#I saw someone saying that it was wrong to shit on COCO CHANEL of all people because she 'help shape the industry' like that's a good

[thottybrucewayne]

Fashion girlies are spineless, we know this. But I find this insistence on trying to blend both faux activism and praise of the bigots and fascists in the industry of yesteryear aggravating. If you spend more time waxing poetic about how Coco Chanel, John Galiano, or Karl Lagerfeld's work shaped the industry than you do detailing the various bigoted or outright fascist things said or did, what do you think your audience is going to come away with? How do you not see that you're lowkey painting their actions as just flaws of an artistic genius and visionary? Are the pretty shapes and colors more important to you than the human cost of their bigoted ideals? Really?

[dameronology]

cigarette daydreams (javier pena)

summary: javier pena has been admiring you from a distance for a while - you're young, pretty, and sharp as a goddamn knife. it's just a shame you can't roll your own cigarettes.

warnings: like...this whole thing is just one big mention of smoking. don't smoke in 2022 kids. especially not inside. but in a fan fic set in colombia in the 1980s?? i'll allow it. also swearing and implied age gap.

i haven't written for javi for a while and this idea just hit me in the smoking area of a nightclub so naturally i left early to write it. i don't know what that says about me. enjoy.

- jazz xx

You’d just turned up at the office one day.

Javier couldn’t quite put his finger on when he first saw you. He’d got a glance at the back of your head in the break-room one time, and then from there on out, you’d sort of just been there. In the office, coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other, and out in the parking lot, grinding the gears of your 1974 Jeep just enough to make him cringe.

Everyone in the office took notice of you - it was hard not to, really. Not with the way your heels tapped on the lino floors of the DEA office, or the way you breezed past all your co-workers in a cloud of Coco Chanel and the faded smell of tobacco. It took a lot to turn up every morning ready to speak over men three times your age and tell them that they were wrong; even more so to insist that running after Pablo Escobar in your Louboutins was a completely doable task. There hadn’t been someone like you in the office before. Maybe that was why everyone stared.

Javier Peña was no different; wherever you went, there was a pair of brown eyes following you. To the filing cabinet, to the trash can, to the coffee pot. You moved with such grace and such pose that he could only wonder why you chose to spend ten hours a day at your desk, highlighting case files and passing on information to your uppers. It wasn’t like they’d ever let you out in the field. You’d asked your boss once and he’d laughed. Told you to sit back down and be pretty. You would have hit him over the head if it wasn’t considered gross misconduct.

Javier never managed to actually strike up a conversation with you. Very rarely was he left stumped by a woman; it was normally the opposite, in fact. It was just that coming face-to-face with you seemed like the most terrifying thing known to man. And considering his line of work, that was really saying something.

You seemed like a hard person to talk to - always had the vibe that you didn’t want to be bothered. Nobody could blame you, not in an office full of men who did nothing but stare at your ass whenever you walked past. It was self preservation, really.

He never felt like he could reach you – not until he found you perched out on the steps of the DEA office at 11PM. He’d pulled another late one, trying to pull together enough paperwork so that he could have a relaxing weekend. The bull-pen had completely empty inside, so he hadn’t expected to see anyone. Especially not you.

You were sat on the bottom step, heels kicked off and bag and jacket strewn to the ground. The air was still thick with the Colombian heat; not enough to make your stick to the back of your neck, but certainly enough for your shirt to. The roads were completely quiet now, with the only occasional taxis passing, and crickets quietly chirping in the distance. A cold breeze would come past every so often - that was the only sign that it was Winter, really.

“So, you can’t roll a cigarette?”

You glanced up at Javier, eyes wide with surprise. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Only long enough to see you drop half your tobacco to the ground.”

“Of course,” you snorted. “Steve Murphy, right?”

“Javier Peña,” he corrected you. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Shit, sorry,” you bit your lip. “Be my guest, Peña.”

“Easy enough mistake to make,” Javier continued, dropping down beside you. “Because it makes sense for the white man to have a latino name-”

“- you two are always lumped together as Peña and Murphy,” you shot back. “I never stared at either of you long enough to work out which is which.”

Shame, he thought.

“Here,” he reached over and took the cigarette papers from your hand. “You’re really shit at this.”

“I can’t be good at everything,” you replied. “Try as I might.”

“Sounds tiring,” Javi said. “Why don’t you smoke straights like the rest of the guys here?”

“I normally do,” you explained. “I left them in the glovebox of my car and it’s in the shop, I only had my back-up tobacco in my desk drawer.”

“Back up tobacco?”

“A good agent is always prepared,” you winked at him. “Even if I can’t roll the damn shit.”

“You could have just asked one of the guys, couldn’t you?” he asked. “Between us, there’s probably about a hundred cigarettes rattling around in that house.”

“And willingly strike up a conversation where I’m called sweetheart, darling and honey ten times?” you challenged. “There’s a reason I stick to myself, Peña. The guys in that office don’t take me seriously.”

