

“I know,” I whisper slowly leaning down to capture his lips again only to pause to speak one last time, “But we have one more night to soak each other up until I have to go, let’s not waste it.”

Leon chuckles, pulling me down so that I am pressed against his chest, flipping us so he is hovering over me. His amber eyes practically glow in the dim light, and my heart flutters as he leans down to kiss me firmly once again.

The sound of the alarm clock pulls me from a deep and restless sleep. I press my face into Leon’s back, arm wrapped around his front as he lets out a small groan as he turns off the alarm. I feel his hand grip mine, lifting it until he can press a soft kiss into it. “My love, we should get up.”

I shake my head against his back, already feeling the tiredness nipping to my emotions, I really wasn’t ready to leave, and after last night I sure as hell would risk missing my flight. “Five more minutes, please?” It comes out in a whisper, but from the way I can feel Leon sigh I know he can feel my holding onto him a little tighter. He only hums at my request, moving so that he is on his back so he can pull my head into the croak of his neck.

We lay there and take each other in for a few more minutes, but just like my first morning here we can hear his team in the kitchen, and Leon let’s out a soft sigh. “Come on, love. We have to get up now.” The only reason I agree is because I can’t bring myself to let go. Leon orders breakfast from a local bakery while I make up the dishes of Pokemon food, passing it to everyone that are out of their balls. Scorch is wrapped around one ankle as I move, the mood being shared between everyone.

After eating, Leon helps me go through the last minute packing, and I throw my hair into a ponytail before setting my bags by the door.

“We have a little time, is there anything you want to do before we head over there?” Leon mutters hugging me from behind.

“I think I should do some proper goodbyes to my babies, huh?” I tease. I kneel to the ground and let out a small whistle, the four of them running over. I reach for Ivy first, who rubs her head into my hand before practically collapsing into my lap. Oh how I had enjoyed sitting here in the apartment only the day before when Leon got called into the tower. “Hey, pretty girl. You’re going to stay here with Lee while I’m gone. He is gonna take care of you while I am gone, okay?” I hum, scratching behind her ear. She coos, nuzzling into me again before sitting up and moving to the side. Fritter jumps into my lap next, cuddling close. “And as much as I want you to come with me, you will have to stay here as well little one.” I lift her up and press a kiss to the top of her head before setting her down. Daisy crawls into my lap next, grabbing a fist full of my shirt. “I have no worries about you, keep your cool, and don’t electrocute anyone okay?” I hug her close before handing her to Leon, Scorch not wasting any time to throw himself into my lap. I laugh as I hug him close, pulling away to look at my sweet boy. “And you stay out of trouble, train hard, but no evolving until I get back, okay?” Scorch bounces in my lap before leaping off.

With that, it’s my cue to stand and grab my pokeballs from off the table and return the three smaller ones inside and set them on the counter. Ivy moves to sit at my feet as I make a last minute walkthrough of everything I have and need. I bite my lip before spinning around. “Lee, can I take one of your hoodies with me?”

He laughs, nodding and taking my hand to lead me back to his room. He hands me a hoodie with his league logo and number on it, pulling it over my head. I giggle loudly as he places his hands on either side of my face. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing my lips softly.

“I love you too, hot shot.” I smile. The two of us smile softly, before we finally head out.

Leon flies with me from Galar to London, walking with me to my terminal and staying with me until I am finally called to load on. He smiles at me and presses a firm kiss into my lips.

“Call me when you get home, just so I know you are safe.” He whispers, hands cupping my cheeks.

I nod, pulling him close before I have to pull away. Walking backward to step away from him. “I’ll talk to you soon-”

“Not soon enough,” he decides. He gives me a sad smile as I walk over to the gate, and with one last wave I leave my Champion behind to go back to my normal life, or as normal as it can be.

__________________________________________

Applin of My Eye

I made it home, I’ll call once I am settled at home.

I love you

My Champion

Good to hear, my love.

I got called to the tower once I got back

So I haven’t had time to check on the Pokemon

Will send you update photos later.

__________________________________________

I smile as I ride the escalator down to the luggage claim, shifting my backpack on my shoulders.

“(Y/N)!” My eyes snap up from my device to see my brother waving wildly, my dad standing at his side.

“Hey!” I laugh, waving back before I meet the the bottom of the steps. As soon as I can move to the side to accommodate Aiden to throw his arms around me. “Gosh I missed you,” I hum pressing a kiss to the side of his head before letting go to hug my dad. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Glad to just see you back,” my dad smiles, moving to take my backpack off of my shoulder. “Where do we have to wait for your bags?”

I point over to the side where the out of country fliers are getting their bags. “I have to grab the two from over there.” I throw my arm over Aiden’s shoulder to drag him over. Thankfully, the bags come quickly and we drive home in the snow, taking about some of my trip as we go.

Once home, my mom helps me unpack my bags. I tell her about the gifts I received and some of the places we had visited in Galar. She smiles and even mentions that they should all go and visit next time, especially since I would be moving there after clinicals were over.

After about an hour and a half, I made my way over to my room and start unpacking my backpack, pulling out a few electronics and my camera filled with pictures. A small thud catches my attention, but before I can see what it is, Buster paws it under the bed and crawls under after it.

“Buster, what do you have?” I groan, crouching down to peek under the bed. I can only assume it’s a figurine from one of the antique shops in Hammerlocke. However, what I find makes my heart plummet into my stomach.

Under the bed, Buster is pawing around a pokeball. I reach under and attempt to grab it, only for Buster to playfully bite my hand. “Buster, ow, no bite! Get out from under there.” I scold, finally shooing him from out under it and reach under again. My fingers just graze the ball, and after a few minutes of struggling, I manage to grab it. A small prayer falls past my lips after seeing the nameless pokeball that it was one that Hop had gifted me for Christmas.

Buster attempts to get the ball from me, and I quickly deposit it into Lee’s hoodie pocket before standing, “I’m sure mom has your food ready, shoo!” I call out as open the door, Buster flies out the door, nearly bumping into the wall in the hallway.

I shut it softly before taking a breath. I toss the ball forward and with a pop out comes little Applin who bounces up and down on the bed. “Oh no,” I whisper, moving toward the bed and kneeling at the side as Fritter bounces over to me. “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” I bite my lip, grabbing my phone from the mattress and dial Leon’s number, pressing it to my ear.

It rings twice before I hear someone answer, “Hello, love-”

“Lee, we have a problem,” I whisper, moving to sit on the bed as Fritter hops into my lap.

“What’s wrong?”

I open and close my mouth, trying to figure out the best option. “Uh, some way, somehow, Fritter ended up coming home with me?”

“What! How?”

“I don’t know!” I hiss back, falling back on the bed. “You think I would say we have a problem if I knew she was in here? No! She would have gone back home with you.” I run a hand over my face. “What do I do?”

I hear Leon sigh, waiting patiently until he speaks, “I won’t be back until you graduate, so until then he will just have to stay with you-”

“Lee-”

“There isn’t anything that can be done.” He states it firmly, making my mouth fall shut to listen to him. “Unless Sonia is willing to fly out, or my Mum, I can’t do anything about it until then.”

Fritter nuzzles into my stomach. “What am I supposed to feed him then? I want her to be healthy and fed, Lee.”

I hear the sound of him typing before he speaks up, “Apples, any kind really, even other fruit. You will have to experiment. The apples here should be the only ones that will evolve her.”

I nod even though I can’t see him, “Okay, okay. Anything else?”

“Just,” he pauses softly, “try and keep her hidden from people who might do you or her wrong. I trust you, always have and will.”

“I’m not going to tell my folks yet, only when I have to. ” I mutter, reaching across to grab the pokeball and return Fritter inside. “This is going to be a mess.”

“Everything will be fine,” he whispers. “What are your plans for tonight?”

I let out a small laugh, “Going over to Aaron’s, he invited Ginny and Max over as a final get together before we head back to college.”

“That’ll be fun,” he sighs, I can hear the scribble of a pen to paper.

“My love,” I coo, “Don’t over work yourself.” I sing, rubbing my hand over my face.

I will try,“ he sighs, "I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

When it comes time to head out, I grab my purse ahead of time. I take one look at my phone and pokeball, and due to me already being worried, I grab the ball and tuck it inside my purse for good measure once the phone is in my back pocket.

“I’m off to Aaron’s! I’ll be home sometime after midnight!” I call as I enter the kitchen, Aiden throws his arms around me in a hug before I get passed around to my family.

“If it is too icy give us a call, okay?” My dad mutters in my ear.

“I will, promise.” I giggle walking over and grabbing an apple off the counter and placing it in my bag. “I’ll see you all tonight!” With that I slip out the door and walk to my car that I had started ten minutes before.

The drive to Aaron’s is short and familiar, the driveway decorated with Christmas lights all the way down to the house. I park outside and take a minute to decide what I am going to say, how I am going to say it, and if it is even a good idea to talk about.

But I want them to know, I want them to be a part of my life for as long as I can, so it’s better to tell them now, right? I look down at my engagement ring, it glistens in dim light of their driveway. I take a deep breath before grabbing my purse and pushing my door the rest of the way open to slip into the frigid air.

When I make it to the door I knock, attempting to let myself in until I see Aaron’s dad walking to the door with a smile on his face.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up?” He teases, motioning me inside. Once my shoes and coat are off he pulls me into a hug, his wife wandering out of the kitchen to give me a bright smile.

“(Y/N), it’s so nice to see you! Everyone is down stairs whenever you are ready.” She hugs me gently before glancing at my hand, her own hand covering her mouth as I quickly shush her. “Do they know?” She whispers, her husband now seeing the ring on my hand. I shake my head giggling as he offers me a high five, which I reciprocate. “Well, we won’t say anything yet, but sweetie, we are so happy for you!”

“Thank you,” I giggle, smiling at both of them before picking my purse back off the floor. “I’m going to head down.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” Aaron’s mom stops me, causing me to pause on the steps and look at her, “We are just about to head to another New Year’s party, if you aren’t comfortable enough to drive home we can take you when we get back!”

I whisper another thank you, adding a quick have fun, before descending the stairs to the basement where my friends were already playing video games. I smile happily at them as I enter, setting my purse down and throwing myself at Max for a hug, messing him up on his turn.

“(Y/N), what the hell!” He groans but hugs me anyways after I yell at him to hug me.

After, I stand and hug both Aaron and Ginny, Ginny pulling me down next to her to help her strategize her next move.

The hours pass, and I tell some vague stories about some things that happened in Galar, until we settle down to eat.

The four of us settle around the coffee table, eating burgers and fries as we discuss what we are going to do next.

“I vote Fortune Street-”

“We always play that-” I giggle, shoving Max to the side playfully.

He laughs, tossing a french fry at me, “Then what do you propose we do?”

I smile, glancing at my bag, “Actually, Aaron can I put my switch in? I have a video for you three to see. But I have to preface the video with a story.”

“Go ahead,” Aaron motions for me after he closes out of Youtube.

I stand and go to my bag, grabbing it and tossing the strap over my shoulder. “Okay, how do I start this?” I rub my hand behind my neck. “So you all know Leon, he can be a bit strange and some of his stories sometimes didn’t make sense. But in November, Ginny knows what I am getting at, but uh,” I look at them, seeing them look at me in curiosity. “Aaron, I know you played Pokemon, but something about the places and people in the game were very familiar to me. Due to that, I became worried and skeptical about my relationship with Leon. So I confronted him, and boy did a lot get revealed.” I pause to place my switch in the console so my screen pops up onto the tv. “And I know you won’t believe me, but I found out that in some places in the world, Pokemon are real-”

Max cuts me off “Bullshit, your pulling our leg, (Y/N)-”

“Leon does look a little like the character in the game.” Ginny defends, but Max continues.

“Pokemon are not real, they are a franchise.” He continues, but my mind blocks him out as reach into my bag and pull out the pokeball, making him trail off, “The only way you are going to convince me is with real proof-”

“Well, here is your proof, Maxwell.” I state, tossing out the ball that pops and returns to my hand as Fritter lands on the table facing me.

The room falls silent for a minute, Aaron just starts spitting gibberish causing Applin to jump and look at the people behind her, “But how, that’s, no way, Applin?”

“That’s Applin? How is that a dragon type?” Max yells, Applin jumping in surprise and turning to find me, throwing herself back into my arms.

Ginny looks like she has seen the cutest thing in the world, “Holy shit!”

I smile, walking over to her, “You want to hold her while I continue, Ginny?”

I giggle which turns into a full on laugh when she says, “Hell yes, she’s absolutely adorable. Hi baby!” She coos as Fritter cuddles into her chest.

“That’s a shiny Applin!” Aaron bellows, “How did you get them?”

“Is there a difference?” Max asks.

“Yes,-”

“Guys-” I try to cut in.

Aaron cuts me off, “A red applin is normal while a green applin is a shiny-”

“Guys-”

Max shakes his head, “They could have just crawled into a green apple instead of a red one-”

“Will you shut it and let me finish!” I call out, laughing a bit, “Arceus, you guys can be so annoying!”

Ginny immediately giggles, “I love that you are starting to talk like Leon.”

“I spent almost two weeks with the man, now let me finish!” I giggle, but point at the Pokemon in her lap, “That is Fritter, by the way.” I watch as Ginny leans down and cuddle her closer. “And she is a little stowaway so shush. Anyways, so Leon spills the beans and now that I was able to go to Galar, which also meant I got to meet everyone, including all the gym leaders, Rose, Oleana who is a huge bitch, as well as Sonia, her Gran, and Leon’s family. I have plenty of stories about my trip that I will share but I want to show you this video first cause I want you all to know something that happened while I was in Galar. So let me show you what happened on Christmas.” I click the button on my remote and stand off to the side.

I watch my friends’ faces as the video plays out. I personally have watched it a couple of times, which makes Leon soft and cuddly about the whole thing.

I look at my best friend just as Leon slides from the seat and to a kneeling position on the floor. Her mouth falls open. “Oh my God, (Y/N)!”

I giggle, laughing harder as Max begins making gagging and barfing noises.

“Shut up, Max this is amazing!” Ginny squeals standing and moving over to me and throws her arms around me as the me in the video throws her arms around Leon. “You’re engaged! Oh my God,” she whispers, tears pricking her eyes. I look behind her and see that the guys have both moved over to us.

“We are really happy for you, (Y/N), we really are.” Aaron says, pulling us into a big hug until the four of us are hugging each other.

“Does that mean we have a wedding coming?” Max laughs and I pull them all a little closer. Ginny takes my hand to look at the ring, bouncing on her feet in excitement.

Yeah, I will enjoy these moments for as long as it lasts.

As the clock strikes midnight, everyone cheers, banging pots and pans together to wake anyone in earshot of the house. It’s going to be a memorable year, with graduation around the corner, a Pokemon attached to my hip, and a potential move on the way.

__________________________________________

A/N: I HOPE YOU ALL ARE HAVING A GREAT DAY!

Masterlist

#cg writes #champion leon #champion leon x fem!reader #champion leon fluff #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #dandeleon #dande #pokemon leon #pokemon shield leon #pokemon sword leon

[greenreticule]

A weird combo of things to love in the new Rise of the TMNT but:

Donnie’s romantic tendencies and parental issues.

First: Romantic Tendencies

Usually this wouldn’t be a thing that I looked at and went: “Yes. I am glad that is there.” I flee romance like the plague, especially in characters I relate to.

But his crush on the TV character Atomic Lass was... kind of a relief?

I know Apriltello wasn’t really a thing until the 2012 version, and I didn’t mind it, but it was yet another in a long list of creators looking at my favorite male characters and going: “Uhhhh I don’t know how to do anything interesting with them. Quick! Love interest!!!!”

Happened with McCoy in Star Trek: The Original Series and novels.

Happened with Murdock in The A-Team.

Happened with Obi-Wan Kenobi in The Clone Wars (the one example on this list that I do not dislike at all because Satine is [angelic chorus]).

Happened with Odo in Deep Space Nine. 

Happened with Donnie (and Leo to a lesser extent) in TMNT (2012).

