#and the dress she's wearing is a ruffled slip which was also popular in the 50s!!

[aether-weather]

first, i love your art!!! sm!!!!!!1!! second, if u still have requests open, baby shado. just baby shado. with maria if possible but. creature. little thingy stupid 1 feet tall pickle baby shado

AAHH HIII TYSMMM!!! ur literally one of my biggest inspos so to hear you say that you like my art really means a lot <333

and ofc i can draw baby shadow!! i really dont draw him as much as i should :33

i lobve him,,

(requests are still open!! theyre gonna close soon so send them in while you can!!)

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

I can see us Lost in the Memory

Summary: Caring is not an advantage. To Mycroft, this was a belief he found through the calculated logic that ruled his life. If was analytical and detached and certainly had nothing to do with Sherlock or the childhood neighbor.

Love You to the Moon and to Saturn

A/N: In a break from my regularly scheduled SVU writing, here’s a four part Folklore inspired Mycroft Holmes thing.

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

When the Holmes parents invited Ruth on their vacation to start the summer, she couldn’t resist the chance. Her mom would be busy, and the family would be staying on a beach in a little house for a week. You’re just so good with both my boys Mrs. Holmes had said with a soft smile as she pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Since Christmas, she’d had late night phone calls with Mycroft regularly, sneaking the handset for the phone to her room and staying up to happily listen to the minutiae of his day and tell him about her own. To help calm his worries, she took to dropping by to visit Sherlock. But this trip in May would be their first time together save a stolen weekend after midterms where she’d made it to Oxford.

When she arrived at their usual home, not the country house she was so used to, Sherlock darted out, wrapping around her as she laughed. He was almost not a little boy anymore, though she was certain he’d find something broken that they’d try to rebuild together.�� She could see Mycroft’s frame in the doorway, and her breath caught. He’d only gotten stuffier since going to Oxford, always in a suit. It worked for him or she’d have teased him mercilessly for it. There was also the fact that she was simply overjoyed to see him. 

“Missed you,” she said softly, looking up at him as Sherlock watched them suspiciously before going back into the house.

“And I missed you, Ruth.”

“Mummy, I think Mycroft and Ruth are going to start snogging.” The youngest Holmes ran to the kitchen, and Ruth flushed a deep pink and giggled as the very tips of Mycroft’s ears changed color.

“Do you care if she knows?” Ruth asked, and Mycroft was acutely aware of the power he had to hurt Ruth in that moment. He would never dream of it, but this would potentially be over in three years, at which point hurting her would be inevitable. But still he held out hope he could balance both.

“Not at all,” he said softly, the same dignified air he always carried. But instead of staying away as he led her in, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her into the house. His mother and father had the kindness to leave them be, and the drive went smoothly. When Sherlock became antsy, Ruth watched as Mycroft told him about people he’d encountered at university, problems in the dorms. It was a game the pair had always played when Sherlock had to be kept still too long. The younger Holmes would tell Mycroft how obvious it was his roommate's girlfriend had been eating all the food from the common area, and Mycroft would pretend he hadn’t figured it out with the same reasoning.

“Ruth, come here,” Mrs. Holmes had said, calling her to the kitchen as she left the boys to unload bags from the car. “Are you dating my son?”

“I love him very much.”

“The boys are in the last room on the left. You’ll be the first on the right. Behave yourselves, allright?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The evening found them watching Sherlock as Mr. and Mrs. Holmes went to dinner, and since Christmas, he’d discovered documentaries again, sprawling on the couch to watch one on pirates. It was good to see some things didn’t change. What had changed was that Mycroft was willing to give him a little more space. They cooked dinner together, and Ruth was rewarded with soft brushes of his hand over her back as he passed. She suspected he’d always be himself, not one for casual affection when someone could see. But when his brother was tucked into bed, there were soft kisses that grew more desperate and whispered confirmation they were both sure. She stole the Oxford sweatshirt from his bag after, determined not to let his mother find them anything but decent but wanting to keep everything on her as some extension of him.

“I don’t know why they got you a sweatshirt anyway,” she teased lightly, watching him smoke in the dark. “I’ve never seen you in a shirt without a collar.”

“I suppose mummy thought I might wear it to sleep. I don’t think she expected it to be worn by someone else during a post-coital cigarette.” He wore cotton pajama pants and a plain t-shirt, though she expected he had sets with collared shirts for when he was at school. The wind blew in from the water, and she wished she’d grabbed pants instead of letting the crewneck serve as a dress. He noticed her shiver, holding out an arm as he exhaled smoke. She pressed against his side and his arm wrapped around her. 

“Just someone?” she teased. “You know, I think I might be your girlfriend.”

“How is that any different than we’ve always been?”

“It means we build a future together. Don’t date other people. Communicate regularly.”

“I suppose you are my girlfriend,” he said, though she could tell he didn’t particularly care for the word. 

“So you think about a future with me?”

“Constantly,” he admitted, choosing to omit how much of that was grappling with the danger Rudy’s position could put her in when he took over. That he’d have to eventually tell her about Eurus. But he was young and selfish and certain he could separate it.

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Ruth had never been able to get Mycroft to the beach in anything but a polo shirt, but it seemed the way the last of his baby fat had melted off at university meant he was willing to join his brother and Ruth in the water. He still wore a polo shirt and boat shoes with his swim shorts, but he slipped both off and followed when Sherlock beckoned he and Ruth to join him in finding the sandbar. He almost said no until he saw how giddy Ruth looked as she peeled the other unworn bit of Oxford merchandise he’d acquired: a t-shirt that would have fit had he not lost weight. He liked seeing it on Ruth; it made him realize he was getting territorial.

“C’mon,” Sherlock called to them from the water’s edge. 

“We’re coming, Sherlock,” Mycroft scolded gently. “You must wait so we can be sure the tide doesn’t whisk you away.”

“Don’t scare him,” Ruth said, swatting his arm before she hurried and ruffled his brother’s hair. “We’ll find the sandbar, but then Mycroft and I are going to come back to land. I think you ought to see how big of a sandcastle you can make. Maybe even big enough you can hide in it.”

“Do you think there are artifacts in the sand, Ruth?”

“Probably not ones we’ll want to keep. But maybe bottles or keys.” The tide was low enough when they waded to the sandbar that Ruth and Mycroft could sit on it and watch as Sherlock ran along. He could dig as well, finding shells and loading them into the pockets of his swim shorts.

“Why must we be in this wet sand instead of on the towels on land?” Mycroft huffed, and Ruth poked his side.

“Your brother missed you. He likes you being close, even if you aren’t a part of his excavation. He’ll want to build soon, and since shells aren’t restorable like a trowel, he’ll go back to land for a sandcastle.”

“He only yells when I call him.”

“And what does he yell about?” Ruth had heard Sherlock during one of these calls. One of the calls where Sherlock yelled at Mycroft for leaving. But this would pass. She always promised Mycroft that it would pass, and Sherlock would understand his big brother would always come home. 

“Don’t look so proud,” Mycroft huffed.

“It’s not often I’m the one who’s right.”

“You’re often right when it comes to feelings.”

“I love you. My big brained robot.”

“I love you, my darling.”

“That sounds way more romantic than big brained robot. But god, I like hearing you say it. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” He had a glint in his eye as he looked down at her, and she smiled broadly up at him, delight apparent.

“You read Jane Austen?”

“Everyone does.”

“You only store things you want, Mycroft.”

“When I read it, I thought of you. I was fifteen. I was a fool and didn’t process what that meant for another year. But whenever I read a poem or a novel and they talk about ardent love, your face is my first thought. I wish I were someone who spoke so eloquently of his own feelings. But I do not understand why I love you. It honestly perplexes me. You are wild and hard headed and love the most mindless things. But I would gladly listen to you describe popular music or the intricacies of a flower crown for hours because of the way your smile and laugh sound more melodic than any symphony. What is unbearable in others only serves to make affection blossom when it is in you. Perhaps it’s because I feel I understand you like I can’t understand most, and I feel that you see me not just as some big brained robot but as who I am. And I am grateful for that, even if it perplexes me to no end.”

 “God, you really can be sappy,” she said, tearing up as she wrapped around his middle. Without his parents or peers there, he was more comfortable to stay sitting as perfectly upright as ever, but slip an arm around Ruth and press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “You’ll keep calling when you go back to school, right?”

“I will. And we’ll figure how to see each other. I know it hasn’t been easy. Uncle Rudy has so much for me to do on top of my course work.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Mycroft. It’s four to six years we have to get through. We can do that.”

“Have you thought about university?”

“Cambridge or Oxford. The latter, while a delightful institution, is due to a bias for a certain student.”

“What do you want to study?”

“I think I’d be a good teacher. Kids Sherlock’s age.”

“You’ve always done well keeping him engaged. That’s a feat in and of itself. But, I always expected that you’d pursue English. Write.”

“I need a job.”

“Writing is a job. You could work in editing too. But, you write so beautifully. And it makes you so happy. I’m certain you would flourish. It may be harder, but you’re intelligent enough to parallel plan and work until you’re published.”

“You really think so?”

“I know. And I’m always right.”

“Cambridge is about as far as London from you. Or maybe I’ll go to Oxford.”

“I just want you to select the institution you wish to learn from. I’m sure we can find a halfway point. If not, we can alternate visiting each other.”

“You wouldn’t feel weird if I showed up in your daily life?”

“You’re a part of my daily life. It would be a perpetual summer. Who wouldn’t wish for that?”

“We’ve just only ever had the summer.”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? I suspect you’ll tire of me when you realize I’m relaxed in the summers.”

“I imagine you wear suits everyday. And your socks, tie, and pocket square all match.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I don’t wear a tie every day.”

“Oh, there are pictures of  Mycroft in a suit with no tie. Is the top button undone? This is simply scandalous.”

She stretched herself up to kiss him, no hesitation now and fingers brushing through auburn hair. Only the screeched order to Stop being so gross from Sherlock convinced them to pull apart, and Ruth was quite sure he was grinning down at her.

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all

“Are we going to have to chase the two of you from each other's rooms all summer?”

“Mummy, she is my girlfriend. Is it the worst thing if I sleep beside her?”

“You’ll do more than sleep.”

“Yes, Violet, because a bed is the only place teenagers will shag. Never a field or a car or the storeroom at their job. They’re good kids. Leave them be.”

“Siger, this is the third time in a week! Do you want to deal with her mother when we return? She’ll be chasing our boy from her house night after night.”

“Since when does Ruth sleep in her own home? She’s in our guest room most nights. We can feign propriety if it is of such importance and say ‘Oh! I didn’t know he’d snuck into her room’ if for whatever reason Debora learns.”

Ruth was by Mycroft’s side, cheeks pink as she watched his parents. They’d tried to be careful, but she never woke up in time to hurry to her own room. She wanted to tell them her own mother wouldn’t notice anyway, so she should be able to climb into bed with Mycroft. They were talking about flats at Oxford, little ones they would stuff full of books and she’d ensure were always stocked with flowers. She’d made up her mind she’d go there. Mycroft was ready to tell Rudy he was in love, and it didn’t matter what the job entailed; Mycroft could balance it if it meant he’d have Ruth. For once, he was hopeful.

“Both of you, listen to me,” he said firmly, arm around Ruth. “Where do you think she stayed when she visited me at Oxford? This began at Christmas, so I hardly believe it to be a phase. I love her, and upon her graduation, we intend to get a flat near the university. Accept it now, or accept it later. It does not matter to me. This is the reality.”

“You’re following him to Oxford?” Violet seemed to be appraising her now. 

“Yes.”

“You really do love him?”

“Yes.”

“Just don’t make me a grandmother any time soon,” she said finally, obviously acquiescing as her husband followed her to the kitchen again with quiet assurances they’d be fine. Ruth’s cheeks were pink, but she wrapped around Mycroft and kissed him.

“What is that for?”

“You professed your love for me to your parents? You finally put your foot down over something and it's me?”

“I wish to maximize every moment I have you by my side between now and August.”

“I’ll miss you so much.”

“We’ll sort it out. Two terms. Then you’ll follow me to Oxford.” 

“Ruth will leave too?” The soft voice of Sherlock came from the hall, and she pulled away from Mycroft to kneel by him. 

“It’ll be just like the end of summer,” she promised. “It was harder with your brother because he lives with you. But, you usually only see me in the summer, and I’ll still be here for every summer. Who else will help me excavate the garden?”

“Why does everyone go to Oxford?”

“They don’t. But lots of people go to uni, and you will too one day. You’ll get a degree to be a detective or an archaeologist or marine biologist.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s a whole year away. You’ll be a teenager.”

“I guess that’s an okay time for you to go to Oxford.” He bent to look around her to his brother. “You could do well to learn from her, Mycroft.”

“You need to stop being so rude. He’s getting a degree so he can afford to keep you out of trouble forever and ever, kiddo.”

“I’m never in trouble.” 

“Mhm. Never, ever have I scooped you up before mummy could catch you performing experiments.”

“Shh!”

Ruth simply laughed, moving to stand again, Sherlock’s gaze again fluctuating between bored and curious about the world around him as she moved to sit in the arm chair beside the one Mycroft had settled into with his book. She opened her own, feet tucked under her, reaching towards him and resting her hand on the small table between them. He looked at it before resting his hand in hers.

“I like this,” she said softly. He made a noise of agreement, legs crossed. “I could get used to it.”

“We’ve a whole summer ahead, dear.”

That night found them tangled in bedsheets, not bothering to pretend he was going to be sleeping in the room with Sherlock. He rather liked sleeping by her, and he was grateful she was so content to lay against his side, close enough it was intimate and safe, but not requiring their bodies to be tangled. But she did like to play with his hands, especially in the afterglow. She would trace the lines of his palms or the veins on the back of his hand, watching her own actions in the moonlight. He stopped her tonight, letting his fingers slip between hers. She smile down at him, her hair a curtain as she leaned to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Get some sleep, Ruth.”

“Does anyone ever take care of you, Mycroft?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Everyone does. And I’m going to from here on out, okay?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“How often do you sit in the sun and read for pleasure at Oxford?”

“There isn’t time.”

“I’ll make sure there is when I’m there. You need to give yourself breaks.” He didn’t agree, but instead of arguing, he pulled her to his side, deciding he could tangle himself with her awhile, savoring the closeness. 

“You are too gentle for this world, darling. Please never change.”

[lyssismagical]

Maybe 28 and 57 for the prompt writing? That would be really cute 💖

28 - “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

57 - “Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death.” 

Idk how it happened but nearly 4k words of Cheerleading Captain!Peter x Quarterback!Harley for your consideration

 *

Joining a new school in junior year wasn’t easy. Moving from Tennessee to New York was even harder.

But if there was one thing Harley had on his side, he was a fantastic football player. And everyone knew football players were top of the social pyramid.

“Quarterback? Really?” One of the boys say when he says it to the coach. “You think the new kid will get the position?”

Harley shrugs. “I played in Tennessee. I won every game.”

The coach lifts an eyebrow and then nods in approval. “Ever since the schoolboard started talking about implementing athletics at a STEM school, we’ve been pretty emptyhanded. Not enough students willing to drop robotics to join a team, not enough good students. We won one game last year out of a total of nearly fifteen.”

With a smug grin, he rolls his shoulders and slips his helmet over his head.

He gets Quarterback with ease.