“They should,” Javier countered. “You were responsible for half of Uncle Sam’s takedowns last year. Florida, was it?”

“And New York,” you replied. “They transferred me out here for a promotion. It never struck me that the sexism out here could be worse than back there. There’s some real backwards thinking in this place.”

“I agree,” he said. “Don’t listen to them, though. Half of them are desk jockeys and the other half are corrupt. You keep your head up and people are bound to notice you eventually.”

“Eventually,” you groaned. “That’s always what I want to hear.”

Javi snorted, tossing aside your shittily rolled cigarette - he’d given in. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own, handing you a straight. You didn’t care to look at the brand but if his taste in cigarettes was anything like his aftershave, they were probably flashy and expensive. But after hours of not being able to roll your own and craving nicotine, you just shoved the damn thing in your mouth and snatched the lighter from his hand. Some itches needed to be scratched and they couldn’t wait.

“Shit, that’s good,” you murmured. “It’s only been like…six hours. I really need to cut down.”

“Six hours?” Javi’s eyebrows shot up. “Mierda. You make my chain smoking look bad.”

“My acrylics go to shit way quicker if I chain smoke,” you stuck your hand, waggling your bright red nails at Javier.

“Seems like a lotta effort just for work, no?”

“I could say the same about your mustache,” you shot back. “Why’d you spend so much time on something that’s just gonna scratch the fuck outta the people you kiss?”

“Hey - don’t hate it til you try it.”

“Please,” you snorted. “I’ve known you ten minutes. At least buy me a drink before you invite me to kiss you-”

“ - I didn’t mean it like that,” Javi groaned. “But hey - is that an invite too?”

“To buy me a drink?” you smiled at him. Your eyes met his for a second, trailing up and down his figure until they settled back. “You’re not ugy. And you’re not my superior, either so…why the fuck not?”

“Maybe I can teach you how to roll properly too.”

“No need,” you dusted up your skirt and stood up. “I can just steal your cigarettes.”

Brown eyes followed after you, down the steps and towards the only car left in the parking lot.

“You can have my house if you want.”

[amphtaminedreams]

Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 Plus a Little Jacquemus: Okay, Dior DID Suck (Part 1/2)

Hi to anyone reading,

Oh my god. I completely forgot there was also 2 haute couture weeks. I FEEL SO OVERWHELMED. Here I was getting all geared up for the F/W 2020 shows and suddenly it’s Jean Paul Gaultier’s last show and everybody’s (predictably) buzzing about the Jacquemus collection. I can’t keep up. But Haute Couture week is a lot less intense than the RTW shows so I suppose I should be enjoying this relative peace whilst I can. 

I remember my last post about Haute Couture week opened with me defending Maria Grazia from the wrath of the internet; if Jacquemus is social media’s Lord and Saviour, this woman is the Antichrist. She’s Michael Langdon minus the dramatic flair. But the thing is, I genuinely really liked the Dior collection last time. Maybe because I was newer to the discipline of scouring Vogue Runway, but the lack of originality didn’t bother me; it was still something I’d die to wear, gothic yet delicate and relevant for 2019. 

That being said, this time round, I have to open by doing the exact opposite and concurring: this time round, Dior was in fact, utter shit.

I feel mean saying it but...really? These were the slightly more salvageable outfits and my favourite of the bunch, and to be honest they don’t really capture the full extent of how outdated this collection was to me. I know that the concept behind the show was this idea of the divine feminine but Greek Goddess has been done SO many times. If you’re gonna go down that route, you have to bring something new, elevate it in some way. It can’t be THIS generic.

I can’t believe that in 2020 we’re really seeing plaited hairbands. The individual dresses are basic, but not so much the problem as the styling; they look like outfits I would’ve put together back in 2012. That’s not an exaggeration. I think even 2013 me would appreciate that you need to make things a little twisty. 

The colour scheme is pretty, don’t get me wrong, and I like the cowl necks-the white dresses are the highlights. I think the concept of this collection was conceived with all the best intentions. But as a designer you need to take risks and I don’t see one single risk here; there isn’t anything that wouldn’t already be sold in your local H&M. Dior is such an established brand, Maria Grazia has room to do whatever she wants. And yet it just comes across like she’s out of ideas. 

You’ve got to look at a designer like Ulyana Sergeenko:

When I say elevated (but still in the vein of wearable), I mean something like this. To be completely honest, I hadn’t heard of Ulyana Sergeenko until I saw shots of this show on Twitter. But what a perfect mix of kitsch and glamour. The influences are clear: Priscilla Presley, Barbie, Jackie O, Valley of the Dolls, the rich stay-at-home wife of the 60s, the Alessandra Rich/Scream Queens-esque sorority girl, Paris fucking Hilton. It’s exaggerated and it’s tongue in cheek with total grounds to call it trashy-there’s a corset resembling a Benjamin Franklin, ffs-but it’s all done with a wink and a nudge. And in all honesty, I just think it’s beautiful. Can you imagine Frances O’Sullivan (@Beautyspock on IG) in one of these looks? It would be worthy of the Rose McGowan cultural reset meme ten times over.