In Rise, Donnie’s crush on Atomic Lass is treated more like a flavor text, and actually a really nice one at that? Not objectifying at all? And perhaps a touch of hero worship? (All four them boys have a LOT of hero worship for ladies in this show and it’s great). It’s clear he likes-likes this fictional character, but he calls her “my hero” and his childhood fantasy was doing a superhero team-up with her. And he’s not shy about it at all.

This Donnie doesn’t seem like he’d fall into the Nice Guy(TM) pining if he were ever to fall for April, which, SIDE NOTE:

I would be on-board with Apriltello being explored again in Rise for three reasons:

A black girl gets the chance to be the love interest.

They already have a close friendship that could naturally grow into a relationship instead of the pouting infatuation from Donnie that we saw in the 2012 version. (I feel like I should note that I do very much like 2012!Donnie, but the pining got...ugh)

April’s VA, Kat Graham, yelling across the room at Donnie’s VA: “HEY BRENER!”

Anyways, Donnie is clearly not void of romantic tendencies, and he’s clearly not conflicted about reciprocation or lack thereof. So, if/when the show decides to start diving deep into the Turtles emotional state, I don’t think this Donnie is going to join the ranks of my other male faves, where the writers don’t know what sort of emotional journey to give them so they “HARK! A LOVE INTEREST!” story out.

Insteeeeaaaad, what looks to be playing in that field is, in my opinion, a lot more interesting:

Parental Issues

There’s already been two episodes that make it really clear that Donnie wants a parent, and then a few scattered examples in other episodes hold up this theory.

Splinter in this show is... unique. In “The Fast and the Furriest,” Donnie actually takes on a bit of a parent role with Splinter; he’s the one who lectures his dad about irresponsibility and even whips out a dad-ism that Splinter had taught him. It’s mostly played for laughs (and it is hilarious), but also I felt kinda sad for Donnie. He shouldn’t have to be the one who to take on the responsibility for his dad. He’s just a kid.

And he’s also shown trying to “dad” his brothers as well. “Donnie’s Gifts” were hella passive-aggressive, but they also were a result of him trying to protect his brothers too (especially Mikey). In fact, he falls into this a lot with Mikey. And then he’s also had a lot of moments trying to keep his brothers responsible and/or focused, and is there frequently for April too. He even installs a malware block on her phone (though that crosses a line in that he did not get her permission to do so).

It’s kinda like he’s trying to fill the role in their family that Splinter is thus far leaving empty. (Raph also does this, but in his own way.)

Donnie’s parental issues then became super overt in “Bug Busters” when it’s revealed that he completely eats up Big Mama’s flattery because it was the first “positive reinforcement I’ve gotten from a parent-aged adult!”

I keep seeing notes around about the show that Splinter is going to start taking their training more seriously when he realizes the threats that Big Mama and Baron Draxum pose. We haven’t seen that yet, but I’m really curious as to how Donnie would react to that.

Relief that his dad is finally stepping up? Annoyance that Splinter stepping into the “dad” territory that Donnie might now consider his space in the family? Resentment that it took this long for him to actually have a dad? All three?

...this is a highly comedic show that I’m probably reading into waaaay too much. But the 10-min format has me expecting the show to Steven-Universe it up and drop all sorts of emotional bombshells on us out of nowhere, and I'm just trying to preemptively protect myself from the feels. (also I suppose it’s because I over analyze for fun. That is how the Greenie do.)

#long post #donatello #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt

[geminimoonbeamx]

In the Land of Gods and Monsters: Part Four

A/N: this story, as I said, will continually jump from past to present until eventually the storylines meet up and we figure out exactly what’s happened and how it all built up to that. It’s honestly the biggest writing challenge I’ve ever given myself, but I’m really enjoying writing it.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Cursing, Mild mentions of incarceration.

Summary: You knew what you were getting yourself into when you met Bucky Barnes. He was a known wise guy. A feared mobster. Everyone in the neighborhood knew his name. Funny, in retrospect, you think that might have been why you couldn’t help but be drawn in like a moth to a flame. This first and foremost, is a love story. Blood stained and littered with bullet holes, but the story of how you fell in love with the man none the less. Mobster!BuckyxPlus Size Reader

-Present-

Interrogation rooms in movies are dingy, dirty and dungeonous. They were fearsome cells that police men threw criminals like you in; right before they water boarded you until they got the answers they needed. Hollywood has a way of skewing real life though, of taking just the best bits and pieces and glamorizing them. Because yeah; you’d rolled ecstasy on yachts’ and gone to parties that would leave most others starstuck. Been in homes that could fit three of the apartment you’d grown up in- their living rooms.

But at the moment, as you sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair; there’s nothing glamorous about it. The room you’ve been sat in is clean and clinical; plain painted brick walls and linoleum floors. Small enough to make you feel antsy, but not a hole in the basement of the station. But still- it feels like torture. You stare, blankly, only blinking when your eyes start to burn from drying out, at the wall. At the dull grey, at the little flecks where paint had begun to fleck. You’d been focused on the clock mounted on the opposite wall, but that had been even worse. You’d go stir cray if you kept looking at that, so now your eyes just flashed to it every once and a while, checking sparingly.

You’d been in this room for eight fucking hours, including that little drop in with Fury that had accrued a few hours ago.

You were exhausted, physically- but the prospect of sleep seemed ridiculous to you. You couldn’t fucking sleep, every time you even closed your eyes to blink, even for a moment flashes of the previous night stabbed through you. The room wasn’t all that cold, and yet you felt chilled to the bone. Your arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the shaking had stopped significantly, but small tremors still rocked you. You knew this feeling all to well: shock. Your body had gone through this a handful of times over the years. It never got any easier to deal with.

The door handle jiggles and then opens and you could cry when you see the familiar face, the head of red hair that’s knotted in a sleek bun on the back of her neck.

Jean is being led in by an officer, the moment she see’s you her face softens and you try to force a smile. It’s more of a grimace.

“I’m her lawyer” Jean tells the secretary cop who’s still fucking babysitting you from his place at the little desk “I’d like to talk to my client in private, please”

Her tone is even, professional- but commanding. The man gives her a wary look, his gaze flashing to you for a moment before he stands; telling her that there’d be two officers just outside if you “Needed anything, Mrs. Grey”

You clench your teeth and scoff. Two, huh? Who did they think you were, some kinda’ Capo?

When the door is shut and the two of you are alone in the room and she’s giving you the first soft, truly compassionate look you’d had all day, you accept her hug. Lean into her taller frame, your eyes pricking threateningly. But you refused to cry.

“We’re being recorded right now” She whispers to you and you nod. Yeah, you’d figured.

“My babies?” You ask, desperate. She’d tell you, Jean had always been a very straight up kind of woman. Which you figured was why she was the lawyer of most of the wise guys; She’d been Bucky’s lawyer for years, had gotten him out of a slew of shit. Kept him with you, fought hard for his freedom even though most of the time he was guilty of the crimes he was being accused of.

“They’re okay, I made a few calls. Child protective services has to release them to the safest next of kin- I called Bucky’s sister. Rebecca will take them until we figure this out” She assures you as the two of you pull apart and you blow out a breath. Okay, that was…okay. Rebecca might not have been your biggest fan, but she was a good person. She’d take care of your children, get them out of the city until all of this blew over of it came to that.

You sit back down, her across from you at the small table.

“Y/N, this is serious. They’ve got a decade worth of evidence and they’re just looking for someone to hang with it. RICO’s been all over this for years, this is a federal case-”

You’re trying to listen to her, you really are. As she goes through the listing of charges, just had Fury had. But now that you knew your kids were going to be okay…the question that you had barley kept behind the floodgates seemed to overwhelm you.

With a shaky breath you interrupted her.

“Are they alive?”

And you were worried; about Steve and Tony and Sam. All of the people who had been in that situation with you- but she knew exactly who you meant. And you were absolutely terrified of the answer that she was about to give you.

“I don’t know, Y/N, the hospital’s keeping everything pretty locked up. I know he’s still in critical care, but there hasn’t been any reports of deaths. I’ve been checking, I promise”

That makes you bury your face in your hands.

Don’t cry, you command yourself. Don’t cry-

But how could you live without him? You and Bucky had built everything together; he was the foundation to your life. How the fuck could you be expected to go on living it if he wasn’t there?

“Y/N”

“Just…give me a minute” You tell her, without lifting you head, muttering it into your palms.

“We might not have a minute, we need to lay down a game plan because Fury will be back and he’s not going to stop until he’s convicting someone. The man’s a fucking bloodhound” Jean has never sounded this worried before and you take a deep breath and remove your hands, running them through your hair instead. Pushing the locks away from your face.

“You’re going to get out of here soon, they don’t have anything on you, you know they don’t-”

It was unsaid, but you knew exactly what she was trying to communicate. Bucky had always fought tooth and nail to keep your name clean, he’d made sure to keep the “business” from touching his family to the best of his ability.

-“They can only hold you for 48 hours without pressing charges- and you’ve already been here for nine. You’ll get out, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get away. They’ve got everything frozen- all the accounts. They’ve got taps and eyes on everyone- this one isn’t going away, Y/N”

Your stomach churns and you swallow the bile that rises up your chest.

“What do we do?”

She sighs, folding her hands on the table before looking you right in the eye “We need to start thinking about taking one of their offers. Fury’s offering you immunity for your cooper-”

Your face skews up and you reel back at her words.

“Excuse me?”

“I know, it’s not…ideal, but it can end up keeping both you and Bucky out of prison”

“And what? Condemning everyone else? Fuck no, I’m not doing that” you shake your head vehemently.

“Fury-”

“Can go to hell”

“Y/N, think about your kids. What are they going to do? Grow up with both of their parents incarcirated? Rebecca works at a diner for Christ’s sakes, she cant provide for them. And your accounts are frozen, they might stay that way forever. It’s time to start thinking about what you’re going to do to save your family. Your husband- and not everyone else”

This was hard, you felt cornored and wild and like you were about to be thrown into a panic attack. How could you make a decision like this?

“He would hate me”

Bucky would, he’d be so fucking upset. Because first and foremost; your husband was loyal. Known for it.

“He would get over it eventually. He’d get to watch his kids graduate from school and grow up-from outside of a 6 by 8 cell”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

That’s your mantra once more. You cling to it.

You hadn’t been born into this life, or grown up in it…but you’d been accepted into it. It had been all you’d known for so long. And the first thing you learn, the first lesson this lifestyle had taught you was-

That there was no dishonor above disloyalty. The absolute worst thing you could do was snitch-

“I wont rat, Jean. There’s no fucking way” There’s stiff resolve in your voice and she deflates. She’d heard those same word out of various people. People who’d chose this honor code over their freedom. It was hard, and sad- but she knew there was little chance that you would be swayed.

You were loyal to your husband, undyingly so. And he was loyal to the mafia.

And both of you were about to go down with this sinking ship.

@buchonians @papi-chulo-bucky @geekyweed @kelly96q @missrobyn81 @iamwarrenspeace @docharleythegeekqueen @beccavesper @buckysforeverprincess @yslbucky @prettybubblesintheair @4theluvofall @huntressxtimelady @crazyplantladyy @welcometothelordsden @jacks-on-krack @peacefulwriter88 @thejenniferincident @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @eshia16 @shayla-markele @xotaku-baekx @rcsgcld @manlyflower @grande-and-thediamonds @xplussizereaderx @carryonmyswansong @quinntwilight @crazyplantladyy @badassbaker @honeydrippin-cutefattie @sophiealiice

Okay so I know I’m probably overwhelming everyone a little bit with all of these updates but I want to get as many in as I can before school starts back up(I’m in college and it’s a ball buster, guys) so while I have the time to write in really going to try and let the creative juices just flow. As usaul, let me know what you guys thought if this one! I absolutely love Jean Grey and I knew I wanted to incorporate her in this fic somewhere.

The more mob/organized crime films and docs I watch the more I realize one underlying theme. No one wants to be a rat, and I think in all her years of being in the life she would have had that reidderated to her. So it’s not surprising that she’s so adamant about it.

I just want to thank you guys so much for taking the time to read this story. I love you all so much! Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming parts of the series! Give me some feedback if you can! You guys are the best. And ps. The next chapter is where the smut starts😉😉😉

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnesxreader #bucky barnes smut #mob!bucky #mobster!au #mobster!steve #jean grey #marvel au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #mob au

[somekindofseizure]

When the Ink Dries VI (ch 13-16)

Rated: Explicit

Thank you: @icedteainthebag for brilliant feedback and guidance

Warning:  This story contains many potentially sensitive topics, too many to separately mention.  Read cautiously or have a friend vet it for you if you’re sensitive to something in particular.

Apology:  for it taking so long.  I recommend a refresher, if you can stand it, of at least the most recent chapters.

Read the previous chapters here

*****

Chapter 13

 Mulder was on the porch when he got the phone call, the shrill landline ringer pricking the post-midnight air from behind the screen door like a chorus of crickets.  Out here in the middle of nowhere, it seemed a new species of bug came into existence once a week.  They used to refer to the place where he was sitting as Scully’s spot - now, like it or not, all the spots were his.  He’d been watching the driveway like a Golden Retriever every night since she moved out, faithfully expecting his vigilance to bring her back sooner, full of self-pity and priding himself in his loyalty.  The past couple of years, it seemed like he was busy anytime she was sitting out there.  But the tasks on his to-do list which were once so important only held his attention so long as the smell of her shampoo still hung in the doorway over her empty coat hook.  Once that was gone, there was nothing left to do.

 In the rush and hush of it all, Stella’s smooth, silvery voice sounded even more illicit than it did any other time - so much so that at the beginning, he’d had a moment of panic where he wondered how he’d wound up on the phone with a nine-hundred-number.  

It was a very brief conversation.  She said she was calling so he wouldn’t worry.  He wasn’t worried, he told her.  Not mentioned was the fact that he wasn’t worried because he didn’t know Scully was gone in the first place -  that’s how little they’d spoken.  And “speaking” had really only consisted of text messages.

 Where’s the dustbuster?, he’d type unceremoniously.  And she:  Under the kitchen sink, are you okay?

 - or -

 Are there working batteries anywhere in this house or do we just keep circulating them from appliance to appliance to see which can operate with the least juice?  

 In the fridge, are you okay?  

 Her question marks ended every conversation and he let them. He’d stare at them for long minutes, aching as he studied their upper curves.  He’d picture her face, the one he’d watched puzzle over mysteries of the universe for so many years, and think with sorrow and nostalgia of how stoically she coped with never getting any conclusions.  No, he wanted to say to these question marks, he was not okay, he couldn’t fucking find anything and he felt dead inside, and at least one of those two things was her fault.  But that was not a conversation to have in text messages.  So he’d just go get the dust buster or the batteries and feel satisfied that somewhere, she was feeling guilty, and guilty that that satisfied him.

 When Stella hung up abruptly, he stared at the arched plastic back of their archaic telephone and thought of the few other times he’d spoken to her on the phone.  Most of the time, it was because he’d answered and was saying hello before he passed her off to Scully.  Or because Scully had handed it to him to explain his own latest confounding endeavor. Most of the time.

 *

 He’s holding her right hand with both of his and his legs press against the side of the hospital cot.  His palms have gone clammy and the pleats of his trousers have been smoothed at the knees from hours on a plane, hours in a taxi, hours in this chair.  He ignores his buzzing cell phone for the eleventh time and bends to kiss the top of her head - it seems to be the only bit of the building that smells unruined, unbroken, in need of no fixing.  She closes her eyes frequently as she speaks, as though she needs to rest them, or as though she feels put out by this whole affair, but he knows she’s really just making sure she doesn’t start crying.

 “It sounds like he was able to somehow die in your place.”

 “Mulder, that’s…” And here her eyes open as she prepares to scold him, and then close again.  “I don’t know.”

 “It’s not a sad story, Scully.  For once.”  Jesus, this woman doesn’t know how to take a win.  “He got what he wanted and you’re still here.”

 She shakes her head, swallows and he realizes, as he often does, even now, even six years into their partnership, that he’s missing the point, that he’s many steps behind her.  Someday, he daydreams, he’ll give her a ring and promise to be one step ahead or one step behind, but no further.  He knows this with some amount of certainty and zero anxiety.

