#Or rainbow knit small top with tight jeans

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

ty Chappel Roan for releaseing my kink is karma in time for me to have it on loop as I calculate which of my jeans and miniskirts make my ass and legs look best for pride because the piece of shit thats been trying to get on my pants for four years who has just got double dumped and is still not over me is attending all on his miserable lonesome.

Ngl I was planning to dress casually but fuck him, I'm gonna dress how the fuck I want and he can cry in a ditch<3 my life's starting again and I'm gonna fucking live it!

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Megan glanced up at the neon sign that read "The Vault" as she adjusted her blouse nervously. The job ad hadn’t mentioned much—just that they needed someone with a little bartending experience who could start immediately. Megan had been desperate, in between gigs and struggling to make ends meet, so she jumped at the chance. Only now, standing outside the bustling gay bar, she felt her stomach churn. She hadn’t realized it was this kind of place.

She pushed the door open and was immediately met with thumping music and a rainbow of colored lights bouncing off the walls. Patrons filled the bar, laughing, talking, and occasionally dancing. Behind the counter, two burly bartenders were pouring drinks with practiced ease.

A man with a neatly trimmed beard and a confident smile waved her over. “You must be Megan! I’m Derek, the manager.” He gave her a welcoming grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you comfortable in no time. It’s a fun place, I promise.”

Megan smiled, trying to hide her nerves. “Yeah, it’s... lively.”

“Don’t sweat it. We’re super flexible. If you need anything, just let us know. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Derek handed her an apron, and she quickly tied it around her waist. She was given a quick tour, shown where the stock was, and introduced to some of the regulars.

As the night went on, Megan began to get the hang of things. The patrons were friendly, and she quickly realized that the atmosphere was less intimidating and more like a tight-knit family. She served drinks, made small talk, and even joined in on the occasional joke.

But something felt off. Megan noticed that her sleeves seemed tighter than before, and her blouse felt itchy against her skin. She brushed it off, chalking it up to nerves or maybe the heat from the packed bar. But as she poured drinks, her forearms seemed hairier than she remembered, the fine, dark hair thickening and spreading up to her elbows.

She tried to ignore it, explaining it away in her mind. Maybe it’s just the lighting... or I’m seeing things after a long shift. The night went on, and she continued to work, the strangeness of the bar starting to feel oddly familiar.

“Hey, Meg, mind grabbing another crate of beer from the back?” one of the bartenders asked. She nodded, heading into the dimly lit storeroom. As she bent down, a strange tightness ran through her legs, and she felt her jeans squeezing uncomfortably against her thighs. She pulled at the waistband, thinking they must’ve shrunk in the wash.

Returning to the bar, Megan caught her reflection in the mirrored shelves. Her face looked... different. Her jaw seemed broader, her cheeks rougher. She rubbed her chin absentmindedly, feeling the rough bristle of stubble that hadn’t been there before. Her reflection grinned back at her, looking every bit the part of a confident, rugged bartender. She blinked, confused, but the thought slipped away like a dream half-forgotten.

Derek came up and clapped her on the shoulder, laughing. “Looking good, Marcus! Always knew you were a natural behind the bar.”

Megan blinked, the name unfamiliar yet weirdly comforting. Marcus. That was right, wasn’t it? He glanced down at himself, noticing for the first time the solid bulk of his chest, the thick forest of hair that peeked out from his open shirt. His shirt, which had somehow transformed into a tight tank top that clung to his muscular frame. Marcus scratched absently at his beard, the sensation grounding him.

He flexed his arm playfully, winking at a customer who giggled in response. The movements felt natural, the flirtation like second nature. Yeah, I’m Marcus, he thought, remembering the cheers from earlier as he poured shots with flair, the way customers flocked to him, eager for his charm.

Reality had folded itself around him neatly, erasing any trace of Megan. The memories of being nervous and out of place were gone, replaced with confidence and the certainty that he belonged. Marcus grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a perfect shot, sliding it down the bar with a wink.

“Another round, boys?” Marcus asked, his voice deep and rough, rich with familiarity. He was the life of the party, the bartender everyone loved, and sometimes, when the music got really good, he’d hop up on the bar for a dance, his hairy chest glistening under the lights.

And by the end of the night, as the last patrons stumbled out and the lights dimmed, Marcus cleaned up behind the bar, content and at home. He never questioned how he got there; he’d always been part of The Vault, always been Marcus—the flirt, the heart of the place, and one of its best draws. The life he once knew was just a distant whisper, lost in the beat of the music and the clink of glasses.

[melissakayboutique]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Generation Love Kaylee tie top in cloud print size small.

[merchantofwhispers]

lokatattur​:

“I certainly try to be,” Loki responded while giving her a single nod. Although dressed in a suit as was the norm for him when visiting Midgard, the suit he wore was not just a simple flat black. When struck by light at certain angles, the fabric would reveal a dark rainbow of purples, blues, and greens. His tie, vest, and pants matched this same fabric. Loki’s dress shirt was the only contrast, being that it was as vivid in greenness as his one remaining eye. His other eye was covered by a black leather eye patch with the embossing of a tree in the center, its edges framed in embossed animal interlace.

Taking a moment to study the building, he commented, “It looks much bigger in person than what the photo implied.” His vision returned to her, taking notice of the way her eyes narrowed. He sidestepped around her in a fluid manner, bringing a hand up to point out the wall structure while also positioning himself to where they could still make eye contact and the sun would accost his friend less. “This has a different energy than most buildings. I normally cannot stay too long in the cities here. Their artificial structures disrupt my seidr. When was this place made? Do you know?”

Only as he stepped into the way of the sun did she manage to catch the smaller details of his appearance. A spare glance was given to the eyepatch, her brows knitting together briefly before widening her smile at an old friend. It seemed small talk was going to have to wait as she turned to look at the house. "Cinead had this built for me when I retired from the sea. The rocks are local, as is the cement. I don’t remember exactly, but he build it using what he’d learned as a young man before he was even vampiric.” Which was almost a thousand years prior. “Somewhere in the late 1800s, I believe. He’s continued to add onto it since. I think he’s planning a greenhouse soon, he keeps muttering about tempered glass.” 

As if summoned by the very mention of himself Cinead opened the front door and stepped out; his hands still working off water from the dishes he’d been doing. He -- much like Gemina -- was dressed down. A tank top that hung loosely off his muscled frame and a set of simple jeans. The only part of him that truly had any effort was his hair, long and straight with beaded braids that tied into the back of his head -- the smallest, oldest runes etched into the aging silver. 

“So yer’ Ryker.” He hummed while carefully descending the stone steps and walking out to stand next to Gemina, an inch or two taller than their visitor while towering over her himself. Wadding up his towel into one hand, he extended the other to Ryker with a tight lipped smile. “I’ve ‘eard a lo’ abou’ ya. Glad ya’ could make it.”

[stylesberries]

Masterlist

Last Updated: 07/07/21

Thank you guys so much for all the love that you’re giving my writings. It makes me so happy to know that they’re people who enjoy reading things I write. I will be definitely adding to this masterlist, so this is not all you’ll get from me ;) - Hamida

♥ - indicates fluff

✪ - indicates smut

☹ - indicates angst

Bundle Of Love ♥

Harry reflecting upon his love for Y/N.

Despite the fact that you’ve only been dating for a couple of months, he still knew you better than he knew himself. Every stir and every little sound you made in your sleep. To everyone before him they were just stirs and sounds, but for him they had a meaning. He never lets them slip without noticing. He watches your every move carefully to make sure that he makes you the happiest he possibly can and even if that is the case, he still does everything possible to make sure you’re even happier.

Call Me H ✪ ♥

You both walk straight to Harry’s hotel room because you can’t keep hands off of each other anymore. (Is a logical continuation to Stay With Me, but can be read separately.)

“You’re very sweet, Harry. There is just one problem.”

Your eyes become a bottomless well and Harry feels himself drowning in its waters. The curiosity grows in him when he hears mystery in the way the words leave your mouth.

“What problem?” He whispers innocently, his eyes darting at you.

“I really want to fuck you.”

City Lights ♥

Harry asks you a very important question as you drive through the streets of Rome.

The hand wrapped around your side, carefully going in circles, the repeating motions slowly soothing your anxiety.

Harry lowered his head and his lips touched the top of your ears. The warm breath created vibrations against your skin and sent a charge of electricity through your body.

I really love you.

Daddy ✪

Harry wins a Grammy. You weren’t able to be there. Or were you?

“Aren’t you coming in?” Harry asked Jeff as he exited the car, his hand wrapped under his new Grammy.

“I’m not. Enjoy the night, man. You deserve it.” Jeff spoke weirdly as he closed the door behind Harry and waved at him with a suspicious smile on his face.

“Enjoy my night? Don’t you want to come in and drink with me a bit befo-” Harry spoke as he watched the car with Jeff in it drive off.

Egocentric ♥ ☹

Memories of a fight with Harry overflow you, as you wander around the house and end up playing Fine Line on vinyl.

As the first few seconds of the song echoed through the room, I found myself being dragged into a different atmosphere. The one my mental state wouldn’t let me go in without crying.

All of the insecurities and doubts, that I have been overflown with, came over me and dragged me down with them.

Fireflies ♥

Harry has been acting weird for a couple of weeks, but when y/n finally finds out the truth, it’s far from what she assumed.

“Harry, what’s behind your back?” You asked straightforwardly.

He looked uncomfortable and seemed to have been taken aback by your question.

“It’s um-” He brought his hands forward. They held a black folder visibly full of papers. “It’s m’folder with song ideas.” He seemed unsure of the statement himself, but you put the blame on the fact, that he was left dumbfounded by your actions. What was that about though?

Flower Field ♥

Harry accidentally breaks his favorite guitar, which makes it an obvious choice of a present for his upcoming birthday.

“Is it small enough for me to carry it around?” Harry tried his best to guess what exactly you were getting him. He’d been like this since the early morning when you wouldn’t tell him what you’ve gotten for him.

“It’s not small, but you can carry it around.” It was the first question, for which your answer wasn’t exactly a “no”, so Harry smiled, thinking he’s finally onto something. The party took place in a closed down restaurant that you all would go to once in a while. There weren’t many guests. Just the closest friends. “Knowing Harry, it’s probably hundreds of people.” You thought.

Full Of You ✪

It’s your birthday and Harry has an idea of a birthday present.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Harry’s hold tightening around your body and his face snuggling into the crook of your neck. You whined, fighting for a couple more well-earned minutes of sleep.

“Nopies, bunny. Don’t whine at me. We have a long day ahead of us.” Harry excitedly informs you and lets his hands snake over your sides. Your boyfriend moves his mouth over to your ear and whispers this time. “It’s my love’s birthday today.”

Gucci Jumpsuit ♥

Harry pampering Y/N despite her attempts to stop him.

“They have the heels you love. The black ones, you know? They have those in pastel colours. Wouldn’t y’love that?”

“Harr-” I tried to say something in between his Ted Talk on why exactly I have to try those shoes he is talking about.

“And we could look for jeans f’you. You wanted wide leg jeans, remember?” He continued, without pausing even for a second.

Heat ✪

Your boi’s too vanilla for your liking. He refuted that tho.

As he filled you, even more tears started flowing. Your vision turned blurry and your head felt light. All you could feel was the stretch you craved so badly.

“Daddy, please fuck me.” Words leaving your mouth without a single thought in your head. You didn’t care that you’ve never got to ask him if he was actually into such things before, acting purely on instinct. All you wanted was to be filled. All you needed was the sensation of being penetrated by the man you loved.

Love On Tour ♥ ✪

Your parents are coming to meet him but you chose to keep it a secret.

“He deserves to know.” You thought. He was going to meet them today anyways. ��He won’t have time to get too nervous, right?” You kept debating on whether or not you should tell him the truth.

Your brows furrowed and your lips were pressed tight together. Harry took a look down at you, and his brows creased as well.

My Princess ✪

You tag along with Harry to his Vogue shoot. The dress is definitely a turn on.

“Ah, please,” Harry whined, letting you wrap your arm around his waist holding him from running away from your wet tongue.

“Please what, baby?” You teased him further, running your nails against the wet trace along his spine.

“Please, touch me.” He begged, pushing his back against your chest in hopes that your arm would move a little lower and touch his crotch even though he knew how much you hated it when he wasn’t patient.

Rainbow Cardigan ♥ ✪

Harry loses his favorite cardigan. You learn how to knit. (Based on the JW Anderson cardigan knitting trend.)

“I cannot lose it. I can’t. What if it’s lost forever? How could I let it out of my sight?” The sight of him so genuinely saddened by the situation made you let out a sigh. You were full of compassion and understanding, trying to remember the last time you saw the poor cardigan. Failing to do so, you turned to your crushed boyfriend and tried to get information out of him.

Right Choice ✪

Harry has a moustache now and you want to get it sticky.

“I’m all for it, so it’s up to you.” Harry nodded and started applying the shaving cream onto his cheeks.

“Just know that you have to eat me out whenever you’re done here because I’m dripping.”

Shattered Glass ☹

You feel overwhelmed by intrusive thoughts and memories of traumatic events. Glass is shattered.

“Hm?” You let your eyes fall on his gentle and almost all-knowing expression.

“I said I know what you’re doing. You’re letting things get to you. I know you can’t stop the flow of thoughts but at least let me know what’s bothering you so I can try to help.” He spoke softly and chose every next word with care as he knew that if he picked the wrong words you would close off even more.

Stay With Me ♥

You meet Harry and fall in love to the art and architecture of Rome.

“You looked very passionate and I would love it if we could sit and discuss it maybe? I know it sounds weird coming from a stranger-” He paused.

“You bet, crazy man.” You thought to yourself and giggled softly, realizing that the possibility that this ball of nerves is a human trafficker is close to zero.

Vegan Cupcakes ☹

You and Harry have been quarantined together and he needs space.

Spending most of the spring together didn’t feel as suffocating for Harry as summer did. Your classes were over and you didn’t take a summer semester, so your time fully revolved around him. Which he liked.

In the beginning.

Until you clung on him like a koala for days and made him cuddle you all the time, which he enjoyed a lot until it became a routine. Harry couldn’t even tell you how he felt because it would hurt your feelings, so he didn’t say anything at all, keeping it all to himself.

Wooden Floor ☹ ♥

Reuniting with Harry after being apart during the quarantine made you realize something.

When I met Harry, and we started dating, I promised myself to give him space and not suffocate him with my love, for I was scared, that he would leave me like everyone before him did.

I had never been loved so much. I had never experienced what I gave people myself. The endless love and loyalty. Harry gave me his all, and I started feeling bad for not showing all of the love I had for him, and yet I still feared losing him because of my obsessive nature.

I sat at the kitchen table and scrolled through our texts with Harry.

© all right belong to stylesberries. do not repost or modify.

[honey-dewey]

A Challenging Affair

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader

Word Count: 1,976

Warnings: None! This is 100% fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Shane wasn’t exactly the most up to date on current internet trends and challenges, but when you introduce him to a very interesting clothing challenge, it seems he can’t say no. Could today finally be the day New York City sees the Goth King wear some color? 

“Babe!” You said, falling onto the bed beside Shane. “Babe, look at this!” 

Shane rolled over from where he’d been working on his laptop and looked at your phone. “The fuck is that?” 

