#persian rug cleaning london

[vipcarpetcleaninglondon]

The Ultimate Guide to Cleaning Persian Rug at Home

Persian rugs are known for their textural designs. And the odds of dirt build-up are more predominant in Persian carpets (if it is not cleaned right). This means you will have to follow the right procedure for Persian rug cleaning near me.

[shinerugcleaning]

Shine Rug Cleaning London is known as Persian rug cleaning experts. Visit https://shinerugcleaninglondon.uk/persian-rug-cleaning/ to book our Persian Rug Cleaning Services in London.

[samsinghhinwick]

What to Expect from Hinwick House?

Hinwick House has been an exclusive family residence for the last 300 years. Recently renovated through the hard work, this takes account of Queen Anne Main House is spread over more than three floors with more than twenty bedrooms. Guests also have access to two clean lakes, tennis courts, a deer park, and the seventeenth-century clocktower.

At this point, more than 300 years after its construction, Hinwick House stays many of its original features, dating back to its first construction. While the estate remains a family home, many features of the estate and house now need special care and preservation.

The family, which owns the estate today, believes they are the current custodians of a fantastic piece of London’s incredible heritage. Therefore, it must be preserved with care so that future generations might derive the same happiness from its beauty.

The estate has recently been in a two-year sympathetic repair and restoration program. This was made possible because of Sam Singh. More than 120 skilled artisans and craftsmen worked daily to affectionately bring back the house to the height of its formal glory.

The valuable antiques and works of art connected with the estate have been traced to collections worldwide, re-purchased, and brought back to their original place at the house. Hinwick House has the biggest collection of antique Persian rugs, with more than 150 priceless rugs decorating the property.

Facilities

Dining for more than 100 people in the house

Fibre Optic Broadband Wi-Fi

Lots of space for a big marquee to hold events and weddings ( at special prices)

Two bars

Games room with swimming pool table and board games

50” TV in Snug

Games consoles

Working fireplaces

Several hobs and ovens

Four dishwashers

Several large fridges/freezers

Microwave, kettle, toaster

BBQ

Two lakes with rowing boat

Extra bed for a child is available upon request

Large parking area

Croquet set

Tennis court

Guest Access

Guests can take pleasure in the artifacts as well as the activities which the estate has to offer. Visitors can enjoy the outdoor facilities of a tennis court, deer park, trekking, barbeque, pond area, and croquet. Clay pigeon shooting can also be organized by the guest straight through the preferred supplier, besides being able to manage other outdoor activities.

[carpetsclinic1]

Top Handmade Rug Cleaning Services in the UK

Handmade rugs are a beautiful and valuable addition to any home, but they require special care and attention when it comes to cleaning. If you have a handmade rug that is in need of a deep clean, it's important to find a reputable and experienced rug cleaning service. Here are some of the top handmade rug cleaning services in the UK:

Rug Wash London: Rug Wash London is a highly recommended rug cleaning service that specializes in handmade and Oriental rugs. They use gentle yet effective cleaning techniques to ensure that your rug is cleaned thoroughly without causing any damage to the delicate fibers. With years of experience in the industry, Rug Wash London is a trusted choice for handmade rug cleaning.

The Persian Rug Cleaning Company: The Persian Rug Cleaning Company is another top choice for handmade rug cleaning in the UK. They offer a range of cleaning services specifically tailored to handmade rugs, including hand washing and deep cleaning treatments. Their team of skilled technicians is trained to handle even the most delicate rugs with care and precision.

The Rug Laundry: The Rug Laundry is a boutique rug cleaning service that specializes in handmade and luxury rugs. They offer a range of cleaning options, including traditional hand washing techniques and eco-friendly cleaning solutions. The Rug Laundry is known for their attention to detail and commitment to providing high-quality cleaning services for handmade rugs.

The Carpet Clinic: The Carpet Clinic is a family-owned rug cleaning service that has been in business for over 30 years. They have extensive experience in cleaning all types of rugs, including handmade and antique rugs. The Carpet Clinic offers a personalized approach to cleaning, ensuring that each rug receives the individualized care it needs to look its best.

The Rug Company: The Rug Company is a well-known and respected rug cleaning service in the UK. They have a team of expert cleaners who are trained in the latest cleaning techniques for handmade rugs. The Rug Company uses environmentally friendly cleaning products and methods to ensure that your rug is cleaned safely and effectively.

When it comes to cleaning handmade rugs, it's important to choose a service that has the experience and expertise to handle the job properly. By choosing one of the top handmade rug cleaning services in the UK, you can rest assured that your precious rug will be cleaned to the highest standards and returned to you in perfect condition.

[xtruss]

Spring Cleaning Has Ancient Origins. Here’s Why We Still Do It.

While the specific customs and practices may vary across cultures, the underlying themes of purification, preparation for new beginnings, and the celebration of spring’s arrival remain central to this enduring tradition.

— By Lola Méndez | March 19, 2024

A man washes a rug the day before Nowruz or the Persian New Year, near Kohna Deh village in Afghanistan. Known as khāne-takānī, this spring-cleaning ritual keeps evil away, so people can bring fresh, new energy into their new year. Photograph By Kiana Hayeri, National Geographic Image Collection

As the Northern Hemisphere ushers in the new season, a contagious urge to dust off cobwebs and toss out clutter emerges. Spring cleaning, a deep cleanse of one’s home, is a tradition ingrained in societies worldwide, with roots tracing back to ancient times.

It also holds symbolic significance. Viewed as a fresh start, the tradition symbolizes the transition from the dormant winter season to the vibrant growth of spring. By purging the home of accumulated debris and organizing its contents, individuals create a cleaner living environment and a sense of mental clarity and freshness.

“With each sweep of the broom and polish of the surface, we honor a tradition that transcends time, uniting us with generations past in a shared pursuit of renewal and rejuvenation,” says Danielle Patten, director of creative programs and collections at the Museum of the Home in London.

Benefits of Spring Cleaning

Human behavior is greatly influenced by the cycles of nature. In the colder months, we have less energy to spare for chores such as deep cleaning. We’re not being lazy; limited daylight triggers the hormone melatonin, which makes us sleepy.

“Melatonin causes us to feel less inclined to refresh our space. When the seasons start to shift, feelings of sluggishness reduce, and we regain energy and feel inspired to deep clean our living environments,” says author and psychotherapist Eloise Skinner. “When we refresh our environments, we can feel a sense of new beginning, or a renewed sense of drive and ambition.”

Studies have also shown that cleaning can be therapeutic, as seen by the new generation of “cleanfluencers” taking social media by storm. Millions of people watch them scour filthy homes and dole out cleaning hacks.

“When we’re cleaning, we often have to be present to the task at hand, and this can bring us into the present moment causing us to feel more aware, engaged and observant. The repetitive nature can also be soothing,” Skinner says.

Religious and Cultural Origins

One of the earliest known references to spring cleaning is found in the Jewish tradition of Passover, which is observed annually in March or April. People remove all traces of chametz or leavened bread, which is prohibited leading up to the holiday. Its removal symbolizes the haste with which the Israelites fled Egypt, unable to wait for their bread to rise before their journey to freedom.

Similarly, Catholics clean altars in churches on Maundy Thursday ahead of Good Friday, which is held annually in the spring in March or April. Nowruz, celebrated around the vernal equinox in March, involves the tradition called khāne-takānī or “shaking down the house.” People wash clothes, blankets, and textiles in preparation for this approximately 3,000-year-old holiday—which can be traced back to Zoroastrianism, one of the world’s first monotheistic religions.

Before the Lunar New Year, it’s common to cleanse the home of bad luck and misfortune in China. Known as “sweeping the dust,” cleaning makes way for the new year’s good luck and prosperity, says Patten. Cleaning must be done before the holiday, typically in January or February, since sweeping after the festivities is seen as removing good luck. In Thailand, during Songkran in April, it’s customary to deep clean homes, schools, and public spaces to purify them ahead of the Thai New Year. People toss water at each other in the streets to wash away the previous year’s bad luck and over statues of Buddha to ensure luck for the year to come.

While the concept of spring cleaning predates modern technology, advancements such as electricity and household appliances have influenced its practice. For example, before electric lights, people relied on fire from burning coal, oil, and wood to light and heat homes, which would leave behind a substantial amount of soot. Windows were kept securely closed to prevent a deadly draft from entering.

Come spring, it was pragmatic to open the windows to air out stuffy homes, remove grime, and repair any damages that occurred during the winter months. Inventions such as vacuum cleaners, washing machines, and cleaning agents have made the process more efficient and convenient, allowing for deeper and more thorough cleaning of living spaces.

[returntosaturn271995]

Thursday, September 14th: Between shit ton and infinity

Today's journal heading was brought to you by a StarComm female executive when discussing media planning over a million dollar budget. I will never get used to the way New Yorkers/New Jersey-ers swear on work calls.

Reading: The Rachel Incident (very Irish, very gay, very fun so far)

Writing: Wrote a POV chapter from that book that's been bouncing around my head.

Cooking: Brace yourselves. I'm so amazing. glazed pork belly & ramen noodles with corn, soft-boiled eggs and miso-butter Sauce. I HAND-PICKLED a Persian cucumber with mirin. This may be the best thing I've ever made. Truly a thing of beauty while I listened to an hour and a half of true crime William Thoreson III and the Bogeyman of 19th century London.

Political Awareness:

A cornerstone of the environmental measures in the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act involves the expansion of the nation’s network of charging stations for electric cars.

Sen. Mitt Romeny (R-UT) has announced he will retire at the end of his term in 2024. He called for a “new generation of leaders.”

Loving Relationships: Called Mom after her rotator cuff surgery, she's getting alll the pain meds thank god.

Cardio/Getting Outside: Ran 21 minutes of intervals and then 10 minute cool down today. I feel so much better after a two day rest period and that deep tissue massage.

Dressing Well: Out was a green floral midi dress with a slit up the thigh, large belt secured at the waist. On my run, I rocked my new "Gay for Soccer" Hat. I'm neither gay nor in to soccer, but I support the rights of people who are. Also sick of getting hit on during my runs by all the wrong people.

Cleaning: In a "uneven bangs that you just keep cutting" situation, Makenna and I tried to deep clean a stain out of a rug while maybe just making it bigger and fainter.

Meditation: Focused on deep belly breathing during my run, sat under the pier, enjoyed the view of the waves crashing in, and listened to a guided meditation on the richness of alone time. Self-connection.

Shows I've been loving lately: Community, What We Do in The Shadows

[kylerevno937]

8 Finest Carpeting Cleansers To Acquire 2022

Silk especially, is extremely tempremental so only a professional ought to be trusted with such a rug cleansing work. There are additionally a variety of all-natural fibers that just experienced or skilled rug cleansers would determine appropriately. Our specialist rug cleansers can likewise monitor or show custom blend rug creations that use multiple fibers for the exact same rug. This Rug Medical professional is a real workhorse that powered through our stain examinations and also did the very best work getting rid of both discolorations and smells. Its big containers hold 64 ounces of cleansing service significance there's less re-filling and also clearing during huge or multi-room jobs. Though hefty-- especially when full-- its retracting take care of and also big wheels make it simple to steer or wheel into a closet for storage.

The Ladybug makes use of dry steam vapor to clean, ventilate, and sterilize.

The device then draws the water back along with all the gunk.

As a result of the mediocre assembly procedure, and also the fact that it's so big it looks like a business carpet cleaner, this cleaner shed its previous spot as our best total choice.

Dip one more dry white towel in lukewarm water as well as dab repetitively, then push it on the spot for a few secs.

Just ensure you remember of which storage tank is for clean water versus filthy water.

Recreation in whole or in part without consent is restricted.