 “What if… I’m…”

 And then he sees it swirling in her eyes, the blue softening helplessly, rims filling like violet bulbs in the rain to match the little spots on her hospital gown.  He knows what she’s thinking about and he has to work to subdue the automatic glee he feels whenever she’s been forced to consider fake things becoming real.  She needs reassurance now, not gloating.

 “What if you’re immortal?” he assists.

 “Like that psychic said.  I mean, I always thought he was being sweet and never gave it much thought but then… Felig made it sound so awful.  And then he shot me and I’m still here.”

 Mulder doesn’t know what to say.  It’s possible.  Anything is. But he knows, in this moment, she doesn’t want that to be the case, so he reaches for what he thinks she would say to him instead of what he wants to say to her.  The cell phone buzzes against his hip again.

 “You’re not immortal, Scully.”

 She nods quickly, four times, but then licks her lips.  And if you were, Mulder wants to tell her, you wouldn’t be like Felig.  You’d just keep finding people to love you, over and over and over again.  You would never be lonely, you would never be bitter, and the world would have done one thing that made sense.  But he decides to stay on-message.

 “No one is.”

 “Then what was going on with Felig?” she asks.

 “I don’t know,” he says and smiles, priming to tease again. It’s the only way out he can think of. “You’ll have to ask your new partner.”

 She blinks and passes a corrupted laugh through her teeth.

 “I hope you weren’t too hard on him.”

 “I would’ve killed him if anything had happened to you,” he says more seriously and she bites her lower lip, twitchy.  Though she likes - maybe is even addicted - to his passion, the reliability of it, she also doesn’t like to be reminded of how thoroughly he can lose himself or his mind.  It scares her more than it scares him, scares her more than maybe all the other stuff does.  “Luckily, he’s a bad shot.  Or you’re immortal.  Or whatever.”

 “Don’t you want to get to the bottom of it?”

 “No, Scully.  I really don’t give a fuck.   You’re okay.”

 She cocks her head, a coy little smile at the corner of her lips and it’s the first time he’s really convinced she’s okay.  

 “You might actually be experiencing growth, Mulder.”

 And suddenly, the cell phone’s buzz seems louder, or maybe it’s just that they’re both ready to hear it.

 “That’s Kersh, isn’t it?”

 “I’m sure.  My supervisor’s probably complained by now.  Backgrounds aren’t going to check themselves.”

 He’s been doing a requisite amount of sulking at his desk since his life’s work has been taken from him.  He’s been professionally frustrated and permanently aggravated, but it’s also the happiest he’s ever been.  Whatever inane questions he’s forced to ask all day, however miserable the hours between nine and five, they’re preceded and followed by Dana Scully’s warm, de-suited body (and he is making an effort to think of her as Dana) pressed and sometimes writhing and sometimes, when the stars align in his favor, slamming against him. She makes up for everything.  She is everything.  

 Which is exactly the kind of thing that unnerves her to hear. He needs balance, she tells him.  

 “You can’t piss him off if we’re ever going to get our work back.”

 He doesn’t know whether she cares more about the X-Files than she ever meant to, or that she cares on his behalf, but either way he’s moved by it.  He knows there’s a part of Scully that would be happy to do what they’re doing right now for a while.  He has never met anyone else who is perpetually tempted by boredom but always returns to adventure, instead of the other way around.

 “I know,” he says, though he feels like grumbling.  This part is their fault, not Kersh’s.  They can’t seem to bring themselves to address what’s going on between them, and for that, they suffer.  This is a good love, by far the best he’s ever had, better probably than he deserves, but it’s also a fucked up love, a weird love, a love that seems to function on its own terms like one of those sushi restaurants that doesn’t have a menu, closes for hours at whim.  He follows a long kiss on the mouth with an ear to her chest - th-thump, th-thump, yes okay.

 “Still alive?” she quips and he wishes he could squeeze her, pull her into his lap.

 “Far as I can tell,” he says and grips her hand tighter, settling for it in place of a full body tackle.

 He really only has Stella’s number for emergencies, he doesn’t ever call her himself, doesn’t dare tip the scales in any way.  But his finger finds her name as soon as he steps out of the elevator, the revolving doors whipping him like a frisbee into the city that never sleeps.  It chugs caffeine out of blue and white paper cups, churns raw meat into magic meals, spins pretzels in squalor and spotlights, makes him feel alive in the way the hospital interior made him feel dead.  How nice it would be to stay here with Scully, get her out of there and spend a few days recovering in some beautiful hotel they can’t really afford.   Watch barges pass under periwinkle bridges at twilight, go shopping.  

 This is why Stella is doing it, he knows, to be there for Scully, not as a favor to him.  But it doesn’t matter.  Three thousand miles away, someone is dismounting some poor schmuck with a hard-on and packing a bag, dropping everything for the same person he would drop anything for.  That, he thinks, has to be its own kind of love.  

    Chapter 14

  Scully sat up with her hand pressed into the cleft of the sofa as she gathered her bearings.  She felt like she’d slept with one eye open, cupped gently around Stella at the edge of the couch like a human seatbelt, worried she’d crush Stella if she really let her mind rest.  Now the cushion was cool already, almost as though Stella had never been there, as though Scully had imagined the warm wounded body inhaling and exhaling its tacit trust, as though she’d drunk-dreamed the scene on the carpet. She knew she could not blame the drinking.  She’d only had one glass of red wine and a finger of Scotch.  The finger itself had done all the damage.

 The youthful thrill of a rebellious night ran up her spine as she looked herself over:  blue sweater split down the middle over her bra, the skin on her lips raw under the pads of her fingers, and bottom half bare but for a mauve mouth-shaped welt on her inner thigh (so much daintier, more delicate than the ones she was used to.) But Scully had never been very good at breaking the rules, and in her stomach was the past-curfew pleated-skirt emotional hangover that promised consequences for her actions.  How many years they’d tiptoed around the invisible boundary set up shortly after their first encounter to protect their friendship as much as to protect Mulder… and last night they’d tripped it like an electric fence, taking the hard jolt it gave off again and again like adrenaline junkies, proving how flimsy it had really been all along.  

 She could not lose her.

 Scully took a deep breath and dragged the fluffy white robe folded affectionately over the back of the couch, sash tied like a welcome ribbon around its front.  She shimmied out of her clothes, blushing a bit at the ripe cocktail of sex and sweat the fabric gave off, and replaced it with the bright Fairy brand detergent scent of the bathrobe.  Somewhere upstairs, Scully knew, was a collection of these things in silk and lace - colors so faint they feigned nudity, cashmere so rich you’d be afraid to drink your morning coffee.  This had to be the most innocent of them and Scully was half-offended, half-flattered that Stella picked it for her.

 “Stella?” she called softly, hopefully, as she rose to her feet with her back to the kitchen, robe wrapped tight.  There was the sound of a teaspoon twinkling like a wind chime as she turned, a faucet whispering like an intermittent breeze and suddenly her anxiety seemed ludicrous.  Stella was leaning belly-first against the sink, looking out the window, her back to Scully as she watched her city slowly stretch itself awake.

 It was a treat to see Stella here amongst her things - her shiny, voluptuous espresso machine and her svelte heavyweight silverware.  Watching Stella perform her morning routine was like going to church, setting things on the altar, spacing them accordingly, sipping with reverence.  A room full of people who’d seen it a hundred, a thousand times, would do it one more time;  she was certain she could watch Stella drink her first cup of tea and butter her toast one bite at a time every Sunday til the end of time.  This is the body, this is the blood, and this, well this is my new religion: Stella Gibson, poured into a charcoal grey sweater dress, bare legs balanced on possibly the highest black heels ever made.  

 “I didn’t realize we were dressing for tea this morning,” Scully said, but she felt the smart-aleck go right out of her as Stella turned to face her, placed a backward-fisted hand on her hip so that her shoulder jutted forward. The dress was quite tight, covered skin from neck to knee -- appeared to be wearing her rather than the other way around.  Scully stepped a little closer and found herself under a jungle canopy of musky jasmine perfume.  She knew Stella only wore it when she went out.

 What am I, chopped liver? Scully had teased once or twice from her double bed as she flicked the remote at the TV.

 Unless you intend to put your name in my little black book, yes.  

 A tiny, ridiculous, starved-adolescent piece of her wanted to think Stella was wearing it for her this time, that she was preening and posing for her.  But she knew even before Stella told her that that was not what all of this was about.

 “I’m going to go into the office for a bit today.”  

 “Were you on the phone?  I thought I heard you...”

 “There’s been a homicide and I don’t want to be terribly out of the loop when I return.”

 Scully cleared her throat.  This was not going to be easy.

 “And how are you this morning?” Stella asked with a hint of impatience, as though observing a quaint Victorian social grace she didn’t personally adhere to.  “Any rug burn?”

 “I’m fine.  Stella--”

 “It won’t be the whole day,” Stella said, returning her cadence to its bright clip, honing the edges of her accent into slender cliffsides, fresh-ready for a tumble or a jump.

 “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Scully said.

 The sweater dress twisted, wringing itself at the tiny black belt banded around Stella’s waist.  She pushed her hip deeper into her hand, waiting out Scully’s censure like an aggravating little rain shower on a summer day.  Scully pressed on, stepping forward, snaking an arm around Stella like a second skinny belt.  Various beauty product scents lapped at Stella’s neck like spring’s first bloom, nauseatingly sweet but sublime.

 “Wouldn’t you rather stay and play house with me?”

 Stella granted her a tiny kiss on the neck and then:

 “No.”

 The chill of it whipped Scully off her feet and took her all the way back to a dingy hotel in Philadelphia where they’d spent their first night alone together.  The kettle of tea might well have been a sticky, lukewarm plate of pancakes, the neat brow bone sutures a spate of scars up Stella’s thigh, and Scully was as light-headed about the former as the latter.  (A student had since asked whether she’d ever gone weak about slicing up a human body.  Once, she’d said.  But I wasn’t even there when it happened.)  

What she’d done - what they’d both done - that time in Philadelphia was panic and Scully was determined not to do it again.  She poured and sipped her tea.  Ankle deep in silence, she waded toward a bulletin board that reminded her of a police station, gave her the eerie impression that Stella was running her kitchen like an open homicide.  Amidst pilates class schedules and receipts was a twenty-pound note, neat black-markered writing across it.  He that loves not abides in death.  It was from the Bible, Scully was pretty sure, John maybe.  She listened to Stella tapping the neck of her teaspoon against her glass and she took the piece of money down.

 “What’s this?”  

 It seemed like safe-enough territory.  After all, the things saved up here were the things Stella was willing to put on display.  And the thought of Stella quoting and framing Bible quotes was too curious to ignore, like finding out your math teacher had a hobby - tennis, jazz music, archery - when all you could picture them caring about was prime numbers.

 “I found it.  Outside the psychiatric hospital where they were holding Paul Spector.”

 The detective in Scully stirred and she couldn’t help herself.

 “And you kept it?”

 “Mm.”

 “Brought it all the way home from Belfast?”

 “Yes,” Stella snapped.  

 “Little sentimental for a multiple homicide case, don’t you think?”

 “Is this an inquisition?”

 “It just doesn’t sound like you.”

 Stella turned and placed her cup in the sink, ran the water hard enough to wash Scully’s voice down the drain.

 “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,” Stella said.

 A blind shot over the shoulder, but a bullseye nonetheless. Scully looked at the floor and then quickly forced her eyes back up, though Stella was not facing her anyway.

 “Don’t do this,” Scully said bravely, or foolishly.  “I’m sorry I crossed the line.  Don’t disappear on me.  I’ve had more of that than I can handle.”

 Stella’s shoulder blades rose and fell on either side of the teardrop shaped hole that buttoned the dress at the nape of her neck, her bones slithering into place beneath the snug wool weave - sometimes it was easier to see her softening than to hear it in her voice.  It still sometimes bothered Scully that Stella had to work so hard to trust her.  But it was not news that she had a weak spot for people who made her feel worth the effort.

 “I picked it up and kept it without much thought at first, and then after, it seemed too meaningful to get rid of it.”

 Scully could tell by her tone of voice that she had permission now to ask.

 “Why would you want to be reminded of him?”

 Stella turned on one hand, replaced the other one on the counter at her side.  She was like a ballerina in a jewelry box, pinned and spinning in a fixed spot as Scully wound her up.  She held her chin high, eyes bright as diamond studs.

 “Do you know what he did to me?”

 Scully had of course drawn her own conclusions based on what she could see, based on the way Stella moved and responded to touch, but she knew this wasn’t a test of her forensic savvy.  She shook her head no and locked her jaw as she braced herself.

 “He hit me, close-fisted.  Here,” Stella said and brushed her fingers along her temple.   “There was a table, here.  I felt it dig into my hip.  That’s the last specific moment I remember, but there’s video of the rest because it took place in an interview room -  interrogation room.”

 Scully looked down so as not to provoke Stella with the elevation of her eyebrows, the jutting of her chin.  What the fuck, why the fuck would she...

 “So you watched the tape.”

 “Yes.  I’m sure most of the team did.  Dani. All of them.  Wouldn’t you?”

 Scully scrubbed the discomfort from her lips, took a breath out of the room that she intended to keep.  Stella continued.

 “And it was quite a show.  There were several more punches.  Here… here… here, I think… and I fell to the floor.  It was cold, concrete, I remember that part, the shock of it after the heat of the blood bursting at my cheekbone.”

 The evenness of Stella’s voice, the poise, was unnerving, like listening to one of her own autopsy recordings, the sound of her own voice discussing death with such indifference.

 “He kicked me.  I was caught between him and the wall.  I was trembling when the other officer came to me.  Like a little dog.”

 “Stella,” Scully begged, but there was no room for her sympathy here.

 “It was the worst physical pain I’ve ever felt, and do you know what I thought when I was lying there?”  Scully shook her heavy head as gravity tugged at her whole body.  Any minute, her knees would buckle, but she had to finish listening.  “This is nothing compared to what he did to them.  Nothing.”

 Scully crossed her arms over the robe in a self-embrace and swallowed, digging her nails into the fabric to feel the pile under her fingernails, root herself in something tangible and present and good.

 “And do you know what I thought when he killed himself?”

 Yes, Scully thought, she did.  The two people she knew best were similar this way - the darkness, the self-loathing, the ability to take responsibility for things that had nothing to do with them, and the tendency not to take responsibility for those that did. The pattern on the kitchen floor blurred as all her concentration flowed toward the goal of not becoming hysterical.

 “I thought, I deserve this.  I told him exactly how to beat the system, how to beat me.”

 Scully allowed a breath, bit her lip and blotted her face quickly with the inside her wrist.  She had one responsibility here, had come to London for one purpose, she reminded herself - Stella’s recovery.  None of that stuff last night mattered, nothing she’d been worried about this morning.

 “It’s awful.  All of it. But it’s not going to avenge anything to refuse yourself the time to heal.”

 She turned to re-clip the stupid banknote to the board, though she wanted to tear it up and burn it.

“Do you think I’m capable of love?” Stella asked as Scully turned back to face her, placed both hands on the island in front of her.

“Sure,” Scully replied.  “I almost got you to love me once.”

“I don’t think I almost loved you,” Stella said.

 “Oh no?”

 Scully kept looking her in the eye to show that she could take it. She walked round to the other side of the island so that she and Stella faced one another over the moat of kitchen tile.  Her bare toes, polish uncharacteristically chipped, met the smart points of Stella’s shoes. The whole morning had been wild, flooded with emotion and Scully was comforted now by the idea of Stella’s characteristic grit drying it up.

 “No,” Stella reiterated.  “I think I did love you.  I still do.”

Scully blinked several times, her breath caught somewhere at the bottom of her throat.  

 “Why are you looking at me like that?”  Stella asked.

 The day Stella visited before taking her plane back to England, her knees rubbing the kitchen floor, Mulder’s arrival weeks later in the rain.  All of these years...

 “I don’t understand.”

 Stella licked her top lip, cocked her head as though considering a gallery portrait.  She hadn’t expected this to be a surprise.

 “I couldn’t do it the way he could.  I didn’t think it was what you’d need.”

 Scully gulped, trying to control the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes.  She could feel the tip of her nose turning red.