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you explained. “Aren’t you on TikTok?” 

“Maybe?” Shane said, confused. “I don’t even know anymore.” 

You groaned. “You’re such an old man!” You said. “Shane Morrissey, the goth king of New York City, and he can’t operate his own damn phone.” 

Shane elbowed you, causing you to squeal with laughter and roll away from him. “Watch yourself,” he warned you with a smile. “Or I’ll feed you to the dogs.” He rolled on top of you and blew a raspberry into your exposed belly, causing you to kick him, laughing uncontrollably. 

“Shane!” You screamed, flailing. “Quit!” 

“Aww,” Shane said, sliding off you and pouting. “But tormenting you is such fun.” 

You gave his shoulder a small shove, reaching for your phone. “But did you see the challenge?” 

The mattress creaked as Shane flopped down next to you. “No.” 

You held your phone out. “It’s a couples challenge. The two people go to a thrift store or something and buy an outfit for their significant other, then they wear those outfits on a date. It looks cute.” 

“Is this a coincidence?” Shane asked, raising his eyebrows. “Or do you know we’re doing date night tonight.” 

“It might be a coincidence,” you said, nudging up against Shane. “But since you said we have date night tonight, why don’t we try it!” 

Shane made a very unimpressed face at you, but shrugged. “Okay. I don’t care. But I get to pick the store.” 

You held your hand out to shake. “Deal!” 

In the end, Shane picked a place you and him both knew very well. The owners were good friends of yours and they were all excited to help you with the challenge when you explained it to them. 

“Alright,” Elon, one of the owners, said. “Here are your bags.” They handed you and Shane each a solid black bag so the other couldn’t peek. “You have each other’s clothing sizes. Go forth and conquer!” 

Immediately, you and Shane split up. You headed towards the sweaters and he headed for the shoes. Humming along to the music, you went through the soft shirts, ruling most of them out because they had too much of a pattern. You had quite the opportunity to put Shane in the most colorful shit you could find, but you weren’t that mean. Instead, you tried to find a balance between color and Shane. 

Finally, your digging around rewarded you with a perfect sweater in Shane’s size. It was a faded grey blue with small black stars, and you knew just by looking at it that it would work well on Shane. Putting it in your bag, you left to go ask your boyfriend a question. 

“No peeking,” Shane said warningly as you approached him. You smiled, looping your arm through his and leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

“I’m not peeking,” you said. “Just wanted to ask you a question.” 

Shane continued to look at shoes, although you could plainly see the outline of a pair in his bag. “Fire away.” 

“Do I have to get you pants?” 

Shane froze for a second, trying to comprehend what you’d just said. “As opposed to getting me what?” 

You shuffled your feet a tiny bit. “A skirt?” 

“Oh.” Shane loosened, shrugging. “Yeah. Go ahead. I don’t care. I’ve told you plenty of times that gender is just a construct meant to control the masses.” 

You giggled. “Don’t go all Dio on me,” you said. “I know you’re a giant dork under all that leather.” 

Shane scrunched his face up, coughing you to laugh. “Mhm,” he hummed. “Now go away. I’m shopping.” 

Giving Shane one last kiss, you walked away to find the right skirt for your sweater. 

It wasn’t hard. You knew what would look good on him, and you found his size in a soft black overall skirt almost immediately. The skirt flared pretty well, and upon further examination, you found that it was a circle skirt. Tossing it and a pair of sheer black tights in your bag, you only had one more thing to find. Shoes. 

On your way to the shoes, you got distracted. You’d intended to let Shane wear his regular jewelry, but passing the small display, you backtracked and grabbed a small ring with a beautiful Aries constellation on it.

You bumped into Shane, almost literally, as you rounded a corner. He smiled at you, gently guiding you around him so you two didn’t collide. “Watch it,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you hurting the pretty face of yours.” 

Blushing, you scowled at Shane, sticking your tongue out at him as you walked away. He mimicked the gesture, showing off his rarely seen tongue piercing. 

Shoes weren’t hard. Shane cycled through three different pairs of platform boots and two pairs of solid black Doc Martens, so you decided to let Shane continue with his current pair of shoes, which were one of the Doc pairs. You almost put a pair of hot pink crocs in the bag, just to screw with Shane, but you had told yourself you’d be kind, and hot pink crocs didn’t seem very kind, even if it was hilarious. 

“I’m done,” you said cheerfully, walking over to where Shane was looking at shirts. “You?” 

“I’ve been done,” Shane said. “Here.” He held out the bag for you. You exchanged it for your bag for him, swapping. “Ready?” 

You nodded eagerly. “Yep! Let’s go!” 

Elon’s girlfriend, Lucy, got you both set up in changing rooms, smiling at you knowingly. “Oh honey,” she said to you. “Dio got damn lucky with his pick.” 

Suddenly nervous, you began to get changed. 

The outfit wasn’t bad. In fact, you liked it. A cute pair of mom jeans with embroidered flowers around the folded ankles and the pockets, a white jersey knit shirt that you tucked loosely into the pants, a pair of white socks, and a pair of yellow buttercup earrings made up the outfit, but you couldn’t find the shoes. 

“Shane?” You said, confused. “Where are the shoes?” 

“There aren’t any in my bag either,” Shane said over the gap in the wall. 

“You’re supposed to wear your Docs,” you said. “Should I wear my sneakers?” 

“No,” Shane said. “I have your shoes. I wanted to see your face when I gave them to you.” 

You pouted, leaving the dressing room and making a face at Lucy, who had her lips pressed together in barely contained amusement. 

Shane stepped out of his dressing room, and your pour melted away. “You look so good!” You said eagerly. 

Truthfully, Shane did look really good. The sweater was a tiny bit big, but that added to the aesthetic. The skirt was just the right length, and you couldn’t wait to run your hands across his thighs in public and give him a taste of his own teasing medicine. He shuffled in his shoes, shrugging. 

“It’s too much color,” he said finally, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“It’s one faded blue sweater,” you pointed out. “Be glad I didn’t pick the neon rainbow tie dye shirt.” 

Shane fake gagged, causing you and Lucy to laugh. 

“Okay,” Shane said, holding out a shoe box. “Sit.” 

You sat down on a stool, closing your eyes at Shane’s request and putting your feet in his lap when he sat on the floor. You could feel him sliding each shoe onto your feet, and you tried to guess what they were. 

“Are they platforms?” Shane adjusted the laces on the left shoe. 

“No.” Shane pulled the laces on the left shoe tight. 

“Docs?” Shane was adjusting the right shoe laces now. 

“Yes.” Shane pulled on the right laces. You could feel your foot move as he tied them. 

“Can I open my eyes?” You were super eager to see the shoes. 

You felt Shane shuffle back, so your feet were no longer in his lap. “Yes.” 

You opened your eyes, immediately gasping. The shoes were hideous and you adored them. You’d been trying to find a pair of these Docs in your size for years, but they had stopped making them a decade ago. “Are these the Pascal Darcys?” 

Shane was smiling. “Those are the god awful Pascal Darcy Docs you desperately wanted,” he confirmed. “Lucy said Elon found a pair a few days ago, and when she told me they were in your size, I knew I had to get them for you.” 

You all but launched yourself into Shane’s arms. “You absolute bastard!” You said happily, hugging him tight. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Shane said, holding you almost as tight as you were holding him. “Now c’mon, I believe we have a date tonight.” 

Reluctantly, you took everything off and paid for it, carrying the bags home  and trying to resist the urge to pull your new boots out and break them in with a trip around the block. 

When you got home, you and Shane changed, and Shane wiped his heavy makeup away for something lighter and simpler. 

“Can I do your makeup?” You asked, standing in the bathroom with Shane. “I picked your outfit, so it makes sense.” 

Shane looked at you with his eyebrows raised. “No sabotage?” 

You gasped. “You think too little of me!” You said, picking up Shane’s liquid eyeliner pen. “I would never.” You quickly kissed Shane’s nose. “I promise,” you added softly. “No sabotage.” 

Shane sat still as you did his makeup, not going overboard because you didn’t want to. Instead, you kept it simple with a small amount of eyeliner and a bit of extra blush across his cheeks and nose. 

“I think I should return the favor,” Shane said, standing once you were finished. “Gimme the brush.” 

“I’m already perfect,” you shot back, but handed him the brush anyway. 

You ended up with the same treatment as Shane. Some eyeliner and blush was all he decided you needed before he was telling you to go put your shoes on. You didn’t need to be told twice, racing off to go put your new boots on. 

“Do you still love them?” Shane asked, putting his arm around you as you walked out of the building. 

“Do you still think they’re ugly?” You asked back, smiling. 

Shane sighed, smiling. “They’re really not my thing,” he said. “But I’m glad you love them.” 

You grinned, kicking your foot as best you could while walking. “I love them,” you said. 

Your date ended up being an early dinner at a local cafe and then you and Shane wandering around a tiny used bookstore for almost an hour. You didn’t buy anything, you just enjoyed the book smell and the calming atmosphere, losing yourself among the stacks of old books. The owner was a witch, and you found Shane talking to her about tarot cards. You pressed yourself to Shane’s side, yawning and snuggling closer to his sweater. 

Shane instinctively put an arm around you, holding you to him. You smiled. “Can we go home?” You asked softly. “I’m tired.” 

“Of course,” Shane said, kissing your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow Beth.” 

Beth waved as you two went, walking silently home. 

When you fell into bed, in your pyjamas and half asleep already, you were surprised to see Shane follow you, still wearing his sweater. The skirt and tights had been exchanged for sweatpants, and his shoes were discarded somewhere in the bathroom. 

“Did you have fun?” Shane asked, snuggling close to you.

You nodded, sleepily humming. “Yeah. Thank you for indulging me today.” 

Shane smiled, pulling the blankets up to cover the both of you. “For you, my dove, anything.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 15: Midnight Manhattan]

A/N: Hi y’all! Thank you so much for your patience and support. I think it’ll be worth it...this chapter has something you’ve been waiting for. Only three more chapters left after this one! 💜

Chapter summary: A family visit turns awkward, Chrissie loses her cool, Roger and Y/N have a difficult conversation, John tells the truth.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, babies, miscarriage, cute kids, drama, angst, more drama, more angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark @culturefiendtrashqueen @allauraleigh​@deakydeacy​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

They say losing a child will destroy a marriage, and you’re sure that’s often true; but it didn’t destroy yours.

Roger is the only one who can truly understand—who can feel that same aching and eternal, ravening absence in his bones—because he’s the only one who lost her too. He mourns with you, he stays awake through long nights with you, and when the future seems too oppressively bleak to imagine he drags you back into the light with tired daybreak smiles exchanged over mugs of tea and songs plucked on his acoustic guitar by the roaring fireplace, stories and jokes, walks through the green trellises of Hyde Park and the marble halls of the British Museum filled with ancient treasures stolen from Egypt and India and the Yucatan Peninsula, Italy and Greece, leaving craters of hollow memory littered across the planet like the imprint of the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs.

Together you bury her ashes in the garden behind the Surrey house. John brings you a pot of white calla lilies, and when the weather warms you plant them beside the small black stone carved with two names you never speak: Joan Aurora. Together you watch the blossoms grow up and grow old and wither back into the earth like everything does when the clock runs out, when the universe claims back the debt of life we borrow thinking that we own it. And through it all Roger is so persistently kind and patient and present that you’re willing to try for another pregnancy, despite the odds stacked against you like moving boxes, despite the crushing heartache that another loss would entail; despite your fearful, growing suspicion that in both casinos and the genetic lottery, the house always wins.

It never happens again, and you reach a sort of peace with this; but it’s a peace that makes you feel small and immaterial, like when you think too much about how vast the universe really is, like when you wake up restless before the dawn and wander out onto the cracked cobblestones in the garden as the sun burns the darkness off the world from east to west, watching the stars as they vanish in a sky bloodied with another world’s light.

A year passes, and then another, and then another; and every February 15th John sends you a new pot of white calla lilies to plant in the garden where other people’s children play.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Look, look, look!” Laszlo frenetically waves a crayon illustration in front of your face. On his head is the hat you knitted for him, green and featuring a large white L and with sprigs of fluffy brown hair like John’s peeking out around the edges. “I can draw like Daddy!”

It’s November 24th, 1981, and Queen is in Montreal. The band is playing two sold-out shows, one tonight and one tomorrow, and Brian and John have flown in their families for one last visit to tide their wives and children over until the touring break at Christmas. Laszlo is six years old now, Anna nearly five, Lena three, Antoni—fast asleep and presumably dreaming of such complexities as Hershey’s chocolate bars and Care Bear plushies—two; and there have been no additional Deacon children, a fact which seems to be the source of some disharmony between John and Veronica. What Laszlo has drawn with his rainbow of Crayolas most closely resembles a very chubby banana, but with black spots like a Dalmatian’s.

“Oh my goodness, you’re a young Picasso!” you exclaim. “It’s amazing! It’s a...it’s a...a...” Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up. “It’s a...giraffe...?”

“Yeah!” Laszlo confirms, grinning.

Oh thank god.

“Very impressive,” John tells you. “I would have guessed pineapple with leprosy.”

“It’s not a leopard, Daddy,” Laszlo says seriously.

“Yes of course, I didn’t say leopard, I said leprosy, which is entirely different—”

“It’s not a leopard!” Laszlo insists.

“You heard the kid, Deaks,” Roger says, winking. “No leopards. Come over here, kiddo, let me see the nice giraffe...oh yes, it is so obviously a giraffe, you can tell by the expertly placed spots...”

“You’re so good with them,” Veronica marvels, perhaps not quite approvingly, noting how Antoni is dozing peacefully against your chest, a red hat stitched with a massive A snug over his jumble of auburn hair. “He never sleeps for anyone. Not even me.”

“Being comfortable to nap on is one of my many talents.”

“It’s true,” Roger notes, smiling, combing through the knots in his brittle bleached hair.

“No, no, no, don’t try to be modest, you’ve always been fantastically good at caring for people. I remember Brian was half dead when you brought him home from that hospital in Boston.” Chrissie is sitting on the floor of the dressing room with Anna and Lena, helping to facilitate a glamorous wedding for Barbie and Ken. Teddy and Evelyn, both four years old and with massive mops of dark ringlets, are scribbling on coloring book pages of screeching dinosaurs and plunging prehistoric comets above tangles of jungle treetops.

“Hmm,” Veronica agrees lukewarmly. “You’ll be a wonderful mother to your own one day.”

You wince, bite your lower lip, peer down at Antoni’s pacific little face. His eyes, when they’re open, are a greyish blue like John’s. Chrissie kicks Veronica’s ankle and glares at her. Brian glances over from where he’s tuning his Red Special, one rangy leg propped up on a chair.

“Not so sure that’s in the cards,” you demur.

“Keep praying, dear,” Veronica offers. “The Lord will provide in his own time.”

You blink at her. She stares pityingly back with infuriating, weepy eyes. Everyone is suddenly very quiet, except for Freddie; he starts humming Another One Bites The Dust and taps his white Adidas sneakers in rhythm.

“What uniquely helpful advice,” you reply.

“Well, surely one doesn’t need biological children to be fulfilled in life,” Roger tells Veronica lightly, like it’s a warning.

She looks thunderstruck, like this is such a novel concept, like Roger just shared with her the secret to time travel or immortal life. “Perhaps not, but you know...it’s so terribly important for most women.”

