#regular harry fashion

[daisiesonafield-blog]

https://twitter.com/itsyoulou28_/status/1664287999406886914?s=46&t=BRJY4ZQz89uxpR8KiGdarQ 🥹

These are not the same shorts.

Harry's are vintage, and Louis' are Oliver Spencer shorts:

You can also see how the cut and fit are different, as well as the fabric. Louis' is softer, while Harry's is a more structured classic corduroy fabric. From the brand of Louis' shorts: "Rendered from velvety corduroy, they feature an elasticated waistband for a relaxed, athletic fit":

Louis' has stitching on the bottom hem, while Harry's has an invisible hem with no stitching showing on the outside:

The pockets are also different, Louis' pocket is sewn on, you see it on the outside of the shorts, while Harry's is on the inside of the shorts (top=Louis, bottom=Harry):

Harry's also has a slit on the side, while Louis' doesn't:

So while they're similar, and of a similar style, they're not the same pair or brand of shorts.

[imasinnerimsorry]

The Girl Worth Fighting For

Well-known boxer Harry Styles has been a regular at his trainer Antonio Montez’s gym, and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. But, Antonio’s daughter Lola also comes around, and Harry wants her all to himself. Is she a girl worth fighting for?

SMUT / ANGST; Kinks include: deep penetration, face-fucking, deepthroating, riding, age gap (7 years), creampie

“Keep goin’, Styles,” Antonio yelled, encouraging Harry to hit the punching bag harder and with more vigor. With that, Harry used all of his power to hit the bag with enough impact to send the bag flying backwards each time.

It was a normal training day for Harry at Antonio’s, a gym he’s been going to since he had moved to New York and began his boxing career at 19. The owner of the place, Antonio Montez, built this place from the ground up (both literally and physically), and ever since Harry’s been there, he had treated him like he was his own son. He’d make him home cooked meals and carry them to the gym, take Harry out to sports games with him, and even give him advice in his personal life. The two men were very close.

Antonio also had a daughter, Lola, who had been helping around with errands and supplies for the gym whenever he needed them. Although Harry had been going to that gym for 6 years now, he had never seen her until recently when she started working part-time. He recalls Antonio being a divorced man, so he could put together that Lola probably lived with her mom during those 6 years. From previous conversations with her, Harry learned that she was a 20 year old student at FIT working on her degree for Fashion & Design, and was currently in her second year. She was quite a good girl: smart, obedient, a great sense of style, and a true Daddy’s girl.

But that’s not all Harry noticed about her. Lola had long beautiful brown hair with a red ombre that got brighter as her hair trailed down to her beautiful collarbones, the left one being engraved with a tattoo of a zodiac glyph (the sign of Scorpio maybe? Harry wasn’t too apt when it came to astrology). She wore glasses sometimes, but Harry assumed that she had contacts on the days she didn’t. Her body was full and beautiful; her bust spilled out of every top she wore, her thighs and ass were thick and the jiggles they made as she walked always captivated him, and her love handles accentuated her God-given curves. He noticed the stretch marks and freckles that adorned her skin. She was just perfect.

Lola walked inside of the building, carrying bags of supplies that her father asked her to buy for the gym. She placed them into the storage room and walked back out, running up to her dad and giving him a tight squeeze. “Hi, daddy!,” she said as he held her tight.

Antonio let go and smiled down at his daughter. “Mija, que paso?” He asked her, curious with how her day went.

Lola smiled. “It went well, daddy. I finished up the errands for the house this morning and took Bubba (their dog) out for a walk! I also got the supplies you said you wanted from the warehouse! See?” She pointed at the supplies settled in the storage room, a huge smile on her face as she looked up at her dad.

Her father smiled proudly, “That’s my girl! Thanks so much for the help, mija. This gym wouldn’t be what it is today without your support.”

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the glimmer of Lola’s teeth as she smiled at the praise  her father just gave her. He loved to see Lola’s beautiful smile form that arched shape on her lips, but didn’t let it distract him too much from his training. Besides, her father was right there, and Harry didn’t want him to notice how captivated he was by his daughter.

Antonio continued speaking to his daughter, until a question popped up that caught Harry by surprise. “And how was the date?”

Harry’s stomach dropped. Date? She went on a date? Or did she eat dates? What was happening? His thoughts ran wild as he continued punching the bag, his hits getting harder with every word they spoke as they continued their conversation.

Lola smiled and let out a small giggle. “I enjoyed it. He was really nice. We went to that Korean restaurant and I got some bibimbap!”

“Did he treat my baby girl well?” Antonio questioned, nudging his daughter’s shoulder in a playful way.

“Yeah, I’m planning on meeting up with him again this weekend!”

Harry punched the bag with the hardest punch he could throw, his rage fueling his fire. The bag seemed to fly all the way back because of the force of Harry’s blow. Both Antonio and Lola looked at him in shock and confusion.

Harry noticed the two’s stares, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that. I got immersed. Thought I was in a real fight.” He let out a fake snicker towards the end of his statement, and Antonio chuckled as well.

“That’s alright, Styles. It happens,” he reassured Harry, patting the boxer’s shoulder with his hand. “Continue doing what you’re doing, bud.”

***

The night came and it was finally closing time. All of the patrons left, and it was only Harry, Antonio, and Lola left in the building. Harry usually stayed until closing on some days when he really wanted to train. He genuinely enjoyed being at that gym- it was like his sanctuary or safe space where he could let off steam and be around people he cared about. Antonio and Lola being those people.

Harry sat on a bench, taking off his boxing gloves and removing his mouth guard as he noticed Antonio packing up. Lola was getting the last bit of cleaning done, and Harry watched as she bent down to sanitize one of the metal bars of the equipment. She was wearing yoga pants, and her ass looked absolutely delectable to Harry. But of course, he quickly turned away before anyone would notice, especially her father. He heard the jingling of keys come from the corner of the room as he turned around.

“Alright, honey, I’m gonna let you finish up and then close up shop,” he said Lola.

Lola got up from her position to look at her father. “Okay, Dad, I’ll do that. I’m gonna miss you.” She ran up to her dad to give him a tight embrace and a kiss on his cheek.

Antonio let out a belly-laugh. “Honey, we’re literally going to see each other at the house later. Don’t miss me too much.” He looked over to Harry. “G’night, champ! See ya next week! Make sure she does her job.”

Harry smiled at Antonio. “Same time, same place! And don’t worry; she’s in very safe hands, Tony!” He looked towards Lola, still with a huge smile on his face, and she looked right back at him, cracking a smile.

“Alright, kids! Goodnight!” Antonio pushed through the glass doors and disappeared through the night. A slight breeze came through the doors, and Lola shivered a bit.

“It’s a bit chilly tonight, huh?” She questioned Harry, who was busy packing his duffel bag. “You should put on a sweater or something before you head out.”

“Yeah,” he answered a bit plainly. “Thanks.”

Lola noticed his monotone voice. He wasn’t normally like that. Whenever they would strike up a conversation, his voice was always so expressive and colorful. He’d always look into her eyes whenever they spoke, and they would always seem to sparkle as if he were intrigued with whatever she was saying to him. It was different tonight, though.

“Harry, you alright?” She asked.

Harry quickly glanced at her, but resumed packing his bag and keeping himself busy. “Yep. I’m alright.”

“No, no, you’re not. Harry, please, tell me what’s wrong.” She was genuinely concerned about him. That was her father’s best customer. He’d always been nice to him and her. So, what was the matter?

Of course, he was irritated. He literally overheard her and her dad discussing a date she went on. A date that happened today! Why wouldn’t he be pissed?

“Just having a bad day is all,” he answered, his voice still monotone. “You sure had fun today, though,” he said, hinting at the date, which Lola noticed. His voice was laced with fire and rage, something very different and obvious to his normal speaking voice.

Lola stood in thought for a moment, looking up as if she were trying to deliberate what he was saying with her brain. A lightbulb went off all of a sudden. “A-Are you talking about my date? Well, yeah, I had fun.” She was confused. “Why?” She noticed Harry clench his fist as he grabbed his gym towel. The veins of his tattooed hand and arm popped out, showing that his anger was absolutely seeping through him. Then she realized. “Are you jealous?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his expression looking more upset than ever. He just jumped straight to the point, asking “Did you have sex with him, Lola?”

His straightforwardness caught Lola by surprise. “What?!”

“Did you and your date sleep with each other?” He started to walk over to her.

Lola was stunned by this question. It was too invasive. And why did he want to know? “You’re not my father, my brother, my man, or anyone of importance for me to tell you. You don’t own me, so why should I tell you?” She looked up directly into Harry’s eyes, only a feet inches away from her as if they were having a standoff. She furrowed her eyebrows at him angrily, wanting to try to intimidate him.

But, Harry scoffed. She looked cute when she was trying to put her foot down. He decided to stir the pot to stand his own ground. “You’re right, I don’t own you,” he paused for a second. “But I can make you mine.” He raised his eyebrow and grinned.

The woman gasped at his statement. “What do you mean by that?”

Harry took a step closer. “I can make you mine. But, only if you’ll let me.” He grabbed her by her jawline, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he looked into her eyes.

“Will you let me, Lola?”

Lola nodded slowly. She didn’t even really know what she was agreeing to, but something in here told her to. So, she did. Might as well.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he whispered into her lips. “Open ‘em- there you go.”

Lola opened her mouth at his command, not really expecting what could happen next. Her mind was dazed, and honestly she would do anything he told her too if he wanted.

Harry bent his neck a bit, so that his mouth could be over hers. Just then, he dropped some of his saliva into her mouth. It was warm and the texture was different to say the least, and Lola kept it onto her tongue with her mouth still open, awaiting for his next move.

Harry smiled and let out a small chuckle from under his breath. “You just gonna let it sit there or..?” He joked with her as he looked up and down at her current state.

Lola quickly swallowed his spit down, feeling it slide down her throat alongside her own. It was a strange yet appealing feeling. And she wanted more.

Harry grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her. It was something sloppy, wet, raw, and disgusting, the type that made a couple swallow each other’s tongues and taste each other’s souls. As he released her from the kiss, his lips bit into hers. “Good girl,” the man complimented her, noticing her flushed cheeks as he grinned. “Now,” he began to take off his sweatpants, removing one leg at a time, and Lola’s jaw dropped again as she looked at the package this man was hiding this whole time underneath, “I want you to take off your clothes, get on your knees, and prove to me why you should be mine.”

Lola couldn’t say she was prepared for this. It’s not like she hasn’t sucked dick before, but this was Harry Styles, one of the most infamous boxers in the boxing world. He was just so big… and experienced. He was 7 years older than her, and much richer than her, so how could he not have had girls in the same position as she is right now. But she had to forget about that right now, like her brain kept repeating since this whole altercation started. Just live in the moment. So, she quickly stripped herself down and got on her knees. Luckily, there was a gym mat underneath her that cushioned her joints and made this a bit more comfortable.

The man looked down upon Lola and his grin went away as he wanted to assert his dominance over her in this position. He grabbed the back of her head, taking her hair into his hands as he positioned his cock to her mouth. She pouted her lips and kissed his tip, causing Harry to let out a small gasp. “Eager little thing,” he said with a tsk. Not wanting to waste any more time, he pushed himself into her mouth. “Now, suck.”

Lola immediately started to take him, getting used to the feeling of his girth stretching out her mouth. But, as soon as she was familiar with him, she brought his tip to the back of her throat, causing her to gag. Harry was amazed at what he was seeing; the girl was trying to take him all in one go! “You’re gonna take all of me?” She nodded, her mouth taking him in deeper. “Oh, good girl,” Harry responded, drawing out the word “girl” as his nerves on the tip of his cock reacted to the back of her throat constantly hitting them.

“You’re sucking me off like a big girl, Lola,” he murmured as she continued deepthroating him, his hand caressing the back of her head. “Don’t even need me to teach you anything, love.” He removed his hands from her and put them up in a way to hint that she could take the reins as she continued to take him deep into her.

Discovering how daring this girl was, Harry wanted to try out something a bit different than the normal positions. “Alright, darling, get up off the ground f’me,”he said, pulling back her hair so that her mouth could pop off of his cock. “C’mon, we don’t have all night, princess.”

Lola managed to stand up and before she could even look at him, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up, flipping her upside-down. Lola let out a little squeak, making Harry laugh and slap her ass. “That scared you?,” he laughed again. Lola rolled her eyes, although he couldn’t see her reaction, and slapped his thigh, “Yes, you fucking dick,” she responded.

Harry stopped laughing as he noticed his view. “Look at this perfect fuckin’ cunt,” he said in awe as he looked at the sight before him. She looked like a pretty flower, in bloom and ready to be picked. Her puffy labia had a glossy sheen to them as they shone in the bright lights of the room, looking like dewy petals after it had rained. Her little clit stuck out a bit from its hood, and it was the centerpiece. He couldn’t wait to try her.

“You alright down there?” he asked as he remembered that she was literally upside down and relied on only his strength to stay in this position. He knew the blood was rushing to her head; the feeling was familiar to him as he did handstands as a part of his training.

Lola gave him a nod, but quickly realized he couldn’t see anything so she forced out a “yes”. The blood rushed to her head, but she didn’t care as all she wanted to do right now was to please the man lifting her up. Her life was in his hands so to speak because if he dropped her, she would land right on her skull, and that wouldn’t look pretty. But, Harry was built for this. His grip was tight around her lower body as he held her up, her pussy to his face as he was about to provide Lola some relief.

Harry managed to shift his pelvis towards her head, trying to find her lips with the tip of dick. Once he felt them, he shifted himself inside of her, causing her to let out a garbled moan as he managed to hit the back of her throat. He started to thrust into her mouth, while his mouth began its movements, his tongue gliding around her labia. Lola’s moans, although garbled, vibrated onto Harry’s shaft and even his balls as they slapped onto her cupid’s bow, and he could swear he was transported to heaven.