 “But occasionally, like when I look at that thing,” Stella said with nod at the banknote,  “I wonder if something’s wrong with me.”

Scully wanted to reassure Stella, but she wasn’t even sure of what.  So she nodded, dried her cheekbones again, for a moment unable to remember the last period of her life she had cried this much.  When she remembered the answer, she cried more.

“Please stop crying,” Stella said.  “You’re supposed to be taking care of me.”

Scully smiled, shuffled forward, closing the space between them without squeezing, by now aware of exactly where to press and where to protect.  She buried her face on Stella’s shoulder just long enough to recompose herself and then glanced at the marks on Stella’s face, so similar to the ones Ed Jerse had given her years ago.  She’d given Stella the play by play of it with her eyes on the road and a console between them, but by the end of the night, Stella would close that distance. And then some.

“Have your turn, then,” Scully teased with a nudge to the hip. “Cry.”

Stella blinked with the weight of five thousand pairs of eyelashes.

“Make me.”

Scully snuck her left hand into the dark roots of Stella’s hair, licked two fingers on her right hand.  Stella tugged her hem up with the nonchalance of a puddle jump as Scully kissed her.  Their mouths were hot, tingling with English Breakfast and caffeine.  Scully grinned as she found smooth-shaved swimmer’s thigh and simple seamless underwear, and then the wet part of her hand disappeared into the wet part of Stella.  She pinned a knee between Stella’s legs, tacking her to the sink like one of her bulletin board items.  Here is something you may want to attend.  Here is something worth remembering.  Stella’s neck tendons strained against her hand.

 “You wear this dress to work, Detective Gibson?”

 “Detective Superintendent,” Stella said in a slightly pitched voice, a tone like a meringhe, one that made her regular voice seem put-on, one that made Scully’s tastebuds dance, her hips grind.  Stella held onto the lapels of her robe like she was an airline pilot or a soldier, uniformed and disembarking.  And then she suddenly realized why Stella had chosen this particular bathrobe for her.

 “You took this. From that hotel in Chicago.”

 Stella half-smiled, pleased at her own rare display of nostalgia.

 “Had to purchase it, actually.”  She licked a small section of her top lip and Scully kissed where it left off.

 Below, Scully’s fingers slipped and pulled and Stella breathed deeply, winced from deep inside her ribcage.  Her hands seemed small and gentle as they clutched birdlike at the sagging sleeves of the robe.  What would she keep from this visit, what would she flash winkingly at Scully in another fifteen years?  Scully wanted to keep nothing so much as this, this skull breathing into the palm of her hand, this pair of knees going weak between hers and this smooth unclothed calf muscle rattling the cabinetry.  She pulled away to watch Stella’s face -- eyelids dancing like dervishes, honey-sweet beige lips parting like buttercups, the hills and valleys of her brow deepening.

 “Look at me,” Scully coaxed.  Then firmer, “Look at me.”

 Scully waited until she had Stella’s attention, waited till her breath was hitching and dragging, waited because fifteen years plus one more breath seemed like exactly the right amount of time.

 “I love you,” she whispered and Stella dropped her nose against Scully’s face, coming and crying in tandem. Her body sucked at Scully’s fingers, her face wet against Scully’s cheek, shivering and then still.  

 The silence simmered.  A clock ticked loudly.  The Bible verse loomed.  Outside, a plane soared by, yawning across the grey sky toward brighter places. Scully summoned some authority into her voice.

 “You’re not ready to go back to work.”

 Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson did not let go as she stepped out of her heels.

 *

She has been taking the stairs up to her apartment after work. If she were to take the elevator, she might meet a neighbor, and if she met a neighbor they’d ask how William was. She doesn’t like questions she can’t answer.

 It begins to smell like Stella just a few steps into the corridor. The scent changes halfway down the hallway to the fresh coat of adult-colored paint they applied over the weekend, and then to that of a smoldering pack of East London incense on one of the cheap plastic cake plates she keeps around. (Not the 26-pack of first birthday ones she purchased prematurely.  Those have mercifully vanished since Stella arrived, along with lots of other things. The smatter of baby powder she’d otherwise find on a dark blazer here or there.  The drawer full of clothes she didn’t give the Van de Kamps.  The stores of formula and diapers that used to live at the bottom of the linen closet.)

 She turns the key and finds the homey sizzle of shallow-panned garlic.  The warm breath of pasta water still hovers over the sink as Stella sets the table. Scully doesn’t know how Stella plans this so well, one foot in the door and hot food on the table.  One moment later, and Scully knows she would make it alone to her room, empty stomach, no shower, and fall asleep in her clothes. But instead -

 “Sit with me while I eat?”

 It’s the only question Stella ever asks.  She already knows how her day was, how she feels, and it won’t do either of them any good to have it declared aloud.  Scully manages a tired smile for her friend and sits, rests her weight, her day, her misery on her elbows.  Her seat is free of a place-setting, as it is every night, and she is grateful for the lack of expectation.  No one else understands her well enough to do - or omit - things like this, not her mother, maybe not even Mulder.

 Mulder.  Where the hell are you.  She barely has the energy to wonder.


Stella swirls spaghetti over her dish between a fork and spoon.  There’s a larger serving bowl at the center of the table, a decorative and deceptive thing that makes it look like they’re celebrating.

 “I heard from my idiotic sister today,” Stella says.  “She wants to race horses now.”

 “What do you mean, race them?”

 “Sponsor one.  She wants to know if I want to put any of my portion of the trust into it.”

 Scully postpones a blink, waiting for the punchline.

 “I told her I could imagine better ways to buy sixty seconds of pleasure.”

 Scully can’t quite bring herself to smile, but she does reach forward for a strand of spaghetti hanging over the side of the painted ceramic bowl. It goes down easier than she expects and she licks the sweet, tangy tomato off her lips.  

 “She’s older, right?” she asks.

 “Yes.  The pretty one.”

 Scully frowns as she takes another strand of spaghetti stranded on the side of the bowl.

 “Everyone’s sister is the pretty one,” she says and of course, Melissa comes to mind.  These days, there are a lot of spare sad thoughts, like wet umbrellas under restaurant chairs on a rainy day.

 “She was my mother’s favorite,” Stella says, leaving her father’s favorite unspoken.  Her attempts to be chatty and distracting make Scully well with gratitude. “However, now she’s bored and angry so I practice tolerance when she calls.  Even when she’s a cunt.”

 “That’s a strong word, isn’t it.”

 “No.”

 “What does she do that’s so bad?”

 “It’s just a lot of passive aggressive criticism, negativity disguised as helpfulness.”

 Scully picks at another strand of pasta and Stella pushes the serving bowl at her for her convenience.

 “I still can’t believe you can cook like this,” Scully says.

 “That’s exactly what my cunt of a sister would say.”

 Scully finally laughs briefly and then immediately wants to cry. It’s as though all her smiles still belong to William, as if they all remind her of him.  

 After dinner, Stella runs the water in the bathtub and sets out a towel, waits for Scully to pass by on the way to her bedroom.

 “Come here.”

 She closes the bathroom door behind them as though for privacy.

 “There’s no one else here,” Scully says.

 “Keeps the heat in.”

 Scully waits limply while Stella undresses her:  sexlessly unbuttons her shirt and pushes it back off her arms, unzips her skirt at the side, holds a hand out for balance. Scully steps into the flat, bubbleless water.  It has been years since Stella has looked closely at her naked and a few selfish, superficial thoughts cross her mind, immediately followed by guilt. How can she have vanity about her stretch marks when she’s abandoned the child who made them?

 She has a stray whim to pull Stella in with her, clothes and all, just for company.  She doesn’t want to be alone in there tonight.  Somehow, Stella knows this, and kneels at the side of the tub, reaches for the loofah, squirts soap onto it and begins to lather bit by bit - arms, chest, belly.  Scully sucks in her waist a moment at the tickle of it and blinks hard.

 “Mulder used to make fun of the pouf.”  

 She watches Stella hear this, hear his name, and she knows what she’s thinking, what everyone is thinking.

 “You think I know where he is,” Scully says.  “I don’t.”

 “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”  

 “I’m not.”

 Stella is watching some vacant spot in the bathwater.

 “Dana, when we first met, the night you thought Mulder and I had slept together…”

 Scully waits.  She’s not worried, but has enough sense to wonder if she should be.

 “What about it?”

 Stella shakes her head.

 “I was taking a sad bath.”  She smiles gently, gulps.  “Like this. And  Mulder walked in.”

 Scully licks her teeth, mild surprise registering.  She can picture Mulder blushing and stammering.

 “That’s all.  It was very embarrassing for both of us.  He never told you?”

 Scully shakes her head no, tries to show some appreciation for Stella’s trying to make her laugh. She closes her eyes and lets her whole head sink like a boulder as Stella sends the soap down her legs.  Stella takes her hand, holds it atop the ledge as if to remind her that eventually, she must come back up to dry land.

 “Shall I leave you?” she asks.  Scully shakes her head no, feels the heavy, wet weight of her thoughts roll against the sloped ceramic back of the tub.   She half expects to leave a dent there.  

 “I don’t think you’re ready to be back at work,” Stella says.

 “I have to.”

 “No you don’t.”

 “I don’t want to look like I’m feeling sorry for myself.  It was my decision.”

 Stella nods.  There are tiny tear-shaped drops of water polka-dotting her blouse, rings of suds round her wrists.  It occurs to Scully that this is how she would have bathed Emily, how the Van de Kamps will bathe William.  The words feel like toothpicks pricking her tongue.

 “I had a daughter too.”

 She’s been trying this lately, being cruel to herself just to feel something, just to have a reason to keep her head above water.

 “I didn’t know that.”

 “I know.  I’ve never told you because I didn’t really feel like it was fair to call her mine. I only knew her for a couple of days. But she was my biological daughter.”

 “What happened to her?”

 “She’s dead.”

 And she looks at Stella, wanting to catch the glimpse of judgement - it can be very fleeting on Stella and Scully is adamant about getting her fair share of shame.  But Stella only licks her lips and swallows.

 “Have you ever had an abortion?” Scully asks.

 “Yes.”

 Scully waits and stares at Stella, her eye makeup so smudgy she can see black out her peripheral vision. She wants to hear that Stella knows, or she wants Stella to think she knows, so she can tell her she doesn’t.  She wants to tell her fuck you for getting rid of something I would have wanted so badly.  She wants to be angry.

 “It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t anything like this,” Stella says.

 And then Scully just wants to go back in time and be there in the waiting room for her.  She wonders if anyone was.

 “I’m sorry,” is all she has to offer.  It’s precious little, but few people have even given her that much.

 “It’s all right,” Stella says with a little melody in her voice to prove it.

 “I went right back to work then too, after Emily.  And it seems only fair that I do it now.”

 Stella chooses this moment to pull the plug and the water begins to senselessly chase itself, clinging to Scully’s body momentarily before it’s sucked down into oblivion.

 “Do you think I sound foolish?  Wanting to treat my two absent children fairly.”

 “I think you probably weren’t ready to go back to work then, either. No sense making the same mistake twice.”

 “I make them over and over and over again.”

 Her body cries before her mouth does, her back convulsing off the floor of the bathtub.  She used to be able to tell what William wanted by the way he was crying.  She wonders if he would be able to do the same, what her voice would sound like on a monitor.

 Stella takes her arm and pulls her to her feet, wraps a towel around her and holds her, pressing her wet head down as she waits for the sobs turn to shudders, and then the shudders to grow further apart, kernels of sadness popping at slower and slower intervals.  She’s quiet by the time Stella leads her to the bedroom, pulls the covers back and guides her in.  Scully stares at the spot where William’s cradle used to be and remembers how difficult it was when it came time to move it into his own room, the separation anxiety she felt then, just that tiny distance.  What a fool.

 “Move over,” Stella says and climbs in behind her, sets her fully clothed body around Scully’s naked one, twisting her ankles around Scully’s like a candy wrapper as she she rests her head on Scully’s ear.  The room goes quiet as a womb.  Scully marvels for a moment at Stella’s patience and wonders how long it’ll last.

 “The dishes,” Scully says, unable to tell how loudly she’s speaking with her audience so close and her acoustics so distorted.  A hot drop of water falls from her ear canal onto the pillowcase and feels like a pool deep enough to drown in.  

 “I’ll do them when you fall asleep,” Stella says and moves her face to the back of Scully’s neck, parts her hair with her nose.

 “My hair,” Scully says, and wants to cry again.  “If I’m going to work tomorrow, I have to dry it.”

 There is a pause and she can hear the mechanism of Stella’s brain moving through the impetus to argue the larger point at stake.

 “You’ll be up early.  I’ll do it for you in the morning.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Ssssh.”  

 There are no vowels to drag and no consonants to pinch and so it sounds country-less, sounds the same as when Scully said it to her son, or when her mother said it to her, how the Van de Kamps will say it.  Scully is warm now as she borrows heat and breath and even life, rebooting off the rhythm of Stella’s thumping, whirring body.  An inhale and then an exhale.  Her crying-headache melts away a bit.  She catches a glimpse of herself in the future, okay.  

 “Stella,” she whispers as she feels her body finally settle into the mattress, the weight she’d been putting on her elbows, or in Stella’s palm, or against the back of the bathtub, now anchoring her, promising her imminent numbness.  She has never felt so heavy, not even nine months pregnant.  “How am I ever going to repay you for this?”

 Stella’s nose is against her shoulder, her lips soft.

 “You’re not,” Stella says.

 *

 Thunder shook the stiff clouds by their shoulders and lightning cracked the proud chest of the old sky open.  Scully had so far only seen the English rain dither and retreat, and this sudden show of decisiveness impressed her.  Below the window, umbrellas flared like nostrils, people scurrying and drains opening.  Commit and the world conspires to assist, said somebody.  Goethe?  Now that was the kind of thing she might have expected Stella to tack to a bulletin board, some broad-backed German sturm and drang, even some British keep-calm-and-carry-on would have been more appropriate than a Bible quote.  Scully took her book and went back to the bed.

 Across the room, Stella suffered her mandatory day off with dignity, ironing clothes with her closet door propped open, racks of newspaper-toned blouses and skirts and pants neatly lined up.  She had a tank top on now, some pajama pants, a hoodie, of all things.  

 “Looks like a piano in there,” Scully said.

 Stella gave a restrained smile as the steamer cleared its throat and dropped a silk sleeve.  She changed one white item for another slightly-less-white item with childlike concentration, a taskmaster’s peace of mind.  Outside, May raindrops spangled the streets while inside, clean, wet heat spoke sense to silk collars.  Eventually, Scully’s eyelids begged off into a nap, and when she woke, the streets were quiet, the sky returned to its thick impenetrable flannel texture, and Stella was lying awake beside her with her hand on Scully’s stomach.

 “What’s the matter?” Scully slurred.  “Run out of things to press?”

 “Yes, give me what you’re wearing.”

 Scully laughed quietly and tried to blink the sleep away. It was hard to recognize the waking world when it looked and sounded like Stella.

 “Want to go for a walk?” Stella asked.

 She felt like an old couple on the walk, like they’d done every day after dinner together for years.  They passed a flower stand with a dripping awning and bought bluebells and hydrangeas.  Stella pointed out things in the neighborhood, the shops she liked, the house that had had a small fire last year, the solid granite side of a building she’d once let a second date press her into in the dark and lift her skirt.

 When they got home, Stella set the flowers down.

 “There should be a vase here.”

 Scully laughed as Stella clipped stems.  Not a single broom in the house but a whole pantry full of flower vases.  She filled one with water and felt a space inside her fill as well - this had felt so abstract before, so impossible to articulate to Mulder.  It wasn’t that she’d needed him to Do Something.  It was that she’d needed for them to do be able to do nothing at all together.

 They ate dinner in easy silence and Scully looked over Stella’s injured eyebrow with a sharpened squint, reached for her glasses.

 “When were those stitches put in?”

 “Oh right, I missed the appointment to get them out.  It was in Belfast but I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

 “The skin is starting to grow over them.”

 “Won’t they just dissolve?”

 She blinked and cocked her head cheekily.

 “Did they say they would dissolve?”

 “Well, I had my medical doctor coming to visit, didn’t I?”