“How feminist,” Chrissie quips, lighting a cigarette, flicking the ashes away irritably.

John leans into Veronica. “Stop it,” you can just barely hear him say.

“It’s interesting you would bring up timing, Veronica,” you observe. “We were all so discrete about yours.”

Freddie snorts, tries to pretend it was a sneeze, smooths his moustache as he studies himself in the mirror.

“I’m just trying to help, love,” Veronica claims innocently. “All this can’t be good for you, this ceaseless globetrotting. Almost never waking up in the same place twice. The stress of it!”

“What do you want her to do?” Roger snaps. “Sit at home nine or ten months out of the year and, what, scrub the windows until I come back? Take up watercolor painting? Knit the world’s largest quilt?”

“I’m just saying that less physical and emotional strain might help with the situation.”

“Because you’re a freaking doctor, right?” Roger flares. Chrissie kicks Veronica again.

“People should spend more time close to home,” she continues, undaunted. “There’s nothing more important than family. Look at me, I should have another on the way by now, but the band’s schedule is simply murderous...”

“Trying for a football team?” you inquire. And in the same moment you realize: This isn’t about me at all. This is about her and John.

Freddie is still humming, modelling his Superman tank top and tight white jeans in the mirror, cinching and re-cinching his belt, sliding a red sweatband unto one wrist. The kids—all except the unconscious Antoni—are giggling and pushing each other around on the slippery linoleum floor, seemingly oblivious. John whispers something to Veronica, his face dark and furious.

“John should be home more,” she bursts out. “For me, for the children—”

Roger scoffs and rolls his eyes. “For christ’s sake, lady, he’s not your bloody lapdog!”

“You don’t really need him,” she protests, almost pleads. “He’s just the bassist, he thought this would be a hobby to fill his time on weekends when he was in school, he didn’t sign up to live this way and Queen could find another bassist and you don’t need him—”

“We do need him! He’s not just some bassist! He’s a genius and he’s irreplaceable and there’s absolutely no Queen without him, we swore to it, I’d leave if he ever did!”

“You did what?!” Brian exclaims. Freddie hums louder, stomping his sneakers to the beat, mock-boxing with his reflection in the mirror. John raises his eyebrows at Roger as if he had assumed Rog wouldn’t remember that, assumed he had never really meant it. Roger, flushed, fumbles with his lighter and finally lights a cigarette on his third attempt.

Antoni stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and Chrissie swoops in to take her turn holding him. She bounces him on her hip as she sashays around the dressing room, casting fierce scowls alternately at Veronica and John and Roger.

“You don’t understand,” Veronica hurls at Roger, lashing out like a cornered animal, her voice raw and splintering. “You’ve never sacrificed anything. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of just falls into your lap. No heartache. No consequences. You don’t know what it’s like to be one of the people who get burned.”

“You don’t know anything about me—!”

“Look, I get it,” you tell Veronica. “You want John to yourself. Anyone would. You want a normal life. But that’s the tradeoff when you love someone brilliant, isn’t it? You have to learn how to share them with the world. Because the world is so much better off with them in it.”

Veronica glowers, venomous and spiteful. She’s wearing makeup tonight, quite heavy makeup; she’s started doing that with increasing frequency. “I have no intention of sharing a husband the way you’ve had to.”

Roger stands, stalks to Veronica, towers over her, blows smoke into her stunned face. “Ma’am,” he says quietly, so the children won’t hear. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Okay, darlings!” Freddie flits over, pulls Roger away, fluffs his hair and straightens his black smock-like shirt as Roger glares around Fred’s shoulder at Veronica. “Fabulous. You look like a ten-year-old about to make a papier-mâché vase for his mum in art class. I adore it. Off you go.” He pushes open the door to the hallway and shoves Roger through it.

Roger nods for you to follow him, and you do.  

John frowns as you pass him. I’m so sorry, that expression says.

You shake your head in reply. Not your fault.

Roger slips his arm around your waist as you disappear into the hallway with him.

“That fucking miserable, judgmental, delusional, dogmatic bitch—”

“Shhhhh.” You cup his feverish cheek with your left hand, weighty with the ruby ring he gave you four years ago in New Orleans, and yank the white bandana out of his back pocket with your right. Then you knot it around his neck, smiling. “There. Now you look a little more rock and roll.”

“You’re not mad?” he asks in disbelief. “How are you not mad?”

“She’s clearly very unhappy. I feel sorry for her.” You tug on the bandana gently, fondly. You can hear Chrissie chastising Veronica behind the closed door of the dressing room. “Don’t let it ruin your show.”

“No, I would never.” But his eyes are still distant, unsettled, anxious in a way that is rare for him. “You are a freakishly good person, you know that?”

“I try. Don’t forget to smile so I can get some good pictures.”

“Oh, I’ll smile plenty. Just like this.” A grin splits through his face, and the Roger you know and love is back: bright, triumphant, flashing the daggerish points of his canine teeth. Then he draws you into him and kisses you, his rough hands in your hair, his lips smiling against yours. “Love of my life,” he whispers, rather pensively.

He shakes out his right arm—the one with the jagged scar along the soft vulnerable underside, the one he broke in a stairwell in Yokohama in the spring of 1975—and stretches the hand a few times. And you find yourself wondering, as you always do when he seems distracted like he does now, before he starts staying out late into the night, before he starts coming home drunk or high or not at all: Is he getting bad again? Is he?

I would never have to worry about that if I had married someone like John.

You fling that thought, that inconvenient and perpetual thought, back into the shadows where it came from; like a pebble tossed into the misted tree line of a forest, like a shell pitched into the sea.

“Rog, are you—?”

“I’m fine,” he cuts you off like a blade.  

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s someone screaming out in the hallway.

You reel out of bed in the darkness, step into your slippers, yank on your fuzzy white robe. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 4:11 a.m. Roger and Brian had stayed for one more round of drinks at the club when you and Chrissie left to go back to the hotel, Chrissie to relieve her nanny from kid duty, you to quiet a budding headache. You note—with a vague, drowsy sort of dread—that Roger is not in the bed beside you, his hair a disheveled blond mess peeking from beneath the covers, snoring softly, his calloused hands outstretched towards yours. Beyond the door there are earsplitting clashes of broken glass, thumps and pounding footsteps, people shouting. And now you can recognize Chrissie’s voice, shrieking and wrathful: “Now you’ve done it, now you’ve really done it, you’re going to fucking kill her!”

You throw open the door to see Roger crouched against the hallway wall, covering his head with his hands; he is surrounded by shards of glass, tiny hotel shampoo and mouthwash bottles, Bibles ripped from nightstand drawers. He’s dripping with what smells like a combination of every kind of alcohol you’ve ever tasted, and maybe some you haven’t as well.

“I wish she’d never fucking met you!” Chrissie screams, launching a bottle of Grey Goose from the minibar in her room at Roger. It explodes against the wall just above his head, and glass and vodka rain down on him. Brian is unsuccessfully attempting to coax Chrissie back into their room as she ignores him. “I wish she’d never stepped off that fucking plane because the day she agreed to come to London with you was the worst day of her life!”

“Will you stop?!” Roger yells. “Jesus christ, Chris!”

“She saved you,” Chrissie hisses, landing an elbow into Brian’s gut and sending him flying backwards. “She saved your life and this is how you repay her, you disgusting degenerate bastard!”

A bottle of Captain Morgan hits the wall and detonates two inches from Roger’s face.

“What’s going on?!” you shout at Chrissie, your arms crossed over your chest.

A few rooms down the hallway, a door opens and Freddie wanders out in a pink kimono. After a moment, John and Veronica appear from their own room in their pajamas, rubbing bleary eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep so I phoned my mum and guess what’s on the cover of the News Of The World this week.” Chrissie points at Roger. “Go on. Tell her. Tell her what you did.”

He knows; he doesn’t say anything, but he knows. You can see that he does. It’s lurking in the shallow cerulean pools of his glistening eyes like a shadow, like a ghost.

“What did you do?” John asks him, mystified.

Roger doesn’t answer. He’s looking at you, at Chrissie, back to you. It isn’t often that Roger is fearful, acutely and bone-rattlingly afraid; but he is now.

“Fine, you don’t want to own up to it? I’ll do it. I’ll tell her, you coward.” Chrissie spins to you. “Dominique Beyrand is seven months pregnant.”

I’m surrounded by goddamn mothers. “Okay. Good for her.”

Chrissie waits for it to hit you. And then it does.

Oh. Oh.

“Bleeding christ,” you hear Freddie sigh, rubbing his forehead. Veronica covers her gaping mouth with one pale hand, and she doesn’t look smug or vindicated or condemnatory; she looks terrified. John is watching you, you can see him on the periphery of your vision; you are dimly aware of him edging closer as you gaze at Roger, your eyes wide and blurring with tears, your throat burning.  

You can’t understand it, can’t imagine it, and then suddenly you can: his fingers threading through her glossy black hair, his lips skating over her neck, promises whispered through nightscape phone calls, haphazard lies whispered to you; reckless, small-boned, doe-eyed children with Dom’s olive skin and Roger’s sharp little canine teeth.

This is the part where I wake up. This is the part where it turns out to be just a hellacious dream.

But you don’t wake up, because this is real.

“Oh,” you exhale, brainlessly, helplessly.

Roger doesn’t sputter some desperate apology, he doesn’t beg you to forgive him. He stares at you with huge, starry blue eyes, booze dripping from his hair, surrender etched into the concave slump of his back and shoulders.

You ask him, already knowing the answer: “It’s not just a fling, is it?”

“No,” he replies miserably. “I thought it was, but it isn’t.”

You nod, those first hot tears spilling down your cheeks. “Okay,” you concede, your words brittle and fracturing. “I’ll file as soon as we get back to London.” File for divorce. File this entire misadventure away in my mind as a horrific and juvenile mistake. Shred the good memories into oblivion so I can’t remember how alive he once made me feel.

That seems to bother Roger, jolts him into urgency. The white bandana is still tied around his neck. “You don’t have to do that—”

“Are you fucking joking?” you pitch at him. “Are you not done humiliating me yet? Am I not ruined enough? Do I somehow still look remotely whole to you?”

John’s hand closes around your wrist. “Don’t,” he tells you gently.

Roger begins: “I never wanted to hurt—”

“But you did,” you seethe, tears slithering down your face. It’s sinking in now, it’s becoming real, it’s materializing from years of gnawing distrust into fact. They were all right about him. They were always right. John’s arms circle you, holding you back as you struggle against him. “You fucking did and I forgave you like an idiot just so you could prove to me over and over and over again how exceptionally little you cared.”

“That’s not true—!”

“You’ve done enough!” Chrissie roars at him. Brian wrestles a bottle of Don Julio out of her grasp. “You deplorable slut, can’t you see that you’ve done enough?!”

Freddie approaches Roger, dusts the glinting flecks of glass out of his hair, wrenches him staggering to his feet.

“Come on,” John murmurs, towing you towards your room. Veronica is tracking him with blazing eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Go ahead, Roger!” you shout as John drags you away, as Roger is corralled into Freddie’s room. “Get clean for her, get clean for her children, tell her she’s the love of your life and marry her and give her a ring but don’t forget to remind her that none of it means a single fucking thing—!”

John stumbles with you into your hotel room. He slams the door behind him, and the world goes deathly quiet. You reel aimlessly, collapse onto the edge of the bed, dazed, staring at the bland landscape paintings on the wall, ticking down the mental list of things you’ll need to get from the Surrey house: photographs, paperwork, John’s sketches, the conch shell from Ostia.

What about the calla lilies? What about her grave?

And there’s another list as well, whether you want there to be or not; a list of things you’ll never feel again.

His teeth grazing my knuckles, his palms cradling my face, his raspy voice as he writes songs on quiet nights, the way he loved our daughter, the way he sets souls alight like wildfire.

John just stands in the middle of the hotel room, heaving in ragged breaths, his hands on his waist. And for a long time, neither of you speak at all.

“Do you want me to stay?” John says finally.

“You can’t,” you reply, thinking of Veronica and the children.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No. I’m fine. I want to be alone.”

He comes to you, lifts your chin with one careful hand, touches his forehead to yours before he leaves. “You are never going to be alone.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You hear the key clatter in the lock, and your hotel room door creaks open. You’re laying on the floor after Queen’s second show in Montreal, staring blankly up at the ceiling, counting the black dots in the tiles like stars, imagining constellations of monsters and heroes and doomed love.

John appears above you, his brow furrowed. He shuttled all of Roger’s things to Freddie’s room after you packed them up this morning, then he took Roger’s key. “What are you doing?”

“Fantasizing about my own death.”

He checks his watch. “Will you be done in twelve minutes?”

“What happens in twelve minutes?”

“We have to leave for the afterparty on a yacht.”

You groan, sitting upright, rubbing your sore and sleepless eyes with the heels of your hands. “I can’t do it, John. I don’t have it in me tonight. I can’t mingle with all of those obnoxious music industry people. ‘Yes, hi, hello, yes it’s true, I am the sad barren soon-to-be-ex-wife, oh what a charming nineteen-year-old model mistress you have on your arm there, I too was once young and desirable and disastrously stupid.’”

He smiles. “You’re still somewhat desirable.”

“Thanks.” You reach up, take his hands, let him help you to your feet.

“You realize if you don’t go I’m going to have to hide in the corner and compulsively eat miniature quiches all by myself.”

“Your enchanting wife isn’t attending?”

“She wanted to stay with the children. Also, she hates me.”

You chuckle. “She doesn’t hate you. She passionately does not hate you, which is the problem.”

“So you’ll come with me.”

You mull this over. “Can I get so drunk I forget I exist?”

“Sure. If you promise to stay near me and away from the water.”

“Yes, I suppose that you, as a convicted felon, would be high on the list of suspects if I was to go overboard.”

“Losing you would be the worst thing that ever happened to me. Who would I call to post my bail?”

You laugh as you beam up at him, knot your fingertips through his hair, see your silhouette reflected in his greyish eyes that today remind you of storm clouds, of torrential autumn rain, of thunder. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go to your torturous yacht party.”

“Aww, what a tragedy, being forced to enjoy all the trappings of stardom” John teases, and then you can see the regret wrinkle across his face; because people don’t joke about things like tragedies around you anymore.

“It’s a hard life,” you agree. “But it feels a little easier when you’re around.”

You slip into a dark blue dress and heels and your bomber jacket that doesn’t match at all. John meets you in the hallway in a black suit. You share a limo with Brian and Chrissie, who chatter nervously about anything they can think of that doesn’t involve Roger or marriage or children or love. Bri points out constellations through the open moonroof as frigid Canadian air pours in and rattles your dangling diamond earrings, whips through your hair. John smooths the runaway strands, rests his arm across the back of your seat, smiles in a tranquil sort of way and actually appears to pay attention as Brian narrates the stories of the stars and their celestial families: Pegasus, Aquarius, Pisces, tiny Triangulum, the lightning strike zigzag of Lacerta, Perseus.

“You look gorgeous,” Chrissie tells you, and she seems to mean it.

“Thank you,” you reply politely. “If only I was also French and fertile.”