Harry’s tongue slid itself into her little hole, and he could feel every ripple of her walls as they clenched around his membrane. His chin found some way to rub against her clit, and Lola could feel the hairs of his stubble flick every nerve. The friction caused her to tap onto Harry’s thigh. Harry knew what this meant, and quickly moved himself from her mouth. “Y’alright?” he asked her, pausing his motions of his tongue to get some sort of coherent response from her. Once he heard her take a deep breath and respond with a “yes”, he thrusted his cock right back into her, immediately finding his way back to her epiglottis, and Lola started to gag. Harry could feel the drool drip down his thighs and took a quick glance to the ground, noticing her saliva make a pool by his feet. But, it was all a glorious, euphoric feeling, and Harry took that as encouragement to suck onto her clit and dip the tip of his nose into her hole. The way she smelled was just as enticing as what was taking place, and Lola was just as pleased as she could taste the man inside and all around her own mouth.

Harry removed his mouth from her lower region, using his tongue to lick up the residue that stained his lips and chin. “Alright, honey, I’m putting you down now,” he told her as he used his strength to flip the girl rightside up. He laid Lola onto the floor, rubbing his hands down her skin to make sure that she was alright. She blushed as she felt his calloused hands move down her body, not really expecting how gentle he would be with her, especially with him being a boxer and all.

Harry held onto his shaft as he shuffled his body between Lola’s legs. He opened her legs a bit more with a gentle touch, and aligned himself with the opening to her cunt, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen. “You ready, love?” Lola nodded and looked down to see what happened next.

Both Harry and Lola let out a gasp as he pushed inside.

“Oh, darling, you fit like a fuckin’ glove,” he said, a groan escaping his lips as he managed to put himself as deep as he could inside of her warm core. Lola let out little moans which pleased Harry’s ears as he knew the girl was loving this moment too.

“Ohhhh,” he drawled out in realization as he felt her cunt pulse a bit tighter after his statement. “You like being praised, huh? Being told you’re doing a good job by an older man? I noticed that with you and your daddy’s conversation earlier.” He smirked while stroking into her deeper. “A real praise slut you are. And you deserve every word.”

His thrusts were slow, yet deep, as he really wanted to really revel in the moment. He was finally fucking the beautful girl he’d always pictured himself with. And she felt like everything he wanted. Luckiest man in the world, he was.

Lola was in paradise. Her moans were guttural and low as she felt him inside of her. With every thrust, she let out a little curse or mumble underneath her breath, which were words of encouragement to Harry to keep going. She didn’t want this to end.

He started to angle his strokes upward, wanting to experiment with her and see if he could find the imprint of his cock through her lower stomach. As soon as he saw it, he rubbed in the area, and Lola cried out even louder. “You feel me right there, honey? In your tummy?” She moaned in confirmation, and her head tried to go up and down to nod along.

A couple more strokes went on and more moans were released as Harry fucking her. It was an erotic scene, almost as if they were shooting a porno. His balls consistently slapped against her perineum with every thrust and his thumb circled her little aching clit as, causing moans that Lola never experienced before with previous partners. Her walls started to clench around Harry, and he was quick to notice when a girl was about to orgasm. So he did what any man would do.

He pulled out, leaving Lola confused as she started to whimper. She almost looked like she was on the brink of tears. Harry chuckled under his breath. He didn’t want to pull out (and judging by her reaction, he could tell she didn’t want him to either) but Harry wanted to switch positions.

He decided to lay onto the mat, spreading his legs a bit, but leaving his head up to look at the girl, still whimpering because of her stalled release. “Alright, get on top of me, sweet girl,” he said, slapping his hands on his thighs for emphasis.

Lola nodded, a sweet and simple “okay”, escaping her lips as she found her way down. She swung one of her legs over him, putting herself into position above him. Harry stroked her jaw with his thumb yet again as he soothed the trembling and needy girl on top of him. He smiled, saying, “You were such a good girl taking my cock like that, sweetheart. Now, I want you to rub your pussy on my cock, okay? Just want you to get used to this position with me, yeah? Show me how you’re gonna take me. Prove to me you’re worthy of being my big girl.” His words were laced with lust, but his eyes were filled with desperation and need. As much as he wanted to feel Lola wrapped around him, he still  wanted to get her worked up a bit.

Although she really wanted him inside of her again, she obliged and placed her aching cunt onto the shaft of his cock and started her movements. His shaft started to glisten with the coating from her warmth as her labia rubbed against him; what a delicious sight for him to see. His veins were prominent and Lola swore she could count the amount he had just by feeling him underneath her. She glided on him back and forth repeatedly, which emitted moans from her mouth of pleasure, yet also yearning. She wanted to feel herself do that with his cock inside of her, wanted to feel his shaft touch every part of her from the inside.

Suddenly, Harry grabbed Lola by her hips and steadied her movements, holding her tightly in his grasp. He positioned himself a bit more comfortably, aiming his cock to her ready entrance, and started to move his lower half upwards to fuck up into her.

Lola couldn’t help but moan and throw her head back. Harry was hitting the deepest, most delicious spots inside of her more than any man had ever tried in the past. Her pussy clenched around him, causing the wetness that was already seeping through her hole to slide down his length. It created a beautiful sight for the two of them to see.

Harry kept fucking his hips up, and lowered Lola’s body a bit lower so that he could feel her as deep as he could. He managed to find an angle where the base of his shaft could glide against her G-spot while the tip of him could poke out an indentation through her lower belly, and Harry let out a moan as if he were touched by an angel. A small “yes” drew from under his breath as he continued his movements.

“Lookin’ like a pretty princess up there, riding my cock like that,” he said absent-mindedly. “You just need a tiara.” His words just sped through his mouth without censorship, his brain too focused on making sure both him and Lola were receiving pleasure. He reached his hand down to her ass and spanked one of her cheeks, and his balls felt the skin jiggle on him, making him moan. He decided to use both hands to spank each cheek interchangeably, which vibrated against his sack, another loud moan escaping his lips. And it obviously was just as pleasurable for Lola as he noticed how she squealed at every force of impact and how her cunt pulsed with every stroke of his cock.

“Look at those fuckin tits, too, fuckin’ hell,” He said, his eyes in a trance as he stared at them.  “Look at ‘em fucking bounce. Your daddy’s making you walk in a gym filled with all these gross old men havin’ a look at these? Irresponsible,” he joked, making himself laugh a bit in the process. But, the feeling of Lola’s pussy clenching around him at the praise lured him back into moaning again. “Shit- you’re somethin’ special, love.” Harry felt like he was in nirvana. He had a beautiful girl hopping on his cock like a little bunny, her tits bouncing along in circles, and her ass pounding on his balls with each thrust. Her beautiful skin was glowing with a bit of sweat, and her cunt enveloped around his cock in a way that nothing else could. It was amazing.

Lola couldn’t take it anymore. All of this pleasure circulated throughout her body- from her toes, to her pussy, to her ass, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her head, and all throughout her spine. She just couldn’t handle it, and it caused her to fall forward onto Harry’s chest. She dug her head in the spot between his shoulder and neck, giving that spot on his skin a little kiss before shifting her head so she would be able to moan and breathe without difficulty. She repeatedly called out his name as she felt her abdomen starting to heat up, indicating that she was nearing her peak.

Harry held onto her, wrapping his arms around her back and putting them in a cradling position as he continued to thrust his cock inside of her. “I’m right here, pretty girl. Look at me,” he instructed her with a gentle tone, and the girl somehow managed to tilt her head and look into his eyes. “Yeah, look at me, princess. You’re just a beauty, aren’t you?” Harry shifted one of his hands to the back of her head, allowing him to make sure that they stayed face-to-face. “My gorgeous girl. Mine. No one else’s. This is my pussy, my breasts…” He kissed the tip of her nose. “My nose”. He kissed her left cheek. “My cheek”. He finally kissed her lips, this time with more passion than the first. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth once more, her body allowing him to do so as she was still focused on her own orgasm. “My fuckin’ lips, yeah? My fuckin’ mouth.”

All of his sweet nothings traveled from Lola’s ear to her abdomen, and it helped egg on her orgasm. She finally reached her climax, and Harry was amazed at the sight he saw and the physical reactions she had. Her whole body shook and pelvis bucked repeatedly as she came, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Harry stroked the hand cradling her head through her hair as a soothing gesture, hoping that it could help ease the intensity of her orgasm. “I’m right here, darling. Right here. You’re alright,” he whispered in her ear, adding extra words to help pacify the situation.

Just as Lola was calming down, Harry could feel his orgasm nearing, and picked up his pace just a bit, but not too much to make Leila cry out. His grip on her tightened, and Lola kissed all over his face- his cheeks, his lips, his chin- to help him through his climax. Then, she could feel the little spurts of his cum fill her up from the inside.

“Take my fucking cum, Lola,” Harry grumbled into her ear as he came so deep inside of her. “Let me own you, spread my seed inside so you know you’re mine.” He let out a deep groan as he continued before saying these four words, “I love you, Lola.”

Lola’s eyes widened as she heard this sentence, but she didn’t want to make her shock obvious. She allowed Harry to finish his orgasm, and as he did, he pulled out of her and helped her come off of him. She rolled to his side and then faced him, wanting to confront him about his confession.

“You… you love me?” She asked, and Harry picked up on the genuine confusion in her voice. To be honest, it almost sounded like she was… offended?

“Yes, Lola, I’ve loved you for all this time,” the man finally admitted, tears staining his eyes. “When I noticed that date you went on,” he sniffled for a moment before continuing, “with that- that dickhead.”

Lola sat up in protest. “Harry, don’t call him a dickhead! You don’t even know h-”

Harry cut her off. “I don’t need to know him! And I don’t want to get to know him; I want to get to know you!” He took a couple breaths, his chest rising and faltering as the air went in and out of his body to calm down. He didn’t want to be too harsh with the girl.

“What I need to hear from you right now is,” he paused, wanting to stop himself from saying something he might regret and something she might be afraid of.

But, Lola wanted to know what he had to say. “Is what, Harry?”

Harry sighed and finally looked into her eyes. He noticed her crying, probably even more than he was. They were both a mess. He didn’t want her to cry, but he had to ask her one last thing. “I need to know… Do you love me, Lola?”

She didn’t know what to think honestly. Yeah, the sex was good, and Harry was pouring his heart out to her. But… something was missing.

“Harry, I appreciate you. You’ve been there for my father at the hardest parts of his life. He told me how much you meant to him. How you’ve been… like a son to him. I mean he’s known you since you were my age! You’re 27 now!” And it was all true. After every workday, her father would talk about Harry in the car and at the house. He would bring up Harry’s little awkward shuffle that he did whenever he was waiting for the restroom. He talked about how Harry went through a rough patch with a best friend, and how he was able to help him through that time. He would ramble on and on about this “Harry Styles” whenever she was at the house. She knew of him, but she didn’t know him personally.

“And then there’s you and I.  I’m so much younger than you! I mean, you’re pushing 30, and I’m barely in my 20s. We’ve only had a true conversation with each other like twice,” She showed him her index and middle finger for reference. “I told you about my student life and the hobbies I had. The only time I ever spoke to you outside of the gym was when my car broke down and Daddy said I should call you to pick me up. Even that car ride wasn’t anything meaningful to build our bond.”

Harry was enraged. “Then why would you have sex with me? Why would you make me cum inside you? That didn’t mean shit to you?”

Lola brought her head down in embarrassment, not even realizing what had just occurred before this argument until now. “I just wanted to have some fun. I don’t even really know why. Just listen, Harry, if we were to get together, it’d be weird for everyone.”

Harry sat there in silence. He didn’t really know how to respond to what she said. His mind started racing. Oh fuck, I just fucked my trainer’s daughter, he thought. I just had sex… with the daughter of the man who took care of me for so many years. Just cuz I thought she was hot? What the fuck is wrong with me? He started to hyperventilate, his heart seemingly bursting out of his chest.

All of a sudden, he stood up. Lola noticed how his skin was pale, his eyes were blank, and how his chest rose up and down at a fast pace as he hyperventilated. She reached out to grab his forearm, but Harry just nudged her off. “I have to go,” he stated so simply, his voice laced in distraught. “I just-” he sighed. “Make sure to lock up properly before you leave.” He grabbed the duffel bag with his clothes and equipment, said his goodnights and goodbyes, and pushed through the exit of the gym, leaving Lola there all alone. Tears flooded her eyes. What… just happened?

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

I ║ Palomino

Jack Daniels x f!reader

 { Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2: Buckskin }

Rating: M (will be E in future chapters)

Summary: Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

Warnings: Extremely self-indulgent solo travel romance, flirting, yearning, language, matchmaking themes, lots of horsey details, mention of breakup, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This story encompasses a lot of firsts for me - first new series since Consent, first time writing Jack, first time writing something so action-heavy and close to my heart. While I'm not 100% confident I got everything right, I am so excited about this fic. I hope you're ready for the ride (I apologise in advance for all the horsey puns incoming)!

I want to call out (affectionate) LJ @prolix-yuy for lighting a fire under my ass for cowboy Jack with her incredible Westworld AU Cognitive Dissonance. I also need to thank Ani @deadhumourist for the idea of a company retreat that I used in this chapter, and for sharing with us her amazing Jack fic Under Marula Trees. And of course, Ash @mandoblowmybackout for enduring my almost non-stop screeching about Jack ❤️

More notes in the Series Masterlist on horses and travel, etc!

Palomino: a pale golden or tan-coloured horse or pony with a white mane and tail, originally bred in the south-western US.

The door creaks long and loud on its hinges as it opens, barely letting through a bustling figure before slamming shut so hard it rattles on its heavy oak frame.

At the long-suffering frown sent his way from across the reception desk, Champ holds his hands up in apology and tip-toes in exaggerated fashion to his desk. Ginger shakes her head fondly - being quiet is not one of her employer’s strong suits.

She presently returns to the phone call she’s in the middle of, using her most placating tone on this customer. ‘Look, we have regulars coming in the same week as you. They come every year for a company retreat, and they are just the loveliest people you can meet. I promise you’ll have a great time.’

The vintage Chesterfield groans under his weight as Champ settles down, and with a practised flick of his wrist, his cowboy hat lands on its designated hook on the wall. He turns to the ledgers Harry left on his desk two days ago - he can’t keep putting them off much longer…

His mind quickly wanders. He’s a people person, and he’s always been more interested in the dude ranch holiday part of the business. However, Ginger is so good at her job that she’s made him redundant, banishing him to the whiskey distillery side of things. 