As he’s leaving the field after tryouts, he notices a group of girls and a boy congregating by the bleachers, all dressed in blue and gold.

“You’re new here,” a girl says, appearing beside him. He recognizes her, having been sitting in the bleachers alone during tryouts. She’s not wearing a football uniform or the ones the group across from them is wearing.

“Harley Keener,” he replies. “You’re Michelle, right? You’re in my chemistry class.”

She offers half a smile. “MJ. I heard you landed Quarterback.”

“Not that it was particularly hard, there’s not much competition.”

Looping their arms together, she leads him a few more feet away from the group. “They’re the cheerleaders in case you didn’t know. Cindy, the one with the pink water bottle, she’s co-captain. And Peter Parker is captain, he’s been captain since freshman year.”  

“He’s captain?”

MJ’s smile turns knowing. “Yeah, he’s captain. Too bad you missed him in freshman year. The school didn’t have the budget for two sets of cheerleader uniforms, so Peter had to wear the short skirt the whole first year. I had to teach him how to shave his legs. Now he gets to wear pants.”

Harley turns, pretends not to look, but still says, “The pants are nice.”

“I know what that’s code for,” MJ laughs.

Indignant, Harley huffs, “I’m not a creep, his pants are just really tight.”

“Well, he is both single and bisexual, so if you’re courageous enough, I’d say to shoot your shot, Keener.”

Before Harley has the time to reply, MJ’s already walking off towards the school, without even a glance over her shoulder.

Harley’s not courageous enough to ask Peter out. All he does is wave from a distance, reveling in Peter’s little smile in return before making his way to the locker rooms.

* The first game of the season they nearly lose thanks to Harley’s constant staring at Peter on the sidelines.

The next two games, he focuses so intently on winning for Peter that they totally annihilate the other teams.

At the end of their third game, a home game, Harley’s on his way to the showers, grinning at his teammates when Peter catches up to them.

“Congratulations on your win,” he says.

Harley’s stunned into silence. It’s the first time he’s really seen Peter up close. They only share one class together, Spanish, and they sit on opposite ends, with Harley only able to see the back of his head.

But Peter’s gorgeous.

His brown curls are messy from the last few hours of cheering on the sidelines and the halftime show, some of it still sticking to his forehead. His pale skin is practically glowing in the lights of the field, bambi-brown eyes sparkling and wide, and chest still heaving from the exertion of their last, over-the-top performance. His arms are practically straining in the tight t-shirt he’s wearing, the gold accents making his eyes look a little more honey, smile wide on his face.

“I, uh-” Harley chokes out, cursing himself for acting dumb. “Thank you. You guys were pretty incredible.”

“Thanks.” A soft blush rises on his cheeks, makes him look down, smile turning shy. “Good luck on your next game. The Brooklyn Team’s the best in state.”

Harley can’t help the frown. “You won’t be there?”

“I’ve got Academic Decathlon competition in DC that weekend. But good luck anyways.”

“You too…” Harley feels like his chest is constricting over the knowledge that Peter’s smart too. “I, uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

Peter smiles sweetly and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

* Over the next few weeks of short conversations after games or practices, Harley finds himself watching Peter all the time.

Peter wears his cheerleading uniform all day everyday like the others do, head held high and students parting for him like he’s royalty. He’s friends with pretty much everyone, sending smiles and having short conversations as he goes down the hallway to class.

He’s also unbelievably kind, stopping teasing at every chance he gets, using his popularity to keep people in line, being nice to even the nerdiest looking freshmen.

Harley finds himself falling hard the longer he knows Peter.

Watching the way he moves with grace and confidence in such contrast to the way he blushes and smiles shyly whenever he’s complimented. It makes Harley’s heart clench with this crush that feels like it’s developing way too fast for his own comfort.

* “Could I talk to you?” Peter asks him after practice.

Harley’s still sweaty, still uncomfortably warm in his pads and uniform, helmet dangling from his fingertips leaving his hair messy and ruffled. But he offers a smile. “Yeah, everything okay?”

The cheerleader looks uncomfortable, turning his gaze to the grass, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Hey,” Harley says, voice dropping low and quiet as he pulls them farther away from their teams, trying his best to keep his thoughts away from Peter’s bicep flexing wondrously beneath his fingers. “You can talk to me, whatever it is.”

“It’s just embarrassing…” Peter looks up at Harley through his eyelashes. “My grades have dropped in a few of my classes, and I know we only share Spanish, but I kinda got MJ to snoop and it turns out you have one of the highest GPA’s in school.”

Harley frowns because that can’t possibly be right. “From what I’ve seen in Spanish class, you seem really smart.”

“Well, I don’t want to sound overly confident, but I am smart. I’ve just had a bad habit of slacking off when it comes to homework. So my grades aren’t looking too hot and my aunt threatened to make drop out of cheerleading if I didn’t get it in order.”

Offering a reassuring smile, Harley nods. “Not really tutoring, but I can sit with you in the library and help you work through the homework? More like study date- sessions. Study sessions.”

Peter positively lights up in a grin. “Wow, really? Thank you! I’ve got cheerleading practice three nights a week and Academic Decathlon every other night, so I’m not really free, but if you’re willing to hang out after your football practices…”

“Yeah, of course, sounds perfect. We’ll start Wednesday?”

“Yes! Thank you! I promise I’ll be a good study partner. I’ll see you around, Harley!”

And with that, Peter skips off to catch up with his cheerleader friends.

Harley can only shake his head in wonder and head off to the lockers.

* Wednesday comes quickly, and Harley’s glad because with how much time he spends daydreaming about Peter, he’s not sure he can keep up his grades either.

But soon enough, he’s waiting outside the locker rooms for Peter, hoping that the shower was enough to wash away the sweat from the tough practice.

“Hey!” Peter says, bubbly and smiling brightly. “I know we said we’d study at the library, but I’m getting a little bit sick of being inside all day. Do you want to work out on the bleachers?”

Harley nods, swallowing thickly and trying his best to keep his eyes strictly on Peter face and not watch his arms or his neck or his legs. “Sounds good.”

They head out into the setting sun, playfully nudging shoulders and nearly racing each other to get to the bleachers first, which ends in Peter laughing and shouting when he makes it their first.

“So, I heard from MJ this morning that you were being unbelievably humble when you said you were smart. She said you have a genius IQ. And you needed study help, why?”

“I told you,” Peter says, laughing. “I haven’t done homework in nearly three years. My grades are solely based on test scores and participation which would be fine if the take-home projects weren’t weighted so heavily.”

Harley rolls his eyes but takes out his Chemistry textbook anyways. “Alright, let’s get you caught up then. You’ve got nearly two months of homework to catch up on.”

“Let’s do this then.”

It turns out, Harley loves watching Peter work. He really is a genius, easily getting the work done like it’s second nature to him, able to answer mathematical equations without a calculator or a second thought, speed reading his way through chapters in the textbook. And it definitely helps that he looks absolutely stunning in the light of the setting sun and the gentle wind.

Eventually, though, they can’t stay much longer with the fading, and curfew closing in.

“Thanks for your help today… Same time Friday?” Peter asks, eyes all wide and hopeful, smile sweet.

“Actually, not to be presumptuous, but we’d have more time if we hung out for longer… Would you want to come over? Spend the night? We could work later and get more done on Saturday?”

Peter thinks about it for a moment and then he shrugs. “I don’t think my aunt would be happy with me spending the night, but you’re welcome to come to mine?”

“Sounds like a plan, Parker. You need a ride home?”

“Sure, yeah, thanks.”

Harley helps pack up their things and then takes Peter’s bag before leading him out to his truck. He opens the door for Peter, memorizing the dazzling smile he gives in return.

They only have half an hour together on the drive home, but it’s enough time for them to share more personal information.

Harley tells Peter about his sister and his mom, about Tennessee and how different life was there, how much he loves New York in comparison. He talks about getting quarterback, winning games, being on top of the social hierarchy for the first time in his life.

Peter, in turn, mentions quietly how he was bullied in the ninth grade before and when he first joined the cheerleaders. How at first, people told him it was girls team, that it wasn’t meant for him. But then they won their first trophy which snowballed into him becoming captain and leading them to win nationals and get them fifth in worlds. And then, very quickly, he became the most popular kid in school.

By the time they reach Peter’s apartment, Harley feels like they’ve grown closer and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to him.

“Today was really nice,” Peter murmurs, leaning across to kiss Harley on the cheek. “Thanks for helping me out. I’ll see you at school tomorrow and then Friday night?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue, wanting to ask Peter out, change Friday Night into a Date Night instead of a Study Session.

But then Peter’s hopping out of his truck, bag slung over his shoulder and gold accents of his uniform glimmering in the streetlights. And Harley misses his chance.

* Peter’s quiet the whole way to his apartment, bag sitting in his lap.

He looks almost out of place in the outside world while still in his Midtown Cheerleading Uniform. But Harley’s still in his jersey, so it’s not so strange in comparison.

Peter leads him into his cozy apartment, empty apart from them, and they make themselves at home in the living room around the coffee table.

“Everything okay?” Harley asks, almost startling himself with his own voice. He was planning on leaving it alone, he’s not really Peter’s friend.

“Yeah, I just kind of have a lot riding on this.” Peter’s quiet for a second, fiddling with his nails before he explains, “I can’t afford to go to a school like Midtown, but I got awarded a full ride. If I don’t get my grades up, I might be put on academic probation, have my scholarship taken away… I’d have to switch schools for my senior year, also meaning I’d probably lose the university scholarships I might’ve been offered for cheerleading.”

Harley mulls over it for a moment before shrugging. “Well, you have a very good study partner on your side. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your grades are up by exams. Don’t start thinking of the worst-case scenarios just yet.”

The tenseness leaves Peter’s shoulders in one exhale, expression softening. “Thanks. I don’t want to put pressure on you, but-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Smiling, Peter opens his bag and they get to work.

Time passes quickly when they’re focused on getting things done, it’s not hard for Peter to get closer and closer to catching up, but there’s only so much they can do before boredom and hunger starts to set in.

They order pizza, Harley offering to pay but Peter insistent after Harley’s helped him so much.

“You know,” Harley says after Peter gets off the phone, “Breaks are important to keep up consistent work.”

Peter grins knowingly, flopping down onto the couch beside Harley. “Are they?”

“As an avid homework-doer and studier, I can totally say that breaks are important. So, I suggest we do pizza and a movie, and then a bit more work before bed.”

“Of course. And as someone who doesn’t do homework or study, I can’t disagree with anything you say. Here.” Peter gives him the TV remote. “Let me go get changed, I can only wear this for so long before I start craving sweatpants, and when I get back, we’ll start on a movie of your choosing.”

Harley picks out Star Wars, seemingly a safe bet considering the very obvious Star Wars poster stuck to the wall above the couch, and texts Abbie in the meantime who teases him endlessly, already having figured out his crush on Peter.

“Star Wars! It’s like you read my mind!” Peter calls out, slipping around the couch.

“I mean there’s science so it’s-” But the words are gone as soon as he sees Peter.

He looks so much different than the Cheerleading Captain Harley’s always seen him as, tucked in a pair of loose sweatpants and an even looser t-shirt, hair mussed and body relaxed. God, if Harley thought he looked incredible in his uniform, it’s nothing compared to the way he looks relaxed and content in lounge clothes.

“So it’s…” Peter prompts, forehead creasing but smiling in amusement.

“Sorry, I- You’re just- Sorry, I’ve never seen you outside your uniform before,” Harley says, voice suddenly thick. “The movie’s educational, that’s all.”

Peter giggles, sitting down beside Harley, against Harley, and presses play so the beginning credits begin to roll. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, but I don’t think Star Wars counts as educational.”

“It is a compliment!” Harley gasps, higher than he means it to come out. “I was just surprised is all… You’re- It’s just- Wow.”

He laughs again. “Wow? For someone with a nearly perfect GPA, that’s not the most articulate compliment.”

“I meant- Oh god, I’m totally embarrassing myself, aren’t I?” He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his face flush warmly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s sweet. I get a lot of compliments, but most about how my ass looks in the uniform, so I do appreciate being complimenting for being wow while in sweats.”

Harley’s eyes go wide, and he’s quick to try to redeem himself, “You’re just really pretty is all! That was worse than wow, wasn’t it? I’m just making this worse.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Peter repeats, eyes so soft and open and earnest. “That’s a new one.”

For once, Harley manages to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to say anything more, but Peter’s still blushing and smiling when he turns back to the TV, shaking his head fondly.

*

Long after pizza and their movie’s done, homework continued through until they were laughing too much to continue to think straight, Peter finally calls it a night.

Harley changes in the bathroom and purposefully leaves his jersey on the back of the couch, while Peter makes him a bed on the couch.

It would’ve been a good time, Harley knows, to ask that question, to see if this will lead in another direction, but he chickens out and ends up just with, “Goodnight, Peter.”

And Peter smiles, all warm and sweet, and he murmurs, “Night, Harley.”

And that’s that.

In the morning, Harley wakes to the smell of coffee.

He pretends he’s still asleep when he hears voices drifting in from the kitchen.

“So that’s the infamous Harley Keener,” a woman says, Harley guesses it’s Peter’s aunt.

“He’s helping me get my grades up.”

The woman laughs. “For someone with a genius IQ, I don’t know how you managed to let your grades drop like that. It’s not his fault? Or cheerleading?”

“No, May, I promise I’m working on it.”

“Good. Don’t let him get in the way of your education or focus, honey. Don’t let him hurt you, alright?”

Harley finally stretches up, making himself known as awake. He yawns, looking over the back of the couch towards the kitchen. “Morning.”

Peter lights up in a smile. “Morning, Harley. You want coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He slips up just as May says she’s off to bed, still wearing her nurse scrubs, and he offers a quiet greeting to her on her way out.

And then it’s just him and Peter.

“Sleep well?” Harley asks when the silence stretches a second too long. Peter nods, passing him the mug of hot coffee. It’s a Star Wars mug and he can feel his cheeks warm.

“We don’t really have much breakfast food… You wanna maybe go out somewhere to get some?”

Harley, still sleep-warm and relaxed, jumps as the chance. “Do you want to go out? Like on a proper date? Breakfast? On me?”

“The quarterback with the cheerleading captain?” Peter says. “That’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. Is that a no?”

Peter seems to ponder it for a moment before he shrugs. “I kind of love clichés.”

“Breakfast then.”

Grinning, Peter nods, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Let me get dressed and then we’ll go.”

“Perfect.”

As soon as he’s left alone in the kitchen, he pumps his fists in the air, barely managing to stifle his excited cheer.

“I saw that!” Peter calls out.

Flushing, Harley quickly sets down his coffee, grabs his bag and heads to the bathroom to get changed quickly, wishing he’d packed something nicer than jeans and a flannel.

“I’m surprised you’re not in your uniform,” he says when he sees Peter waiting by the door.

He’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a simple t-shirt, grinning just as bright as always.

“I only wear it at school.”

Harley shrugs. “I was starting to think it was the only thing you owned.”

Peter links their hands together and pulls open the door, smiling just as bright as ever.

* All eyes turn towards the cafeteria doors.

“Oh my god-” Betty breathes from near Harley.

He looks over his shoulder, expecting to see something vaguely newsworthy but otherwise boring, but instead finds Peter.

