#LOOK AT THE BEAUTIFUL SKIRT I THRIFTED THE OTHER DAY!!!!!!!

[littlemoriflower]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Yours, truly.

[notakugelblitz]

DELORES PART 1 • Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

something sweet to soothe your anger dearest brellies 🥰 takes place during season 4 episode 1, no warning all safe. enjoy !

Y/N had worked with Five at the Commission. She was with him on the day of JFK's assassination, and when he mentioned the possibility of escaping the company, she thought, why not? The Handler still hadn't given her the promotion she'd been promised 15 years ago, and the health insurance was worthless by then ...

Y/N followed Five through three apocalypses, becoming a teenager again. At least she no longer had the beginnings of arthritis, which she was more grateful for than her colleague. The Hargreeves quickly took Y/N under their wing, appreciating her a lot, especially since she had the gift of shutting Five up.

Y/N and Five became very good friends. Once the umbrella Academy lost their powers in this new timeline, Y/N chose to open a bookstore, while Five became a CIA agent. They met from time to time, enjoying each other's company over a black coffee on a terrace. In six years, nothing ambiguous had happened between them. Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted it to or not—it was a strange feeling. But now, with her new life started, she had time. If Five was interested, he would make a move; if not, so be it. But this was the calm before the storm...

Five entered the secret meeting set in an apartment with a classy, dimly lit atmosphere. The place was spacious, hosting about thirty people. Five smoothed his mustache, grabbed a glass of champagne from the buffet, and scanned the room. Just as he thought he recognized Lila, another young woman caught his attention. She was leaning against the balcony, her face hidden as she stood with her back to him. She had long, straight auburn hair, styled with a yellow beret. She was wearing a white shirt with black polka dots, neatly tucked into her pencil skirt.

Five felt a drop of sweat trickle down his temple and took a deep breath before joining her. He also leaned on the balcony, just like she did, barely daring to look at her.

"Beautiful night, isn’t it?" Y/N murmured, a simple smile on her lips.

She didn’t meet his gaze either, which slightly irritated Five. He finally turned his head and recognized Y/N.

"What the hell are you doing ..."

The words escaped his mouth when he noticed the name on her nametag : Delores. Five almost choked on his champagne.

"Yeah, the champagne is disgusting, I agree. But the hors d'oeuvres are delicious though. You should try them!" "What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re part of this ridiculous support group ..."

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head.

"Oh no, no ... I came with "Nancy" so Diego wouldn’t ask too many questions. But this wig is seriously itching. It's awful." Y/N explained, amused, scratching her scalp.

She then turned her attention to Five and looked at his nametag.

"Jerome? That doesn’t suit you very well. I wonder where you got that name..." "It wasn’t my choice. And where did you get yours?" he retorted, frowning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden cold and somewhat aggressive tone.

"I like that name." Y/N simply said. "And that shirt—do you like it too? It’s hideous." "I found it in a thrift shop—it seemed nice... hey! What’s gotten into you?" Y/N finally exclaimed. "Bullshit." "Five what the hell!"

Y/N seemed sincere. She had no idea what her cover name meant to him. After all these years, he had never told her about Delores. Instead of apologizing, he downed his glass of champagne.

"So, those hors d'oeuvres?" Five asked.

Y/N laughed lightly, understanding it was his awkward way of apologizing. Just as she was about to praise the treats, Jean and Gene appeared, announcing the start of the meeting.

What followed was a very eventful evening. The Umbrella Effect, interacting with Jean and Gene, dining with Lila and Five, Viktor's kidnapping... it felt like the old days! And throughout it all, Five kept giving Y/N odd looks. Why had fate embedded the love of his life so clearly in his friend and colleague? Five didn’t believe in coincidences; he never had.

Y/N had noticed those supposedly discreet glances, which intrigued her a lot. Especially since she could feel her cheeks flush like a 16-year-old girl.

Despite everything, the Hargreeves ended their evening at an Asian restaurant to debrief. Having retrieved the Marigold thanks to Sy, most of them decided not to take it. This surprised Y/N a lot. Powers... that was the dream, wasn’t it?

While Ben was in the bathroom, Y/N leaned toward Five.

"Imagine what you could do for the CIA with your teleportation..." she whispered. "Shut up, Y/N." Five murmured. "No, but seriously! I don’t know what I’d give to be special like you guys were! If it were up to me, I’d drink that jar dry!"

Five chuckled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"If you think this is one of those stupid Marvel movies, think again. Having powers comes with great responsibilities, sure—the responsibility to control them and not cause an apocalypse." "Killjoy..." Y/N sighed. "And for your information..." Five hesitated before continuing in a lower voice, leaning a bit closer to her. "You don’t need that to be... special."

Coming from his mouth, it sounded weird. Reaching her ears, it sounded weird. Y/N sat up straight and silently thanked some higher force when Ben arrived with a tray of eight shots. While everyone found an excuse to leave, Ben convinced them to drink. "For old time's sake," he said.

Everyone gave in, and when Y/N realized she didn’t have a glass, she felt disheartened.

"Can’t I celebrate our reunion?" she asked. "You're not part of the family." Ben snapped. "Wow, Ben, that’s rude!" Luther exclaimed. "Y/N is more family than you ever were." Five groaned, pointing a threatening finger at him. "No, it's fine, let it go, Five." Y/N sighed, though Five’s words had touched her.

She stepped aside, letting them toast. Just as everyone raised their glasses to their lips, Klaus nudged Y/N and handed her his glass.

"OnJanuary 15th, it'll be 3 years that I am sober. Tonight’s not the night I’ll mess that up, and certainly not for old time's sake." Klaus whispered. "I can’t accept that ..." Y/N politely refused. "Oh, come on, down it or I’ll tell everyone you slept with Five at Luther’s wedding."

Y/N gasped, grabbed the glass, drank it down in record time, and handed it back to Klaus. No one seemed to notice the trick, and that was just as well.

Y/N still had that awful taste in her mouth. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that glass. After all, Klaus was lying. Wasn’t he? It was true she had a total blackout that night, but... her and Five? No... right?

Once outside, everyone said their goodbyes. As Y/N tried to figure out where Klaus had gone so she could question him, a car pulled up next to her. The passenger window rolled down, and she bent down to see the driver. It was Five.

"I’ll give you a ride." "No, it’s okay, I’m not far..." "That wasn’t a question," Five said, leaning over to open the passenger door.

Y/N sighed but couldn’t help smiling. She got in, buckled up, and Five started the car.

"Be honest with me, Y/N." he said seriously, focusing on the road. "Mmh?" "Why Delores? And why that damn polka dot shirt?"

Y/N widened her eyes.

"You're still hung up on that!" she exclaimed. "I’ve changed since then..." "Stop it right now, Y/N. This isn’t funny," he growled. "Look, Five, I don’t understand! You’re completely crazy!" "Why Delores?" "I don’t know, okay?" she yelled back. "I don’t know."

She repeated the sentence silently to herself.

"The name just came to me, and the shirt was the cheapest... I swear, Five, I’ve never been more honest with you..."

Five finally looked at her and realized she was telling the truth. When they arrived at the bookstore, he parked on the side of the road.

"I’m sorry, Y/N... it’s just that... I knew a Delores a long time ago, and... she looked just like you."

Y/N, surprised, met his gaze and tilted her head to the side.

"I never thought the famous Five Hargreeves had a romance," she breathed.

Five nodded , locking eyes with her sparkling ones. He had always loved that color, though he would never admit it. He looked away, eyes fixed on the steering-wheel. Fortunately Y/N didn't know Delores was a mannequin. Five kept silent, thinking about this damn coincidence and its probable meaning.

Y/N didn’t know what to say so she got out of the car, feeling unsettled. As she headed towards the bookstore, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and walked back to the car, leaning against the window on Five’s side.

“Be honest with me, Five.” she said seriously.

Five chuckled softly, amused by this ongoing joke, and nodded, signaling her to continue.

“What happened at Luther’s wedding?” she asked suddenly.

Five frowned. Why was she asking about that now?

“They got married,” he said simply. “Haha, very funny. No, seriously, between us... did something happen?”

Five discreetly swallowed and started the car.

“You should go home, it’s getting late.”

Y/N groaned and walked around the front of the car again so that he couldn't leave, suddenly opening the passenger door and sitting down.

“What are you doing…?” “You agreed to be honest with me. And you’re not. So I won’t move until…” “Fine.” "Oh, that was quick."

Five immediately started driving and continued in silence.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” “No.” “So, is this a kidnapping?” “Call it whatever you want. You learned how to jump out of a moving car at the Commission, so if your ass is still in that seat, it means you don’t really want to leave.”

Point for him. The silence was fine at the beginning, but it grew heavier and heavier minutes after minutes. Y/N was relieved when she recognized the streets as they were arriving at the parking lot of Five's apartment. He turned off the car and slumped further into his seat. Y/N could tell he was hiding something.

“So. Did we sleep together that night?” she asked bluntly.

Five’s eyes widened.

“What! Who told you that nonsense?” he exclaimed with an amused tone. “Klaus… he…” “You know Klaus always exaggerates, Y/N…”

Y/N lowered her eyes, embarrassed for having believed it so easily. Five noticed her distress and sighed. He rummaged through an inner pocket of his jacket, hesitating before pulling out a Polaroid photo. He handed it to Y/N nonchalantly. She looked at him, then at the photo, which she took with apprehension. It was taken at Luther’s wedding. Y/N and Five were on stage. A microphone stand separated them, only a few centimeters from each other's face. They looked completely drunk, which explained why they were singing so close and why Y/N had no memory of it.

“Just imagine eyes like moon rise, a voice like music, lips like wine.” Five muttered, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/N looked up at him. Those were the lyrics to a love song by Frank Sinatra, yet it sounded oddly different coming from his mouth.

“Please, tell me…” she whispered.

Five sighed, knowing full well he had reached a point of no return.

“We overdid it on the alcohol that night. And with the apocalypse looming... it makes you do things you wouldn’t normally be capable of.”

He paused, but Y/N smiled, encouraging him to continue.

“You seemed different that night. You had no filter. You never had one when it came to annoying me, but for saying nice things, well... and you were really beautiful. And without thinking, I grabbed that mic and sang that stupid Sinatra song. And you looked at me with those eyes. They sparkled like… like the Kugelblitz. Almost more. And you joined me, and we made quite the duo, I must say. I can't fucking remember the name of the song as we were only babbling incomprehensible lyrics.”

Y/N was speechless.

“So…” “No sex. Pure fluff, even though it’s a disgusting word to say.”

Y/N chuckled.

“And you kissed me,” Five finally said, emotionless.

Everything seemed so unreal, yet he looked sincere.

“Why didn’t you tell me for six years?” she asked, shocked. “I… I chickened out. You didn’t remember, so it gave you the chance to start fresh.”

Suddenly, Y/N slapped him across the face, the sound of the slap echoing through Dallas. Five didn't blink, feeling like it was deserved somehow.

“You’re such an idiot.” “I know.”

They remained silent for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. If any member of the Umbrella Academy had the power to read minds, they would’ve run away, given the turmoil that stirred within them.

Y/N thought back to all those moments spent with Five, and of course, they had a different flavor than those shared with an actual colleague. Despite their constant teasing, Five had always been there for Y/N, and vice versa. They understood each other, given their age and experience. Everything suddenly became clear.

And then, in perfect synchronization, they kissed passionately, Y/N placing her hands on Five’s cheeks while he firmly gripped her waist. It was a fiery kiss, making up for all the lost time due to misplaced pride. Out of breath, Y/N pulled back slightly to look at him, a smirk on her lips.

“What? Don’t make me regret what just happened…” Five chuckled. “Firsy things first, secretly keeping a picture of me is weird. Secondly, the song by Sinatra ... It is named Dolores. Just saying…” Y/N laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear that had fallen over his bright eyes.

"Shut it." he groaned, pecking your lips to make you silent. But then , he approaches his lips to your ear, whispering.

“It seems that no matter the timeline, I’m destined to have a Delores getting in my way.”

Y/N burst out laughing, and Five couldn’t help but smile sincerely. It felt good to come out of his shell, especially for Y/N. Five invited Y/N to spend the night at his place. This sudden happiness seemed surreal, yet it was very real. The idea of a normal life together seemed so pleasant. If only they knew ...

here it is, i really hope you liked it ! sorry if you spotted some mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

would you be interested in a part 2 now that Y/N swallowed up a shot of marigold ? just sayin’ … 😏

[lemoncrushh]

Scars

Summary: You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

Warnings: body image issues (scars), smut - 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2920

A/N: This was a special request from an old mutual back in 2016 (I still think of you often hon, wherever you are). Reader fic with a very sweet and caring Harry.

It was date number five...but who's counting?

You and Harry had spent the entire afternoon together, going to lunch at your favorite cafe and then shopping. You'd been a bit surprised when he'd suggested it, but it had turned out to be one of the most pleasant days you'd ever had. You'd browsed antique shops, thrift shops and a vintage record store, rounding out the shopping at a small boutique that you'd passed earlier, finally stopping to give a dress in the window a second look.

"Go try it on," Harry suggested, nudging your arm.

"What?" you blinked, looking up at him. He gave you an encouraging smile.

"We've passed this store three times. You obviously like that dress. Go try it on."

You bit your lip and gave a shrugged. "It's okay. It's late. I should probably be heading home."

"Y/N," said Harry, "Go. It'll look beautiful on you."

With a hesitant grin, you nodded. Harry opened the door for you and you stepped inside the boutique, immediately scanning the room for the dress on display.

"May I help you?" a kindly looking woman asked.

"I-" you opened your mouth, but it was Harry that answered.

"She wants that dress in the window."

The woman smiled at both of you. "Ah yes, right this way."

You followed her to a round rack near the wall where she asked you your size. Pulling one of the dresses out, she handed it to you.

"Fitting room is in the back," she sang. "My name's Delores if you need anything."

"Thank you," you replied.

Harry walked with you to the back of the store, finding a floral upholstered chair to sit in while you went in the dressing room.

Trying on clothes was not your favorite thing to do. In fact, you loathed it most of the time. But when Harry had given you his million-dollar smile, insisting that you try the dress on, that you'd look beautiful it nonetheless, it had made you feel a little less self-conscious. You only hoped the dress covered your scars.

Standing in front of the mirror, after removing your bra, you ran your finger over your most prominent scar. The type of dress this was, you would definitely have to go braless. Letting out a deep breath, you pulled the dress over your head. As soon as the fabric fell over your hips, you knew. It fit you perfectly. Twisting in it in front of the mirror, making the skirt twirl, you felt pretty. The thin straps didn't sag, the bust of the dress hugged you the way you'd hoped it would. And no scars could be seen. With a silent giggle, you took the dress off, placing it back on the hanger.

Once you were dressed in your own clothes, you emerged from the fitting room. Harry looked up from his phone, his expression disappointed.

"Did it not fit?" he inquired.

"No, it did," you grinned. "I'm getting it."

"Oh. But I didn't get to see."

You chuckled, heading toward the register. "Sorry."

Delores came around the counter, beaming. "Did that work out for you, doll?"

"Yes," you said as she rang you up.

"Let me get that," Harry offered, attempting to produce his wallet.

You turned to glare at him. "No thanks."

"Please?"

You raised a brow. "It's fine. I got it."

Once you'd paid for your dress, Harry held the door open for you again, following you out to the sidewalk. When you reached Harry's car and he unlocked it, you nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand.

"Since it's getting late, what do you say to dinner?"

You blushed, looking down at the ground. "We already spent all day together."

Harry's face fell. "Are you saying you're tired of me?"

You shook your head and laughed. "Far from it. I just didn't want you to get tired of me."

Harry stepped closer, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

"That's not gonna happen," he muttered.

Your skin tingled from his gentle gesture and his deep voice.

"So, dinner?" he asked again. "You could wear your new dress. I'd love to see you in it."

You sucked in your lips, ready to burst out with an ecstatic yes, but not wanting to seem to eager.

"Okay," you finally whispered.

Harry drove you back to your place so you could change. He waited on the sofa while you went to the bedroom to put on your dress. You twirled in front of the full-length mirror, giggling at yourself before opening the door. When you stepped into the living room, Harry gazed up at you, his mouth slowly stretching into a smile.

"You look amazing," he said sincerely, standing up to meet you. His eyes travelled down your body and back up again, sending even more tingles throughout your skin. "So pretty."

Harry put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips.

"Thank you," you grinned, your hands on his chest. "So where are we going for dinner?"

Harry sighed, his fingers gripping you tighter. "'m gonna have a hard time thinking about food."

You laughed out loud, your wrists winding around his neck. "Is it really that effective?"

Nodding, his fingers slid up your back. Then he rested his forehead against yours. "You have no idea," he added with a groan.

You bit your lip, your eyes even with his, though he was focused on something else.

"Don't do that, love," he pouted.

"What?"

Harry lifted his head from yours then, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip.

"Biting this lip," he explained. "Drives me crazy when you do that."

You raised your eyebrows. "Seems I'm learning a lot of new things about you today."

Harry gave a sexy smirk, one of his hands running up your arm to your shoulder. "What else you wanna know?"

The color rose to your cheeks and you shook your head. "Never mind. Let's go eat."

Dinner was wonderful. You sat in a round corner booth in a dimly lit, intimate restaurant. After appetizers and a glass of wine, Harry became very flirty, leaning in to place soft kisses on your neck and shoulder. His hand found your knee under the table, staying there for almost the rest of the next course, occasionally giving it a little squeeze. You smiled at him, covering his hand with yours. The way he looked at you made you warm all over, and you knew it wasn't just the wine.

By the time you'd finished eating, to say you were ready to go back to your place would be an understatement. Sometime during dessert, Harry's hand had begun traveling up your thigh, pushing your dress up just slightly. You were feeling a bit light-headed, knowing where this was surely going to lead.

You were nervous. So many questions had begun running through your mind. Was five dates too soon? What exactly was too soon? You'd already kissed him several times, the end of date four already coming close to a make-out session. You knew you wanted to sleep with him. He was sweet, fun to be with and extremely sexy. The anticipation was already getting to you. So, what were you nervous about?

Your scars.

No man had seen you naked since your surgery. You were scared about what he would think - or do - when he saw them.

"Ready to go?" you heard Harry ask, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Sure," you blinked.

The car ride home was almost unbearable. Your insides trembled with desire, but your head was still running a mile a minute with worry and doubt. As you walked to your door, Harry took your hand, threading his fingers through yours before bring it to his mouth to kiss it. Then he stood behind you, his arms around your waist as you inserted the key. You bit your lip as you struggled to get the door unlocked.

"Stop it," Harry growled, his chin landing on your shoulder.

"Stop what? I'm having trouble with the key."