It doesn’t stop him from keeping half an ear on the ongoing phone conversation though.

‘I’m so sorry, ma’am, it’s not our policy to offer refunds. But I promise you’ll have the best birthday with us on the trip.’

Champ steeples his fingers and leans back in his chair. Ah, a customer wanting to cancel. Always tricky.

‘Tell you what - since you’ve already paid a 40% deposit for two guests, why don’t I waive the 20% balance for your holiday for one party?’

Champ arches a grey eyebrow in curiosity.

‘Alright, perfect,’ chirps Ginger brightly. ‘We look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. Bye now.’

‘What was that about?’ he asks as soon as she hangs up.

Bringing up the reservations system on her computer, she types busily as she replies, ‘A guest booked a holiday with her boyfriend, but they broke up, and she wanted a refund for both their places. I convinced her to come alone instead with the discount. She’s here the same week as the Kingsman so she definitely won’t be lonely.’

Champ gives her a double thumbs up. ‘Nicely done, Ginger. And did you say it’s her birthday while she’s here?’

‘Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll give Poppy a heads up to bake a cake in advance.’

‘Do you have a photo of her?’

Ginger’s fingers pause and hover over the keyboard, a warning in her voice. ‘Champ.’

He blinks innocently. ‘What? I’m a nosy bastard.’

With a sigh, she pulls up a Whatsapp profile picture and holds up the phone to him.

He puts on his reading glasses to look at the screen, and proceeds to nod thoughtfully. Finally, they haven’t had any single guests at the ranch for months on end. Surely, she’s his type…

‘Champ?’ Ginger’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. ‘Stop meddling!’

He feigns ignorance. ‘Whatever do you mean, ma’am?’

She rolls her eyes affectionately. ‘He’s a big boy, he doesn’t need your help.’

Champ barks in laughter. ‘Like hell he doesn’t. Call the Kingsman and reschedule them, Ginger. I have a plan.’

You’ve never travelled on your own before.

Now that you’re speeding down the empty country roads towards the Bighorn Mountains - windows down, dust flying, radio blaring - you honestly don’t know why you waited so long.

You’re glad that the woman at the Statesman stood firm when you called a month and a half ago, asking for a refund. The discount sweetens the deal too.

To be honest, the week-long dude ranch trip you booked months ago had completely slipped your mind in the aftermath of the breakup. There were more pressing matters, like - what were you going to do with the house you bought and remodelled together?

You’d just finished tiling the backsplash with the vintage Italian mosaic you found at a flea market when you were informed that he didn’t feel the same way about you anymore. In fact, he hadn’t for some time.

You were only reminded of the trip when you started clearing your stuff out of the attic, finally having found an apartment you could afford on your own that is also not a shithole. You found the riding gear that you’d stashed away, gathering dust since you two started dating.

You should be thankful that at least there’s no costly wedding venue deposit to forgo or a pet custody battle to muddle through. He’s always hated animals - you really should’ve known. 

But you can’t bring yourself to not be bitter about everything. Not yet.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re going on this trip. That lazy bastard can start pulling his weight and sort out the house viewings for potential buyers for this week. He’s been dragging his feet - just because he can afford to pay both the mortgage and rent at his new bachelor pad doesn’t mean you can too.

You shake yourself out of it and crank up the stereo. Fuck it. You’re not thinking about him or the house or anything this weekend. It’s your solo birthday getaway and you’re gonna enjoy the fuck out of it.

And who knows? If you’re lucky, you could be rebounding with a handsome cowboy, like one of those awful Unicorn Club novels you used to read over and over again when you were fifteen.

You laugh, the pull of the muscles in your cheeks unfamiliar after weeks of disuse. A girl can dream.

You switch off the ignition, hands gripping the driving wheel tightly, and you take a moment to compose yourself. 

‘You can do this,’ you murmur, giving yourself a reaffirming nod in the rear view mirror.

Hopping off your rental truck, you shut the door behind you and start towards the only building you can see, a rustic lodge with a red roof. Statesman is blazened in iron letters, nailed proudly above a wraparound porch with welcoming rocking chairs and armchairs scattered about.

The gravel beneath your sneakers crunches loudly. You can hear in the distance sounds that you haven’t heard for a long time - clip clop of hooves, the drag of a barn door on rusty hinges, the low whinny of horses. You breathe in the mountain air scented with a whiff of sweet hay. Things that were familiar once upon a time. Your chest constricts at something blooming between your ribs, and a small smile lifts the corner of your lips.

There’s a bark out of the blue, and a border collie comes zipping towards you, wagging his tail so hard that his whole bottom wriggles from side to side. You coo excitedly and crouch down to give him a cuddle when a man with grey hair emerges from the lodge. It’s a warm day, but he’s wearing a suit with a cowboy hat.

In a booming voice, he calls your name in greeting and makes his way over to you. ‘We’ve been expecting you, young lady! The name’s Champ. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

You stand and shake his proffered hand with a smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Champ. It’s good to be here.’ You gesture to the empty parking lot. ‘Am I early or something?’

‘You’re our only guest this week, actually,’ he replies in a thick Southern accent.

You scratch the back of your neck, taken by surprise. ‘Umm, but the lady I spoke to on the phone - she said that there are regulars joining? A company retreat or something?’

‘Sadly, they rescheduled. It’s just you, my dear. You’re our VIP!’ he grins and claps you on the shoulder. ‘Come! Walk with me. I’ll have someone take your bags to your room. You can leave the keys in the car, it’s safe - but you keep any food to yourself or Jameson here will run away with it!’

The border collie barks at his name and Champ scratches him behind the ear, dispatching him with a wave of his hands.

Your host starts at a brisk walk. ‘So, how was your journey, young lady?’

You have to power walk to keep up with him as the gravel fades into firm sand. ‘Long, but glad to be here. I’ve been really looking forward to getting away.’

‘First time travelling alone, I assume?’ Champ smiles at you kindly.

You nod sheepishly. ‘I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.’

He laughs. ‘You’re entitled to nerves, but I promise you, you’ll forget all about that in three, two, one -’

Right on cue, you round the back of the lodge and you can’t help the gasp that slips out as you stumble to a stop.

The full landscape of the ranch comes into view beneath your feet. A picturesque river cuts through the green sweep of land, small lodges with matching red roofs are dotted all over one side of the bank, and bigger barn-like structures stand on the other. The Bighorn Mountains tower over the entirety of the property. You see horses grazing in a huge, fenced field, tails flicking lazily at flies.

Champ practically glows at your reaction. ‘It’s taken thirty years to get to where we are. I hope it will stand for many more decades to come.’

‘It’s - stunning,’ you say rather inadequately.

Champ winks at you. ‘Wait till you go into the mountains, my dear. Come along, now.’

You resume walking side by side, and he continues, ‘Now, since you’re our only guest this week, I can give you two options for your trip. We can do day-long rides with you, and you spend the nights here at the ranch. It’s more comfortable, but it does mean that you don’t get to go as deep into the mountains.’

Champ stops to take a breath. ‘Alternatively, you can go on a week-long pack ride with our cowboy and camp along the way, just the two of you. It's a magnificent journey, I can promise you.’

It’s a lot of information to take in so quickly, and you hesitate. ‘Um - ’

He holds up a hand at you and pauses abruptly, something catching his eye. ‘Ah, speak of the devil. Before you decide, you need to meet our cowboy. He'll be your guide for the week.’

You’re craning your neck to catch a glimpse when Champ bellows so loudly that you nearly have to take cover. ‘JACK! Son! Say hello to our guest for this week before you take the horses to pasture.’

Your ears still ringing, the silhouette of a man on horseback comes into view halfway across the yard. The dust seems to magically settle and part, and a handsome face framed by a cowboy hat, a tidy moustache and a wicked sharp jawline comes into focus.

‘Whoa.’

You belatedly realise that you said that out loud when Champ wriggles his eyebrows at you.

‘Howdy, ma’am,’ the cowboy calls back, tipping his hat politely. His voice rings brightly in the space between you, but the delicious lick of his Southern drawl makes goosebumps chase across your skin. You manage a weak smile and a wave, not trusting your power of speech at the moment.

‘Be back at four to take the lovely lady on her orientation ride, alright?’

Jack gives him a two-fingered salute. ‘Got it, boss. See you soon, ma’am.’

You watch unashamedly as the cowboy smoothly steers his horse around, and with a whistle, the dozen or so horses follow suit as he canters out of view.

‘So? What say you?’ Champ interrupts your thoughts with an expectant look.

You can’t help the stupid grin that breaks upon your face. ‘The pack trip sounds good.’

Champ claps his hands together so loudly that you jump. ‘Your wish is my command, ma’am. Or rather - Jack’s.' He winks. ‘He’ll pick out a horse for you and take you for a short ride to make sure you’re comfortable before the trip starts tomorrow. Sounds good?’

‘Perfect.’

Stopping outside one of the lodges near the river, Champ sweeps his arm in a flourish. ‘There we go, this is your lovely room for tonight, with the best views of the mountains. Poppy’s left some lemonade and sandwiches inside if you need a pick-me-up, and your bags will be with you shortly. Just make sure you’re ready by four. Got it?’ 

He holds up a hand to you, and you give him a high five. ‘Got it, Champ.’

‘Welcome to the Statesman, my dear.’ 

Watching you bound up the stairs with a spring in your step, Champ gives himself an imaginary pat on the shoulder. Well done, old chap. The plan is in motion.

You lay your outfits on the large bed as you chew on a delicious sandwich, weighing the options for your afternoon ride. You packed according to the list the ranch sent in your orientation email, but you wish you’d brought something nicer. They really should’ve included a hot cowboy warning.

You wanted to spend some time on the porch and enjoy the magnificent views of the mountains from your doorstep before the ride, but by the time you’re finally happy with your choice of clothes, you’re startled by rapping on the door.

Sucking in a steadying breath and smoothing back your hair, you turn the knob.

Fuck me sideways. This man is devastatingly good-looking on close inspection.

‘Hi, again,’ you smile, hoping your words didn’t come out as squeaky as it sounded in your head.

The cowboy returns your smile with teeth and tips his hat at you - black suede with a leather band - then offers you his hand. ‘Jack Daniels. Pleasure to meet you properly, ma’am.’

You give him your name and your hand. His grip is firm and assured, the slide of his palm against yours feels weathered and rope-worn. You cross your arms self-consciously, but the words that come out are bolder than you feel. ‘So, Champ says you’re my own personal cowboy for the week?’

He chuckles and plays along, giving you a small bow. ‘I’m at your beck and call, darlin’.’

His rich voice curls around every syllable, dipping and climbing with each inflection, but the languid cadence doesn’t waver. You decide here and then that this man can call you darlin' any time he wants.

He hooks one thumb through a belt loop, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He runs his eyes up and down your body, both professionally assessing and not, lingering on your breeches, riding boots and half chaps. He arches an eyebrow at you and says in a playful tone, ‘So, I see you’re one of those fancy English riders.’

You gesture at the flannel shirt you’re wearing, the ends tied in a knot to give it a cropped fit. You think you look cute - hopefully. You choose to crack a joke, ‘Give me some credit, cowboy, I’m trying to fit in.’

He holds his hands up in surrender, pushing himself off the door. ‘My apologies, darlin’, where are my manners? The illusion is perfect. You ready to go?’

You grab your riding hat. ‘Absolutely.’

Jack takes one look at your helmet and tuts, plucking it from your fingers. ‘Oh no, that won’t do. That is one thing I don't allow on my rides. We’ll find you a real hat.’

It’s a short walk to the stables. You hang back with all the subtlety you can muster to quietly study the cowboy you’ll be sharing close quarters with for the next week. His walk is deliberate, he almost prowls, narrow hips undulating with the rhythm of his strut. When he reaches up to adjust his hat, his shirt strains over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up in the afternoon heat. Your eyes are about to dip a lot lower when he turns back to look at you, and you duck your head like you’ve been caught with your finger in the pie.

Are you imagining the touch of self-satisfaction that’s crept into his warm eyes?

‘So, how long have you been riding?’ he slows down so you can catch up with him. You’re relieved he doesn’t call you out on your very obvious appraisal of him.

You shrug. ‘Since I was a kid, but I haven’t been on a horse since - ’ You pause to rearrange your words. ‘- for almost five years. And I’ve always ridden the English way, so I don’t know how well I’ll do with Western riding.’

He brushes away your concern. ‘Western is easy, it’ll be a piece of cake for you, I’m sure.’

The stables are large and airy with rustic beams framing a vaulted ceiling. Utility barns are clustered outside in close vicinity, but all is still in the mid-afternoon hour. Your footsteps echo as you make your way down the concrete corridor, Jack’s sturdy cowboy boots treading heavier and louder than your riding boots. Large and tidy stalls line either side, some empty and some occupied.

‘The horses spend most of the summer outdoors,’ explains Jack. Stopping in front of a huge chalkboard nailed to the wall, he gestures at the daily schedule listed next to each name, written in a neat hand. ‘We keep them on a weekly roster to make sure their workload is evenly distributed.’

Resuming your slow course deeper into the stables, Jack asks conversationally, ‘What are you looking for in your horse for the week?’

It’s a broad question that you don’t quite know how to answer. You purse your lips. ‘To be honest? I don’t know, it’s been a while.’

‘Ok. Let’s put it this way - what’s important to you?’ He ticks off the options with his fingers. ‘Character? Temperament? Speed? Stamina?’

Is it just you or did his voice dip an octave on that last word?

Flustered, you struggle to come up with a reply. ‘Um - ’

Seeing that you’re overwhelmed, he wipes the slate clean with a wave of his hand. ‘I apologise, I didn’t express myself well.’ He changes tact. ‘Why don’t you tell me about your favourite horse?’

That you can do. You think about the last horse you really loved, before you met your ex, casting your mind back to long weekend afternoons at the local stables. The answer comes easily to you as your eyes fall to the tips of your black boots.

‘I like a horse that's forward-going but responsive to contact, and on the hot-blooded side with a bit of an attitude - I like a challenge.’ Feeling his eyes on you, you lift your gaze to his apologetically. ‘Sorry, was that way too vague or way too specific?’