Peter who’s wearing his blue and gold cheerleading uniform as always, curls messy and cheeks flushed pink, except he’s wearing a jersey over his uniform.

Harley’s jersey.

“Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death,” Peter calls out, dramatically loudly to get the rest of the student’s eyes on him.

Harley trips up to his feet, eyes wide and shocked because after one date, Peter’s already announcing it to the world.

“You left this at my place,” Peter says, walking up to him. His eyes are bright and amused like he expected Harley to get this flustered. His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I know it’s soon but I saw you staring, saw you watching me during practices. The only reason I saw is because I was watching you too. I want to make this official.”

“Yeah, I- Yeah, I want that.”

Peter grins, kissing Harley on the mouth for the first time, they’d parted yesterday with only a kiss on the cheek. When he pulls away, he’s still smiling. “Sorry about doing this here. I couldn’t wait. Too much?”

“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes,” Harley chokes out. “I’m just- You look good. I didn’t expect you to like me too.”

“I do. I really do.”

Harley finally smiles back at him, grabbing Peter by the waist to kiss him again. “You want to go out with me again? Wednesday? After practice?”

“I would love to. Can I- Would it be okay for it to be as boyfriends?”

“Okay? Yes, more than okay. I would really love that.”

Peter laughs, tucking himself close to Harley’s chest. “Wow. Boyfriends.”

For the rest of the year and the following year, they’re considered Midtown’s Power Couple.

And when they make it MIT together, Peter having managed near-perfect grades with Harley’s help, they’re considered MIT’s Power Couple too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[authenticcadence18]

Ladynoir July Day 4: Disguise

When the akuma Ladybug and Chat Noir are tracking leads them to a superhero con, they disguise themselves...as themselves.

@ladynoirjuly2020

AO3

...

“....are you sure this is necessary?” Ladybug hissed to her partner, inwardly cursing the cheap spandex she’d been wearing for over an hour. “There’s Ladybugs and Chat Noirs everywhere. Surely we could sneak around in our real costumes and not be spotted.”

“You can never be too careful, m’lady!” Chat whispered back. “Sometimes the best disguise is a terrible one.”

“...couldn’t I have at least MADE US some terrible costumes??” Ladybug replied as they slipped past a booth selling superhero-themed artwork. “I DO own a sewing machine, remember?”

“Ah ah ah, that would’ve brought too much attention towards us too,” Chat replied. “Unique, homemade costumes would be far more interesting to these people than the ‘Official Ladybug and Chat Noir’ outfits sold by the company that made the movie about us last year. THESE costumes are the most generic you can find, which means no one will notice us.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with wearing inexpensive, main-brand costumes to a con!!” he announced to no one in particular. “All forms of cosplay are valid!!”

“....who is he talking to…?” Ladybug muttered to herself.

“But, for the purposes of our stakeout, it’s the perfect cover,” Chat concluded with a grin.

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “....anyone who chooses to wear this costume deserves a badge of honor…” she grumbled, rubbing her arms and grimacing. “It’s so itchy.”

...

Ladybug and Chat Noir--also known to a select few as Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste--had been trailing an elusive akuma for the past few days. The akuma had been leaving them clues to aid in their search...apparently the victim’s schtick was inspired by the children’s show she’d been forced to watch for hours on end while babysitting before succumbing to Hawkmoth’s akumatization as a means of escape. The most recent clue had pointed them to the Superhero Convention taking place in Paris that weekend. The Paris Convention Center had been converted into a celebration of all-things heroic...and seeing as Ladybug and Chat Noir were by far Paris’ most popular heroes, costumes and merchandise for the duo far outweighed any representation for other heroes (both fictional and real).

It had been Adrien’s idea to attend the convention as their superhero selves, but in disguise. Marinette hadn’t been too keen on entering an akuma-infested convention center without the protection of their miraculous suits, but Adrien assured her they’d be recognized in a minute in their real outfits.

“These people know everything there is to know about us,” Adrien had explained.

"Well...almost everything." At that, he'd grinned slyly and planted a quick kiss on Marinette's temple. “If we want to take the akuma by surprise, we’ll have to blend in until the last minute...then we can transform and defeat her once and for all.”

Looking back, Marinette suspected said kiss had addled her brain long enough for her to agree to her boyfriend’s crazy plan without asking where he’d be getting their costumes from.

...

“..you know, you seem to know a lot about this ‘con’ stuff…” Ladybug pointed out as her partner briefly gawked over a vintage Wonder Woman poster before regaining his composure and continuing to walk at her side.

“I may dabble in a little cosplay every now and then…” Chat replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Ladybug hit her partner with a deadpan stare, and he flinched.

“Okay, so, MAYBE I’ve never actually been to a con before this...my father is way too strict to ever let me do something like that...but I’ve always wanted to go to one! So I’ve watched a ton of panels on YouTube, read articles about how they work, tried making cosplays with the clothes I already have when my father thinks I’m practicing piano...that sort of thing.”

Ladybug chuckled and ruffled his hair, suddenly not as bothered by the cheap mask pinching her eyes. “Maybe the akuma can wait, then! We’re here, we’re all dressed up...maybe we can have a bit of fun before we find her.”

Chat’s eyes widened. “Wait...really? You mean it? But I thought you wanted to get this over with as soon as possible! You know...since you hate the costumes. And there’s an akuma on the loose.” Ladybug shrugged and grinned. “Look, if these disguises really are as good as you say they are, the akuma won’t be able to find us...and it isn’t like she’s going to do anything particularly evil, either. All she wanted was a break from watching Blue’s Clues with her baby cousin, which I totally get...I think this chase is a way of prolonging the inevitable for her.”

“She probably got stuck watching Joe’s episodes….” Chat murmured meaningfully.

Ladybug took Chat’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on. I don’t mind wearing an itchy outfit for a few hours if it means getting to have fun with you. Let’s go find a line to stand in and some expensive merchandise to admire without actually buying it.”

Tears glistened in Chat’s eyes as he followed his girlfriend through the crowd. “...I am so in love with her right now.”

....

I'm writing some one-shots for Ladynoir July! What days will I write for? How many fics will I be able to finish?

...only Ahtohallan knows.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ What You Deserve (Doyoung Kim)

Genre: Dark, Angst, Fluff, Romance ☁

Word Count: 3,421 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Kim Doyoung ☁

World: NCT ☁

WARNING: This fic contains self-harm, attempted suicide and talks about depression. Read at your own risk.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You’re not sure when it started, or how or why. It felt like it had been with you for most of your life. Maybe it started in high school where you spent every day being bullied and abused by your fellow students. At that time, your only bit of sanity was with your best friend, Johnny, but he had started to pull away from you.

Not on purpose, you knew. He had a dream that he was working hard towards achieving, but… in doing so, you began to fade away. Since you were children, Johnny had always been the anchor that kept you from floating away while also being the one that kept your head above water.

When he moved to Korea, you started to drown and didn’t know how to save yourself.

You had convinced yourself that everyone hated you and that you were only a burden to those around you. Johnny did his best to keep in touch as much as possible, which kept you going for a while. As bad as you never wanted it to end, you knew that it would.

Johnny had achieved his dream, debuting with a group called NCT 127 and they were quickly climbing the latter of popularity. He started to have less and less time for you until, finally, he stopped contacting you altogether. Four months passed without so much as a text saying, ‘hi’.

It had finally happened. Johnny realized that you were just a broken burden and decided to move on with his life. He forgot all about the needy, depressed little Y/N. That’s what you convinced yourself of.

You couldn’t take it anymore – the pain, the self-hate, the torment. It was all too much for you to face alone. With the weight of the world on your shoulders, you made up your mind.

You were going to kill yourself.

When Friday rolled around, your father left for his business trip, unaware of the plans his child had.

A bad storm had rolled in out of nowhere that night. Thunder shook the building as rain violently pounded the Earth. It was like the gods themselves were angry.

It comforted you in a weird way.

You lit a candle, setting it on the bathroom sink so you could see what you were doing. The power had been knocked out after a rather violent gust of wind knocked a palm tree into the power lines. This set everything into motion as the power line sparked, setting the palm tree on fire.

Unaware of the chaos outside, you slipped into the bathtub, your clothes getting heavy as they absorbed the water. Your eyes scanned your forearms, scanning the scars that littered your skin.

Even in the dull lighting, you could see each one perfectly. The old and the new, mingling together. Your finger traced them, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you remembered each one. Every single scar held a painful memory and you were cursed with remembering each one as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

Your hand shook as you picked up the razor blade.

This was it. All of your pain and suffering, all of the blood and suffering… it had all lead you to this moment. It was finally going to end. You were finally going to find peace.

So why were you hesitating? Why did you feel fear?

The metal rested against your wrist, making small cuts in your skin since you couldn’t steady your hand. ‘This is for the best’, you tried to convince yourself. ‘When I die, dad won’t have to work so hard to pay for my medical bills. He won’t stress himself over me. He can move on with his life and find the happiness he deserves. I… I have to do this!’

Lightning lit up the darkness as you screamed out, ripping the blade across your skin harder than you ever had before. Blood started to pour from the wound, dropping into the water and turning it an ugly faded red.

You slid down in the tub as the wound started to sting, your body shaking. Whether it was from your sobbing or from the pain, you didn’t know.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your ears faintly picked up the sound of pounding on the front door. Hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway followed by the cries of children. It sounded hazy to you like you were dreaming.

“Open up, there’s a fire in the building!” The banging continued. “We’re coming in!”

You heard the door slam open and several pairs of feet rushed into the apartment.

Everything went black.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hoarse groan passed your lips as the insistent beeping disturbed your sleep. Eyes sliding open, you blinked a few times before it focused on the white ceiling above you. ‘Am I… dead?’, you wondered, forcing yourself to sit up.

The room was dark, lit up only by the lights of the heart monitor you were connected to. It was still raining, reduced to a soft pitter-patter against the window. The whiteboard on the wall bore the date, Tuesday.

It was clear that your attempt had failed. You eyed the thick bandage around your wrist. The only thing you could think about was the medical bills your father would have to pay.

‘I can’t even kill myself properly…’

The door creaked open and a woman you didn’t recognize entered the room. Your first instinct was that she was a nurse, but you soon realized that she was wearing a Victorian style dress.

Squinting through the darkness, you noticed something dripping from her hands. It was blood, splattering against the linoleum. All other sounds disappeared except for the dripping.

“Wh-Who are you?” You stuttered out, feeling your body tense. You knew something wasn’t right.

The woman started to laugh, low and vacant of humor. It gradually increased in volume until it filled the room.

You could feel terror taking over you as you scrambled back, your finger repeatedly smashing the nurse call button. The speaker behind the bed beeped as it normally would, but instead of getting a nurse you only heard the laughter coming through the static.

The woman moved closer, her bare feet slapping against the floor. “Selfish child,” she muttered.

You stumbled back off the bed, tripping over the various wires and tubes connected to your body. Hitting the floor hard, you winced as the IV was ripped from your arm. Within seconds, the woman was on top of you, her bloody hands wrapped tight around your throat.

Her eyes were wild and bloodshot. “Selfish child! Selfish child!” She kept repeating the same two words, voice growing louder with each repetition until she was screaming at the top of her lungs. “SELFISH CHILD!”

You couldn’t breathe, struggling to push her off but your hand went through her body like she wasn’t there.

Dots of black started to cloud your vision until you were completely cloaked in darkness.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You shot up in bed, feeling your body enveloped in a cold sweat. Your hand grabbed your throat as you gasped for breath. Warmth surrounded your body and soft words were spoken into your ear. You couldn’t understand what was being said, but they did their job and slowly you started to calm.

A hand gripped your own and you looked up, meeting eyes with your dad. Almost instantly, you looked away from him, unable to face the tears that clung to his cheeks. You looked to your left, where the warmth was coming from, and you felt your body tense up again.

“J-Johnny?”

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back with a smile, breathing out deeply as he spoke. “Hey… how are you feeling?” His voice was rough, a clear indication that he had been crying.

“Why are you here?” You hadn’t meant for it to sound so rude, but last time you checked, he was in a different country living the life he wanted.

“What a stupid question,” he laughed, ruffling your hair like he always used to do when you were upset. “I came to make sure you were alright.”

You moved your gaze to the white cotton covering your body. There were so many thoughts and emotions rushing through your body that you felt completely overwhelmed. Anger, pain, guilt, confusion… they swirled together in the pit of your stomach.

Johnny knew you were about to start crying, his eyes flicking to the heart monitor as the rate increased. “Are you hungry? The hospital food sucks, and we’re not technically allowed to bring outside food in for patients, but your nurse is a big fan of NCT so I can probably get her to ignore it. There’s a Taco Bell not too far from here, I know it’s your favorite!”

You could only nod, not trusting your voice.

“Stay here, Johnny. I’ll go and get it.” Your dad announced, giving you a soft peck on the cheek before leaving the room. He knew that he couldn’t comfort you, despite how bad he wanted to. That’s why he made the decision that he did. You knew he felt like a failure as a father and you felt overwhelmed by guilt.

Johnny shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “I brought one of the members with me. He’s really smart, reliable and loves white chocolate.” He paused, mentally slapping himself. Surely after attempting suicide, you didn’t care about conversing with someone about chocolate. “He’s right down the hall, I’ll go grab him.”

When he left the room, you lifted your eyes to the whiteboard. It sat in the exact same place as it had in your dream and the date scrawled on was the same – Tuesday.

‘What was that dream?’, you couldn’t help but wonder. Even the rain was the same, gently sliding down the glass. ‘I was trying to make life easier for everyone, but I’m a selfish child?’

Johnny re-entered the room with another boy. The thing that stuck out the most was his rich blue hair. “This is Doyoung, he’s one of our vocalists. Doyoung, this is Y/N, my best friend.”

You winced at the words. Could you even consider yourself still his friend after all this? Must less his best friend. Surely he had found someone more suitable to the title within his new group.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” Doyoung spoke politely in accented English, bowing slightly in respect. He was uncomfortable, feeling like he was intruding on something extremely personal, but Johnny had requested that he come along for support, and that was a request that he couldn’t deny.

The rest of the day was spent with the three men trying to make you smile, at the very least, but you just weren’t in the mood. It was strange – you wanted to be left alone but… at the same time, you didn’t want to be alone.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You were stuck in the hospital for observation for the next week. Both Johnny and Doyoung stayed with you, allowing your dad to get some rest and go to work. On the day of your release, you and Doyoung waited near the front of the hospital while Johnny ran over to the parking garage to get his rental.

You still felt a bit uncomfortable being alone with him since you didn’t know him well, so your eyes were scanning the area to give you something to do. You happened to glance at a painting on the wall and you felt a cold chill run down your back.

Feeling you tense next to him, Doyoung looked at you with worry. “Are you okay?”

You slowly stood up, approaching the painting. It was her, the woman from your dream. Her eyes were bloodshot and hollow like she had died a long time ago. There a small tag on the bottom of the frame with a name etched into it.

“Matilda Palmer…”

“She looks terrifying,” Doyoung commented as he came up beside you.

“She was quite a nice woman, once upon a time.”

You both turned around, seeing an elderly man looking at the photo sadly. His eyes met yours and he frowned.

“She spoke to you, didn’t she?”