"That lip."

"Oh," you stifled a giggle, finally pushing the door free.

Harry released a breath, letting go of you long enough to enter the apartment. He stood to the side as you shut the door, watching you almost intently. Licking your lips, you tossed you bag on the sofa before turning to face him. Within two strides he'd crossed the room, taking your face in his hands. His mouth captured yours in an intoxicating kiss, soft and gentle at first before dragging his tongue across your bottom lip. You sighed, melting into him.

"I suspect this is when I usually leave," he conveyed, his eyelids heavy.

You nodded, your hands resting on his arms. "Yeah."

"But I don't really want to," he added.

You swallowed hard. "I don't want you to either."

His jaw tightening, Harry slid his hands down your shoulders, his fingers looping around the straps of your dress. You felt yourself tense up involuntarily and it wasn't lost on Harry.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Do you wanna go to the bedroom?"

You nodded silently. Harry took your hands, gesturing toward the bedroom with his head.

"Lead the way."

You bit your lip again, this time causing Harry to grit his teeth. "And stop fucking doing that."

You chuckled and pulled his hand, guiding him to the bedroom. As soon as you closed the door, he pushed you against it, his mouth covering yours. You made a sound, but not in protest. His body pressed against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His kisses were hungry, his tongue dipping in your mouth repeatedly. Your entire body was on fire, and you knew you were only moments away from being disrobed.

Harry's hands roamed up your sides, cupping your breasts in your dress. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the firmness of your nipples as he ran his thumbs across them. You released a moan against his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair.

"I want you, baby," he confirmed when he let go of your mouth, his eyes burning into yours.

You slowly lowered your arms from around his neck, sliding your hands down his chest. Harry closed his eyes softly as you did so, the touch apparently something he liked. His eyelids fluttering open, his lips parted slightly, he grabbed hold of your dress straps again. When you shuttered this time, Harry titled his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Um..." you stumbled. "It's...it's not...you."

Harry raised his eyebrows, stepping back. "We don't have to do this," he said.

You shook your head. "No, I want to."

Harry stared at you, his gaze silently willing you to speak.

"I...um...had surgery a couple years ago. I still have some...scars. And...I guess I'm a little self-conscious about them," you finally explained. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of you.

"Oh, love, it's alright," Harry cooed, stepping closer to you again. "Where are they?"

You dropped your head, gesturing to your chest. "Here."

Harry lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said tenderly, "If you don't want me to see them, I'll understand. But just know that I don't mind. You're beautiful. Your body is beautiful."

You felt yourself relax a bit at his words. You sighed before biting your lip, which you released immediately. Harry shook his head.

"You're gonna drive me fucking crazy, baby," he muttered.

"Sorry," you grinned.

"C'mere," he beckoned as he backed into the bed behind him.

He sat down, pulling you to stand between his legs. Running his hands up and down your hips, he lightly kissed your stomach.

"Tell me how I can make you comfortable," he requested.

"What?" you asked in surprise, your hands on his shoulders.

"I want to make you feel good, baby," said Harry. "But first I need you to trust me. So tell me what to do. Would you like the light off?"

You considered his question for a moment. Having the light off would make it easier. He wouldn't see your scars. But then you wouldn't see him either.

"Maybe....um...maybe just the lamp?" you pointed to the small lamp on the bedside table.

Harry turned his head to look at it. "Okay."

You walked over to the table, switching the lamp on before turning off the overhead light. It gave the room a warm glow.

"That's nice," Harry remarked. "What else?"

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you wanna lie down?"

"Okay."

You kicked off your shoes before crawling on the bed, your head falling back on the soft pillow. You heard the sound of Harry's boots hitting the floor as he climbed up next to you, propped up on his elbow. His hand glided across your abdomen, his face inching closer to yours until he kissed you.

As his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, he shifted on the bed, his leg between yours. You could feel his erection pressing against you while his mouth met your shoulder, just next to your strap, though he didn't move it.

Suddenly his hand on your stomach moved down, finding the hem of your dress. You gasped when his fingers met your panties, pushing them to the side. The pads of his fingers rotated on your clit, causing your breaths to quicken while his mouth still assaulted your neck and shoulders. When his lips came in contact with your dress strap again, Harry lifted his head and looped his other hand through the strap.

"Do you trust me?" he inquired.

Your eyelids were heavy from desire, the sensation of his fingers on your wetness making you see stars.

"Yes," you nodded.

Harry grinned, gently pulling the strap down off your shoulder, releasing your arm through it. He then continued to kiss your shoulder, moving down slowly to your chest. You closed your eyes when you knew he had to be reaching a scar. But he said nothing. He only kissed.

Quicker than you were ready to admit, he stopped his other hand, hovering over you to lower your other strap. His eyes were focused on yours then, with such intensity it almost made you want to cry. After he pulled your arm free from that strap, he finally lowered his head again, kissing your bare skin. Before you knew it, he'd grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it down further until removing it completely. Lying in only your underwear, you gazed up at him, trying to read his expression.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

You blinked rapidly, biting your lip once more.

"Gimme that," Harry demanded, pulling your lip free with his thumb. Then he captured it between his lips, sucking gently. You let out a mewl, grasping at his shirt.

"Mmm...baby..." he breathed. "Do you still trust me?"

"Yes," you said with more affirmation than before as you watched him slide your panties down your hips.

"Do you want me?"

"God, yes."

Harry sat up, reaching behind himself to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head before quickly returning to your mouth. You ran your hands down his back, bucking your hips against his. He groaned, the restraint of his jeans unacceptable.

Standing from the bed, he produced a condom from his wallet before removing the jeans quickly, as well as his boxers. You watched as he rolled the condom on, then positioned himself over you. His eyes never left yours as you felt the sting of him entering you. You grabbed his waist to guide him inside, where you wanted him the most. You saw his eyelids flutter as he pulled out almost fully before pushing in again.

"Baby..." he cried when he began to thrust faster.

You opened your legs wider for him, making him lift your thigh to get a better angle. The feeling was incredible, and though you didn't want it to end soon, you knew at this rate it would.

Harry cursed as he pumped into you, reaching deep inside. You cried out his name, climbing closer to your peak. Finally when he managed to tap your most sensitive spot again and again, your body shook, erupting with orgasm. Harry soon followed, his body stilling over yours as he came, a low groan rising from his throat.

"Jesus," he exhaled, collapsing on top of you.

You held him for a few minutes, your hands tickling his back. When he finally lifted his head, he planted a kiss on your mouth, and once again traveling down your neck and shoulders. When he reached your chest, he stopped, studying your scars for a few seconds. Ever so gingerly, Harry lifted a finger, tracing them with care. Then he lowered his mouth again, repeating the tracing with kisses.

You thought you heard him mumble something before he looked at you, but you couldn't make it out.

"What?" you asked, curious.

"I said you're wonderful, and beautiful, and you need to know that. So I'm going to make it my mission to make sure you always do."

With a slight smile, you pulled him to you, kissing his lips with fervor. Because you also wanted to make it your mission that he always knew you appreciated him.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[tvgals]

⛤ MHA BOYS AND THEIR EARTHY GF !

ft.- kirishima, bakugo, deku, rody (i will never get over him), and todoroki <3

cw- black reader! fem bodied! reader - enjoy <3

⛤ KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

ejirou looks at you in awe. how can someone look so…beautiful? you can only giggle. “baby, whatcha lookin’ at?” you ask, smiling. “just the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen..” he coos, watching you put in your bamboo hoop earrings, your bracelets clacking with each movement..

“you’re so mushy, eiji’.” you chuckle, standing up from your desk to look for a slate green headscarf you’d previously thrown somewhere. “how can i not be when i have the most perfect girl in the world?” he gushes, a toothy grin in his face, hand on his cheek, pushing the top of it to his eyes. you grab your scarf off of the floor and you take the xl hairtie from around your wrist and pull your soft locs into a ponytail, then you wrap the scarf around, the knot in the front. “you’re like magic. all the stuff you’re able to do is incredible..”

⛤ KATSUKI BAKUGO

“orange. wear orange today please.” katsuki mutters from your bed. you’re currently walking all over the room, your incense in hand. “why orange kats?” you inquire, stubbing out in incense into your brown ashtray. “because..ya’ look good in orange.”

“maybe i will. might even wear the stack of necklaces you bought me the other day.” you reply, stacking your rings atop of one another before plopping in the bed next to katsuki. “don’t mess up y’ makeup…looks really nice today.” the blonde says, a sparkling being oh so faint in his pretty crimson eyes. “thank you babe.” you grin — leaning over to kiss his cheek.

⛤ RODY SOUL

“hi princess, whatcha doin?” rody drawls, walking into your poster filled room. “my makeup. what’s up?” you look up at him, big doe eyes filled with love.

“went to the thrift today. i know how you said it was better than shopping online and stuff. so i went there.” he says, holding out a bag that’s almost half the size of him.. “really? you didn’t have to get all of this! how much did it cost?” you almost immediately drop your lip liner when you see the bag filled with maxi skirts and tote bags and crop tops. “just $48 and some change. can’t wait for you to try it on sweets.”

⛤ IZUKU MIDORYIA

“love? where’re you?” your emerald haired boyfriend shouts from the living room. for a second, he sits in silence, the faint noise of afro beats hitting his ears. you must be reading. izuku kicks his shoes off and walks into you two’s shared bedroom to see you — stomach on the bed with your legs up, mumbling under your breath. “hey.” izuku greets, closing the door behind him.

“oh, hey baby! my bad i couldn’t hear you.” you giggle, pulling izuku onto the bed with you. “you look really pretty from this angle..” izuku admires.

⛤ SHOTO TOODOROKI

“honey, did you see what i posted?” todoroki questions, you know he doesn’t post often, only liking videos and pictures you post and sometimes going live. “what was it baby?” you ask, opening your phone and pressing the instagram icon. you can see the rainbow ring around todorokies profile picture consisting of you and him, you press it and can see the video he posted.

“guys, look at how pretty my girlfriend is. she’s so good at doing makeup.” todoroki admires, practically shoving the phone in your face. “her room is very nice. she says all the crystals and chakras and stuff help us or whatever.”

you smile, hugging todoroki. “i love you sho’” “love you more.”

[candyshin00]

Deceptive Beginnings - Ch. 1 Monday

A/N - I am really excited posting this fanfiction and I hope you all love it!! I am new to posting FF on tumblr so if you have any tips or advice feel free!

Deceptive Beginnings Masterlist

Next Chapter

Word count - 5.9k

Warnings - dead parents mention, anxiety symptoms, health issues mention

The shrill blare of your alarm yanks you out of sleep, echoing sharply from somewhere across the room. With a groggy whine, you fling a pillow in its direction—only to notice the noise is coming from your phone. You groan and peel yourself out of bed, checking your phone after turning off the alarm. The time blinks back at you mercilessly. Your first day back at university, after almost a week, you’ll be late if you don’t hurry.

Muttering a quick curse under your breath, you throw down your phone and grab some clothes from your closet: a red and black plaid skirt, fishnets, a random band tee you stole from Taehyung, and your well-worn, thrifted combat boots, a staple of yours. You quickly throw on some simple makeup with heavy and smudged black eyeliner and brush your hair with your fingers before grabbing your phone and bag and practically running out the door.

You barely make it to school on time, breathing a sigh of relief as you glance down at your phone: 8:00 a.m., Monday, October 4th. "I have about 15 minutes before my first class,"  you mutter.

Before you can tuck your phone into your bag, you feel it vibrate. You smile as you see ‘Yoon Man’ flash across the screen. You answer, unable to resist teasing him a little. “Well, good morning to you, too,” you say, knowing exactly how much he despises being up this early.

A low, annoyed groan filters through the line. “Don’t start,” Yoongi mutters, his voice thick with irritation. He pauses, sighing heavily. “Just calling to remind you we’ve got practice today.”

“As if I’d forget.” You scoff, feigning offense as you fall into step, strolling down the hallway. Yoongi chuckles softly on the other end before you hear the 'beep beep beep' of your call being cut short. He unknowingly helped calm your nerves about being back at school.

"Hey, you!" A voice sharply calls out behind you. Before you have time to turn around and react, you feel a firm grip on your wrist pulling you down the hall.

As you glance up, you spot the back of a boy’s head—his longer, wavy hair gathered into a loose ponytail. You barely have time to process it before being pulled into the bathroom. He slams the door shut, locking it behind him with a quick, decisive click.

You look up, and there he is—Jeon Jungkook. You’ve never formally met him, but his reputation precedes him, shadowed by countless rumors. He grins at you, a sparkle in his eyes that you can’t quite read and an air of casual ease that somehow makes him even more infuriating. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you rub the soreness from your wrist, still stinging from his grip.

He smirks, clearly enjoying your irritation, and leans in, his voice dropping to a smooth, playful tone. “I need you to do something for me.” His head tilts as he studies you, flashing a lopsided smile that’s a touch too practiced, a hint too fake—and it sends a chill down your spine despite the easy charm in his gaze.

You look him up and down, finally getting a good look at him before crossing your arms across your chest. "And the way you want to ask me this is by locking me in the bathroom?" You raise an eyebrow, your voice thick with irritation.

He lets out a low, frustrated groan. “I just need you to listen to me for a minute, okay?” He sounds as if he’s trying to keep his usual smooth charm intact. He steps closer, his playful smile fading just enough to reveal a flicker of annoyance beneath it.

As he moves closer, it’s impossible not to notice just how handsome he is. He has big, round, doe-like eyes that are a beautiful shade of brown. His nose is flat at the tip, and his fake smile is charming, even if it does creep you out a little. "I never said I wasn't listening." You reply, trying to mask your unease.

You feel the cold bathroom door against your back as Jungkook steps closer, his hands sliding to rest on either side of your shoulders. He takes a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. "I need you to do me this favor." He looks deep into your eyes, making you even more uncomfortable about the situation.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. "A favor? I don't even know you; I only know of you." Your voice wavers slightly, frustration bleeding into the words. And what I know isn’t exactly promising.

You attempt to brush his hands off your shoulders, but he tightens his grip in response. You feel your chest growing heavy with anxiety and irritation. Seriously? Who does he think he is? The main love interest in a drama?

He’s close—too close—and the faint scent of him invades your senses: clean clothes fresh out of the dryer, undercut with a hint of musk, probably his deodorant. You feel your stomach twist, a mix of annoyance and something you’d rather not name. Focus. He’s not special. Not even close.

"It's not that deep, okay? Just hear me out." He rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh before his gaze locks onto yours once more.

Your heart stutters in your chest, the intensity of his stare igniting a fresh wave of anxiety. Not that deep? That’s rich coming from someone who has me pinned against a door like this. What kind of ‘favor’ even requires this level of dramatics?

"Well, spit it out then." You almost hiss in response. You can feel your patience growing thin as that heavy feeling in your chest continues to grow.

I’m gonna vomit. Your palms feel clammy, your fingers curl into loose fists at your sides, nails digging lightly into your palms. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment before you force it out, trying to maintain a façade of control. He wouldn't actually hurt you. Right?

Your knees lock instinctively, as though bracing yourself for a fight-or-flight moment. A faint buzzing fills your ears, and you’re acutely aware of the heat creeping up your neck. He’s still staring at you, his dark eyes unwavering. Why won’t he just get to the point already? This is unbearable. What if he—

You shove the thought away before it can spiral further. Your jaw clenches, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though the weight of it makes your skin prickle. Don’t show him you’re rattled.

Just focus. Breathe. Just like Yoongi taught you. In through you nose out through your mouth.

He takes another deep breath and brings his face down closer to yours. "I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a week. That's all I need you to do." He flashes you another fake, award-winning smile, the kind that’s disarmingly charming yet entirely unnerving.

"THE FUCK?" You yell into his face. Did he really just ask you that? The absurdity of the request hangs heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless.

He groans at your outburst, swiftly covering your mouth with his left hand. “Be quiet, will you?! I need you to do this.” You glare up at him, but he remains unfazed, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear. “All I need you to do is pretend to be my girlfriend. Don’t overcomplicate it—just say yes.”

"Why should I?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Is he serious right now? Your mind races, caught between disbelief and irritation. Does he think I’m just waiting around for him to swoop in with his ridiculous demands? Who even does that?

Your stomach churns as you try to process what’s happening. Pretend to be his girlfriend? For what? And why me? There are about a hundred other girls in this school who’d probably jump at the chance. So why is he standing here, breathing down my neck like I’m his only option?

You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms as if that alone could shield you from the mess he’s clearly trying to drag you into. Whatever his reason is, it’s not good enough.

He groans and backs away from you, placing his hands on his hips. "I need a girl to pretend to be my girlfriend just for a week." He says with a weary sigh.

You huff, the disbelief bubbling in your chest threatening to spill over. “I want to know the reasoning behind this ridiculous request,” you can feel your muscles relax a little no longer feeling that you are in danger. “Because I’d be sacrificing my peace here at school for you.”

And peace isn’t exactly something I have a lot of to begin with. You internally cringe at the thought of the chaos this would bring—the whispers, the stares, the inevitable drama. Being the ‘Golden Boy’s girlfriend’? Yeah, no thanks. Your stomach churns as the reality of it settles in.

Everyone loves him. He’s good at literally everything. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect charm. But beneath all that ‘perfection,’ there’s a reputation that follows him like a shadow—his love of women.

Of all the people in this school, he picks me? Why? And why the hell does he think I’d agree?

Jungkook groans, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “It’s my parents,” he admits as he turns away from you. “They keep pestering me about when I’ll get a girlfriend, and honestly, I just can’t deal with it anymore.”

You blink, caught between disbelief and amusement. “Then go get a girlfriend? You’ve got tons of girls interested in you.” Your tone is sharp, almost mocking, because seriously—what is this guy’s problem?

You bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh. Does he really not see the irony here? Women practically throw themselves at him for even a sliver of attention. Hell, half the school would line up just for the chance to say they’ve kissed him.

Then a thought hits you, making your stomach churn. Wait, is he pulling that cliché ‘you’re not interested in me, so now I’m interested in you’ nonsense? You nearly gag at the idea. God, gross. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook.

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can tell patience isn’t his strong suit. "It’s complicated, okay? I don’t need my parents up my ass about a relationship right now, so pretend to be my girlfriend just for a week, and I’ll pay you." His eyes flick down to your wrist, lingering on the faint red mark left behind. His tone softens slightly. “And I’m sorry for being so aggressive. I couldn’t exactly bring this up in the hallway.”

You pause, studying him carefully. He almost seems genuine—or at least as genuine as someone making such a ridiculous request can be. Still, your gaze sweeps over him, searching for something—anything—that might betray his true intentions. His body language screams frustration. Is he always this impossible to read?