S&S is additionally adhered, fully guaranteed, as well as uses free rug pick-up and distribution. S&S is Atlanta's only full-service area rug cleansing firm that uses a cutting edge submersion laundry cleansing method. This unique hand-wash system applies an innovative, five-step cleaning process as well as makes certain a risk-free, comprehensive cleansing of all great textiles. To day, its strategy has actually out-performed all various other systems both in maintaining the honesty of the rug as well as in attaining full soil/staining material removal. Whether it's a wayward mug of coffee, a magic marker incident, or sloppy paw prints, rugs and rugs are magnets for mishaps. The good news is, there's a homemade rug cleaning remedy for practically any type of mess-- as well as the best part is, they don't need unique store-bought sprays or solvents.

Please mind that he can not move hefty furniture as well as other heavy objects. Utilize the pink switches on our site to examine real-time schedule and establish your appointment. This includes Asian rugs, Persian carpets, Area rugs and more. These items have been advised by house blog writers, editorial testers at sites such as The Spruce, and other content resources. Begin by incorporating equal components salt, borax, and vinegar in a little dish or an additional container; the Thriving Home blog recommends 1/4 mug of each. You'll wind up with a paste, which you then relate to your carpeting.

Expert Local Carpet Cleansers In London

Apply a small amount of solvent with a white cloth, then blot. They were so enjoyable, it was a pleasure having them in my residence. They removed years of wear and also dirt from our rugs. If you have not cleaned up with Zerorez, your rugs have actually never really been cleaned up.

Disappear Gold Oxi Action Rug Cleansing Kit

At Hoover, our carpeting cleansers are especially crafted to deal with those deep-down embedded stains and also germs listed below the surface area without maintaining you from you carpetings for hours at a time. Spots as well as pet messes happen anywhere and all over-- take your cleansing routine additional and also get rid of those inevitable crashes from carpeting, furniture and also even your access rug. Select from our selection of upright carpet cleansers and mobile area carpeting cleaners to locate the very best carpeting shampooer for your house. This cordless Bissell has a built-in rotating brush for deep cleansing that's simple to turn off when cleaning fragile fabrics. It includes a nubby rubber animal tool to take on messes from furry relative. Considering that it's so lightweight, it's unbelievably simple to take out as well as make use of the minute a pet crash takes place.

With our material protection items, you can loosen up and also enjoy your home and furnishings with comfort, recognizing they are well protected. Using our ingenious drying modern technology, we can typically completely dry on-site for the most part, recovering and also revitalizing saturated carpets and materials. We make use of a similar process to revitalise, freshen, and also completely clean your drapes, drapes, as well as blinds. This concentrated carpeting as well as rug shampoo utilizes grapefruit seed and orange significance to win appreciation for its stain-removal capabilities as well as absence of any type of overpowering smells.

Our initial top-rated picks, chosen by the Home Devices as well as Cleansing Products Laboratory, continue to be the very same. I am so impressed and also pleased with their solution. best I have actually utilized. the service was specialist courtesy was a 5 celebrity. best work ever before. thank you individuals Tom and also Justin. Once the devices prepares, the professional will certainly eliminate all small furniture out of his means, to ensure that he has much better access to the floor covering.

If the upholstery as well as rug in your cars and truck seem to need consistent cleaning, this cordless Hoover is the must-have home appliance to maintain in your garage. The removable battery charges in under three and one fifty percent hours as well as works in various other Hoover ONEPWR tools like the leaf blower and also vacuum cleaners. We found that its slim design and also two-foot tube make it especially fit for reaching as well as cleaning under a cars and truck's seats, inside the trunk as well as all nooks and crannies. It likewise includes a 4-inch scrubbing device excellent for functioning away to remove all dirt. Its smaller containers make it lightweight and very easy to maneuver and also store and in our examinations, tea as well as merlot spots were history. Splash the tarnish with ammonia service for all-natural fiber carpets, then blot with a dry white fabric.

If you're dealing with set-in spots on your carpet or upholstery, you'll require to pretreat them with a carpeting cleansing spray or option before shampooing your entire rug. Activate this integrated function by pulling a trigger switch on the machine, and it will spray the cleansing remedy directly onto the discolor. After a few mins, you can shampoo your carpetings as you typically would. This rug cleaner is effective, yes, however industrial rug cleaners feature a disadvantage. In your house, we would certainly suggest just making use of the device till it entirely lacks remedy.

[airbulancewpb]

Air Conditioning WPB

AC Repair WPB

During the scorching summertime period, a business air conditioning unit plays a crucial function in keeping the temperature level cool and comfy. However, have you also pictured that, like every item, this maker can likewise lose its preliminary outstanding efficiency and might break down at any factor of time? The warm and humid environment will certainly make your work a lot more difficult. You can feel upset and face problems in doing regular home hold tasks too. Additionally, if it is a weekend and you and your member of the family are spending some high quality time with each other, this unexpected failure would be a massive disturbance. Well, to avoid such a situation, it is always a sensible choice to seek advice from the professionals and go with regular exams. Undoubtedly, these tools are too valued, yet are one of one of the most imperative parts of our life. It is the duty of a home owner to preserve the air conditioning unit appropriately by seeking the assistance of the trustworthy firms on time. The specialists are normally trained and have good understanding about every minor part in the maker. You can expect to get exceptional high quality results from them. Additionally, they will certainly likewise make sure to avoid further damages and concerns in the maker.

Early discovery of the issue in devices will definitely give you a chance to conserve massive dollars on electrical energy expenses. The a lot more effective the appliance is the reduced electrical intake it has. A exam of the maker every six months will certainly make certain that the system will certainly work well for a longer amount of time. In basic words, the routine maintenance of an air conditioning unit is the crucial to high operating efficiency and prolonged lifespan. The superb solutions offered by skillful specialists will certainly lessen the probability of gadget failures, corrosion or any other problems that can activate your system thus conserving valuable time and money at the same time. Do you recognize that a well working air conditioning unit is incredibly crucial to preserve the high quality of the air in your house? Otherwise serviced appropriately, it could fail to dehumidify the outside air and circulate and stale air in the spaces. This will only create various skin allergic reactions, nose and eye irritability, high temperature and other respiratory illness. Unneeded procrastination in regular upkeep is merely a poor suggestion. It will ultimately lead your maker to failure and create severe problems to the people staying in your residence. Scheduling the air conditioning unit solution sessions will only help to ventilate great, fresh and healthy air to every edge of the area. Additionally, this will certainly likewise prevent illness in addition to other life intimidating contaminants entering your residence. If you have actually determined to go for regular tune ups, after that possibly you are bring back the devices to its very best condition. Do not bother with the costs billed by the firms as most of the pertinent service providers are known to supply ideal deals and discounts for annual repairs and upkeep. You can sign the contract and the service technician will certainly go to your position on time whenever required. https://airconditioningwpb90.blogspot.com/2022/11/air-conditioning-wpb.html AC West Palm Beach AC Repair West Palm Beach Air Conditioning WPB https://airbulance.net/west-palm-beach/ https://persianrugrepairnorthtustin506.blogspot.com/2022/11/persian-rug-repair-borrego-springs.html https://ductcleaninglauderhill486.blogspot.com/ https://ductcleaninglauderhill486.blogspot.com/2022/11/duct-cleaning-lauderhill.html https://solar-power-is-the-solution.tumblr.com/post/701175482093371392/green-energy-solar-panel-in-london https://persianrugrepairwarnersprings722.blogspot.com/2022/11/persian-rug-repair-borrego-springs_0481713727.html

[ductcleaningexpertsfl]

Duct Sealing Lauderhill

Air Duct Purifier Lauderhill

A duct is a bodily passage or tube lined with epithelial cells and conveys a secretion or other substance. They distribute air or fluid in a structure. It is essential to keep ducts clean to ensure that individuals living at that area can take in fresh air. There are several duct cleaning systems but one must take into consideration environmentally friendly duct cleaning systems to clean their duct. Irritants like smoke, mold and mildew, plant pollen, tiny oil fragment from food preparation and dirt fragments likewise circulates along with air. These are hazardous for the health and may cause lung diseases like asthma. The dust gathered in the duct may likewise cause obstruction and it will not work effectively. In some cases, there might be some major harm triggered to human health due to unclean air. It is advised that duct must be cleansed after a certain period to eliminate the dirt transferred inside the duct. Cleaning a duct is not a hard job and you can even do it yourself. See to it that you pick a great cleaning product. If extreme chemical are utilized to cleanse the duct, then these poisonous chemicals will spread around in the air of the house. These chemicals will make breathing difficult for the people living at that area. It will not only get worse the air high quality inside the house but may likewise lead to health problems. Eco pleasant duct cleaning systems will be best remedy to clean your ducts. These cleaning up systems do not give off any type of hazardous fumes so are safe for health as well as for the setting. Such a cleaning system will not only clean your duct effectively but likewise have several other benefits over other products. A clean duct will increase heating and cooling efficiency, as dust or dirt gathered inside the duct diminishes the system's efficiency. By cleaning up the duct you will substantially reduce heating and cleaning price. Also extremely little quantity of dust gathered inside the duct can affect the efficiency negatively. The air coming through the duct will be clean if the duct is clean. Your setting will be devoid of microorganisms, fungis, and other dangerous bacteria. So, with this healthier setting, one can reduce the chances of lung troubles like asthma. You will breathe much better without coughing over and over. The duct will function extra successfully.

Kids expand much better in a healthy and balanced setting. If you have youngsters then you would certainly be aware how vital great eating routines and exercise are for them to end up being healthy and balanced adults. The immune system of the youngsters will develop in a much better method and they will be at less threat of dropping sick. The pets at your house will likewise breathe simpler. If you are already struggling with some health problems pertaining to breathing then clean air coming through a clean duct will stop it from getting worse. You will respire much better. If the duct is not cleaned effectively or extreme chemical is utilized to clean, then the health may end up being poor. Pollution has come to be a international problem. Harsh chemicals contaminate the setting so one needs to pick environmentally friendly duct cleaning systems. A great duct cleaning system may be expensive for you at first but it is not extra valuable than your family's health. https://ductsealinglauderhill484.blogspot.com/2022/11/duct-sealing-lauderhill.html Duct Cleaning Lauderhill UV Light Install Lauderhill Air Duct Purifier Lauderhill http://ductcleaningexperts.net https://persianrugrepairwarnersprings722.blogspot.com/2022/11/persian-rug-repair-borrego-springs_0481713727.html https://solarpanelsinstalled.blogspot.com/ https://solarpanelsinstalled.blogspot.com/2022/11/solar-panels-installed.html https://solar-power-is-the-solution.tumblr.com/post/701175482093371392/green-energy-solar-panel-in-london https://solar-energy-is-green.tumblr.com/post/701285614869463040/solar-panel-installations-lon

[everlywell-covid-test-b4d2nye]

Alexapure Pro Water Filtrati

Our goal is to ensure you have a pleasant experience from start to complete! Efficiency of filters may differ due to source water conditions, water turbidity and seasonal water conditions. Cleaning up the chambers The outer surface areas of your stainless-steel Alexapure Pro chambers are easy to keep tidy by dusting with a soft cloth. Cleaning up the exterior of the filters Mineral content in unattended water may cause develop on the hybrid ceramic shell of the Alexapure filter unit. While this in no chance affects the filtration procedure, you can clean the outer surface areas of your filters. Be sure to carefully remove them from the upper chamber first.