A shiver ran through your body and you moved closer to Doyoung, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on the back of your head. It felt like the painting was burning a hole in your skull and you were too afraid to turn and check on it. Doyoung put his arm around your shoulder, looking at the man skeptically.

“Who… Who is she?” You questioned.

The man folded his hands behind his back, eyes sliding closed. “She haunts this hospital.”

“Haunts?” Doyoung’s grip tightened.

You glanced at him, patting his arm to try and calm him down despite the fact that you felt just as worried. “What happened to her?”

“She went insane after her child killed himself.”

Selfish child, selfish child, SELFISH CHILD!

You threw your hands over your ears as her voice echoed in your head. Having had enough, Doyoung excused himself and all but dragged you to the door of the hospital. Johnny pulled up just as you stepped outside and the pair of you hopped into the backseat.

He looked at you with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a weird man talking about the hospital being haunted…” Doyoung shivered. “Let’s just leave, okay?”

Johnny nodded and took off, tapping the steering wheel lightly. “Y/N? There’s something your dad and I didn’t tell you…”

“What would that be?” You questioned, rubbing your temples. You couldn’t stop thinking about that damned dream.

“We talked it over, and we both agreed that this is the best for you.” He paused, wondering what your reaction would be. “You’re coming back to Korea with us.”

“…Wait, what?!”

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Although you were against the idea at first, you were glad that Johnny had forced you to come to Korea with him. It had been about four months since you moved into a small apartment with him and Doyoung. You expected to be left alone when he was working, but Johnny refused to let you be alone for more than a few minutes and forced you to come along with him. His managers were not happy about this, but it was something he refused to back down on. Doyoung and their leader, Taeyong, also backed him up since they both knew about your situation.

During this time, you had gotten increasingly close to Doyoung, who had made it his personal mission to look after you.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Doyoung questioned, smiling at you as he entered the apartment.

“Are you sure you won’t get into trouble?”

“Positive!” He gently grabbed your hand, tugging you towards the door. “I only had a photo shoot to do today, and I promised we’d go to the park.”

You sighed in defeat, allowing the male to pull you along. Worrying about ruining their careers constantly plagued your mind, but it didn’t seem to bother them. They always made sure to make time for you.

It was midday in Spring, the sun shining in a sea of fluffy white clouds. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. He led you to a small patch of grass on the outer edge of the park where you both sat comfortably.

He was feeling nervous, despite having been alone with you many times in the past. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You were lying back on the grass, staring up at the clouds.

“Are you happy?” He lightly picked at the grass nervously. “Being here with us, with… me.”

“I’m not sure how to answer that. I feel… fortunate having you guys in my life, but I also feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always felt that way.”

He turned to lie down next to you, propping his head up in his hand. “Do you mind if I ask…”

“Why did I try to kill myself?” You finished, locking eyes with him. He nodded. “Truthfully, several reasons. I was tired, mostly, but I thought I was doing everyone a favor. I felt like such a burden to my father…”

Hearing those words broke his heart. His hand slid onto of your own, eyes never leaving yours. He wanted to convey his feelings, but he wasn’t sure how you felt and he didn’t want to make you feel burdened. “Do you still feel that way?”

“Sometimes. More than anything, I feel guilty.” You paused for a moment. “Do you remember that painting at the Hospital?”

“How could I forget? It was so creepy,” he shivered, “And what was with that guy?”

“He was right. I did see her.”

His brow furrowed.

“It was in a dream, but I saw her. She kept repeating ‘selfish child’. I didn’t know what it meant until that man explained what happened to her.” You sighed, lacing your fingers with his. “I looked her up online. She only appears to those that have attempted suicide. Her son was depressed and had been hospitalized many times throughout his life for trying to kill himself. Finally, he succeeded… his mother was a wreck and, eventually, she went insane and stabbed the nurse that was looking after her. She was locked away in a padded cell and passed away three days later.”

“I see… that’s a shame.”

“At first, I thought she was just a vengeful spirit, angry about what her son had done, but… she’s trying to stop others from making the same mistakes that her son had.”

“I think… when you kill yourself, you also kill those around you.” He whispered, moving closer so that he could rest his head on your shoulder. His hand held yours against his chest. “Depression makes you think that others are better off without you, but that’s not the case. I was there when Johnny got the call. It was like his world had shattered. He dropped the phone and fell to his knees in shock. We were about to go on a variety show but he broke down and had to stay backstage.”

You felt tears pricking your eyes as you whispered, “I thought he forgot about me…”

Doyoung shook his head, lifting it so he could smile at you. “Never. He was always telling us stories about things you both did when you were growing up. He felt so guilty when he stopped having time to talk to you, but we were all swamped with our schedules… Even having you here, he’s constantly worrying about you. I do, too…”

“Doyoung…”

“You said you don’t deserve to be happy… I believe everything happens for a reason. Your attempt lead you to me, and I’m determined to show you that you do deserve to be happy. You’re not a burden, you’re a beautiful human being who deserves the world.” He pulled his hand away to rest it on your cheek as he hovered above you. “There’s only one of you in this world, Y/N. And I… I love you.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of deceit but there was none. You only found sincerity, warmth and, most importantly, love. Your heart was racing in your rib cage.

“You don’t have to feel the same… I wasn’t planning on confessing.” He laughed awkwardly. “Even if you don’t feel the same, I want to remain friends. I know things are probably awkward now but I just felt like I should – ”

“Doyoung,”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

With a smile, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours. For the first time in your life, you wanted to keep living. You finally found the will to fight against the darkness.

He pulled away and you smiled brightly, feeling tears welling up in your eyes again. He wiped away your tears.

“I… I want to live.”

The smile that overtook Doyoung’s face was as bright as the sun. His eyes watered as he threw his arms around you, holding your body tight to his own. Four simple words, but it was enough for both of you.

You were tired of being a victim, enslaved by the darkness of depression. You were tired of feeling like a burden and wanting to die. You wanted to fight, to overcome it and, for the first time in your life, you felt confident that you could.

With Doyoung by your side, you were free to start again.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[that-70s-page]

Dear Friend | Part 2

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: The mutual pinings of best friends.

Words: ~2.4k

Warnings: Swearing, not much else, this chapter is pretty tame ;)

A/N: Here’s the second part! I finished a lot faster than I thought I would, so enjoy! I might not be as fast in the coming weeks since school starts soon :(

You wake up tangled in your sheets, feeling trapped and hot. You have a splitting headache, but thankfully don't feel too nauseous after last night’s drinking. You untangle yourself from your bed with a significant struggle, and fight to get your arms through an old The Who t-shirt of Roger’s that he had left in your room when he had borrowed your shower, claiming that ‘yours is cleaner and you hog all of the warm water.’

You step into the kitchen, yawning as you pull your tangled hair into a low, messy bun. The small hairs at the base of your neck tickle as you comb your fingers through it, and you glance over the countertop at the couch to see if Roger has gotten up yet.

��           He is still lying on the couch, deep asleep, with one arm flung across his chest and the other dangling off the side of the cushions. His hair is a mess; long golden strands covering his face, and the shorter tufts sticking up from the top of his head. He reminds you of a sleeping puppy, and you suppress a laugh, not wanting to wake him.

You pull out a bottle of Advil that is beginning to get dangerously low due to the band’s constant partying and shake out the remaining pills. You pop two of them into your mouth and swallow them with a sip of last night’s tea, which is now cold and bitter. You scrunch your nose up at the taste and tiptoe to Roger’s side, setting the last two painkillers next to his still full mug. You take the mug back into the kitchen and stick it into the ancient microwave you had picked up from a garage sale. You wince as it lets out a loud beep when you press start, hoping you haven't woken Roger up. The last thing you need to start your morning is a grumpy, hungover Roger Taylor. The microwave makes a broken whirring noise, and you watch the mug spin slowly inside of the box, becoming lost in thought.

Your memory of last night’s events is blurred from the alcohol, but you can distinctly remember your conversation with Thomas, and you wonder if he is the kind of guy who calls after one day. You can also remember quite clearly Roger’s odd behavior, and you wonder why he was being so hostile towards Thomas. You blame it partly on the amount of alcohol he had consumed, but you conclude that it was also because he is still worried about you dating someone after your last relationship, and he didn't want to see you get hurt again. 

Things with Lucas hadn't ended well, and it had taken a lot of time for you to heal after you broke up. Roger was the shoulder you cried on, he was there for you when you were convinced that no one would ever love you, and he made sure you knew that everything would be ok, because he loved you, and best friends were better than boyfriends. You were immensely grateful, and you definitely wouldn't have gotten through it without him. 

You still have trust issues after what happened, and you are very reluctant to start another serious relationship, but Thomas was sweet, and one date couldn’t hurt. That’s what you want Roger to understand. He has always been like a protective older brother to you, even though your birthday is three months before his. Sometimes you wish he would see you in a different light, rather than just being his best friend. You could never admit it to him, but you had liked him since you were 12, and that schoolgirl crush had turned into a much stronger feeling as the years passed. You had dated Lucas in an attempt to get over your feelings for your best friend, but that had only ended in heartbreak, and you were back to square one. 

Loving someone is painful, especially when you love them in multiple ways. Roger is your best friend, so you love him like a family member, and you have for most of your life, ever since you met in the third grade. That platonic love is a constant in your life; it is a calm pool of cool water, always available and always refreshing. But you are also in love with him, which is the part that hurts, the part you don’t want to admit, because you know that nothing good will come of it. That love is like fire; it burns your heart and leaves scorch marks across your body wherever he touches you. You know that he will never feel the same way, and he will never be able to settle down and live the domestic life you dream of. 

He is too busy with Queen, which is becoming more and more popular every day, and he is too obsessed with the chase. He gets bored easily, and moves from one girl to the next, never staying long enough to build a meaningful relationship. With each new girl he brings home, you are left with another chunk of your heart ripped from your chest, and each time she leaves, you silently pray that she will be the last; that he will finally realize who he is meant to be with and you can call yourself his girl. 

But Roger doesn’t have that unmistakable fire in him. Roger doesn’t share your longing for the deeper, romantic side of a relationship. He loves having short flings with women who are much more beautiful than you, and has sex rather than makes love.

You know that you could never be more, and that’s why you gave Thomas your number. You have already let your feelings for Roger become too strong, and you have to douse them in order to protect your still healing heart. You don't believe in soulmates, but if you did, you knew that Roger was yours. He was supposed to be the one. Despite all of that, you can’t risk losing your friendship over a silly love confession. He means too much to you, and even if you can’t be with him in that sense, you need him as your best friend.

A small cough sounds behind you and you jump, spinning around to look at a sleepy Roger leaning against the counter. You put a hand over your heart and make a face at him, “don't sneak up on me like that! I could have had a heart attack and died. How would you have liked that?” you say, pulling his tea out of the microwave that had been beeping for about two minutes.

“Wouldn't have liked that at all. Who would make my tea with you gone?” he replies, his voice husky from sleep.

You scoff in return and hand him his steaming mug, heart still going a mile a minute. You are so glad that he can't read minds, because he had snuck up on you during some of your most intimate and personal thoughts. Fuck, you thought, turning away from the drummer. How am I supposed to act calm and collected all the fucking time when he looks like that? 

Roger had taken off his button up from last night and was now standing in the kitchen wearing only his jeans. You had seen him like this many times obviously, after most shows and almost every morning, but it never fails to fluster you. You can practically feel his smirk burning into your back as you busy yourself with making toast for the both of you, and you turn around to cock an eyebrow at him.

“What?” you ask with an innocent smile, knowing full well why he is acting so cocky.

“That’s my shirt, love.”

“Yes Rog, how observant of you,” you roll your eyes, turning back to the toaster.

“I don't remember giving it to you, in fact, it’s one of my favorites,” he replies, coming closer to you and leaning over your shoulder to look at your face.

“Well, you left it in my room, so I adopted it after you abandoned it so heartlessly. That wasn't a very nice thing to do to your ‘favorite shirt’,” you smirk over your shoulder, trying to ignore the butterflies that have created a tornado in your stomach at his closeness.

“Guess you've got a point there, love,” he smiles, grabbing a slice of toast from your plate and moving to the fridge to get butter.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, and you feel the aching in your head slowly subside into a faint throbbing as you finish the tea and toast. You get up and carry the dishes into the kitchen, ruffling Roger’s bedhead as you pass him. He whines and shoves your hand away, trying in vain to fix his messy maine of blond locks. You laugh at his efforts and go to your room to get changed for the day. 

The bookstore you work at always gives you the early shifts, which normally would have bothered you, but it leaves you time in the evening to see Roger and the boys perform, so you don't mind the early mornings as much. You and Roger have fallen into a nice routine, with you usually waking up first and making a small, easy breakfast and him driving you to the bookstore on his way to the recording studio. You usually spend your lunch break with him at the studio or with your friends at the tiny strip mall next to your work.

This morning was the same as any other, the sun’s warm rays heating your cold room and washing away the grayness of dawn. You slip into a sweater and bell bottoms, and check to see if you are still wearing your necklace. It was given to you by your best friend before she moved, and you had promised to never take it off. You had been wearing it for three years now, and it was more of a comforting token than an actual piece of jewelry. You undo your messy bun and brush out your hair, making a clean part down the middle and pinning the front of it back. After putting on a small amount of makeup, you grab your coat from your messy closet and ball up Roger’s old t-shirt.

You wordlessly toss Roger his shirt and grab his keys from the counter, indicating that you're ready to leave. He lets out a high-pitched yelp when the shirt lands over his face and he puts it on over his still bare chest.

“Rog, that shirt is so not clean,” you wrinkle your nose at him.

“I don't care, I’m too lazy to get dressed and I don't want you to be late for work,” he replies, grabbing the keys from your hands. You roll your eyes and continue out the door, stopping when you see him sniff the armpits of the band tee. 

“I warned you. It probably stinks, I slept in it.”

His face contorts into a mixture of surprise and smugness, “It doesn't stink, it just smells like you. Plus, you wore that really good perfume last night, so it smells like vanilla,” he says in his raspy voice.

Your eyes widen at his words, shocked that he recognized the smell of your perfume, let alone noticed that you were wearing it last night.

“What?” he asks, his cheeks a rosy pink color.

“Nothing! It’s just a bit weird that you know my perfume,” you poke him, laughing at the redness spreading across his face.

“W-well, we bought it together, remember? I told you that you smelled bad- as a joke of course- and you got offended, so you dragged me to that little beauty store to buy some!” he stammers, locking the door behind him.

“Oh I remember Rogie, you spent the entire time complaining. I was surprised that the store owner didn't kick us out!”

“Oh, piss off,” he grumbles, walking past you towards the car.

You laugh and follow him, getting into the passenger side of his car. The only times he lets you drive are when he’s drunk or when he is too tired.

He rolls his eyes at you when you poke him in the ribs to show that you were kidding, but makes no attempt to further the playful banter, which is unusual for him. You give him a quick glance to make sure he isn't still grumpy from last night, expecting him to have that spacey expression he often gets on mornings after nights of drinking, but are met with his own eyes already on you. 

You can usually read him like a book, given how long you have known each other, but the look in his eyes the split second before he returns them to the road is something you have never seen before. It sends chills through your body, and you can’t help but wish he had kept his gaze on you, relishing the feeling of being under those twinkling blue eyes.