‘Not at all. I appreciate a lady who knows what she wants,’ he reassures you, seemingly pleased at what he’s hearing. ‘I got just the horse for you.’

You must be in the middle of the stables structure now, when Jack makes a sharp right turn into a spacious room. Your eyes widen at the rows and rows of beautifully polished Western saddles, bridles and an assortment of other tack, some of which you don’t even recognise. Eyeing the signs above each saddle, you remark, ‘I see there’s a recurring theme in the names.’

Jack hoists a gorgeously embossed tan saddle off its rack on the wall, holding it against his side as if it weighs nothing, then grabs the bridle next to it and a saddle pad. ‘What do you expect from a ranch that also runs a distillery?’

Your eyebrows shoot up. ‘A distillery?’

‘Whiskey,’ he replies, making his way to the exit. ‘I’ll show you when we ride up the mountain, it’s on the other side of the ranch. Champ spends most of his time in the distillery nowadays.’

‘Can I help with anything?’ you ask, your hands feeling very empty as you trail behind him.

‘Not a chance, darlin’, you’re the guest. But you can watch if you want,’ he adds mischievously.

Lord have mercy. This man has gotten you more wound up in the last fifteen minutes with a few cheeky words than anyone has in a long time. Pull yourself together, woman.

You pass at least another dozen stalls - this is easiest the biggest stables you’ve ever seen - before Jack’s long strides ease, and at his whistle, the handsome face of a palomino pops up from behind a door. He nickers and nudges the cowboy familiarly on his arm, ears pricking up in alert when you come into view behind him.

‘Meet Scotch,’ Jack says in introduction, giving him a firm pat on the neck. With an easy swing, he rests the saddle on the top of the door and unlatches it, leaving it ajar for you to shuffle in behind him.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ you can’t help but coo, running your palm from his forehead - painted with a fetching white star - to his grey, velvety muzzle. ‘He’s sweet.’

‘Wait till you get him on the open road - he’s a speed demon.’ 

You must have let your nerves show, because Jack reassures you, ‘But only if you want him to be. He’s just as happy going steady.’

You lean against the wall as Jack makes quick work of tacking up. You admire the gentle way he fits the bridle over Scotch’s head and the bit in his mouth. Reaching out, you help untuck his white mane from the browband, etched with pretty flowery patterns, and brush out the tangles with your fingers as Jack fastens the clasps.

You can’t help but catch your bottom lip with your teeth when, with a soft grunt, the cowboy lifts the saddle over Scotch’s back. His shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans, stretches taut and you eye the hint of a soft belly underneath. It rests above an almost obnoxiously large belt buckle in the shape of - are you shitting me - a flask with Statesman spelled out in capital letters.

You quickly look away before you’re consumed by the want to reach out and check if it’s a real flask.

The Western saddle has far more bits and bobs than you’re used to, but you’re too far gone to pay attention to what Jack is doing with his nimble fingers anymore.

‘There.’ He straightens, dusts off his hands and places them on his hips, one dark eyebrow up. ‘I hope you were paying attention, ma’am, I might quiz you later.’

Oh shit. You stammer, ‘Um, I mean, you were quite quick -’

Jack crosses his arms and smirks. ‘I’m pullin’ your leg, darlin’. You’re so easy to rile up.’

Before you can restrain yourself, you take a step forward and give him a playful shove in rebuke. The joke’s on you though - the pectoral muscle underneath your palm is lean and hard, and your push makes no impact at all.

‘Employee of the year, ladies and gentlemen,’ you jest, retracting your hand reluctantly.

He leans in close and gives you an almost insolent smirk, voice dropping intimately. ‘Stop distracting me, darlin’, or we’ll never make it out of this stall.’

Fuck’s sake - your cheeks literally flame. You’re about as subtle as a bucking bronco.

Taking mercy on you, Jack herds you out of the stall with no further teasing, and Scotch follows obediently behind. You’ve barely scraped your brains back together when he stops by a doorway at the end of the stables, holding up a hand that brings the gelding to a smart square halt.

‘Stay,’ orders Jack in a stern voice as if Scotch was just a very large golden retriever - he has the colouring after all. He then nods at you. ‘Come on in, darlin’.’

Stepping into the small room, you gasp in delight - every conceivable surface is covered with cowboy hats of all colours and materials.

‘Let’s see what your size is,’ Jack mumbles to himself as he plucks some options off the wall. There’s no mirror, and you hold your breath when he steps into your space, putting one hat after the other on you as he narrows down the sizing. His face is set seriously, the bow of his upper lip drawn downward, brow wrinkled in concentration.

Eventually, you run out of oxygen and you breathe him in - summer grass, leather and smoke. Your tongue darts out and wets your suddenly dry lips.

In the minutest of glances, you catch his eyes flickering to your mouth for just a second. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t have spotted the fleeting stutter in his movements as he fits you with a cream suede hat with a brown leather braid. It sits snugly on your head without any pinch.

‘Try tipping your head forward and back,’ he instructs you, breaking the quiet tension. The hat doesn’t slip, and with a tap on the brim and a smile, he declares, ‘I think we’re good to go.’

Stepping into the open air, the bright afternoon sun makes you wince, and you pull your new hat a bit lower to shield from the light. You follow Jack across the yard, heading towards a chestnut with white stockings, fully tacked and waiting at a wooden post. Ruffling his thick mane, Jack says proudly, ‘Darlin’, meet my horse, Whiskey.’

‘How very fitting,’ you remark, smoothing a hand on his strong neck. ‘Hi, Whiskey.’

Scotch, who has been following you two dutifully, bumps noses with his friend in greeting. Reaching for his reins, Jack looks at you with a question in his eyes - all the tacking up, prepping and joking around is done. Suddenly, the likelihood of falling off your horse and flat on your bum in front of the cowboy seems extraordinarily high. Maybe you really didn’t think this through -

‘Hey,’ Jack cuts short your thoughts, chucking you gently under the chin. ‘Don’t be nervous. It’s all muscle memory - like riding a bike, you can’t forget. You do know how to ride a bike, don't you?’

Your shoulders quake with a laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood.

He tilts his head at you. ‘May I give you a leg up, darlin'?’

At your silent nod, Jack brings Scotch around, and you hope he doesn't see you wipe your sweaty palms on your breeches. One hand on the saddle horn, the other on the cantle you bend your left calf up and back by the hinge of your knee. 

Jack steps in right behind your heels, his frame dwarfing you even as he leans down at the ready. One strong hand closes around your ankle and the other just below your kneecap. His voice is deep and brushes against the shell of your ear. ‘On three, darlin’.’

He hoists you up so easily that you nearly go all the way over the other side of the saddle, but you grasp the horn just in time and land squarely in the seat, albeit a bit clumsily. You can’t help but wonder what else he can do with his easy strength - a whole lot of other things, you reckon -

Scotch shifts underneath you as he adjusts to your weight. The basic instincts of being on horseback kick in slowly but surely. You gather the reins in your non-dominant hand, put the tip of your toes through the stirrup irons, push your heels down and sit up tall. You inhale deeply and smile at Jack, who’s checking the tightness of the girth and the length of your stirrups.

‘All good?’ he asks you.

‘Yes,’ you reply, relieved that you feel less like a fish out of water than you’d feared.

Jack unties Whiskey from the post. Slotting his foot in the left stirrup, he effortlessly pushes off the ground and swings his leg over the saddle, settling gently into his seat. It’s really not fair that he’s able to do it so easily in jeans that tight.

Whiskey starts leading the way towards the back of the property and Scotch follows, obviously not pleased to be left behind. Jack holds Whiskey back so that you’re walking alongside him. ‘You’ve seen people ride Western?’ 

‘I get the general idea. Reins in my non-dominant hand. Leg aids are similar.’

‘If you want to turn to the right?’

‘Reins to the right and shift my weight the same way,’ you reply, recalling the research you did before the trip.

Jack nods approvingly. ‘Sounds like you’ve got it sorted, darlin’.’

Going up a gently sloping path, the ranch disappears behind you as you begin to climb above the property, and the landscape dramatically opens up. Your breath catches at the sight of the rolling plains that stretch too far for your eyes to see, towards the Bighorn Mountains. Scotch’s ears prick up in excitement at the space, nickering and chomping at the bit. You keep your contact on the reins light even as he prances underneath you, mindful not to pull on his mouth.

Jack smiles, and you hope you're making a good impression. ‘Wanna warm up with a little lope?’

‘Lope? You mean a canter?’ you retort jokingly.

He chuckles at your cheek. ‘Alright, ma’am, look at you with your fancy words.’

With a stern finger pointed his way, you warn him, ‘You’re not allowed to laugh if I fall off, deal?’

‘I know you won’t, but for your peace of mind, I’ll cross my heart,’ he jokes and traces the motion over his chest with his thumb. ‘After you, darlin’.’

With the lightest nudge of your heels, Scotch steps straight into a smooth canter. The sudden movement jolts you forward in the saddle and out of balance, but you quickly adjust, and your hips begin to follow the flow of the familiar four-beat motion. The wind sings in your ears over the steady rhythm of hooves hitting the earth, the mountainscape blurring into green and blue.

Jack is keeping pace next to you from a safe distance, meeting your eyes when you send the biggest grin his way.

For the first time in months, you feel joy.

The sun sets on a mild evening, so you agree to an al fresco dinner by the fire when Jack poses the question to you on your return from the afternoon ride. 

After a quick shower and changing into casual jeans and a sweater, you meet the rest of close-knit Statesman team at the dinner table, and Champ explains the logistics of the pack trip to you.

‘Since it’s just the two of you, you’ll only need one packhorse. You’ll sleep outside for the first two nights, then on the third, you’ll get to the Halfway House.’

The peculiar name piques your interest. ‘Halfway House?’

Champ chuckles. ‘Halfway as in halfway through the trip. We’ll drive out to stock up the house, bring you fresh clothes and anything you’d need for the second half of the trip back to the ranch. We’ll also collect your dirty clothes and have them laundered by the time you’re back. So make sure you pack two bags, we’ll sort them out tomorrow.’

Turning to Poppy, he starts discussing the provisions for the trip, and you take the chance to shuffle closer to Ginger. Jack is at the far end of the table, deep in conversation with a man introduced to you as Tequila (you didn’t ask), so you’re sure he can’t overhear you. You clear your throat. ‘So, I was wondering what the… lavatory arrangements are like out there?’

She gives you a encouraging smile. ‘It’s all au naturale, I’m afraid. But there are plenty of bushes so privacy won’t be an issue. We bring a portable shower for guests for the days you camp out, and there’s running water and electricity at the Halfway House. But at this time of the year, Jack usually just washes off in the river.’

Your jaw drops at that revelation, and before you can close your big mouth, you babble, ‘Wow… um, by wow I meant… bathing in the river must be… cold?’

Ginger gives you a knowing grin and clinks your glass. ‘I think you’ll have a great time on this trip, honey.’

It’s early, as the first day of a pack trip always is. The chill from daybreak still clings to the thin mountain air, but the glare of the sun is already strong, even from behind his sunglasses.

Jack runs through his usual checklists. Vetting the horses, triple checking the tack, bedding, food, supplies, first aid kit. He’s collected your bag from your doorstep and loaded it on the packhorse. You pack light, which he appreciates.

He spotted you at the breakfast table earlier, almost done with your toast, when he crossed the yard with the horses, so he reckons you’re on track to make a punctual start. With the heat forecast, he wants to make it to the cover of the forest path before midday. If you make good time, a sunset dip in the lake is on the cards.

As he double checks if all the straps on the saddle bags are properly buckled up, his routine is disrupted by a firm pat on his back.

Champ is a bundle of energy even at this early hour of the day, his suit on just the right side of presentable despite the wrinkles. ‘Have a good trip, son, and make sure you show our guest a good time. I like this one.’

‘You like everyone, Champ,’ retorts Jack, but there’s no real bite in his words. ‘Not sure it counts for much.’

‘I got a good feeling about her, I’m telling you.’ 

The younger man sighs, one hand on the rump of the packhorse and one on his hip as he braces himself for the usual spiel. ‘C’mon, boss - ’

‘You’re young, you’re single! If you insist on hiding away on this ranch in the middle of nowhere, you might as well at least try to have a good time when the opportunity presents itself.’

‘Why don’t you bother Ginger about it? She’s young and single too,’ grumbles Jack as he resumes his checks.

‘Because I know she can take care of herself. But you?’ Champ makes a face.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,’ he grumbles. ‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not hiding from anything. I actually like this job, but half the time I think you’re just trying to get rid of me.’

Spotting you over Jack’s shoulder, Champ gives him one last clasp on the arm. He leans in and says in a low voice, eyes sincere. ‘You don’t have to punish yourself forever, son. Live a little.’

Jack shakes his head as Champ moves away and calls out to you, his boisterous voice carrying even further in the cold air. He knows Champ means well. It’s not the first time he’s tried to set him up with someone, and he can confidently wager it won’t be the last. 

He knows for a fact that his boss rescheduled the Kingsman’s annual trip to engineer this one-on-one pack trip - they’ve been coming to the ranch the same time every year without fail since he started this job. He has no doubt they were more than delighted to be in cahoots with Champ in a scheme like this. 

Jack huffs a dry laugh to himself. He must be coming off as really fucking sad for Champ to go to such lengths this time. 

He straightens his well-worn denim jacket as you approach, looking almost shy this morning. You’re wearing a light fleece over what appears to be the same outfit from yesterday, hands tucked into pockets, hat dangling from the chin strap looped around your wrist.

He gives you a smile. ‘Mornin’, darlin’. Sleep well?’

‘Morning. Probably not as well I should have, considering we’ll be sleeping on the hard ground for the next couple of nights,’ you answer with a yawn, leaning on the post where the horses are waiting. You rub their noses affectionately. ‘Morning boys, how are we this fine morning?’

Jack gestures at the third horse. ‘This is Bourbon, our packhorse.’

‘Hey Bourbon.’ You give the pinto a firm pat, smoothing out his matted forelock.

‘You ready?’ asks Jack.

You put on your hat and nod determinedly. ‘Now or never.’

‘It’s not too late to back out, you know, ’ he jokes as you both start untying your horses from the post.

‘Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy,’ you quip.