The yacht is docked on the bank of the Saint Lawrence River, an island of roaring laughter and music and twinkling strands of lights in an ocean of night. John leads you onboard, waves at the photographers who douse you in flashbulb luminescence, stands with you by the railing at the stern of the vessel as it pulls out into the river. Periodically some palpably accomplished stranger will appear, shake John’s hand, start asking him about You’re My Best Friend or Another One Bites The Dust or Under Pressure; but mostly the two of you are left alone. You drain flute after flute of pink champagne as John nurses his Manhattans, debating the merits of the various appetizers; you—ever the proud Bostonian—are partial to the bite-sized lobster rolls, while John prefers the Swedish meatballs speared on puzzlingly tropical toothpick umbrellas.

Roger is on the yacht too of course, and every once in a while you catch a glimpse of his blond hair or his blush-colored polka dot suit, hear his voice carried on the cold November wind; and you ignore this as much as you can. Twice he starts migrating towards you, and you and John pretend not to notice, dart through the crowds to the other side of the boat, your hand clasped in John’s as he weaves relatively anonymously through ballgowns and suits and reporters’ microphones. And he peeks back at you, grinning, and says: “I bet you’re thrilled no one knows who I am tonight.”

Chrissie steals you away briefly to keep her company when Brian gets snared into an excruciatingly dull interview about Queen’s next album; and when Brian comes to collect her, John greets you with a fresh glass of champagne in one hand and his fourth Manhattan in the other.

“You better make sure you don’t go overboard, Mr. Deacon,” you say, taking the champagne flute and resting your forearms on the yacht’s railing as waves break against the hull. Freshwater mist peppers your cheeks, your collarbones, the backs of your hands. Through the speakers pluck the opening notes of Hotel California. “Oh god. This song.”

“Fond memories?” John asks with a smirk. “That whole night is a blur to me.”

“It makes me think of sharks for some reason. And the Olympics.”

“It makes me feel...” He considers this. “Overwhelmed with self-loathing.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re the least loathable person I’ve ever met.” You sip your champagne, gaze out into the moonlit currents that run from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic Ocean, to the shores of every place you’ve ever called your own. “How long did Dante live in exile from Florence?”

“Twenty years.”

You whistle. “That’s a long time to be away from home.” The fingers of your left hand clutch the railing, which is gold and sturdy and stingingly cold. “I feel a little like him sometimes. Except as you get older, home starts to feel less like places and more like people.” You twist off your ruby ring, glance down at it fleetingly, and toss it out into the glistening black waters of the Saint Lawrence River.

John looks over at you. “It’s really over, isn’t it?”

You nod slowly, mournfully. “Yeah. It’s really over.”

“And how are we feeling about that?”

“Relieved. Petrified. Exhausted. Mostly I’m just sad.”

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “For everything.”

“Why? None of it was your fault.” You sigh, shake your head, peer out into the river, into the night sky, into the stars. “Maybe this is a good thing, you know? A blessing in disguise or whatever. I can move on knowing I did everything I could to salvage the marriage. I can be free. No more waiting up at night for someone who isn’t coming home. No more searching through pockets and suitcases for white powder or used needles. No more News Of The World headlines.”

John is still staring at you.

“What?” you ask, smiling warily.

He downs the rest of his Manhattan, twirls the glass as the ice cubes clink against each other. Finally, he says: “I could have given you a very different kind of life.”

Your lips, slick with gloss and tingling with sharp carbonation from the champagne, part to ask John what he means; but then you know. Your voice is a quivering, astonished whisper. “It was about me. You’re My Best Friend.”

“Yeah, it was. And most of the others were too.”

It was about me. All those years ago, that song was about me. And it still is.

“John...”

“I watched you fall in love with Roger, watched him fall in love with you. Watched this agonizing fucking dance that you do...he can’t give you what you want, you can’t be happy with less...and I just kept waiting to wake up one day and not want you anymore. And it never happened.” He laughs, briefly, bitterly. “I mean, for christ’s sake, I refused to propose to the mother of my child until I was sure you’d stay with Roger because I thought...I thought...you know, maybe. Maybe one day you’d change your mind. And I wanted to be there if you did.”

You gaze at him, soaking him in, unambiguously aware that there is no part of you that is afraid, no part of you that is shuddering or surrendering or apprehensive; there is no instinctive chorus begging you not to fall in love with him. There’s no sensation of falling at all. It feels like you’re somewhere you’ve never left.

“I know that next to someone like Roger Taylor I don’t look like much,” John confesses. “That I don’t feel like much. That I don’t light anything up the way he does. And if you can’t imagine a future with someone who isn’t him, someone who isn’t like him...then I completely accept that. But you’re always going to feel like home to me.”

You’re My Best Friend. You And I. Spread Your Wings. In Only Seven Days. Need Your Loving Tonight.

They were all about me. They were always about me.

“John...”

You don’t know what to say. You know exactly what to say.

From the crowd, a man dressed in a blue pinstripe suit and holding a Cuban cigar bellows for John. He whirls, offers a shy wave, trots over to say hello. But as they discuss concerts and albums and tours, John’s eyes meet yours through the sea of strangers and cigarette smoke, through the shifting shadows cast by flickering incandescence and moonshine.

And you watch him as the constellations and all their stars rage above, the same stars that in the time of Dante sailors read to point them home.

[sapphoslibrary]

happy valentine’s day! have some willow/lyra content

A bouquet of roses sits between my arm and my chest, all different colors with their own meanings, arranged neatly in rainbow order. A pair of fuzzy socks is squeezed under my arm— Lyra’s favorite brand, and only gift request— and a container of fresh baked cookies is in my hand. 

I stiffly move to ring the doorbell with my elbow, careful not to drop anything. Within seconds, Lyra pulls the door open. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” I greet, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “Some roses for my favorite Lyra Rose, fuzzy socks, cookies… some for Drew in there, too, if you’re willing to share with them.” I press all of it into Lyra’s hands as I list them, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. 

“Christ, Willow,” Lyra laughs, setting the socks and cookies down onto the table behind her, the roses still held tight in her hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.” 

Lyra’s arms wrap around my neck, squeezing tight. She presses her lips to my neck, pulling a slight shiver out of me. “Had to go all out for you, of course.” I shrug, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“I love your extra ass so much,” Lyra says. She pulls away, grinning, her eyes shining with something like admiration.

I can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks. She’s wearing a wine red camisole, lacy and cropped at the waist, with light wash jeans. Her eyeshadow is a bold red to match, with a tiny bit of gold shimmer in the corner. It’s so rare to see such an intense color on her, but it looks so gorgeous. 

She’s truly perfected the art of leaving me speechless, time and time again. 

I open my mouth to speak, but Lyra beats me to it. “I have the picnic stuff ready,” she says, gesturing to the woven basket on the counter. “But first... come downstairs real quick? Got something to show you.” 

She smiles, a slight flush coming to her cheeks. I step forward and take her hand, my eyebrows raised. “‘Course. We got time,” I say softly, shrugging. 

Lyra’s smile grows, her flush deepening. She leads me through the den, over to the door, down the stairs leading to the basement. I’ve never been down here, but I know it’s Lyra’s space, where she paints and sews and creates all her beautiful things. 

The whole room is flooded with her paintings, and they’re all amazing. They’re mostly of animals and flowers and mountains, ranging from cartoonish to almost scarily realistic. On canvases and other random things, scattered around the room. The back wall is painted in a half-finished mural of a field with a lake and a deer. 

“Holy shit, Ly,” I breathe, my eyes drifting over all of her art, completely in awe. 

Lyra squeezes my hand once, then pulls away. “Yeah. I... paint a lot,” she says shyly. She walks over to the corner, and pushes a large empty canvas aside. “Besides the point, though.” 

She picks something up, deliberately hiding it from my sight. As she turns back around to face me, a smile still pulling at her lips, she quickly shoves whatever it is behind her back. Slowly, Lyra walks back over to me, her cheeks somehow going even darker. 

“I know you’ve been wanting a new one of these for a while,” Lyra starts softly, hazel eyes boring into mine. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. She laughs gently. “So I thought I’d get you one, and add a little bit of a personal touch.” 

“You’re raising so many more questions than you’re answering,” I murmur, my eyes narrowing slightly. 

Lyra laughs again, louder. “Okay, damn, I’ll finish my sappy monologue later,” she concedes, and pulls her arms around to the front, revealing the gift. 

My jaw drops when I see it. A brand new ukulele, completely hand painted. The background is a solid black, a large off-white crescent moon in the middle, from the top of the sound hole to the bridge. Multi colored flowers are littered over the whole thing, painted vines and leaves growing from and wrapping around the moon in the center. Blue butterflies rest on a couple of the flowers. 

Everything is symbolic of our relationship. All of the important moments and memories— the moonlight on the night we met, the flowers at our first date, the butterflies we both carry with us in our stomachs. 

“Lyra,” I finally manage after staring at it for... way too long, maybe. 

“Do you like it?” She asks nervously, the smile dropped from her face. “I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing, I don’t know about all this music shit, but—“ 

I take a step closer, cutting her off with a kiss, pulling her close against my chest. She gives a surprised moan against my lips, her eyebrows shooting up— but she returns it with equal enthusiasm. 

My arms wrap tight around the bare skin of her waist, holding her like it’s my last chance, somehow kissing gentle and messy at the same time. Her hands flutter awkwardly at my sides before draping around my waist as well. I pull her flush against my chest, the ukulele still held tight in my hand.

After only long enough to make my point, I pull away, tipping my forehead against hers. She gives a small smile, breathing hard. 

“It’s stunning, Lyra,” I whisper. “Jesus Christ, it’s fucking stunning.” My fingers ghost over the strings, plucking softly, letting the smallest bit of sound come out.

Lyra lets out a sigh of relief, her head dropping forward. “Thank god. I’m so glad you like it,” she says, her happiness and relief clear in her voice. 

“Love it. And you,” I say, my lips pressed to Lyra’s forehead. “Shit, no ones ever done anything like this for me. This is just… amazing.” 

“It’s nothing, really,” Lyra shrugs. “I loved doing it. Plus, now I know how to string a ukulele, which is pretty cool.” 

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous, love,” I say fondly, tipping my head back down to lean against hers. “Seriously, thank you. I really, really love it. Thank you so much.” 

Lyra kisses my cheek, her eyes sliding shut. “‘Course. I can’t wait to hear you play.” 

“Oh, I promise you it’s all you’ll be hearing for a while.” My free hand slips down, finding Lyra’s and squeezing. “You’re the best girlfriend anyone could ask for, you know.” 

Lyra chuckles, lacing her fingers through mine. “Am I?” She asks, her cheeks reddening once again. 

“For sure, love,” I say, finally pulling away. “You ready to head out?” 

Lyra nods, pressing one more quick kiss to my cheek. “Sure. Let’s go keep being sappy, except in the park,” she jokes. 

“Perfect,” I agree, still grinning, wider than I have… ever, possibly.

I’ve finally found my person.

[quaxorascal]

Kerryn Ayla & Sydney Liang > elementals

“Hold on tight to fragile hearts.”

(template by @cityandking) (caption under the cut!)

[Images: two rectangular graphics with images and information on two OCs. Each graphic is identical in format, with four sections. The top section has four squares in a solid colour, with a background behind them; the middle left has a picture of a person, with her name written on the left side of the image; the middle right has information about each of the characters in text; and the bottom section has three circles with small images inside.

First graphic features four squares in purple, from a nearly-black dark purple on the left to a lavender on the right. Behind the squares is a pale picture of stars in the sky. The middle left section features a picture of a pale-skinned girl with moles on her skin, from below the eyes to the mid-bust; she is half-covered by a shadow from above. Her dark brown curly hair falls into the frame; it’s a little longer than shoulder-length. She is wearing a black tank top and a thin silver necklace. Her name reads: “Kerryn Ayla.” The bottom of the image features pictures of: black boots standing in the winter snow; hands in knit grey gloves holding a steaming mug of coffee; and purple star-shaped glitter. The information on the middle-right side of the graphic reads as follows:

“Occupation: university student. Element: light. Subset: darkness. Age: 19. MBTI: ENTP. Zodiac: Capricorn. Enneagram: type eight. Trope: Good Is Not Soft. Strength: 2/5. Agility: 5/5. Skill: 3/5. Intelligence: 4/5. Drive: 5/5. Spontaneity: 1/5.”

Second graphic features four squares in blue, from a deep blue on the left to a nearly-white pale blue on the right. Behind the squares is a picture of the sun reflecting on shallow water. The middle left section features a picture of a girl standing in front of a shoreline with waves crashing toward her, with her left arm outstretched; the image cuts off her right arm at the shoulder. She is wearing a white tank top and blue jeans. She has brown skin, and her dark brown hair billows as if caught in strong wind. Her name reads: “Sydney Liang.” The bottom of the image features pictures of: white sneakers splashing in a puddle; a rainbow shining from a waterfall; and a hamburger and some French fries. The information on the middle-right side of the graphic reads as follows:

“Occupation: university student. Element: water. Subset: liquid. Age: 22. MBTI: INFP. Zodiac: Cancer. Enneagram: type seven. Trope: The Anti-Nihilist. Strength: 4/5. Agility: 2/5. Skill: 4/5. Intelligence: 3/5. Drive: 3/5. Spontaneity: 5/5.”

/end description]

[koala-soap]

Content In Your Presence

Chapter Three

Pairing  Foreign Reader X Japanese Shouto Todoroki

Summary  Moving to Japan seemed like the only option left open to you, to escape your rapidly increasing problems that latched themselves onto your life back in Australia. As if to cut it off, wipe everything off the table, and have some sort of a new start for yourself, despite the guilt that stuck to you like rust. Through getting lost at airports, loosing luggage and being surrounded by a foreign language, moving to Japan managed to weasel it’s way into being the best decision of your life, thanks to someone you met on the balcony next to you: a sweetheart called Shouto Todoroki.

A lovely story about a foreigner falling in love with a Japanese sweet heart, and all your adventures and mishaps together.

。。。。

With it now being your second official day in the county of Japan, it made you glad to have some sort of responsibility to busy yourself with; give yourself the feeling of being productive, rather than sitting in your small apartment slurping on roasting hot noodles from a cheap plastic cup bought from a petrol station. For the next three weeks, you were had a small and simple job, and that was to water that nice old lady’s plants every weekend during her absence.

Having no clue on how to tend to flowers or any type of plant didn’t stop you though, and having this quaint little responsibility beat ending up working long shifts in a dull super market or a little sweaty fast food place crammed with oil and fat fingers. This way, you got to help someone out and have cool breeze in your face.

But that’s enough of that, because as of now, you stood at the end of what seemed like a maze of numbers, welcome mats and corridors. Just earlier, you had set off on a mission following the bright blue line on your phone guiding you to the address, and now that the short elevator ride was over, it was time to find the correct numbered door.

Your phone now sat snug in the tight pockets of your jeans, as concentrated eyes swayed from either side of the hallway, in search of a two digit number that kept repeating in your mind.

After a minute of wandering past countless doors neighbored with mats and boots and even small plants by them, a door with the number ‘38’ etched into it’s golden plate popped up on your right. Like a switch being turned on, the rigorous eyes on your face lit up like that of a Christmas tree covered in shining tinsel; and just like was planned, a cold metal key was left lying lonely under the scratchy welcome mat for you to let yourself inside.