Everything is feline, from the very literal cat silhouettes and cat headed boa, to the makeup and the hair clips. It reminds me of the last RTW Ralph and Russo show but with even more attention to detail. And look at the STAGE. If this collection were a song, it’d be Disco Tits by Tove Lo. And no, I’m not just saying that because one of the dresses actually does feature a (cat shaped) disco tit. Like these are the clothes I dreamed of putting my Bratz dolls, and for null I’m sure, myself in. Absolute perfection. Plus, I’ve loved Coco Rocha since she was on The Face with Naomi Campbell; she is, after all, to thank for the iconic “check your lipstick before you come for me” line. Girl is really the martyr for all purple lipstick lovers, cut down in her prime by a pissed-off Naomi. 

Onto Alexandre Vauthier, which I also really liked. An interesting yet effortless blend of the old and the new, the masculine and the feminine, if I could sum this collection up in one word, it would be cool. I know, it’s not the most descriptive, but it pretty much sums up how I feel; I’m not AS gassed about it as I am about Ulyana Sergeenko or this season’s Elie Saab (wait for it), but it’s a fresh offering, even if the styles aren’t the most groundbreaking. Stand outs for me are the almost petticoat like, debutante dresses which have Elle Fanning’s name written all over them.

I was hard pressed to find favourites in the Armani Privé collection if I’m honest. I’m not saying it was awful, all I know is that it just isn’t my style. It’s all a bit TOO tailored for my liking, and kinda reminds me of the Zara pantsuits my Spanish teacher used to wear. In other words, I find it to be a bit dowdy. On a positive note, the colours, fabrics, and beading are all stunning, so I see that a lot of craftsmanship clearly went into it; I think my biggest issue is the styling and the shapes (or lack of) on show. I’m very much getting a 20s, flapper vibe and whilst that’s an era that fascinates me and that I appreciate was cutting-edge at the time, I’ve yet to see it be bought into the 21st century in a way that doesn’t look stiff or costume-y. 

Then there’s Azzaro. At the complete opposite end of the scale to Armani, it doesn’t look expensive, which I’m sure isn’t something any designer previewing their collection at haute couture week is striving for. BUT that being said, I’d be much more likely to wear something from this collection than I would from Armani Privé. I mean, I have no shot at ever wearing either but ya get me. 

Whilst I’m sure it or something similar has been done before, the mesh diamanté dress is exquisite and I’m a huge fan of the stacked gem chokers and belts. The whole collection looks like something a London socialite who parties by night but (deep breath in) plays in a shitty band so fancies herself a bit of a rockstar by day would wear (exhale) and as much as that doesn’t sound like a compliment, I mean it as one. I’m talking about the kind of person you’d see smoking outside a bar and think “I wish I was them but I am potato lol”. I mean, as far as faux fur and fedoras are concerned, I’m gonna find it hard to completely slate a collection so this is pretty up my alley.

Chanel was a huge step up from their last RTW collection, imo, and probably on par with their last haute couture offering. It’s that same blend of preppy Chanel detailing (i.e the exaggerated collars, the checks and the lace) and practicality, only even more austere this time round.

It’s funny because when I looked back on original notes on this collection, before I’d even done any research into the context, I saw that one of the things I’d written was “giving me Victorian orphanage madame” as well as “something something Amish” and I wasn’t THAT far off base. The collection is, after all, supposed to be a tribute to the nuns who raised Coco Chanel at the beginning of the century in an Abbey-cum-orphanage. This makes me really happy; I know not everyone’s a fan of Virginie Viard’s nods back to the past and the brand’s origins but as a history nerd, I definitely am. 

There’s also definitely a lot of things that can be translated into high street trends here: the combination of decorative white socks and black shoes is something I’ve seen making a comeback already, tulle is always a winner (I actually don’t mind it as an overlay, I think it’s pretty, sue me) and I have no doubt we’ll be seeing these dramatic collars creeping back onto tops and jumpers throughout the year. It’s been a while since they were a thing anyway and we all know how cyclical fashion is.

Another high note for Elie Saab this haute couture season; if I was an expressive person, I probably would’ve audibly gasped as I looked through this collection. It is SO FUCKING MAGNIFICENT. The colour scheme, the baroque prints, the floral sequinned embroidery, these are Cinderella style ballgowns taken to the next level. Elie Saab really is the definition of opulence and I’m not at all mad about it. Please, somebody put Lana Del Rey in one of these, PLEASE. Remind her how much of a princess she is and get her out of those “soccer mom” looks.

I’m so stuck between this collection and Ulyana Sergeenko as my favourite, and the latter might just pip the other to the post, purely because of the staging and extravagance of the presentation itself. 

Georges Hobeika was predictably phenomenal. Like, I’m not going to lie, I am easily won over by some sequins and tulle, I’ve never claimed any different, and if you can expect that from anyone, it’s this guy (ignore that phrasing making me sound like his proud mother). The colour scheme is very spring appropriate and so is the 3D flower detailing, and if there’s anything good to take from Ascot and English royal weddings, Georges Hobeika knows it’s the hats.