 Scully smiled.

 “After dinner.”

 They set up the urgent care at the breakfast island - rubbing alcohol and clean towels, the sterilized hot pink tweezers and sharp nail scissors.  The patient perched on a barstool, hugging the doctor rather inappropriately between her thighs as she fingered the stem of her wine glass.  

 “Hold still.”

 “Bedside manner please.”

 Scully gave her a little glance down the bridge of her nose.

 “You’re good at this.  Taking care of people,” Stella said and Scully would have been annoyed at the implied surprise in her tone, except she knew that it was a surprise to Stella whenever someone was good at things like this.  She knew what Stella really meant was that she was better at accepting it than she’d expected to be.

 “Thank you,” Scully said.  

 “Are you worried about him?”  Stella asked and Scully re-sterilized the tweezers, shifted her weight. “It’s okay, you can still talk about him to me.”

 Stella’s eyes moved like water, following Scully’s wrist this way and that as she tended to the partially embedded stitch.

 “Not in a physical sense.  He wouldn’t hurt himself.  He’s too driven.”

 “Toward what?”

 Scully knew the question was rhetorical, or if it wasn’t, should be.  Stella knew as well as anyone that Mulder had never really known what he was looking for. That was part of his brilliance, his readiness to find whatever there was to be found.  But it was also his deathknell.

 “Break, please,” Stella said sweetly.

 There was barely anything to take a break from.  Stella was drawing it out on purpose.  Scully pulled her hands away and waited while Stella sipped her glass of wine.  When she was done, she turned her chin back up to Scully and placed her hands on Scully’s waist.

 “Distracting,” Scully whispered.

 “That’s all right, I think,” Stella said in her huskiest voice. “You’re not putting them in, you’re taking them out.”

 “Bossy patient.”

 “That surprise you?”

 “I’m on the last one.”

 “This morning you mentioned the line we crossed.”  She folded the sides of Scully’s t-shirt into ripples between her fingers. “I don’t want you to worry about me when it comes time to cross it back.”

 Scully pulled the final stitch through and dabbed Neosporin on the freshly mended skin. The eyebrow glistened like otter fur, swam up her forehead as Stella raised it.

 “Are you hearing me, Doctor Scully?”

 Scully rested her hands on Stella’s shoulders, searched her face. She missed Mulder, she did worry about him, but the idea of giving this up again -

 “What if I don’t want to cross it back?” Scully asked.

 “Let’s stay in the present.”

 Scully turned and began to clean up, ashamed of her own confusion and the havoc it might be wreaking.

 “Which present?”  she asked with a self-conscious snicker.  “The one where I take out your stitches and attempt to make a proper cup of tea or the one where we have sex on the living room floor?”

 Scully stumbled as Stella hooked four fingers under the hem of her shirt and tugged her back to the spot between her legs.  The stool pressed into her lower back as Stella held her round the waist, aimed her voice like an open vent at Scully’s ear.

 “The latter.”

 Stella lifted the back of the shirt, drew an apple-sized circle on her lower back.  After all this time, Scully still had trouble remembering there was something there. She had only ever seen it clearly, straight-on, up-close once - in a photograph she’d taken from her own case file. Otherwise, it took a lot of twisting or multiple mirrors and she had simply never cared that much what it looked like.  

 Stella’s hand circled it aimlessly as her chin drifted past Scully’s shoulder.  Scully could feel her attention settling off to the side and something about the mood, the meditative tone in Stella’s voice, made Scully reach out for the shiny, sharp nail scissors still there and cover them with her hand.  Stella kissed her sleeved shoulder.  There was a long pause, a river of Bordeaux breath tickling her neck.  

 “It’s not why I have them,” Stella said.  “But I did used to like them for that, once upon a time.”

 Scully said nothing, embarrassed at her own transparency.  She was glad she had her back to Stella.  She lifted her hand off the scissors.

 “I’m sorry, that was silly.”

 “No.  I like that you look out for me.  It’s sweet.” And Scully could hear the slow, drawling smile in her voice.  “You cover my scissors and hide the painkillers… behind the coffee grinder.”

 “Not very well, apparently.”

 Scully hesitated.  She took a deep breath and measured the question like the well-formed circle of cigarette smoke she would have made similar use of at fifteen or seventeen or twenty-three.

 “Do you get tempted still?  When something really horrible happens?”  Like this, she meant, like lately.

 For what felt like hours, Stella didn’t answer.  Her chin and lips seemed frozen to Scully’s shoulder, the edge of the stool wedged permanently between two vertebrae on her lower back.  She worried Stella didn’t really want to be holding her anymore but didn’t know how to let her go.  Of course, Stella probably knew how to let go of people better than anyone.

 “Will you go somewhere with me?” Stella asked.  

 “Anywhere,” she said, and then picturing all manner of international dens of iniquity, “within reason.”

  *

 The tattoo shop in Shoreditch smelled more like a department store than Scully thought it should - its diligently practiced irreverence dripping away over the wax-pool edge of an expensive amber-glassed candle.  The walls were tastefully decorated and serenaded at a reasonable volume by a female folk singer over the sound system. The proprietor was disappointingly unintimidating -- a naughty-smiled, meticulously professional twenty-four-year-old woman with a string of lovely lavender and blue planets up her arm and an innocent name (April).  Dainty jewels dotted her face in various big dipperish coordinates.  Scully wandered the perimeter like a health inspector, trying to find something wrong to make things seem right.  Not a single sheet of wholesale sailors’ sparrows and pinups for easy drunk customers, not so much as a crack in the paint job.

 “You’re lucky you caught me here this late.  I was just cleaning up,” April said.

 Stella was flipping through a portfolio while April slowly churned her hands, trying not to seem nervous.  The Stella effect.  Scully looked at her watch.

 “It’s only 8:30.”

 “They’re all like this now,” Stella murmured.  April looked on with indifferent miscomprehension, as though they’d been conversing in another language and she was waiting to see whether it concerned her.

 Scully felt partially responsible for whatever would or would not happen here.  Generally, she felt entitled to play Responsible One, but she wasn’t exactly the posterchild for well-planned tattoos.  She turned to face them and crossed her arms.  April leaned her flop of dark hair into Stella’s frame of view, watching with self-conscious pride as her work was examined.  On her arm, the planets moved, a meteor inched its way from her sleeveless band t-shirt to her wrist.  It made Scully feel irreversibly old to picture April discovering Fleetwood Mac for the first time, hearing them on a playlist or a movie soundtrack and digging up all their songs, a dollar ninety-nine at a time, pushing each one through little white earbuds.

 The plastic page-turning was peppered with all sorts of questions that Stella seemed uncharacteristically happy to answer. They were multitasking - flirting and making decisions - this could be done now, yes there was room in the schedule, yes she’d like it to be covered at work.  On the one hand, it seemed to Scully like cheating to get a tattoo in a place that closed at the same time as a bank.  Where was the risk, the stakes?  On the other hand, somewhere on Stella’s body, there was a slice of skin Scully was never going to see naked again.  

 “Stella?” Scully nudged like the spoilsport she was accustomed to being.  “Do you want to think about this a little longer?”

 “No,” Stella said and absently patted the column of Scully’s shin beside her.  April smiled at Stella and cocked her head coyly up at Scully.

 “Your girlfriend have any?”  

 “She’s not my girlfriend,” Stella said.  “But yes, you should look at it.”

 Stella’s face was still buried in the binder, making it difficult to glare at her.

 “Lemme see,” April said brightly.

 Scully turned at the waist and quickly lifted the back of her shirt so as to make as small a deal of it as possible.  She could only imagine the judgment she was going to get from this stylish little -  

 “Mm.  Very nineties,” the artist said as though there were nothing more delightful than the nineteen fucking nineties.  “I can do one of those, if you want, so you match.”

 A little knot in Scully’s chest (of what - concern? jealousy?) unwound into a laugh.  Stella smiled and licked her lips.  

 “That… won’t be necessary.”

 “Sisters?” April prodded.

 “We worked together once,” Stella said and Scully felt herself blink an extra time.  She should have been used to it.  She and Mulder had undersold one another in introductions for years.  My partner’s in there, my partner’s been shot.  Such a small, peremptory word to describe so much. Ironically, it only got worse once they finally were together.  Girlfriend seemed trivial and partner made them feel like they were still at the FBI. Sometimes, they’d joke, roommate.

 “What are you thinking?” April asked.

 “A rose,” Stella said simply.  “I’ll leave the style to you.  I like your work.”

 April beamed.

 “What ya have in mind for placement?”

 Stella lifted her arm up in the air and pointed at a spot on her black silk crepe shirt.

 “Show me how big.”

 Stella spread her fingers right… exactly… where her ribs were cracked.  Jesus Christ.

 “Just a couple of centimeters, okay,” April said and went to prepare her station.

 “Stella,” Scully said, now quite comfortable issuing warnings. “You can’t.”

 “Why not?”

 “Unimaginable pain, that’s why.”

 Stella gave her a clear-eyed, short-tempered look.

 “Wait until it heals a little.  Please,” Scully begged.

 “Why don’t you go get us both some coffee somewhere?”

 A few feet (or meters) away, April sound checked the foot pedal on her stylus.  Scully sighed out her nose.

 “Okay, ready.”

 They got up and went to where April was reclining a lounge type chair into the shape of a table.  Scully remembered the thing she sat on in Philadelphia as a scraped up stool that wobbled so badly the artist had to slip cardboard under a leg.

 “I’m going to have you take your shirt off and lie on your side with your arm folded up over your head, like this,” she said, demonstrating. Scully watched, trying to calm her nerves by focusing on Stella’s shiny, capable fingernails on her buttons.  And as Stella’s body met the leather surface, Scully felt a strange sixth sense swoosh through her, a vivid memory of what it felt like to finally be expecting something permanent to land in her life. If she’d known then how few things she would ever get to keep, she might have gotten more than one.

 April flicked a lamp and light fell in a hot, bright circle on Stella’s ribs.  

 “Oh my God,” April gasped.

 Scully looked at the floor, embarrassed for all their sake - for Stella’s pride, April’s shock, for her own failure to hit the brakes on this. None of these emotions concerned Stella. She slunk down as the artist had instructed, hip up to the ceiling, almost exactly as she’d slept on the couch.

 “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… hm,”  April said, trailing off, her mouth making a noise like an engine struggling to turn over.  “Listen. I can’t do this.”

 “Yes, you can.”

 Stella’s translucent skin wove between pink and purple blotches and her breasts spilled from her day-off black bra against the leather table. Her eyes, when they met Scully’s, were calm and satisfied, twinkling night-sky blue as she tossed her moon-white hair up over her ear.  Scully gulped as she tried not to be taken by the beauty of it.

 “I’ve never had anyone ask me for something like this. And I’ve been asked for some crazy shit. I tatted an eyeball once.  I don’t���  I don’t know.”

 “I’m going to have someone else do it if you won’t.”

 A long pause and then April glanced at Scully, as if for permission. Scully saw no benefit in making the girl feel any worse than she did.  It wasn’t poor April’s fault Stella was psychotic.

 “She has very high pain tolerance,” Scully said.

 “Not that she knows first hand,” Stella said and then winked. “Just friends.”

 Winking.  Really, though.  April looked at Stella with a dropped jaw and wet lips, one eye nervously twitching as she rubbed her hands on her torn up skinny jeans and half glanced back at Scully. She shifted her focus back to the canvas at hand.

 “Put your hand exactly where you want it again,” she said.   Scully knew that she and the girl were thinking the same thing - just a little to the right or left and it wouldn’t have been so bad.  But Stella placed her hand right in the middle of it all.

 “Okay, I’m going to undo this,” April said with a cleansing breath, and reached back for the clasp of the bra, folded it forward carefully, so as not to expose too much, and then placed a sketched piece of parchment on Stella’s skin.  Her ribcage rose and fell under April’s hand, striped beneath the light.  “That all right?”

 “Yes, feels nice.”  

 “Compression.  Like I showed you last night,” Scully said with the pointless insouciance of a hostage. “Just so it’s clear, that is not the same as a needle burning through bruised flesh.”

 “Dana likes to play doctor,” Stella said, thoroughly amused with herself.  April was staring the spot and wiggling her fingers, as though mentally proceeding through the whole thing to a successful finish.  Surgeons did this before a procedure sometimes.  

 April reached for a drawer, hesitating only a little.

 “You mind?” she asked, and took out an already rolled joint. Now, this was a tattoo parlor.   “Don’t normally, but…”  

 She offered it to Stella, who took a drag from April’s fingers, eyes closed.

 “Mmmm.”

 April held it out to Scully.  She started to shake her head no, but to everyone’s surprise, her hand reached out to take it.  It tasted strong and peppery, nothing like what she remembered, almost too smooth. People knew too much about weed now for it to be any fun.  Not that she’d really had that much fun with it before.  She handed it back to April, shoulders finally slumping down from her ears, belly going soft.

 “Thank you.”

 “I’m going to place my hand here while I work, is that okay?” April asked, her hand hovering over Stella’s side just under her arm.  Stella nodded and April’s palm rested itself on the soft, intimate spot beneath the armpit.  The bra slipped a bit further forward toward the table.  Scully felt warmth spread from hip to hip like melted butter, her heartbeat speeding to a telling pace between her legs, her mouth watering.  She cocked her head, jerking the leash on her facial expression, embarrassed.  But Stella was staring back at her, angling her jaw like a jungle cat with dinner plans.  Scully heaved and dropped a tiny sigh.

 “You’re crazy,” she whispered, and for a moment felt like they were alone.  Stella licked her lips, shrugged the shoulder closer to her ear.  April threatened with a few more buzzes of the pedal and Stella looked down at it, lips parted, hungry for it.

 “Ready?”  April asked.

 Stella nodded and Scully realized she was holding her breath. Stella’s ribs hurt when she laughed, sneezed, hugged.  Even just now, when she had to touch the spot to show April, she was ginger about doing so.

 The pen began to buzz, at first high pitched, and then growling lower as it met Stella’s skin.  Stella closed her eyes, swallowed a grunt, held her breath a second.  The instrument went quiet as April hesitated. Scully wondered how many people jumped ship at this point.

 “No, no, just do it.”

 And the sound resumed, ink guzzling its way toward the tip of the needle and braiding itself into Stella’s flesh.  Stella’s closed eyes twitched.  After a while, the muscles of her abdomen began to tremble, fatigued from resistance, and Stella’s facial expression sharpened.  Scully stepped behind Stella’s head and and took her hand, watched her fingers turn purple in Stella’s grip.  She pulled a spare chair over to sit.  April paused and switched tools and Scully watched Stella try to catch her breath.

 “This is going to be a motherfucker,” April said and Scully sighed. Right, the color.  “But it’s almost done.”

 Stella keenly watched as April dabbed sweat and blood.  The buzzing returned and grew louder like a treadmill pumped from walk to run.

 “Fuck me,” Stella whispered.  The artist glanced up but this time was strong-stomached enough not to turn off the needle. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

 Scully bit her lip, put her free hand in Stella’s hair, found it damp, raked her fingers through the same few inches over and over without moving the heel of her hand.  

 “It feels good,” Stella assured them and Scully knew this was mostly bullshit but a little bit true, that there was a kind of purity to the pain, the way it made things like tumors and bruises disappear, the way it made you new.  And… at least, for her… yes… Stella’s eyelashes were fluttering, mouth going wide, a little croak escaping her throat.  Scully felt like she might slide off her chair, tried not to fidget as Stella moved her head slightly to make contact with Scully’s nose.  Her head smelled like gardenias and salt, shampoo and sweat, mortal.

 Finally, the buzzing stopped.  Each of them began to breathe normally again as they suffered the postcoital awkwardness of it all.

 “No bras the next couple days. It would be uncomfortable, not that you seem to much give a fuck.  But you also want it to heal nicely.”

 Scully tried not to smile as she watched Stella register a lingerie ban, surrendering the bra down her arm and covering her breasts with her forearm as she sat up and turned to the mirror to get a good look.  April looked on with wide knees, one bouncing, her black-polished nails picking at one another - a kid who’d just shown her mom her coloring book.  Stella’s expression was unreadable, as ever.