You catch yourself staring at him and swivel your head around to look out your window instead, the relaxed expression on your face masking the unsteady palpitations of your heart.

I hope Thomas calls soon. I need to get Roger out of my head.

You spend the rest of the short drive staring blankly out your window, ignoring Roger’s frequent glances in your direction. He drops you off at the quaint bookstore where you have been working for the past year, and you get out of the car with a quick goodbye. Before you can turn away, you feel his strong hand on your arm, immediately sensing the heat of his fingertips on your skin despite your thick sweater.

“You ok, love? You’re quiet.”

“Fine, Rog. Just a bit hungover.”

He nods, but you can see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe you. You force a smile and thank him for the ride, promising to visit the studio during your lunch break.

As you enter the bookstore and hear the familiar chime of the welcoming bell, you fail to notice Roger’s lingering stare watching you as you take your place behind the register and wait for the wave of morning customers. He sits in the car silently for a few more seconds, staring after you with a mixture of confusion and longing, before turning the key and easing out of the small parking lot and in the direction of Queen’s recording studio.

Part Three! 

Taglist: @benders-diamond-earring @brokenheartedjubilee @shutup-sorry @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @spaghetittiesbcimgay @lacontroller1991 @luvborhap @chlobo6 @turquiosenights @rogershoe

[lifesasickjoke]

The Dirt

The Dirt - part 3

part 2 - part 4

Pairing: Douglas!Nikki x Reader

Word count: 3105 

Chapter summary: With Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick becoming more and more popular with the crowds, (Y/N) gets dragged along with them. She attends every show, is invited to every after party, helps the boys get ready to perform, and even protects them from bar fights.

But one night, after a particularly successful show, maybe it's Nikki's turn to be there for (Y/N).

Warnings: Swearing and strippers

(Y/N)?’ Nikki softly whispered into my ear.

But it felt like a tickle so I brushed it aside, flopping myself over and burying my face in my pillow. I heard him sigh heavily and walk around my bed to the other side where I was facing.

‘(Y/N).’ he said a little louder.

There was something lightly brushing against my cheek, his hand I assumed, but then it quickly pulled back and ended up on my shoulder instead, he gently shook my arm.

‘What.’ I groaned and cracked open my eyes, my voice still stiff from sleep. I realized there was no light coming through the window to sting my eyes.

‘Nick, what time is it?’ I blindly reached to turn around my digital alarm clock.

02:35 in the morning. Fuck.

He smiled like he would whenever he wanted something from other people as he bent down to my eye level.

‘Can I borrow your leather pants?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Yeah. sure. If they fit.’ I sat up and stretched. Nikki cheered and strode out of my room, pants already in his hand.

As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes I realized something.

‘Wait no, he's gonna stretch them out.’

I kicked the blanket off me and sprinted after him.

‘You are going to be at the concert tonight, right?’ Nikki asked, sticking his head into the bathroom. I just finished tying my hair up.

‘Yeah, I took the day off.’ I opened the cupboard and took out my makeup bag and the brushes that lay next to it.

Nikki leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching me apply some mascara and eyeshadow.

I noticed him watching me apply the makeup with pure concentration through the reflection of the mirror.

‘What?’ I smiled.

His eyebrows creased together.

‘I think I might need your help with something.’

Later on that day, I was helping Nikki and the guys with their makeup. I refused the idea at first, but I couldn't resist Nikki's begging for long because he just becomes clingy and pouty at the same time. So here I was, sitting on the shelf table in one of the dressing rooms in the club the boys rented out for their first show.

I had Nikki’s chin between my fingers, and my foot rested on the little edge of the chair he was sitting on so I could balance my makeup palette on my knee.

I thought he was carefully studying what routine I had and how I applied the makeup, but judging by the teasing smirk on Tommy's face, it could be that he was actually just carefully studying me.

I rubbed my thumb into my more solid black eyeshadow. I gently cupped each of Nikki's cheeks and ran my thumb over his cheekbone, leaving behind a black streak.

When I was done I leaned back and admired my work, then jumped off the shelf table so Nikki could see himself in the mirror behind me.

‘Yeah! That's gnarly, dude.’ Tommy commented as he twirled his drumstick.

The door opened and closed, and Vince strode in, now having changed into his outfit.

‘Man, my girlfriend spent, like, 800 bucks on these leather pants.’ he laughed and squatted to stretch them out.

‘Don't stretch them out.’ I told him, but he completely ignored me (I'm guessing because he didn't hear me) and squatted even further.

‘You like ‘em?’ he asked Tommy, who was wearing similarly tight leather pants.

‘They're cool, bro.’ he agreed.

‘You say everything's cool, Drummer.’ grunted Mick. He wasn’t wrong. Judging by the number of times Tommy had used the word “cool” in the past hour, it started to sound like it was the only adjective he knew.

Nikki reached around my body to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels, which he handed to Vince.

‘Anyone else need anything?’ I asked, about to pack away the makeup palettes.

‘No thanks.’ Tommy replied with an excited smile.

Mick momentarily lowered his sunglasses when he saw me coming towards him so he could threaten me.

‘Bring that stuff anywhere near my face and I'll bite you.’

I put my hands up to surrender, and slowly packed away my makeup.

‘So you think there's gonna be anybody out there tonight?’ Vince asked, hopping onto the vanity table.

‘We put up enough fliers.’ Nikki replied as he was ruffling up his hair. ‘I hope so.’

‘Does anyone have the time?’ tommy asked, also checking himself out in front of the mirror with Vince and Nikki. I looked down at my wristwatch.

‘You guys have about fifteen minutes.’

I smiled at my boys proudly as they prepared for their official first show performance, but like always, they never saw it.

‘Alright,’ I cheered and got my purse, ‘I'll see you guys on the stage.’

‘Yeah, ok.’ the group replied.

‘Good luck!’ I wished them all.

There was a chorus of scattered applause as the band jumped onto the stage, radiant and prideful in their leather clothing. Everyone took their positions on the stage as the talking of the crowd quiet down to an awkward and unsure murmur. I tugged nervously at my crop top to pull it further down.

‘All right! We’re Mötley Crüe!’ Vince prompted. Tommy started softly playing the hi-hat in the background for suspense, but then it fell over with a louder crash. He swore and scrambled to pick it back up. The crowd around me started laughing and jeering.

‘You suck!’ a man in the crowd shouted.

‘Get off the stage!’ said another.

Nikki searched the crowd for me, and when he found me I gave him an apologetic head shake but an encouraging smile.

‘Come on, boys, let's rock this hole!’ Vince nodded. Tommy started playing the drums again, and Mick and Nikki followed with the guitar chords. Their opening song was "take me to the top".

The crowd around me murmured in confusion before the group of buff men in front of me started booing again.

‘Who’s the chick singer?’ the one with the long hair spat. The people around him laughed.

Vince stopped moving around the stage and jeered back, ‘fuck you, asshole.’

I saw the man quickly throw up two middle fingers before leaning forwards and spitting on Vince nice white leather pants. I gasped, disgusted, just like Vince was. Only he jumped off the stage and collided his fist with the man with the long hair.

The man punched him back, sending him stumbling backwards. The music stopped and I looked up at the stage and saw Nikki swinging around his guitar. It clashed with the man with the long hair.

The man fell and Nikki jumped off the stage onto the next guy that was advancing towards him. At this point, I was debating whether I go help him beat up the guys like I usually did, or if I needed a stronger drink.

What the hell I decided and quickly weaved through the crowd and towards Nikki.

The man that he jumped on was already on the ground, but his buddy had Nikki in a choke hold. I kicked said guy in the shins, hoping that none of his buddies were watching. He let go of Nikki and stumbled back.

Nikki store up at me in amazement as I grabbed his arm and helped him up.

‘Just like the old days.’ I chuckled at him before the next guy swung his fist into my general direction.

Nikki noticed him before I did. He grabbed my waist and spun we out of harm's way and intervened. I clumsily stumbled towards the stage because of the momentum Nikki pushed me with. I caught myself just in time to see Tommy also jumping off the stage. He soared through the air and knocked down his target.

I slipped back towards the sidelines of the fight, where Mick was on stage. The guy I punched got up and menacingly ran at me. I yelped and sidestepped out of his first punch.

‘(Y/N), duck.’ Mick said. So I did, and he kicked the guy running at me right in the face, knocking him out.

I laughed.

‘You’re awesome.’

Mick smiled and nodded, and started to strum his guitar.

The fight quickly broke apart because some buff security dudes that belonged to the venue intervened and pulled everyone apart. The bouncers thew the band back at the stage and pulled the other men outside.

Nikki helped Vince up, who had blood tainting his lips and teeth. Tommy jumped up with too much energy, ready for the next fight.

The crowd was silenced.

They were all backed up against the walls of the room to make space for the fighting.

I awkwardly shoved my hands into my pockets, hiding my face from the bouncers so I wouldn't be thrown out.

The last remaining bouncer seemed to be debating whether to let the boys continue playing or to throw them out too.

A shrill, high, voice suddenly bellowed out, scaring the living daylights out of me.

‘Fuck, yeah! Mötley Crüe!’

The man had started clapping, and soon, the rest of the crowd joined in. I laughed with the rest of the crowd and started cheering on my boys.

Nikki saw me cheer, and he started grinning. Tommy pulled him back onto the stage and the crowd followed them up to it, filling in the front of the room densely.  

After the show, I left the crowd and returned to the dressing room. The boys were already inside laughing loudly. I opened the door and met them with a great big smile, but I quickly stepped to Nikki, who was in the centre of the room and threw my arms around his neck. His arms instinctively wrapped around my back

‘That was amazing!’ I marvelled and pulled back from his chest. Nikki gently smiled down at me, with that signature smile only I got. The soft smile. It was the exact opposite of his signature smirk.

He didn't say anything but his eyes did. He didn't need to say anything to me, his smile said it all.

I melted on the inside.

‘You were amazing.’ I told him and unknowingly cupped his neck with both my hands before pulling away and turning to the rest of the guys.

‘You were all amazing.’

‘Are you kidding? We saw what you did to that one guy.’ tommy reflected my enthusiasm. He dove in for a hug as well. And how could I resist? I hugged his skinny waist.

‘That was nothing compared to you guys.’ I denied.

‘Also great singing.’ I turned to Vince. He smiled cockily and opened his arms for a hug too. It might have been an imagination of mine, but I was pretty sure his hands went lower than they were supposed to.

I broke free and finally turned to mick.

‘And thank you so much, for, you know…’ I mimicked the kick, causing the boys to cackle up a bit while mick cracked a small smile.

‘Anything for you’ he grunted as I hugged him as well. He was stiff at first but slowly relaxed into the hug.

I turned to all the boys once more.

‘You guys fucking killed it tonight. Let's hope you do the same at the concerts to come.’

There were already many people lined up outside the club, waiting to be let in. luckily, I had the backstage pass as well as a good relationship with the bouncer, who I served some dinner too once when I met him at the restaurant I worked at and gave him an idea for a potential job. I jogged down the road and past the lines of people. I might have even accidentally bumped into a tall man with long hair in a green and black striped shirt, but I was in too much of a hurry to properly apologize to him. I showed the bouncer my backstage pass card, and he let me wander through with a big friendly smile.

The boys had gotten used to doing another show as soon as possible after the last show ended. Today was no different than the others, besides the number of people already packed inside. As the venue got busier, there was no more space on the dance floor in front of the stage left, and even if I tried to squeeze myself into the crowd I would be rubbing against the person to my left, to my right, to my front, and to my back.

And I didn’t want another thing pressing into my backside as I danced.

No, today I sat at the bar with Vince's girlfriend. The blonde and bossy one. I met with her at the entrance of the venue and we walked to our reserved seats together. She was actually really sweet, and I had a great time going out with her to shop or for dinner. We sat on the barstool, sharing a serving of onion rings, and watched the boys play the same songs as they did every night.

The evening went well for me. I sang along with the crowd and sometimes even danced when my favourite song came on.

The evening didn't go so great for her.

Vince started flirting and singing to another girl in the crowd that was pressed up against the stage, and she slid off her chair and angrily stomped over the front of the room, pushing aside the people in the crowd to get there even faster.  

Later that evening when I was having a coke and talking to one of the guys I met, Vince's girlfriend found me and asked were Vince was. I pointed toward the general direction I saw him slip off to, and a minute later she came storming back, Vince's white pants flung over her shoulder, and Vince stumbling after her completely naked.

‘I fucking love those pants.’ he complained to me. I just shook my head, knowing exactly what had just happened.

By the time the boys finished their performance, the crowd was going crazy. And when the last song ended, the chantings didn't die down. It was obvious to me now, Mötley Crüe had made it.

The boys and I decided to celebrate another successful show down at the rainbow restaurant (strip club). The restaurant itself was practically made to fit every man's fantasy and had the three most favourable things for any man - the three B’s.

Boobs, Booze, and Blowjobs.

Yeah. Blowjobs. They had specific strippers here that offered them for little to nearly no pay. We were all sitting around a table, talking, laughing, and having a good time.

I sat between Nikki and Mick and laughed at something dumb Tommy was doing with the boys. I had a small order of fries in front of me as well, were Nikki once in a while took one from my plate. I would gently shove my elbow into his sides every time. Despite popular beliefs, Nikki is incredibly ticklish. He would jerk away as my elbow came into contact with his rib, but then laughed and pull me a little bit closer.

I could also start to tell mick getting a bit annoyed with our antics. He might have called us out for the ‘flirting’. The rest of the boys noticed it too.

A blonde girl came up to the table. At first, she looked like one of the people that came up to our table to congratulate and gush over the boys. But she didn't start her frantic speech about who or what she loved the best.

She smiled sweetly and sank down to her knees. The boys grew silent as they watched in anticipation as she slowly and sexually lifted up the red table cloth from the table.

I knew what she was going to do, and so did the rest of the boys. My heart began to race at an agonising fast pace as my chest became hotter and the air around me got heavier to breathe in.

The boys (excluding Mick, who had become a little bit uncomfortable as well) glanced at each other quizzically. They started laughing at each other.

Vince jumped in his seat suddenly, then his face twisted into one of pleasure.

Tommy and Nikki started to laugh violently. But I grew too uncomfortable with the whole situation. I didn't want to see this.

‘I'm gonna go get more drinks.’ I said in a fake, more upbeat tone and pushed myself off from the seat and climbed over Mick. ‘Who wants what?’

Beer for Tommy, jack and coke for Nikki, shots for Vince and vodka for Mick. I repeated the orders in my head as I tried to drown out the prostitutes and drunk men around me.

Beer for Tommy, jack and coke for Nikki, shots for Vince and vodka for Mick. I repeated in my head, trying to drown out the thoughts of Nikki getting a blow job right there.

Beer for Tommy, jack and coke for Nikki, shots for Vince and vodka for Mick. I repeated trying to calm myself down.

I finally reached the bar. All the seats close to it were occupied, so I leaned against it and waited patiently for the barman. Or woman. In this case.

She was wearing close to nothing as she danced around pouring drinks for the men on the bar stools. I waited for her to come to me for at least five minutes. Then I noticed that she wasn't even serving any drinks, and instead was flirting with one of the men.

‘Excuse me.’ I called her. She finally noticed me. Her face fell though as she walked over to me.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘Hey, aren't you a little late for your shift? Go get changed.’

I store at her funnily. ‘My shift?’