Narrowing your eyes, you cross your arms. "You aren’t exactly making me want to say yes," you reply flatly, watching as he closes his eyes tightly, clearly wrestling with his composure.

"Come on, I’m literally offering to pay. What do you want me to do?" He sighs deeply before turning his gaze back to you.

Your thoughts linger on his words. Pay. Your band could really use new equipment—Yoongi’s drum set is practically held together by sheer will power at this point. Yoongi and Taehyung have done so much for you; maybe you can survive Jungkook for just a week. Right?

A shiver runs down your spine as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Beg… on my knees?" He says it like a joke, but there’s a flicker of something desperate in his expression.

You smirk, tilting your head up at him. "That’s not a bad idea." You’ve already made up your mind to take his offer, but not without teasing him a little first.

His tongue presses into his cheek, his jaw visibly tightening. "You really want me to get on my knees and beg?"

You purse your lips, barely containing a laugh at his irritated expression. "God, no. Take a joke, dude."

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he replies, as you see his right eye twitch. “Anyway, will you help me or not?” He crosses his arms, shifting his weight in annoyance, the frustration clear on his face.

You heave a loud sigh. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today." You almost surprise yourself with your willingness to agree to this.

His face lights up as he realizes you are going to help him. "Thank you." He gives you a light pat on the head before walking towards the door.

"Uh, excuse me?" You raise an eyebrow at him. That’s it? Was he just going to leave with no other context?

He looks back at you cocking his head to the side, his hand already on the doorknob. "What?"

"Are there any terms and conditions I should be aware of?" You shift your weight from one leg to another, slightly uncomfortable and irritated.

He pauses, giving you a once-over before a smug smirk spreads across his face. “Don’t actually fall in love with me, alright?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, a look of pure disgust crossing your face. "Yeah, that’s pretty easy. Don't worry about that." Good to know he doesn't like you in that way, I guess.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound smooth and a little too confident; he raises his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying I’ve had girls fall in love with me for way less."

You roll your eyes, an annoyed scoff escaping your lips. “God, you’re such a prick. Let me out of the bathroom—now.” He opens the door and steps aside, motioning for you to go first. “Oh, wait. Hold on.”

Jungkook looks at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "What is it now?" You take a piece of paper from your bag and write down your number.

“If you need me this week, here’s my number. And after the week is over, make sure to delete it, Mr. Boyfriend.” You hand him the slip of paper, blowing him a kiss in your usual goodbye fashion before turning and heading off to class.

His hand wraps around your wrist for the second time. “Hold on—I want to set some ground rules actually,” he snaps, clearly annoyed.

"Well, you can talk and walk then because you will make me late for class." You growl back.

“So, other than not falling in love with you, what other rules are there?” you hiss, rubbing your wrist in annoyance as he finally lets go. He has a bad habit of grabbing you. You take a mental note.

Jungkook holds up his fingers, counting off each rule as he lists them. “One: no falling in love with me, duh. Two: no doing anything too intimate—no kissing or anything, just holding hands and cuddling. Three: be a convincing ‘girlfriend’; pretend to be all lovey-dovey and stuff.” The way he sounds so confident that you might fall in love with him really pisses you off.

“Well, I also have some rules,” you say with a smirk, mimicking him as you list yours. “One: no falling in love with me. Two: you can only touch my hands, arms, and head; if you touch anywhere else, I’ll break your hand. Three: try not to be insufferable to be around.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What the hell? I’m going to be insufferable? Don’t insult me like that! I’m charming to be around!”

You laugh, giving him a playful pat on the head. “Sure you are, sweetie.” Pausing in front of your classroom, you add, “See you later, Mr. Boyfriend.” You blow him a teasing kiss before heading inside.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll text you later,” he grumbles. Glancing back, you catch him adjusting his hair with a mildly annoyed expression.

You sat through your first class, barely registering anything the professor said. It wasn’t because of your new fake boyfriend but the excitement about band practice with Yoongi and Taehyung after such a long break. This was your fourth time out of the hospital this year. Any surge of stress or excitement left you fainting. Ever since your parents passed a few years back, those intense emotions have felt like too much to handle. You just wanted to sing with your friends again, to feel free—even if only for a while—without worrying about what tomorrow might bring.

After several mind-numbing classes, you barely paid attention to, three o'clock finally arrived—band practice time. You practically bolted out of class, but of course, things couldn’t be that easy. You ran face-first into Jungkook’s chest. Glaring up at him while rubbing your nose, you huffed, “What the hell, dude?”

He looks down at you, flashing a smug grin and raising an eyebrow. “What? I just came to pick up my girlfriend after her classes were over.” He emphasizes girlfriend, making sure everyone nearby hears him.

Oh, for the love of—. You can practically feel your classmates’ eyes boring into you.

Realizing that the fake relationship is officially underway, you slip your arm through his, pulling it close to your chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, baby!” you say, flashing him an exaggeratedly sweet smile. To your annoyance, his arm feels softer than you’d expected. Why does that irritate you more?

Jungkook glances down at you, trying and almost failing to hide a scoff at your sudden shift in tone. “Glad to see you’re taking this seriously,” he mutters, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

You give his arm a sharp pinch, making him flinch. “Let’s go, honey!” you say with a forced cheeriness, dragging him around the corner and away from the gawking eyes in the classroom. The moment you’re out of sight, your smile drops, and you scowl up at him. “Don’t ever surprise me like that again, Jungkook.”

He quickly pulls his arm free, rubbing the spot where you pinched him. “You know, if I’d known you were this mean, maybe I’d have asked someone else to play ‘girlfriend.’” He frowns, looking down at you with a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Maybe you should have done that, then,” you say, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, sweet as sugar but laced with sarcasm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have band practice.” As you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to face him. You glare at him, hissing, “You really have a bad habit of grabbing me.”

He quickly releases your wrist, holding his hands up in mock apology. “Sorry. I was just curious about your practice—I didn’t know you were into music, let alone in a band.” His eyes light up and glitter with excitement. His eyes light up with genuine excitement, and for a moment, you pause. Why does he seem so interested? But you don’t have time to unpack it.

“Yes, I am,” you reply coolly, stepping back. “And because of your little stunt, I’m going to be late. So, I’ll catch you later.” 

You turn to walk away, but then pause, glancing over your shoulder with a narrowed gaze. “Don’t you dare follow me,” you warn, your tone sharp.

You make a few turns, and with each step, you glance back—Jungkook isn’t behind you. You let out a quiet sigh of relief before pushing open the door to the spare classroom. As soon as you step inside, the annoyed glares of your bandmates, Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung, hit you. They're already looking at you like you’ve committed a crime for being late.

“Late, again,” Yoongi mutters, glancing from his watch back to you with an expression of mild disbelief. “You’re really going to be late on your first day back to practice? You have a bad habit of that.”

Taehyung groans loudly, throwing his head back in mock exasperation. “You’re late again! What is it with you and time?”

You wince, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, yeah, Yoongi. Thanks for the reminder this morning,” you reply with a roll of your eyes before giving Taehyung a playful glare. “And thanks for the moral support, Tae.”

You can’t help but laugh at their irritation. “Alright, alright, I swear, this time I’ve actually got a good reason.”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What, what was so important that you were late for band practice?" His gaze is intense, a sharp contrast to the concern that’s barely hidden beneath his irritation. While his words are harsh, you know better than anyone that Yoongi could never truly be angry with you over something so small.

"Apparently, I have a boyfriend now." You smile, crossing your arms as you glance between both boys.

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a look before turning back to you, both clearly confused. "You have a what?" they ask in unison.

You double over, laughing at their stunned expressions. “Jungkook is paying me to pretend to be his girlfriend for a week.”

They both stare at you in disbelief and after a beat, Taehyung finally breaks the silence. “So… he’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend?” he repeats, almost as if to confirm he heard you right.

"Yup! Now we can get some better equipment." You glance at Yoongi's shabby drum set with a raised eyebrow.

Your chest tightens, remembering why he’s stuck with that old kit in the first place. He had to quit his part-time job just to help you keep it together—your mess became his responsibility. I have to do something for him in return.

Yoongi sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting being involved in this conversation. “Only you would agree to something as strange and weird as that. This better not blow up in your face,” he says, his voice a mix of exasperation and a hint of unspoken concern.

“Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t come running to save me if it came down to it.” You fold your arms dramatically and tilt your head with mock defiance. “You need your vocalist, after all.”

Yoongi snorts. "I’m just saying, this dude sounds like a creep."

"Oh, he definitely is. The most popular guy in school picks one of the only punk girls to pretend to be his girlfriend?” You laugh. “ AT LEAST I’m getting paid.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and leans back, folding his arms as he drops onto the drum stool with a grunt. “Of course, you’re getting paid. That’s the only way you’d agree to pretend to be his girlfriend.” He drums his fingers on the edge of the kit, clearly irritated.

Taehyung blinks, shaking his head like he’s snapping out of a trance. "Wait, how much is he paying you?"

“Oh my god, I forgot to ask!” Your jaw drops, and you slap a hand to your forehead in disbelief. Of course, you forgot.

Yoongi sighs, mirroring your gesture with his own hand against his forehead. “Of course you did. I’m not even surprised. Did you at least establish any rules with him?”

“Obviously!” You roll your eyes, counting off on your fingers. “Rule one: he’s not allowed to fall in love with me. Rule two: he can only touch my hands, arms, and head. And rule three: he cannot, under any circumstances, be insufferable to be around.”

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a wary glance; eyebrows raised, clearly questioning your sanity.

You let out a small huff. “His rules? I can’t fall for him; we’re keeping it strictly PG, and I actually have to convince people I’m a real girlfriend.” How am I supposed to even be convincing? He better have a plan.

"So, all that’s going to happen is you hold hands and… No kissing?" Yoongi’s voice is casual, but there’s a hint of tension as he asks, looking visibly relieved when you confirm it.

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, raising an eyebrow. "Hell no," you scoff, rolling your eyes for emphasis. "I’d rather die than kiss him!" You scrunch your face in disgust. "Plus, he can’t get all touchy either—he’s got clear boundaries: head, arms, and hands only."

Yoongi sighs, clearly relieved. "Well, thank god for that. But isn’t it gonna be weird for you? Pretending to be in a relationship with some popular ass guy?"

"Oh no, it’s totally weird!" You scoff, shaking your head as the memory of this morning’s interaction floods back. "I still can’t believe he told me not to fall in love with him. Like, are you kidding me? Fucking ridiculous."

Taehyung’s fingers still over the strings of his guitar for a moment before resuming, the sound soft and almost hesitant. His voice is quieter than usual. "What if you actually do fall in love, though?"

The room falls deathly silent. You and Yoongi both freeze mid-motion, your eyes snapping to Taehyung as though he’s just spoken some forbidden truth. "Are you serious?" Yoongi’s voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and disbelieving, but there’s a weight to it, a subtle threat of unease.

Taehyung leans back slightly, meeting your gaze with an unsettling steadiness. There’s no playful quirk of his lips, no teasing spark in his eyes like he usually has. "What? It happens," he says plainly, his tone disarmingly calm. "People fall in love when they least expect it."

A chill snakes down your spine, cold and unrelenting, rooting you to the spot. The blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. "Don't make me sick, Tae," you snap, but your voice betrays you—lower and unsteady.

Yoongi shifts in his seat. His usual nonchalant expression falters, replaced by something harder to read—something taut and uncomfortable. He clears his throat, his voice rough and clipped as he tries to steer the moment back to safer ground. "Enough of this crap," he mutters, his tone almost forceful. "We have work to do. Let’s get focused."

The weight in the room lingers a moment longer, thick and suffocating, before the soft hum of Taehyung’s guitar strings eases back in. But the tension doesn’t dissipate entirely—it hangs there, unspoken and unresolved, like a shadow neither of you are ready to face.

You all drop the topic of Jungkook and dive into band practice. Hours fly by, and it isn’t until the fading light outside catches your eye that you realize how late it’s gotten. Yoongi and Taehyung start packing up their equipment, while you gulp down some water, trying to cool the dryness in your throat. "Good job today, guys!" you say, grinning.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, you did good too, even though you were late—like always." He smirks, clearly waiting for your response.

You shoot him a playful glare. "I told you I had a good reason, didn’t I?"

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. "Pretending to be in a fake relationship with the most popular guy in school is not a good enough reason to excuse being late to band practice."

You pout at Taehyung, exaggerating the quiver of your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. Could you ever forgive me?” You clasp your hands together, blinking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Taehyung has always been the softer one with you, and you know exactly how to play your cards.

Taehyung immediately bursts into laughter, clutching his chest in mock pain. “How could I ever stay mad at you? You’re way too cute when you’re apologizing,” he says, grinning wide.

You can’t help but smile back, the warmth in his expression settling over you like a hug. I hope Tae knows how much he really means to me. He always knows how to brighten the mood, even when I probably don’t deserve it.

Yoongi snorts from behind his drum kit, his eyes narrowing as he leans back with his arms crossed. “Cute? More like manipulative,” he deadpans. “You’re always asking to be forgiven. Here’s an idea—just show up on time for once, and maybe we won’t have to keep forgiving you.”

“Hey!” You whirl on him, hands on your hips. “I said I was sorry! You’re so grumpy, Yoongi. I swear, you act like being two minutes late is a crime against humanity.”

“It’s never just two minutes,” Yoongi retorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “And being on time is the bare minimum.”

“Hardass,” Taehyung mutters, shaking his head as he smacks Yoongi lightly on the arm. “Cut her some slack. She had a long day. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never been late before.”

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You two are impossible.”

You flash them both a radiant smile, stepping toward the door with a little bounce in your step. “I’ll try my best tomorrow,” you promise with faux sincerity, throwing a playful kiss over your shoulder as you reach for the handle. “Goodnight, boys!”

“Don’t trip on the way out!” Yoongi calls after you, shaking his head, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Once the door swings shut behind you, the room grows quiet, the faint echo of your laughter fading into the hallway. Taehyung’s playful demeanor softens, his fingers fidgeting with the pick in his hand. He glances at Yoongi, his voice lowering. “Do you think she’s okay?”

Yoongi looks at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he lets out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admits, his tone quieter, heavier. “But you know how she is. She won’t say anything until it’s too late. She never does.”

Taehyung nods solemnly, a shadow of concern flickering in his eyes. “I just... I don’t want her to burn herself out. She’s already got enough going on without adding this whole thing with Jungkook.”

Yoongi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m worried, too, Tae. But you know her. Once she’s made up her mind, there’s no stopping her.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared concern hanging in the air. Finally, Yoongi pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his bag. “Come on. We can’t do much about it tonight. Let’s get out of here.”

Taehyung lingers for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the door where you’d just disappeared, before slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and following Yoongi out. The two of them walk out into the night, their unspoken worry trailing behind them like a shadow.

Once you arrive home, you start getting ready for bed. As you’re removing your makeup and slipping into your pajamas, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. After climbing into bed, you grab your phone and check the message.

Unknown number:

Hey. It's Jungkook.

You hesitate for a moment before saving his name and number in your contacts, then finally respond.

You:

ok

Before you can even lock your phone, another text comes through.

Jungkook:

Just wanted to make sure this is the right number lol 👍

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down as you start to drift off to sleep. But just as you begin to relax, another buzz from your phone jolts you awake. You groan and check it again.

Jungkook:

Wait, don’t leave me on read, I swear I have a good reason for texting at this late at night!

You:

What is your reason then?

He takes a moment longer to respond than usual, and just as you’re about to put your phone down, a new message pops up.

Jungkook:

I just wanted to talk to my 'girlfriend', can’t I do that? 🥴

You scoff at your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debate whether or not to respond.

You:

well boyfriend if there isn’t anything to talk about then I’m going to bed

Jungkook:

But there is something to talk about, it’s about us 😏

You can physically feel yourself cringe at his message.

You:

what about us darling?

Jungkook:

We need to establish some more rules, there’s something we didn’t talk about this afternoon

You:

go on

Jungkook:

We never talked about public displays of affection. Hand holding is fine but we need to establish how much physical contact is gonna be allowed

You:

Why do we need to do PDA? I figured I would just meet your parents and then we are all good

Jungkook:

They tease me all the time for never seeing the same girl twice.

Jungkook:

They think something is wrong with me and I can’t keep a girl

You re-read his message a few times and think it over before finally responding.

You:

I thought this was for your parents not your friends

This time, his response takes longer. The text bubble pops up and disappears a few times before his message finally comes through.

Jungkook:

I mean yeah, but I need to show my friends also soooo, how’s a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, and having my arm around your shoulders?

You:

that’s fine but don’t get too carried away because i wasn’t joking about breaking your hand

Jungkook:

Wow you’re brutal, I’ll make sure to not do anything that’s too much for you, how could I possibly scare away my fake girlfriend, right? 😏

You groan and your fingers circle your keyboard a few times, frustrated, before you type out another message.

You:

I have a question for you boyfriend

Not even a second passes before he responds.

Jungkook:

Shoot

You:

Why did you pick the one punk girl in school to be your fake girlfriend?

Jungkook takes a while to respond, and just as you're about to lock your phone, it lights up again with his message.

Jungkook:

Well, you’re the only girl that’s attractive at this school that isn’t popular, plus, I’ve been lowkey obsessed with punk girls

You scrunch your face as if you just had a lemon shoved in your mouth.

You:

Gross.

He texts back immediately, his words seemingly laced with offense.

Jungkook:

What do you mean gross? Whats wrong with loving punk girls?

You’re done with the back-and-forth and decide to leave him on read. You lock your phone and set it down, only for it to light up again a few minutes later with another message from him.

Jungkook:

Oh hell no, don’t ignore me, don’t leave me of read again, I know you’re awake, answer me

Jungkook:

Don’t ignore me

Jungkook:

I know you’re awake

Jungkook:

I’ll continue to spam you if you don’t answer me

Jungkook:

punk

You can’t help but laugh at his irritation, finally deciding to send him one last message.

You:

I need my beauty rest, I’ll see you tomorrow 🖕

Jungkook:

Wow, that’s a mean response to your boyfriend, whatever happened to being all lovey dovey with me? 💔

You turn off his notifications and lock your phone, placing it face down on the table, finally allowing yourself to sleep.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is still sitting up in bed, hunched over his phone. He stares at the screen in disbelief. "Is she serious? How can she just stop responding to me?!" He continues to spam your phone with messages a few more times before he finally realizes you're no longer reading them. With a frustrated huff, he sends one final message.

Jungkook:

Whatever, goodnight 'girlfriend'

Next Chapter

©Candyshin00 '24

[ultralightpoe]

Pinky Promises - Chapter One

Authors Note: Yeahhhhh baby. Chapter one is out.