The most comparable filtration system by Alexapure is the Alexapure Pro, an identically-sized system with the same filtered water capacity. Comparing the in this guide, we'll be taking a look at what makes these two gravity water filters the same and, most notably, what sets them apart. Tabulation Contrast Chart Filter Contrast, Berkey Filters, Berkey's gravity filters for water are called Black Berkey aspects, and utilize the force of gravity to slowly filter water in the system. Water gravity filters aren't developed for the fastest water filtration, and the Big Berkey is no exception. The Black Berkey filters can filtering approximately 3. 5 gallons of water per hour, so by no means do they produce an instant outcome. Speed aside, you'll be pleased with the Berkey's efficiency in terms of how thoroughly the Black Berkey filters can remove impurities from water. If you're looking for proof of efficiency, you'll discover it in the outcomes from Berkey's independent laboratory testing, which you can see online. The Black Berkey aspects have actually been tested to fulfill NSF standards it's simply a small setback that they're not NSF licensed, which would offer Berkey that additional selling point for customers who want to make certain they're purchasing an industry-backed product. Alexapure water filters in fact have an edge over the Berkey water aspects here, due to the fact that they're. This figure is only precise when the leading chamber is complete, though as the water level drops, the filters will take longer to produce tidy water. Comparing the Alexapure Pro water filtration system vs Berkey water aspects, there's essentially no distinction in their efficiency when it pertains to pollutant elimination. https://alexapureprowaterfiltrationsy848.blogspot.com/2022/08/alexapure-pro-water-filtration-system.html https://sites.google.com/view/alexapure-pro-water-filtration/home/ https://alexapure-pro-water-filtration-system.blogspot.com/ https://londonseoconsultantcost.blogspot.com/ https://londonseoconsultantcost.blogspot.com/2022/08/london-seo-consultant-cost.html https://dietsthatworkforwomenely31.blogspot.com/ https://dietsthatworkforwomenely31.blogspot.com/2022/08/diets-that-work-for-women-ely.html https://persian-rug-repair-plac-n3n.tumblr.com/post/691666218810228736/persian-rug-repair-oceanside

[theunderestimator-2]

Topper Headon, the human drumming machine of the Clash, as captured by Pennie Smith ca. late-’70s.

“...He did not play on the UK release of the band’s debut album. The Clash is stuffed with top tunes, over-flowing with snarling attitude. Terry Chimes did the job behind the drum kit. ‘Topper’, a decent drummer, had been told his playing was on the quiet side. He needed to toughen up a bit.

“I thought, I’m going to have to knock the shit out of those drums. As a result, I had to re-learn my style. In doing so, he made the transition from good to great. He kept his range of styles but had to add power to his playing. Real power (...) He was a drumming genius who propelled a good band to become the best around. It was inevitable, maybe, that such talent would come at a price. He had developed a heroin habit which soon escalated and led to having to leave the band in 1982. 

Possibly such a light was never going to burn so strongly and continually for too long...”

wearecult.rocks/

Getting sacked from the Clash marked his descent to darkness.

“Months after being in one of the world's biggest RnR bands, Headon was living in a freezing, windowless squat in Fulham, while The Clash were performing stadium shows in the US in support of the single "Rock the Casbah", a song largely written by him and on which he played drums, bass and piano. 

When he received £200,000 in royalties from The Clash, a sum roughly equivalent to £750,000 today, the money lasted less than 18 months. "My dealer used to come round and say, 'I'll take the rug,' and a big Persian rug would walk out for a gram. He was left sitting on the floor of his empty, remortgaged Abbey Road flat watching a black-and-white television.

He got arrested on charges of supplying heroin and received a 15-month jail sentence. Then he took a mini-cabbing job in the late ‘80s to fund his heroin addiction, since he would only appear for as long as it took him to earn the £25 he needed to buy drugs, so when work became too much for him, he took to the London Underground, busking with a set of bongos. "Every 100 people who passed, there'd be one who'd stop and ask, 'Are you Topper Headon from The Clash?'" He shrugs, "I'd have to say, 'Yeah, this is what I do now.' It was so humiliating."

By the turn of the 21st century Headon found himself in a hostel for the homeless, living on cans of Special Brew supplemented by twice-daily visits to soup kitchens. He returned to Dover, becoming the local drunk, cornering people in pubs and shouting at cars in the street until his doctor told him that his liver was "waving the white flag". Some time during the '80s Topper had contracted hepatitis C. 

He had been through rehab 13 times, but this time it worked. Why? "I don't know. Something happened. I started feeling part of life again.”

ndependent.co.uk/

Topper’s been clean since 2004, a R’n’R survivor and a spokesman for the Hepatitis C Trust doing local charity work. It's been really good to hear and read interviews with him in recent times.

His word of advice to young musicians?

“Love every minute of it. Enjoy every minute. Appreciate it and try not to get carried away because it can be a short career”

(via, via & via)

[oakhamorientalrugs]

[kitmon]

Keys Are Under the Mat {3/?}

Llewyn Davis x OC

Summary: Struggling singer/songwriter, Llewyn Davis, has faced the rough and tumble world of the music industry as well as the callous hand of life. When an up-and-coming folk singer makes a trip back home and finds herself at the hands of the battered down couch-surfer, her first thought is to offer him a bit of compassion.

Warnings: Cursing, sexual themes, themes of depression

The magnificent structure stood tall on a street corner within the heart of Greenwich Village. It held a lovely charm of something that’s lived for so long. The red tint of its brick-lined walls having been stained with the countless snow and rainstorms it’s endured but it only reminded those that looked upon it that it was a feat of structural genius plucked from the imagination of architect, Emery Roth. It was one of the reasons, she’d chosen it.

The Devonshire House was home to the wealthy and elite with sizable apartments and little English touches that she found herself enamored with after being surrounded by buildings just like it during her small trip to London in the spring. It was home for now, or at least until she was sent to another state or another country by her manager. But that was something to consider at a later point in time. Now, all she could find herself thinking on was how much she’d enjoy getting out of the powdery streets of New York and into her condo, where chamomile tea lay nestled somewhere in her cupboards waiting for her.

James came around to her door and opened it. He offered his hand for her and she took it, the soft cashmere of her glove fitting nicely into the beaten leather of his own. She took a prudent step onto the crunchy layer of ice that encased the sidewalk, James keeping close watch of her movements. Once she was steady he made his way to the trunk and unlocked it, pulling out her guitar case with ease. She was next to him in an instant, reaching out to take the case, but his hands inched away, keeping it just barely out of her reach.

“James?” She questions, looking up to find the subtle crease in his brow and the attentive sheen in his eyes.

“Let me carry this for you, Dotty,” he insisted, but she saw right through to the bottom of his shallow actions and knew right then that his intentions weren’t all too pure. Any other day she’d let him accompany her on the short trip to her apartment, but now that he was only trying to interfere with her guest, she’d have none of it.

“Oh, I’m sure I can carry it, James,” she persisted, reaching the rest of the way to grip the handle as James let it slip from his fingers, knowing not to fight her on these things. “It’s only a short walk through the lobby.”

His frown reflected his distaste, but he let her do as she pleased. She held a tight grip on her case as she moved to walk towards the front doors, where the misfortunate doorman stood at its side, snow dusting his shoulders and his cap. But before she could take a step, James caught her hand with a soft grip, not enough to really stop her but just enough to let her understand that what he was saying was urgent.

She turned her head down to look at his hold that had traveled further down, now grasping onto her hand. A flurry of puzzlement invading her senses as her sight flitted onto his shaking eyes.

“Stay safe, Dotty.” He pleaded, the poor quiver in his well-built hand bringing her back to the reality of the situation; the effect it had on others. Her eyes softened, and she plopped the guitar case into the snow, reaching for the hand that held hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze with both of her own. She lifted it up towards her before placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. He really is patient with her and she appreciates his sticking by her side. Lord knows how many times she thought he wouldn’t.

“There’s nothing to worry about, James,” she coos, running her thumb over his sharp knuckles that bloomed with the heat at her touch. His chin tucked itself into his chest as his head dropped and his hand planted itself on his hip in exasperation. He let out a brittle chuckle as his head rocked at the absurdity of it all.

“Jesus, Dorothy, you’re—,” his breath lay caught in his throat, not sure of what to say or what to do. His hand splayed over his forehead, trying to reach for the words.

“An idiot?” She offers, a wide grin inching its way up her features. “You can call me an idiot, James, I know that’s what you’re thinking,” she giggles, watching as his face unwound from the tightly woven distress he wore before into a broad smile that twinkled with the lights of the buzzing village around them.

“You’re not an idiot, Dotty,” the smile still present on him but his words were all resolute. “Just... dewy-eyed.”

“You trust too much in others.” His face turned pensive, now matching the solemn words he spoke. “One of these days these people’ll stomp on your fire, they’ll put you out.”

“You worry too much.” She patted the hand that ceased its quivering and was still cradled in her own. She brought her own to his strong chin, caressing it in assurance. The sharp stubble on his chin tickling the pad of her thumb.

She sent him off when the cold nipped at her nose and the snow began to seep into her boots, reminding her of how much warmer it’d be inside. She was sure her company wouldn’t mind the thought of it as he trembled under the umbrellaed visor that loomed over the entrance of the building, grasping for any kind of warmth as he waited on her.

They entered the large and spacious lobby, bringing a gust of chilly night air that swept across the floor and caused a chill to prickle at their skin. The checker-tiled floor was damp with the snow that clung onto travelers' feet even after wiping them at the door. The warmth and the wafting scents of early winter encased them as they stepped through to the elevator; smells of gingerbread and cinnamon gluing themselves to their heavy coats. She remains silent but her eyes shrink when her smile widens to wiggle her fingers at the lady occupying the front desk; Rachel, her name tag boasted. And the older man standing guard at the elevator watched with glee as his favorite resident stepped forward, offering this drear and heady day some sunlight in the form her kindness.

“Good evening, Henri,” she greets sweetly with closed eyes and an acknowledging lilt of her head.

“Good evening, Dotty,” he speaks, the remnants of a French accent lacing his words as his eyes filled with warmth, adoration as if looking at his own daughter.

“How’s Pepper? Poor thing still recovering from her cold?” She chances at small talk as Llewyn occupies her side, hands stuffed inside the eaten-away-at satin pockets of his blazer. He listens in on the conversation between friends as he looked up and around the box. Nothing all too new, similar to the one in the Gorfien’s complex he thinks.

“Oh, yes, she’s doing well,” he reassures, catching Llewyn’s ear as he does. “S’been reading a lot. Just finished a science-fiction novel. Never read one myself but I might give it a try the way she’s been raving ‘bout it.”

“I’ll have to lend you one sometime,” she offers, grasping onto the handle of her case with both hands in front of her as the elevator lets out a resounding ding at reaching her floor.

The dense metal doors slid wide open, showcasing a broad hall, decorated with simple vases holding lovely arrangements of purple hydrangeas, guelder roses, and dahlias all of which complemented the eggshell wash of the walls.

“Tell Pepper I said ‘Hello,’“ she requests, stepping out onto the divine and gleaming hardwood tile, still facing Henri as her steps walked her backward. She gives a final wave goodbye as the doors slid shut and Henri wished her farewell through the fracture between doors.

She spun on her toes to redirect herself forward. The clicks of her chunky heel meeting the tile could be heard against the walls as the two patrons within them remained silent. Llewyn stayed analyzing his surroundings, noting the broadly spaced doors and the high ceilings.

“Pepper is Henri’s wife,” she inserts into the still air, filling Llewyn in on the conversation she could quite easily assume that he was listening in on. “He adores her,” she continues. “Always speaks about how she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Llewyn looks away from the polished doorways to find her rubbing her thumb at the worn handle of the guitar case as she daydreams. His lips parted as if he were going to speak, say something to her but the attempt was shunned when she abruptly stopped at the last door on the hall, setting her baggage down and planting her feet on the blue Persian doormat placed just in front of it.

She fiddles with the ring of keys she pulled out of her— to all appearances—bottomless coat pocket. She stuffed the copper key into the hole once she finds it and opens the door. She steps to the side, her back placed along the hard oak allowing him in before her. He takes a step inside and surveys the flat; it was pristine, all clean colors coating the area, and it was reminiscent of the paintings of heaven he’d seen somewhere before. And he had only stepped foot in the foyer.

The welcoming home of a dog bark reverberated off the walls. Bounding around a sharp turn and nearly slipping on the corner of a rug comes a long-snouted dog, large and gaining speed preparing to jump onto Llewyn. His leap caused the musician to stumble back a few feet holding onto the slim limbs of the pup.

“Oh! No, stop that, Beau!” She scolds, turning from her work of locking the door to assist the dog back onto the floor. She holds him close at her side, patting his snow-white locks to steady him.