 “It’s beautiful,” Scully jumped in, unable to bear April’s anticipation any longer.  For a moment, she pictured herself living here full time, following Stella around just to reassure the admiring young women she held in suspense on a daily basis.

 Stella made some noises of sincere agreement and turned her back to both of them, folding her bra into her back pocket, holding out a hand for Scully to hand over her blouse.  When she put it on, there was the uncommon sight of fabric falling like water over the natural shape of Stella’s breasts, stopping to ripple only at the twisted-up points of her nipples.  The shirt was collarless, but Stella shook her hair like there was one anyway.  April was collecting a palmful of spotted towels.

 “Here,” April said and handed Stella the rest of the joint. “You might want this later.”

 “I don’t think we--” stammered Scully.

 “Thank you,” Stella interrupted.  She put it in her front pocket.  She left the cuffs of her blouse undone and the hem untucked.  As though, with no bra, there was no point polishing the look.  “What do I owe you?”

 The girl’s face twitched as she feigned nonchalance and shrugged.

 “Fifty?”

 “Fifty?”

 “It says your rate is one-fifty an hour,” Scully said with a glance at the time.  Her reflexes felt a little slow and blurry, but she could still tell time.  “This took what?  Almost three.”

 “Fifty’s all I’m going to take for it,” she said, appearing to think of a better, more conspiratorial argument.  “I’m off the clock.”

 “If you say so.  Thank you,” Stella said and April shifted her weight from one Doc Martened foot to the other. Her tongue played with the ring on her lower lip, toying with the possibility of  one final question.

 “Who was he?” she asked.  Stella looked down as she counted the cash.

 “No one important,”  Stella said and April nodded like she’d already known the answer.

  *

  Young people crowded the sidewalks outside every bar and restaurant in the neighborhood, talking loudly in harmonized accents, passing cigarettes and laughing in the face of their own futures.  The rain had turned the concrete the color of spinning pottery and their heels sounded wet and messy when they landed.  Scully hugged Stella’s arm a little tighter as they passed a drunk couple making out clumsily.

 “You didn’t have to tell her I wasn’t your girlfriend so many times.”

 “Hm?”

 “You heard me.”  Stella smiled.

 “I believe it was once,” Stella said.

 “I didn’t like it,” Scully admitted shyly, she hoped, playfully, watching her shoes.

 “Why not?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “I don’t use that word for people I only do things in private with.”

 “Is that the rule?” Scully teased weakly.

 Stella huffed and stiffened, feathers clearly ruffled by the topic at hand.  She turned and spoke, voice now on ice.

 “You’re going back to him, Scully.  You’re always going back to him.”

 “How do you know that I’d mind it in public?” Scully asked.  

 “And when you do go back to him, I think you should apologize, frankly.”

 “Stella.”

 “And then tell him to fuck you, for fuck’s sake.”  Her cheeks were turning pink, and Scully wondered if she’d ever seen Stella truly angry before, if every other time had only been aggravated, perturbed, mildly inconvenienced.  This was altogether different.  “This is an inane conversation.”

 Scully finally allowed the levity to leave her voice.

 “Admit it, it isn’t what I’d have trouble doing in public, it’s what you’d have trouble doing in private.”

 And that did it.  Stella grabbed her arm and stopped them both in their tracks, took her face in hand and kissed her like they were back on the Persian carpet.  Scully felt strands of cold hair, sticky as summer lemonade, brushing past the hollows of her cheeks as they coke-bottled inward, tangling between their noses and people wove their way around them like a parade of ants round a suddenly fallen branch.  Someone whistled.  

 They came up for breath, remaining close to study one another’s faces.  Maybe the answer to this situation was somewhere in the wet corners of their eyes, sitting like pollen on their eyelashes.

 “You feel all that blood rushing to your cheeks?” Stella whispered, distracted, but still intending to make a point.

 “Not all of it.”

 Stella smiled, dropped her eyes to Scully’s lips and back up.

 “Do you mind if I blush when you do it?”

 Stella thought a moment.

 “No, actually.  No, not a-t’all,” Stella said, vowels tearing from their syllables like meat from a bone. “Let’s go home.”

 Scully tried not to look away from the people who stared as they made their way forward through their audience.   It was a couple blocks before she spoke again.

 “Why the rose?”

 “The name of the last woman.  The one we got back.”

  *

  The monitors hum and the ventilation system cranks beneath the squeak of soft-soled shoes on clean linoleum, a familiar song Scully spent her twenties losing sleep to.  She cradles the morphine pump loosely in her left hand and slips her right one under the blanket to preserve the warmth where Mulder had squeezed it.  She is somewhat sorry there is no justifiable excuse for Mulder to be at her bedside rather than work.  They have never reported their couple status officially to the FBI.  She’s not even sure they’ve reported it officially to each other.  They’ve only just started, though it doesn’t quite feel like a beginning.  It is impossible to picture an end.

When she hears the high heels, she assumes someone’s gotten the wrong room, and when she turns her head and sees Stella approaching the bed, she thinks she might be hallucinating, might have accidentally hit the button under her thumb.  

“What are you doing here?”

Stella kisses her forehead and sits to her left.  The morphine gun rolls onto the crinkly hospital sheets as Stella takes her hand.

“Are you high?” Stella asks with a standard touch of naughtiness, eyes on the little black button.

“No.  I’ve barely used it.”  This statement is not without a bit of regret.  There’s a part of her that keeps hoping she’ll need it so this would make some sense.  A shot in the gut should hurt more.

“You look exhausted,” she tells Stella to take the attention off herself.

“I just got off a plane. Mulder called me.”

Scully feels her eyes go wet immediately.  They’ve been brimming for days – Felig’s morbidness, his loneliness, her own confusions and ultimately, fear.  She hopes if he really was able to “take” death for her, that it suits him as well as life does her.

Stella intertwines their fingers, careful not to disturb the IV, brings their joined hands up to her mouth. Scully can feel Stella’s lips trembling against their combined knuckles, her teeth setting playfully there as she pretends she’s going to bite Scully.  She’s hiding.

“I thought you were dead,” she croaks, nose between Scully’s second knuckle and one of her own. Scully knows Stella is not embellishing about this. Mulder has a way of starting a conversation at the wrong end. Scully-got-shot-long pause is how he would’ve put it, waited for Stella’s stunned what to share the fact that she was fine.  Stella swallows and her regular voice returns.  “I’m going to kill him when I see him.”

“I know that feeling.”

Scully weighs the next part, doesn’t want to have to explain it all right now.

“I don’t really need to be here.”  Stella doesn’t need to be told twice.  Her hair looks slightly green under fluorescent light and her shoulders go high and tight whenever she looks at the IV stand.

“Then let’s go.  I’m at the Royalton.  There’s a fireplace.”

“I don’t know… how to ask them to leave.  I got shot yesterday.”

“Don’t ask.  Tell.”

Scully licks her lips and chews a bit of chapped skin there. Stella reaches into her purse and hands her a luxe ginger-flavored lip balm to apply.  She looks more tired than Scully knew she could, blue eyes draining grey into the collar of her white silk shirt.  She seems to melt toward Scully’s bed, slowly lowering her head to the cot, drapes herself over Scully’s body.  The chair howls against the floor as she moves it closer.  Scully takes her right hand from under the blanket so that she can wrap both arms around Stella, clasp her hands between Stella’s shoulders. Her spine rises and falls beneath Scully’s forearms.

“I’ll tell them for you,” Stella says.  “In a minute.”

Scully knows this will make no difference.  The only people they’ll listen to are wives and husbands and parents and children, the official relationships of the world.

“A fireplace?  A real one?”

“Mm, they come up and light it for you.”

She doesn’t have official relationships.  But what she has might be even better.

 Chapter 15

Chapter 16 

#wtid #stella and scully #msr #stella and mulder #the fall fic #xfiles fic

[thesamesandwicheveryday]

5.

After a day of incredible pressure and its different pains, one after the other, follows at least one or two hours of what I can only describe as a kind of ritualistic stateliness; I’m currently working on my posture and self-restraint sitting upright in a computer chair, and whilst there are a good three or four inches between my back and the back of the chair, I’d say enough room for a cushion, I am not utilising a cushion, because I am working on myself, and if I can sit like this as if a cushion were really there, then I’ll have the grace and elegance of a dancer, and not only will I have the grace and elegance of a dancer, but I’ll have the restraint of a monk, and I will learn to find gratification in the simplest of ways, like once every 90 minutes when I feel gratified by just leaning back. In this spirit I’ve got a bottle of Riesling open, but I’m only drinking one glass per half an hour. There’s Mavrodaphne in the cupboard, but that’s more a me-and-Will drink, we’ve got a joke about it now, we even text about the Mavrodaphne. The last time he mentioned it I texted him back saying “Mavrodaph’ me” and he texted back that he laughed aloud, and I really think when someone takes the time to say “I actually laughed out loud” instead of “lol”, they truly must mean it. And there’s probably something in that, some profound key to understanding sincerity and humanity, but I’m not going to go into that now, not with the day I’ve had. No, I can leave that kind of heavy thinking for another day; that’s a Wednesday kind of a task. My first pain was planning a Monday lie-in yet waking up inexplicably at 8am after a missed call from a number I didn’t recognise that didn’t leave a text nor answer the phone when I called back but did in fact leave a voicemail though I can’t access those because it’s 2018 and leaving voicemails is disgusting. I don’t know if the cultural hatred of Mondays has become a superficial preset in all adult humans or if it really is as bad a day as we all think it is, because I don’t have a nine-to-five nor a structured work schedule and I hate Mondays, but the call waking me up and me just knowing I was waking up into a Monday prevented me from falling back asleep again. I try not to be superstitious so I’d be interested in learning the metric factors of how precisely one measures a “bad day”, why Monday is the worst. Why not Thursday? Tuesday’s a bum-note. I’ve never been hugely keen on Saturdays. I digress.

After my rude awakening I walked from my bedroom to the living room naked as the blinds were all shut and I’m a really naked person. There are low beams in my living room, these charming, great slabs of thick branch supporting the roof, and whilst they’re certainly characterful, I have to be aware of them all the time or else I’ll bang my head, like I did today, naked, gripping my head with my right hand, dropping my phone on the hard floor in doing so, not breaking the screen at all but there’s a scuff now in the corner that I can only challenge myself to stop thinking about. I tried calling Will a first time, and I got his voicemail: “Hi, this is Will, looks like I’m busy, if it’s an emergency call 999, they’ll be better qualified to deal with it than me”. Hilarious, Will, but I just banged my head on my roof beam and fell over like a naked Buster fucking Keaton, I have no time for your jokes and your japes right now. I tried a second time, then after my morning coffee a third, but still Hi this is Will, Hi this is Will, Hi this is Will. Eventually, as I was forcing myself to eat a bowl of muesli for the sake of health and also hating myself, he texted me: “Can’t talk now, Esther’s come over, had a fight with her mum or something, crying a lot, you know how she gets. Lemme give you a bell when I’m about. W. -X” And this had several flaws. Let’s start from the end and work our ways back. “W.-X” — why is he signing off like that, still, after four massive years of knowing me? Why does Will always have to end texts like he’s closing a deal? Just close me off with the initial and a kiss and — much worse — a full stop between the two? Distanced once more with that, let’s be honest, quite egregious dash? Is he proving some kind of point about being that crucial whole decade older than me, that self-righteous kind of, “oh look at me I love grammar” bollocks, that kind of “I don’t use Face-tube” or “I saw something on the interwebs” humour that the middle-aged employ to indicate superiority? Is that what that is? Because I’ve always wondered it and today I really had to think about it, and I figure it’s because he’s spending the day with Esther who’s always been that bit more Will’s brood, another late-30s horse-girl, another Oxon (that’s the name they give to people who graduated from Oxford and that’s something I have to fucking know), you know I think the only reason he married her in the first place is because it looked good on paper, he’s as good as told me that to be frank, and yeah maybe she is crying today and maybe she’s had a fight with her mum but that’s Will’s job how? Esther, sweetheart, darling, it’s over — and Will’s got the decree absolute to prove it, honey, sweetheart. And because of a fight with her mother? Everyone fights with their mother, I do nothing but fight with my mother but you don’t see me saying to Will “oh Will please can you come over and hold me? My mum still doesn’t love me and doesn’t even respect me”, do you? No you don’t, no matter how true that is, because Will’s not my dad. HE’S NOT YOUR DAD, ESTHER. 

And “can’t talk now”? Can’t, or won’t? Why would he write that like I’m placing some mad demand on him when I so very clearly am not? So many times we call each-other and there’s a dead end and it’s always something really innocuous that neither one of us feels the need to explain, we’re not married, and even if we were — the point is, he really felt like he had to say “can’t talk now”, like he’s really frazzled by me at 9am, and I even wonder if that’s for Esther’s benefit, like if she looks through his phone again she’ll see he’s at least been a little cold to me, and she’d love that wouldn’t she. Oh, but Esther’s sad again and so the world must spin off its axis because she’s sad again, Esther’s come off her Prozac, Esther’s cat’s got diabetes, Esther’s troubled by world news, Esther’s accidentally lost weight and now needs new clothes. I thought this whole Esther saga was over, I thought she'd get the hint that once you’ve put legal proceedings into action to separate yourself from someone, the message would hit home loud and clear, but no. Esther needs new brake-lights on her car. Esther’s tripped on an avocado skin and fallen down a haunted well. Esther’s been possessed by the great and powerful Beleth and needs a lift home from the exorcist’s bungalow. He’ll call me when he’s free, capital-double-you-dot-dash-capital-ex. And you’d think I’d get my sandwich and that would make me feel better? Well that's what I thought, too. Eventually I got dressed into the first t-shirt and jeans I saw lolling outside the clothes hamper and got out of my flat as quickly as I could, hoping to save the day before it fell into utter ruin and developed the ability to cause me real harm. The walk from my flat to the market is only a short one and is even shorter angry. I felt as if when I got through the door of the place I suddenly slipped outside of myself, but unable to look back in I instead disappeared, and when I returned back into my host body, I was looking at my reflection in the glass display of vanilla slices at my sandwich stall. I looked flushed. I looked hungry. I was ravenous and needed to see a friendly face. Of course today was the day they let just whoever walks into the market serve sandwiches, it seems, because I was met with a smiling boy-child, with biro scribbled onto his hands. He had mid-brown hair coming down about one inch above his shoulders, I’d say he was into day 10 of not washing it, the kind of bleary eyes that seem used to glasses and look unsettlingly beady when unframed, an unremarkable nose and an offensively weak chin, and whilst it sounds as if I’m describing a hapless teenager with great insensitivity you may in fact be relieved to learn my utter contempt here is directed toward a whole adult human who, if I were to conservatively guess, would be somewhere around the 27 years old marker. 27 years old and an untucked, short-sleeved, blue cotton dress shirt, like some bizarre attempt at formality, what was he, on his way to an interview for a different job or something? Judging by the outfit, a job as a white plastic patio furniture salesman? I wish I'd seen his shoes, they might have saved him, but as he stood, six foot tall before me, his bottom half was hidden behind the counter, so I had to assume he was wearing tan Caterpillar boots with striped yellow and black laces, and on that probably quite correct assumption, I hated him. He asked me my sandwich order and I told him, pretending to be shy to mask my escalating rage, and he threw the thing together like it just didn't matter, and when he asked me why he hadn't seen me round here before I don’t know how I found the strength to sweetly reply, “I just moved, yeah, used to live in Manchester but I’ve always fancied myself as a country mouse” with a smile, so convincingly he introduced himself as Greg and started suggesting local pubs to me, especially the Golden Lion because “you look cool, and they do a lot of cool nights there”. Cool, cool, cool, Greg, thanks for the tip, Greg. I asked him, “I come here every now and then for my lunch and haven't seen you before either?”, and he told me he's helping is mother out who’s at home in bed, sick. I told him that was really sweet of him and he crumpled in on himself slightly and said “nah”, as he limply placed the white, paper sandwich bag onto the counter, because I didn’t want him putting it directly into my hands and therefore did not offer my hands out. I waved goodbye after wrapping the conversation up with false platitudes, and thought again about the Caterpillar boots he might have been wearing, and thought about the beam in my living room, and thought about how many steps I would have to climb up to get back home and eat my sandwich. I made it to the top of my 39 stairs and into my flat without spontaneously combusting, and I sat behind my living room door with my knees up to my chest eating my sandwich which was, predictably, not that great. The onions this time were on the very top layer, the ham beneath those, then the lettuce underneath the ham, then the tomatoes, then the bread, like the whole thing was upside down. I thought about flipping the sandwich upside down to salvage this terrible situation into a bearable one but then the rounded-top half of the bun would be on the bottom, the flat half on the top, and I wasn't about to start creating my own problems. So I ate it, and it was fine. Which would be fine, but I’m not one to settle for fine. Today’s just been really hard. So here I'm sat with my Riesling and my good posture, looking at the long shadow my straight torso makes on the wall by the light of my reading lamp, and I just tried to call Will again, watching the shadow turn angular with my elbow’s movements like an old, German expressionist movie, but this time it went straight to voicemail and immediately I received a text saying: “Can I call you later?”. Will has turned his auto-reply on, and is no longer taking calls today. I’m breaking into the Mavrodaphne, and I'm going to apportion 14 cashew nuts for myself but first I will lean back for a good, long while. I won't call Will again. It’s really none of my business. My head just hurts from the knock from earlier, and I didn't like my sandwich at all, really. 