It was another strong year for Givenchy too:

Though Claire Waight Keller is also fond of the extravagant details along the lines of feather and tulle, it’s always done in a more organic way; the details are always more reminiscent of nature, something created by accident, than they are suggestive of painstaking attention to detail, the image of someone hunched over a dress beading for hours on end à la Georges Hobeika or Elie Saab. That is not a bad thing at all; if anything, it makes Givenchy more interesting to study and gives you more to think about. Sometimes a dress takes you a bit longer to fully appreciate, but I’d say that only lends to its memorability. This year’s willowy, billowing, and at times coral-esque structures  remind me of something I can see being worn down an Iris Van Herpen runway, set apart by that delicate Givenchy finesse. And side not: I know this post is to talk about the clothes, not the models, but I got super excited over seeing Sora Choi and Adut Akech walk too. 

Guo Pei is always fun to look at. I mean, this collection is giving me half Matryoshka dolls, half It’s A Small World Christmas edition and I can’t hate on that. 

And then there’s Iris Van Herpen, who knocked it out of the park once again. At this point, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Every outfit looks like something that could be exhibited in the Tate Modern (I know, it’s a basic opinion, but it’s true: TATE MODERN IS THE BEST MUSEUM IN LONDON), or honestly, the Design Museum, just for the genius that must go into the way these dresses move. Honestly, if I can see a goddess wearing anything, it’s more one of these looks than anything in the Dior collection. Like wife of Poseidon or something; I know it’s not very feminist of me to not know the Greek Goddess of the sea’s name but I only know who Poseidon is because I was a Percy Jackson fan back in the day so let me live.

It’s not like the whole under-the-sea theme is particularly new, Zimmerman did something similar last RTW (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong), but these constructions could’ve grown out of the sea bed themselves, which is more of an original take than “oo, blue and white and frothy hemlines!”. Additionally, we’ve got these dresses with the overlapping almost plaited fabric that are-we’re sticking with the goddess references here-fit for Persephone ruling over hell. As for the Grudge-looking dress (fourth down, far left), I could be reaching, but is anyone else seeing that as a nod to the oil spills polluting our oceans? Because that would just add yet another layer to this collection. 

Regardless, it’s all impeccable and I’m in love. Iris Van Herpen as a MET Gala theme. Make it happen.

Anyway, to end on a high note, that’s it for this post! 

Sorry it’s such a sudden cut-off but Jean Paul Gaultier was due to be my second to last to review and due to it being the final show, there’s an onslaught of photos that would not fit with what’s already in this post. Plus, I’d rather start a post with Jacquemus then end it as I feel like there’s a lot of hype around his collections online right now so 1). it’s clickbait (for what, I do not know, as I’m not exactly making any money off this blog, just losing my sanity as it transpires when Tumblr accidentally terminated it earlier today and I had a minor breakdown) and 2). this Steve Buscemi meme is the most accurate representation of only 21 year old me to grace the internet:

I will aim to post part 2/2 in the next week, including JPG, as I just mentioned, the Jacquemus co-ed show, Margiela, Valentino and more, and as always, thank you for anyone who read until the end! You are an angel:-)

Lauren x

[naptoons]

Lockdown - Zabdiel De Jesus

Theme: fluff and angst I guess & google translated spanish.

Warnings: cute shit with a little sad shit

A/N: okay this song is literally the cutest and I couldn’t imagine anyone fitting this concept but zabdiel🥺 I hope you guys like the angst / fluff🖤 I love you all.

You’ve always had a crush on Zabdiel, he was always there to help you through whatever you were comfortable with telling him. He knew you sometimes better than yourself. You hated to admit you like him. Because you knew you’d end up like the other girls. Either becoming his weekdays or his one time. You didn’t want to be either. You didn’t want your heart broken again. The pain was unbearable last time, you fell hard for your ex-partner. Now you were crushing big time. Zabdiel walks over to you placing the covers over your body, laying your head on his thighs while his fingers caress your earlobe, basically helping you fall asleep faster.

“You look so tired nena, whats got you up late at night?” His voice soothing you deeper into your slumber, you brain urged you to comment “you” but your fear wouldn’t let that happen.

“Work stuff” you mumble, Zabdiel settling for a soft hum, he just draws circles on your lower back, as your ears drown out the music and laughter.

Twenty minutes later the sound of cursing and shouts dawn upon you. Later followed by Zabdiel’s voice “shut the fuck up, y/n is trying to sleep” smiling you slowly sit up snuggling yourself in the covers. Zabdiel peeks his head in the room sighing at the sight of you being awake. “I apologize for them, supposedly uno is super intense you have to scream and jump on couches” he jokes with you.

“It’s okay, I guess I slept too long anyways” you smile fixing the hoodie you had on. Time couldn’t be more awkward then it was now.