Word Count: 8,316 Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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Song of the Chapter : Hungry Like The Wolf

September 17th, 1983 - Saturday

“When I marry rich the first thing I’m doing is buying Eddie better taste in music.” Cece Miller mutters angrily whilst following her best friend through an over packed house 30 minutes outside of Hawkins, keeping a freshly manicured hand wrapped around the blondes wrist to keep her close as both their feet stumble across the floors. Via’s heavy boots thud against the linoleum of the kitchen while Cece’s heels click. The complete opposites. 

When Via stumbles under the harsh new light of the kitchen her hand pulls Cece who stumbles as well, the former trying not to laugh when Cece’s face smushed into her back quickly with a disgruntled gasp. 

“Slow down, Via.” She grounds out, her nails digging into the flesh of Via’s arm which makes her gasp out in pain. 

“Easy on the flesh, I’m going as slow as I can. Unless you want to be stuck between a bunch of people grinding?” She teases, reaching her free hand behind her to release some of the tension of Cece’s hold. Both of them back up with a simple step as a random jock in a letterman jacket dashes past to the bathrooms. “And so the mighty are already falling.”

“Jesus.” Cece grimaces as they both watch him shove past others. “I can never tell if I love these types of parties or hate them.”

“A bit of both as I’ve come to realize. You know, from all my years attending them.” A shit eating grin spreads across her face as she turns to look at her friend, biting back a laugh when the brunette merely rolls her eyes as she smooths out her hair. 

“How could I forget? Show me your partying ways ‘oh wise one’.” She mocks a little bow as she says it. The both of them already knew that their only experience of parties came from this past summer and this school year, and even then it’s whenever they can trick their parents. 

“Well we’ve already had a couple drinks-”

“Whoope.”

“And Eddie is still playing this trash metal music-”

“Are you shocked?”

“So another round of drinks and then we go on a hunt for the damn speakers and switch out the music for something worth a damn.” Via offers, wiggling her eyebrows as Cece cracks out into a fit of laughter. 

“Mission accepted. Let’s get moving.” With that she takes the lead, Via having to grab onto her wrist to stay connected as they once again make their way through the hectic floor. Bumping shoulders with partygoer after partygoer. 

Cecelia Miller was a force of nature in settings like this. She was one of the few girls that knew how beautiful she was and flaunted it well. She wore short skirts, that had once been longer skirts her mother thrifted but the girl had a knack of turning anything into her fashion. 10 minutes on a sewing machine and she was wearing the type of clothes that could have been in one of those lame fashion magazines Via had seen her obsess over day after day. 

It was a shame her fashion sense and beauty had earned her the label of ‘School Slut’ at Hawkins when anyone that knew the girl knew she was a virgin. But that didn’t matter to any of the assholes at school, they didn’t truly care about anyone else but themselves. 

Tonight she wore a skintight black skirt that had once been a pair of pleather pants, and a pink off the shoulder top that had once been a long sleeve floral shirt that Cece’s grandmother would wear to their church. 

Via’s own outfit had been one of Cece’s creations. A tight purple and black checkered dress hemmed from one of her sister's old ankle length skirts with a pair of pantyhose and an overly large gray blazer. When Via had thrown the blazer on she felt the same nervous bubbling she used to get whenever she tried on Nana's homemade dresses. 

Cece’s face always held the same amount of excitement her Nana’s once held whenever she looked at her creations. It always made something churn in her gut as she remembered the worn lines of her Nana’s face and the happiness laid in her eyes. But that was gone. Her Nana was gone. 

And Harrington had laughed. 

But she couldn’t think about that memory right now, not when her friend had led them both to the kitchens and had snatched two cups. As she inspected the insides of the cups to make sure they are clean, Via moves to find the last unopened bottle of vodka and turns to pour them out. 

Her father once said something about ‘yin and yang’ the first time Cece had spent the night at the old house. He laughed about how well they worked with each other, smooth and unbreakable. Working in tandem as they did the dishes or homework. Each others exact opposites and still never missing a beat. 

That carried to this day, and Via truly had no clue what she would do without her friend. 

“Do you want coke or lemonade?” Cece asks, still holding both the cups as she looks over to where the chasers were. 

“The cap to the coke is lost. Better safe than sorry.” Via hums out and grabs the lemonade to pour into the cups while Cece keeps an eye around them. Once both of them are filled enough the lemonade is set half haphazardly on the table again and Cece passes a cup to Vias outstretched hand easily, scoffing a bit when the bleach blonde tries drinking before cheers. “Sorry sorry.”

“Cheers to us, bitch.” Cece giggles, wiggling side to side in excitement before she gestures for Via to cheers her back. 

“Cheers to…” Surviving another year at Hawkins, not killing anyone and passing grades. “Being here?”

“Terrible toast. You’re never speaking at my wedding.” 

“You mean when you marry a rich man?” 

“Don’t laugh. I’ll buy you all the nice art supplies you want when I’m making the money.” She huffs once more, glaring at the boy that tries to come up and talk to them with his shirt off.  “A little busy here? Find someone else to bother.” 

He grumbles something under his breath before storming off and she merely rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Everyone here is disgusting.” 

“How shocking that you think people are disgusting.” Via mocks, giggling at her friends' annoyed expression before they tap their cups together and pinch their noses to chug the drinks quickly. 

They move to pour one last round before they abandon the kitchen and stagger their way across the floor in search for where the music was being played from. Their hands stay entwined tight, always keeping close no matter what. It was one of the rules they made at the first party they had ever been to after a risky interaction with one of the freaks Eddie had invited from that bar he always went to. 

Now, no matter what party they went to, one of them had to keep their hands on the other. Like the buddy system in kindergarten. 

“Okay so get into Eddie’s mindset.” Cece giggles, leading them into a hallway that has a little room to loiter. “I’m some sort of evil genius that throws random ragers which are just ruses to torture a crowd with my shit music. Where do I hide the radio?”

“Up his ass probably.” Via laughs, fanning her hand out to cool herself down a bit. Sweat began to cling to the back of her neck. “Do you have a hair tie?”

“Shhhhh I am thinking.” Cece snaps, putting her hand up to the blonde's face as she looks around. 

“Or we can follow a chord from one of the speakers?” Via offers, snatching her friend's hand and stealing a hair tie from the slender wrist and putting her hair up while the other girls gasps in excitement. 

“You are a genius. And not the evil kind like your cousin.” She exclaims before moving to find a speaker and before they know it they are following the chord to the radio and hijacking it to a different station. The crowd is a mix of boos and excited chants as dancing begins downstairs. 

 They escape the scene of the crime, giggling the entire time, especially when Via trips on the bottom step of the staircase leading back down to the living room area where most of the dancing was beginning. 

Hungry Like The Wolf begins blasting through the speakers and Cece yells in excitement, dragging Via the last couple steps towards the dance floor and throwing them both in without a second thought. 

1 song turned to 3 more. Which turned to 5 more songs and by the time Via managed to drag Cece away from the crowd and out the door, the sweat that had covered most of her skin sent chills down her spine as it soaks up the cold night air. 

Cece leans against the railing close to the door, leaning back and fixing her hair so the air can hit her face a little better while Via staggers to the opposite railing with her eyes closed as every muscle in her body relaxes, wrapping the oversized blazer around herself to preserve some warmth. 

“It’s not warm looking cool is it?” A voice from below the porch snaps her out of the calm daze, scaring her a bit before she blinks away the blurriness and finds her cousin sitting in the grass of the lawn smiling from ear to ear. “You the little shit that switched my music?”

The scent of caramel and sweat fill Via’s senses as Cece joins her side with an overdramatic huff. “The music you were playing sucked. So you can’t pull your better than thou attitude with us.”

“Hello, Cecelia.” Eddie grins, leaning against the wall of the house as he stares up at her. “You both would be a lot warmer if you dressed like me, you see I have a leather jacket and a flannel because unlike you I-”

“Look like a dweeb?” Cece scoffs, using her fingers to swiper under her eyes in an attempt to clean the makeup that had pooled there. 

 There is a slam of a car door not far off that pulls Via’s attention as the two around her continue their small argument, but the people getting out of the car have fully grabbed all of her attention. The three boys in the Hawkins jerseys all shoving each other drunkenly and laughing like maniacs as they stagger across the lawn to get to the front door. 

Via watches for a moment, waiting to see if another figure would emerge, one that she knew like the back of her hand. When he doesn’t she takes a deep breath in and turns back to where her cousin was still sitting and hauls herself up onto the railing to throw her body over. The only problem was she had a little too much to drink so it’s not as smooth as she would like it to be and she ends up just falling forward. 

Cece gasps out and it’s like a slow motion horror story as Via watches the ground come at her quickly, or well maybe she was coming at the ground too quickly but who's to say? Before she can really crash her cousin is there, laughing as he takes most of the hit and they both sprawl across the dirt and grass. 

It takes her a moment to catch her breath since the fall knocked the wind out of her lungs, and by the time she finally does she has to pick herself up off the ground to spot Cece climbing through the rails rather than over them. 

Eddie groans in pain as he dashes to help her before the jocks hit the porch, all three of them ducking down so the clowns in jock jackets don’t see them. 

“Is there a reason you are hiding in the bushes?” Via taunts, still a little out of breath from her fall and her back shooting with pain. 

“Party got a little boring.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall again as his hand pats down his jacket before he pulls a sandwich baggie with a joint and a lighter tossed into it. “Needed a break.”

“You fell down here after leaning on the railing.” Via guesses which makes her cousin lean to punch her shoulder harshly. She grunts in pain once more before slapping his arm back and before he can hit back Cece leans to snatch the joint from him while he is distracted. 

“Of course. You two follow me out here just to team up on me as usual. This will not stand, you hear me?” Eddie rants, shaking his head. “I’m putting my foot down, Cecelia.”

“Don’t say my name like that, Edward.” She snaps, lighting the rolled up joint and taking in a deep inhale before passing it to Via. Eddie whines in the background as Via follows her friend's lead before handing it to Eddie finally. 

“Do you ladies like…. My humble abode?” He squints, gesturing to the big house behind him before smoking as well, watching both of the girls look at the house fully now. 

 “How do you even find these houses?” Via questions, closing her eyes and laying down as the dizziness threatens to consume her.  

Eddie had made a habit of throwing parties in houses for sell, empty and out of town bounds. An idea Cece gave him the last time Hopper caught him with weed, he had gotten into a lot of trouble and she was upset. So now the parties are in houses where Hopper couldn’t find them, and Eddie could sell to people from other towns.

“Oh it’s so easy. I simply read a newspaper and look for open houses then I go to the open house and look up what time they close and once I’m sure they are closed up for the night I break in - which isn’t a crime if I don’t get caught so do not make that face at me Cecelia-”

“Hate when you call me that Edward.” She grunts. 

“-And then I call a random number to a different school from a telephone that cannot be traced-”

“A payphone.” 

“Olivia, please I am trying to lay out my master scheme here. Anyways I call from a phone that cannot be traced to a random student from different schools and tell them the address for the night so I can never be tracked. It’s so simple.”

“I think you need help, Edward.” Via hisses, sitting up to flick his nose before Cece lays down to put her head in Via’s lap and close her eyes. They sit in silence for a moment, just taking a deep breath in as the party is still loud and booming within the house. Hungry Like The Wolf begins to play through the speakers again.  

“I hate you guys for changing the music.” Eddie groans. 

“This party blew before we did that so lose the tone Edward.” Cece mumbles with her eyes still closed. 

“How are things going with you two? It’s been forever since I have seen you both.” He is quick to change the subject. 

“We saw you yesterday.” Via reminds him, leaning back on her palms to relax as he relights his joint and Cece hums out while still using her friend as a pillow. No matter how many parties they went to somehow they always ended up sitting alone and gossiping about the dumbest things possible. Did that make them lame?

Via didn’t think so but Steven Harrington would probably disagree. Just the thought of his stupid face has her clenching her jaw and imagining ways to hit him with a car. But the thoughts betray her, just as they always do. It goes from hitting him with a car to remembering his face that night. 

When she had heard the news about Nana, when she panicked and ran to the one person she thought would make her feel better. But she should have known better, she should have known that he wasn’t who she thought he always was. 

Eddie had warned her long before that and her freshman year had proven as much. But she was still a fool, and she was upset and he had been so drunk . 

The glassiness of his eyes made her stomach sink, the wet of the grass digging into her socks as she tries to process her next words. 

“My Nana is gone…” She sobs, and he only blinks. 

“Are you crying?” He slurs and she can’t tell if he can hear her or not. When she does go to respond she is interrupted by the sound of Tommy Hagan cackling behind Steve. 

He turns to stare at Tommy and Ollie watches in slow time as his chest begins to rise and fall with… laughter. Steve was laughing. At her. 

“Via? Helloooo?” Eddie calls, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

“Sorry? What?” She balks, trying to act calm as both of her friends peer at her as if she were crazy. 

“We thought you were like…. Dying or something. We have been trying to get your attention for hours.” Cece huffs, tears in her eyes. “Don’t die.”

“Okay, don’t get too dramatic Cecelia.” Eddie huffs, though his face still holds a small but of panic. “She is right though. You went pale and just zoned out for a minute.”

“Sorry. Got caught in my head.” Via answers, tension coiling in her chest as they both watch her with fear. When neither of them seemed to relax she lets out a fake laugh, doing her very best to make them believe it. “I’m fine mom and dad. Take a breath.”

“Fine. Just tell me if I need to go grab water.” Eddie huffs, finally sitting back which makes Cece relax as well, though she doesn’t lay her head back in her friends lap and rather sits against the wood hold of the porch with a skeptical look. One Via notes immediately. 

“What were we talking about before I zoned out?”

“We were just catching up.” Eddie mumbles and Via doesn’t miss the way he smears out the rest of the joint, throwing it back in the bag and shoving it in his jacket with shaky hands. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good.” Steve’s laughing face is still deeply engraved in the center of her thoughts but that’s where he stayed whether she liked it or not. 

“I was telling Eds about my essay, the one you helped me with? I got an A on it.” Cece mutters, reaching up to smooth out her hair. “Who knew Cleopatra was so interesting?”

“I did…. And Wiley. He gave me the books for the research, you know?” Via smiles as both their faces melt at the mention of her little brother. 

“Oh I love Wiley!” Cece blurts, her voice filled with the same tone in which you talk to a tiny kitten. “He’s just so sweet!”

“I don’t understand how Wiley doesn’t have friends!” Eddie snaps aggressively, his face pinched up in annoyance. “That kid is so metal. He rocks and I’ll pummel those kids that made fun of him. I promise you that.”

“That’s a crime, Eds.” Cece reminds. 

“Only if you get caught.” He snaps back. “I seriously don’t know what that Wheeler kids problem is.”

“We don’t know it was Wheeler.” Via rushes out, palms outstretched in an attempt to get them both to calm down like they were wild animals.  “But the stutter has gotten better around the house. I have no clue what he sounds like at school.”

It was a partial truth. Wiley had developed a really bad stutter due to some bullying at school and over the years he started to avoid talking all together. His stutter had gotten better around their family lately but that was due to the fact that he avoided talking any chance he could. No matter how much their dad pried for conversation. 

“We should dress up as middle school boys and sneak in to see.”

“Hate to break it to you Cecelia but you have a very large pair of knockers.”

“EDWARD!” She snaps, sitting up to slap his forehead quickly which makes him gasp out in fake shock. 

“That was so rude Cecelia. You truly just hurt my feelings.” He whines, and she rolls her eyes when he smiles at her. 

“Grow up, Munson.”

“You first, Miller.”

“Get a room, Mutts.” Via scoffs, moving to stand on shaky legs. 

“Get a life, Ollie.” Eddie scoffs back, eyes widening when Via picks up a tiny rock to throw at him, and within seconds he’s scrambling to run away as both girls move to attack him. 

- 

20 minutes later Via stands before the side of the house, two cans of spray paint within her hands as she sticks out her tongue from the corner of her mouth in an attempt to better concentrate. Steve used to say it was ‘frog mentality’ and that she would pass all her classes if she kept doing it. But that was back when Steve wasn’t the devil incarnate. 

Cece and Eddie lean against the tree facing the house, both watching my work and critiquing it any chance they get to bother her. 

“I would like to remind the group one more time that I am still working on the project. And you shouldn’t judge it until it’s done.” Via snaps out, tossing the red spray paint into the duffel bag and snatching up a different color, shaking it quickly as Eddie tilts his head to admire the work. 

“It looks uneven.” He smirks and Cece gasps dramatically. “Eds I was literally about to say that.”

“I hate you both.” Via mumbles under her breath which makes them laugh as she continues on. They begin talking amongst themselves, Cece reminding Eddie about homework to which he argues that he did it and they begin a whisper debate, and at some point Via begins to zone them out and focus on the project at hand. Their words fade out, and the colors become the only thing that matters. They blend together and soon enough a face comes into view, the brick all turning into a portrait of despair. 

By the time she steps back all she can do is blink at the creation, smiling from ear to ear as her cousin whistles slowly and walks up to where she stands. “Is that Marilyn Monroe?”

“Oh my god Eddie. It is obviously Marilyn Monroe.” Cece sighs, coming up to huddle next to them both for warmth as each of them fight off shivers. “I cannot believe you did that with spray paint.”

“Is she crying or smiling?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to further admire the portrait. 

“Both? I don’t know. I kind of just let the paint take control.” Via admits, face heating as both of them immediately groan out. 

“I’m Via and I speak to the paint.” Eddie mocks, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder before his face goes dead serious. “You’re not….huffing the paint are you?”

“Shut up Edward!” Cece snaps which makes Via smile, laughing a bit until the defense turns against her. “She only does that every now and then. She mostly huffs the bleach for her hair.”

“YOU do my hair!” Via groans, shoving Cece away as she packs up the duffel of spray paint and snatches the polaroid camera from the bag before stepping back and taking a picture of her latest mural. 

The second the picture is formed she can do nothing but smile at it. 

“Alright, go pose.” Cece giggles, snatching the camera and shoving Via in the direction of the mural. The blonde doesn’t argue, and immediately dashes to pose in front of the brick wall with a wide smile, both her middle fingers pointed to the camera as Cece takes the picture. 

She shakes the picture with excitement as Eddie shuffles closer to see it. Once it’s developed they both show their excitement, Eddie with a ‘hell yeah’ and Cece with a loud squeal. 

“You look so good!” The brunette laughs.

“Badass.” Eddie confirms and Via snatches the photo to look at it herself. 

Sometimes seeing her reflection or photo these days still kind of shocked her, like a stranger she had never had the chance to properly meet. 

After Nana had passed she had gone through many changes. 