[missbaricade-blog]

Johnny X OC

Chapter 5 Rebecca wakes with a start when she hears a door slam shut. She looks around the room for maybe someone braking in. No one. She looks over to the other side of the mattress thinking Paco was up, but he wasn't. His sleeping naked body lay dead to the world next to her. She hears faint footsteps pacing back and forth. They sound quick and frantic. Rebecca sits up on her hands and knees. Her ears turn in every direction. Listening for anything and everything. In the apartment complex they live in she has to be ready to shoot, but this felt different to her. She carefully gets off the mattress and puts on Paco's hoodie. The hoodie is huge on her. It covers everything and goes down mid-thigh. She opens the bedroom door and walks out on her tiptoes. She quietly shuts the door back and tiptoes into the tiny living room. All of her senses are buzzing. Her ears turn every direction quickly as her eyes thoroughly scan the room. She honestly feels scared hearing the footsteps louder now. Her claws are out and shes ready to fight. She's in the kitchen heading to the door. She's not going to open it. She wants to make sure whatever's out there stays out there. She's three feet from the door inching her way to it. All of her senses are blasting sirens at her. The footsteps stop. A bang can be heard from the outside like someone fell against the wall. Rebecca stops and listens. What feels like forever to Rebecca is only a few short seconds. She hears crying, not just a few sniffs no. Someone is crying their heart out. Rebecca's body moves on its own. She quickly unlatches the door and slings it open. Light pours in from the hallway. There on Rebecca's side of the hallway was a girl. Her, like Rebecca, has on a very large hoodie and jeans. She quickly turns her head to Rebecca. She's a clouded leopard. Naturally, she smaller than Rebecca. Her fur is a mess with a couple of smaller spots on her right cheek. Her eyes are so green with blue rimming around the outside. They are also clouded by tears and emotions. Her eyes were screaming in pain. Pain that was foreign to Rebecca. She bends down to the girls level. Rebecca makes I contact trying to sue with her. This calms a girl down a little bit. "Hey it's okay honey," she says to her raising her hand to wipe her tears. She jerks away from Rebecca putting a hand on her belly. Rebecca notes her sketchy movement and slowly sits down. As she sits she races both her hands, signifying she's not going to harm her. The girl watches her every move. Rebecca sits cross-legged in front of her. The girl slowly raise's is back to her original position. Rebecca put her hand on her shoulder. The girl continues crying into her own hands. Rebecca rubs her shoulder and comforts her the best way that she can. "What's wrong honey? Maybe I can help," she says to her in a warm comforting voice. Almost like a mother trying to help their child. "You can't help me," she subs through her tears. Rebecca is no hugging the girl letting her cry on her. She keeps murmuring "you can't help me".Rebecca hums to her and pet her head. Her sobbing slows to large hiccups. "You can't help me,". She says once more as Rebecca feel something hard press against her belly. The girl pulls away quickly giving Rebecca good view the nine millimeter pistol pressed to her. The girls stands up quickly keeping the gun on Rebecca. She raises her hands up as the other girl puts her other hand onto the pistol. "Please stay down here, you're a nice girl, I don't want you to watch," she says taking large steps back. Rebecca swallows hard as a million thoughts runs through her mind. The girl stops wipes her eyes, turns, and runs for the stairs. Rebecca sits there recollecting herself. She sits there, shaking, eyes watering, she's scared for the girl. The realization of her killing herself slams against her thoughts. "NO!" Rebecca screams as she jumps up and chases after the girl. Rebecca bounds up the stairs skipping two or three at a time. She trips every once in a while, but she gets back up and continues her pursuit. She slams her body against the door as she turns the door knob leading to the roof. She stumbles, but regains herself. Her eyes look onto to the figure on the edge of the building gun in her hand. "No, don't!" Rebecca screams. The girl turns around face is red and fur stained by tears. She points the gun to Rebecca again. "I told you to stay," she sobs out. Rebecca holds up her hands and slowly makes her way to her. "STOP!" She screams at Rebecca. She stops on a dime. Rebecca starts looking around at the other buildings. Beside them was another apartment building. A window with the curtains open as a woman watching on the phone screaming at someone. Her husband watches in shock. Rebecca's eyes return to the girl she takes in a deep breath. "It's okay. I may not be able to help you, but there's other people who can and will," she says to her. "Like who? My family? They abandoned me and wished for my death, I have no one! Not a single soul! My life has been destroyed by the one I loved. I can't live like this, I –" she's cut off guard by police sirens. Rebecca jumps at the noise. "Don't do this, you can start a new life," Rebecca please to her. The girl stares into her eyes slowly lowering the gun. They both hear feet bounding up the stairs. The girl whiles her eyes and quickly puts the gun to her head. "I'm sorry," she says pulling the trigger as the door slams open. Everything slows down. Her eyes widen, her mouth opens and screams as her body falls. She feels herself being lifted up and turning away. She can't turn her head away as the police run to her. She no longer can see her or the police. She can't hear anything, but the gunshot. Her knees hit the roof as large body huddles over her. Rebecca stares at the ledge as tears cascade down her cheeks. She holds onto the large arms that have her wrapped up. She recognizes the sent and begins to cry hard. Paco coose to her trying to calm her down. Rebecca replays the scene in her head. She can't stop it. She stares off into the big city. The big lively city. Rebecca shut her eyes tight digging her claws into Paco as she loses all sense of reality. The next few days are a blur to Rebecca. She's been in and out of the police station stating what she's seen. Her case was clear. Paco has been silent and relatively nice to her. He cooks and buys her food. He even bought a heater for the vacant room. Today Rebecca is visiting the family of the girl. What she's gathered so far is her parents disowned her and her boyfriend left her for another woman. Rebecca is now sitting in front of the crying mother as the father hugs her. Rebecca will be crying too, but she's cried too much. Rebecca sighs and lightly closes her eyes. "Did you know, Pari?" The father asks. Rebecca looks at the clouded leopard. Sadness is written all over his face. She swallows the lump in her throat. "I only knew her by face. I heard her fight with her boyfriend a few times and I gave her some cake," she replies. Pari's mother starts crying even harder. "If only we promised to help raise the baby,". she cries out. Rebecca his eyes widen in her stomach churns. Pari's father holds his sobbing wife as a tear stains his fur. "I'll let myself out, " Rebecca says. The father nods his head and silently thanks her for coming by. She walks down Park Avenue in the calm side of town. She flips the hood up of her black windbreaker. She watches her feet as she walks. Red shoes dragging across the concrete as her tail lazily glides behind her. Rebecca looks up to see the Moon Theater. Johnny's words echo through her head. She pulls out her phone to check the time. She cracks a smirk, the first attempt at a small in a few days. "It's only 12," she says to her self picking up speed and her feet. She slips her phone back into her pocket she slips past the red convertible Chevy Tahoe. She whistles at it then hurriedly pushes the glass door open. She can hear music playing through the large dark-wood double doors in front of her. The music was hard rock, but with only guitar. She opens one door and steps inside. On stage is a young female porcupine. Rebecca silently shuts the door behind her and slowly walks down the center aisle. Rebecca knew the girl by face and voice. She fell in love with her that night on TV. "Bad company till the day I die," she sings as she plays the guitar. Rebecca stops once their eyes meet. The girl also stops. "Who are you?" She asks into the mic. The two in front that she can see now turn around and look at her. She grips her hands together feeling her face heat up behind her fur. She takes a couple steps back smiling awkwardly. "I-I..." she swallows hard, "Johnny said that I can –" she gets interrupted by a crash behind the curtain. "Sorry Meena," calls the British accent before he jumps up on stage. He smiles brightly when he sees Rebecca. He jumps off stage and runs to Rebecca. "I'm so glad you came," he says to her looking deep within her eyes. "Johnny," calls a familiar voice. Buster Moon is now standing on the table staring at them both. "Johnny, you know you can't have distractions," he says sternly. Johnny's smile disappears, he quickly goes to a face of plea and confusion. "She can sing and dance," Johnny says to him quickly. Rebecca tags on his jacket harshly silently saying "why did you do that?" Buster puts a hand on his hip and studies her with a brow arched. "Alright let's see what you've got," he says sitting back down wrinkling the gray suit. Rebecca tugs Johnny around and gives him a glare. He smiles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head. "Just try it," he says to the young tiger. She doesn't know why, but she loses all anger for him and feels light. Like when her and Paco stay up all night smoking the best stuff that money can buy. She sighs letting her arms floor by her side. She looks into Johnny's brown eyes and fully smiles. She realizes this and jerks. "You okay?" He asks looking at her in concern. "Yeah, I'm fine I just got to explain something to you later," she says taking off her windbreaker. Underneath was just a white spaghetti strap tank top tucked into her light blue skinny jeans. Johnny takes her jacket as he stares at her bare shoulders. She is toned and well fit with thick hips and thighs. Her muscles are pretty well defined. She's strong and can handle her own business. She catches him staring and looked into his eyes. Her green eyes scanning over his face. He feels high like the nights he has nothing else to do but watch anime and smoke. He quickly smiles at her reassuring her that everything will be okay. She smirks back to him before walking up to the stage. Johnny watches her sway her hips back-and-forth. She hops up onto the stage and looks to her right where the sheep is. She struts up to him pulling out her phone. She pulls up the song of her choice. The sheep looks at her phone then back to her. He shrugs and plugs it up with the A/UX cord. She struts back to centerstage as other animals gather on the other side of the stage. The feeling comes back to Rebecca. The feeling of this is what she wants. She takes a deep breath and get a signal to play the song. She has memorized the entire dance to the song. Every dip, turn, bend, strut, arm movement, everything. She doesn't miss a beat, it isn't until the chorus that she begins to sing. "Baby boy make me lose my breath, baby boy lose my," she sings along. She continues singing as she dances to it. She lets the music take her over. She doesn't stop until the song is over. She stops once the song does. She looks down at Buster. His face is pure shock with his mouth a gape. Rebecca takes deep breaths trying to regain her natural breathing. A slow clap erupts from the male gorilla in the middle isle. Just as he starts it the others join in. Rebecca blushes through her fur as she smiles shyly and grips her hands together. Johnny jumps up on stage, her jacket hanging off his right shoulder. "Wow! What was your name again kid?" Beater Moon calls up from his desk. A red fox walks up to her and hands her a cold water. "Rebecca," she says proudly as she twists the cap off. She chugs a quarter of the water he gave her. "Well, Rebecca, how would you like to be in the show?" Buster Moon asks her. She nearly spits out her water at the words he just asked her. She swallows the water quickly. "Yes, yes! I would love that," she says excitement overwhelming her. She smiles wide and hugs Johnny. He hugs back taking in the scent of her lavender shampoo. She pulls away and nearly starts jumping in excitement. The other animals come to center stage to meet her. One-by-one she meets and greets all of them. She looks to Johnny with a warm hearted smile. He gives her one back. She silently thanks him before looking back at her new friends. "Not a fairytale, but this does have a happy ending at last," she thinks to herself.

#johhnnythegorillasing #johnnythegorillaxoc #johnnythegorillafanfic #johnnyfanfic #singjohnnythegorilla #singfanfic

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Seven

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and smut! 

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

It was Louis and El’s first real weekend without Eliza May. Eleanor was taking it much better than she thought, probably since she’d be able to drink alcohol, and then she could just pump and dump. Her and Louis were getting their costumes on while you and Harry were doing the same.

“Will people even know what who we are?” He asks.

“Of course! We looks so cute too.” You kiss his cheek. “Now hold still so I can put your makeup on.”

You both walk out of your bedroom and see Lou and El in the living area, hanging out with Buster. They were dressed like their favorite soccer players. You and Harry were dressed up like Max and Roxanne from a Goofy Movie.

“You two look so cute!”

“Thanks!” You beam. “It was so easy to put together too.”

“You both ready?” Harry asks.

They both nod. You and Harry say goodbye to Buster, and across the street you go. When you walk in you see Niall dressed as The Flash and Wonder Woman.

“Now these are costumes.” You say, hugging them both. “Well done.”

“Look at the two of you! Very creative.” Sarah says. “Go get a load of Rachel and Mariah, they’re Harley and Black Canary.”

“Why did we not get the super hero memo?” Harry asks.

“None of us discussed it I swear!” She says.

You got find the two of them and say hello. You take a ton of pictures with your friends, and they make sure to take plenty of you and Harry. You feel sad when you see your friends taking tequila shots. Even Harry and the guys were drinking heavily.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Eleanor asks you.

“Um…not really, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s a stupid thing to be upset over.”

“I’m sure it’s not.” She smiles.

“I’m…on a specific type of medication that I have to take every day, and I can’t drink alcohol while I’m on it. I haven’t really drank since my birthday, and this is the first time I feel sad about it. I’m having fun, but…” You both look over at everyone. “I’m not having that kind of fun.”

“Well, I haven’t started to drink yet, so I won’t.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I really don’t mind. I made it nine months, remember?”

“Thanks.”

Niall and Sarah’s place was packed with people, and your very drunk fiancé was grinding on you while you danced. You could feel him growing harder against your ass, and it was starting to annoy you rather than turn you on. You turn around to face him.

“I’ll be right back, I need to use the bathroom.”

You step away from him and go down to the hall bath. You take a deep breath as you look at yourself in the mirror. El grabs Harry’s wrist before he can follow you.

“What?”

“I think you should start drinking some water.”

“Why?”

“Because…she told me she’s sad everyone’s having more fun than her.”

“She did?”

“Yeah…everyone’s pissed but her, Harry. Look around.” She gestures around to the people at the party. “She feels left out, H, and you’re not helpin’.”

“Shit.”

Harry stumbles into the kitchen and gets some water. You find him in there.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’, just think I’ve had enough is all. I have a plan to catch tomorrow, no need in havin’ a hangover, right?”

“Y/N!” Sarah says. “Come do a shot with Rach and I.”

“I can’t, Sarah.” You mumble.

“Why not?” She pouts. “Oh! Are you still taking that medication?” Your eyes widen and you look up at Harry.

“Sarah.” Niall grabs her by the waist. “Leave her be, alright?”

“Yeah, leave it alone.” Rachel says.

“All I did was ask her a question.”

“An invasive one.” Niall says. “If she doesn’t want to drink she doesn’t have to.”

“Will you all please just stop?!” You had enough. “I’m not some child you have to overprotect! You wanna know why I can’t drink? I’m on a medication to make it so I don’t black out and hurt Harry again, okay? I had a really bad flash months ago and I slapped him! My therapist prescribed it for me, and I can’t have alcohol with it because it’s also an antidepressant. Are you happy now?! I’m so fucked up in the head that I need pills to keep myself from doing something stupid!” Your eyes were glossy, and you were filled with rage.

You brush past all of them and make your way to the front door.

“Fuck, Sarah, you can have a real big mouth sometimes.” Harry says. “You couldn’t have just listened to your boyfriend for once? You’re always doin’ that to him, as if he doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about.”