It slid smoothly into the lock, and the door had slowly opened up to a colorful apartment inside. Unlike your own, there were colors all around. The couches that first greeted you when you entered had multiple knitted blankets flopped over their sides, bright tins of various cooking ingredients lined up against the kitchen counter, and strings of rainbow beads draped down in front of the sliding door opening up to the giant city outside. There was also a smell of soothing incense singing around in the air.

“ Dude, my apartment sucks. ” You mused to yourself with a chuckle.

The air outside was crisp and refreshing, the large green watering can in your hands quickly filling with water sprouting from the hose on the wall.

The white cap that hugged your hair kept the sun’s warm rays out the way, and only when the can was half-way filled did you rotate the creaky tap and attempt to pick it up. Water sloshed around inside and rounded out the top onto your slippery hands, trickling like a gentle shower head over the tiny succulents shortly after. Your strained hands held the water source over each plant pot, with greedy soil who slurped every drop up into its dry dirt.

Once all were happy and watered, the dripping green can sat happily in its spot by the coiled hose, and your hands rested on your hips to admire the view in front of you. However, once your wet hand reached up and around the back door’s handle to pull it back, it made you skin grow cold despite the shining sun when it laughed in your face that it was indeed… locked.

“ Oh, come on, please, no.” It ignored your desperate plead and sat smugly closed in its place. Whimpering and with eyebrows screwed together in exhausted worry, you gently placed your head against the cold glass. “ Am I supposed to sleep out here? Like, c'mon…”

After tugging on it, thinking it may just be jammed, you realized it certainly was not. You stood staring at the furniture mocking you from inside also, rapidly going through your options. Fujiko was away for the entire weekend, hence why you were here in the first place, and climbing down was only a job for super heroes since you were on the fourth floor. You couldn’t call the apartment’s reception either, since it was abandoned for the weekend.

Once the panic settled in, you were left to sit on the balcony floor waiting for god to answer your prayers for the door to just magically open. The sight of the neighbor’s matching sliding door caught your eye, and you peeped through the thin black railing and thought about asking them for help.

Being the positive soul you were, you decided to give it a go. So long as they were home and weren’t an axe murderer, what could go wrong?

A small sigh filtered out your nose to prepare yourself with whatever was about to happen, but it really was the only thing that you could do in this situation; calling the fire department sounded a bit too dramatic to you, and Fujiko was over two hours away enjoying time with her kids and grandchildren.

Your wet hand gripped onto the thin railing and you looked over to the matching balcony just in front of you, pondering how to get their attention without being excessively loud.

Your body strained to stretch as far over the railing to swerve your eyes past the door blocking your view, one thong covered foot lifting slightly off the tiles. When a sudden noise busted through your concentration, it was a quick struggle to not fall over the side and onto the busy streets below.

Flinging your head around, you see a young male stepping out his sliding door with a concerned but unsure look on his sleepy face, a hand flicking rouge strands of bed hair from it. The stranger was still clearly in pajamas from the baggy shirt and shorts, but his lively eyes suggested he’d been awake for a while.

He eyed your strange situation. “ ねえ。。だ。。だいじょぶ です か？[ Hey.. Uh.. Are you okay ? ] ”

“ はい、 はい、だいじょぶ。[ Yeah, Yeah, I’m fine. ] ” Once you popped your cap off, ruffling the hair off your sweaty forehead was a relief. An uncontrollable fit of nervous laughter jumped from your lips, and out of nervous habit, scratched the tips of your sweaty ears. You really didn’t like speaking Japanese to native people, in fear of them judging you. A wave of English words gushed through your mind, and you realized your vocabulary wasn’t good enough to explain yourself.

“ しょくぶ�� に 、あの。。[ I’m here to.. water.. plants and uh… ] ” Your eyebrows sank together, and your hands waved about in circles to think of words. His gentle eyes follow your finger to the glass door. “ たちおうじょう [ Stuck . ] ”

Despite his empathetic gaze, you giggled relentlessly with unimaginable embarrassment at yourself with a hand clamped over your mouth. He’s silent for a few moments, eyes internally arguing over a decision before saying with only an impressively small amount of an accent, “ Do you speak English ? ”

The sheer look of absolute shock slapped into you was honestly priceless, and for a measly second, the strained laughing ceased for a second from behind your hand. It was as if the cogs in your brain had come to a complete stop and malfunctioned right in front of his eyes, and shocked eyes stared at him for a while, though clearly impressed. Just like your own, a very faint chuckle of nervousness left him. The hand on your face quickly shot down, and your eyebrows arched up to make your smile naturally kind as can be. “ Yeah! Oh my god, that was so strange, your English is so good! ”

The stranger’s eyes scrunched to make way for his shy smile. The beginning of your excited outburst was a little too fast for him to understand, but he got the end. “ Thank you. Were you saying the door is… stuck? ” The small pause he took was for him to shift through various English words until he landed on the correct one.

Two delicate hands placed the white hat back on your hair, and you giggled again when thinking of your horrible attempt of communication earlier. “ The key’s inside and I locked myself out here… Rookie mistake, I know. ” You chuckled.

“ Ah.. ” He nodded knowingly while his brain whirred about inside to try remember what 'rookie’ meant, but found nothing. The rest made sense to the stranger, anyhow. “ Okay, uh… hm. ” He seemed stuck for what to do as well, just as you were.

Fiddling with the tip of your left ear, face scrunched in thought and you looked at the handle. “ Can we pick it ? Or is that just in the movies ? ”

He puffed out a breathy chuckle, and scratched his head. “ Maybe.. You have uh.. それ なんだった？[ What was it? ] ” Quiet Japanese mumbling made his eyebrows furrow, and then pop up when he got the word and made a motion with his fingers to show what he meant. “ A pin ? Bobby pin? ”

You shook your head with a face full of apologetic guilt. The young man lent back to peer into his house and said, “ Hang on. ” Before hopping inside and making a bunch of thudding sounds.

He reappeared with a small grey box resting in large hands, patches missing reflective metal from being scratched off with what seemed like age. It clanged with tools inside, and he crouched down to open it on the floor of the tiled balcony. Things clanged against each other, until a small and thin metal tool that slightly resembled tweezers lifted out in his hand. “ I’m pretty sure this open locks… I promise I’m not a part time burglar, though. ” He smiles, and grunts to stand back up.

“ I’ll take your word for it. ” You joke back, and he quickly reaches a hand past his door to grab a screwdriver from a cabinet. “ Are you a mechanic or something? You have so many tools. ”

He quietly chuckles for a second with the tools in his hand. “ No, I’m not that cool. I’m studying to be a doctor. I just have them for convi- convin- convinience ? ”

You reassured him of his English with a nod paired with kind eyes, and he smiled shyly. “ Now how should we do this ? ”

Agreeing to letting him hand over the tools for you to try was apparently a big mistake, because even after a while of him leaning over the railing to observe your confused fiddling and directing you, the lock still remained stuck in its place. The pieces of metal in your fiddly fingers wiggled around inside the key hole, and were lifted or twisted depending on what the kind stranger told you to do. It remained hopeless though, and you stood defeated with the lock laughing at you.

“ This is so freaking hard. ” You mumbled mostly to yourself, tongue stuck out to assist in balancing the tools in the intricate place you had them.

“ Would like me to help? It’s fine. ” He offered, and soon enough, Shouto found himself hanging off the edge of his balcony railing, one hand in yours for balance as his leg reached out for the neighboring railing with his butt sat uncomfortably on his. The gap was only about half a meter wide, but the rock hard concrete and racing cars beckoned his body to fall.

The second foot with a large sandle weakly hanging from it leaped from the metal underneath it, and with a few stumbles, the tall man had succesfully made it to the other balcony with all four limbs. You let his hand go, and winced when you caught a glimpse of the busy streets below.

“ You okay ? ” A voice couldn’t sound more worried than yours, but the stranger simply kicked his dad sandles off and sighed out all the suspense that grew inside him.

A confident nod made your nerves ease themselves. “ Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. ” He panted heavily and switched from the gap he just leaped across to the shaken young lady in front of him again. “ Easy peasy lemon squeazy. ”

You snorted, and soon both got back to opening the stubborn door.

“ 愚かなロック。。[ C'mon, you stupid lock.. ] ” It was after five minutes that both of you realized he wasn’t much better than you. He did manage to get something in the lock to click, so whatever that was was hopeful. The man currently stood hunched over, hair flopped anywhere it desired, hands delicately twisting the tools with the tip of his tongue poking out. The screwdriver was angled ever so perfectly, and the other tool was twisted to the left carefully. Both you and him jumped at the sound of a rather loud click coming from inside the door, and he decided to risk it and put his hand around the handle.

He pulled on it, and it slid along the hinges to reveal the prize inside. Shouto sighed with exhaustion and grinned with triumph; you were jumping around excitedly.

A tsunami of relief crashed down onto you, so much so you could melt and cry. This generous stranger had just wasted forty minutes and jumped a balcony for you, and now you wouldn’t have to sleep out there for two days. “ Yes! Oh god, you did it! Thank you so much! ”

He nodded, just as triumphed as you. “ No problem, my morning was rather boring to begin with. ” He breathlessly chuckled. “ Now I can say I jumped a balcony. ”

“ You sure can, my god. ” You laughed as well, “ I’m [______] by the way. ”

You both shared a chuckle over the fact you were just doing this now, after the chaos had happened. The stranger pocketed the tools with grey, oily fingers and said with a heavy accent and smile, “ I’m Todoroki Shouto. ”

[smutbangtan]

Serendipity Part 2

Word Count: 6,189

Summary: Jimin is intrigued by the human race and you. He has decided to visit earth. He was given a mission and must return when he completes it.

Genre: Supernatural/Angst/Smut

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Trigger Warning: Death

Author’s Note: I told myself two chapters!! Sorry! There will be a third and last chapter. :) 

That night, your dream was different. You were floating through space. You twirled in the air admiring the beautiful galaxies and the stars around you. You were in absolute awe. The mass expanse of space and it’s beautiful stars were overwhelming. In the distance you saw a star, glistening and standing out from the rest. You moved towards it with stretched out arms until your finger touched it’s light briefly. You had to shade your eyes with one hand as you tried to grab it because it was so bright. You wanted it to badly. It was beautiful with an aura of rainbows. For some reason, the only thing you wanted in the universe was that star. You jumped up and grabbed it with both hands and clutched it tight to your chest. You moved into a fetal position as you floated and kept the star close to your heart as you closed your eyes with feeling of warmth surrounding you.

***** 

You fluttered your eyes open and looked up at the ceiling. You took in a deep breath and felt a little lighter than usual after the strange dream. You moved under the blankets till you laid on your side to stare at the opened window. It was Sunday and you didn’t have anything planned. You figured you could go buy some groceries since you just got paid from work last night. You realized that you hadn’t bought anything for yourself in so long. Not a piece of clothing, or even a tube of lipstick from the drug store like you used to. Today, the day seemed hopeful until a sudden weight hit you about your car situation. It then reminded you of yesterday and your anniversary. You closed your eyes shut, pushing back the waves of grief that always consumes you whenever you remember. 