It had started the day she chopped her long hair down to her collarbone, sobbing violently until she rushed to Cece’s house before her parents could see it. Cece’s mother had evened out the chop and helped the girls bleach her hair, since she was a hair stylist. 

The pink came from a night at Cece’s house while her mom slept over at her nasty boyfriend's place. Cece had been upset and Via had of course rushed over, they read in one of her lame magazines that color in the hair was the new thing so they started with Via. But by the time the pink had been dyed Cece lost her nerve and had never added any blue to her own. 

This led to a fight, one of their biggest, and they went a whole 20 minutes of not talking to each other. It was intense. (Eddie says they are both too codependent. They both tell him to shove it)

Gone were the days of the handmade dresses her Nana used to spend hours making, gone were the days of being bullied over them. Not that Via ever hated the dresses, they were all gifts from her Nana, but she liked that she could grow into her style some more. There were still a couple dresses kept safe in the back of her closet though. Kept safe and hidden. 

Cece had taught her makeup…. Well she tried to teach her makeup but the two had very different thoughts on how makeup should look. Cece went for a glam look, foundation and glitter. Via went for a…. She liked eyeliner. 

And Via loved her new look, she loved everything about it. She just wishes she had more time to grow into it rather than changing it in one summer. 

But it was time things moved forward. Freshman year from hell had proved as much. Harrington and his friends had made it dreadful. And her one best friend….. 

“Okay, we need to get out of here before the cops show up. That party is only getting louder.” Eddie reminds. He makes sure everything is picked up and gives them both one more protective look. “I’m gonna go find my sophomores. You two good to get home?”

“Tell Gareth and Jeff I say hello.” Cece smiles, fluttering her eyes which makes Eddie roll his eyes once more. Everyone knew both of them had huge crushes on her, the kind that left them speechless whenever she was near. 

“I already told you not to bully my youth, Cecelia.”

“Blah blah blah.” She snaps, leaning to kiss his cheek before moving to walk away leaving Via behind for a moment. 

“You okay?” He blurts after a moment, both of them watching Cece walk across the lawn in her heels, yelling in disgust when they keep sinking in the mud. 

“Oh my god I’m fine. It was just a zoned out moment.  I’ll drive her home and walk.” she sighs in aggravation, twisting the bracelet on her arm nervously. “You can even come knock on our door when you get home to make sure I made it.”

“I meant about the day.” Eddie mumbles, finally turning to her with that knowing look that normally sets her on edge. “I know how…..close you were .”

“I’m fine. It’s just a day.” She laughs, not enjoying the queasy feeling coiling in her stomach or the way her palms seem to itch with sweat. Memories lunging for her, all around that stupid boy with the stupid smile. “Are you okay to get home?”

Best way to handle Eddie is to change the subject to himself, it’s something she had  learned pretty quickly. He gets as defensive about being okay as she does. Fight fire with fire. 

“How about you call the trailer later and make sure I am alive?” He teases, punching her shoulder. Situation diffused. 

“COME ON!” Cece calls, finally having made it to her car. “I WANT DONUTS!”

“CAN YOU YELL ANY LOUDER?!” Eddie calls back, flipping her the bird before turning back to the house. “Go get the princess her donuts. I gotta find the boys.”

“Bye Edward.” She mumbles back, using his full name to piss him off. 

“Bye Ollie.” He mutters back in the same tone and the grunt of shock that passes his lips when she punches his shoulders makes her smile. “Fine. Via.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

- 

September 17th, 1975

“I officially hate 2nd grade.” Ollie mutters, trying to pull away from her mom as the older blonde fixes the pigtails she had sent her daughter to school in. 

“I just don’t understand how a crayon melted in your hair Ollie.” She grunts, frustration flashing in her eyes as she picks the comb up from the table to once again try tugging some of the wax out. “Stevie? Did you see her?” “No.” He lies, watching from his spot at the kitchen table with his legs swinging back and forth. “She was on her own for this one.”

That part was true at least. 

“Why would you do this Olivia?” Charlotte groans right as Flip comes down the stairs.

“What did Olivia do?”

“Dad! Mom is pulling my hair!” Ollie snitches which makes Steve snort in amusement until she sends a glare his way, promptly shutting him up. 

“Don’t pull my baby's hair.” Her father mumbles, coming up to kiss his wife’s cheek before he stops short. “Olivia Diane Fraser. What the hell did you do?”

Steve sits up straight, eyes widening as he begins to panic. His friend was in deep trouble if her dad was using her full name. There is an urge to defend her, to tell her parents that it wasn’t her fault even if he knew it was. And apart of him knew her dad would never raise a hand to her, but there was still that fear, deep in his stomach that made him want to throw up. 

“I was making Stevie a gift!” She yells back, her face going red with frustration. “It’s his birthday!” 

“Oh you don’t say.” Charlotte laughs, turning to give Steve a wide smile. “Have I said Happy birthday yet Stevie?”

“This morning.” Steve nods, watching Ollie stick her head in the sink to try and get the crayon out again. “You want to see what Ollie made me?” 

“Sure.” Flip sighs, dragging his eyes away from his daughter to see Steve hold out a piece of construction paper with melted crayons all over them. He blinks for a moment as Steve smiles like it’s the best art he’s ever seen. 

Flip however cannot figure out what it is. He just stares, hoping if he blinks enough the image will come to him. 

“It’s flowers!” Steve supplies. “See the wax of the green crayon is the stem and then she was making red and pink flowers with the other crayons and-“ 

“How the hell were you meltin these?” Flip laughs, turning back to his daughter. 

“The sun….. and by pressing them into a lightbulb from a lamp.” Ollie explains, somehow managing to escape her mothers hold and dashing to where Steve sits. “Do you really like it?” 

“It’s the coolest thing ever. I’m keeping it.” He smiles, pulling it closer to him. 

“Alright. We’ll worry about Ollie’s hair later. For right now the big question is upon us.” Flip laughs, sitting at the table and turning to Steve. “What does the birthday boy want for dinner?” 

- 

September 17th, 1983 Saturday 

The mini mart that sat right on the edge of town was probably the worst place to be so late in the night, and this only became apparent to Via when she walked in to find it empty. 

Well, not empty. The lights were on and the radio by the register was playing music but there wasn’t another human in sight. It had an unsettling feel to it and for a second she is glad she had the mind to lock the doors to Cece’s car since the other girl was passed out in the backseat with a ‘car blanket’ strewn over her. Via wouldn’t have even stopped for the donuts if she didn’t want a snack herself. 

The weed and the liquor both claimed hunger in her stomach. 

So, even though it gave her a bad feeling, Via smiled as she used the emptiness of the mini mart to her advantage. Unzipping her purse as she passed through the aisles and shoved some things in it quickly. A small bottle of liquor, a pack of donuts, band-aids, chocolate, matches. 

She is debating if she should shove some gum in when the bell of the door sounds out and her attention drags to it, only to find the one person she never wanted to talk to again. 

Steve Harrington blinks in shock, eyes wide as he looks torn between holding his ground or running away, his hand still on the door. His mouth opens and shuts a couple times before he clears his throat which snaps her back to attention. 

She turns quickly, willing her spine to relax as she lamely stares at the gum choices before her, blinking and waiting. 

Finally after a moment the door finally shuts completely and she lets out a breath, hoping that meant he left. She wasn’t so lucky because a moment later his footsteps can be heard as he passes her until he is an aisle away and looking at the selection of chips they had. 

The only problem was the aisles barely reached their shoulders so they could still see each other. She was just fine ignoring him, but it seemed he would not let this moment pass. 

“Is anyone working?”

“Do I look like I work here, Harrington?” She snarks, snatching up a pack of gum and moving to leave before she realizes that he would probably snitch which meant she would have to pay. Shit. 

Turning to make it look like she wasn’t about to leave she waltzes to the counter and rings the bell, ignoring the feeling of his eyes on her back. 

“Did you walk here? Or is that your car out there?” He asks again, and though she can’t see him she can hear him moving to another aisle to grab what he needed. 

“It’s not my car.” 

“So you walked? I can give you a ride to-”

“It’s my friends. I’m fine.” The answer is more of a disgruntled sigh, one that she wishes held more of a bite. She wishes she knew what would hurt him just as he hurt her, wanting nothing more than to make him bleed the very same way he made her bleed. “Besides. Mormon girls aren’t supposed to be with guys without an escort.”

His grunt of shock makes a small amount of pride bloom in her chest as she hits the bell again, a couple times to see if anyone would bother to hear her. 

“How’s Wiley? Haven’t seen that kid in ag-”

“HELLO?!” She calls, frustration claiming her as he walks a little closer now, hands filled with items. She takes one moment to see what he’s got. Packs of pudding, a bag of chips, and a slim jim. 

“Dinner.” He answers at her look, shrugging a bit. “Fancy isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, shaking her head as she turns back to the counter. She would not admit to remembering what day it was, she would never admit anything to him. 

Reaching for the bell once more before she is cut short by the lights in the mini mart flickering before going out for a moment, then when the lights come back on Via finds herself blinking at Steve in shock. 

He blinks back before a thunk is heard from the bathrooms to the left. 

“Has the worker been in the bathroom this whole time?” Steve asks, setting his items down before heading to the door and knocking lightly. 

“Seriously?” Via scoffs. “You’re gonna bother their bathroom break?”

“I… well- What am I supposed to do Ollie?”

“Don’t call me that-” A loud thunk from the back of the store catches their attention before a couple cans of coke fall off one of the shelves. 

“Nope.” Via grunts, snatching her gum and moving to the door. “I am not dying here.”

Steve is quick to follow her lead, only stopping to grab a box of matches before dashing out the door. 

She, like a fool, waits for him to escape before shutting the door behind him and moving to dash to the safety of Cece’s car before he is calling out quickly. “Hey Ollie…via!”

“It’s late. I have to go.” She snaps, rushing to unlock the driver side door. “If my parents find out I’m this close to Hawkins Lab after dark I’m dead.”

“I… I was just going to say I like the….. Hair?” He mumbles, and she risks one look at him, blinking slowly. The nervous look on his face reminded her of the way things used to be, when they dressed up as pirates and detectives. But before she knows it his laughing face is flashing through her memory. 

She doesn’t bother responding, giving him a glare before getting in the car and starting it up, leaving Harrington at that stupid mini mart. 

It’s not long before they reach Cece’s house, and Via helps her friend stagger inside while doing her best not to wake her little sister that shared the room. She helps get her into bed, tucking her in before leaving the pack of donuts on the nightstand and sneaking out the window. 

The walk to her house was filled with memories and anger, her arms wrapped around herself in a lame attempt to keep warm as her boots crunched on the gravel beneath her. For 10 minutes she combed over that entire interaction with Steve, thinking about all the things she could have said. 

She could have told him to shove it, or that she hopes he loses all his hair. There were so many options and when her home came into view she had to stop from kicking herself at all the lame responses she had given. 

Wiley called this house ‘Grimoire’ since he claims it’s the kind of house you would find in an old warlock's grimoire. And looking at it now, under the little light the moon could offer with the forest behind it, there was no better description. It looked… old and depressing. 

The last few years with Nana all their extra money had gone to her chemo and treatments. When she passed they had been a bit…. Panicky to find somewhere new to live. They had no money. 

This house had been a lucky find. Eddie’s Uncle Wayne had helped them fix it up a bit when they began renting it and over the summer they tried to make it their new home. 

It wasn’t. 

Nothing was these days because they were missing someone. 

But Via couldn’t think about that right now, not as she climbed onto the stack of milk cartons she set up to help her climb through her window in the one story home, doing her best to keep quiet so she didn’t wake anyone up. 

It didn’t matter in the end since the second she closes her window the sound of her door creaking fills the air as Wiley comes into view. 

“Hi, Wye.” She greets, smiling softly as she sits on the edge of her bed to unlace her boots. “What are you doing up?”

“C…couldn’t… couldn’t-t sleep.” He shrugs coming a bit closer and sitting at the chair of her desk where all her art supplies were currently strewn about. Her spray painting gear is hidden in Cece’s trunk of course. “W-were y-y-y-you at…”

She watches him take a deep breath in, choosing to focus his attention on one of her drawings to ease himself and not make eye contact so this was less stressful to him. “Were y-you at Stev-ve’s birthday party?”

“No. I was with Eddie and Cece. They say hi and that they love you by the way.” She smiles, throwing her bag on the bed before pulling out the two chocolate bars. “Look what I got you.”

This pulls a smile from his face as he eagerly snatches one from her hand and tears it open. 

“Did you talk to that Sinclair kid?” Via asks, watching him closely, watching as his face falls a bit and his cheeks redden. 

“T-they were t-talking ab-bout a new c-c-c..”

“Comic? They are reading a new comic? You don’t have it?”

“N-no.” He shakes his head. “Goodnight.”

He gets up and walks out without another word, but he does send her a small smile and she hears the sound of his own door shutting soon after before she gets up herself. 

Wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed she heads down the hall and sets the box of matches in the kitchen drawer where her mom complained about being out before she left, and then she goes into the bathroom to switch out the empty box of bandaids with the ones she got tonight, smiling a bit to herself when she shuffles back to her room. 

The panel in the bottom of her tiny closet lifts easily, and she reaches in to hide the bottle of liquor she stole earlier, her hand grazing something familiar as she pulls it out. The broken half of a canvas she had made herself years ago. 

She remembered the day her dad helped her staple it so she could paint it for her friend, the bob ross picture staring right back at her with a painted figure. It was messy and her work was choppy at best. An ugly painting by an untalented freak. 

But it still pulled all the wrong strings to her heart, drawing tears to her eyes. “Happy birthday Steve Harrington.” 

With that she shoves the canvas back in the hole and covers it back up before crawling into bed. 

- 

September 17th, 1975

Steve and Ollie sat together at the table, faces covered in Nana’s famous pudding as they giggled over the wax painting she had made. 

The wax was out of her hair thanks to Nana pouring half a bottle of lotion in it, now she smelled of lavender and lotion which Steve thought hilarious. 

They shared the last helping of Nana’s pudding right now, Ollie letting Steve have most of it since it is his birthday. 

“Thank you for the gift. I can’t wait to hang it up.” He mumbles through a mouthful of pudding. 

“Happy birthday, Stevie.” Ollie giggles. “You’re my best friend ever.”

September 19th, 1983 - Monday

“That damn tagger did it again Lottie!” Flip Fraser huffs, slamming the newspaper against the table as both his kids shuffle around him to get ready for their day. If he looked up at this moment he might have seen his oldest daughter's humored smile or the way his youngest son gives a fake glare at his sister. 

“They did?” Lottie Fraser asks, dashing into the room with her blonde hair flowing behind her. “Show me.”

It was safe to say her parents were both a little too invested in this tagger situation, since ‘the tagger’ first appeared in the paper for tagging the grocery store with a portrait of JFK three months ago. Not Via’s best work but that one was a dare given by Gareth. Ever since they both always waited for the news to reveal more. 

“A house outside of town. Closer to Hawkins Lab.” Her dad grunts, shaking his head in annoyance. “And no one saw a damned thing.”

“Oh my…” Her mother mumbles, sitting at the empty chair of the table as she reads the article with her husband. “It is a nice mural though. I can’t tell if Marilyn is crying or smiling.”

Via snorts as she remembers her conversation with Eddie. This draws her fathers attention as he looks at her with a smile, dropping the paper on the table and moving to stand and finish brushing his wife’s hair. “How was work yesterday, Olli….via. Olivia. I said Olivia and everyone heard it.”

“Work was fine, nothing really to note.” Via had applied to the town's movie theater the second she found out they were hiring, saving up money to help her parents and maybe get herself a car. It had mostly been the former whether they knew it or not, her parents never wanted her to ‘waste her money on them’.  “It was our senior citizen discount night so not much business. Barely had to sweep up popcorn.”

“Good good.” He smiles, leaning to kiss her forehead as she passes to wash her bowl from breakfast. 

“Wye? You ready for today?” 

“Y-yes.” Wiley smiles, cheeks red as his dad watches him. 

It’s silent for a moment before Lottie leans forward to kiss his cheek. “How has it been going with making friends, baby? You talk to anyone?”

Flip begins braiding her hair, as she continues staring at Wiley with such hope in her eyes. 

“Th-they w-were all talking ab-b-b-”

“Deep breaths, bud.” Flip says gently, smiling when Wiley takes a deep breath in before starting again. 

“They were all talking about a n-new comic book.” He goes slow, not that anyone in the room minds. 

“Do you have the book?” Flip asks, watching Wiley shake his head. 

“But it’s f-fine.”

“No bud, you did all your chores this week.” Flip grunts, finishing off Lottie’s hair and grabbing his wallet. Her fathers cheeks redden as he hands Wiley a dollar. “Is this enough?”

Wiley nods, jumping to hug him before running to grab his school stuff. 

The rest of the morning falls into one of a rushed panic as everyone races around to grab everything they need. Her mom kisses her cheek and does her best to smooth out her daughter's hair before dashing to the blue car Nana left behind and nodding for Wiley to get in. 

Her dad hops into the truck and waits patiently for her to hop in before zooming off to drop his daughter off. 

He stops down the street, telling her to have a good day before driving off to let her walk the rest of the way, just as she requested at the beginning of the year. 

She passes the familiar car that Steve and all his friends usually hang out around, noting that today he was by himself before walking past him to go into the building. 

- 

September 17th, 1983 - Saturday 

Steve Harrington didn’t believe in fate, his mother had spent her days pouring wine and complaining about her horoscope. She claimed fate led her to his father and if that was fate then Steve wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. 

But seeing Ollie tonight had to have been fate. There was no other reasoning behind it. What are the chances he would see her on the night of his birthday? It. Was. Fate.

But that hateful, despising look she gave him before leaving? That was gut-wrenching. 

It clung to him on the rest of the way home from his trip. He hadn’t wanted to go to the party in the first place, he would’ve rather wallowed in self pity all night like an idiot. But he knew if he didn’t make an appearance then Tommy would have said something, but by the time Steve’s car pulled up he saw the lights of police cars and figured he would just go home. 

So he stopped on the way home, where he saw her. 

She looked so different, seeing her on the first day of school this year had been a shock to the system already. But that punching feeling he got in his gut every time she made eye contact? That was a mix between guilt and amazement. 

Walking into the empty house, that had just finished getting redone, he throws his keys on the fresh counter before dropping his junk on it and slamming his finger in the answering machine. 

He already knows there wasn’t going to be any messages, not from either of his parents, yet he still feels disappointed when it’s confirmed. So he reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a candle, throwing one of the pudding cups open aggressively and shoving the candle into the cheap pudding. 

“Happy Birthday Stevie.” He whispers, blowing out the candle and eating the pudding before heading up to his room and digging in his closet. There is a box of things he keeps hidden for when his friends come over and dig through his stuff, so they won’t see all the memories he keeps stored away. 