When you’re both mounted, Champ and Ginger make an appearance, waving and beaming from ear to ear as you ride by. Champ grins, ‘Have fun, we’ll see you in a week! Don't come back unless you have plenty of stories to tell!’

You retrace the same path you took yesterday, up the back of the ranch and into the mountains. As the orange sun crests the top of the Bighorn, it dawns on Jack that he hasn’t spent any amount of time alone with another person for a long while, let alone seven continuous days with someone like you. 

He shakes his head. You’re a guest, that’s all. One who hasn't lost your gentle hands and soft seat despite not having spent any time in the saddle for years; who is quick on your feet yet easy to fluster; who laughs at his jokes and poorly concealed innuendos - but a guest. It’s his job to keep you safe this week, and he’s good at it. He’s done this for years and years.

Sometimes, he thinks that it’s all he has. 

Something like anxiety gnaws at his chest. You’re quiet, and he picks up on the stiffness in your shoulders. He clears his throat. ‘Nervous?’

You turn to him at his question, sucking in your bottom lip. ‘I suppose. Not about the riding, but… I’m a bit nervous about spending the week with you, to be honest. No offence.’

Well, at least he’s not the only one.

‘None taken,’ he shrugs nonchalantly. ‘And don’t worry, darlin’. Ol’ Jack doesn’t bite.’

His pulse skips a beat when you send him an almost impertinent sidelong glance. ‘I hope you do a little bit, cowboy.’

It takes him a second to let out a bark of laughter, and your whole body relaxes at the throaty sound. ‘Maybe I’m the one who should be nervous, then. Shall we stretch our legs? Start the day with a lope?’

Scotch recognises the word and whinnies, tossing his head excitedly.

A gentleman at heart, Jack adds, ‘Or later, if you prefer. We can go as fast or as slow as you want, darlin’.’

A slow heat burns under your skin at his words. Surely he must know what that sounds like, especially in that raspy drawl of his.

It must be the altitude that’s throwing your judgement out of the metaphorical window. Brazenly, you drag your eyes over him. His left hand grips the reins loosely, resting casually on the saddle horn, thick fingers of his other are splayed on his firm thigh, hips rocking to the pace of his horse.

You meet his curious stare in a challenge, imbuing your words with as much meaning as you could, letting a coy smile stretch your lips.

‘Let’s go fast, cowboy.’

As soon as your heels touch his sides, Scotch takes off at a lively stride, and Jack watches you go with a chuckle to himself.

‘Careful what you wish for now, darlin’,’ he mutters under his breath, and then he comes after you - fast.

Notes: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this first part! Comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated. If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please fill in my taglist.

If anyone is interested, there are some more horsey notes below (if it's boring, please let me know and I'll shut up lol):

About 'gentle hands' and 'soft seat': a kind rider uses 'quiet' aids to communicate with the horse (i.e. no pulling on the bit or flapping legs), and follows the horse's movements with their hips (i.e. their seat) to be gentle on the horse's back. It's a very subtle skill and you use a lot of core strength that is built over the years - sitting quietly on a horse is much harder than it looks!

If you can't tell, I ride the 'English' way and have never ridden Western. I've done as much research as I could, but if there are any inaccuracies, please let me know!

[haileybeehappy]

Between The Pages

Harry Styles AU

Summary : You are a temp that gets a job as a personal assistant for a semi-reclusive author named Harry Styles. While his regular assistant gives birth and going on maternity leave.

Word Count : 3k

Warnings : I have no idea what being a temp is like so im winging it, older harry, idk, just the starter chapter

Series Masterlist

Being a temp was not where you thought you would be at twenty three years old but here you were in a small office that smelled of copier toner and stale coffee. In an office chair with springs that dug into the backs of your thighs and a cubical neighbor who hummed the most annoying songs very out of tune. So when an email comes across your laptop for a personal assistant position for six weeks you apply immediately. You daydream of getting coffees for fashion designers and picking up celebrities dry cleaning.

So when you get a call to come in for an interview for a semi reclusive writer who was going to need an assistant while his went on maternity leave. Your dreams were a bit crushed, but you went anyways. Anything has to be better than this busy work hell. The interview is at some big office building packed full of important people.

You pulled down the skirt you were wearing to conceal your knees. Feeling cold in the A/C pumped white walled room. The walls lined with old chairs, the fabric sagging and wrinkled. Ancient faded magazines sat on dented coffee tables. The door connected to the room opens and out steps a very pregnant woman. Your name falling from her mouth. You stand and she motions for you to follow.

“So I’m going to be honest,” she says nervously. “You are the only one that has responded to the application that is qualified for it and I don’t have much time,” she tells you as you follow her waddling form down the hallway. “The job is yours if you want it,” she pauses and looks down the left and right sides of the hallways. Contemplating for an second before going right. “We can up it 200 more a week on salary,” she then stops at a door and opens it. You trail her and sit down at a table that is stacked with papers. You sit for a moment and the two of you look at each other. “So?” She asks. Slightly out of breath.

“Oh um,” you ramble. “Do I have to answer now?”

“No but if you do,” she pauses and looks down. Taking a deep breath. “We can do fifteen hundred a week on salary,” she then lets out a small groan and covers it with a cough. “I know it’s a big waving glowing red flag to hire on the spot but not much I can do from here,” her hands grasping at the handles of her chair. The skin on her knuckles stretched white.

“That’s a lot more than advertised,” is all you can think to say.

“Yeah well circumstances have changed and you would need to start tomorrow, maybe today?” She then slowly stands up. Your eyes snap open as she begins to breath heavily.

“Are you in labor?” You pop to a standing position and dash to her side. She shakes her head, pauses then shrugs.

“I don’t know I’ve never been in labor,” she groans. “And I can’t be in labor because I’m not due for another,” a scream like noise escapes her lips as she grasps onto your arm. “Two weeks. And I still have to train youuuu..” her words stretch out to a wail.

“Okay, okay, okay, well I think you are most definitely in labor. We are gonna get you to the hospital and then we can worry about this job stuff okay?” You speak calmly and she nods her head along with your words. The two of you make your way down the lobby passing many New Yorkers who don’t even then to look at the woman groaning and borderline screaming. You hail a cab and clamber into the germ infested back seat. Your hand used as her squeeze toy, your fingers pinched blue and purple and loosing feeling at the ends. “You got this,” we got this, you think. As the cab comes to a stop in front of a hospital you get out and she’s on the phone. Quickly giving you instructions and tasks and rules and people and numbers and emails and everything. Not catching all the information between the contractions. The cab driver seemingly unfazed as you tuck thirty dollars into his hand.

“And I will email you all this stuff once this is over, if it’s ever over,” she groans as she lays in the hospital bed. You are awaiting the arrival of her husband, not wanting to leave her alone. Even if she’s a stranger. “And it’s, it’s a lot. But you can do it. Hell you’re helping me through this. Which you will be paid for,” she laughs. “He is really a nice guy. Just. A little reclusive. He leaves his building, he just doesn’t leave the block. He goes to the Chinese food place and corner store on his block. And occasionally the hot dog stand on the other side of the street. But he needs help with the other stuff. Picking up dry cleaning. Running copies to the office and things like that,” she lets out quickly in two long breaths.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you nod your head. Her hands squeezing yours.

“And if you need anything. Text me. Call me. Um, i probably won’t be getting much sleep anyways,” she chuckles. You nod. “And, and, um, I need you to bring him that envelope in my bag once my husband gets here. He needs that today!” She yells out. And as she lets out a scream the door bursts open and in comes a tall man, long hair tied back into a pony tail.

“Sarah oh my god I’m so sorry,” he rushes to her side. “Baby, I promise I was as fast I could,” she grasps onto him as he comes close enough. You take a step back and wait while they hold each other for a moment. She then turns to you and points the the envelope.

“Take that to the address for Harry Styles, that’s who you will be assisting. I guess you should know that,” she smiles. “It’s in the email I sent you. He knows your coming. Take then red key ring from my bag. Those are for the building and the door. I think that’s it for now. I will call you in the morning okay?” She asks. You nod. You turn and grab the envelope before looking back at her and speak.

“Good luck,” she smiles at you.

“Thank you,” and you turn and leave. You take a long breath and stand for a moment. Processing as much of the information that you can remember. Then scrolling through your phone and find the address for Mr. Styles building. Once you find it in the Email you travel back to the lobby and hail a cab. You fidget with the envelope the entire ride. You pay the fare with the card sara gave you right before you left the hospital room, the name ‘H Styles’ written in gold letters across the black card. You hop out the cab and slowly make your way to the door. Sifting through keys as you go to open the lock. Finally finding the key it clicks open the door. Once on the elevator you take it to the top floor, it opens to a hallway and you step out with uneven footsteps. Nerves flooding your veins. No ideas how this is going to go. You have the key to open the door but you don’t know if you should use it. So you stand there a second, thinking. You raise your hand and knock three times. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Then a tumble and a crash. Footsteps towards the door. A lock slides and the door opens.

“Hello,” an accented voice speaks as the man comes into view.

“Hey,” you introduce yourself and hold out the envelope. “Sarah said that you needed this today and um so yeah,” you say as you wave around the yellow paper.

“Thank you,” he smiles as he takes the envelope from your hand. “Come in, come in,” he opens the door and moves out of the way so you could come into the apartment. You nod awkwardly and shuffle past him, “I’m Harry it’s nice to meet you,” his hand reaches out to shake yours. His hand grips around yours, large fingers cover your smaller ones. Rings cold against your skin, tattoos speckled on his hands and for arms as far as you can see.

“Nice to meet you,” an uncomfortable smile on your face.

“How is Sarah doing?” He asks as he walks further into his apartment. You follow meekly behind him.

“As okay as she can be I guess,” you shrug. “She’s gonna call me in the morning to talk more,” another awkward shrug. You don’t know what to do with your body. Your arms curled towards yourself oddly. Shifting on your feet back and forth.

“Good, good, would you like some tea? Coffee? Water?” He asks while he floats through his kitchen. You shake your head.

“No thanks I’m okay,” he looks at you blankly, thinking for a second.

“Well Sarah said that she had some stuff to give you if you could wait here just a minute,” he then disappears into the hallways behind him. You stand awkwardly and wait. Something brushes against your leg and you let out a yelp. Looking down there was a small orange cat.

“Oh hey,” you whisper down to the small feline. “You scared me little one,” you said as you reached down to let him smell you. Your hands running through his fur as he purred at you. Harry came around the corner with a large binder amount other books and papers.

“Hey honey,” you look at him, eyebrow crooked. “The cat,” he smirks at you. You nod. A smile playing at your lips. Cute.

“Hey honey,” you whimper to the cat as he rubs against your leg. “How are you? Huh?” He continues to purr while rubbing against your leg.

“He’s a grumpy old man,” Harry says dropping the large pile of papers on the counter before lowering himself to the ground and scooping Honey onto his folded legs. “Sixteen years old,” his large frame wraps around the cat like a shield as he babbles to the cat. His curly hair is lightly speckled with grays, his green eyes sparkle as he talks to the cat. Fingers scratching under his chin. “My little old man, so stink huh? Such a stink man huh?” he talks the the cat. You feel as if you’re invading their space.

“So I’m gonna take these then?” You ask as you bring yourself back to your feet. Plopping your hand on top of the stack. “What do I do with them?”

“Read them,” he looks up at you. “I’m honestly not all sure what’s all in there. That’s just what she’s been gathering up these last few weeks?” His hands still petting Honey. He looks so meek and small curled up on the floor with the large orange cat.

“Oh..” the stack seems to grow. “I guess I should get on that,” you slip your fingers under the stack before trying to lift up the papers but they are too heavy. “Oh shit,” you gasp as you fling the binders and papers and books over the edge. He is up and standing. Hands overtop yours and brings it back up to the counter.

“Let me get some bags,” he whispers into your ear as he catches you. You just nod.

“Oh. Okay,” you freeze. His disconnect from your frame sends goosebumps over your arms. Feeling cold without his contact. He walks back into the area he got the books from. You suspect it’s the hall that leads to the bedrooms of the very spacious apartment. When you heard reclusive writer you were expecting an much older man who had books stacked to the ceiling and smelled of coffee and whiskey. Not an attractive British man who baby talks to his cat. Your eyes skim the kitchen and the small sitting room attached. Picture frames covered the walls of the apartment. All the frames different shades of gold, brown and random accents of color. The photos in them range from people to places and animals. Quite a few pictures of the beautiful orange cat that has now perched himself on the counter next you and is purring as your hands mindlessly scratch at his head.

“I’ll help you carry them down yeah?” He asks, startling you. A squeak like noise leaves your throat. Your hand flying over your chest. Like you’re trying to capture the heart that seems to be beating out of your chest. “Sorry love,” he smiles. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” you shake you’re head in response.

“It’s okay I just scare easy,” you reach to grab the two reusable bags from him. “And I can carry them it’s okay,” he shrugs.

“I have to go down to get some new pens from the corner store so it’s okay,” you shrug.

“I guess I won’t fight you on it,” a light smile etched onto your features.

“You wouldn’t have won anyways,” he then guides you out of the apartment. You opening doors for him and pressing elevator buttons as he holds the two very heavy bags. For you they would have been anyways. But he carry’s them with ease, the muscles under is sage green cardigan slightly bulging. “Um,” he starts. Pulling his lips into his mouth quickly as if to think of what to say. “Thank you so much for taking this on,” his fingers fidgeting with the steps on the bag. “I really appreciate it and hope that we can make this run smoothly until sara is ready to come back,” he rambles as you finally make it to the ground floor

“Of course it’s hopefully going to be a little bit more exciting than data entry and customer service,” he lets out a small laugh.

“I hope so,” he guides you out the door and a black SUV pulls up to the curb. “Here’s your ride,” you look at him with wide eyes.

“Huh?” You ask and a small older lady comes around the side and walks in front of you. Reaching out and grasping your hand in hers.

“Hi I’m Elaine and I am Mr.Styles driver,” she says with a large smile. “Though he doesn’t go anywhere so I am your driver,” her voice is airy and happy.

“Oh um,” you can’t seem to get nah words out. Shocked. Harry introduces you to her as your brain is still running behind. A driver for a personal assistant is kind of a lot.