You moved about the house, doing a general cleaning then made yourself a simple breakfast. Once you finished you sat there on the table with your knee drawn up to your chest and sipping on some herbal tea. You thought about your car and how it needed replacing. You didn’t have the money to fix it and you definitely didn’t have the money to replace it. You lived almost pay check to pay check when it came to your expenses. You didn’t have any of these money problems when there were two people earning an income. You remembered Jimin and the time you spent with him yesterday. It made you feel a little less lonely, knowing you had at least someone close by if something went wrong. You were grateful that he helped you yesterday. You then remembered how he’d offer to help fix your car today. You hoped that he’ll be able to fix it. Just as you were thinking of your neighbour, you heard a knock on your door. You placed your cup of tea down and stood up, making your way towards the door. You looked down at your attire and figured it was appropriate since you were only wearing your PJ pants and an oversized shirt. You reached up to your hair and felt your messy bun and thought maybe you should let it down. You then blinked and realized ‘since when did you start caring about your appearance around another guy?’ you left your hair as it is and opened the door to see Jimin with his hands in his pockets. He wore white shirt which was tucked at the front of his blue jeans. You did a quick glance at his feet, only to find him wearing shoes this time. “Hey!” He said with a soft smile. “Hey, err. Come inside” You moved to the side and allowed him in. “So, I promised to have a look at your car today, and since I have no idea about cars I’ll try my best” He was cheery. He turned around and looked at you with a reassuring smile. You were heading to the kitchen bench and grabbed your keys as he spoke, once you turned around you smiled briefly at him. “Honestly, even just trying would mean a lot of help” You said with a smile. Jimin clapped his hands enthusiastically and rubbed them “Okay great! I only have two items” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a screwdriver and a spanner. “It’s the only things I have, but I figured it’s the essentials” You chuckled then handed him the keys. “Do you need me to come with you?” Jimin shook his head “Nah, I’ll give it a shot.” He smiled brightly with his moon eyes. He took the keys and twirled it once on his finger before heading back towards the door and leaving. You stood there once he left and stared at the door. You bitt your lip nervously, you weren’t sure if it was because he might make the car situation worse when he admitted that he had no idea about cars or because you cared about your appearance for another man just now. You figured you should change anyway since it was almost midday. You wore a pair of jeans and a tank top. You kept your hair in a bun since it needed a wash later. You searched for Bubbles and found her sleeping in her bed again and noticed she hadn’t ate her food. You petted her a few times and picked her up and moved her to her food bowl and water so she could eat before she slept for the rest of the day. Thirty minutes hadn’t passed till you heard knocking on your door again. You frowned a little, confused as to why Jimin would be back so quick unless he was able to fix it easily. You made your way across and opened the door to see Jimin standing there with messy blonde hair, grease smeared all over his white shirt and some of his face. “So, I tried, but I think it’s too far gone” said Jimin as he rubbed his forward with the back of his wrist. “Jimin your shirt!” You gasped. You stepped to the side and let him inside again and watched him stand there trying to get the grease off his pale hands. “Yeah, your car is kind of old with a lot of grease, and I mean a lot” he chuckled. You sighed, not finding his joke funny. If Jimin couldn’t fix your car, it meant you had to use public transport which then meant you had to get up an hour earlier for work. You closed your eyes briefly, feeling heavy in the chest again but you opened your eyes and pointed to his shirt, trying to push back the uneasiness. “I’m sorry about your shirt, I hope it wasn’t expensive. At least let me wash it for you.” You said seriously with knitted brows. Jimin looked down at his shirt as though noticing the stain for the first time and rubbed his greasy fingers down on it “Oh, not it’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be able to wash off the grease” He poked one of the smears and rubbed the grease between two fingers “It can’t be that hard” He looked up with his blue eyes first then smiled at you. “Actually, it’s quite hard. I’ll wash it for you. It’s the least I could do” you said with a blank face. You turned and headed to the spare room as you spoke “I may have a spare shirt for you.” Jimin could hear you rummage through some boxes then watched you walk back with a similar looking shirt in your hands. You handed it to him with a stretched arm a small smile on your face as you stared at him “Give me the shirt, there’s actually a special way to get rid of it” Jimin was reluctant at first but took the spare shirt into his hand “Was it your husbands?” he asked softly.  Jimin knew the moment he asked the question that it was too personal, but he needed to ask. He stared down at the shirt in his hands. You pursed your lips into a thin line then nodded “Yeah, I was meant to throw his clothes away a while ago, I just never came around to it. Or..” You paused “Had the heart too” You smiled reassuringly. “You seemed to know a lot about grease” Said Jimin as he placed the new shirt down on the table next to him and reached for hem of his own and pulled it off his body and over his head. Your eyes widened a little at Jimin’s sudden action. You had a quick glimpse of his chest before your turned your head away and cleared your throat. “Err, well my husband worked in the industrial section in factories. He was an engineer and oversaw major machinery. He never touched it, but he always seemed to have grease on him whenever he came home. It was annoying in fact.” You smiled to yourself at the thought of always complaining about washing his clothes. You looked back again and Jimin was now wearing your husband’s shirt. You stared at the shirt and remembered how your husband looked in it. You lifted your eyes slowly but saw Jimin’s face instead staring back at you with a slight frown. “You still have grease on your face” You said suddenly to cut the tension in the air. You quickly reached out and took the shirt from his dirty hands and headed to the laundry sink. “Y/N? Are you okay?” Jimin followed behind you slowly and stood in the doorway. He could feel that talking about your husband was bringing back old memories again. “Yes” you lied, but you covered yourself by explaining something that was bothering you instead. “I’m just worried how I’ll get to work. It’s going to be annoying getting up extra early but I think I’ll manage” you added with a sigh. Jimin watched the back of you, he saw your shoulders move as you soaked his shirt in water. You quickly reached up and pulled out bar of soap from the top cupboard and turned around to face him. “Here” you said bluntly. Jimin lowered his blue eyes and saw a grey bar of soap. It looked a lot textured than a normal one, a lot grainier. “This would get rid of the grease on your hands” You smiled as Jimin slowly took the item. He examined it briefly then followed you back into the main area. “Thank you for trying though, I really appreciate it”  You made yourself towards the door and held it open for him. Jimin nodded and headed out. He turned around and faced you “If you need me to take you anywhere for errands, just ask away okay?” You bit your lip, because you actually did need to do grocery shopping for the week. You didn’t want to ask him, you didn’t want to be a burden on him again. It would be the third time to ask him to do something for you when he’d never needed your help at all. Now you started to feel pathetic. You needed his help, you didn’t have anyone else. And that even made you feel worse. “Actually..” You began. Jimin was about to turn around but stood in place with only one hand on his door handle. “What is it?” Jimin furrowed his brows. “I need to do grocery shopping for the week” You said it quickly, feeling so embarrassed. Jimin faced you fully now. “So do I, I’ll just quickly wash my hands and face. Meet you in the hallway in five?” You nodded slow in response. “Great, I’ll be back” Jimin smiled then went inside his apartment. You suddenly shut the door and exhaled deeply. You thought to yourself ‘it wasn’t that hard to ask for help’. *** Jimin decided to take a different route and head to a another part of town where the major shopping marts were. It had been a very long time since you shopped there since you wanted to stay local and not venture out after the death of your husband. You always kept to your usual route. You had no need to go anywhere else. But you didn’t mention this to Jimin, since he was the driver. The conversation you had with Jimin at was mostly about your work and how boring it was. You mentioned that it payed the bills but that’s about it. “So where do you hang out with your friends?” asked Jimin as he paid attention to the road. You looked away and stared at the window as you clutched onto your bag on your lap. “Oh, I don’t have any friends” You said bluntly. That, you weren’t ashamed of. You were the reason of being friendless. After the funeral, you had the support of your friends and family but only for a while, after that however you pushed them away. You would still get a text once a while from a friend but that’s all. You had an occasion invite for dinner but you’d refuse. Mainly because now you didn’t have the money to fine dine like you used to. Jimin snapped his head to your direction once you answered with an arched a brow. “Surely you have friend’s Y/N” he said softly. You had your head resting on the window while watching the buildings. You hadn’t noticed Jimin staring at you as he stopped at a red light. “Not really no” You said honestly. You then moved your head in his direction and gave him a smile “I do have one now though” Jimin eyes widened slightly then chuckled at your words “I thought we were already friends, but I’m glad that we are” **** You and Jimin walked along the same aisles as you gathered your essentials. You picked the cheapest labels, the ones you were used to getting which saved you money. In your cart already had a loaf of bread, milk, eggs and some other small items that would last you for a week. After a while you noticed that Jimin’s cart had odd items in it, like a jar of black olives, oven mittens and block of cheese. You also noticed that he didn’t really examine the item he chose off the shelf. He’d just pick it up and place is it in the trolley. You then realized that he lied about needing to get shopping, only to make you feel less ashamed of asking for help. You smiled to yourself when you thought of Jimin being so considerate. Both of you stood in front of a row of different pasta sauces while you explained to him the process of making sauce from scratch. Jimin was leaning forward on his trolley handle with his elbows and listening carefully until the conversation was interrupted. “Y/N?” said a female voice. Jimin was the first to stand up straight and stare at the stranger, since she stood behind you. You slowly turned around after hearing your name and saw someone you knew from a while back. “Oh my god it is you!” The woman placed her shopping basket on the ground and walked over, wrapping her arms around you into a big hug. You blinked at the sudden contact and stood there as she drew back, placing her hands on your shoulders and examining you with a bright smile. “Hi Lisa, it’s been a while” you said softly. You quickly darted your eyes at Jimin and saw him staring at the both of you. You looked back and started to feel uncomfortable being seen by someone from the past. “It sure has! You look great! I always text you but you rarely reply” Lisa slapped your arm playfully and pouted. “I know it’s been hard for you, but you seriously need to come hang out with us girls” You pursed your lips tightly then swallowed, feeling hesitant. “Um, I’m just really busy with work and all. It’s been tough” You looked back at Jimin who was now standing and looking at the different jars of pasta sauce, pretending not to listen into the conversation. “I’ve come quickly to grab a few things actually. We’re having a family lunch right now and my brother and I need to get some last-minute things. He’s here somewhere” Lisa lifted her head to look over your shoulder, then around searching for her brother. She noticed Jimin standing next to you and arched a brow “Oh, who’s this? A friend of yours?” Now you really wanted to run away from this stupid place. You felt embarrassed. Not because you were with Jimin. But you were afraid with what people would think of you. Here you were shopping with another male when you only been widowed for just over a year. You didn’t want people to think the grief for your husband has waned. “This is Jimin, my new neighbour. I’m having some car issues right now and he was happy to help” You justified yourself quickly hoping it would suffice. Your throat felt dry. Lisa leaned past your shoulders and waved at Jimin. Jimin turned and smiled with his hand stretched out, to shake her hand. They did once then Lisa smiled back at you. She rested a hand on your arm and smiled softly “We’re having a get together to watch that new film ‘Anabelle resurrection’ next Saturday night. I wanted it to be a girl’s night out, get away from the kids you know?” She sighed then continued “But my husband wanted to come along. So, the rest of the girls are bringing their partners too” Your eyes widened when you heard the word ‘partners’ “Oh no, we’re just..” you pointed back and forth from Jimin and yourself “We’re just friends” Lisa smiled reassuringly then at Jimin. She didn’t mean to offend you or Jimin “I know, but I would really like you to come. You can’t ignore me now, I’m standing right in front of you” She grinned. “Hey Y/N” said a male voice. Lisa turned and saw her brother standing behind her with two wine bottles in each hand. Lisa looked annoyed at him “There you are, look who I found” she tilted her head indicated your presence. You recognized that face immediately. You wanted to die right then and there. “Hi Jin” You lowered your eyes and placed a can of whatever it was into your trolley, the one you were fiddling with this whole time. “It’s good seeing you” He smiled briefly then looked at his sister. “I found these two, it was the last ones” Lisa cut him off “Y/N is coming to the movies next week, she hasn’t really said yes but she doesn’t have an option.” Lisa and Jin both turned and looked at you. Jin darted his dark eyes to Jimin. They both locked eyes and Jimin nodded a little as a greeting, which Jin did in return. He turned around and left before saying to you with a smile “Have fun at the movies” You saw the face that Jin made and you started to feel dread forming at the pit of your stomach. You took in a deep breath then let it out as you faked smiled at Lisa. Suddenly, Jimin leaned over past your head with a smirk. “She’d love to go.” He said to her. You darted your head at Jimin then at Lisa who now looked pleased with Jimin’s answer. “Great! I’m buying the tickets online tonight since it’s a new movie. It’ll be book out fast. You can give me the cash on the night” She clasped her hands “And you can come too, I’ll grab your ticket for you” She peered over your shoulder to talk to Jimin. “I’ll see you then! I’m so glad I got to see Y/N” Moments later Lisa left you and Jimin standing in the pasta aisle. You were fuming at this point. You grabbed your trolley and started wheeling is past Jimin who looked confused for a moment. “Don’t do that!” You snapped at him. “Do what?” Jimin asked innocently. He grabbed his own trolley and started following, trying to catch up to your speed. “Don’t speak for me! You don’t have any right too!” You snapped around, peering over your shoulder at Jimin as you wheeled through another aisle and almost pumping into someone. “I’m not ready” You added. “Not ready for what exactly?” Jimin furrowed his brows. He quickened his pace and pushed his trolley till it was next to yours. You were scanning the shelves searching for something with anger written all over your face. “Not ready to watch a movie? It’s just a movie Y/N” He said softly. You stopped and turned and looked at him. Jimin was now standing in front of you, away from his trolley. His blue eyes looked down at yours, scanning your face with knitted brows. “I just.. I just don’t want to be around them right now.” You waved your hand a bit, indicating Lisa and Jin. “Then, when will you? You said you didn’t have any friends. They look like friends to me” He smiled a little. You huffed at his response. Jimin’s friendliness was now becoming annoying. You reached over for your trolley and brushed Jimin’s shoulder harshly and headed to the counter “Take me home” You said bluntly. You paid for your groceries and so did Jimin. Once the items where in the car, you sat inside in silence with arms crossed. Jimin knew you were upset at him, but he figured he wouldn’t speak anymore on the matter. You still needed time. You thanked him for helping you get groceries. Jimin offered with the bags but you didn’t want anything else from him if it meant he’d intervene with your life like that. *** Monday morning came and the day went slow as ever. You caught the bus on your way home and arrived at your apartment later that evening. You unlocked the door and walked through with a groan. Your feet were tired and all you wanted to do was take a hot bath then sleep. You slowly took off your coat and placed it on the hanger then threw your bag on the table as you made your way to your window first, wondering if Bubbles had already left for her nightly stroll. You were about to head to the kitchen when you saw Bubbles cuddled up in her bed. “Oh hey you!” you said with a smile. You made your way to her and petted her once then scratched her chin. You watched her tail but it didn’t move. “Bubbles?” you asked with furrowed brows. You leaned forward, looking worried and petted her slowly and resting your hand on her exposed stomach and felt it rise and fall really slowly. A wave of fear rushed into you. You quickly leaned your face further and flicked her ear to see if she would twitch it, but it didn’t move. “Oh no.” you gasped. Your eyes started to water as panic took over. You gently curled your hands under Bubbles and picked her up, cradling her in your arms as though she was a baby. Her body was limp and her head tilted back. Tears were now streaming down your face. She was barely breathing. You immediately thought of the animal hospital nearby. You slowly placed Bubbles down again and rushed to the kitchen bench to where your keys were. You came to a sudden halt, realizing that your car wasn’t working. “No!” You gasped out with a sob. You moved about, thinking of what you could do. Without even realizing you were already heading out the door and banging on Jimin’s door. “Jimin!... Jimin!” You sobbed with worried eyes. You prayed that he was home. You could hear feet padding it’s way to the door when suddenly the door swung open. Jimin looked at you with widened eyes after seeing you in a crying mess. “It’s..” You tried to gather your words “It’s Bubbles, there’s something wrong with her!” Jimin already had his hands on your shoulders as you spoke, then smoothed them up your neck and cupped your wet cheeks. He looked just as worried as you. He gave your cheeks a quick swipe of your tears with his thumbs then walked past you quickly and into your apartment. He stepped towards Bubbles who was till huddled in a ball. Jimin slowly and gently picked her up and cradled her into his chest. “Do you know where is the nearest hospital?” Asked Jimin seriously as he looked down at the cat. You noddled quickly then replied after wiping your nose with the back of your hand “Yes” “Grab a towel, she needs to go quick” He looked up at you with a frown as he said this. Without hesitation, you rushed to the laundry and grabbed the nearest towel and headed straight for Jimin. He gently lifted Bubbles and you quickly wrapped her up in a towel then held onto her. Her furry face was peeping through the wrapped fabric, but her eyes remained closed. “Let’s go, I’ll grab my keys” He said quickly. You both made your way towards the door. Jimin grabbed your bag and cloak and headed out. *** The drive to the hospital was a silent one with only your sniffs, and directions filling the car. Jimin was the one to head to the reception and talk about the issue. The veterinarian came and took Bubbles from you, mentioning that they would examine her then give you the details after the test results. You and Jimin sat in the waiting room. It was history repeating itself again. Memories started flooding back to when you received a call from your husband’s work about the incident. You remembered waiting in the hospital waiting room. Your chest started to rise and fall, from the memory of sheer shock. Bubbles was the only thing that kept you grounded after losing your husband. She gave you a reason to wake up in the morning. “Y/N?” Jimin said softly. He was watching you. He reached out and cupped over one of your hands as reassurance. You immediately turned your hand around and laced your fingers around his and held tightly to his hand. Jimin only reacted by lifted his free arm and wrapping it around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes as warm tears trailed down your face again. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her Jimin” You said in a croaky voice.   An hour passed and the veterinarian walked through the back doors with a clipboard. You didn’t want to move, you couldn’t move. You didn’t even want to look at the veterinarian’s face. You knew that if you did, your fear would come true. Jimin lowered his head and looked at you, noticing you weren’t moving to meet with the veterinarian so he decided to stand up instead and receive the news for you. When Jimin walked up to her, the veterinarian frowned. She licks her lips briefly then began talking to Jimin in a quiet tone. He quickly looked over at you and saw you sitting there with your hands over your face, smoothing away the tears. “It’s not good. She’s been sick for quite a while” she said softly, then looked at her clipboard. Jimin frowned but remained silent. “She has a lot of cancer cells in her blood and it’s beyond treatment” She sighed. Jimin blinked, not understanding what she meant “But she seemed fine a few days ago” The veterinarian nodded “Ah yes, cats a very good at hiding their pain. It’s now taken a toll on her, she can’t move anymore” Jimin looked over his shoulder and saw you looking hopeful once you locked eyes with him. He turned back around and continued to talk “Is she in pain?” The veterinarian nodded seriously “Very much so. I’m surprised she survived this long to be honest. We can give you the option of letting you take her back and wait for her to pass, but in my opinion I think that’s cruel. We can give euthanize her, if you give us permission of course. The sooner the better” Jimin lowered his head briefly and closed his eyes. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair and gave the veterinarian a nod before turning around and walking back towards you. You remained seated as he arrived. The veterinarian watched the man crouch down before the owner of the pet and speak in a soft voice. She watched the owner gasp out loud and moaned out a ‘no’ as she covered her mouth. She began to sob uncontrollably. She watched as the man reached up and rested his hands on her thighs, reassuring her while she cried. She nodded repeatedly as she wept at the situation, then wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close to her seated body. She dug her face into his neck. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, and rubbed her back slowly letting her settle in the new and sad information. ** “Hey, you little rascal” You sniffed with a smile. Bubble was laying on her side, with her legs stretched out on the examining table. Her eyes remained shut but her stomach moved up and down really slowly. You reached out and smoothed your hand down her soft fur. “Thank you so much for keeping me alive” you sniffed as your eyes teared up again. Jimin stood behind you with a frown, watching you say your last goodbyes before the injection. He listened while you spoke to Bubbles. “Without you, I wouldn’t be here you know?” You smoothed down your hand over her fragile body as you continued to speak, giving her soft pats “Remember that time, when I made you stay at Lisa’s house?” You sniffed. “Well, I did it because I was actually going to do something really bad to myself that night. But then I realized” You voice started to weaken “You needed me, and it wasn’t fair that you were there for me when I felt alone, it was selfish of me to leave you with Lisa and her shitty kids” you laughed once but ended it with a sniff. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on Bubbles jaw. You rested your forehead against hers with closed eyes and whispered “Thank you, I love you Bubbles” Once you stood up again you wiped your eyes and looked at Jimin. “May I?” He asked softly. You nodded then headed out the door to the waiting room, you didn’t want to be present when the injection takes place. You heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. You left Jimin in the room alone, allowing him to say his goodbyes even they only spent brief moments together. Jimin walked slowly to Bubbles and ran his pale fingers over her one of her furry paws. Her paw twitched and Jimin smiled softly, knowing Bubbles reacted to his touch. He leaned in a little and smoothed his hand down her body once again then scratched her chin a little. Bubbles moved a briefly then opened her eyes, to look at him. “You’re in pain, I know.” He said gently then pecked her forehead with a kiss. “You’ve been so strong for her. You kept her alive this whole time, but it’s time for you to go sweetie” Bubbles ‘meowed’ a little and Jimin chuckled a little “Your just as stubborn as your mother”. Bubbles lifted a paw and pressed it on Jimin’s pale cheek. “She’ll be taken care of, I’ll make sure of that” Jimin lifted his hand and held onto her paw, giving it a quick peck and a soft squeeze as reassurance. Once Jimin finished speaking, Bubble’s paw slowly lowered as her eyes rolled back to a close and passed away. Jimin shut his blue eyes. He had a sudden feeling of grief. He never felt this emotion before and it consumed him. He felt his eyes stinging. He reached up and touched his own eyes then looked at his fingers, seeing it wet. This was the feeling of loss. **** The car ride home was eerily silent. Now and then you would sniff and wipe your eyes as you watched the buildings pass you by. Jimin informed you before leaving the hospital that Bubbles passed away naturally. That, somehow gave you little comfort, knowing that Bubbles didn’t need a chemical induced death. But grief was grief, regardless of the death and it still consumed you. Jimin kindly enough took care of the papers and the hospital bill before heading home. Your mind was numb when he informed you about cremation. Knowing that no one was waiting for you at home made you feel lonely. You were truly alone now and nothing could fix it. Jimin had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was stretched out, coming his fingers down your hair reassuringly then held onto your hand. He looked over in your direction a few times to make sure you were okay. He didn’t want to say anything, he didn’t know what to say. He knew no amount of comforting words would make you feel less pain. He felt it too. It felt like a heavy rock at the pit of his stomach and tightening of the chest. He could only imagine what you would be feeling right now. Once Jimin parked the car, you opened the car door and headed towards the building. You had your cloak draped over an arm and your bag dangling off a shoulder. You stood in front of your door and slowly rummaged through our bag for the apartment keys. Your eyes stung from all the crying and your vision started to blur again as you searched for your keys. After finding it, you tried to jam the key in with shaking hands but the strength wasn’t there. Slowly, you saw pale hands wrap around your own and helped you open the door. A sense of relief was felt, knowing Jimin was there. As you stepped in, Jimin silently took your belongings and placed them on the table. He kept his distance as you were about to head to your room but suddenly turned around. Jimin was making his way back to the front door. “Jimin?” you said softly. “Yeah?” “I..” You started but began sobbing again. “I don’t want to be alone” You covered your face as you cried. Jimin closed the door quickly and made his way towards you, wrapping you into his embrace. He placed his chin on the top of your head and closed your eyes, letting you cry everything out. He gently ‘shushed’ you in a calming voice then spoke. “Of course, I’ll stay. As long as you need Y/N” Jimin felt the weight of your body and knew you were tired. Both of you moved towards the bedroom. You felt exhausted at this point. Your eyes burned and your face felt hot. Jimin silently moved the bed covers for you. You kicked off your shoes and slipped into your blankets. Jimin copied you and laid down next to you then brought up the sheets, enveloping you both in body heat. You curled into your side and placed your arm across Jimin’s chest with your face buried into his neck. He welcomed this position and held you in his embrace. Jimin closed his eyes and felt your body move as you silently sobbed in the dark. He could feel the wetness of your tears. He could feel the light inside you diminishing. It was already on its last ambers. The loss of Bubbles was now a turning point for you and he could feel it. Jimin stared up at the ceiling as he thought of you. He needed to do something. His access was limited and he could only choose wisely when to use it. He closed his blue eyes and took in a deep breath then exhaled softly. Slowly, a warm aura radiated from his body and blanketed over yours. It wasn’t visible but it’s effect was. The aura was positive energy and hope. Jimin turned his head and looked at your face closely. Your eyes were closed and it was tight with knitted brows as you frowned with hot tears. Slowly and subtlety your face softened and your sobbing stopped. Your body relaxed beside him then you drifted into a deep sleep. Jimin continued to stare at you. He scanned your features and took in every detail of you. This feeling that was buried deep, now started to emerge. He wanted to be with you, he wanted to protect you and fight any obstacle that came your way. He lifted his hand and traced the outlines of your lips then face while he thought of you. Moments later, he too fell asleep.