“I’m sorry, he gets excited when there’re guests,” she explains as the dog stares up at Llewyn, eyes wide and glossy with a happy-go-lucky grin shaping his mouth as he panted in excitement.

Llewyn looked on before he felt the gentle press and rub on his leg. He peeked toward the floor and found a slender grey and white spotted kitty rubbing her side against the rough material of his slacks. Her light fur decorating his grey-toned pants as she maneuvered.

“You’re not allergic, are you?” She questions with concern, lifting herself up from her kneeling position against the pup and making her way to scoop up the fur fiend in her arms. She held the cat like a mother would hold her newborn child while the animal butted it’s sleek head against her owner’s, begging for her attention as her purrs grew louder.

“I’m sure Penelope wouldn't mind spending some time in my room.” The cat continued to fight for her affection, ramming its head into her cheek as she spoke.

“No, no I’m fine,” he watched her interactions with her pets with a skeptical expression, shaking his head to let her know there was no need for any of that. Her head bobbed in understanding, her eyes gazing toward the floor as she subconsciously scratched at Penelope’s chin, much to the kitten's pleasure.

There was a bout of silence that lingered as she set the feline on the floor to roam. She lifted herself and patted her hands at her wool coat to remove the excess white fur from her gloves. She sighs deeply, her body relaxing. She starts to fiddle with the large buttons on her coat, plucking them through the holes then shimmying out of the thick material.

“If you’d like, there’s food all in the pantry and in the fridge.” She nods her head to the left, down another room in the general direction of the kitchen as she steps toward a coatrack. She hangs it up neatly before moving to her gloves, snatching the fabric off of each finger before pulling off the whole garment and placing them in her coat’s pocket.

He followed the nod of her head, leaning forward and looking off to find an expansive kitchen, bright and clean with rows of cupboards and drawers holding ripe fruits and fresh vegetables and grains.

“I’ll go get the first aid kit.” His eyes were yanked back to her toeing off her boots stabilizing her self on a nearby wall, wiggling her toes under her sheer black nylons once they were free. Her feet padded along the floor as she made her way towards the bathroom.

Llewyn watched her tread off before glancing up and down the walls making his way to the plush looking couch he found once turning the corner of the long corridor. He plops himself onto the perfect seat looking out the Georgian style window it was positioned near and onto the bright city lights flickering as the city thrived.

His head jerked when he felt the gentle landing of Penelope on his thigh. He watched as she let her paws wander over the expanse of his lap, searching for the best spot to rest. His mind initially wishes to pick her up and place her on the floor, but once he sees her settling in a comfortable ball he couldn’t find it to disturb her. Resting the hand that lifted in attempts to push her away now landing on her fur, stroking tenderly. Penelope’s purrs of content could be felt as he lifted his head and continued to watch outside.

The alluring sight and sound weren’t expected on Dorothy’s part as she turned the corner, holding a white package and halting her steps to look on for a moment longer. It was a humorous contrast; a big scruffy man nursing a soft and tender kitten in his lap, looking to be enjoying it nonetheless!

“I think Penny likes you,” she states as she steps toward the couple, bringing Llewyn’s attention to her form as she enters. His hand came to a standstill and Penelope lifted her head see the same sight.

His eyebrows puckered and his eyelids came closer in a squint. “What?”

She stepped forward toward an accompanying ottoman. She lifted its side and dragged it across the rug laying it in front of him and plopping herself on the plump material.

“Penelope,” she clarifies, not looking up at him as she flicks the latches open and rummages through the contents of the kit. “She seems to like you.”

“Oh, right, I guess so.” His eyes drifted from her onto Penelope, meeting the feline’s steel eyes that stared up at him. They silently insisted that he continue to brush her and he did, reaching at her head and traveling to the base of her spine.

Dorothy pulls a damp rag that she’d been holding prior and folds it a few times before offering it to his face, asking for permission to continue. With no hesitance on his side, she proceeds to clean at the tarnished skin. Burning red wounds and purple splotches coated his flesh. Luckily for him, there weren’t all too many and although the seriousness of each varied, there wasn’t a need for stitches. But her mind thought it right to at least clean them up.

“So, are you gonna tell me why you were half dead in an alley, or am I just gonna have to leave that to my imagination?” She jested, a smile pulling its way onto her features. An attempt in her part to lighten the mood.

“I was mugged, just my fucking luck,” he laughed humorlessly, wanting to shake his head but her fingers guided it back to where she could reach.

“Yeah, the guy wasn’t all too happy when he found out there wasn’t much to steal.” Her calculative pats ceased their rhythm when the sigh of a sentence left him. It was a subtle change in motion, hardly enough to notice, but it was there. Her emotions taking control for a split second at the sheer desperation in his voice. A voice so gruff, it must have been the subject of hurt too many times. She could only imagine how much shit could have been kicked in his face and how little anybody else could have cared at the moment. She knows it, she’s felt it.

After cleaning all the free blood and grime on his features she packs the little case up and moves to the kitchen. She placed it on the countertop and turned to pull open the freezer door, the frigid air hitting her as her hand reached in and brought back out an ice tray. She kicked the door closed with her elbow and set the tray on the opposite counter. In a graceful manner, having navigated the kitchen many times, she pulls at a drawer choosing a small dishrag and closing it with a thump. She popped a few cubes from the tray and placed them in the rag, folding it to hold them securely. She walked it back to the living room and leaned down to reach Llewyn’s line of sight. Her hand reached to press it against the bruise over his eye but quit when she realized that he could handle it, there was no need to mother him she figured. She instead opted for offering it in the palm of her hand.

“Here,” she encouraged. Llewyn meeting her eyes and reaching to take the package. Her hand pointed to the discolored mark that had started to swell as she continued. “Leave that on for a while, it’ll still be bruised but it’ll stop the swelling.” He offered a grateful nod, albeit short as he applies the needed pressure holding in the sharp grunt that wanted to escape. Her eyes roved over his beaten build, and she continued to repress the urge to overstep boundaries and coddle him. But her resolve won as she impelled her hands up and off her knees to stand straight and head for her bedroom.

Her bare feet peeked out of her door as she inched it open, revealing herself with dampened hair all ruffled and sticking out from when she tossled it with a towel. She was already snuggled up in striped pajamas that her figure drowned in. The sleeves reached the tips of her fingers and the fabric of the pants pooled at her feet.

After brushing her short locks into place and putting rogue streaks of hair back where they belong, she set the comb haphazardly onto a countertop; it was a common trait that often led to the displacement of many items. She took creeping steps towards the living area to peek inside. The television’s screen was pitch black as he made no use of it and the whole room stood still. There was no record on the turntable and no upturned knobs on the radio, rendering the room silent. He just sat, and stared out the window, twiddling at Penelope’s fur.

She felt intrusive when she stepped into his quiet place, a scoundrel plank of wood creaking when she took a step. Her head lifted to find him staring up at her, offering a sheepish smile as an apology for her trespassing. She stood straight and clasped her hands in front of her, pulling at the sleeve of her sleepwear as she offered the bathroom to him, pointing down the hall to make it clear. He nodded and lifted Penelope out of his lap and set her onto the floor. His frame stalked towards Dorothy as she held his stare, mouth sealed shut as to not make a peep. When he stepped beside her and continued to watch her face, holding his position yet saying nothing, the tension rose. Her head hung, cutting that thickening line, and she smiled to herself, the red racing up her neck and spreading along her flushed cheeks.

He watched her shuffle before walking down the hall.

The guest room she introduced him to was a standard size with a queen-sized bed placed along a wall. It was all furnished and decorated to fit the home, but it held its own touches unique unto itself.

He wasn’t presented this luxury very often, usually taking advantage of Jim and Jean’s raggedy couch or the Gorfien’s slight upgrade of a not-so-raggedy couch. He even offered taking rest on her own but she insisted that there was no need. It was a three-room condo, with a single resident and her pets, all other rooms were left untouched unless she had visitors which wasn’t very frequent. There wasn’t any point in letting the opportunity pass only to have the room collect more dust.

As he stepped inside, she continued to stand at the threshold, watching his eyes scan the room as they ultimately fell onto the bed.

In the bathroom, he pulled his clothes back on, opting to sleep in his tattered t-shirt and his wrinkled slacks. But on the nearly made bedspread lay a brand new shirt and folded just underneath was a pair of flannel pajama pants to keep him warm as she knew the window would let in peeks of air from time to time. She doesn’t say anything about the gesture and neither does he. He only takes it in his hands and feels over the material, holding in his mind the joy that overflows. But he looks at her, shirt still in hand as he thanked her with the dull gleam in his eye.

Her lips upturned slightly and she turned her head to the side, averting his solemn gaze.

Turning to walk away, her hand floating over the door frame as she turned, only tightening slightly when she halts. She curses her awful memory before retracing her steps, placing her back in the middle of the threshold ready to give him some information she left out.

“I’ll be gone early tomorrow, there’s food all in the cupboards so you can help yourself, and if you leave, go ahead and lock the door,” she finishes, her words holding a nonchalance to them, sleep already taking over. He nods his head and turns back to pulling at the tight tuck of the sheet wedged under the corner of the mattress. She gives a nod of the head as well, and once again tries to step away before another memo invaded her action.

“Oh, also, one more thing,” she chirps. “If you need to come back, there’s a spare key under the mat.” It’s a subtle offer, given for unknown intentions on her part. She wasn’t sure why but she enjoyed his company, the thought of coming home to someone other than Beau and Penelope, but he didn’t have to know that.

She leaves, her hand ultimately slipping from the doorframe it had been resting on and falling to her side.

“Hey,” he calls, taking a step to catch her before she was out of war shot. “Thanks, for all of this, it’s really... look, you didn’t have to—“

“I know,” she interrupts with a smile, “but I wanted to.”

She switches off the hall light with a flick and hollers a good night. She wrangles her pets, luring them in with sweet calls as they follow into her room. Beau saunters toward their shared bed, Penelope already cuddled up in the comforter until Beau leaps on as well and shakes her up.

Dorothy watched in amusement as she brought the door in. It closed with a click but her hand lingered on the handle, eyeing it. Her fingers floated over the lock, debating on her next choice, ultimately deciding on switching it with the sharp turn of her wrist. The room was secure and she was safe in that knowledge.

She trudged herself to her little nest, lifting the covers and cozying herself in the company of her pets, surrendering to her exhaustion.

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@rosemarysbaby13

[theklingerkollection]

how did your grandparents meet? 👀

 Sorry this is years behind the actual ask- my inbox never tells me when I have new messages.  The sets with the funnest stories are weirdly both sets of paternal grandparents, but to me all 4 are pretty funny in their own way.

 My adoptive dad’s parents met during WW2- grandpa was a Canadian farm boy in over his head, grandma was an English ambulance driver who missed the “ladies do not start fights” part of her mom”s lessons. During the aftermath of one of the London bombings, grandpa was on clean up/rescue detail, and accidentally shifted a bunch of debris into grandma’s ambulance path. She wasn’t in a hurry, so she decided to start yelling at him, and he started yelling back. 

 While everyone else just cleaned up, those two continued to screech at each other, with grandpa eventually coming to stand in front of the ambulance to really add some gestures to this fight. Finally, with the debris cleared, she threatened to run his ass over if he didn’t move.  He told her to just try and run his ass over.  She ran his ass over.  A couple days later they ended up in the same bomb shelter, and got forced to get along (aka everyone else just wanted them to shut up for 3 fucking seconds). They ended up exchanging letters until the war ended, and grandma moved to Canada to marry grandpa.  Until her death she maintained she won that argument, and he needed to stop bitching about being run over.

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 (For my moots and frequent flyers on this blog- this is the Grams I talk about in my tags all the time)      My bio dad’s parents are both from rural northern  indigenous communities, and both were the type to just take off for weeks or months with little warning.