She scoffed, ‘you work here, don't you?’

‘Uh what? No, I don't work here. No.’ I stammered.

The lady looked me up and down.

‘Oh. sorry. What can I get you?’ her whole persona changed.

‘Ah y-yes. A beer, a jack and coke, three shots, a soda and vodka.’

The lady nodded and started getting out the drinks.

I turned back at the table where the boys were sitting. They seem to be having the time of their life. Especially Nikki. I caught him throwing his head back in pleasure. The rest of the guys laughed maniacally.

I gritted my teeth and turned to the bartender.

‘Actually, strike out the soda. I need something a little stronger.’

Tag list: @getthefckouttahere @kingbouji3 @fandomshit6000 @spookyfrances @kwyloz @triplehaitches @myheadisinvaded @wonderboygenius @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @kawennote09 @the-dopemusiccoffee @versaceismehoe @glitter-rian @miss-ncthing @flizaa @evanpeters3826 @divaanya @extremesadnerding @oskea93

Let me know if I should tag you :D

ONce AGAIN Hasu, you are the best, love you forever, stay awesome.  

[svubloods]

Imagine being set up on a date with Danny

(A/N: Not edited. Sorry, it’s awful, I’m telling you in an advance. I’m aware that I mentioned taking a break which I am so I’m not ignoring you. But this was almost finished and you had all waited long enough because I barely know what I’m doing anymore) 

Imagine being set up on a date with Danny

“Reagan?” You questioned, hoping you were wrong, but as the man turned around to look at you from his seat on the bar, you realised you were right.

“Y/L/N?” He shot back his eyes widened in shock as they locked eyes with yours and his body tensing at the sight of it, “Oh wow!”

His words were helpless as if they just slipped out of his mouth, as you caught the moment his eyes looked you up and down, drinking you in. You had tried for tonight, wearing something that you would usually wouldn't wear but your best friend and colleague Kate instead that you looked fantastic in the clingy velvet red dress she’d picked for you. Wearing more dramatic make-up with your hair done. It was supposed to be a first date after all and even though it had been a while and you had protested about going, you did want to make an effort. Even your brother Ethan had complimented you, so you knew you looked decent.

But you couldn't focus on your blind date right now. You were too focused on the man in front of you. The only person you didn't want to see tonight.

“What are you doing here?” You accused.

“What are you doing here,” He repeated, “Wait, did you follow me here?”

“You wish,” You jeered, folding your arms and glaring at him.

“Well, it isn't much a stretch,” He snapped, “What are you doing? Writing another article about awful I am,”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Reagan,” You sneered, “And I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. My article was on the NYPD’s Major Crimes Department, not you,”

“Well, I’m the Head Detective of that department so it’s basically about me,” He waved off dismissively.

“Of course you would think that,” You laughed dryly, “You’re such an egotistical bastard,”

“In the flesh,” He winked.

You shook your head at him and gripped your folded arms tightly, seething. Of course on the one night you let yourself be forced to go on a blind date, he was here. And now you were not only going embarrass yourself, but you were also going to have an audience. This was the last place you would have expected to see him, an upscale modern restaurant in Manhattan, one of the most popular in the city, though to be honest, it was the last place anyone who knew you would look for you too.

You took a deep breath and looked at him again.

“You still haven't told me why you are here,” You reminded.

“What’s it to you?” He fired back, “Going to write another article about it?”

“Depends,” You shrugged, “Is it worth writing a story about?”

“Do you want to sit?” He asked avoiding the question.

“With you?” You asked, sceptically.

“You can stand their and glare if you want,” He shrugged before turning back around and looking straight at the bar.

You bit your lip before sitting down beside him with a huff, your date wasn't here yet anyway so you might as well take a seat and get a drink while you waited for whoever this mystery man was.

“What’s your poison?” He inquired before taking a swig of his beer.

You rolled your eyes at him before pointedly making eye contact with the bartender, “I’ll have a beer please,”

You saw Danny smirk as he took another sip. You looked him over for a second. In your annoyance, you hadn't noticed how differently he looked tonight. In all your previous encounters with him, he was always dressed up for work. So he looked smart if not a little ruffled in a suit. Tonight he was wearing a white dress shirt, with a skinny coloured tie and tighter pants than usual. Which you surprised yourself by noticing, He looked good though, nicer than usual but you knew you always thought he looked good. But like always you shook of any nice thoughts you ever had for Danny Reagan. He had become the bane of your life ever since you had met a couple months ago and ever encounter left you annoyed and not furious. And he obviously felt the same. You got under his skin as much as got under yours.

“If you must know I’m waiting for my date,” He finally admitted after a brief but surprisingly comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Oh,” You acknowledged, an undeniable sinking feeling settling in your stomach, were you disappointed? Were you jealous? No, you couldn't be, ignoring the feeling and masking it in your voice so he wouldn't pick up on it.

What right did you have to be jealous, anyway, you didn't even like him.

You met Danny while you were researching a possible corruption scandal within the NYPD a couple months ago. You worked as an investigative journalist and though you usually investigated Big Corporations, your boss thought you would be perfect for this job.

And he was right, you weren't ashamed to admit you were damn good at what you did but then again you had to be. You needed those promotions, advances and bonuses, you needed them to survive. So you worked hard, you were ruthless and you and your family were comfortable especially now as one of the youngest ever senior contributors in your papers history. But you still threw yourself into work every day, letting it take over your life in a way because you knew at any second something could happen and change your whole world. It had happened before, so you needed to be prepared. At all times. Which meant besides sleeping and taking care of your brother all you did was work.  

So you went in fully admitting that you were a reporter but hid the real intention and subject matter of your article secret and giving them something else. You had been given a name that your tip had said was the one they knew for sure was taking bribes. But you wanted your story to be fully fleshed out and for that, you needed all the details. Everyone was very forthcoming at that department expect for Daniel Reagan, who admitted openly that he couldn't stand reporters. And you’d met types like him before and you could be extremely charming when you wanted to be, anything for what you wanted. But you couldn't charm him, in fact, you annoyed him as much as annoyed you.

You continuously butted heads and he was the only one to suspect that you might have some alter motive with your sneaking around and even though he was right you weren't about to give him any of the satisfaction. You had a couple of heated arguments about it all, surprising as no one could get to you like he could. You did back off a little and made your investigating more covert after the last one before publishing your story which ran on the front page. Which made Danny even more annoyed as he was the face of the department as Head Detective. But your article focused on one particular officer in the department after you figured out that he was the only one taking bribes and everyone else, including Danny, were very good at what they did. Danny did track you down and confronted you about the article and you defended it to no end. The people deserved to know that the cop in question had been covering up crimes and taking bribes for his almost forty-year career.

And even though Danny accused you of lying and blindsiding the NYPD at the time. That was true either. You had respect for cops and what they did every day and you weren't going to start a major scandal that could ruin the people's trust in them. So you made sure to inform the internal affairs department before the article with all the evidence so they had the upper hand. And you were sure Danny didn't know it at the time but you had even talked to the Commissioner of the NYPD who you found out was Danny’s father. And he thanked you for exposing essentially a criminal within the NYPD which they didn't know about.

But ever since Danny, didn't like you. Perhaps it was pride or something else but either way you didn't get on. And after everything was said and done and you thought you would never see him again and yet you just kept on bumping into each other around the city and every single time, you would both mess with each other even more. The last time you had run into each other you were been shopping for groceries with your brother and he was there as well.

Your brother thought it was hilarious how quickly you guys became engulfed into an argument seemingly unable to have a conversation without antagonising each other despite it being a short encounter. He left quickly because of work and you spent the next fifteen minutes complaining about him which just led to you brother teasing you about it for the rest of the day, just like your best friend and colleague Kate did whenever you complain to her about him too.

“So who's the unlucky girl?”

He turned to face you directly, a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by the hostess appearing behind you both.

“Mr Reagan, your table is ready,” He smiled, two menus in his hand.

“My date isn't here yet though,” Danny informed.

“Is this not…” He began to question, looking at you.

“Oh no,” Danny waved off, “This is…”

“We’re not together,” You piped up.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking puzzled, “The reservation by Mrs Franklin had both of your names listed,” 

“Whose Mrs Franklin?” Danny demanded.

“My best friend Kate,” You informed, “This is her husband’s restaurant,”

“I still don't understand. I’m here because my sister set me up on a blind date,” Danny began to explain still confused.

“Wait you are?” You interrogated, looking straight at him and catching his eye in shock, “Because I am too,”

“Are you messing with me?” He accused. 

“No, Kate set me up on a blind date, she sorted everything out and just told me to turn up here at 8,” You elaborated.

“My sister told me the exact same thing,” He confessed, “Though she added that she had found me the perfect date,”

“You sister’s the DA, right?”

He nodded.

“Kate is a court reporter. They must know each other and set us up,” You deduced.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Oh, I wish I was kidding,” You seethed, “I can't believe she would do this. After all the times I told her how annoying you are,”

“Obviously, this is some kind of a joke because I told my sister all about you,” Danny huffed without thinking.

“Really?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Oh don't act like you didn't admit about talking about me constantly,” He snapped, rolling his eyes.

“With disdain,” You added insistently.

“So can I take you both to your table?” The hostess, taking the brief pause as an opportunity to interrupt you both.

You both wordlessly snatched your jackets and headed over to the table where you were seated opposite each other. You watched each other as you both silently scanned the menus. Both of you clearly acting like you didn't want to be there yet either of you protested or made an attempt to leave.

“You nervous Reagan?” You finally asked, eyeing him up from across the table unable to hide the amused grin on your face as he seemed to squirm under your gaze.

“You wish,” He countered, quickly, “I can't believe she would set me up with you out of all people. After…you know you just weren't the person I was expecting to be spending dinner with,”

“Who were you expecting?” You entertained, “Considering this a blind date and all?”

“I don’t know anyone but you,” He sighed.

“Anyone but the person you confronted in the middle of the street about an article she wrote about your department while she was just trying to get coffee?” You offered, blankly with a false smile.

“Exactly,” He muttered.

An awkward silence developed between the two of you and lingered along with the tension, incessant and ruthless, filled with heavy breathing and the sounds of a bustling, upscale Manhattan restaurant. A waiter came over and took your drinks order while you both separately pursued the menus. Coming back with your drinks before leaving you in silence again.

“Well, this blows,” Danny huffed from across the table, his palms pressing against the table as he looked from side to side, scanning the restaurant around you.

“Tell me about it,” You agreed, folding your arms across your chest and purposely trying not to glare exactly at him, your usual confidence apparently disappearing but you were determined to hold your own.

“And just for the record if I knew it was you, I wouldn't have come, okay?” He insisted unconvincingly, leaning across the table slightly towards you before jerking away and leaning back in chair uncomfortably.

“Likewise,” You muttered, not looking at him still, cursing yourself, you had so much more to say to him.

“I should just go,” Danny announced, grabbing his phone and wallet from the table, “I’d rather waste my money on food that I’ll actually enjoy,”

“Why are you worried about that?” You questioned, taking a sip of your wine, “Dinner’s on the house tonight,”

“What why?” He counted, settling in his seat ever so slightly.

“My best friend Kate and I’m assuming your sister are covering the bill tonight,” You informed, “I guess to try and minimise the chance either of us walking out on this,” 


“Well, I’m never going to turn down free food,” He stated, with a confident smirk.

“I’ll toast to that!” You chuckled eagerly, lightening up a little.

“How about a toast to making it through tonight without you throwing a drink on each other,” He suggested, raising his second beer to you, “Cheers?”

“Cheers!” You agreed after pausing for a second, thinking it over.

You had promised Kate and Ethan that you would try on this date and not make any excuses to leave. Which was a promise you found weird at the time and now you understood why they had. They had clearly set all of this up maybe as a joke or perhaps as revenge for always complaining about how annoying Danny was to them.

You and Danny proceeded to make idle small talk before and after you ordered your three courses. It was only after the starters arrived, all those topics had been covered and you figured while you were both partially distracted it was the best time to ask.

“So…” You started.

“So…” He echoed, mockingly before taking a hearty bite.

“I’m trying to figure out what would have lead to your sister and my best friend coming to the conclusion that setting us up on a date would be a good idea,” You explained.

“Well, I have mentioned you to her a couple of times,” He confessed, looking down.

“Romantically?” You questioned, taken aback.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” He warned, flatly, “At first it was about you and your story and then it was about your article and then it was how you were always getting on my nerves,”

“You started it,” You insisted. “What about you?” He demanded, changing the subject, “Why would your friend think this would be a good idea,”

“Well similarly to you I may have mentioned you a couple of times,” You sighed, “All of which including a less favourable description of you being the bane of my existence,”

“Don’t you think that’s a tad dramatic,” He quipped.

“Not as dramatic as that tie you're wearing,” You fired back referencing the brightly patterned tie he was wearing.

“My son bought this for me. He said it would bring me good luck on my date,” Danny revealed, smiling down at his tie.

“Is it working?”

“It’s not not working,” He grinned at you, “It could be worse,”

“It looks good on you,” You agreed shyly, “You suit the dramatic look,”

“I guess Erin may have thought that I had a little crush on you,” He continued, “She said it was because I wouldn't stop talking about you,”

You let hearty laugh in response.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” He muttered.

“No,” You continued in an attempt to clear things up, “I’m laughing because Kate and my Brother said the exact the same thing. That you annoyed me so much because I liked you…romantically,”

“Oh,” He acknowledged, clearly surprised, “Was she right,”

“Maybe,” You teased, not looking him in eye and running your tongue over your lips.

“Well, the feeling is mutual if it is,” He said confidently.

“Really?”

“You’ve seen yourself right?” He chuckled, “Way too pretty to be at dinner with me,”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” You defended, “Plus, I’m never usually this dressed up. I just wanted to make a good impression…”

“Check,”

“And this place is way too fancy for my usual non-work attire,” You continued, beaming.

“Tell me about it,” He agreed, “If I’m not working, I’m not wearing a suit,”

“This isn't even my dress,” You added, “The kid insisted I wear one of my friends or it wouldn't look I was trying,”

“The kid?” Danny asked.

“Oh Ethan,” You corrected, “You met him at the store. I didn't have a chance to properly introduce him between our arguing,” 

“I didn't know you had a kid,”

“Well, he’s not actually my kid,” You attempted to try and reason, “He is my baby brother but it’s been just been the two of us for so long. He’s basically my kid, I’m only parent he’s got,”

“I have two boys,” He smiled with evident understanding.

“I saw a picture of them on your desk with…” You remembered before trailing my wife.

“Their mom,” He finished for you, smiling fondly at you but his eyes filled with sadness, “She died a couple years ago now and ever since then it’s just been the three of us,”

“I’m sorry Danny,” You comforted and without thinking but thoughts wouldn't have changed your action, either way, reaching across the table and grasping his hand.

“Don’t be,” He shrugged off, squeezing your hand a little, “It’s been a while and I have dated since. Linda made it clear that she would want me to move on if anything happened. She just said make sure they were a good person and be a good influence on the boys,”

You nodded in understanding.

“This is not something you should bring up on a first date,” He sighed uncharacteristically apologetic.