[whatiwore]

Cultivating Your Personal Style | Shopping

Now that I’ve created a mood board with ideas that inspire me and checked out what I already have in my closet, I can plan for how I’ll budget out and shop this fall. Before we dig into that - a little side story. Let’s stroll down memory lane a bit, shall we?

I’ve always love planning and shopping for fall clothes and it’s something I enjoyed with my mom when I was growing up. Each year before school started, we’d tour the mall and do pre-shopping. I’d make a list of what I liked, how much it cost and then determined what would fit into my budget. I’d have to get fall shoes/boots and a coat in there too, so it made me into a smart little shopper. We’d also hit up the fabric store to find coordinating fabrics for things like skirts (which are so easy to make!). The best part was laying out everything we’d bought on the living room floor and mixing and matching outfits. I’d put on a little fashion show for my mom by trying each one on and she’d say “oh Jessica! I love that one!” It’s such a fun memory I have with my mom and it’s really influenced the way I think about shopping now. 

Bonus Fun Fact! I wrote down everything I wore during my entire Junior and Senior year in my planner with a system for repeating outfits. Is What I Wore the blog any surprise? 

Without further ado, here’s how I’m looking at my closet for this fall. I know I have my basics covered and I’m bad at adding tops, so that’s the first category I’m trying to focus on. 

Tops

Navy and Hunter Green Sweater You’ll see this in an outfit post tomorrow. It feels slightly nostalgic, almost old school collegiate, but could be modern too with a pair of jeans. I really like the light weight yarn and it’s not too expensive either. Currently out of stock but I bet they’ll do a re-order! 

Aqua and White Short Sleeved Sweater This definitely feels vintage and I like the colors that will be really cute with dark denim or the spice tones I’m really liking this year. On sale for $24.99

Pink Vacation Tee If I’m honest with myself, I do wear a lot of tee shirts when I’m doing my stay-at-home-mom thing, so it’s worth it to me to get something cute. I have nothing in this shade of pink and again, I think it’ll be cute with denim or rust.

Rainbow Indiana Tee I don’t have a photo of the actual shirt I’m waiting on at a local store, but it’s kind of like this one. Will be so cool with high waisted anything!

Navy Eyelet Top This is more of a transitional piece (which I bet will be on sale soon!) but for me it checks all of the boxes for what I’m drawn to these days. The navy eyelet is a nice alternative to the white eyelet I have so much of and I think it’ll be a great spring/summer/vacation blouse for years to come.

Spice Toned Suede Jacket This sort of fills my need for both my tops and color categories. It’s going to layer over just about everything this fall, so don’t be surprised if you see it multiple times per week! It looks like the version I’ve bought is sold out, but here’s one that’s similar. 

Navy on Navy Polka Dot Blouse One of my recent sewing projects that looks great with jeans and will layer well under fall jackets.

Striped Sweater I’m working on knitting a striped sweater that has all of the colors I really love this season. Stay tuned on this one!

Dresses

White Printed Sundress Although this one is white, it has a lot of cute potential during cooler months layered over a black turtleneck and black tights. I got it on super sale too! Here’s the closet version I could find (both are from Old Navy)

Free People Dress On the more expensive end of the spectrum is the faded red floral number that I bought last month (and exchanged for a size up! It really does run small around the ribs). Again - it checks many boxes and will be wearable year round.

Bottoms

I’ve been doing a lot of thrift shopping and sewing for my bottom pieces, so I don’t have links or photos, but I’ll tell you about them anyway!

I made this pair of high waisted jeans and I will use the pattern to make a duplicate pair in a burnt orange fabric and a skinny leg option in rigid cone denim.

I’ve thrifted two leather skirts (one of which you’ll see on the blog tomorrow) - one fluted lighter weight leather and the other a suede mini.

A vintage chambray wool skirt (potentially will be shortened into a mini) and a polka dot wrap midi skirt round out my latest finds.

Accessories

I’m really digging these sunglasses I got for $12! Hello 1978!

I am so excited about getting dressed this fall. I’ve got a renewed appreciation for my body and get to wear some of my old clothes again. Sewing and knitting make me so happy so incorporating my self made pieces keeps me feeling creative as well. 

What’s your fall vibe? Are you thrifting, making or investing in anything special? Share with me on my Instagram page!

Here’s Part I | Gathering Inspiration and Part II | Maximizing Your Current Closet.

[offpier33]

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[kat2609]

Need a Little Christmas (1/most likely 3) - A GFSS fic

SANDRA!!!!! You must have guessed it was me who was so super late at posting your GFSS present. I tried so hard to be timely but life and muses and holidays conspired to make that impossible. But finally the first part of your gift, my lovely @laschatzi - a bit of banter, a bit of humour (I hope), some silly outfits and hopefully a tiny bit in the gutter direction eventually :-) 

(PS - I had a go at the world’s simplest heading banner thingy. The visuals helped in writing, hopefully they will help in reading too!)

Need a Little Christmas

There were a number of things that Emma Swan did not enjoy about Christmas.

Untangling herself from the myriad of fairy lights her sister-in-law insisted on stringing across her apartment; finding new and unusual places to hide slices of Granny’s rock-hard fruitcake; avoiding handsy Uncle Leroy any time she found herself under the mistletoe.

There was, however, one notable exception...not that she would ever, ever admit it.

As far as her friends were concerned, Emma’s choice of Christmas wear was 100% a political statement on the ridiculousness of holiday consumerism, or the wasteful nature of Christmas decorations or whatever other tenuous link to a cause she was able to create on the spur of the moment.

In reality, however - Emma Swan loved the kitschy glory of a truly awful Christmas sweater. Adored the scratchy feel of acrylic, the garish reds and greens accented with the tackiest of tinsels. It was everything that she wanted to think of Christmas as being - fun and whimsical and joyful - and everything her actual memories were not.

But somehow, regaling the gathered Christmas crowd with sad tales of your childhood in the foster care system did nothing for the ambience around the dinner table - so half assed political statements it was.

Tonight’s offering was particularly spectacular, if she said so herself; an especially potent shade of green, offset with clashing red patterns and finished with a dainty Peter Pan collar, embroidered with holly. Only a tiny sliver of garish green had alerted her to its presence - but that was all it took for Emma to know she had found a prize. The internet was awash with ugly sweaters these days, she knew, but there was something about the hunt, the methodical search and recover operation of finding the perfect item in a thrift store that appealed to Emma’s determined soul. Emma Swan always got her mark - in work and in holiday festivities and that wasn’t about to change because #uglyxmassweater was now a thing.

Throwing aside a collection of hand knitted scarves, she reached for the trophy, only to find herself engaged in a tug of war with a man on the other side of the bin. Tugging the sleeve towards her sharply, he lost his footing, tumbling slightly before letting go of the sweater and steadying himself against the metal cage. Long fingers grasped the metal, a silver ring on his thumb catching her eye as he righted himself.

“Steady on,” he huffed, eyes following the green acrylic as Emma slid it subtly towards herself. “No need to injure a man over a pullover, love. I’m sure you can find one equally as hideous elsewhere.”

Ignoring the unexpected jolt of attraction she felt at the soft cadence of his accent, Emma tangled her fingers in the sleeve of the sweater, staking her claim unequivocally, and raised her eyes defiantly to his. Dark hair framed a pair of stupidly blue eyes, one eyebrow quirked up in question as he stared back. There was the briefest moment when Emma was sure he had heard the tiny catch in her breath as she took in the soft curl of his lip and the dark scruff that covered his jaw - a tiny second of regret that she had come across him here in broad daylight and not in a dive bar late one night where the options for proceeding were far more varied.

But Emma Swan was Emma Swan - and meet-cutes were decidedly NOT a thing she did.

“Yeah, well, possession is nine-tenths, buddy,” she snapped, reeling in the sweater and stuffing it under her arm. “So looks like you’ll be the one looking elsewhere.” She paused, all but daring him to respond. “And I’m not your love.”