The broken half of a beautifully painted canvas is the first thing that catches his attention, the colors blending in his sight as he grabs the sweater knitted for him and tosses it on quickly. 

The painting had looked so good, he wondered what Ollie’s paintings looked like now. But before he can think about it too much he slams the lid shut and shuts the light off before heading to bed. 

“Happy birthday indeed.” He sighs.

x Next Chapter x

[quinnswritingquill]

The Drug In Me Is You

Jason Todd x AFAB Reader

✩✫✪✬✭✯✮✰✩✫✪✬✭✯✰✩✫✪✬✭✯✮✰

✩✫✪✬✭✯✮✰✩✫✪✬✭✯✰✩✫✪✬✭✯✮✰

CW: Slowburn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Light? BDSM, Blood Kink, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Honestly Kinky in Gen., Reader has female gentile, Use of Y/N but not too much.

AN: This is pretty much of a what if Jason was a sugar daddy turned lover. I also posted this on Ao3 as well.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ ·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ ·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*

Not everyone is built to handle the harsh world of Gotham. I mean fuck, I was raised in this hell bent city. I grew up surviving just barely over the poverty line. Lower income childhood meant cheap or in the box food for dinner. It meant thrifted clothes or cheap chain stores having sales and deals. Brands for show. School supplies, book ads, shoes, ect.

Nothing would prepare me for tipping my toe onto the world of rich men and wealthy women. Couldn't afford to attend college, not that it was the most important thing for me. But I needed to live on my own. Support myself. Somehow I managed to land a job as a waitress at a high-end restaurant near the wealthiest part of Gotham City. The hourly pay barely covers my rent. But the tips? Those help cover food, some to cover miscellaneous costs, and a little bit extra for savings incase of other crap. Still surviving. Barely but better.

No need for another job right now. It's been months since I started there. And I even have my own little studio apartment because of the job. Within a month of saving all the money I earned and money I previously saved. It's old and covered floor to ceiling with art pieces. Some older and some fairly more recent. I like looking at them. They bring life to this creepy old building.

Today I scrambled recklessly out of bed once my alarm clock started blasting. Turning it off I glanced at the time. Damn it's only 10 am, I still have about a few hours before my shift. I stretched out my sore muscles and walked to my small kitchen to make brunch. I grab out my lovely yogurt bowl and place it on the table along with the food I'm gonna scarf down. I mix my granola mix with some strawberry yogurt in the bowl. A quick meal before I get dressed for work.

By the time I finished eating, showering, dressing up, and cleaning up it's one o'clock. I check my work outfit just in case. We only had two choices that could be four different outfits at work. White or black button up, black slacks, or a knee length skirt. Obviously with tights tho. I picked a fuzzy off my black button up and straightened the pencil skirt. Finally I put my heels into my bag and slipped on my flats.

The restaurant was busy as usual. Honestly I wished for at least one day for us to be slow. But unfortunately rich people don't exactly give one shit. At least I think so. It's not something I would actually say, well to their faces.

My coworker Allison comes up to me as I swipe a card to finish paying my current table's bill.

" Hey Y/N? I just wanted to let you know I just sat three at table ten. The reservation is for Wayne." She said before patting my shoulder.

I smile, " Yeah okay, thanks Ally."

I go back and hand the receipt and card to my leaving table and head towards table ten. Three gorgeous looking men sit, chatting and laughing like they're not at a five star restaurant but at a diner by a public highschool. Weird beautiful men, but alright. I pull out my spiral notepad, pen in my right hand, ready for them to order.

" Hello there! You must be the Wayne reservation. I am your waitress this evening. My name is Y/N. Are gentlemen ready to order drinks?" I make sure to sweeten my words.

The three men stop talking. One with the shorr, but longer dark hair speaks, " Yes we are. We also know what we would like to order as well."

The man with the red hair and the man dawning the short black hair with a white streak also agree with the other gentleman. I jotted down the orders. I collect their menus and walk over to put in the orders so they get sent to the kitchen.

Once they finished eating, I walked over with the receipt and the card that belonged to the charming man with the long hair. I bid the men good day, leaving with the signed copy receipt. I opened the book to see the receipt and three sets of tips. Two were around a hundred in cash tips. The other was. What the hell? Five hundred dollars in cash?? The entire meal cost less than that! I stare blankly at the money before grabbing it out to place it in my wallet I use for my personal tips of the day.

Fuck it, I take it back. Only some rich people are douchebags. I finish my things up and head out to the back side of the building for a short smoke break before I take my lunch. I pull out my unopened cigarette pack from my bag and hit the bottom of the pack before unwrapping it. I grab out my FUCK OFF labeled lighter from the side pocket. I light it and take a long inhale of smoke.

" Got a light?" A voice asks.

I exhale and nod, " Yeah." And hand my lighter over, still not looking over.

He laughs, " Thanks, sweetheart. Did you like the tip? Thought you deserved more since you had to deal with my brother Dick and our friend Roy. They can be… Loud."

That's when I looked over like a deer in headlights, " Uh.. Ooh that was you? And yeah, thank you for the tip. But you do realize the entire check was less than that right? I'm not complaining, just curious."

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth before taking a bit to talk, " Yeah, I know that, darling. But I like spoiling hard-working people. Money is money. I also know that this place gets more money than they pay their waiters and waitresses. I know that most of you survive with tips."

"Oh." I manage out.

I can't but stare at the sincere look on his face. His absolutely hot face. God I need to get a fucking grip. He finishes his cigarette and hands me back my lighter. I put the rest of my own cancer stick out as well before shoving my shit back into my bag.

His hands are in his pocket as he smiles at me.

"My name is Jason, by the way, sweetheart. What's yours?" His right hand extends towards me.

I take his hand to shake, " It's Y/N."

We shake hands but before I can pull away he already turned mine over and plants a light kiss on it. I just stared like a god damned weirdo so unsure of what was going on. Letting my hand go he shoves his own back into his pocket.

"Have a good night Y/N." And he walks away.

What the actual fuck is wrong with me? My face is hot and I rush back inside to grab my lunch. I sit in the back of the locker room slash break room. Recounting the events only worsens my reddened face. I shovel my chicken caesar salad trying to refocus myself. Spoiler alert, that didn't fucking work. I look at the clock on the wall. An hour and I'm out of here. I can just forget pretty boy and move on. He's definitely just a flirt. Get over it Y/N.

Even when I got home, I can confidently say I didn't forget Jason. In actuality, all I did was think about him. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck.

[weemsfreak]

Botany…Of Course, Pt 2

Summary: Peyton is the new botany teacher at Nevermore. They are a telepath. They find themselves on a trip with Principal Weems. They discover what happened the year before they came to Nevermore, amongst other things. Tw: alcohol consumption, description of Larissa's poisoning?

Note: I'm so glad you all liked the first part of this fic! I can start a tag list if anyone wishes to be on it :) @alder-saan ~3700 words

Link to Pt 1

Friday

You were in your hotel room getting ready to explore the scene. Last night when you arrived Larissa went to bed and you stayed up and watched a movie. Larissa was at her conference bright and early this morning, and she would be finished around 5pm. You put on your maxi skirt and crop top. It was warm but not too hot, you loved the weather here. You took your notebook and set out to the conservatory. The whole hotel was nothing but botanical gardens and restaurants. There were beautiful waterfalls, huge rocks, ponds with fish and lily pads, and an abundance of different trees and plants. It was gorgeous and calming. Although it felt like you were outside, everything was covered by a skylight. It smelled so good, fresh almost. You got to the coffee shop and ordered an iced chai tea latte and a soft pretzel. You walked around until you settled by a waterfall underneath a large rock. It was a bit hidden, like a cave, which you loved. As you ate, you wondered how the conference was going. You wanted to surprise Larissa with something, or plan something fun to do. You knew this was a work trip, but that didn't mean she couldn't also have fun. She deserved it. Walking around the conservatory, you figured you would go through one garden a day and scope out some interesting plants that might be good additions to Nevermore. You loved the palm trees and banana trees, some were 60 feet tall, reaching to the second level. Unfortunately, those would never fit in the conservatory at Nevermore. There were rare international blooms and southern species, many that you hadn't heard of before. You sketched a banana tree from Madagascar, a huge Bird of Paradise from South Africa, some succulents, and Physostigma venenosum from tropical Africa. For a good part of the day you sketched plants and researched them, taking notes in your book. At 2pm, you figured you would go for a walk outside. It was a beautiful day, you wished Larissa could walk with you. You found some thrift shops and headed into one. They had antique houseware, clothing, jewellery, everything you could think of. You ended up buying a ring and pants for yourself, and a vintage scarf from the 60s for Larissa. There were so many things you thought she would love, but you couldn't choose what she would like most. You set out again and ended up in a liquor store. You bought some red wine, you knew Larissa's favorite, and some rum then headed back to the hotel.

You had a few drinks and walked around the conservatory again, admiring the fountains and the lights that covered the ceiling and trees. The rooms all had balcony's overlooking the conservatories, it reminded you of a painting. You settled down at a table under a pavilion next to a large fountain. You got out your notebook and started sketching the scene in front of you. A beautiful building to your left, a pond and fountain to the right, pretty sky lights and a pathway littered with plants on both sides. Walking down the pathway was Larissa. She was adorning her matching cream colored outfit with her lip brooch and kitten heels, admiring the plants as you were admiring her. She wasn't really there of course, you were imagining her, drawing her. You looked to the time, she would be done in 30 minutes. You ran back to the room, cleaning yourself up and cracking open some wine. You had in mind some fun things you and her could do around the hotel if she was up for it, you hoped she was. You were flipping through your notebook and you felt giddy about her return. You liked being alone most of the time, but you really liked being in her presence.

She returned to the room after what felt like forever, looking pretty tired. "Long day?" you said trying not to be too obvious that you were happy to see her. She put her things down then turned to you and smiled, she looked adorable. "Yes, it was very eventful, but it was a lot" she let out a huff and plopped down on her bed across from you. You sat on the edge of your bed and looked at her. She was wearing the cream coloured outfit you had thought of earlier. You took a minute to admire her as you knew her eyes were closed. You started smiling big, ear to ear. You couldn't help yourself, you were a bit drunk. She heard you giggle and opened her eyes, catching you staring at her. She sat up and kicked at your foot with hers, "What are you giggling at?" she laughed, knowing you were admiring her. You pretended you weren't just looking at her, you turned your head and quicky said "nothing" in a joking manner. Larissa looked to her feet and huffed and you realized she wanted to rid her heels. You knelt to the floor and took them off of her feet, placing them away. This surprised and flustered Larissa, like you knew what she was thinking. She was taken back by you doing this, nobody cared for her in such small but meaningful ways before. You knelt back down by her feet, you knew this could look weird, like you were worshiping her. You didn't want her to think that's what you were trying to do, although in reality you would. You took a chance, "Do you want a foot rub? Not in a weird way" you laughed. She blushed and looked down at you, "Well, if you're offering" she said shyly. You did so, coming to learn that her toe nails were the same color as her fingernails. You got up and poured her a glass of wine, "Wine for you my dear" you said while handing it to her. She looked up at you, eyebrows raising questioningly. "Yes, I bought your favorite wine, and yes, I may have had a few drinks while you were gone" you laughed, grabbing your wine and sitting on the bed next to her. You opened your notebook "But, I also did some work. I sketched some plants, I think a couple of these would be good additions back home." She viewed all of your sketches and notes from the day as you explained what you had learned. "These are amazing Peyton, I wish I could have come with you." You looked up at her, eyes lit up. "Well, we can walk around tonight, it will probably be even more beautiful." She smiled and placed her hand on your back, it felt nice. You quickly got up, remembering the scarf that you got her. It was a cream color with some neutral brown tones and small blue flowers. You held it out to her grinning, proud of yourself for finding something you thought she would like. "I went to an antique shop across the street, they have so much stuff that I think you would love. We should go if you have time." She took it from you and admired it, "Is this for me?" "Of course, the blue matches your eyes perfectly." You were shy now, nervous that she would think that you thought of her too much, or that you were being too interested in her. "I mean, I think your eyes are blue, right?" you said while tucking your hair behind your ear in an obviously sarcastic manner. Larissa let out a loud laugh, and your heart filled with joy. "Thank you so much darling, I love it." Larissa would never let on, but her eyes were watering at the thought of you buying this for her. She didn’t get gifts often, and she cherished that you thought of her when she wasn't with you. You saw her eyes glisten, but you didn't say anything. You were happy that she appreciated it. Sitting back on your own bed, you fell down onto your back and stared at the ceiling. Larissa watched you, she knew you had something on your mind. "What are you thinking about love?" You absolutely loved when she called you cute names, you blushed and rolled away from her so she couldn't see your face. "Are you hungry? Maybe we can get dinner and go for a walk?" you said as you sat up to face her again. "Sounds like a plan."

You went to a restaurant in the middle of the hotel. It was surrounded by a pond with fish, lily pads and a waterfall, and trees of course. It did look more beautiful in the night, it was all lit up and you could see the stars through the skylight. Larissa started, wanting to get to know you better. You seemed to know a few things about her, but she felt like she didn't know you. "So Peyton, I saw you with a handsome man the other day at the Weathervane. Boyfriend perhaps?" You looked at Larissa, mouth full of pasta, and almost started laughing. Keep it together Peyton, don't spit your food out. The only man you could remember being with was…OH Cal, your cousin. For some reason you decided to mess with her, "Oh Cal? Yea me and him were together, but he cheated on me with a man, so we broke up." Larissa's eyes went wide, her hand covering her mouth in total shock. Her expression made you laugh, you could only be serious for so long. "LARISSA I'm joking! He's my cousin, he's having trouble with his boyfriend, we were just talking." She let out a breath you saw her holding in, and hung her head in relief. "Oh my god, you had me for a minute there." You both laughed, you were so geeky sometimes. "Yea, I don't have a boyfriend. I like-" you stopped yourself, you didn't really know if you wanted to tell her that you liked women. "You like what?" "Nothing, um, so do you have a boyfriend?" you said looking down and picking at your pasta. She looked down at her food as well, "No, I'm not really interested in that sort of thing." That sort of thing? Like a relationship? "I get it, relationships can be hard, and tiring" you tried to be reassuring. "Very true, the most serious I've gotten was with this girl once, but that was so long ago." Sorry, did she just say girl? Larissa Weems, the Larissa Weems likes girls? A huge smile crept on to your face, and you looked up at her, she was still looking at her food, thank god. "Did you say a girl?" you stuttered by accident, voice low and raspy. She looked to you, worry now written on her face. "Yes, I- I did" she said in an unsure tone. You didn't mean to sound like that was a bad thing, you were just really surprised. Maybe that joke about Cal wasn't the best idea, you weren't trying to make fun. "Well Larissa, maybe we should find a new girl for you" you said with a smile looking at her pretty face. She smiled back, and nodded slightly. You wanted to scream, you weren't the only one at Nevermore who liked girls! You still didn't want to tell her though, not right now. Changing the subject, she started, "What do you like to do for fun?" "Well, lately I like to mess with my powers honestly. I keep finding out I can do things that I didn't know about." Larissa was intrigued, but you didn't know why you told her this. You had hobbies and liked to do things, but you found them rather embarrassing. "Oh, like what?" she prodded. You knew she wouldn't let this go now, so you told her. "Um, well I can give someone a piece of knowledge, or I can erase knowledge or a memory from someone's brain. I can see other peoples memories if they have strong emotion, but only if they allow me to. I also recently obtained the ability to know if someone is lying, but it just comes on at random." She was in awe of your abilities, these things could be a lot of responsibility. "So, if I allow you, you can see my memories?" "Yep, if it's very joyous, traumatizing, or emotionally strong enough." She thought for a second, "Can I see it too? When you look at it?" This was the upside, you thought, to seeing peoples memories. They didn't know what you were seeing, just that they allowed you to see it. "No, you can't see it in time that I do. I don’t do it a lot though, there's no point." She looked like she wanted to say something, had something on her mind. There was silence for a minute, then she just looked away. "Do you want to show me the plants now?" she said excitedly.

As you walked around the conservatory, you showed her every plant that you knew something about, and jokingly told her that she was as tall as one of the trees. Larissa smiled at how cute you were when so caught up in something you loved. She used to love hearing Marilyn talk about the conservatory plants, but unfortunately, who she thought was a real friend turned out to be an enemy. She didn't know if she would ever get over that. "This one is Alsophila latebrosa from Singapore, and this one is Physostigma venenosum from tropical Africa. It has Physostigmine, which is a highly toxic parasympathomimetic alkaloid, it can cure deadly nightshade if taken in the correct dose. I thought that might be good to have in the conservatory.." you cut yourself off as you looked up at Larissa. She was staring into space, not listening to you anymore. "Larissa, are you okay?" you said, really worried about her blank expression and even more pale than usual skin. A minute later she snapped out of it, looking down at you, who was holding her hand staring up at her. "Oh, sorry love. What were you saying?" You were confused, but you continued. "I was saying that I think we should have this in the conservatory at school. It’s the antidote to deadly nightshade." "We don't need it, we don't have Atropa belladonna anymore" she quipped quickly and seriously. This made you more confused, "Yes we do, it's just a small plant. I found it in a locked cabinet behind the desk." Larissa's mouth dropped open, they must have missed it when they searched through the conservatory last year. "Oh, um, Peyton, can you do me a favour?" "Sure Larissa" you were worried about what the favour was going to be. "When we get back to Nevermore, can you bring that plant to me, and if you ever find more in the conservatory, get rid of it immediately." Her tone was strict and demanding, you felt like a student who did something wrong. "Oh, sure Larissa, I can do that" you said quietly but sure. She then realized that you were new to the school and had no clue what this was about, or why you couldn't have this plant. She drug you back to your room, not saying a word.

You were sitting on your bed. Larissa had instructed you to sit and stay as she went to the bathroom. You were wondering if she was mad at you, or if you did something wrong. Searching in your notebook for Physostigma venenosum, you thought of something. She said to get rid of the deadly nightshade, like we weren’t allowed to have it anymore. Something must have happened when Marilyn, or Laurel, went crazy. Why would it be locked up otherwise? Larissa came out of the bathroom in her satin pajamas and sat on her bed. She just sat there, looking down at her lap. When you noticed her staring at nothing again, you sat up to face her. "Peyton, I want you to consider doing me a favour." "Sure Larissa, I'll do you a favour" you said with a hopeful smile. She looked at you, sadness written on her face. "Will you consider erasing a memory for me?" You went wide eyed, you had only done that once before. "I, um, I've only done it once before Larissa, I don't know if it's a good idea" you said in a nervous and sad tone, you felt sorry for her. If she wanted you to erase a memory, it must have been a bad one. "If you consider erasing it, I'll show it to you first, if you want." You pondered for a minute, was it the memory you think it was? "Larissa, is the memory from last year? You know, Marilyn?" Her eyes met yours and she nodded her head. You got up and sat beside her, taking her hands in yours. "I'll see it if you want me to Larissa, but maybe it's better that we don't dig it out any further." In reality she wanted you to see it, she wanted someone else to see it, to feel it. She wanted Marilyn to feel what it was like. She wanted someone, you, to tell her she wasn't crazy for being scared. "I want you to see it" she said in the lowest whisper you had ever heard. You moved closer to her and with an "Okay," you were in her mind. This was the only memory available for you to see, she really did want you to see it.