“There’s lots of driving in this position and cabs can get expensive,” he moves to put the binders and folders in the back seat. Leaving you room to sit behind the passenger seat. “And there’s some things that I’ll need to bring to the office and back that I just don’t trust to be transported by subway or bus,” he says nervously. Sarah has mentioned he is a very paranoid man who hides it easily, until it comes to his writing. Along with other things, hence why he doesn’t venture more than a street from his apartment building.

“Oh okay,” you then nod at him. “I will see you tomorrow?” You ask trying not to sound too nervous.

“You know where to find me,” he lets out a shy laugh. You just smile at him and pull the door closed. You give Elaine your address and she sits in thought for a second. Before signaling to merge onto the road.

“Isn’t he handsome?” Elaine speaks as she pulls out into traffic. The question startling you. Her small frame is placed atop a cushion that gives her a few inches to see past the steering wheel.

“Oh yeah I guess,” you shrug.

“It’s okay honey you can tell me the truth,” she smiles mischievously through the rear view mirror. Why is she asking you this. It seems unprofessional considering you two are basically co-workers.

“He is a little too old for me,” you tell her click open your phone. Finding the email again and trying to read through and memorize as much information as you can.

“Not at all! You seem like a mature young lady. And very beautiful,”

“Thank you Elaine but Mr.Styles is my boss and I’m a little uncomfortable with this conversation to be honest,” your voice trailing off quietly. Hoping not to offend the older woman.

“Oh of course I’m so sorry,” she shakes her head. “I won’t ask again,” she waits a few seconds before looking back to me again. “So what made you take the job?” She ask’s curiously.

“The money pays well. Sarah seemed really nice and it’s definitely better than the dead end office jobs I’ve been finding,” you shrug. “Even though it’s a temporary thing it’ll be nice to get some experience,” she nods along with your words.

“Oh good reasons,” she laughs as you pull into a spot in front of your apartment building. “Here we are,” she sighs. Turning to look at you face to face. “Right?”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond opening the door and shuffling off the seat and pulling the bags with you. Your arms straining to carry the large heavy bags. ‘Wow I really need to go back to the gym,’ you think to yourself as you make your way to the door.

“Just call me Elaine,” she smiles at you from her now open window. “And I will be here tomorrow at seven so that we can do Mr.Styles morning errands,” you Jude nod and wave. Quickly making your way into the building.

"What did I just get myself into?" you whisper to yourself as you stop onto your elevator. Elaines words running through your head. Did you think he was attractive? I mean he wasn't unattracrive? Why was that her question about him for you? Was she trying to play cupid? Weird way to start out her first day at work. "Whatever he has in store for me tomorrow better not be nearly as exciting. Today was too much,"

[which-item-poll]

The meme items DON'T include funny t-shirts

[bluewinnerangel]

While I'm still mentally screaming about the My Policeman red carpet look I also wanna point out a possible intentional difference between the Don't Worry Darling and MP looks for both the press conference and red carpet.

DWD press conference (left) vs MP press conference (right), basically here the why i think he might be comparing the two if you will through outfits: the jackets are the same but in another color. And the same goes for the red carpet looks. It's pretty simple lol, but lemme explain... Remember he (and Lambert) have done so before, at the 2021 Grammy's for instance, where Lambert explained they went for "polar opposite" looks while keeping the same silhouette, and here I think something similar has been done again. (that's also what got me started on that fking color negatives bs but this isn't about that but it's part of the post so there's that) Pretty much the story is in the difference between the two, the one helps puts emphasis on the significance of the other.

Details:

DWD:

white jacket

blue nails

blue bandana scarf covering bananadicknecklace

bird ring

MP:

same jacket but black

green nails

pearls yes absolutely and dicklace on full display

peace ring

shoe model he wears at his shows

hair more his regular style

It very well could be they just didn't have much time for the MP look but basically I'm seeing details added that are much more him, much more comfortable, more harry for MP in many ways.

BUT NOW THE IMPORTANT ONE THE RED CARPET LOOKS

DWD (left) and MP (right):

Again The Same Jacket But One Is Blue And One Is Green.

DWD:

again blue nails

again bird ring

blue suit

it's all blue just like the press conference outfit

accessories: sunglasses, and I guess a shirt with pointy ends we count as an accessory bc the green goblin didnt need one.

the details make the suit look more stiff if that's the word

My Policeman

again green nails

again peace ring

same! jacket! green suit

no shirt. he naked. he bare. he babey. he all out. he-

BIGASS FKIN GREEN ASS LILY FLOWER BLAAP GREEN FUCKING-

accessories: purse, GREEN. CARNATION. APPRECAITION BIGASS FLOWER I THINK YOU SHOULD WEAR BIG GREEN FLOWERS

and here the accessoires, everything about it, brings down the squareness of the jacket? again. words idk fashion. But it's having opposite effects is the point. one makes you relaxed the other not so much

So I mean find symbolism in this the way you want to, I'm seeing a look for DWD that looks like a policeman. It looks to me like he's found a way (for himself) to put on display how he's both. DWD = work, like Tom is the policeman, and THEN there's MP, something he's passionate about, and we see the second, the green outfit, as displayed pretty much embodying a green carnation (symbolizing queerness, esp mlm), paralleling Tom who loves a man. Basically, the green carnation look is appropriate and related to the MP premiere, to his character in the movie, but by taking the look of a policeman out of that situation, and into the DWD premiere, he's added that layer of him. And not just that, also incorporating those classic (peace ring, blue+green) details we we've grown to understand symbolise his relationship with some lad dude yk.

IN SHORT: LOVE THIS GENIUS:

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Hiii

Do you have more Ginny headcanon ?

Do you have fifteen hours?

I'd say most of my headcanons are more like deductions from canon to be honest. You can find some of them in my one-shots. Anyway, I'll try to make a list of strictly Ginny headcanons.

her favourite colour is green (which between Harry's eyes and the Harpies is basically canon, it's like saying that red being Harry's favourite colour is a headcanon)

as we all know Ginny loves cats, but seeing that her family could never afford to buy her one, she always had in mind that with her first paycheck, she would buy her first cat, and she does

when she was little she wrote adventure stories about her and The Boy Who Lived

writing was a part of her healing process after the Chamber

in her second year, Dumbledore invited her many times to play chess and it was a subtle way to bring her to open up about the diary (this is technically not canon but it's way more canon complaint that Dumbledore did this than the idea that he didn't, both from the perspective of him being a good loving man despite it all, and the cynical perspective of him wanting to know more about Riddle)

I'm a strong supporter of the universally accepted headcanon of Ginny and Sirius having late-night chats at Grimmauld Place

Ginny jokingly promised Sirius that if she and Harry would've actually ended up together (like Sirius seemed to believe) she would've called her first boy after him

as the years go by, she and Rita Skeeter develop a sort of frenemies situation (this is actually something I've been thinking of writing about for a long time)

with tpfy @takearisk-ao3 made me fall in love with the idea that Smith would remain an annoying presence in her life

she was arrested at least once while Harry was already Head Auror, it was very embarrassing for the Aurors involved

McGonagall asked her to become Head Girl but she turned it down

she was the first woman to become sports editor for the Daily Prophet (for who doesn't know this: sports journalism is an exetremely sexist field)

I can't imagine Ginny as anything but the coolest of mothers

every young Quidditch player dreams of the stamp of approval from Ginny Potter, if she says a player is going to be great then that player is going to be great, she very much has the power of influencing the players' market with her opinions

in general, I imagine Ginny as eventually a very revolutionary, iconic, and borderline intimidating figure of sports journalism, someone people would aspire to work with and become like (a sort of way less workaholic and good version of Miranda Priestly)

obviously, she published books, but I totally see her publishing also novels and I think that Ginny specifically writing children's novels in her last years would be a very full circle moment seeing that she started the story in love with The Boy Who Lived

I'm kind of into the idea of Ginny eventually starting her own newspaper (with Albus, because I headcanon him as a journalist too)

she is extremely careful in making sure Lily Luna never thinks she can't do something because she is a girl and she makes sure James and Albus never shove her aside

she loves Harry's smile (this is kind of canon, to be honest, fourth book) and she absolutely adores the sound of his laugh

she rescues animals like it's her job, the Potter house is filled with rescues (Harry is always grumpy at first about it, more because he feels like someone should be the reasonable one but secretly it's just one of the many things he loves about her)

the animals obviously have the weirdest names

she kind of likes Slughorn, in the way you like a weird uncle you see once a year

she absolutely can cook, she is the only daughter of Molly Weasley, of course she can cook, she just doesn't like doing it most of the time

even after she stops playing she still keeps doing regular physical exercise

absolutely accidental fashion icon

Ginevra was the name of her half-Italian maternal grandmother who died of a broken heart after Gideon and Fabian's deaths

she passes on to her kids her arts and crafts love, but especially to Teddy

All is well is something she started saying to Harry after he had nightmares, eventually, Harry started doing it with her too, and it sort of became their mantra

she was a bit disturbed by the fact that she would never be able to know if James and Lily would have approved of her, she went alone to their graves the day before her wedding to talk with them

this is substantially canon, but according to JKR, when yew wands (like Ginny's) get buried with their owner, a yew tree is born from the grave and I adore that image (the tree protects Harry's grave too)

I'm pretty sure I could go on for an eternity but let's stop here.

[aettuddae]

hole in one — profiles one.

⌕ synopsis: at one of the most prestigious universities in the country, where everyone is battling to be the center of attention, yu jimin is just a regular. people want her because of her beauty, but all she cares about is sharing her freaky stuff with her friends and passing her subjects. although there's one thing that might push her out of her comfort zone, revenge. when nakamura kazuha, one of the richest and most well-known students of NCU, starts to spread gossip about her for thousands of followers to see, jimin decides to get back by taking away the thing kazuha cares about the most: her perfect girlfriend, the young golf star, kwon haru.

masterlist | profiles two | chapter 1

karina's friends !

main | side

— jimin : jimin | karina. 21 years. studies economics. gamer and anime enthusiast when she's not trying to finish college successfully. she's okay with her four friends, she's not into doing socials.

— ningning : yizhuo | ningning. 20 years. studies political economy. opposite to jimin, she really likes parties and doing socials.

— winter : minjeong | winter. 20 years. studies architecture. likes harry styles.

— yunjin : 21 years. studies fashion design. unsurprisingly, she's a swiftie. very popular.

— seungkwan : 23 years. studies culinary arts. lana del rey fan. openly gay.

[scotianostra]

On 29th February 1904 the Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow, opened.

Designed by Bertie Crewe for Thomas Barrasford, the Pavilion Theatre opened at the corner of Renfield Street and Renfrew Street, Glasgow on the 29 February, 1904. It was regarded as luxurious for its time with its decor being described by the owners as “pure Louis XV”. An electrically operated sliding roof ensured good ventilation.

Performances in the early days were mainly variety, melodrama and pantomime. Many of the leading music hall artistes of the period appeared at the Pavilion, including Marie Lloyd, Little Tich, Harry Lauder, Florrie Forde, Will Fyffe, Sarah Bernhardt and a then unknown Charlie Chaplin.

Since the 1930s, the Pavilion began to host pantomimes with top name stars of the Scottish variety scene, such as Harry Gordon and Dave Willis. In more recent times it has produced plays, such as ‘The Sash’ and ‘The Steamie’.

The Pavilion Theatre is now the only privately run theatre in Scotland and one of a few unsubsidised independent theatres left in Britain.

“Defying all the odds, Glasgow’s Pavilion regularly purveys variety to this day. All the more remarkable as it is completely unsubsidised and receives no funding from the Scottish Arts Council and kindred bodies whose thoughts and cash are directed at higher cultural activities. It remains the last stronghold of a long music hall tradition in Europe’s City of Culture owing everything to a dedicated staff and patrons and nothing to the public purse.

With its imposing terra cotta facade, the Pavilion Theatre of Varieties was designed by Bertie Crewe in the grand manner for Thomas Barrasford. The domed ceiling was surmounted by an electrically controlled sliding roof for ventilation. Fine Rococo plasterwork on the circle, balcony and box fronts; decoration executed in pure Louis XV; handsome mahogany woodwork and the marble mosaic floor all lent the 1800 seat theatre an aura of splendour.

No less amusing than the dentist advertising in the Pavilion programme “painless extractions with nitrous oxide for 4/- (20p) or cocaine for 1/- (5p)”, were the press observations on the “fashionable company” which attended the Pavilion’s first house on 29th February,1904. We learn that “among the elite there was quite a preponderance of ladies and gentlemen of quality in evening dress”. Alas, class consciousness and respectability were all in Edwardian Britain!

The ‘forties and ‘fifties saw pantomime runs of sixteen weeks, the happy and hilarious summer seasons were emulated during the 1960s and early 1970s by Lex McLean. Another regular crowd puller to Renfield Street was Jack Milroy.

Lulu from Dennistoun (real name Marie Lawrie) broke box office records in 1975, Billy Connolly, Hector Nicol Andy Cameron portrayed their own distinctive brands of humour while Scottish songstresses Lena Zavaroni, , Sheena Easton, Lena Martell and Barbara Dickson also scored heavily with Pavilion audiences.

It was anything but plain sailing for the Pavilion and there was gloomy speculation of closure after incurring heavy financial losses in 1981. Spared the fate which befell the Queens, Metropole, Empire, Alhambra and Empress Theatres, the 80 years old Pavilion was rescued by James Glasgow and transformed into a modest profit maker. Smash-hit shows with Sydney Devine; spells from hypnotist Robert Halpern; pantomime with Denny Willis, and one night gigs from the foremost modern television entertainers have kept the cash tills registering.

The Pavilion also played a major role in the annual Mayfest – Glasgow’s International Festival of popular theatre, music, the arts and community programmes.

Little altered and virtually unspoilt since its inception, the seating capacity of 1449 is made up of 677 stalls, 341 circle, 413 balcony and 18 box seats. While the stiff shirts in chauffeur-driven cabs have given way to coach parties from the rural areas of Strathclyde and beyond, a policy of providing the best in live entertainment has been pursued consistently. The portents look good for the vibrant Pavilion Theatre of Varieties.”