Before he could utter another word, she turned on her heels and made for the register, all but throwing five dollars at the unsuspecting cashier in her haste to escape.

~~~**~~~

The near radioactive gleam of Christmas lights left no doubt as to where the evening’s festivities would be taking place. Emma hesitated as she reached to press the doorbell, unsure she wanted to hear which Christmas standard was set to be butchered by the chimes this year. Sighing, she pressed the button.

Good King Wenceslas, it seemed.

She supposed she should be grateful that David answered the door promptly, despite his loud snort of amusement as he greeted her.

“Classy, Em, even for you,” he said as he ushered her inside, taking her coat and hanging it behind the door. “I especially like the way not one of those patterns match.”

She smiled knowingly at David, picking an imaginary fleck of the checkerboard section of her top. “As you should know by now, David,” she replied, “It’s not about matching. It’s about the…” Emma faltered, distracted momentarily by a sudden memory of just how she had come to own this particular item.

“The all-encompassing consumer machine that is holiday festivities?” her brother finished with a grin.

Saved by her own cover story, she thought. “Exactly.”

Following David into the living room, Emma looked around at the assembled crowd. After several years, the actual ugly sweater part of this annual gathering had lost some momentum - in no small part, she suspected to her own loud rants on the futility of the subject - but there were still one or two guests in various degrees of festive finery. Before she could make a frank assessment of just how superior her own sweater was to all the others in attendance, she was enveloped in her sister-in-law’s arms.

“Emma!” Snow cried as she hugged her as tightly as her heavily pregnant belly would allow. She leaned back, taking in Emma’s outfit and giggling, straightening the white collar. “You’ve done it again,” she chuckled, “I think this is the best one yet. And not a natural fibre to be seen I imagine?”

Emma shook her head, unable to keep the hint of pride out of her eyes.

Snow narrowed her eyes at Emma. “For all your anti statements, I sometimes think you secretly love these hideous things,” she said suspiciously. Emma stood her ground, her face neutral as her sister-in-law studied her closely for several minutes. It was a close won battle of wills, but eventually Snow turned away, though with no less suspicion in her eyes.

Somehow her innate hostess sense always won the day - a fact on which Emma relied quite regularly.

“You need a drink,” she said, looking back at Emma over her shoulder as she weaved through the guests, acknowledging this one and that with a look or a soft touch on the arm or shoulder. Emma followed silently, smiling at the odd familiar face, but with none of the social grace of her sister-in-law. As they reached the kitchen, Snow called to her husband. “David! Have you got a drink for Emma?

“Sure thing, honey,” he replied, his smile soft as he met his wife’s eyes. “Let me just get this beer for Killian.” It would be nauseating, Emma thought, if they weren’t so damned perfect about it, but it was times like these her adopted status came sharply into focus. David’s capacity to love and be loved was in stark contrast to her own “love ‘em and leave ‘em” approach to life.

But she was not allowed to ponder her inadequacies for long.

“Oh yes,  Emma,” Snow gushed, her violet eyes twinkling ominously. “We have to introduce you to Killian.”

“You really don’t…” Emma started, but to no avail. Snow had already grasped her by the elbow and maneuvered her towards the end of the counter, with barely a chance to take the beer David thrust at her. Whoever Killian was, he was slouched at the end of the island bench, his back to Emma and Snow as they approached, his form-fitting black jeans enough of a distraction to keep Emma from disappearing into the crowd when Snow wasn’t looking.

He was clearly another of the Christmas sweater set, the bright green of his top unmistakeable for clothing of any other kind despite the way it pulled tight across the breadth of his shoulders - not that Emma noticed - a fact that was confirmed as Snow called his name and the buck-toothed reindeer head that adorned the front came into view.

Emma’s immediate thought was that she finally had some competition...until her eyes scanned up to meet his and her thinking went suddenly somewhere very different.

“Emma Swan, meet Storybrooke Elementary’s newest staff member, Killian Jones,” Snow chirped, clearly so certain some kind of rainbow magic true love flash was about to wash over them she failed to notice the colour drain from Emma’s face.

Or the smirk on Killian’s.

“Ah, but Emma and I have already had the pleasure,” he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving Emma’s face. “And I must say, love, your tactics may have been underhanded, but the whole effect -” he waved a hand at her sweater - “it’s nothing short of spectacular.”

No amount of sheer will could force down the red flush that Emma could feel creeping up her neck as she tried to look anywhere but at her two current companions. She wasn’t sure which was worse - Killian’s amused smile or the curious yet decidedly smug grin on Snow’s face.  

“Well I’m not sure what we’re talking about,” Snow chuckled, “but it sounds like you two have some catching up to do, so I’ll leave you to it. Bye.” She was gone with a twinkle of her fingers and an air of smug self-satisfaction, leaving Emma to stand gaping at the newcomer.

If he had been attractive in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the thrift store, he was quite something else among the twinkly lights and Christmas decorations of Snow and David’s apartment, despite the huge cartoonish reindeer taking up residence on his chest. Flecks of ginger in his beard caught the soft light and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously, giving Emma little doubt he was completely aware of the effect he was having on her.

“Still not your love,” she managed to respond, the harsh edge to her voice a futile attempt to deny the very real urge to launch herself at him; an urge lessened not at all by the way his tongue swept his top lip as he watched her.

And then, unexpectedly, he changed the subject; the heat in his gaze melting into something very different. Something relaxed and open and somehow far more frightening than blown pupils and quickened breaths.

“Well, Swan,” he said, with an easy smile that Emma couldn’t help but return, despite her unease at this sudden change in the temperature of their encounter. “It’s fortuitous you won our battle, it appears. I’d failed to notice that fetching collar and I have some doubt as to whether I could have carried that look off.”

This was new; this casual charm that made Emma feel comfortable and confused all at once. Heat and raw animal attraction she understood, she knew how to scratch that itch and move on. But this? This felt like more than a prelude to a quick fuck against a wall somewhere and that was terrifying in so many ways.

Sarcasm and snark had always proved effective in the past - why should now be any different?

“And you decided a big ugly reindeer would be what? Super masculine?” she said sharply.

Killian chuckled, clearly nonplussed by her abrasive responses. It was a rich, warm sound that made Emma want little more than to hear it again. “I don’t know, Swan. I thought he was rather dashing myself.“

She arched an eyebrow at the word choice and he laughed again. “Sorry?” he said in a tone that suggested he was anything but.

Taking a long swig of her beer, Emma looked across at a Snow and David, both in an animated conversation with a small group of friends. She envied them their natural ability to do that - to melt seamlessly into a group of people and feel at home. Unlike her, always looking for the other person’s angle and making sure she was gone before they inevitably screwed her over.

The fact she was still standing next to a ridiculously attractive man, having a normal conversation with no sign of impending hook up, was some kind of Christmas miracle in itself.

“Swan?” Jolted back to reality by his hand on her arm, Emma realised Killian had been speaking to her.

“Sorry, what?” she said, kicking herself for the stab of disappointment as he withdrew his fingers.

“Just pondering what type of person adds that collar to a pullover that is already such a visual delight.”

She breathed a sigh of relief - they were still in comfortable territory; frivolous, possibly flirty banter about knitwear was doable, especially if she managed to avoid the way his smile lit up his eyes as he looked at her. As long as they were nothing more than two ships passing in the night, there was nothing wrong with enjoying the company of a ridiculously handsome man at least for a little while.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me who added it,” she said, fingering the white fabric at her neck. “But when is a Peter Pan collar ever wrong?”

Emma wasn’t sure what reaction she expected to her challenge - but it was definitely not the flash of pain that she saw in his eyes. It passed in mere seconds, almost too fast to be sure it was real.

“Ah, well, if that is its name, all the more reason it was meant for you rather than myself,” Killian said softly.

Emma scrunched her nose in confusion and he raised the arm that had been hidden from her view, leaning on the countertop. Instead of the long, slender fingers with their heavy silver rings that had rested on her arm only minutes before, this arm ended instead in a silver hook prosthetic.

“Funnily enough, Swan, I have something of an aversion to references to that particular tale these days. A little close to home, you might say.” He chuckled darkly, none of the light and warmth that had drawn her in before evident in the sound. He took a long drag from the neck of his beer, and with nothing she could think of to say, Emma followed suit.

The noises of the party were suddenly very loud in Emma's head, her mind swimming as they stood side by side in silence. Wishing desperately once again for the social skills of her sister-in-law, or even her slightly less tactful brother, the words flew from her mouth before she had considered their potential result.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He laughed drily once again. “Not even a little bit, Swan. And I suspect you have no desire to do so either.”

The squawk of protest died on her lips, the expression on Killian’s face making it clear he had all but seen inside her very thoughts. “Don’t think I didn’t see that moment of panic in your eyes, love. You’re something of an open book.”

“Am I?” Emma asked, unable to keep the genuine curiosity from her voice. Or to curb the tingling sense that he wasn’t being quite truthful when he said he didn’t want to talk.  

“Quite,” Killian replied. “Forced introductions to random strangers, for instance, are not your chosen way to spend an evening.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh. “Are they anyone’s?”

“Typically I’d agree with you, Swan, but I must say tonight I am seeing the appeal.” The catch in her breath was involuntary. If his words weren’t enough to bring her to a halt, the sincerity of his tone certainly was. This was dangerous territory now - too perceptive, too honest, too many feelings she was one hundred percent not going to act on.

There was only one thing for it.

“I think I need another drink. You?” she asked. Denial - denial and alcohol - both viable solutions and potential exit strategies.

She hadn’t counted on Killian Jones.

“I have that covered, love,” he said, reaching under his sweater and extracting a small, silver flask. A practised flick of the thumb had the stopper out and he offered it to her. “After you.”

She sniffed at the neck of the flask before taking a delicate swig. “Is that rum?” she asked, the liquid warming her throat as she passed the flask back to him.

“Aye.”

Emma snorted as Killian took a significantly longer draught. With one eyebrow quirked in question, he looked curiously at her as she held back the urge to chuckle. “Yeah, great job on avoiding the Peter Pan references. Next you’ll tell me you have a ship stashed away somewhere.”

He looked sheepish, passing back the flask and scratching nervously at a spot behind his ear as Emma took another quick sip.

“You do, don’t you?” she said incredulously.

He said nothing, only nodded and drank again from the flask before looping the stopper back into the neck and securing it with the curve of his hook.

“You are not even trying. You may as well get the perm and a twirly moustache and be done with it. In fact, I think I’ll call you Captain from now on…” She trailed off, wondering just how potent that rum had been to loosen her tongue so significantly. Struck suddenly by the insensitivity of her patter, she looked at him cautiously, her teeth worrying her lip between them.

He was grinning.

“Sorry, Killian, I…” she began, but he cut her off.

“No apologies necessary, Swan,” he said quickly. “And I believe you intended to call me Captain?”

Emma laughed, throwing him a mock salute as she leaned back against the counter. They stood in silence for a few minutes - a comfortable silence that was somehow becoming less frightening and more reassuring the longer she spent in his presence.

And that should have been scary enough to send her out the door and into the night.

But instead she stood alongside him, so close their acrylic-clad arms were almost touching, the spark of something that might have been static electricity, and yet might not have been, between them and just let the first thing she thought of break the silence.

As did he.

“I’ve always wanted to go on…”

“Perhaps you’d like to…”

They both stopped, laughed, and gestured for the other to go first...until Emma heard her name called across the room.

David appeared out of nowhere, his phone at his ear as he stepped up to them. Concern on his face, he finished hit the end call button and spoke to Emma. “Fight broke out at the Rabbit Hole,” he said. “Sorry to ask this, but I hope that sweater of yours is up to some police work? Wrangling Will Scarlett might be more than a one man job.”

There was a tinge of regret in her expression as she turned to Killian. “Duty calls, I’m afraid,” she said. “Scarlett had better not damage this sweater, or there will be no Merry Christmas for him.”

Killian grinned. “Feel free to leave it with me, love. I’ll take good care of it.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Emma smoothed her hands across her sweater protectively. “Nice attempt at plundering, pirate, but I’ll take my chances. See you round, Captain.”

There was laughter in his voice as he answered. “I’d imagine so Swan. You’ll be hard to miss if you dress like that on a regular basis.”

She was smiling as she turned and walked away.

[lifewithjessi101]

Summer 2020 Clothing Trends

It’s Summer 2020! Let’s dive into what has been so hot in summer 2020 with clothing!

Oversized Victorian Sleeves

We are throwing it back to the 18th century with this hot summer trend and I am here for it! The oversized shape creates the illusion of a slimmer waist and adds an instant feminine touch to any outfit. Go for that gothic princess look with grey and blacks or opt for softer colors for a more feminine look. Those vintage ‘80s puff sleeves also fall into this trend too. 

Chunky Boots with Feminine Dresses

Grunge is back! But bigger than ever, with the pairing of feminine dresses and chunky boots. This is a ’90s authentic. Don’t be afraid to mix things up and have some fun! This look is an easy way to show off your girly side. Whether you prefer bold patterns, block colors, or a maxi with a cinched waist, pair it with some combat boots and you’ll be ready for anything this summer. 

Pastel Bucket Hats 

Here’s a style trend to block out those sun rays in style. A bucket hat is a cute and trendy accessory that looks amazing during any season. They are also so versatile that you can wear them with about everything. Sweet lemon to a light beige, all the soft shades make for a fantastic complete outfit. 

Faux Leather Jumpsuits and Boilersuits 

This is one summer trend that will elevate your wardrobe. These edgy one-pieces act as a whole outfit from just one garment. They are so versatile that you can rock them at any event this summer. Bring out your inner Barbie with an all-pink getup, or channel a biker-chic aesthetic by keeping it cool in black, the possibilities are endless. 

Square Toed Heels 

Add a twist to the traditional heels we all know and love by opting for a squared toe style. This is also a trend for this summer that I can hop on. This brings all the 2000’s vibes back! This look will still lengthen your legs, but also adds a special touch to your outfit ensemble in a unique way. 

Oversized Chain Necklaces

Back to the accessories department. Gold chain necklaces will never go out of style, but this summer opt for the oversized style to complete your look. Gold accessories compliments any outfit, no matter where you’re headed. You can wear it alone or with a collection of other jewels, and you won’t need anything else. You could even rock it with two or more chains for a dramatic twist. Summer 2020 is all about fun, explore, and play around with a new look! 

Pink and Orange 

If summer was a color it would be happy and fun right? Pink and orange are the summer fun color combo for 2020. These two colors are going to be taking over summer 2020. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this trend just yet. I’m all for bright colors but these together might just be too much for me. 

Sporty Drawstrings

Add a fun gathered effect to your look this summer. Drawstrings can be placed throughout your clothing, whether it be down the side hem, a DIY cropped t-shirt, or around the waist on a dress. I just DIY cropped one of my oversized t-shirts to do this and love it! This trend will definitely be sticking around. 

Bermuda Shorts

Shortie shorts are out ladies! Longs shorts are here to stay this summer. Shorts that hit just above, below, or right at the knee. They can be styled as tight or baggy, and any color of the rainbow.  

Side Cutouts 

Side cutouts never really go out of style for summer. I love this summer trend in dressed of any length, whether it is a maxi, mini, or even a romper. Reformation has taken hold on this summer trend with many of their dresses having side cutouts. Make sure to snag yours before they are sold out. 

Knit Polos 

Move over school uniforms these babies are back! Who doesn’t love the classic polos with horizontal stripes and contrasting collars? Polos have gotten a modern upgrade with the buttons going down a little farther giving that edgy vibe. They also have been cropped to keep that retro but modern style. 

Butter Yellow

What other color screams summer besides yellow? I call this color a sweet ray of sunshine and will definitely be hitting my closet soon. There are so many style options for butter yellow. A cute butter-yellow top with some medium washed denim would be a staple look this summer. 

Split Prints 

Split prints are all the rage this year. From dresses to jeans to swimsuits two different prints are everywhere. But why stop with just two print go from three or four too! 

Bra Top and Matching Bottoms 

Honestly, I wore these in high school before it was even cool. Can you imagine the looks I got in a small town in the middle of nowhere in Illinois! Bras have officially moved up the chain to shirts especially if they coordinate with your bottoms. Shein is the greatest stop to find matching sets. 

Denim Jumpsuits 

These have been around for a hot minute but aren’t going anywhere. This summer trend gives me all the ’70s vibes but I’m here for it. I can’t wait to get my hands on one! 

Halter Tops 

Guess who's back! The 2000s are coming back in the summer of 2020. I remember having so many halter tops when I was little. The one bad drawback about halter tops… strapless bras. 

Chartreuse 

This color might be controversial but it’s coming in hot for summer 2020. I never saw why chartreuse got a bad reputation. I love the color. It’s so simple to pair with and is so happy and bright. That’s what summer is all about right? 

Which look are you wanting to recreate this summer? As always be sure to follow along on all my social media platforms to see into my everyday life. From daily insta story vlogs, OOTDs, thrifting trips, travel adventures, and of course baby Pumkin. I can’t wait to get to know you all more through this fun blogging adventure. Laters babes!