*The Nevermore Conservatory, last year*

You were in the conservatory, a red head a couple feet in front of you and Wednesday by the desk. You looked down at yourself, you weren't Larissa. You looked like a, boy? "I never made it to the station, heard enough?" Wednesday said, eyes switching from the read head to you. The read head, who you suspected to be Marilyn, turned around to look at you as well. Her face dropped as you felt yourself getting taller. You looked down at your body, jacket and jeans turning to a matching dress and coat set. You were, shifting? You weren't a boy anymore, now you were sure you were Larissa. "Your slave is probably still at the station" Wednesday chirped. "Please don't make this more difficult than it already is, Marilyn" your voice, well Larissa's, sounded with regret. You felt sad, betrayed, like you just lost a friend. Like you failed at bringing the outcasts and normies together, you were stupid for letting a normie in the school, an idiot for not seeing the danger. "My name is LAUREL" the red head belted before bringing a needle to your neck. You had no time to run, you felt a sting, and then you couldn't move. You fell to the floor, you couldn't breathe very good all of the sudden. You could feel your heart beat fast, vision going blurry, and you were gasping for air. Your mouth started foaming, and the last thing you saw was Wednesday over you, calling your name. When you looked up at Wednesday, all you could think about was her mother. How you two had drifted apart, how you two fought, how you loved. You spent most of your life with no partner, no friends, just taking care of the school, and recently taking care of Wednesday. You didn’t regret it, of course, but you still had so much more to do. You were scared, then everything went black.

You opened your eyes gasping for air, heart pounding. You realized you were in your hotel room, Larissa was beside you holding your shoulders steady, staring at you in concern. She didn't want you to be burdened by her memory, she just wanted to get rid of it. The thing about taking memories or knowledge from a person is that by taking it from them, you got it. The memory  had to go somewhere, right? Of course, they aren't your memories, so it wasn't as traumatizing for you to see them. You looked at her, your eyes watering, you tried to blink the tears away. You didn’t believe she lived through that. Marilyn had stabbed her in the neck with nightshade?! What the hell! You were glad she was dead, you would've killed her yourself. Larissa noticed you were crying and pulled you into her arms. You cried into her shoulder for a minute, then took her face in your hands when you cooled off. You were so shaken that you spoke unevenly, you couldn't even talk loud. "I'm so sorry Larissa, I didn't know. I'll consider erasing it for you." She pulled you against her again as a tear fell down her face. "I'm sorry too little one, I didn't know how much that would hurt you." In truth, it hurt you so much because you cared about Larissa. Some peoples memories weren't that bad because you knew they weren't yours, but hers, hers felt real. You connected with her so easily, and you wanted to help her. You pulled away, "Wait, you're a shapeshifter?" She let out a quiet breathy laugh. "Yes, I suppose you learned two things about me tonight, please don't say anything though, not many people know." You nodded, you wouldn't tell her secret. "Can we lay together?" you muttered, praying that she would say yes. "Of course love." You both laid in her bed, you felt way better being in her arms. You were so glad that she didn't die, but how did she survive? You wanted to ask her more questions and say that you were glad she was alive, but you didn't. "That's so cool" you mumbled, turning to face her. "What is?" she questioned, eyes meeting yours. "Being a shapeshifter. What can you shift into? People? Animals? Does it feel like anything when you really do it?" She smiled, stroking your hair, "I can shift into people. And no, it doesn't feel like much." You looked in her eyes, she was still adorning her makeup, and her lips were still painted red. Her eyes were so bright and daunting, her lips looked so soft, her skin so smooth, the little creases in her mouth and eyebrows were so cute. Uh oh, you thought. Turning back over, you took her hand and put it to your chest, then you closed your eyes. You felt her pull you closer, a soft "Goodnight Peyton" was the last thing you heard.

Link to Pt 3

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 3)

We finish our breakfast and help to clean up, and then Claire and I leave to check our bags into our hostel. It’s not far away, just a few streets over but even by the time the sun has fully risen and the early morning fog has dissipated it remains bitterly cold. We leave our things on our beds, two singles in a private room, and I quickly put on another layer under my jumper. My mother, who was, to my chagrin, right once again, insisted that I bring thermals with me. I’m thankful for them now as I roll the warm jersey over my body and feel my skin tingle with heat. 

Feeling more adequately prepared, Claire and I take the train into the centre of the city and wander around taking in the sights. “It really is quite nice, in a harsh sort of way.” She comments. “It’s weird that there’s that sort of mixture of really old buildings and then new ones, all butted up against each other.” We stand looking at the Brandenburg gate for a while, take some photographs of each other and then walk through an enormous public park with bare trees that I can imagine would be full and bursting with beautiful colour in the summertime. There are other people milling about a bit, pushing buggies and walking dogs, but on the whole it feels empty compared to the photographs I’ve seen on Jude’s Instagram page where he and his friends sat on crowded lawns, drinking beers, or swimming in the lakes. Despite the bleakness of the season, I still find it easy to imagine the life a person might enjoy in a place like this. 

We find a great Chinese restaurant for lunch, where the waiter flirts outrageously with Claire while pretending I’m not there, but the food is delicious, and afterwards we throw ourselves elbow deep in thrift shop bins, pulling out anything and everything that looks remotely mid-century. I find a pair of lavender flares and a ruched lilac top and buy them for a combined cost of six euros, while Claire settles on a black polo neck top and a white mini skirt. Later on she scores big with a pair of white knee height boots.  

“Are you having fun?” I ask her while we drink coffee in an Irish pub near the Checkpoint Charlie, our bags crowded around our feet, and she tells me that it’s nice to get away from it all for a while. I nod, knowing just what she means. 

When the evening folds in and the sun gives way to a moonless sky, we hop on the U Bahn back to Neukolln. The streets have burst into life now with music that streams out from the clubs and the bars. Jude buzzes us into his apartment and we trudge up the seven stories on legs weary from walking, but seeing his face on the other side of the door makes me feel like life is slowly pouring back into my bones. 

“Welcome back.” he says to us, and he has a swipe of dried plaster on his cheek that I itch to wipe away for him. He looks as tired as I feel, but even so he’s in the middle of cooking yakisoba noodles for us, and the small apartment is filled with the aroma of soy sauce and shiitake mushrooms. He has a bottle of sake open on the counter, and pours a glass for each of us. 

“Wow, you wouldn’t get this at the Ritz.” I settle onto a bar stool at the counter to watch him cook as Claire heads to freshen up in the bathroom. “How was your day?”

“Busy, as usual. It’s been just kind of crazy lately, what with everything, deadlines and whatnot… Like I’m not really in the headspace to be all that creative, which isn’t ideal because I’ll need to have my final project ready for the exhibit, well, soon. Very soon.”

“I know how it is.” I muse. “Something about the period between Christmas and summer always feels so manic. I feel as though you blink and it’s passed you by.”

“Exactly.” He grabs a bottle of mirin and splashes a glug onto the sizzling pan. “But I hope your work is going well. Seems like you’ve been pretty much killing it with the illustrations and the murals.”

“Yeah, my Valentine’s Day cards sold really well.” I boast. “Right now I’m working on some for Father’s day.”

“Ah, an important day.”

“Right.” I say, knowing that we both have relatively useless fathers. I glance around me to take in the room, with lamps lit and casting warm light over the furniture. There are candles lighting too, dotted around on various shelves and tables, and a shiver of something, maybe appreciation, or comfort, ripples through me. “It’s so nice to be here.”

“I know, it’s actually so rare that one of us is in the other’s space like this, isn’t it?” A pause. “Except for the last time I saw you, obviously, and I bled all over your kitchen table, which we can strike from the record.”

I chuckle. “I think it counts. It was pretty fun, even with all of the blood.”

“Did you ever get that t-shirt cleaned?”

“Oh god, no. It was destroyed, but don’t worry, I chucked it into the bin.”

“Glad to know you haven’t been wearing it around the place.”

“How’s your eyebrow now, by the way?”

He turns to grin at me. “Scarred.”

“Oh, no way.” I say, and he comes to lean on the counter so that we’re eye to eye and I can see it,  the skin shiny and pink, and it slices right through his eyebrow, forging a gap in its wake. “Wow.” I say “I can’t lie, it’s a bit iconic.” 

“Sexy, right?” He says proudly, and his eyes do a quick tour of my features. He gently takes his lower lip into his mouth, like he’s thinking about saying something else, but then Jonas makes a loud entrance and throws open the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. “Hello again, Evie Kilbride.” He says loudly. “I’ve heard that you will be choosing the movie tonight”

“Am I?” I say. “I suppose that I can, if you like.”

“Yes.” He says. “I just have the feeling that you have the very best taste in everything. It’s all in your hands.”

After dinner, the four of us settle around the television and watch Black Swan. It’s late now, and we are tired, and nobody says a single word, no questions, no comments. When Jude shifts positions next to me and accidentally presses his thigh against mine I wait for him to move it, but he doesn’t. In the dark of this room, where the only light is the glow from the television screen, I risk a glance at his face, and he looks right back at me, saying nothing. But I swear there’s something in his eyes, because at that moment they seem to glitter even brighter than the city lights outside the window.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[exhaustedcatte]

Grimmauld Place

“Yes, yes,” Draco huffed. “Tell Kathleen to ask Robbards instead, I’m only a mere banker, he’s the auror!”

Draco put the receiver down with force, fuming at the audacity of some clients. Even after cleaning up his act, absolutely spotless might he add, some people still found ways to poke through his defences.

Their newest target was Harry Potter, or also known as Draco’s fiancé.

Gringgotts had kindly offered him a spot fresh out of school, after Draco had submitted a letter of referral from both the Headmistress and Arithmancy professor of Hogwarts. It helped that he had vast knowledge about the kind of money that was sent here for safekeeping.

It was only a couple months in that Harry had turned up at his office, with a huge sum left behind by a certain Sirius Black. One thing led to another and Draco promised him a coffee. Now, almost eight years later, Draco was going to be promising him the rest of his life.

“Alright Malfoy,” Pillai strode into his cabin, closing the door behind her with her pencil heel. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to run away,” Draco dropped his head on the table, groaning.

“I bet. Well, your little hunk is out there being sniffed by Skeeter’s rats.”

When Draco lifted his forehead to see Malavika tuck her saree pallu into her skirt, she smiled sinisterly. “Go get your man.”

Draco pulled on his coat and let his glasses drop by the chain around his neck. A quick swipe of his wand and his messenger bag was packed up and ready to go.

“Be a dear for once and tell Cecily I’m clocking out early?” He kissed Malavika’s cheek, in an attempt to disarm her while being sincere with his love.

“I’m always a dear,” she said heatedly to his retreating back, obviously flustered, still unused to being subjected to physical affection.

Harry Potter, as it turned out, had a few tricks up his sleeve. He’d finally learnt to sneak out of the paws of those terrible paps, who still to this day stalked him. It obviously didn’t help that Draco was involved. It made Harry Potter more of a spectacle than ever.

When Draco walked past the camera flashlights unnoticed, he heard a whisper behind his ear-shell telling him to keep going and to take the fire escape out the building. Draco heeded the advice obediently, thrilled at the turn of events.

He felt around him for a solid body after they’d safely exited the lobby and stumbled into the stairwell. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off to wrap Draco in a hug.

“They were about to raise hell out here and I knew you’d get nasty if they did,” he explained cheekily, mouthing at Draco’s earlobe.

“Damn right,” he murmured, hands settling on the Professor’s waist.

It was still a little disorienting how well they knew each other – Draco was self-aware, it was obvious they’d kept some rather strong tabs on each other but he’d never imagined a reality where’s they’d use the information they’d gleaned for loveable motives.

It made his heart beat loud in his temple, as if a prayer he had memorised.

“So,” Harry continued, “I snuck into the washroom and hid in my cloak. Then stood behind those godawful gnome statues till I heard Pillai shove you out.”

“Good job, Potter, colour me impressed,” Draco nodded, feeling delighted at the steady rise of red up Harry’s throat at the compliment.

“Why did you come anyway?”

“Oh, right! Hermione mentioned there’s a nice thrift store a few blocks from here so I thought we could go look at furniture.”

Harry had disposed most of Grimmauld Place’s rotten furniture. The wood had begun to splinter off, nails popping into the cushions of the chairs, wallpaper peeling away. The whole scene.

Draco, when he had come around, had donated (given as a placeholder in place of– well, himself) his own things from the Manor. Beautiful pieces he couldn’t part with. He never imagined Harry would want to do away with those as well.

“Furniture?”

“Ah, well,” Harry cleared his throat. He sounded much more nervous now.

Draco squeezed his hand, a silent hey, it’s okay.

“Right, um. Since we’re getting married and all,” Harry said quickly, “I thought we could get some new things for around the house. Like a new chapter? Something to start afresh? Just a few things here and there to add on to your collection…”

Harry Potter was a child who was always given hand-me-downs. Very rarely did he use his money to get something for himself either. Draco wanted to smack himself in the head. To think he wanted to build something with Draco? Of course he would agree.

“Lead the way, Potter,” Draco smiled, sweet, all teeth showing.

Obviously relieved, his fiancé whisked him away in a blur of magic to the furniture store.

An adequately well-curated collection stood pristine in the small building. Draco let go of Harry to let him shop while he did some browsing.

Draco, who had been an absolute wizard at Charms (hah! wizard), had picked up a few fun tricks while squatting around in the library, the one place Harry Potter hated entering, searching for ways to one-up the Gryffindor.

In his search, he found a rather curious spell – one that allowed him to see whose belongings were what, to see who last used it and such.

Draco cast the spell on a hat-pin first.

Owner – Candace Higgins. Last Used – Jemma Jones.

Maybe they were mother and daughter or sisters or best friends. Or maybe they were unrelated.

He looked behind, but Harry was in the other end of the room, near the beds, talking to a salesman about prices and such.

Draco picked up a hand-mirror.

Owner – Lucia Phyllis. Last Used – Felipa Phyllis.

It was definitely a collectible, maybe an heirloom. Gold gilded and shiny. He put it back down reverently. Lucia had good taste, whoever she was.

Feeling a bit bold, Draco spelled a bookcase.

Owner – Gideon Bones. Last Used – Susan Bones.

Draco jumped back at the familiar name.

“Excuse me, sir? How far back do these pieces date?”

The salesman looked around the room. “Well, we have some pretty vintage things here – some that we don’t use anymore. We have stuff from the 80s and then more recent things from few years to a few months ago.”

“I see,” Draco said. Harry furrowed his brow in question but Draco smiled to reassure him.

He then began spelling away. Flatware, silk bedclothes (which okay, kind of ew), tables, stools, hats and scarves. All the sort.

Harry Potter was still shuffling around looking at stuff like vases and ink pots. Poor thing had no idea where to begin. But Draco wanted Harry to pick something out for himself by himself, like a present.

But then.

He saw a pair of identical slipper-chairs, a velveteen red, and decided that would go well with the green rug in the salon.

Spell.

Owner – James Potter and Lily Potter. Last Used – Harry Potter.

Draco stopped in his tracks suddenly like he was hit by a Colloshoo.

There was no way. Absolutely one in a million chance.

He spelled it again. Once, twice, thrice, four tim–

“Malfoy,” Harry hissed. “Don’t be spelling things in front of muggles!”

“Harry,” he said, dazed. “Tell me what you see, okay?”

He cast the charm again.

Once again, gooey letters formed over the two soft chairs.

“What the fuck?” Harry muttered. “What?”

“It’s a spell that tells you the owner and the person who had it last. Um.” Draco’s throat felt sticky.

Harry reached over to smooth the fabric. “This is? Mine? My parents’?”

Draco nodded dumbly. “Seems so. Isn’t that lovely?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. But how?”

“I’m guessing someone donated it after…”

Harry ducked his head mutely, overcome by emotion. Draco pet his hair, trying to offer comfort.

“Hello? Good sir, we’d like to buy these here, please!”

The salesman, or owner, by the looks of it, he was the only one in here anyway, ambled to where they were stood. “The chairs? I’m afraid it’s been booked.”

Harry wilted under Draco’s palm. Like flowers drooping under the harsh sun.

“I can pay you double. Please. This belongs to him.” And as a last ditch attempt, “It’s a family heirloom.”

The man raised his eyebrows below his thick hair, finding the heirloom thing ridiculous. But he only replied with, “How can you prove it?”

Harry stood up and put a restraining hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“No no,” Draco frowned. “Listen, sir? Douglas?” he read the name-tag. “We can pay full amount right now. Please?” Draco wasn’t one to beg or plead, but he would grovel for Harry Potter if he had to.

The man shrugged. “Sorry, can’t do nothin’, well, unless the other guys don’t turn up for payment.”

Draco stood away, eyeing the chairs while Harry booked something for the house. He’d already known what he’d wanted apparently.

“Home?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “Home.”

Draco remained patient till dinner, trying not to pry, but then again, he couldn’t let Harry drown in his head. When they sat down on their leather chesterfield with a glass of red, Draco decided to open the can of worms.

“Potter? Are you alright?”

Harry looked at him for a minute over the rim of his glass while downing his wine. Draco sat nervously still, not backing down.

“Thank you,” he said finally, after polishing it off, shy.

Draco felt his heart melt. “Oh, Harry. Oh, sweetheart.” He set his glass down, and tugged Harry closer.

“No, really, thank you so much.”

Draco blushed. “I didn’t even do anything. We didn’t get the chairs,” he pointed out uselessly.

Harry shook his head, wayward curls flying with his movements. “You tried.”

Then, reminded by the failure of the chair situation he sighed, dejected. Draco hated seeing Harry like that, like an abandoned pup on the curb-side on a rainy day inside a soggy cardboard box.

“Hey, I’m sure if I dig around I’ll find a charm that can play memories from objects, you do own some old things of theirs, right?”

Harry, who was absolute pants at Charms, perked up at that. “You’d do that for me?”

“I would burn the world to keep you warm, Harry Potter,” Draco said seriously, but still laughingly.