“I get it, Danny,” You soothed, “I’m a single parent too I guess,”

“You are,”

“And I know how hard it can be especially with the whole dating thing,” You sympathised, “This is my first date in almost two years,”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my whole life since my parents died has been about working so I can take care of Ethan and being there for him so you know he didn't miss out on anything. Which meant I didn't have a lot of time to myself,”

“What changed?”

“He’s going to college,” You beamed, proudly.

“Where?”

“Stanford for Pre Med,” You revealed.

“That’s amazing,” Danny congratulated, “He must be a smart kid,”

“The smartest, way smarter than me,”

“San Fransisco is far though,” Danny acknowledged.

“Yeah, which is why I think he was so insistent that I go on his date,” You breathed, “I think he’s trying to make sure I’m not lonely when he goes,”

“Make sure you thank him for me,”

“Will do,”

The night continued proceeded pretty well. You and Danny deep in conversation getting to know each other beyond what you already knew. He even ended up apologising for the overreaction to the article, explaining that he took his forestation out on me, as the detective in question was his hire and he was upset that he didn't pick up on what was happening, as the head detective, sooner.

Danny helped you to put your coat on as you made your way out the restaurant together. You had spent hours there so it was late and Danny insisted on walking you back to your apartment that was close by.

“Can I ask you something?” Danny inquired as you made your way down the dark and empty Manhattan streets, your arms linked together, you didn't know how it happened but neither of you were making an effort to disentangle yourselves.

“Shoot,” You agreed.

“Why investigative journalism?” He pondered out loud to you.

“It actually wasn’t the original dream,” You confessed, “My whole life I dreamed of being on air correspondent doing international affairs but you can’t travel all over the world with a kid so I had to change my plans quickly. I needed a job that was flexible and preferably I could do at home. So  I took this crappy job as a fluff writer for this smaller paper. It sucked but it paid well enough. I thought I would do that forever. But then I was invited to a college friends wedding,”

“A wedding?” He questioned, sceptically.

“I’m not finished,” You stated before continuing, “My friend was marrying into the richest family in her little town. And it all seemed like a fairytale but something was off. And I couldn't shake the feeling so all weekend I did some digging and I knew something was up especially after the groom went missing. I had to stay and get to the bottom of it because everyone was trying to cover it up including the local PD. So I called my boss and told him that I was chasing a story, she thought it wasn't worth pursuing and said I was fired if I didn't turn up on Monday,”

“What happened Monday?”

“I found out that the family had built their fortune in the 70s by smuggling for the Serbian Mafia and that that they had called favour which the family refused so they were holding their son hostage,” You revealed, “And I was fired but it didn't matter. I collected my evidence, gave it to the FBI, wrote my article which was published on the front page on the most popular newspaper in the country. Who offered me a job. And I’ve been exposing fortune five hundreds ever since,”

“You caught the bug,” He chuckled.

“There is something exhilarating about cracking a case open,” You sighed, contentedly, “What about you, why did you become a cop?”

“You’re not allowed to do anything else in my family,” He joked, before pausing and continuing, “I knew I was halfway decent at it and what’s better than making the city a better place?”

“I guess we can’t all have exciting origin stories,” You commented, teasingly.

“Har har,” He snapped, rolling his eyes.

“This is me,” You announced, looking up to see your apartment building.

A silence consumed you both as you let go of him and took the first step up the stoop. You turned around to face him.

“So,”

“So,” He echoed.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,”

“Me too,” He grinned sheepishly, “We should do it again sometime,”

“Really?” You let out helplessly.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “I really do like you, Y/N,”

“I like you too,” You smiled, “But…”

“But?” He repeated with an almost defeated look on his face.

“I also don't want to give Kate or Ethan the satisfaction of knowing they were right about us,”

“I’ll never hear the end of it if Erin hears this went well especially the second date well,” He shared in agreement.

“So what are you going to say happened?” You inquired.

“That I bolted as soon as I saw you and spent the night at a bar,” He winked.

“You dick,” You giggled.

“Yeah, yeah,” He played off, “What are you going to say?” 
 “That I threw my drink at you before you could say hello and walked out.,”

“What, why?”

“It’s funny,” You smirked.

“I’ll take it,” He sighed, “But only because we have a second date,”

“We do indeed,” You said, “Text me the details,”

“I’ll call you,” He insisted.

“Such a gentleman,” You joked, “Goodnight Danny,”

“Night,” He returned before you walked up the steps, turning back around at the top by the door to wave at him as he was waiting of you go inside.

As you spun around, your eyes met and he headed up the stairs after you.

“You forget something, Reagan?” You questioned, puzzled, as you looked into his eyes and your breath caught in your throat as you registered how close you really were to each other.

He nodded before whispering, inches away from your face, “This,”

And with that, he pulled you into a kiss. His hand sliding around your waist to steady you as you were losing balance in your attempt not to break contact. Your arms flung around his neck as you pressed yourself into him even more, letting go and giving into your impulses.

Eventually, you pulled away breathless but content, “Satisfied?”

“More than you know,” He winked before pressing a final kiss on your cheek, “Goodnight,”

“Goodbye Danny,” You whispered before he headed down the steps and disappeared into the night.

He wasn't gone for too long though. Calling you the next day to arrange your second date.

[docholligay]

Aino’s 8: Chapter 4--A Diamond Chip Charm

This was meant to be published yesterday, but I was feverish and so parts of it, um, didn’t make sense, so I fixed it this morning and here we are. If you would have told me Usagi was going to get her own section, I would have laughed openly. BUT HERE WE ARE. Sponsored by @yamadara87 PLEASE THANK HER IF YOU LIKE THIS (also, Rachelle, your beloved, “Michiru pampering Usagi” is here). All of Aino’s 8 is here. 

“There is, I am afraid, another matter.” Michiru looked over at Rei as they sat, a small dessert between them that Rei knew Michiru had no intention of touching.

There was always another matter with Michiru.

Rei studied her face, trying to figure out what she could possibly mean. With Michiru, it could be anything from needing to borrow a pen to needing to blow up your apartment, and there seemed to be little difference to her, other than the paperwork involved.

It was difficult, dealing with an heiress.

“What?” Rei finally growled, going over in her mind what else there could be to bring up in a conversation that had covered the already-loaded topic of Minako Aino and what had transpired between her and Rei, all those years ago. She would have thought that was the whole of the “other matters.”

“I find myself rather in need of a lovely and....organic, shall we say, type of distraction. Someone with both innocence and charm--” Rei looked at her suspiciously, but she simply inclined her head to the side, as if it were the most obvious thing in all the world. “Well, Rei, I do regret to inform you that those attending are mostly familiar with my charms. Any attempt to distract might be met with an equal parry, but, someone with a bit of a different angle..”

Usagi. It came like bolt into Rei’s brain. But how did she know Usagi? Michiru never hung around here, it wasn’t her sort of place, and Usagi was certainly not her sort of people. There was a time Rei herself might have said that Usagi was not her sort of people, a chipper and emotional girl with a soft body and bright eyes who slung noodles at the shop around the corner from Rei’s apartment.

But time had softened Rei to certain things, and with the considerable disappointment of her own Robin Hood having been less virtuous than she had imagined nestled in her chest, Rei had opened up to the kind girl in the noodle shop, the one who always recognized her despite a hoodie pulled high over her head.

“No.”

It was as much impulse as anything else, and Michiru simply gave a small sigh of irritation, as if she simply could not find a parking spot.

“Let’s us--”

“How do you know who she is?” Rei was leaned over the table now, having quite remembered herself. “Have you been following me--”

“Oh, as if I have the time to gad about--”

Fresh off remembering herself, Rei managed to remember Michiru. “Have you been having me followed?”  

“Now, there is a bit more specificity,” she took a sip of her wine, “what a charmless way to put it, but it does have a touch of brevity I appreciate.” She shook her head. “I was not, as you say, having you followed. I merely make it my business to know where my most valuable associates are and with whom they are associating. She does seem a particular sort of girl--”

Rei scowled. “She doesn’t want to be involved.”

“Doesn’t she?” Michiru leaned forward. “I do seem to recall that she had designs on attending some sort of photography school. Could that be the art school in which my family holds a board position? I simply can’t recall, you’ll forgive me my absent-mindedness.”

Rei looked at Michiru and saw her smiling. Michiru was teasing her, in the only way she knew how. And perhaps she was right. A night’s work for Usagi, getting a share of the take, and if Michiru was being truthful about her willingness to get Usagi a space in the school...This was something Rei had never been able to do for Usagi, not over the few years she’d known her. She lacked Michiru’s above-ground connections, and she couldn’t simply donate her way to admission without raising alarm.

Even if it wasn’t the school her family held, she could donate a building and slip Usagi into the school with little question.

Being friends with a billionaire heiress was aggravating and helpful, all at once.

But there was always the chance of going to prison, when running a job. It lurked in the darkness like a monster, and while the light of Michiru’s money and power had mostly kept them from being snatched, the idea of it happening to Usagi was enough to give her pause.

“Don’t let her go to prison.” She wagged her finger at Michiru, who smiled appreciatively.

“My dear, I have no intention of allowing any of us to go to prison.”

She crossed her arms . “You can let Mina go back to prison.”

___

Usagi was sweet, and eager to please, and, above all other things, she was an utterly distracting human being, which was precisely what Michiru needed. Someone without much grace or careful airs, someone who would manage to flummox them all by the very nature of her inability to blend.

“Now, Usagi,” Michiru walked next to her on the street, “there is a question of backstory. Why are you there? What possible reason might you have to be at such a gala?”

Usagi thought for a moment, which at least gave Michiru hope. She could not hope to be spoonfed the answers to these sort of things. Lying was merely about thinking on your feet. It was improvisational acting, in its most harrowing form.

“I’m there with someone!” She perked up, and then furrowed her brow again, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, and then her eyes grew wide again, “Like as a paid date!”

Michiru gave a laugh that half seemed like appreciation. “A call girl, a splendid idea, it will explain both your beauty and your lack of high manners,” She looked at Usagi, shaking her head, “This is not to say I have not know a great many women of various entertainments in possession of great learning and whom with I have had many spirited conversations, but, popular ideas endure.”

But Usagi’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were starred, hearing scarcely anything Michiru said after declaring Usagi a beauty.

Michiru was like nothing Usagi had ever seen before. She knew Rei worked with all kinds of people around the world, and that a lot of them were rich, or undercover, but most of the ones she had seen skulking about Rei’s apartment wore hoodies and ate burritos or were tall men in suits. But Michiru smelled of flowers even on the streets, her hair curled and dipped in elegant teal waves that were both perfect and effortless,her dress seemed to not be worn but instead flow around her as if the fabric had simply decided it wanted to be in her company, and she spoke like a governess from one of Usagi’s romance novels. When she had appeared in the alleyway behind the noodle shop, she had looked like a piece of classical art, leaned against the bricks of the dark byway, something that utterly didn’t belong, something that almost made you feel you were party to a crime to look at it.

And she thought Usagi was pretty.

“You will require a new sort of wardrobe, but that can be easily had,” She gestured to the designer stores surrounding them, “off the rack. At my expense, of course, and you certainly may keep it after, I have no need of it.”

Usagi thought for a moment. ‘I thought I wasn’t supposed to be classy. Did you say that?”

Michiru smiled at her in a knowing way, as elegant as if posing for a portrait,. “My darling, sophistication and money are in no way synonyms. There are quite a few things in the world which manage to be both indicative of wealth and terribly garish. We require you to appear a lapdog, not a show dog. The sort of girl a man might bring simply because he enjoyed your excitement at the idea.”

Usagi was not entirely certain that was meant to be a compliment, but it was hard to tell how anything was intended, the way Michiru said it. Everything she said was half puzzle and half poem, and Usagi was excited at the prospect of working with her, even unsure of what she had gotten herself into.

Maybe moreso because she wasn’t sure. She had always been Usagi Tsukino, a crybaby who was never good at school and loved food, nothing remarkable about her in the slightest. But this, when Michiru had offered her this, she had felt a strange sense of power, as if there had always been something inside her, waiting to be released, and only now could she feel it. Here, among these fine clothes and shoes and with the help of her strangely distant yet knowledgeable guide, she felt transformed into something else. Something wonderful.

Michiru took her into a small store with a name Usagi had never encountered, breezing into it as if it were a Daiso.

“I’m afraid we have no time for couture,” she gave a slight wave of her hand, “But I suppose we are molding you to be the kind of girl who might never wear couture anyhow, and these are perfectly accessible off the rack.”

Usagi looked around at the gowns, the most beautiful things she’d ever seen, covered in lace and flowers, sheer in spots and ruffled in others, and her mouth involuntarily swung open as she stared around the spare elegance of the showroom. Michiru looked less impressed as she eyed the gowns, but clicked delicately toward the center of the showroom as a woman approached her, head high and attentive.

“We will, of course,” She said, looking back at Usagi, “make arrangements for your casual wear, but the matter of the gown needs be settled quite immediately.”

Usagi nodded, still caught up in the rapture of pinks and blues and flowers and spangles.

Michiru turned back to the woman in front of her. “I am afraid we have a matter of some urgency, but I am certain you will be able to assist me. This young lady,” She inclined her head to Usagi, who had walked up next to her, “is in need of a formal gown, and right away. I assume you have some sort of tailor available to hem in the coming days.”

Usagi was not quite sure if the woman recognized Michiru as the heiress Rei had said she was, or if she simply exuded the sort of power that made people want to obey her, but in any case, the woman nodded quickly and smiled at Usagi in masked politeness, giving her Hello Kitty sweater the once and twice over.

“And what might you be looking for today?”

Usagi looked at the gowns again, uncertain of how to answer. They were all beautiful, all far beyond what she’d ever imagined herself in even in her wildest dreams. She walked slowly toward one of the dresses, blue with embroidered flowers down the whole of it, two lace puffs descending down the sides, floating like clouds down a mountain.

Usagi touched it reverently, quieter than even she believed she could be.

Michiru nodded, and the shop woman quickly took a measuring tape out of her pocket, measuring Usagi quickly.

“I was hopeful,” she said, looking at Michiru, “That you might be looking for a gown, as well.”

Michiru crossed her arms delicately. “I was rather hopeful that you would pay attention to the customer with which I’d provided you.”

Chastened, she turned back to Usagi and gave a closed-mouth smile. “I will see if we have your size in the back.”

Michiru stepped toward Usagi and touched her shoulder with genuine kindness. “You realize you are permitted to try as many as you like. I admit, I wish for you to wear something in this style of gaudiness,” the attendant wrinkled her nose, but Michiru paid her no mind, “But I should also hope you rather like it. It will be yours to keep for as long as you wish to own it.”

Usagi looked at her. “Can I try on all of them?”

“I would be delighted if you did,” she turned to the woman, “and I am certain she would love to assist us. I could use a chair and a glass of sparkling, if you’d be so kind.”

The woman hustled toward the back, and Michiru sat down in the plush velvet chair, looking at Usagi, who was already staring at herself in the mirror with a sense of beauty and wonder. She looked back to Michiru, puffing out her chest in a bit of bravado and trying to smile.

Michiru crossed her ankles, and set her hands delicately on her lap, looking at Usagi warmly.

“I should hope you will give me a proper fashion show. I’ve hardly seen this collection.”

Usagi beamed.