“Is that my hoodie? Wow I was hoping I didn’t lose it” his smile beams, your face turning hues of red from your nose to the tip of your ears.

“Mhm” was all you could answer, Zabdiel flops down next to you, his arms rested on the back of the couch. “So we’re going out tonight, we’re going to club then the beach, so get dress nena” his fingertips caressing your exposed skin burning you up in size. You felt like the angel in you burned the wings off. Hit too close to the candles flame. Nodding your head Zabdiel helps you up from the couch, opening the door for you to walk out. He’s a gentleman. The type any girl would fall for. His energy is contagious. The butterflies were to powerful. You’re surprised they haven’t exposed you. Richard turns his head your direction smiling.

“Sorry we woke you up precioso” he engulfs you in a hug “it’s okay, I was waking up anyways”

“Yeah Zabdiel was about to beat us up for waking you up” Joel comments very humbling

“This man hella overprotective of you, makes me think it’s something more than just a friendship” Christopher sticks his tongue out in a very nsfw gesture Zabdiel walks over to him but Christopher gets up before he can lap around there. Laughing at how they’re playing a game of cat and mouse, I walk upstairs to my room. They all decided to come over, we were watching a movie in that room and you got tired. Opening your closet door you grab the most simple but elegant. A lace bodysuit tucked into black ripped jeans. And a pair of boots.

After your shower you think about what Christopher said, those words made you feel fuzzy inside. Made you question some things and even jumped to conclusions. But you’ve cane to realization, Zabdiel is just a flirty person by nature, even his fans know that. So makes you any different? Settling for to pieces of hair laying down on each side of your ears and a slick back ponytail. Looking through the mirror you see Zabdiel slender body “maldito bebé te ves bien” [Damn baby you look good], Zabdiel stands behind you kissing your temple. Smiling you lean back on his chest playfully. Zabdiel digs his fingers into your waist adorning you from head to toe.

Zabdiel knew he needed to tell you, he felt just a strongly as you do about him, but he knew his reputation might have messed that chance up for him. “Cmon lets go!” Grabbing your hand he pulls you towards the exit, while you grab your phone and wallet in the other hand. The rest of the boys were sitting on the couch debating about something, but got quiet as we entered the room. “Aren’t y’all obviously talking about us” Zabdiel laughs.

“No se de que estas hablando” [ I do not know what you are talking about] Christopher smugly replies, you only understand half of that sentence, more or less three words. Richard gets up walking towards the front door “erick should drive, since he can’t do shit” Richard pokes fun at him, You put on a pout face seeing how they bullied him. You walk over and hug him around his waist, cheek on his chest.

“Don’t worry, at least we don’t need alcohol to have fun” you back him up

“Yep, you’re right about that” he smiles wrapping his arms around your shoulder. Zabdiel stood in the background feeling a little jealousy brewing in him. Turning on his heel he walks out the door, swiping the keys on your table you follow pursuit.

“Someone has to sit on a lap” Erick shutters

“You’re thé driver, you ain’t got nothing to worry about, I call shotgun!” You yell just as you’re about to hop in the front seat Zabdiel pulls you into him. “You’re sitting on my lap” without any hesitation he pulls you on his lap, while the rest sit down in the seats. Erick looks back at you smiling.

“Watch your head Zabdiel is built like a jungle gym” he enlightens the situation

“Start climbing y/n, see what lies at the top” Christopher chimes in, getting a smack to the back of his head from Zabdiel. You have no choice but to laugh. You feel his hand on your waist pulling you in closer. “You comfortable?” You ask looking back at him

“Yeah I’m good you?” He asks

Smiling you reply “yes”

Arriving at the club, you saw a couple of his friends, including the girl he’s friends with benefits with. She looked beautiful nevertheless, she smelled like coco Chanel, mixed with the breeze of coconut. She was never bitter to you. I guess cause you hid your feelings so well she wasn’t aware you had the biggest crush on him. Zabdiel walks over to her engulfing her in a hug, her fingernails rubbing up and down his back. It was painful to watch so you softly shoulder bumped Erick and he did the same. “I’m hungry” you complain to him

“Yeah same let’s go eat” you and Erick start racing to the dinner part of the bar, Zabdiel watched you in the distance. Smiling at your happiness even if it wasn’t with him. “Zabdiel, Cmon lets get some drinks” Isabella grips onto his arms. Zabdiel nods follow her over to the bartenders. After you finished eating Erick wanted to dance at first you declined feeling socially awkward by the crowd, but Erick promised if it was too much you guys could go back to sitting down and play with the darts in the back of the club. Erick and you started dancing the rhythm of the beat. Y’all bodies grinding and sticking to each other, blending in just like everyone else. It wasn’t so bad you thought to yourself.

“See! Was it so bad?!” Erick shouts over the music, giggling you shake your head in rejection. “No! It isn’t!” Zabdiel was on the couch with Isabella watching how you guys were glue to each other’s body. He wanted that with you. Isabella and Zabdiel are both in a jealous rage. Isabella understood that he didn’t love her, he loved you. She wanted to make your heartbreak so you’d stay away from him. Erick has left to go use the bathroom, Isabella took the opportunity to speak to you. Kissing Zabdiel on the cheek she gets up from his lap making her way over to you.