 (grams, the second anyone suggests an activity)  During one of their excursions they both (separately) settled down near the same lake. Grams, having arrived first, had a trap line set up (these two are 100+ years old so fur trading was still a big business back then), and during one of her excursions to check the traps, discovered one of the river traps had a very irate, very handsome, and very naked man in it.  My dumbass grandfather got his leg caught while swimming and was, as the youth say, big mad. Grams was nice enough to cut him loose, and when she pulled him out they recognized each other from various cultural events, and started hanging out.  Gramps is still a handsome dumbass, for the record. -------------------------

 My adoptive mum’s dad was an air traffic controller, and because of that had the local weather channel on 24/7 at work (he was in Saskatchewan, it’s so flat you can see weather from 2 years ago, why do you need the weather channel??). My grandma was, of course, the weather girl at the time. Grandpa spent quite a while developing a crush on her, until he finally figured out where they filmed the news, and showed up with flowers. Grams always tells this story with “I mean, it’s a little creepy, but hey, a handsome man with flowers offering me a free dinner? I could stand getting murdered for that. And the cops can tell my dad I died doing what he wanted me to: trying to find a man.”

 Even funnier, not only did she work to piss off her old man (weather girl) instead of finding a man, she was at school, and shortly before she and grandpa got married, she officially became a Professor of Mathematics (which she taught at uni until she retired), and my grandpa was always like “this is my wife PROFESSOR [last name]” just to really annoy everyone.

---------------------------

 My bio mom’s parents differ in that their marriage was semi-arranged. What makes it funny is that, because of how marriages worked back then (especially in their home country), the whole “obey your husband” thing reeeeaaaally rankled my Nine (grams). She had dreams! Plans! An insanely bitter grandma who told her terrible stories about her marriage! So she went to her parents and was like “I know you want me to get married, and I will...... If you can find me a certain man.”  Now, her parents were pretty well-off, and she was the spoiled baby girl (she has 15 older brothers and her mom wanted girls, so...) so she was indulged these stipulations:  - He must be very handsome, or at least blandly photogenic - He must be smart enough to charm, but not smart enough to get in her way. - He must be either a trust fund kid (like her) with no job, or one with a decorative title, who is not inclined to work (aka the type to want a stay at home wife) - Preference given to hairy men (she loves them hairy bois)

 The lady wanted herself a trophy wife. And oh did she get one. My great-grandpa brought home the son of a business partner: my Dede (gramps). Dede was charming in a “clearly has PR training” kind of way, rarely spoke unless spoken to. Played in a local rugby league as a job, was very handsome and very hairy (he’s the wolfman).  Nine actually straight up told him “I’m looking for an ornamental house husband, because I want to follow my dad into business. Would you sit back and not get in my way? Would you show up for work events looking nice, and do nothing but look handsome for me?”  He straight up calls himself a trophy wife to this day, and she still gets those specialty Persian rug cleaners in to dry clean him before work events (I’m not kidding, he’s hairy)

 I don’t know if anyone else will find these funny, but I always do.

[itselsajohn-blog]

The Rug Shed offers handmade rugs for sale for both Business and Retail customers, and offer a one stop solution to all the Rug Buying needs in London and nationally. From Home trial,  Part exchange, Cleaning and repair to multiple stock locations for Warehouse Visits, The Rug Shed have it all under one name.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

National Boss Day [h.s.]

- part II - 

here’s part I if you missed it!

word count: 10k yeet 

content/warnings: fluff, bit of smut, & angst shishters

“‘Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?’

Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus, and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice). 

She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously.

or Y/N learns that garlic bread is deadly, lips taste best after coffee cake, psychosexual analysis is her strong-suit, and comfortable silence is so overrated. 

///

Harry’s house was just as Y/N pictured it (not that she fantasized about his house often or anything), down to the baby cactus in the finger-painted ceramic flower pot, snuggled next to a framed picture of a messy-haired Harry in a light blue Hawaiian shirt, smirking at the camera while carrying a baby girl in his tattooed arms. 

“My goddaughter,” he explains as he shuts the front door behind her, Nike-socked feet padding across the dark wooden floor to where she is currently standing, smiling fondly at the image as she toes off her worn sneakers and draws her black windbreaker tighter over her Captain America t-shirt.

Harry looks so different outside of the office— so different from the intimidating man he has to portray in order to be taken seriously in his field. He’s clad in a pair of neon blue running shorts and a slightly oversized Greenbay Packers sweatshirt, his hair in messy, fluffy tuffs and just a tad bit damp at the ends, giving away that he’d gotten out of the shower not too long ago. He’s freshly shaven and smells of his signature cologne, mixed with the scent of musky aftershave and refreshing deodorant. He looks soft and cozy and cuddly, much to Y/N’s demise, and she wishes she could allow herself the luxury of running her hands through his curly locks and feel him give into her touch.

Sure, she’s seen him unwind before outside the office, but this closer glimpse at Harry’s life is so rare it feels so intimate to be allowed to see it. To see him completely unguarded, with his ungroomed curls, relaxed posture, and big hands tucked lazily into the front pocket of his jumper; he looks like any other regular twenty-four year old boy would. Nothing like a millionaire business-owner with the weight of the world sitting on his broad shoulders.   

“She’s two,” Harry continues, breaking Y/N from her train of thought, “and her name’s Ruby. Sweetest little girl you’ll ever meet. Loves to chew on fingers, though, so if you ever do meet her, you ought to keep those hidden.” 

She giggles softly as he smiles fondly at the snapshot, turning slowly to face her and jerking his head sideways in the direction of what she guesses is the kitchen. “Cake won’t eat itself. C’mon.”  

Harry gives Y/N a mini tour of his huge pent house in the few seconds it takes them to reach the elegant kitchen. He presents the living room as it is set beside the kitchen, and then points in the direction of where a corridor leads off, explaining that it descends to his room as well as the guest bedrooms. The color scheme of the home is centered towards dark colors, the theme being modern and posh. It can clearly be seen in the decor what with the plush, burgundy-colored sofas that look square and compact and ever so luxurious, arranged over a Persian rug of sorts that she can tell was probably woven by hand, the gold and bronze threads glimmering under the dim ceiling lights. 

The architecture of the home displays it as well, with its glass-based design and sleek dark brown and ashy grey accents washed across the walls, not to mention the creamy beige carpet that gives off to polished, red oak floors. At certain points, she even sees what appears to be bamboo built into the ceiling and across a few surfaces, tying the entire place together with an air of exotic beauty that is somehow still easily chic. 

The whole space is crisp, clean, and neat, the darkness created by the faint, warm lighting complimenting the deeper tones and shades all around the apartment. Funny enough, Y/N finds that the condo really reflects Harry as person— it’s reserved and quiet and peaceful, yet impecable and seemingly perfect down to the last window pane, with a bit of a haunting aura that just draws you in. 

It’s overwhelmingly refreshing, in a sense. 

Y/N is taking everything in when her eye catches on a certain piece of decor that she finds rather enticing. It appears to be a lamp of sorts, its lights made out of different sized rings that are stacked upon one another and spaced at intervals, the outer rims of the unusual bulbs painted midnight blue. It hangs from the ceiling, dangling a few inches off the floor at its full height. 

“Dope lamp.” She comments, and then mentally facepalms. How could she allow herself to sound so simple-minded and childish while in the presence of such expensive and high-class surroundings? She feels like she should curtesy to the fireplace as an apology. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to mind her wit. He actually loves the way Y/N is, with her modern lingo and her juvenile personality— it’s just like the first breath of spring. He is so used to being around older people and having to act incredibly mature and impeccably faultless that her easy-going, young persona is more than perfect to him. He gives the accessory a glimpse, smiling warmly and the gesture is directed more towards an unaware Y/N than the actual object. “Thanks. My sister designed it. Actually, she designed and furnished my entire apartment. She’s really into all that decor stuff and I can’t be bothered with it, so I just picked my place and let her take care of everything else. The only thing I had a say in was the art on the walls. Personally went and toured different exhibits and met tons of artists to make my collection ‘cause I feel it’s the one thing I can do no wrong with.” He gives a signifying glance at all the paintings that trail across the walls of his home, his lips quirking with the ghost of a proud smile and she thinks he looks pretty when his eyes twinkle like that. “Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?” Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice). She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously. Y/N continues to trail behind him, their footsteps going from muffled thumps on the carpet to soft padding against the hard wood floor as they enter the kitchen area. She is just now noticing how long the wall of the living room is, fascinated by how it is made entirely out of glass, looking out across the city skyline where the lights of the busy streets and skyscrapers twinkle invitingly. “I’ve always loved the city.” Harry pipes up when he catches her staring, sighing wistfully as he walks around the marble kitchen island, lifting the glass dome off of the cake-serving dish, the tangy smell of coffee and buttercream frosting tinting the air. “Living close to London does that to you.” “Yeah, I bet,” Y/N mumbles quietly, gifting him a small smile as he spins the cake dish around dramatically, sweeping a hand grandly before the dessert to emphasize its greatness. “Are you ready to taste a coffee cake that could put Gordon Ramsey to shame?” He’s acquired a cake-cutter and is already serving her a slice onto a plate that aesthetically contrasts the marble counter’s pattern, sliding it across the expanse of the table and pointing out a cabinet behind her. “Silverware is right in there.”

Soon enough, they are both sitting on top of the cold tabletop, Y/N on the island and Harry across from her on the counter besides the stove, swaying his legs ever-so-slightly as he licks at the frosting on his fork. “...and so then I told Niall that there was no way he could possibly fit all eight garlic bread rolls in his mouth without, y’know, breaking his jaw, and since he’s a knobhead, he proceeded to try and prove me wrong.” Harry is telling a story about a party at a restaurant that he and Niall had attended for one of the company’s older board members, who had been turning 81, and both of them had been bored out of their minds during the whole thing. They’d entertained themselves during the toast by hiding behind everyone else and daring each other to shove as many garlic rolls in their mouths as they could. Niall had won a gruesomely disgusting victory full of lots of drool and gagging, but he got bragging rights and Harry agreed to pay for his dinner so all went well in the end. He has Y/N a laughing mess, telling about how he almost threw up in the process when it had been his turn to cram the bread in his mouth, saying that since that day, every time he smelled something “remotely garlicky,” his stomach would lurch in a ghost warning. “Yeah, it was horrible. I can’t even smell Alfredo anymore or I risk presenting some of my very own homemade pasta sauce.” Harry loves the way Y/N’s eyes crinkle when she laughs too hard and how she clutches her stomach lightly as if she were about to burst open, her bubbly giggles being extremely contagious. He comes to the conclusion that he could sit here forever and watch her smile, his gaze softening with fondness as she wipes tears from the inner corners of her eyes while scrunching her nose and pinching her nostrils. 