The Pavillion is, in my view a survivor, even over the past few years tragedy has struck the area with a series of fires.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

People are screaming about tattoos but all I’m trying to zoom on is that bucket hat, is it the same daddy one he got at that one show or does it say something else ??

Hi dear,

Yes! It's the pink Daddy! hat he got from a fan and kept!

[monsterblogging]

Stuff to check out instead of Harry Potter, based on extremely specific criteria (and assuming you like movies and television series)

"I want something with a morally ambiguous educational figure with a thing for the protagonist's mom."

Trollhunters

"I want something with a funky market selling dangerous, yet exciting merchandise."

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

Pacific Rim

"I want a story where the main characters hang out in the wackiest place you can imagine with an extremely eccentric grandfather figure."

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium

Gravity Falls

"I want a story where the main character waves around a doodad that does whatever the plot requires, and sometimes spaces are bigger on the inside."

Doctor Who

"I want an old wizard who seems kinda gay but it's never confirmed."

Lord of the Rings

Wizards (Tales of Arcadia)

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium

"I want an old-fashioned, aged aesthetic with lots of visual complexity."

Knives Out

Hellboy (2004)

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

Pan's Labyrinth

The Shape of Water

Pacific Rim

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium

The Muppet Christmas Carol

"I want a story that fulfills my fantasies of an upper class teenager with an asshole father being redeemed through the power of friendship."

Avatar: The Last Airbender

"I want dark humor in a kid-friendly fantasy setting."

Adventure Time

"I want something with four guys who get up to hijinks on the regular."

It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia

[thelarriefics]

FIRST DATE FIC REC: Below are fics that feature first dates. 

📖 Take A Chance On Me by @peachypetalhazz (39k)

When Harry receives two tickets to see one of his favourite bands, he'd expected that his best mate would accompany him. However, it is soon learned that the intentions behind this so-called gift were far more wondrous than he initially thought.

📖 under your bed in new york. by @the28thofseptemberr (33k)

au; spilling coffee onto an ex, being set up on dates, and having a nosy puppy might be all louis needs to find love again

📖 A Hungry Heart by @jacaranda-bloom (27k)

Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson.

But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

Or the one where the Bake Off tent has never been so hot, and it’s got nothing to do with what’s in the ovens.

📖 You be Stunning, Baby, I'll be Stunned by @crinkle-eyed-boo (14k)

Harry and Louis go on their first date.

📖 Butterflies and Delight by @sunshineandthemoonlight  (13k)

The one where Louis is new to Grindr, Harry loves wearing fun, quirky outfits, and Ziam are always around to convince Louis to take a chance at life. Featuring Harry’s terrible jokes, Louis as a single parent, and glittery drawings of swamp monsters.

📖 In a sky full of stars, be my Northern lights by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (13k)

It's one of those nights there's nothing on the telly that Louis absently scrolls through Tinder. After swiping left on a bunch of profiles he comes face to face with a picture that stops him in his tracks. The picture is..almost sweet. It’s a boy with brown curly hair, wearing a very low cut yellow blouse, paired with a black jacket. He’s got a smile on his face and his tongue sticking out, but it’s not in any way lewd or suggestive. He just looks like he’s having a good time, and something about the innocence of it has him swiping right rather than left.

📖 Crystal Ball on the Table by @becomeawendybird (12k)

Harry Styles is just an ordinary witch from an old-fashioned Boston family trying to survive in her regular job as the fiction manager at a local bookstore and café. Her magic isn't exactly something she advertises when looking for potential new girlfriends, so when Louis Tomlinson arrives in her life like a breath of fresh air, she tries her best to hide how strongly her magic is reacting to Louis' presence.

📖 You come in waves (we crash and we roll) by @rainbowsandlovehl (11k)

Three times Louis makes a fool of himself in front of Harry and one time he doesn't.

📖 Just the Start by @littleroverlouis (9k)

Louis is a fifty-two year old divorcé who has fallen into rut. He never anticipated a forced day of self care, and a chance meeting with a charming salon owner would shake him out of his comfort zone.

📖 We Might'a Took the Long Way by @evilovesyou (8k)

The story of a perfect first date, a mind-blowing first kiss, an interfering lawsuit, a lopsided bowl, flutes of champagne, a little bit of heartbreak, a fated tiktok, and lots and lots of art.

📖 I Roll 'til I Change My Luck by @larry-hiatus (8k)

Dating is hard enough when you're gay. When Louis reveals to his Tinder matches that he uses a wheelchair and has a service dog, things tend to get even more complicated. Too bad the guys on dating apps aren't as sweet and understanding as his best friend Harry...

📖 I want your midnights by @guccistrawberries (7k)

or It all starts with a harmless round of the name game

📖 As Time Goes By by @1diamondinthesun (6k)

Wow. Louis needed to get a grip. They hadn’t even opened the wine yet, and Louis was already fantasizing about cuddling Harry.

📖 We're Getting Better With Time by @haztobegood (5k)

Or, the one where Louis is single, Harry is recently divorced, and they reconnect on Facebook forty years after they first met.

📖 sweaty palms and racing hearts by @onlythebravest (1k)

A short story of two shy, nervous and blushing boys on a date at the cinema.

[operafantomet]

Hi there! The al-mighty god for POTO costumes! I have been quite interested in Monsieur Andre's costumes(I htink he has four sets of looks in total, the one at the auction, the ione with the coat on at Hannibal, the evening dress, and the sketelon costume) and curious about the inspirations for his costumes or the style in which Andre is dressed. Is there anything reliable reference on fashion history you might suggest reading? Thank you!

Sorry for the very late reply! I have not ignored you, I've simply waited until I had the time to give you a proper reply.

First and foremost, ANDRÉ COSTUME LOVE! That happens like... never?! So yay. His first costume is the one he wears in the Auction scene, which is supposed to be set some 30 years after the main story. He wears a grand cloack with collar, and a black felt hat with pinched front. Often also a scarf, but it's not written in stone. These pieces are worn over his regular suit (to allow a quick change for Hannibal), but a long beard is usually added for the Auction scene and removed for Hannibal. Here's Maria Bjørnson's design next to Fernand Delosch's costume in Essen:

Then, for Hannibal: the same main suit, but now with a more tailored coat with fur collar, and a top hat. Both this costume and the previous are meant for outdoor wear, so in both instances we are to assume he has just arrived from somewhere outside the building. The design suggests frog fastening, but this is not often done in the stage costumes. I don't know why. The depicted managers are Steen Springborg and Morten Staugaard in Copenhagen (detail photo of Sebastian Harris in Copenhagen):

The third costume is technically one André has worn all along, but now it can be seen on its own: The black velvet tailcoat, pinstripe black trousers, golden or white waistcoat, and white shirt and bowtie. His hair and moustache is usually fluffy, and - depending on the actor - monocles or glasses can also be seen. This is formal daywear in the Victorian and Edwardian era.

The overall style has always reminded me of a portrait of the Norwegian artist Gerhard Munthe by Christian Krohg, probably the 1880s. I doubt Maria Bjørnson was familiar with it, yet I think he captures much of the essence. The sketch can be found here, and a painted portrait can be found here.

And just because the details are so beautiful, here's a closeup of Laird Mackintosh's monocle and waistcoat with blingy buttons.

The above costume is worn for the majority of the first and second act, but for the Masquerade scene André is all in! Whereas Firmin "only" dons a dramatic cloak over his regular suit, André changes into a skeleton onepiece, often sculpted and sparkly, and with a black and red cloak, and a pointed black hat.

Details of an European skeleton suit:

André's skeleton suit reminds quite a bit of what can be seen in publications from the late 19th and early 20th century. Fancy dress balls became frequent, and magazines and books followed up with numerous costume tips. This 1896 sketch rather screams André!

As for good costume references to seek out, I would actually start by looking at fashion plates. Simply because they show the ideal look, and variations over what was considered the fashion of the time. Google for fashion plates depicting men's fashion between 1880 and 1910, and I think you will find many nice references. A very random example: Fashion plate from 1894, showing formal-wear like tailcoats and evening coats (from The Met):

I don't know if this answered your question, but I hope so! :)

[grizzlyofthesea]

Dumb Vocaloid Headcanons, Part 2: Crypton Future Media/Piapro

In general

Super futuristic androids built for singing and performing

No combat abilities like the Internet Co. Vocaloids, but they look more convincingly human than the male Poids and CUL (about on par with GUMI and Lily)

Live in a mobile cyber-home since they frequently need to travel for concerts

Have a giant stash/vault of all the things their fans have given them

Getting a bit anxious about moving to Piapro Studio, but generally optimistic about it

Close with the Zero-G and Internet Co. Vocaloids

MEIKO

The fun mom friend

Meant to be 30-ish years old

Confident and outgoing

Enjoys gardening and going on long hikes

Has regular lunch outings with Mew and Chika

Will do the "hold my beer/sake/whatever I'm currently drinking" thing to show off the most unexpected, random skills

A weepy/emotional drunk

Cishet ally

Unofficially married to KAITO

KAITO

The weird but cool dad friend

About two years younger than MEIKO, both in software release and in physical age

Huge history nerd

Favorite ice cream flavor is Blue Moon

Snuggles with his scarf like a teddy bear when he's sleeping

BFFs with Gackpo and Kiyoteru

Hates waking up before 2:00 p.m.

Pansexual

Unofficially married to MEIKO

Hatsune Miku

Super sweet and kind

Loves performing with her friends more than anything

Tries her best at everything

Puts on a more stoic, "refined" persona when wearing her Append gear just because it makes her feel cool

Was so proud of Teto becoming a SynthV vocal that she cried a little bit

Also super proud of GUMI kind of becoming the new face of VOCALOID now that Crypton has stepped away

Can be a bit too concerned with helping others; has a habit of overstepping boundaries

Confused by people declaring her the creator of Minecraft and Harry Potter, but rolls with it

Aroace; romance-favorable and sex-neutral

Kagamine Rin

Len's (slightly older) twin sister

Argues with Len over truly stupid things, but they love each other in the end

Exchanges fashion tips with Una

Loves cooking and baking; has nearly perfected her recipe for orange chicken

Super strong and athletic, with her favorite sport being volleyball

Adrenaline junkie; especially loves roller coasters

Her road roller privileges have been revoked after engaging in too much tomfoolery.

Genderfae, but still very much in the "egg" phase

Kagamine Len

Rin's (slightly younger) twin brother

Argues with Rin over truly stupid things, but they love each other in the end

Runs a gaming channel on YouTube called xXxBananaVobana07xXx

Knows how to play the keytar, the theramin, and the Otamatone

The sole driver of the Kagamine road roller after Rin's last incident

Had a parkour obsession at one point

Has sort of adopted Oliver as his little brother

Cishet ally

Has a slight fanboy crush on Sachiko but is really interested in SF-A2 miki

Megurine Luka

Autistic and has alexithymia

Writes poetry in her free time; said poetry is usually dark/brooding with vivid imagery

Wants to learn how to skateboard

Sometimes does 3:00 a.m. fridge raids. Always 3:00 a.m.

Tuna is her favorite, but she loves most seafood...except for scallops.

Doesn't smile much outside of performances, but when she does, you know she means it

Cares for Miku, Rin, and Len as younger siblings (even though she was released after them)

Gave the other Cryptonloids rudimentary lessons in English before they got their English voicebanks

Biromantic asexual; not currently interested in anyone

[d-criss-news]

[UHQ] TheStandard_Vol11_Issue3 March, 2023 (PHOTO CREDITS: Amanda Demme: Blue NY Bomber Jacket, Bright patterned jacket / Lindsey Byrnes: Red back drop photos / Pierre Hennequin: B&W photo)

DAP Health’s 2023 Steve Chase Humanitarian Awards | The Standard

The Steve Chase Humanitarian Awards, DAP Health’s biggest annual fundraiser, also fondly known as The Chase returns to dazzle donors outdoors at the Palm Springs Convention Center on the evening of Saturday, March 25. Fashion, medicine, and music will take center stage at the starry annual benefit gala.

—

Up Close with Headliner Darren Criss

Darren Criss — the 36-year-old “Glee” alum who won an Emmy, a Golden Globe, and a Screen Actors Guild Award for playing gay serial killer Andrew Cunanan in Ryan Murphy’s “The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story” — may be making his professional desert debut when he headlines the 2023 The Chase for DAP Health, but he’s no stranger to the Coachella Valley. Since he reports he has a “significant amount of family in the Palm Desert,” he’s somewhat of a regular. “I’ve got all my favorite spots, let’s put it that way.” He even made it to fellow performer Harry Styles’ last North American “Love On Tour” stop (and impromptu birthday bash) on February 1 at the new Acrisure Arena.

I chatted with Criss over Zoom while he was in Los Angeles to talk about what we can expect at his show, his love of all things show biz, and his ties to queer audiences.

Tell me a bit about the show you’ll be presenting at The Chase.

When I have the opportunity to play events like this, which are very fun — I know The Chase is very big and I’m very thrilled to be there — I’m the court jester. I’m just making sure I’m servicing people having a good time. So, I tend to stray away from deep cuts [in favor of] any smattering of things that people would be familiar with from, Broadway or the stuff I did on “Glee” or just covers in general that are fun to play and that kind of seem appropriate for the vibe. I’m notorious about not coming up with a set list until a few days before. I’ll have a band [that night], so I have to be a little more fastidious with the organizing of that. The nice thing about being a musician is you’re your own accompanist. If this was just me, I wouldn’t have an answer for you. Maybe about an hour before I went on stage — ’cause I would go to the party, kind of get a vibe from people, have a couple drinks — I’d go, “OK, I think I get the playlist,” and then I’d just do it… I’d just show up and try to make people happy. You can quote me on that.

Acting, singing, or songwriting and producing — what would you say is your favorite?

That’s a great question, because usually the question is, “Which one do you consider yourself?” And my answer is, they’re all the same because they’re all connected. They’re all storytelling. It’s just different tailoring. Different dress codes. But it’s the same party, the same venue….

You know, I’ve been very lucky, where I’ve gotten to do everything. I will say the most fulfilling would probably have to be songwriting…. Songwriting and producing probably consume most of my soul.

Talking acting, is it film, TV, or theatre?