“Hey y/n how are you?” She asks

“I’m fine, hot is all” you reply

“Yeah it is hot in here, listen sweetie I have something to tell you” her hands lifelessly laid upon your arm “Zabdiel isn’t ready for a relationship, he’s told me that he only sees you as a friend, he couldn’t cross that brother-sister boundary, you know he’s the flirty type don’t take it personal” if you could throw up flowers like a Hanahaki disease. This would be the moment. All this scenarios they played in your head turned from maybes to imaginations.

“Oh, well thanks for tell me I guess” upon hearing your somber tone on the inside she was quiet glad now you would turn away from her “man”

“I’m sorry baby, I know you liked him a lot, but he isn’t worth giving your heart too, he’ll just break it” Isabella pats your back walking back over to Zabdiel” your ears becoming numb to the blaring sound of the music. You watch her sit down on Zabdiel’s lap his hands wrapped around her waist. Smiling as they have a conversation. You told yourself not to fall hard for him. Just in case something like this were to happen. Erick comes out smiling, but that smile soon fades upon seeing the way your lower lip poked out in despair.

“Hey y/n are you okay?” He asks caressing his thumb on your forearm

“Erick.. May I be alone for fifteen minutes? I’ll be at the beach okay?” you force a smile, his eyes downgrading in shades of concern.

“Sure, I’ll come get you in fifteen minutes” Erick smiles, he kisses your temple watching you walkout the door before he turns around heading straight towards Zabdiel.

Zabdiel stops laughing once he sees the look upon Erick face, he knows somethings wrong. “Que Paso ?” [what happened]

“Something happened with y/n, she looked hurt, like she heard something and was disappointed by it” Zabdiel pushes Isabella off of him. She tries to grab his hand but he swings it away.

“What did you say to her?” Zabdiel growls, usually it would cause a bundle of joy in the pit of her stomach, but this sounded like a raging monster.

“Papi I didn’t say anything, maybe she was just thinking about something” she lies, Richard smugly drinks from his cup

“pequeña eres una gran mentirosa” [ little girl you are a big liar” Zabdiel turns in his direction “bro she went and told y/n you’re not in love with her, and that you aren’t ready for love, she also said you’d just hurt her” Zabdiel’s fists balles up wanting to punch a wall or a table but calms down ready to tell her off “when I come back home, I want your shit gone, I’m changing my number as well, get the fuck outta my face” Zabdiel looks back at Erick asking where you’ve gone too.

You were sitting close by the shore not to close to be swept away but close enough the waves crashed against your toes. Wiping the tears from your eyes that blended in well with the salt water in front of you. Why did you have to get your hopes up? You thought to yourself. Hearing the sound of feet against the sand you sniffed and dried your eyes. “It hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet Erick but I’m coming” you get up from your position as you turn around you realize it’s not Erick. But the boy you’ve fallen in love with.

“Oh hey Zabdiel” you couldn’t talk to him right now, you didn’t know how you could talk to him. Things would be awkward. It already was awkward but you always played it off by flirting back. Now you couldn’t do that. Trying to walk past him he grabs your wrist making you stand in front of him, as he towers over you. “What don’t you wanna go back inside? Your girlfriend is probably worried”

Zabdiel rolls his eyes “you know damn well she isn’t my girlfriend”

“Well Isabella is waiting”

“Can’t you see I don’t give a fuck about her? Y/n I’m here cause Erick told me you were out here”

“Your point?” You didn’t mean to be cold,but you wanna let him get close, your heart is already broken. Twice could make you run away from him.

“For fuck sakes y/n I like you” Zabdiel bluntly comments.

Shaking your head you feel the tears roll down “no you don’t Zabdiel, I don’t wanna be just another girl to you, I want more then that I deserve more than that, I don’t want to feel my heart break no more” your voice floating in the window “cause the minute that we touch lockdown, Zabdiel because I am in love with you, I might never want to let you go”

Sniffling you drop your arm still in his grasp “just tell me please, you got someone else, so I can make easy to not go there” you let out one last comment.

“ I can’t lie to you. I don’t have anyone else and I’m not in love with Isabella, it’s always been you, you idiot” not giving you anytime to respond, the sun and the moon met, as his warmth cascade over you, his fingers placed gently on both sides of your cheek, holding the both of y’all together like glue, the waves crashing against the both of your feet’s. A gust of wind flowing in between you two. It was something and more you’ve always dreamt of. Pulling away from your space, a string of saliva becomes a divider between you two. His eyes swimming in love, but also in beauty because of you. “Y/n i meant what I said, I’m deeply and utterly in love with you, fuck more then I should be, it scares the hell out of me, but feeling that jealousy tension today I know that this feels right”

“You were jealous?” You ask curiously

“That’s all you heard?” Zabdiel laughs “yeah, I got very jealous today, what Christopher said is true, I’m very overprotective of you”

“I love you too” honey voice came from your lips, instantly melting Zabdiel, his smile so milky and delicate. Leaning in he crashes his lips upon yours with only one hand on your jawline.