“When I laugh too hard, I tend to start sneezing.” She explains, sniffling lightly and sighing with content. “It’s an issue.” Harry scoffs softly in amusement, setting his palms against the dark-stoned counter and hopping off with ease. He sets his plate in the sink, coming back over to Y/N to pick her’s up as well.    “What is it?” She inquires with a playful tone as she notices he still has that entertained smirk across his dimpled cheeks. He shakes his head lightly, pursing his lips to try and rid of the endeared grin but he just can’t. He can never seem to shake anything when it comes to her. “S’nothing.” “Oh, hop off it!” Y/N huffs, reaching over and slowly shoving him with a loose fist. “C’mon, spill.” “It’s just...” He’s fiddling with the fork on her empty plate, turning and shifting it around, the light clinking of the metal against the porcelain filling the pause in his thought. “You’re just cute, s’all.” Y/N blinks once in surprise. This is the first time he’s made any sort of comment like this since the incident. “Oh...” Her voice is tight with a slight squeak at the end. “Uh, t-thanks...” Harry glances up at her from the frosted surface of the platter in his huge hands, jade irises glimmering below his thick lashes with a timid yet confident air. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Her toes instinctively curl inside her kitty-printed socks at the pet name, the way he says it making a dull throb swell at the pit of her tummy. His voice was low and almost predatory as he let the word slip past his lips, licking the corner of his mouth slyly as he turned slowly to head back towards the dishwasher. When their locked eyes finally break is when Y/N can breathe again. It’s like he had a warm fist wrapped securely around her throat, forcing the air to stay in her lungs and fill her entire body with an anxious jittering. He’s so magnetic and enthralling, it’s almost like he’s not human. Harry’s voice rips her from her mind. She snaps her wild gaze up at him as he chances a glance behind his shoulder, scrubbing the buttercream from a plate with a rainbow sponge. “Be careful coming off the counter, love. It’s higher up than y’think and socks are slippery.” Y/N’s eyes roll at him jokingly as he sets the dishes in a drying rack, toweling his hands with a Plates Against Humanity dish cloth. “I think I can handle myself.” It turns out that she actually can’t handle herself. The island top was indeed higher than she had anticipated. Y/N jumps off, palms pressed against the surface as reinforcement, her body falling between her elbows and she thought her feet would hit the floor by the time her hips leveled with the counter. But she was wrong and her body keeps falling— falling to the point where her armpits are what is level with the surface so that her arms bend out of proportion, causing a small yawp of shock to string her vocal chords as pain erupts along the tendons of her shoulders, feet eventually hitting the ground but sliding out from under her due to the tiled floor not being compatible with the socks she is wearing. Harry lunges forward, strong arms wrapping around Y/N’s waist and higher torso as her flimsy arms give out beneath her weight. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve hit her head against the edge of the tabletop. He hikes Y/N up and props her against the island, where she leans backwards, catching her breath from the scare. Her legs feel like Jello, knees quaking as unharnessed adrenalin pumps heavy through her veins. Y/N’s chest heaves with shaky inhales, the feeling of her feet slipping out from under her haunting her conscious. One of her hands presses over her chest, heart threatening to break through her ribcage. Harry keeps his lean arms snaked around Y/N’s hips, he himself slightly winded do to the sudden call for action. He shoves his fringe off his forehead, giving her a smug side-grin and a jolt of his thick brows. “What was that you said about being able to handle yourself?” She releases a quivering, borderline hysterical laugh, still somewhat unhinged. “I miscalculated.” “It appears so,” he himself lets out a heap of chuckles as she tries to regain her footing, only to have her feet slip yet again. Y/N jerks her head up to meet his eyes as they glow with triumphant coyness, forming a witty remark in the back of her brain in the process. However, her comment is extinguished when her nose suddenly bumps with his as she lifts her gaze and she hadn’t realized how close Harry was until now. He is cradling her waist as her arms are slung loosely over his broad shoulders, palms flat against the muscles of his back as they flex under the soft cotton of his jumper, tight with the effort of holding her up. One of Y/N’s legs had perched between both of his when her feet had scrambled in the heat of the fall, knee being locked between both of his thick thighs and they feel so warm and soft under the sheer material of his mesh running shorts. Y/N had failed to notice how intimate this moment had grown in such a short amount of time. Harry’s canopy-green irises glitter at her with a certain familiar intensity from a while back. His tongue peeks out to absentmindedly lick across his suddenly dry lips and she can hear his breathing hitching in the back of his throat. His face drifts closer, the tip of his cold nose rubbing over her’s as his head cocks to the side a bit, eyes flickering back and forth between her owlish own and her mouth. His warm exhales wash across the young woman’s pulsing lips as he slowly pushes her further back against the counter, the lower half of her back bending slightly over the cold border. “H-Harry—” Y/N’s voice comes out high and weak, cut off by his as it fills with needy vehemence. “I’m gonna kiss you.” His words are a deep rumble in his strong chest, barely a murmur but a powerful one nonetheless. His brows furrow heavily and his Adam’s Apple bobs with a thick gulp, cherry-stained lips parting slightly in wariness. “I don’t think that’s a good—” She is forced to swallow her thought as Harry’s warm mouth collides with her’s, hot lips encompassing her quivering own as he grips her hips a tad more roughly, pushing forward as she yelps in surprise. His nose is smudging over Y/N’s as he deepens the kiss, tongue hesitantly wandering into his friend’s mouth and licking across her top lip. His hands scramble up to cup her face, warm palms cradling her jaw and holding her in place as he drags his textured tongue over her’s and glues a needy whimper to the roof of her mouth. The kiss is incredible— it’s everything Y/N had dreamed of and more. He’s dominant but in his own sheepish way— not too rough but not too soft— taking her into his embrace and she melts at the way his body wraps itself around her’s, eyes lulling to the back of her head. One thigh presses between Y/N’s legs as the other straddles one of her hips, his strong hands keeping her placed as he invades her mouth with a want so deep and carnal, she just about dissolves into a puddle right there in his strong arms. Harry gnaws at her bottom lip, gasping lightly when nails dig into the backs of his hard shoulders, whining into her mouth. “God, Y/N, been wanting this for too fucking long.” Y/N isn’t kissing back, but she’s not stopping it either. She just wants to bask in the way his thumbs are caressing the underside of her jaw as he suckles her tongue and chews on the center of her lower lip. His warm body is caving against her’s, bracketing her in and refusing to let go because, fuck, he needs this. Needs her. “You taste so bloody sweet, darling. S’like champagne and cream and...” Harry can’t help but fully grin into the kiss. “And coffee cake.” A small laugh pipes from Y/N’s trembling frame as a timid yet cheeky, “Wonder why.” puffs from under her breath. He’s pulling back a bit, replacing the long, drawn-out kiss with a scatter of gentle, cushiony pecks instead as he tries to get himself together. Harry’s plan backfires somewhat, however, because before he knows it he is back to desperately sifting his lips between her’s like they are his last source of oxygen and at this point, he doesn’t consider them anything less than life-saving.   “Shit, I bet y’taste even better between your thighs...” The blunt words had escaped his mouth, managing to slide by the filter in his brain due to all of his thoughts muddling together into one messy image that takes up every function of his being— the image of him snuggled between Y/N’s thighs as they roll around in the rumpled, damp lavender sheets of his king-sized bed, her nails biting memories into the flexing muscles along his back as he stains her tongue with his needy gasps and moans, his skin glistening with sweat and littered with love bites. A sudden warmth pools Y/N’s cheeks and something tells him she’s thinking the exact same thing. Maybe it’s the way her grip instinctively tightens on him, her fingers winding harder into the fabric of his sweatshirt, or how her swollen mouth falls open just a tad more to allow him as much access as he wants, but he’s just certain the same scene is rolling through the film behind her eyes. Harry’s starting to buck against the thigh she has between his, raw desire slowly gaining complete control of the reigns. His brows frown deeper as the buzzing in his bones rattles harder. When he speaks, his voice is soft and it sounds vulnerable as it thrums against her mouth. “Kiss me back. Please, pet, kiss me back. Need to know you want me, too.” Every nerve in Y/N is telling her not to. Every single fiber is telling her to high-tail it out of this situation before it goes into territory that they won’t be able to come back from. She has watched enough romantic comedies and chick-flicks to know that the whole boss-employee cliche never goes well. It’s ridiculous, really, that she’s let herself get this far when she’s always the one telling the TV off about how stupid the girl is being and how stupid the plot of the entire film is and how stupid the ending is because everyone knows there’s rarely such a thing as happily ever after when it comes to mixing career with pleasure and it’s all just so fucking stupid. But the thing the Y/N thinks is utterly moronic is that she finds herself, for once, starting to empathize with the female lead in those films. Now that she’s here, in Harry’s arms again — much less drunk on tequila and much more drunk on each other— she finally sees the world from the protagonist’s point of view. She sees the devastatingly handsome, sweet, and incredibly funny boss hovering a few inches from her face as his chest heaves with nervous, rattling breaths, full eyebrows pinched in anxious hope as he awaits her answer. It’s almost like she can hear an audience in the back of her head cheering her on as they watch the intense moment unfold before them in the movie theatre, screaming at her to just let go and do it already because it’s been a long time coming and the chance has never been more right. And before Y/N can rethink her actions, she’s giving not only that dumb imaginary audience exactly what they want, but she’s finally giving herself what she wants because she’s tired of having to be sensible and obedient and righteous all the time. So what if she fucks up this once? She’s spent most of her time at the company doing enough damage control to cushion it over. This one’s for her. Harry watches intensely with fluttering eyelashes and a battering heart as Y/N coasts her shaky hands across his broad shoulders and up his blushing neck to cup his set jaw, moving a single rebellious curl back from his forehead, her thumbs slowly curving around shells of his ears in thoughtful circles that have his knees knocking. He watches with enormous relief as Y/N hesitantly edges her face closer to his, eyes glued to his mouth with a form of uncertain determination as she prepares to take a leap that he well knows will take both of them down. Yet, he doesn’t stop it because she’s worth it— any rumors or dirty looks or gossip that might arise, she’s worth all of it because she’s so unique and special to him that he just can’t let this go. When Y/N finally touches her mouth to his, it feels like everything that has lead to this moment has been perfect and like the stars have aligned just so that both of them could be here tonight to finish the constellation. It’s sappy and disgustingly poetic on his part to think of a hormonal make-out session as some sign from the universe, but he doesn’t give two shits because that’s how it feels to him and he doesn’t remember a time where he’s ever felt more alive. Harry’s only in his early twenties but his family business has caused him to have to grow up earlier than others of his time. Do to these circumstances, he thinks he should be allowed this— should be allowed this messy encounter with a girl he’s been crushing on like a twelve-year-old for months now. She’s lively and lovely and kind and could give any famous comedian a run for their money and he is almost a hundred percent sure that his stomach has never felt this hollow and twisted before when he’s been kissed. He deserves this. This is for him. Both of their thoughts are racing a hundred miles a minute, overcome by the wave of sensations that neither have experienced from each other, let alone were ready for. Harry feels frozen in time, his fingers twitching against her jaw as she slots her mouth deeper with his, acting out of sheer adrenaline. Y/N suddenly releases a small, watery whine from the back of her throat, and this acts as some form of reality check to Harry because the sound is so intoxicating and syrupy that it jolts him into action. His hands quickly fumble for her hips, grabbing at her cushiony waist and backing her up even further against the counter. Y/N’s body reacts to his implications all by itself, pushing up off the ground as Harry’s arms flex with her weight, dropping her lightly onto then cold marble counter. Her thighs part widely to bring him closer, arms locked around his neck as Harry tilts his head slightly to the side, his nose brushing against her cheek as he delves further into her mouth. His breathing is spastic and wild as it puffs from his nose, tickling her skin and sending a jitter down her spine.   “Fuck’s sake...” Harry mumbles all raspy against her plush mouth, licking shyly at her top lip and revering in the way her thighs squeeze tighter around his hips. “S-Sorry if I’m a little rusty...s’been a while, actually, and— God, can you do that again?” Y/N has moved her hungry lips to the underside of his strong jaw, suckling down the structured skin and using the cute little moles scattered across Harry’s neck as guides. She pays close attention to each one, per his request, and her technique seems to prove valid because his fingers dig into her thighs, his head slowly lulling back to give her any space she needs to keep going. He’s biting down on the flesh just below his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth curved up into a dreamy, pleasureful grin as his eyes droop shut in bliss. His cheeks tint a darker shade of mauve, chest thrumming with satisfaction. “It’s okay. It’s actually been minute for me, too...” Harry chokes out a drunken boyish giggle that has hints of disbelief. “I highly doubt that’s tru— bloody hell— stop, stop!” Y/N moves her mouth away from the little dip at the center of his taunt throat, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. “Was it hurting? I’m so sorry—” “No, no, it’s not you. These are...” Harry whispers between deep gulps of air, reaching up to smooth his index finger thoughtfully across Y/N’s swollen bottom lip. He swallows heavily as she stares up at him with wide, curious eyes that have his balls aching. “These are fuckin’ magical.” When she speaks, her voice is meek and nervous and she has the cutest little pout present. “Then why’d we stop?” “Well, it’s just that since it’s been some time since my last play-date, I’m kinda sensitiveee— Oh, fuck, that’s deep.” Harry’s interrupted by Y/N gradually taking the finger that was prodding her lips into her mouth, tongue swirling around the digit and sucking feverishly, preening at the way his jaw goes slack and his eyebrows scrunch with sexual angst. She grabs a hold of his palm, uncoiling a second finger and tucking it inside as well, coating them thoroughly before pulling away slowly. She holds grueling eye contact the entire time, holding his large hand with both of her’s and separating the two digits with her tongue, running it down the center of both before planting sloppy wet kisses up and down their length. Harry feels like his whole body has been set alight, his thighs clenching and toes curling in his socks as he watches the utterly erotic scene unfold. How was he to know that sweet, gentle, comedic Y/N was so shamelessly dirty? He doesn’t hesitate to voice it, either, with his tone full of pained lust and wondrous awe. “Christ, you’re such a horny little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N nearly chokes around his fingers at his comment. It sounds so much hotter in real life than in her imagination. He smirks lightly. “Just asking for it— practically begging, with that pretty mouth and those big eyes.” Y/N turns Harry’s hand upwards, sponging messy suckling kisses across his tingling palm. “Like I said, it’s been a while for me, too.”     “Can see that clearly, now.” He murmurs under his breath, watching with bated inhales as lightning courses from her lips through the nerves in his skin. “Why’d you wanna stop?” She reiterates, failing to keep the hurt from her voice. When Harry interprets her mood, he immediately feels like shit. “Oh, darling,” he coos softly, leaning forward and nudging her nose with his. “It wasn’t you, it’s just that...I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself— let alone regain my masculinity— if I had an incident from simply just making out.” Y/N blinks at him exactly three times. “You were gonna cum from kissing?” Harry’s shoulders slump as a scowl toys with his cheeks. “Rub it in, why don’t you?” The snorty giggle she releases somewhat makes up for the dig at his ego. “I’m sorry, that’s just...Well, it’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever gotten, if I’m being honest.” “Nice damage control.” He huffs sarcastically with a light roll of his eyes. “I’m serious! I’m really flattered, Har.” His ears perk at the nickname and now he wants to hear her scream it more than ever. “I love the way that sounds coming from your mouth.” “Yeah?” She smiles softly. “Yeah...” He nods, side-grin buckling his face. “Wanna hear it again...and again...and again...Preferably while I have you shaking under me...headboard ramming against the wall...” Harry’s hand has coasted up her inner thigh, massaging it deeply as his lips bristle down from her eyelids to her cheek and across the underside of her jaw. “Can I touch you?” Y/N releases a stuttered, semi-laughing gasp. “Would be a crime if you didn’t.” Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, running them along the rim towards the button as he liters sparse pecks along her throat, his voice coming out low and sultry. “Wanted this since the moment you walked into my office.” Y/N swallows thickly, feeling the metal bit of her pants pop open and he pauses for a second to roll up a single sleeve of his grey jumper to get any possible obstacles out of the way. It’s something so trivial, yet it only makes the dampness between her thighs grow. “Wanted to just spread you over my glass table, hike up the pretty pencil skirt, and sink my face between your legs until all I could taste and smell was you.”    His fingers ghost over her abdomen, crawling past the restraints of the denim and tracing over the cotton material of her panties. “Watch your chest heave as I marked my teeth across your inner thighs, my rings staining the rest.” Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head as Harry confesses all he has ever wanted to do to her, his lips searing passion into her neck with every bite. His fingers are now cupping her over her underwear, two middle ones pressed up against the thick of her swollen clit and there is not doubt in her mind that she is soaked well through. “You’re already dripping and I’ve barely done a thing. S’cute how horny you are, really. Never imagined you to be so messy.” The whimper that strings Y/N’s vocal chords comes from deep in the pit of her stomach, pushed forward by utter need and the wish to fulfill a long-desired fantasy. His fingers start moving in long, teasing circles. “Harry...” “Bet you’re tight, too, aren’t you? Haven’t been fucked right in so long, you need someone to stretch you out nice and proper, yeah?” All Y/N can do is nod her head, hips bucking forward against his fingers, her head tilting down so that their foreheads flush against one another. The pine of Harry’s glossy irises stares up at her through his thick lashes, full of sly smugness at being able to dismantle her so easily. He kisses lightly at her quivering mouth, digits speeding up under her clothes. “‘M gonna fuck you all night long, angel. Make up for all that lost time.” Y/N feels a third finger hook around the crotch area of her panties, moving the fabric to the side to allow full on skin-to-skin contact. Harry can’t help the way his mouth drops open as his digits sink down between her folds, the warmth and wetness enveloping him as he teases one inside her. “Christ, you’re so dirty, pet.” “Harry, please...” Y/N tries to go in for a full kiss, but he pulls back, shaking his head mockingly and she’s so slick he manages to coax in a second finger. “Want you to look at me while I finger-fuck you.” His words leave her cheeks itching and her teeth numb, whimpering as he stretches her out. “I’m gonna do so many things to this perfect cunt. Gonna fit myself between your thighs and fuck you on your back so I can see how cute you look cumming. Then I’m gonna flip you around and take you from behind so I can mark my hands across your ass.” Harry’s picking up the pace against her heat, and his arm and wrist are starting to become sore but he knows it’ll be worth it if Y/N keeps squeaking and writhing the way she is. His eyes twinkle dangerously with another idea. “You ever been fucked out on a balcony, petal?” Y/N doesn’t trust herself to speak, settling for shaking her head drunkenly and letting out a muffled mm-mm.  “We’ll change that, then.” She can’t stop herself from making a coy remark, more to herself but his ears manage to catch it. “Not surprised you’ve got an exhibition kink.”   Harry’s eyebrows quirk up in amused surprise, his motions halting for a second. “S’cuse me?” Y/N licks across her chapped bottom lip, swallowing to regain some moisture back in her throat. “It goes hand-in-hand with a praise kink, which you obviously have, as well.” Harry pulls his hand out completely from under her jeans now, despite her small whine of disapproval, much more interested in the psychological analysis she has conceived of him. “Some interesting assumptions. Please,” he brings his fingers up to his face, examining the glossiness across his skin before shoving them into his mouth, “do go on.” Y/N yelps quietly at the sight of him tasting her and her reaction reminds him of a startled puppy, for some reason. It’s absolutely endearing. “No, please,” Harry removes his soaked fingers from his mouth with a wet pop, licking over the middle one more time calmly just to push her right up to the edge. “Continue.” And Y/N does, with a shaky tone and buzzing tummy. “When you give speeches and stuff at work and rallies, or when you talk at career fairs, you always love to hear the people applaud you at the end. You encourage it, actually. It doesn’t take much to guess that it translates into bed, as well.” “And you’d be right.” Harry smirks, tongue sweeping over his top teeth slowly to end up pressed against the inside of his right cheek cockily. “But here’s the difference. At work, I strive for it. In bed, it comes naturally. I never have to ask someone if they like it because by the end, they can’t stop screaming about it.”    “I’ll make sure to add that to my psychosexual research journal.” Y/N forces out the words with a tight smile as he gives her a gradual, predatory-like once-over, licking his flushed lips distractedly. Harry belts out another boyish, heart-fluttering giggle. “Go right ahead. Can’t wait to see your segment on the Discovery Channel.” And then he’s back to tonguing beneath her upper lip, the palm of the bare arm cupping her jaw as the other hand presses flat against the cold marble of the kitchen island beside her thigh. His mouth tastes of the buttery coffee cake and he smells like cinnamon and his lips are like silk as they glide wetly over her skin and Y/N can confirm that heaven really is a place on earth. Her being who she is, she’s already calculating everything down to the minute. If she stays over tonight and he makes good on his promise to work her down to a pool of lube and tears, then they will probably end up sleeping in tomorrow morning, plus it will take her a while to get used to the soreness. Consequently, this means she’ll miss the latest rerun of The Vampire Diaries (she’s rewatching the whole show for a hindsight analysis and she hates to admit it but Elena can be so fucking annoying sometimes). She will also have to push back the brunch with her mom into an actual lunch, and her car was due for an emissions check but she guesses she could miss the appointment and reschedule since her mechanic was a family friend. Grocery shopping would run late, which means that grouchy old cat lady with the purple highlights she always runs into would beat her to getting the freshest blueberries available since the market restocks late Saturday afternoons. She’ll just have to survive without blueberries for another week. All of this is whirring through Y/N’s head as Harry trails his hypnotizing mouth to the thumping pulse in her neck, mumbling something about how sweet her skin tastes.   Her eyes flutter, high on his touch and nearly imploding as he presses between her thighs, hissing against her throat as his crotch braces her’s. “So warm f’me...” Y/N thinks that she’s mentally gone through every errand she has tomorrow and decides she is willing to fuck up her schedule if it means getting fucked herself, preferably more than once and possibly in many different compromising positions. Acting on impulse, she begins to undo the tie on Harry’s his mesh shorts and she can feel his hot mouth spread into a wide simper against her juglar. But then, as her responsibilities are locking themselves away for the night in a little door in the back of her mind, something else emerges from her subconscious— something she had totally let slip. It was triggered by her thinking about her schedule, specifically because Saturday mornings, as she watches her show and crams down a bowl of Lucky Charms, is when she organizes Niall’s own schedule for the upcoming week. Thinking about Niall’s schedule is a direct correlation to work, and now that tiny annoying thought is inflating into a full on freak-out as all the alarms in Y/N’s head— which had been muted by Harry’s homey scent and the feeling of his clothed back muscles flexing beneath her fingertips— are blaring loud and proud in her ears. There’s no way she can go through with this. “H-Harry...” The word comes out choked. “Fucking hell, say it again. Say my name again like that, all breathy and soft. Please, angel.” He purrs, hips bucking forward lightly as her fingertips remain perched on the waistband of his shorts. As much as it pains Y/N, she musters up all of the will power left within her (which isn’t very much) and puts it into her voice, her tone vehement. “Harry, we have to stop.” In all of his life, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything as heartbreaking as those five words. Heartbreaking because he knows exactly what is going to come after them. Y/N is going to say that they can’t do this because of work. Because he’s her boss. Because it’s wrong and completely unprofessional. And she would be right— Harry knows this. But his business has taken up so much of him as it is— his youth, his peace of mind, his ability to let go for a bit and do something out of his nature— so he outright refuses to let it stomp all over his love life, as well. It’s the one thing he has left, and much to the comedic irony of the universe, Y/N happens to be at the center of it all. People can’t control who they fall for, but if he had seen it coming, he would have done everything in his power to try and stop it. But he didn’t see it coming. Y/N just crashed right into his life, quite literally, with her gentle smile and her witty personality and her hilarious Vine references and Harry was done in long before he even realized it. They are so close. He is so close. Y/N is in his house, his bedroom is right there. He doesn’t just want to sleep with her, he wants everything that comes with it. He wants to wake up with her in his arms, still fast asleep with her hair in tangles and her lashes resting perfectly atop her soft cheeks. He wants to make her French toast every morning and see her walk out of his room, dressed for work in her favorite pair of black dress pants and a frilly creme blouse, heels clicking against the kitchen floor. He wants her to scold him for still being in his Spider-Man pajama pants rather than ready for the office and to shove him towards the bathroom as she says she’ll finish up breakfast. Harry wants Y/N to have to use his shampoo when her’s runs out, resulting in a playful fight about how her forgetfulness causes him to always have to buy three bottles instead of one, lest he end up having to use the body wash to get the job done. Harry wants her in his hole-ridden band t-shirts, in his lap as they watch Cupcake Wars, and pressed against his back as she attempts to braid his curls but fails because of her limited hair skills. He wants to drive her to work every morning and stop by the small café down the block. Wants to order their coffees, preparing her’s with extra whipped cream, a dash of nutmeg, and exactly 3 tablespoons of honey, all just to mock her sweet tooth as they stop at a traffic light, squeezing her hand over the center console and rolling his eyes while she sticks her tongue out at him. Harry wants all the strings attached that come with being so gone for someone that the very idea of seeing them makes everything negative dissipate. It’s because of this— because of how whipped she has him— that he forces himself to back off, pulling his mouth away from her and trying to hold back the scream of sad frustration that is itching at the roof of his mouth, threatening to squeeze between the cracks of his teeth.   Even though he well knows the answer, he still asks. He needs to hear it so that he can fully draw away and detach his hand from her supple cheek and his emotions from her’s. “Why?” It’s just one syllable, but Y/N can feel that it is packed heavy with all of his longing anger. “Because of work.” And there it is, word for word verbatim. The thing is, Harry did see that coming, but it hurt the same either way. “Right.” He whispers, sighing heavily to hide the wobble in his voice. He takes a few steps back from Y/N, his hands coming up before him with his palms forward to signify surrender. Y/N wishes she didn’t miss the warmth of his touch as much as she does. When she speaks, it is nasally and sorrow, her fingers fiddling glumly in her lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head a tad, releasing a quick laugh to try and lighten up the mood but it comes out humorless and somewhat bitter. “No, it’s okay. You have a point. It’s not appropriate.” Y/N can’t stand to see him so upset. It’s obvious he is trying to hide it. His face is cast down, gaze focused on the ground with a deep grimace tilting the corners of his lips in the wrong direction and carving his dimples into his cheeks for the opposite purpose of what they’re made for. His eyelashes keep fluttering, meaning he is trying to blink something out of his eyes. The possibility of it being tears makes it feel as if someone were trying to wrench Y/N’s heart from her chest. “I don’t...” Her words strain the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what else to say...”   She just wishes he’d look at her. “I don’t either.” He sounds icy and distant. Y/N slips down awkwardly from her seat on the kitchen island and this time she makes sure not to lose her footing. Despite his cold appearance, Harry still glances up for a moment to make sure she makes it down safely, though it goes unnoticed. Their eyes catch and Y/N feels her stomach plummet down six stories. His facial expression is something she can’t make sense of. His eyes are devastatingly bleak, emerald irises holding none of his usual sly humor and kind happiness. Instead, they are a muted olive tone, glossy but not in the way she wishes they were. The frown is gone, replaced by him pursing his full lips as if calculating whether to throw her out. His arms have come up to fold across his strong chest, fists tight and tucked into the creases of the inside of his elbows. His stance is very rigid and guarded, as if he is trying to cut away any connection between the two of them. Y/N feels like she is drowning. One of her hands reaches across her body, fingers wrapping around her upper arm and squeezing nervously— an anxious mannerism. She draws into herself to feel safer, not because she feels like he’d lash out at her, but because she feels alone. “Harry, I’m really—” Harry cuts her off, his own voice monotone and stern. “I think you should go.” She allows her parted lips to come together tightly, and despite every cell in her body telling her to take the exit, her feet stay planted. She can’t leave things this shattered between them. Last time, he was drunk. Everything was forgotten and there was no mess to clean up. This time, they weren’t so lucky. “Can we just talk it out? I don’t want to leave with things so bad between us. You’re my friend and I—“ “I’m your boss.” The sentence is sharp and cuts as it intended. Harry had let it out in an overwhelming wave of sudden rage, hurt more than he’d ever care to admit. Y/N stares at him with watering eyes, blinking back her emotions. “You’re right. I’m sorry for insisting. I’ll, uhm—” her voice cracks despite her best efforts to stifle her feelings, and a hand flies up to cover her mouth to keep a sob from spilling out. “I’ll just go.” This time, Y/N’s feet don’t fight her. Her windbreaker whips behind her as she hurriedly paces out of the kitchen and through the living room, making sure her eyesight doesn’t wander towards the lamp she had praised earlier. She pauses by the table where her shoes are tucked, feeling her chest contract at the picture of Harry and his goddaughter. Y/N cannot believe she had fucked up this bad. Getting the door unlocked feels like an eternity and she angrily wonders why someone would need three separate locks on a door when the building has a security guard checking the floors every hour. It slams closed behind her, and though she didn’t mean to be so rough, it helps the gnawing in her lungs somewhat subside. Her legs take her down the dimly-lit corridor of Harry’s floor, her shadow tailing her on both walls, footsteps muffled by the thick, expensive maroon carpeting. The metal doors of elevator glint cruelly at end of the hall. Y/N jabs her thumb into the down button so hard that a flash of pain shoots up her entire hand, but she ignores it. It’s nothing compared to what is boiling at the pit of her stomach. She can hear the soft skidding of the elevator descending to her floor, the gentle thump of its arrival, and she’s squeezing in before the doors are even fully open. Nothing seems to be fast enough as she hits the lobby button and keeps clicking the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive.   The elevator lurches down ever so slightly, smooth and soundless and what else can be expected from such an expensive condominium. Y/N watches the buttons of the floors light up as she makes her way down, everything that has happened playing in fast-forward over and over behind her glassy eyes. The picture frame. The cozy clothing. The lamp. The art. The smiles. The cake. The jokes. The flirting. The fall. The giggling. The kiss. The touching. Her stopping him. Harry drawing away. Her dismounting the island again. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. Y/N apologizing. Harry drawing into himself. Telling her to— Y/N blinks once, and it’s as if she is taking a remote and back-tracking, trying to find a bit in the storyline that she had missed before. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. And suddenly, she’s flashed back to a conversation they’d had a long while back when she had offered to help him organize his desk while everyone was out for a lunch break. 