Nice work if you can get it. Listen, I’m a mercenary. I’ll be very happy to have the opportunity to work in any of those fields if they invite me to the party. Lucky me. And I’m always grateful and cherish every opportunity that comes my way. Obviously, I come from the theatre, so it kind of has my heart and soul because there is an immediacy to it. So, yeah, that might be the leading player on the field.

Between “Glee,” Ryan Murphy, and Broadway, you clearly have a lot of queer fans. Thoughts?

I think the simple answer is I’ve always felt so privileged to be included at what I deem to be the cool kids table. And that’s not me trying to be charming or sucking up to a certain demographic. I’ve spent a lifetime chasing my heroes, wanting to have the people I think are cool think I’m cool. And I’ve worked very hard for that. I’ve educated myself. I’ve tried to cultivate my life so that people I respect might go, “Hey, this kid ain’t so bad.” And a huge [number], if not the majority, of those people come from the queer community. I feel very privileged to have anybody’s attention, much less that of a community of people I think are rad. I’m just so pleased to have a seat of the table, and I hope that my conversation is interesting enough to hold their attention and to be worthy of their time.

As you know, The Chase is DAP Health’s largest annual benefit, and the organization began in 1984 as Desert AIDS Project. How have HIV and AIDS touched your life personally?

I was born in the eighties, raised in the nineties, in San Francisco. I’m from a very, very queer city during a very troubled time that didn’t see everybody survive. People’s uncles were dying. I was a little boy. You’d notice, and you’d go, “Wait, what’s going on?” But it’s something that didn’t really hit me until much later in life. When you’re old enough to understand and realize, “Holy shit, that was a pretty insane time.” I’m very lucky because I’m of a generation that got to benefit from the slow de-stigmatization and more healthy conversations around HIV and AIDS. The men and women in my circle who are living with it, when we talk about the sort of dark days of AIDS in the United States, they and I are just supremely aware of the people upon whose shoulders we get to live our day-to-day life. I consider myself very, very lucky.

Well said. Shifting gears to a lighter subject, The Chase can be quite the fashionista extravaganza. So, here’s the most important question: Have you picked out your outfit?

Oh, girl. Um, no. [Laughs] And I’m not proud about it. I gotta get on it. Thanks for reminding me. I gotta get a set list together and an outfit. It’s literally the two things that are required of me. And I don’t have either one right now.

PHOTO CREDITS: Amanda Demme: Blue NY Bomber Jacket, Bright patterned jacket / Lindsey Byrnes: Red back drop photos / Pierre Hennequin: B&W photo

[pan-fried-autism]

Lab Accident Chapter 4: Marching to the Hare

Characters: Swap!Leonid (@bowlerhatwearer), Swap!Jack, other people

Summary: Leonid finds his target.

Thursday, May 21.

Still don't know much about JacksnJackson.

Things I know and learned:

works at BUsiness finances Inc

28 year old

has wife?

apparently funny

Don't know the location of his residence.

With that, Leonid clicked his pen, putting the tip back into the chamber.

He lay back on his hotel room bed with a sigh.

He'd been trying for the past two days to find Jack, or at least his home... but he couldn't. He couldn't exactly ask his coworkers either-- to him, if he was here to visit Jack, wouldn't he already know? The man just never seemed to exist in the same area as him, too.

He sat up a bit, looking at his phone screen. The messages app was open.

'Hello, Detective. have you found my son yet? signed J Harris Sr.'

Leo couldn't help but giggle as he replied to Mr. Harris.

'No, I haven't yet. But I'm trying.'

Send.

Leonid went back to lying down, still unsure of what to do in the situation. Any thinking was interrupted, however, by a sound-- a rumbling from his stomach.

Leonid turned his head to the alarm clock by the bed.

5:09 pm.

Eh. Might as well get dinner.

Leonid sat up and picked his phone back up, going into Maps to search around New Anderville.

A few caught his eye-- The Coffery, Yappy Hour Bar and Grill, Minhs Din-Din, a downtown McDonalds, Pubbingtons, Greasy Joe's-- so he checked out their reviews.

Nothing too impressive, however... The Coffery only had fish and chips and liver and gravy as dinner options, Greasy Joe's was mainly for families with small kids, and the McDonalds had the 3rd lowest ratings of any McDonalds location worldwide.

That left Yappy Hour, Pubbingtons, and Minh's.

He decided to check out Yappy Hour a little more, seeing what they had on the menu... and something caught his eye.

'Boney Thursday today! From 5-8pm, all ribs and wings are half off! Try our delicious Mexican Grilled Ribs and Beer Battered Chicken Wings at a discount!'

Leonid's stomach growled.

He hadn't had ribs in a while.

The detective got out of bed, mind set on the prospect of ribs, and left the room.

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

No wonder they call this place Yappy Hour, thought Leo. It's LOUD in here.

In fact, it was so loud, Leonid didn't even hear the bell above the front door ring.

All around, he could see people at the tables and the bar, eating and chatting away while occasionally watching the sports on the TV. He felt himself cringe at the slight increase in noise as he walked up to the stand, where the seater stood.

They saw him and cleared their throat. “Table for?…”

“Table for one.”

“Just a moment.”

The seater walked away for a few seconds.

After those seconds, they came back, quickly grabbing a menu,

"I'll lead you to your table, sir."

Leonid followed the seater to a table, where one side had both seats, and the other had regular chairs.

As the seater placed the menu on the table, Leonid sat in a booth chair, reclining into the leather padding.

The seater leaned down a bit. "A waiter will be with you soon."

They left as quick as that.

Leo opened the menu, taking a look at some of the menu items (ginger beef on johnnycakes, spicy poutine, chicken wings and fries, hot-smoked salmon sandwich) as he sighed a bit.

He couldn't help looking around the pub as he moped in his thoughts. Look at me, he thought, sitting around in some pub while a kidnapping suspect is on the loose. What kind of detective am I?! His FAMILY'S paying me to find him and I can't even find one measly--

-- Holy shit.

Across from him was Jack Harris.

... Or at least he thought it was. From the back view at least, the hare matched the description of Jack-- chestnut brown fur, smoothly brushed headfur, wide eyes, mediocre fashion sense. He was sitting at a table with about four other people, all of them in different business garb.

It had to be him.

As he was looking, one of the people there happened to see him. Leo recognized him-- he was the grolar bear he first talked about Jack to. The man tapped the hare on the shoulder and started pointing to Leo, speaking words Leo couldn't hear over the other patrons. The hare turned around.

He looked exactly like Jack.

It HAD to be him.

The hare got up with a smile and walked over to Leonid, sitting down at the chair as Leonid continued gawking at him.

Finally, the hare opened his mouth and spoke.

"So... you're a college buddy, huh?"

Leo gulped a bit and composed himself. "UH. Yes."

The hare chuckled. "I didn't know a detective could have to go to the Missoury Economics Collegiate, let alone take courses in business."

"Wh-- how did you know I was a detective?"

"Ruben told me. Plus, your badge is sticking out of your pocket."

Sheepishly pushing the badge back down, Leonid cleared his throat and put on his best serious detective voice.

"Truthfully, I've never went to college with you. I'm Leonid Aksakov, Private Investigator."

"Jack Harris. Charmed."

I KNEW IT! Leonid shouted in his mind. Out loud, he continued.

"I've come to ask you some questions, Mr. Harris."

"About what?"

"Well... a few months ago, a woman named Grementine Mewton went missing. I was told you were a former associate of hers."

A strange look seemed to pass over Jack's face after he said that. Before Jack could respond, however, a shadow loomed over the table.

Leonid looked up and met the eye of the waiter-- a moose, looking to be around 8 feet tall. His nametag read "Steven".

"Are you gentlemen ready to order?" The moose asked in a deep, gentle voice.

Leonid's eyes flickered between him and Jack before he answered.

'I-- uh, yeah, we're ready."

Out of the corner of his eye, Leonid almost swore he saw Jack's eye twitch.

"Alright, then. I'm obliged to inform you that today is Boney Thursday, and you get half off any wings or ribs you order." the waiter replied.

"I'm aware, thank you." replied Leonid, going back to the menu.

Jack raised a finger. "If you can, I'll have a tall drink of water." he announced.

Steven the waiter chuckled a bit. "If you say so, Mr. Harris. What about you, sir?"

"Glass of Pepsi." piped Leo.

Steven wrote it down on the pad.

"Alright, Pepsi and water... what about your meals?

Leonid went back to the ribs and wings, looking over the potential foods-- Mexican Barbeque Ribs, Ginger Ribs & Peameal, Classic Hot & Smoky, Mooseback Ribs, and--

"... What are Maple Fried Ribs?"

"We coat the ribs in maple syrup and Panko breadcrumbs before deep frying them."

The detective grimaced. "I'll have the Mooseback Ribs."

"And for your side?"

"Uh... curly fries?"

"Got it."

"I'll have the Beer Battered Wings and a side salad, please." stated Jack.

Steven scribbled their orders down, before putting the notepad back in his pocket, simply saying, "Your orders will be ready in a little while."

With that, he sauntered away, giving Leonid a little wink as he did.

Flustered and a little confused, Leo shook away the blush on his face and refocused on Jack.

"Again, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Ms. Mewton." he restated.

"Sure, shoot!" Jack replied, elbows on the table and holding up his head.

Jack took the notepad he usually kept around in his backpocket, a golf pencil besides it. He took a deep breath.

Well, I know Ms. Mothgo didn't paint that good of a picture of you, he thought to himself. Let's see if you really ARE a piece of work.

"Alright, Jack-- what was Ms. Mewton like?"

Jack let out a dreamy sigh. "Beautiful... stunning... smart... tantalizing... feisty... mysterious... basically the most desirable woman you could ever ask for."

Trying not to frown, Leonid pencilled in his answer.

"What is your relationship to (or with) her?"

A wistful look with a touch of real sadness washed over Jack's face as he answered again. "She was... my first love. We dated for five positively dreamlike months until she... she dumped me. Since then, we'd see each other around sometimes, maybe talk a bit here and there."

Leonid nodded, writing that down as well (along with a little note reading 'Что за неудачник...').

"When did you see her last?"

"Back in November. The 15th I think. Saw her getting stuff at a grocery store and we chatted a bit."

"'Bout what?"

"Y'know... life stuff. How we were doing in them. She told me she was going away for a little bit."

Scribble scribble.

"Did you know her specific plans?"

"Naw, she wouldn't say. She was being weirdly secretive. That's part of why I like her so much. I love figuring out how she works."

Scribble scribble scribble scribble.

"Do you know anyone who may wish ill will upon her?"

"I know two."

Leonid raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Her dads-- Lionel and Lupus Mewton. They never had a great relationship. Lionel's a doctor, Lupus is a bigshot lawyer, they had great expectations of her. Grem wasn't entirely keen on those expectations, and she could be a bit... troublesome, too."

Leo nodded. "Do you know where they live?"

"Hometon, Missoury, 45 [STREET NAME]."

The detective jotted it down.

"Now, I want to talk about something your cousin said... Does Paula Lopez ring a bell?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, she's my aunt Luanne and Uncle Anton's kid. I'm guessing you know she took my house?"

"Yes. She mentioned you had a lot of 'weird pictures' of a girl in your house. I was wondering what that was about."

Jack scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Man, ever since she married Cary, she's been overthinking everything. I get she's got little kids, but you don't gotta look into things so much! Anyway, I had a couple pictures of Grem around the house, mostly from when we were dating... they're just nice keepsakes. I left 'em behind when me and the wife moved."

A-HA.

Quickling scribbling that down, Leonid got to the last question:

"Can I hear about your wife?"

The dreamy look returned to Jack's face.

"Claire is... amazing." he sighed. "I couldn't ask for anyone better. She's so nice, and caring, and smart... I can see us staying together, til death do us part."

Leonid nodded again, writing this information down-- as well as underlining his wife's name.

"Thank you for answering all of my questions, Mr. Harris." Leonid stated, putting away the pad and pencil. "I hope it wasn't too botherso-"

The two were interrupted by plates.

Specifically plates being placed quite quickly in front of them (along with glasses, though they were drowned out by the sound of ceramic against hardwood). On Leonid's plate was a rack of very large ribs, over twice the size of any regular ribs he'd been given before, drowning in a spicy-smelling sauce. Next to it was a steaming pile of crispy curly fries. Jack's plate had 4-5 chicken wings in flaky batter, plus some Caesar salad.

The waiter-- Steven again-- looked down at them with a grin.

"Bon Appetit, you two."

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

Leonid only managed to finish half of the moose ribs.

As delicious as they were, he simply couldn't handle the amount of food he'd been given. He only got a third of the way through the fries, too.

While Leonid suffered where he sat, Jack picked the last of the meat off his wings using his large front teeth. Sitting back with a sigh, he chirped, "It was nice talkin' to you, detective. I hope I could answer your questions well!"

"Same for me," Leonid groaned out, "You've been a valuable source."

Steven the waiter came back with a checkbook and portable card scanner. "I'm here for the bill, now."

Leonid started reaching into his pocket, but Jack spoke up with "It's alright, Leonid." before taking out his wallet.

"You... You're paying for me?" Leo blurted.

Jack nodded sagely as he tapped his card again the machine.

A receipt was printed out (which Steven briefly scribbled on) before he gave it to Jack.

"Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." He crooned.

With that, the moose was gone again.

Jack briefly looked over the receipt before handing it to Leonid, explaining, "I think this is for you."

Leonid took a look of his own.

Under the amount paid was a phone number and a doodle of a moose.

Blushing furiously, Leonid stuffed it into his pocket before getting up.

"Well... I'm gonna be leaving now. I'd get a takeout box, but I don't think I can handle any more of this."

"Same here," Jack responded, "I don't think there's any room for the crumbs on my plate. I don't think my wife'll want 'em either."

"I see then. Goodbye, Harris."

"Bye, detective!"

So they both left.

In the parking lot, leaning against his car, Leonid took a drag off a cigarette as he reflected on his encouter with Jack.

Well... I know he's annoying, that's for sure. I'm still not sure if he IS a kidnapper, but... it's a bit weird how his wife has Grementine's original name. Plus, the way he answered didn't really feel right.

Oh well. Maybe his wife has answers?