He finally cracked a smile.

“Thanks Malfoy.”

“Stop thanking me, I’m not God –although I could be.”

“No,” Harry agreed, smile lines crinkling the skin around his eyes. “You’re too disgusting, too potty-mouthed for that.”

“Pot calling kettle,” Draco sniffed. “I might even venture to say you seem to quite enjoy it.”

“You might have to remind me,” Harry blinked slowly, eyes turning into liquid fire. Draco loved when Harry got like this – all coy and blithe.

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” he inched closer. “Bought us a new bedframe.”

“Oh.”

“Want to test its quality?”

“You’re so on.”

Three weeks later, on Christmas day, after Draco kissed Harry pink for the novelty glass chess-kit, Harry opened Draco’s present. His very enormous and neatly wrapped gift.

Two red slipper chairs which read James, Lily and Harry Potter when spelled.

Draco saw Harry’s lashes lower over his eyes, in an attempt to blink his tears away. Draco let him.

“How?” his voice was tight, strained with emotion.

“Went back to the store,” Draco grinned proudly. “They put it on sale again because it wasn’t paid for, only marked by a couple who never turned up even after a month. So I snatched it up. Scourgified it and well, here it is!”

Harry fisted Draco’s emerald green Weasley sweater in his hands and kissed him roughly, but still sweet, still kind, still grateful.

“Thank you, Draco.”

“Think it’ll read Last Used by Harry and Draco Potter someday?” He asked with a smile, looking at the red chairs.

Harry squeezed his hand. “Stick around and find out for yourself.”

[littlemoriflower]

hii im new to mori kei and havent had much luck thrifting atm, do you have any keyword or search ideas to use when looking for skirts? im struggling to find one but i might just be picky .. thank you if you decide to answer 🍀

Heya there, dear! I hope you are having a wonderful day! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

For starters, I am so glad you are trying mori kei out! I welcome you to the community with open arms, and hope you find joy and happiness in mori ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Now, shopping online for mori can be tricky, because all you want to do is search up "mori kei" or "mori girl" and hope for the clothes to magically show up in front of you. ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

However, soon you'll see very few people know of the style, let alone tag it, so here's some easy keywords you can use instead:

• Lace/Linen/Cotton/Denim skirt

-> Not all skirts used in mori need to be super convoluted! You can have some basics (and I urge you to do so) that you can use underneath other pieces to create that classic layered look. The fabrics I listed above are the most common in mori, but you can also find corduroy skirts, for example, that would work wonderfully with mori as well!

• Striped/Polka dot/Gingham/Plaid/Scandinavian skirt

-> The patterns I listed above are some of the most common to find in mori kei outfits. But remember: you are not limited to these patterns. Anything with "natural motifs" like animals, flowers, leaves, trees, etc can be and would fit wonderfully with mori! Like I always say, this part always boils down to personal taste, at the end of the day! (*^▽^*)

• Tiered/Layered/Patch work skirt

-> Sure fire way to find those cute, multi layered skirts with a bunch of different fabric and patterns on them! These skirts are usually "statement pieces", which means they are often used as an outside layer. Of course you can layer something else on top of them, like a dress or a tunic, but hiding these often beautiful skirts is a disservice to them. You could use a base cotton skirt underneath this one to create a more fluffy, layered look if so desired, for example!

• Boho skirt

-> This also works wonders if you are trying to find that lacey, often layered look for skirts. The boho style had a big boom some years ago, so there's a lot of variety not only for skirts, but for dresses, tops or tunics!

• Cottagecore/fairycore skirt

-> I know, I know. How dare I mention the Big Bads™, but truth is that mori gets often pilled up with these, and to those who don't really understand the fashion, they will tag these two bad boys in a very cute skirt you wouldn't find otherwise have you not used the tags.

I hope this little list helps you in whatever way possible, and if it didn't I hope I am able to help you even further if you wish! (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ

But before I go...

Gentle reminder: Don't expect perfection in the beginning. The initial stage of slowly building up your wardrobe might be a little awkward, but the more you put outfits together, the less you'll want to take them off. (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[cowgirlgazette]

a definitive guide to mastering the sex and the city aesthetic

PART 1!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

part one: disclaimer

sex and the city has to be one of the most absurd shows when it comes to realism, and i watched friends. four beautiful young women, single, with impeccable style and a seemingly endless amount of money parading around town all day as if they're unemployed. and yet, they are employed! all of them! i think that's the part that i find hardest to believe. nobody has enough time to do what they do, but, hey, that's the beauty of television. so, this is a disclaimer. while you can master the satc mindset and act, look, and feel (more or less) like carrie bradshaw, there's gonna be some disconnect.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

part two: style

now, i started watching satc pretty recently, but i know that what i heard most when bringing this show up for discussion was FASHION, FASHION, FASHION! this is definitely a huuuuuuge part of mastering the aesthetic, in my humble opinion. a key aspect of the carrie bradshaw effect is her incredible stylistic choices and her ability to pull them off (despite some obnoxious patterns). so, here's my two cents on how to feel like you're in the show--- through fashion!

.ᐟ

for one, they seem to wear a lot of tight fitting clothes. i don't see a lot of baggy jeans (or really jeans in general), or pants or even baggy tops. carrie, for example, wears a lot of tight-fitting tank tops, usually bra-less. they're usually paired with maxi skirts or shorts or something of the sort. what really struck me about their fashion choices was that they made sense. this might be an unpopular opinion, but i'll expand on it anyway. though the characters do explore with some strange clothing and pattern combinations, the types of clothes that they're wearing make sense for the activity they're doing. well, except for carrie wearing heels to walk around the busy streets of manhattan. but, for example, within the scenes that they're at the gym, doing pilates, running, or doing any other form of exercise, they're wearing that common 90's look that i saw a lot of in friends. this means tight tank tops and athletic shorts or sweats. pair that with a pair of old-school looking headphones (wired headphones, which are a staple of a lot of my outfits!), and you've got your workout outfit. to find clothes id probably go for a thrift or antique store (do they even sell clothes there?). as for more popular stores, i'd stay away from places like forever 21 and h&m unless you're looking for basics, because their clothes are gonna be stagnant in the TRENDY area. overall, just look at pinterest and curate a board that inspires your clothing taste. individuality is a huge part of the girls style. but, the main idea im trying to get across here is stay close to simple clothes, stay away from fleeting trends, and find pieces or patterns that call out to you!

if you really want to stay true to the show, look up common 90's trends. staple pieces i would recommend are:

dainty, classic rings

sustainable jewelry that doesn't turn your skin green. invest in your jewelry! (bracelets, simple necklaces, earrings)

basic clothing pieces without patterns (tank tops, graphic tee's, tube tops--- carrie is very fond of strapless shirts and dresses!)

dresses, simple and ones with patterns. stay away from fast fashion, invest in clothing that lasts!

maxi skirts!!!!!

shorts. shorts are good. jean shorts, athletic shorts, comfortable shorts, all of it! theres all sorts to fit whatever occasion.

buttons ups are perfect if you need a thin, fashionable jacket or an oversized shirt. they come in all sorts of stripes and patterns to fit your mood.

a few different pairs of sunglasses in different shapes

for charlotte lovers--- glasses with thick, black, circular rims. if you don't need prescription glasses, look into blue light glasses or glasses intended for fashion specifically. also pearl earrings!

heels, heels, heels! who cares what people are wearing now-a-days? I'm frankly tired of cute outfits paired with converse or air forces.

invest in a few "going out outfits". this means glittery dresses, short skirts, small, tight tops, and extravagant jewelry.

it's also important to remember that they look good in a lot of their outfits because they're VERY skinny. and very fit.

it's equally important to remember that they had a lot of money (somehow), and were spending it on expensive clothing from high-end stores. that's not to say that you cant replicate it under a tighter budget!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

part three: attitude

if i can get ONE idea across through this entire post, it's that attitude and mindset is the most important part of mastering any aesthetic. have you ever watched a show, and right after you feel like you're living in it? you act, move, talk, and think like the characters? yeah, that's because we mock what we see! so, see it! master that mindset! the best and easiest thing you can do to feel like you're a character in the show is to WATCH THE SHOW. take note of their actions and how they handle themselves. their mindsets, all of it. it's all key to acting and feeling like the characters you wanna be. if you wanna be like charlotte, focus on her. if you wanna be like carrie (maybe don't be exactly like carrie), watch how she handles herself. once again, i'll stress my love for pinterest. create BOARDS! create physical vision boards or collages or journals if you're more into working with your hands and having a physical product. cultivate the kind of person you want to be, there's about a million different images and thoughts that you can take for yourself out there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

that's all for the first part, cause i feel like i've just talked about nothing for the entirety of this post.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Our Glorious Spring: Jeff Buckley

Andria Lisle, Oxford American, Summer 2000

THERE IS A PICTURE, taken early in May 1997, at Ellen’s Soul Food Restaurant in Memphis. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and we’ve just arrived from a harrowing 3-hour service at Al Green’s church. Jeff is wearing a "Sweet’s Trailer Hitch" thrift store T-shirt, his dress shirt discarded.

His suspenders frame the "Sweet’s" logo nicely; sadly, his belt is not visible from the angle of the photograph. He’s leaning back in the booth, one hand wrapped possessively around his iced tea glass. His delicate face and pouty lips are striking, yet nothing about his demeanor suggests that this young man was once nominated one of People magazine’s "50 Most Beautiful."

Following Jeff’s gaze, to his left, sits a girl – me. I am also dressed for church, in a silk blouse and skirt, my hair pulled back and pinned up. My bangs are crooked. I am making a face – clenched teeth, lips pulled back menacingly – the type my mother warned "would freeze that way." Over our shoulders, a man at the next booth smiles, perfectly centered in the frame. A picture of Martin Luther King hangs behind him.

All movement is arrested – frozen. But Jeff’s face comes alive every time I look at this picture, which is often. His eyes look alternately bemused and alarmed at my moon face. The real action is taking place beneath the table, out of sight of the photographer. Jeff is swinging his legs sideways, kicking me, prompting these faces. Kick – smile. Kick – grimace. Kick – smile. Kick – grimace, and my friend Lely captures the moment with a click of her camera.

Earlier that morning, Jeff wasn’t ready when we went to pick him up. He was talking to his aunt on the telephone, and painting his toenails green. He looked great in his pinstriped suit, but I noticed that his fly was undone. I said, "Jeff, zip your pants up." He shot me a pained expression – so uncool – zipped his pants, locked the door, and hopped off the porch. I introduced him to Lely and Alec, friends from DC, and we were off.

Most of the time I spent with Jeff was like that photograph. Funny, jesting. Our introduction, that February, involved spontaneous karate kicking. Another night, I took him to a gig in Oxford, Mississippi where a group of Ole Miss sorority girls invited him to their house for a party. The band that followed Jeff, Big Sandy and the Fly-Rite Boys, opened their set with the song 'Loser’s Waltz'. Jeff turned to me and asked "Shall we dance, Madam?" Then he purposefully fell off his barstool, like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. He hit the ground and bounced back up. By the time we waltzed around the room, the girls, horrified, were gone.

Down here, Jeff could definitely be himself, or be whichever self he wanted to be. Memphis is easy and comfortable and I don’t think people were too concerned about him. It’s also a very easy town to live in without too much money – much cheaper than New York, so I think he thought he could be here without bothering anybody, just sit at home and record. Jeff didn’t have many needs while he was here. He’d lie in the yard in the weeds – he never mowed his yard so when he lay outside you couldn’t even tell he was there. He would hide like that for days.

He was such a sweet baby. And it was funny because my roommate and I started listening to his music in earnest. I was often embarrassed because he’d be knocking on the door while Grace was blasting on the stereo. I never talked to Jeff about his music or asked him about it. It never came up. I do wish I had told him how much I liked it – but the topic was unbroachable. Even though I worked in a record store I knew nothing about Jeff’s history. I knew who his father was, that’s about it. Sometimes I would go out and hear other people talk about him in a completely different vein. Like, "Oh, I heard Jeff Buckley’s going to be at this bar tonight," which was weird, because he was somebody who walked my dog with me.

The whole time that we were friends, I was careful not to count on him because I knew that he would eventually leave – it seems that I am always friends with people who are in transit. Our relationship was completely platonic, but I was afraid of falling in love too much. Just the way he would look at me made me feel on top of the world. He made me so happy and we had so much fun. Despite that, I would give anything not to know him and have him be alive.

Jeff was always an actor. The last week he was here, I was walking down Madison Avenue and spotted him coming out of a Mexican restaurant. When Jeff saw me he started prancing like a fairy down the street towards me. I said, "Jeff, someone’s gonna pull over in a pickup truck and kill you – just like the end of Easy Rider, they’re gonna shoot you off your bike." He thought that was hilarious. I felt awful because I warned him about everything except the river.

The night Jeff drowned, I had gone to the casino with some friends. He and I had talked about going down there for free drinks. We discussed it, but that particular night his band was flying in from New York for a recording session. I walked my dog over to Jeff’s before I left. Keith Foti was there, and Gene Bowen, Jeff’s road manager. We decided that Jeff would stay home and I would go to the casinos. Then when I got back I would come tell him how much I won.

At about 12:30 AM, I walked my dog over with a gambling report. After a knock on the door, I was asked "Who’s there?" I was told to go away. I was perturbed, thinking – uggh... musicians. I just thought they were having a discussion. I didn’t think another thing of it and I went home and went to sleep, then to work the next day. My boss asked me if I was with Jeff the night before and I said yeah and he said no you weren’t and I said yeah and he asked again and at that point the telephone rang and it was a reporter from the newspaper wanting a comment about Jeff’s death.

I was so naïve about Jeff. I wanted to protect him. Looking over my journal entries, I can count on my fingers and toes the number of times we hung out. It was a brief period of time – three months. At Jeff’s memorial, Elvis Costello sat in front of me and Marianne Faithfull performed. And I was in shock, thinking no, this wasn’t the Jeff that lived down the street. This wasn’t the kid who rode a bicycle because he couldn’t afford a car.

To paraphrase something Robert Gordon once told me, I didn’t know Jeff Buckley – I knew a Jeff Buckley. I can lay no claim to his life, or his art, or his happiness. But I will never forget the glorious spring of 1997. There is a photo of us, and we are happy. We are two shining stars stuffed with fried chicken and collard greens. We are alive, and we are happy.

© Andria Lisle, 2000

[fastwiemagie]

Let's go thrifting together!!

My local thrift store(s) had a special countdown action going on during the last two weeks. Marked items started at 8€ and counted down to 2€ on the last day.

I already went there on the first day of this special action and got an amazing patchwork jacket, a dark green velvet jacket (which I gave to my mum because it fit her without alterations and she loved it aswell) and a dark blue shirt that's very cute and which I already wore to work!

Today was the last day and I scored big!! Found five items reduced down to 2€ (and 3 others for still very inexpensive, which weren't part of the deal but still too gorgeous to leave behind!!)

Upsizing candidates are the two jackets/blazers and the trachten wool skirt. The skirt was just too cute to leave behind and made from wool! Sounds perfect for the colder season!

By the way, I also got groceries while I was out (because food is life) and that's why I had to lug so many bags home! Good thing I filled my little backpack up with totes before I left on my treasure hunt.

Oh!! And the berry coloured/silver striped scarf is thrifted aswell! From the same store too :)

[id]Pic 1 & 10: A full body shot of a fat, white woman with long brown hair which she's wearing in one big braid. She's got glasses on and looking toward the camera/viewer. From her clothes you can see it was kinda cold on that day: she's wearing black pants with pink-and-white flowers on them (and green leaves), black shoes, a berry-coloured long-sleeved top with flocked dots on it, a black knit jacket/cardigan and a darker berry-coloured cloth scarf with silver stripes. She's also wearing pink felt flower earrings with yellow flower insides! It's a cheerful look, contrasted with the black. The woman is holding a dusty-pink and a second green net bag filled with freshly thrifted clothes! The two poses are different, otherwise the two pictures are pretty similar.

Pic 2 & 9 are detail shots of the clothes she'd manage to thrift

2: net bags with thrifted clothes on the ground, next to bags filled with groceries

3: all the thrifted clothes spread out on top of a bed

4: the lower half of a dark blue knit cardigan and patchwork hearts sewn on a black wool skirt

5: a longsleeved top with a layered look: it looks like a patterned top with a purple cardigan over it

6: showing the pretty sleeves of a black velvet bolero jacket, the purple top of pic 5 can be seen in the background

7: a pink blazer/jacket with the dusty colour of raspberries, it has beautiful cotton lace details along it's edges (the collar, pocket, etc)

8: a light blue long-sleeved cardigan with a pretty gathered detail at the bust

9: The pocket of the raspberry coloured blazer is shown again! Because it's such a pretty piece!

[/id]

[sunnie-angel]

SUNNIE HI i love you!! vanilla bean, honeymoon and lace for the selfship game?

ro!!!!! i love you more 💕

vanilla bean ౨ৎ what does a day off with your lover look like?

i think our days off are slow, affectionate things. sleeping in late, no alarm clocks for once. lazy kisses in bed turning into something more but equally languorous. making breakfast in the kitchen together and feeding each other bites off of our plates. heading to the farmers market hand in hand. jason ends up carrying all of our produce while i pick out flowers for the kitchen. we have dinner at a friend’s house and promise to host the next time. coming back home and collapsing into each other. his head on my lap while he reads and i knit (it’ll be a scarf for him but he doesn’t know it yet).

honeymoon ౨ৎ where did the two of you travel to for your honeymoon? and how was it?

hmmm i don’t have a specific country in mind, but i think somewhere in scandinavia in the summer would be lovely. a cottage a few miles from a town where no one knows us. staying up to see the midnight sun together curled up tight. picking cloudberries and gooseberries as they come into season and finding glacial lakes to swim in.

lace ౨ৎ what’s their favorite outfit of yours?

knee high black boots, black and grey plaid mini skirt, soft white sweater, and this beautiful purple leather jacket i thrifted. too many silver accessories.

[glowingvenus]

beka and i went to donate blood the other day! it's been too long. i like doing it, and the guy even gave me purple tape for my arm afterward, lol. they have good snacks too. lorna doones are underrated.

starting to think about my wedding dress. the wedding isn't until april but there's gonna be a lot to think about. i wanted to go the thrift route but i do have a dream dress and it'll probably be hard to find a similar one on the secondhand market. what i really want is an off the shoulder short sleeved dress, in white (or something similar) with a high-low skirt. i just think that will look so princessish and beautiful. for the ceremony i'll probably wear my hair up, and for the reception (a week later) i'm thinking of dyeing the underside of my hair purple and wearing it in braids with flowers. teehee

i'm so happy i get to think about this stuff!