Erick has to drive us home, everyone was drunk besides him and I. Zabdiel was tipsy he could’ve drive but he wanted you to sit on his lap again. Getting out the car the cold wind hit my body. We said out a little longer, playing with the water, kissing, watching the moonlight against the water. It was something that only happened in movies. “Here” Zabdiel wraps you up in his jacket, smiling up at him he kisses your forehead. Something that always gave you butterflies. Even with him bring your boyfriend now. Erick Opens the front door for us, while everyone followed pursuit.

“Finally you told her z! Told you she felt the same” Christopher slurs his words, You giggle in how shy he is by that comment but he just picks you up taking you to his room. Closing the door behind him you scope out the room. He’s done some remodeling there were things you never seen before in his room.

“I added something you’ll love” he speaks

“Hm, what is it?” You reply

“Change into my hoodie and you’ll find out”

“I’ll do that if you take a warm shower with me” innocently you plead

“Oh, already?” Zabdiel jokes with you.

After the shower you and Zabdiel were cuddled up in his bed “so where’s the surprise?” you ask he reaches over on his nightstand grabbing what looked like a remote. He clicked it and stars appeared on the celling. Looking just like the skies you saw at the beach. Astonished by the view your eyes turn into a galaxy. And he loved it.

“How is that for a surprise?” He mumbles against your skin “so now when you come over, we can do just this” he wraps his arm around your shoulder pulling you into his chest.

“What more would you do for me?” You smile

“Whatever you want me to do, you have me on lockdown”

[thatbluegibson]

CH 81

Liz was still in the haze of deep sleep when she felt his fingers graze her cheek and his lips against her forehead. She distinctly heard him tell her that he loved her and then he was altogether gone. Rolling onto her side she tried to fully wake, but the bed was too warm, too soft, too perfect to allow for anything more than blissful unconsciousness and she slipped back into the deep with her nose buried in his pillow.

It felt like hours later when she finally woke with a start, sitting up to quickly get her bearings. She felt dizzy and disoriented after sleeping so deeply for so long and she scrambled out of the bed before it convinced her to stay, pulling the flat sheet off and wrapping it around herself. The clock on the fireplace mantle read 8:30 am and Liz frowned, thinking it had to be wrong. It had to be at least noon, she had slept for so long but her phone on the nightstand concurred and she wondered what time Dave had actually left that morning.

Getting her first good look at the bedroom, Liz wrapped the sheet around herself a bit tighter. It had been dark by the time they had finally gotten to the hotel in Paris and she had been so exhausted from running off of such little sleep that she and Dave had gone straight to bed. The room was painted in several shades of white with ebony wood and silver accents and it felt as of Coco Chanel had just stepped out for a smoke on the terrace. The bed even had a cream silk canopy that stretched across the ceiling to the elaborate crystal and silver chandelier that hung in the middle of the bedroom and Liz actually laughed when she leaned into the attached white marble bathroom. It was far and away the nicest place she had ever been in, much less wandered around wearing only a luxury linen flat sheet.

Overwhelmed, she stumbled across the dark room to pull back the curtains and swore under her breath. Paris was laid out before her, along with a decent sized rooftop terrace that she stepped out onto. The sheet blew against her in the soft breeze as she stared at the Eiffel Tower in the distance and the Seine beside it.

"I thought you made a break for it."

She turned at Dave's voice and managed a smile. "Yeah, I was about to make a rope out of bedsheets so I could escape this torture chamber you've locked me in."

He handed her a cup of coffee and sat in one of the plush chairs in the sunshine. "Torture chamber? I've never really tried the S&M thing, but I'll give it a go if you're into it," he grinned, his eyes fixed on the outline of her body in the thin sheet.

Liz laughed and ignored the other sumptuous chairs around him, opting to sit in his lap instead. "I'm not that bored with you yet."

"... Yet," he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"How's a girl gonna get bored when you put her up in a fucking palace like this?" she threw her hand towards the open bedroom door as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Honestly, Dave. That room is ridiculous."

"I wasn't going to put you up in a fucking Motel 6 for your birthday, Elizabeth," he laughed.

"We could have put little party hats on all the cockroaches though," she whined, then giggled when Dave laughed harder. "And who the hell told you it was my birthday?"

"You have a Wikipedia page, you nerd," he teased and dragged his fingers across her cheek when she blushed. "Don't make any plans today, okay?"

Her smile returned and she looked out over Paris. "But I thought we could storm the Bastille, guillotine some politicians, abolish the absolute monarchy... you know, do as the French do."

"You're pretty focused, Liz. I bet you could get all that in while I'm at soundcheck."

She crossed her arms and shifted so her back was against his chest. "So much for my date night idea," she pouted.