“Who knew that the refined, put-together Mr. Styles could be such a fucking slob.”  “Heyyyyy!” Harry had chucked an used up pen at her, scrunching his nose into a silly face. “Shut up.” “You shut up and learn to clean your shit.” Y/N had grumbled, picking up a half-finished, dirty stack of rose-printed Sticky Notes and throwing it into the discard pile. “My shit is what makes me unique. There’s not another messy desk like this one anywhere in the world, I can guarantee that.” He replies, holding up a protein bar wrapper and kissing it proudly. She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head and laughing as he sets it down with the other trash and pets it affectionately. “You’re so lame.” “Whatever.” After some more digging and an embarrassing amount of protein bar wrappers later, Y/N comes upon a crumble piece of paper that is worn with coffee cup stains. She unwraps it, wanting to see if it is of any importance, and comes upon an interesting discovery. “Are these...lines of a poem?” Harry’s head whips up from digging in the bottom cabinet. “Huh?” Y/N sets the notebook paper down on the glass desk and straightens it out with her palms. She then holds it up for him to see, reciting the phrases on the crumbles surface: We haven't spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever say what you want to say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way. “Oh...” Harry mumbles wistfully, his cheeks tinging the faintest shade of rose. “That.” “‘That?’” Y/N raises her eyebrows teasingly. “What is ‘that,’ exactly?” He sighs lightly, chucking an empty styrofoam cup in the throw-away pile. “Well...” Harry hesitates. He’s never really talked to anyone about this. But for some reason, Y/N seems like the right person to. He highly doubts she’ll judge him— she’s too nice— and if she read the lines and is interested in them, it must be because she likes them. That, and by the stubborn expression on her face at the moment, he knows she won’t let it go. “They’re poem lines, yeah.” Harry finally answers, nodding his head a bit and pushing up of the ground by his knees. He scratches at the back of his neck nervously. “I, uhm...I used to write when I was younger.” “Really?” The way her eyes light up soothes some of his anxiousness. “Mm-hm. I was quite fond of it, actually. Had a notebook full of lines like these and everything. But after my dad started training me to take on the company, it kind of got lost in the wind.” Harry is in front of Y/N now and she allows him to take the crinkly sheet from her gentle grasp. He loves how she had been holding the paper as if it were a piece of art— it makes his heart flutter that she regarded it as so. Makes his heart flutter enough to keep opening up. “Every now and then something will pop into my head and I’ll write it down wherever I can. I usually just throw them into the bin ‘cause I know they’ll never really amount to much, but I guess this one escaped that fate.” Harry thumbs over the dry, smudged ink, melancholy washing over his eyes as he recalls where these words had stemmed from. He had been going through a bad break-up that had derived from lack of communication, more on his part than on his partner’s. The lines appeared to be directed to someone else, but they were actually about himself. As if one cue, Y/N pipes up with a meek voice covered in curious wonder. “What do they mean?” Harry would normally never share something so emotionally intimate with anyone, but the innocent awe complimenting Y/N’s features at the moment washes his heart in a form of safe familiarity and he feels like he would tell her his deepest, darkest secrets if she asked. He finds that the explanation comes out surprisingly easy and he chalks it up to the saying that “time heals” and what not. “It’s more-so a message to myself than to someone else. I’m a very emotionally closed-off person and I never know how to properly communicate what I’m feeling. Whenever I feel angry or hurt or threatened when it comes emotions, I always shut off and become kinda cold and detached. It’s basically self-sabotage and, like...I know it is, but it’s always been my default so it’s what I always tend to do. No matter how much I want to work things out and fix whatever’s broken, I just don’t really know how to go about it. I always just settle for silence and never end up saying what I want to say.”   The office room has grown so silent, Harry could drop that worn-out pen from earlier and it would echo across the walls without a problem. He feels like he’s just peeled open his chest and bared his heart to someone he’s only known for a few months and it’s suffocating him like nothing else has before. He’s too scared to look at Y/N for fear of getting a negative reaction to his confession. But much to his relief, it goes better than he could’ve hoped for. “That’s beautiful, Harry.” He glances at her, sighing shakily, a shy smile taking up his quivering lips. “Y’mean that?” Y/N nods confidently, the palm of one of her hands coming up to smooth assuringly across the expanse of his tense back. “I really do. It’s beautiful, in tragic kind of way.” Harry snorts with amusement. “It’s nice to know that you find the inner turmoil of my soul to be artsy and tragic.” “I sure do. Shakespeare’s shook, sister.” Y/N releases a small fit of giggles and he can’t resist to joining in, feeling strangely better about a part of his life he had bottled up so long ago. “You should save it.” She suggests, patting his broad shoulder before moving to start picking up stuff to take to the trash can. “Keep it in case inspiration ever strikes again.” “Yeah...” Harry nods his head once as he glances back down at the paper thoughtfully, folding it up and slipping it into the back pocket of his trousers. “I will.” A loud ding brings Y/N out of the trip into her memories, the gilded doors of the elevator starting to crack open. Everything is hitting her at once, and she feels like she could collapse from all of the puzzle pieces knocking around the inside of her skull, connecting that specific past experience to what is happening between her and Harry presently. He had admitted to her that he was the type of personal to lock himself in when he felt emotionally threatened. He had confessed that he became cold and distant whenever he was sad. He had disclosed that his go-to mechanism for dealing with sentimental rejection was to block out the person causing it and to isolate himself in order to lick his wounds, no matter how badly he wanted to reconcile.   All of these are characteristics of the behavior he had shown tonight when Y/N had stopped what was about to go down between them. If she wanted to fix this, she was going to have to break through to him.  And for the first time, Y/N can see that Harry’s emotions for her were just as strong as her’s were for him. That it wasn’t just lust or infatuation of having something taboo, but rather actual feelings that had to do with so much more than a surface attraction. Not only this, but she also comes to terms with the fact that she had halted their actions not just because it clashed with their work situation, but because she herself had been afraid that what was going to happen between them might not have meant to Harry what is was going to mean to her. But now she knows. Knows that they are on the exact same page, emotionally and physically, and she’s not scared anymore. Not scared of what might go around at the office or of what anyone else would have to say or of what would happen after because it would be worth it— they meant more to each other than any baseless gossip.   For the first time tonight, Y/N’s body acts not only on impulse of adrenalin and hormones, but also out of impulse of the heart. She reaches up quickly, her thumb hitting the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive. Then, with trembling fingers, she clicks the button that leads back up to Harry’s floor.