“He doesn’t know her better than I do.”

“No? I’m startin’ to think he’s the only real friend she has. Excuse me.”

Harry goes after you and leaves.

“Babe! Babe!” He runs down the hall and catches the elevator door. Your arms were crossed and you were crying.

“I feel like such an idiot. I ruined everyone’s good time.”

“No, honey, it’s okay.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest.

“You were having fun though, and then I just blew up. I should go apologize.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Maybe tomorrow when there isn’t a huge party happening you all can talk, but right now we should just go home.”

“What about Louis and Eleanor.”

“I gave Lou a key in case we left at different times, it’s all good.”

You and Harry get in the door, and you both say hello to Buster before going to wash all your makeup off. You hear Louis and Eleanor at one point, and Harry goes out to say goodnight to them. He kisses you to sleep. You would have let him love on you a little more, but you had your period. Not great timing before his trip to Wisconsin. He didn’t mind just holding you close to him though. It was what you needed more than anything.

//

“You’ve barely said anything to me since they left…” Sarah says as her and Niall get into their bed.

“I’m not quite what to say…”

“I’m going to apologize to her tomorrow, I know I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were.” They both lay on their backs. Niall turns to look at her. “You really don’t listen to me often. You always think you know best…it bothers me. It’s like you don’t value what I have to say.”

“I’m sorry.” She turns to face him. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“I know you and Rachel are her best friends, and I know you both mean well and care about her…but Y/N and I got really close after everything happened. I’ve seen her in some different ways. I just wish you had let her tell you instead of making her so upset she blew up.” He sighs. “And now Harry’s goin’ away for a few days…you’ll need to fix this, Sarah.”

“I know, I know. I feel terrible okay? I got too drunk, and-“

“Yeah, but you should have known not to bring it up from when we went to Homecoming. That’s the annoying part. You were told to let it go, and you didn’t. It’s like you’re not used to bein’ told no.” He huffs.

“Well, to be fair, I’m not.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, Niall. I was an only child, I was a rainbow baby…admittedly I was a little spoiled.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a fuckin’ adult now. You’re twenty-five years old, grow up.” He huffs and turns away from her, leaving her speechless.

She sighs and rolls to her other side. Niall rarely got mad at Sarah like this. She was his baby girl, and she knew she fucked up with you.

//

“Please call when you get there.” You tell Harry and Louis the next morning.

“We will, love.” Harry says, giving you another kiss goodbye. “I love you, be good.”

“You be good too.” You wink at him.

“My Lou.” Eleanor and Louis share a nice embrace, and just like that the boys are out the door. You sigh heavily. “They’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know. I’m more so sighing because Sarah will be here any minute.”

You and Sarah sit out on the balcony while El FaceTime’s with her mother and Eliza May.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N…I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“I just wasn’t ready for you all to know. It’s embarrassing…”

“No! It’s not, it’s super normal to-“

“I know it’s normal, okay? I just feel like it’s another thing with me. I feel like there’s always something going on with me so I didn’t want everyone to know just yet.”

“I’m sorry. I think I got pushy because you didn’t tell us about what happened to you right away, so any time I feel like you’re keeping something I think it’s the worst possible thing and-“

“But that’s still something I needed time to tell you.”

“I know.” She looks down and then back to you. “I wasn’t a very good friend last night…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…you were drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse. I had no right.” You smile at her and give her hand a squeeze. “So…the meds…they help?”

“Mhm, a lot. I haven’t had a flash since I started them.”

“That’s great!”

“It wasn’t all on you last night either. I was jealous that you all were having fun. I was having fun too, but I do miss getting buzzed. And Harry was drunk, and I love him when he’s drunk, but I got annoyed, and-“

“It must be really hard…we can all try to stop.”

“No, I don’t want that. None of you need to change things up for me. Just stop asking me if I want a drink.” You smirk.

“Deal.”

//

Louis taps on Harry’s shoulder to get his attention. He takes his earbuds out and pauses his movie.

“You know you don’t have to ask if you want to cuddle.” Harry smirks.

“Maybe later.” Louis laughs. “I thought since we’re up in the air now and you can’t escape, I could talk to you about somethin’.”

“Oh Christ, what is it?”

“Well…you know how mine and El’s wedding will be in the U.K.?”

“Yeah…?”

“We won’t be comin’ back to the states after.”

“Yeah, you mentioned you might honeymoon in Spain, right?”

“Yes, but after that…we still won’t be comin’ back to the states, mate.” Harry’s face falls. “Her entire family is over there, we don’t have anyone here.”

“You have Niall and I…”

“You both are two hours away, you might as well be across the pond with her family. We both want Eliza May to grow up with family. I may not have a mum and sister anymore, but Eleanor does. This is important to both of us. I can freelance anywhere, that’s the beauty of it. And she’s already lookin’ for jobs in London. We’re hopin’ to live just outside the city near her family.”

“But…what about Freddie?”

“To be honest Bri was only stickin’ around here for me…she works remotely, and she said it would be easy for her to switch to London time. She’d move out there, I think she’s been wantin’ to go back too. It’s time, Harry.”

“Lou…I…”

“Just think, when you take your long trips we’ll be able to see each other. I’ll be able to see Mitch and Sarah, and I can check in on your mum.”

“I guess that’s true.” He sighs. “I know this is somethin’ you have to do…but I’m not excited about it. I mean…”

“I know you’ll miss Fred and Eliza May, but we can keep FaceTiming like we do now. Not much will change, you’ll just need a plane when you want to come visit, and so will I.”

“Suppose I’m used to missin’ yeh already.” He shrugs. “Have you told Niall?”

“Yeah, he knows. Told him over the phone. I knew you’d need a bit more attention.” He smirks.

“Gee, thanks.” He rolls his eyes. “So…you’re not movin’ before the wedding?”

“No, El wants to make sure she has a job lined up and all that. I mean, we could, but we have an infant and it would just be a lot. She’ll be goin’ back to work soon…it just gives us more time.”

“Well, we better fuckin’ hang out a ton while we’re still in a close proximity to each other.”

“Deal.”

//

After Sarah left, you and Eleanor went take Buster for a walk. The air was brisk, but it was nice. You loved the fall weather. She looks at her phone and sees a text from Louis.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I have somethin’ to tell yeh, and Lou just texted sayin’ he told Harry, so I have the go ahead now.”

“Alright.”

“After the wedding, we’re movin’ to the U.K.”

“Oh my!” You stop to look at her.

“My whole family is over there. Bri’s even been wantin’ to get back there too, so it just makes sense for everyone. I start work back up in a week or so, and I’m already lookin’ for jobs in London. We just don’t have anyone here. You guys are great and all, and I know Harry’s family to Lou, but-“

“I get it. I’d wanna be close to family too. It would kill me if I had a baby and my parents rarely got to see them. Louis told Harry on the plane?”

“Yeah.”

“Smart.” You chuckle. “Probably didn’t get too upset then.”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure he’ll call you later and blubber like a baby in true Harry fashion.”

“You’re probably right. I know it’ll suck, but you guys are doing what’s best for your family.”

“Exactly.” She sighs. “Plus, going back for the healthcare alone just made a lot of sense to us.”

“And Bri’s just able to move with Freddie?”

“I guess she’s been wantin’ to move back for quite some time, but she didn’t want to take Freddie away from Lou. She’s nice in that way. I think that’s what really started the entire conversation. We’re hoping to all live outside of London so we’re still in a close proximity. Fred should be with his family too, you know?” You nod and keep walking, Buster right at your side.

“You know, when I first really got close with Niall my biggest fear was that he was going to move back to Ireland, and he very well could do that someday. I couldn’t imagine always having to fly out to see your family, and only for special occasions.”

“At least video chattin’ is a thing. It helps you feel not so left out.”

“Right…now sometimes I get nervous that Harry might want the same thing…but at the same time it would be really silly. He’s made a life for himself here.”

“I don’t see Harry goin’ back. He loves London and his family, but he’s better here, from what I’ve been told. If he really wanted to move back there, he would have after grad school.”

“You’re right.” You smile as her words put you at ease. “Well, I’m happy for you guys. It’ll really be a fresh start to your lives as a married couple.”

“Exactly! A whole new adventure.”

//

Harry and Louis both call you and Eleanor once they’ve landed. They check into their hotel, and have fun eating and drinking at the bar downstairs. What they didn’t know was that you had arranged for some other things for them. The game was two days away, so you had arranged a stadium tour for the two of them tomorrow.

They were both in awe as they got to walk through and listen to the history. Harry bought a new sweatshirt, and some other memorabilia. He finds a Wisconsin key chain he thinks you might like.

“Just a key chain?”

“I think she’s kill me if I got something that had the Packers logo on it.”

“Oh right, she’s really into the Patriots.”

“You have no idea.”

That night, they check out the night life, and have a great time just getting to spend time together one on one. It was rare, and they both enjoyed it.

“So, you’ve set the date and all that. You must be really excited.”

“We’re thrilled, mate. With you, uh, movin’ back and all, will you still have time to be my best man?”

“Of course! I may not be able to fly back for every little thing, but you’ve got me in your pocket if you wanna FaceTime me in. I’ll of course come for the bachelor party, that’s a given.”

“You better.” He laughs.

“Have you two asked Niall about officiating yet?”

“Not yet, I think when we get back we’re gonna take him to dinner. It’s hard gettin’ him alone now that him and Sarah are livin’ together.”

“Has Y/N decided who she wants her maid of honor to be yet?”

“No, she said she wants to talk to Rachel and Sarah about it. She doesn’t their feelings to get hurt if she chooses one over the other.”

“They should just make it like a rotation, so when they all get married some day they can take turns. Like if say Rachel is Y/N’s maid of honor, then Y/N could be Sarah’s, and then Sarah could be Rachel’s.”

“That’s what I think the conversation is going to look like. We’re goin’ cake tasting soon, that’ll be fun.”

“You’ll love that. It was a lot of fun for El and I.”

“You must be getting excited to make things official soon.”

“We’re very excited. Fred’s gonna look so cute walkin’ down the aisle with the rings. He tells me all the time how he’s gonna do it, and then when it comes over he struts around.” He laughs. “Here look.” He takes his phone out to show Harry a video.

“Oh my god, he’s too cute. I know it’s a lot of work, but I can’t wait to have one of my own.”

“How soon after you get married do you think you’ll get to work on that?”

“Pretty soon since the wedding is nearly two years away. I’ll already be twenty-eight, and she’ll be turnin’ twenty-seven that summer. I was hoping to start havin’ ‘em sooner than that, but she said when we go on our honeymoon we could start trying.”

“There’s really no rush for it, Harry. I love Freddie, but if I could’ve waited longer to start havin’ kids, I would have. Enjoy the time that you have less responsibility, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The boys cannot wait to get to the stadium again for the game. You had gotten them really good seats.

“She did a great job, if you weren’t already marrying her I’d say you’d need to wife her up immediately.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing.” Harry sends you some pictures of them in front of the field, and it makes you smile.

This was the first trip where Harry wasn’t totally sad to be away from you, probably because he had his best friend with him. He missed you of course, but he was with the other person he liked spending his time with. You were having a great time with Eleanor too. She stayed home with Buster during the day while you were at work. You found her to be an incredible cook as well.

The Packers didn’t win their game, but it didn’t matter to Harry. He was just so thrilled that he finally got to see them play, and didn’t have to watch on the small screen of his phone. They had to catch their flight out almost immediately after the game ended. Harry and Louis couldn’t stop talking about the game almost the entire flight home. It was a great little trip. As they touched down in Boston, they couldn’t wait to get home to their girls.

//

“Night, El.” You yawn.

“You’re not waiting up for the boys?”

“It’s getting late, and I have to work tomorrow. Harry’ll come in when he gets home.” You smile.

Your period always exhausted you. You wanted to stay up a bit longer, but you knew you’d be a zombie tomorrow if you did. You were just about to fall into sleep when you heard the door creak open. Harry was tip toeing in, and you smile when you see him quietly go into the bathroom. He slips into bed with you and wraps himself around you. You sigh happily.

“You’re awake?” He whispers.

“Mhm. How was it?” You whisper.

“Amazing. I’ll come see yeh for lunch tomorrow to tell you all about it.”

“You and Louis had fun?”

“We had the best time, thank you so much.” He kisses your cheek and then your lips before settling back in to spoon you.

“You’re more than welcome.”

“The stadium tour was so cool. I can’t wait to show you the pictures I took.”

“I can’t wait either.” You adjust back against him, and you just feel so cozy. “Missed you, baby.”

“Missed you too, angel.”

//

It was a tough goodbye the next morning after breakfast, but so it goes. You let Buster go to work with Harry. He actually missed his daddy for a change.

“Hey, Harry’s having lunch with me today, just FYI.” You tell Niall once you’re at work.

“Alrighty.” He smiles. “They had a good time?”

“Mhm, I think they both really enjoyed it.”

“I knew they’d need the alone time. When Lou told me they were movin’ back home…well, I just knew they’d need to be together a bit. And now they have these nice memories.”

“Yup. So, what are you doing this weekend? Speaking of alone time, Harry and I have been craving some Niall time.”

“Just me?”

“Mhm.”

“Friday night is usually date night for Sarah and I, but I could probably do Saturday.”

“Great! We were thinking of just going out for a simple bite.”

“Cool, yeah, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the alone time, or maybe her and Rachel could hang out.” He shrugs.

“Perfect! Just let me know once you confirm it.” You smile and leave his office.

Harry shows up at noon like he said he would, with Buster, and you two eat. He tells you all about the tour and shows you the pictures.

“Oh! And I got you a little key chain too.” He pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you.

“Aw, thank you, sweetie.” You give him a peck on the lips and add the chain to your keys. “I love it.”

“I can’t thank you enough for putting all that together for us. It was a great few days.”

“It was my pleasure, Harry.” He stands up and puts his hands on your hips.

“You look really nice today.” You had a pencil skirt and a blouse on, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Thank you.” He kisses you and you kiss him back, but you press against his chest. “That’s enough of that.” You giggle.

“One of these days I’m gonna get you bent over this desk, just you wait and see.” He smirks.

“Mhm, sure. Niall said he might be able to go out with us Saturday night.

“Oh, great! I gotta go, I have a one o’clock. I’ll see you at home, love you.”

“Love you too.” You kiss one more time before he leaves with Buster.

//

Harry’s hands were on you the second he got through the door. He missed you so much, and your period was over, so you were game for whatever he wanted to do. He had you on top of the kitchen counter, your skirt bunched up at your hips, and was thrusting in and out of you. You hand one hand in his hair and one hand on his shoulder. Both gripping at him furiously.

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” He groans. You moan your response when you feel his fingers rub your clit. “Need you naked, now.” He pucks you up, staying inside you, and waddles down to your bedroom.

You can’t help but giggle, but you’re left whimpering when he pulls out to set you down. He unbuttons your blouse and gets everything off of you. He strips himself as well, and then he’s back inside of you, one of your legs over his shoulder to get in nice and deep.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out as he hits your g-spot.

“Right there, baby?”

“Yes! Right there! So good, Harry.”

He drives in deeper and faster, making your body start to shake. You moan out his name as you release around him. He drops your leg and gets closer to you. His chest flush with yours. Your nails run down his back as he rocks in and out of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, the two of you were as close as you possibly could be.

“Love you so much.” He says into your ear.

“Love you too.”

“Love you forever.” He groans. He was starting to come to his own release.

“Forever and ever, Harry.”

He loses it and grips one of your hands as he fills you up. Your fingers intertwine as you both catch your breaths. You move to cup his cheeks so you can kiss him. Your tongues mold together and you both just enjoy the taste of each other. He pulls out of you and lays next to you, his hand drawing shapes on your stomach.

“I mean it you know?” You look at him. “I’ll love you forever, Y/N.”

“Well I should hope so because I plan to do the same.” You lean down and kiss the tip of his nose.

He watches you get up and slip into the bathroom. He lays on his back with his arms behind his head. He had the life he always wanted and dreamed of. His career was a successful one, and he was going to marry the perfect woman. You were the person he had waited his whole life for. Every person he had been with prior was just his journey to you, and only you.

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