He kissed her shoulder in response and her eyes followed his hand as it began to creep under the seam of the sheet towards her bare skin but frowned when he paused and played with the fabric instead.

"You don't happen to have that picture of you and Lemmy, do you? From when you were a kid?" he asked suddenly.

"Um...," her brain lurched from one thought to the next like someone learning a stick shift for the first time. "Yeah. Hang on." She reluctantly left his lap for the bedroom, grabbing her phone off the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed to find the photo.

It took her a while to find it in the depths of her phone, but the moment she had it on the screen he was kicking off his shoes and pulling her into the bed next to him. She studied his face, sensing something heavy was on his mind before handing him the phone.

He stared at it for a beat, showing no emotion until he spoke. "He had asked me to play this fucking festival with him for years," he said quietly. "But we were always too busy or the band was fighting or fucking whatever and now..." Liz felt her heart break when tears flooded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. "Every year I think it isn't going to hurt and every fucking year it does."

"Oh, honey," she whispered and crawled into his lap so she could hold him.

His knees came up behind her, propelling her into his chest and he held her so tightly that she couldn't properly fill her lungs. She laid her head on his shoulder and waited him out, telling herself that he needed this more than she needed air.

A few minutes passed before he broke their silence. "That's the first time you've ever called me anything but my name," he whispered.

"You want me to give you a nickname?" she asked, smiling into his shoulder.

"Yes. Make it French, though."

Liz smiled and pulled away to lean against his bent knees, his tear-stained face breaking her heart all over again. "Okay, what about... mon petit chou?"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Literal translation is 'my little cabbage'," she giggled.

"Nope," he shook his head but finally cracked a smile. "Next."

"Mon cœur."

Another head shake, but with a wider smile.

"Mon chéri?"

"Closer..."

She took him literally and leaned back into his chest, kissing him before deciding on her final nickname, "Mon amour."

"That one. I want that one."

"Je t'aime mon amour," she said quietly against his lips, then laughed when he threw her down onto the bed beside him.  

*

"You're sure it's okay?" Liz asked, searching for any sign that he would need her at the festival, but he revealed none.

"I'll be fine, baby. I promise," he insisted and pulled her into one last hug. They were alone in a corner of the extravagant hotel lobby while the rest of the band and crew waited outside by the vans. "Go hang out with Ally, Taylor can console me if I get all weepy again."

Liz grinned and walked with him towards the doors. "That's my job, though."

"Think of it as a day off from your emotional wreck of a boyfriend then."

"Maybe I like when you're a wreck," she teased gently, careful not to make fun of him lest he never show his vulnerable side again. And she did like that he was comfortable enough with her to break down and let her build him back up, something Kyle had never been strong enough to do.

"Yeah, so I've learned," he laughed, adjusting the collar on his shirt to cover the mark she had left on his neck earlier.

Out on the sidewalk, Ally bounced on her toes while waiting excitedly for Liz's final decision. Taylor rolled his eyes and tried to kiss her goodbye while everyone else filed into the vans.

"I'm fucking pissed!" Pat yelled at Gus, throwing his hands up in the air. "They get to go to Gucci and I'm stuck with you assholes!"

Liz laughed at his semi-restrained rage when Dave turned her back to him and bent to kiss her. "Go. Have fun."

*

Ally, Josie, and Liz had wandered through most of the shops on the same avenue as their hotel and were juggling their various shopping bags when Josie dropped hers in frustration.

"Give me your bags," she said, motioning for Ally and Liz to hand them over. "I'll take them back to our rooms and we can hit the other side of the street."

Liz gratefully peeled the luxury bags off her arm and handed them to her friend. "We'll wait here," she said, then turned to see that Ally was already halfway down the block.

"Ally?" Liz strolled towards her, gently placing her hand on her shoulder when she saw the tears in her eyes. What the fuck was with these people and Paris? "Ally, what's wrong?"

"It's...," she waved her hand at the store window, then threw herself at Liz and buried her face in her shoulder as she sobbed.

Liz steadied herself on the pavement and looked over at the elaborate display of baby clothes, strollers, cribs and car seats that adorned the shop window. Oh shit, she thought, Dave hasn't told them yet. "Let's go in," she said softly.

Ally shook her head and stepped away, dashing her tears off her cheeks so she wouldn't ruin her makeup. "No, I can't."

"Yes, you can," Liz said slowly. The lights turned on in the shop, illuminating the sidewalk and making Ally look up again. "Come on," Liz tugged on her hand. "Let's go pick something out."

"For who though?" Ally asked miserably. "You? Are you...?"

Liz shrugged and started towards the shop, then casually called over her shoulder. "Not yet. Whenever you and Taylor are ready."

She made it just over the threshold before Ally's scream pierced the air and she tackled Liz onto the wooden floor of the shop, covering her face with kisses. Liz distinctly heard the clerk say 'lesbiennes' before approaching them.

"Can I help?" she asked in broken English.

"Salut!" Liz said through her laughter. "Nous allons avoir un bébé..."