[kentonramsey]

These 5 Dresses Were Everywhere This Summer

Every summer, there is one dress that everyone, from celebrities and influencers to consumers, seems to have — or at least thought about. Often, it’s from Zara, as was the case last year with the Spanish giant’s viral polka-dot dress. (Ganni’s green gingham dress followed closely behind, but more on that later.) Given how the pandemic has affected the last few five months, forcing everyone indoors and into matching sweatsuits, it seemed like maybe there wouldn’t be a dress of summer 2020 at all. But, while we indeed haven’t left our houses much, there were still several warm-weather frocks that have dominated our Instagram feeds. Some were in tune with our new lifestyles (hi, nightgown dresses), while others were surprisingly (and delightfully!) more fanciful. Amidst the pandemic, these were the styles that were in high demand — even if they were showcased with the couch as the background, instead of the Mediterranean sea.  Ahead, five dresses that could easily hold the title of 2020 dress of the summer. The best part: If not available to buy right now, all the styles can be at least pre-ordered. At Refinery29, we’re here to help you navigate this overwhelming world of stuff. All of our market picks are independently selected and curated by the editorial team. If you buy something we link to on our site, Refinery29 may earn commission.

Cult Gaia Serita 

The first contender came in May when Rosie Huntington-Whiteley appeared in a sand-colored maxi knit dress with side cutouts by Cult Gaia. No stranger to viral fame, the brand previously made Instagram waves with its Ark bag, which has since been seen on the arms of every A-lister ranging from Beyoncé to Emma Stone.  Next, the Serita dress appeared on other models like Romee Strijd (while she announced her pregnancy, no less) and Hailey Bieber, as well as Kourtney Kardashian and Camille Charrière. In Lyst’s Q2 report, which compiles the most in-demand fashion every quarter, Serita landed in number 5 for the hottest women’s product; in June, the search for the dress spiked 236%. In addition to sand, the dress is also available in an amber and off-white white (ahem, pandemic wedding dress) colours.

Cult Gaia Serita Dress, $, available at Revolve

Cult Gaia Serita Dress, $, available at Revolve

Cult Gaia Cult Gaia Serita Dress - Sand, $, available at Cult Gaia

Ganni Seersucker Check Maxi The finalist for Dress of Summer 2019 — the style’s sell-through rate was 80% for six weeks last year — Ganni’s green gingham maxi returned this summer, too, albeit in other colours, including black, as seen on Knives Out star Ana de Armas, and rainbow, as seen on everyone on Instagram. With an elasticised, smocked bodice and ruffled straps, the dress from the popular Danish fashion brand will likely continue making its rounds, and for a good reason. Not only is it perfect to take outside but also cozy enough to wear at home.

Ganni Multicolour Seersucker Check Maxi Dress, $, available at Ganni

Ganni Seersucker Check Maxi Dress, $, available at Farfetch

Ganni Checked Seersucker Maxi Dress, $, available at Browns

House of Sunny Hockney Dress

If an acid green hue is what you’re missing, there’s another summer contender, and it comes from the sustainably-minded brand House of Sunny. Worn most recently by Kendall Jenner, the style has already sold out three times (tip: you can pre-order drop four right now). Inspired by the art of, you guessed, David Hockney, the ‘70s-like knit slip dress features a water print and back cutout detail.

House Of Sunny Hockney Dress, $, available at House of Sunny

Lirika Matoshi Strawberry Midi Dress

Model/activist Tess Holliday wore this tulle, tea-length dress featuring sweet strawberry embellishments from Kosovo designer Lirika Matoshi to the 2020 Grammy Awards. Many months and one pandemic later,  it’s taking over social media again, and even being remade on TikTok. Perfectly fitting into today’s popular cottagecore aesthetic, which could explain its recent spike, it also now has a coordinating strawberry face mask that we would wear with and without the dress. Lirika Matoshi Strawberry Midi Dress, $, available at Lirika MatoshiPhoto: Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic.

Lirika Matoshi Strawberry Midi Dress, $, available at Lirika Matoshi

Sleeper “Atlanta” Linen Dress

Another style that’s been popular before this summer, this nap dress, from beloved brand Sleeper, exploded over the lockdown thanks to, again, TikTok — and, this time, its obsession with nightgown-like dresses. Featuring a ruched bodice and oversized, poufy sleeves that can be worn on or off the shoulders, Atlanta is available in a variety of patterns. If we are to trust celebrities like Katy Perry, Chrissy Teigen, and Dakota Fanning, who’ve all worn it recently, gingham is the way to go this season.

Sleeper Atlanta Off-The-Shoulder Shirred Linen Midi Dress, $, available at Net-A-Porter

Sleeper Atlanta Linen Dress in Pink Vichy, $, available at Shopbop

Sleeper Atlanta Linen Dress in Micro Polka Dot, $, available at Shopbop

Sleeper Sleeper “Atlanta” Linen Dress in Roses, $, available at Sleeper

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

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These 5 Dresses Were Everywhere This Summer published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

[theravingcycle-blog]

Pynch soulmate au

Here's a re-upload of a (now edited) pynch soulmate au from my old blog, lynchganseyparrish. Please enjoy and send any other prompts you can think of! The forest on Ronan’s back had wilted. The leaves had curled in, just slightly, and the branches were drooping. Normally, Ronan wouldn’t have thought about it too much – it wasn’t any of his business how his supposed ‘soulmate’ was feeling, plus it wasn’t like he cared either way – only something new had appeared in the tattoo; flowers, of all different colours, peeking out cheerfully through the vines and twisting their way around the trunks of the trees. It bemused Ronan, as it seemed to mean his soulmate was feeling both happy and sad at the same time, and he couldn’t help but wonder what caused it. Ronan also had another reason to be a little more anxious than usual – his best friend was getting married. He was viciously pleased when Gansey asked him to be the best man, because he thought Gansey might have been pressured into asking someone a little more presentable to have by his side in front of the upper-class men and women who would be attending the wedding to see how Senator Gansey’s son had turned out. Of course, Blue wasn’t exactly a ‘presentable’ companion either. In fact, neither Ronan nor Blue were really fitting company for someone like Gansey III, but it wasn’t like Gansey himself had ever complied with tradition. Truly, he and Blue were a perfect match, just as their tattoos had foretold. Ronan loved imagining the looks on the Gansey’s faces when they finally met their son’s soulmate – a 5’ nothing wildfire of a person with a fashion sense to rival their son’s, though at least hers was edgy. Ronan took his spot near the Altar, waiting for the music to start. He nudged Blue, who was standing next to him in a tattered white dress that she had layered with other clothing, and brought his mouth to her ear. He actually had to bend down to reach, which was fucking hilarious. “Last chance to back out. I did have to physically force him not to wear boat shoes,” Ronan whispered, and Blue laughed while cringing. “I think it’s too late,” she muttered back. “Some congress people are here, and if we stop it now I won’t get the chance to yell at them.” “Atta girl,” Ronan said, and ruffled her hair. She scowled and was about to reply when someone put their hand on her shoulder. “Hey Blue, sorry I’m late; Noah almost nailed me with the glitter pot and I only just escaped.” Blue pulled whoever it was down –again, hilarious – for a hug, and then laughed. “He still got you, look, it’s all over your neck!” she sounded a little too gleeful; like she had a plan starting to form in her dwarf brain. Ronan almost felt sorry for the poor dude. Wait, that dude was hot. Okay, Ronan definitely felt sorry for him now. “Ronan,” Blue said. “This is Adam Parrish, my wench of honour.” Parrish rolled his eyes and stuck out a hand. “I prefer man of honour,” he laughed lightly. Wowzer, Ronan thought, and then: Did I just unironically think the word wowzer? Adam’s hand was warm and elegant when he shook it. Ronan really liked Adam’s hands. He cleared his throat. “Ronan Lynch.” Adam smiled softly, he seemed a little – shy? Abashed? Ronan couldn’t tell. “Nice to meet you, Ronan,” he said quietly as the music began to play and the doors started to open. Naturally, Blue had insisted that Gansey walked down the aisle, because the idea of a woman being ‘given away’ by a man, to another man, was incredibly sexist, and if she was going to get married at all, it would not be in a way that ‘further encourages the subtle dehumanisation and oppression of women’ as Blue had put it. Although, she had said it with a lot more feeling, and a lot less child-friendly words. Ronan zoned out again as Gansey reached the altar, but who could blame him? Weddings were boring as fuck. Actually, he was pretty sure Parrish was also zoned out – his eyes were slightly glazed over and he’d been staring at the same spot for the past two minutes. Not that Ronan had been, like, watching him or anything. He’d just…noticed, was all. He forced himself out of that dangerous train of thought as Noah brought the rings. It was quite the scandal when Blue asked Noah to do it – generally people like him weren’t allowed to participate in things such as weddings. Noah didn’t have a soul tattoo, something about which there were many theories – soulmate died before birth, etc. but no one really knew. The more bigoted, stupid and therefore most popular assumption was that those without a soul mark didn’t have souls, and so were not truly alive. Ronan really hated that theory – especially after he met Noah. The guy was the most vibrant person he knew. Suddenly, Gansey and Blue were kissing (did he really zone out that long?) and the wildfire on Gansey’s arm roared into an inferno, licking its way up his neck onto his cheek before it died down as they pulled apart. Ronan’s gaze shifted to the map of Henrietta on Blue’s ankle, and saw the lines representing streets begin to darken until the bolder lines formed a pattern – two crowns, side by side. Gansey really was a sap, Ronan thought, but he couldn’t help grinning a little. Finally, the ceremony was over, and Ronan was free to do as he pleased at the reception. Which was hide in a corner and glare at all the people swarming around Gansey and Blue, whilst simultaneously watching Parrish. Not in a creepy way! Adam was just… interesting. He wondered idly how he became friends with Blue. He didn’t seem to be good friends with anyone else here, in fact, he looked a little lonely, leaning against the wall over there. Maybe Ronan should- “Ronan!” said Blue, a little breathlessly, dragging an apologetic looking Gansey behind her. “There you are! We just escaped the mob,” Gansey winced and looked around in the vain hope that no one heard her “-and we’re all about to go sit, do you know where Adam is?” “Yeah, he’s right over there,” Ronan pointed, and Blue beamed wickedly. She tugged on Gansey’s sleeve, and he bent down – again, fucking hilarious – so she could whisper in his ear. He nodded, then set off. “Been keeping an eye on Parrish, huh?” she smirked. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Adam is smokin’.” “I-what-no!” Ronan spluttered a little (though he would never admit that). He regained his composure, shot her a Ronan Glare ™ and stalked off to find Gansey and their table. “YOU KNOW ABOUT THE TRADITION FOR THE MAID OF HONOUR AND BEST MAN,” Blue shouted at his retreating back. She sounded like she was wiggling her eyebrows at him. He flipped her the bird without turning, and heard the gasps of scandalised guests, along with Blue’s cackle as she went to get Adam. He flopped into the seat next to Gansey, and put his head on the table. “You married a fucking gremlin,” he said to Gansey, who didn’t look put out in the slightest. “She’s incredible,” he agreed reverently, as if Ronan hadn’t just been attempting to insult her. “Whatever,” Ronan said, smushing his face against the table. “Just don’t feed her after midnight.” **** Adam and Blue joined the table shortly after, along with Noah. Adam was really pretty. Not that it mattered, because it wasn’t like Ronan was going to act on it- he found out (subtly) that Adam and Blue had dated when they first met, so odds were he was probably straight. Also, he thought maybe Adam had some mixed feelings about today - he seemed a little wistful when no one else was looking, so maybe he still had feelings for Blue. Tragic, but Ronan would get over it. Probably. “Ronan,” Adam laughed, waving a hand in front of his face. “Rooooonan.” Ronan was coming to the conclusion that Adam was a little tipsy, though it wasn’t his place to judge considering he was much closer to drunk. It was just after the reception, Gansey and Blue having just driven home in the Pig (whether they’d make it home without it breaking down was a different story) and Ronan and Adam were… well, they were just standing there. Should they be heading off too? “Fuck,” said Adam, with a bit of humour in his voice still. “I don’t normally drink. It’s those stupid apple juice Champaign things. They trick me every time.” He groaned, mussing his hair and sending Ronan into cardiac arrest. “I can’t drive home.” “I can give you a lift,” Ronan said, probably a bit too eager to make a good impression on Adam. Adam looked at him like he was an idiot, and well, yeah, fair enough, but it wasn’t a completely stupid thing to offer! “You’re drunker than I am,” Adam said. “You’re not driving anywhere.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “Okay, mom,” he said mockingly, and Adam drew himself up to his full height – which was still just shorter than Ronan. (He should have found this funny but instead he just found it adorable and he was so screwed) “Hey,” Adam said, voice slightly slurred and – was that an accent slipping out? Oh god oh god oh god- “Rules are … important,” he said, poking Ronan in the chest. “I’m calling a cab,” he sighed, getting his phone out. Ronan ignored the twinge of disappointment in his chest as Adam finished speaking and hung up. He started to walk back inside, to see if he could get a lift with someone, when he felt Adam’s hand on his shoulder. “Ronan,” Adam said clearly, and there wasn’t a hint of alcohol in his voice. “I really would like a drive… maybe when we’re both completely sober?” Ronan couldn’t breathe. Is this what it sounds like? Is he… He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him. “I’d- I’d like that.” Adam grinned and Ronan’s breath had just come back, fuck you Parrish- “It’s a date,” he said, and reached for Ronan’s arm. Ronan complied with whatever he was doing mainly because his brain had forgotten how to function properly, because HIS HANDS ARE ON MY ARM, oh fuckfuckfuckfuck- “There,” said Adam, drawing back, and Ronan took his arm back to inspect it. There were numbers written on it (he hadn’t even realised Adam had a pen) and he distantly realised it must have been Adam’s number. He had Adam’s number. Adam’s number was on his arm. Wowzer. He was so out of it he barely registered a cab pulling up. Adam turned away and made to open the door when Ronan spun him round again. “I’ll- uh, see you soon,” Ronan said, and he must have been a hell of a lot drunker than he realised because he leant forwards and kissed Adam on the cheek. He spun quickly and started walking hurriedly back indoors, his thoughts a turmoil of holy fuck I just did that I just DID that! He walked so fast he almost missed Adam’s breathlessly pleased laugh of “…Bye.” Ronan almost ran into the door when he reached it. **** Three weeks later, they were dating. Ronan hadn’t expected Adam to be so much, so smart and witty and kind and fierce and so full of surprises. It had only been three weeks and he had fallen so hard, but then, Ronan never did do things slowly – he lived like he drove, reckless, wild and probably incredibly dangerously for bystanders. He was over at Adam’s place (which was tiny but he didn’t care because it was Adam) after their fourth (or fifth) official date, and he was decidedly too distracted by Adam to care which it was. Adam slid a hand under his shirt, lips still locked feverously, and traced the skin of Ronan’s back. Ronan jumped and pulled away, stifling his groan. “Sorry,” Adam said. “Too much?” “No,” Ronan breathed. “God, no.” Adam regarded him strangely. “Are you alright?” He asked. Ronan took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s just- that’s where my tattoo is,” he said, cautiously, analysing Adam’s face. “Oh,” said Adam. “Can I- Is it alright if I see?” he questioned, sounding a little nervous. Ronan held his breath. “Yeah,” he said, roughly. “Yeah, that’s- okay.” He turned around and slowly pulled his shirt off. He heard Adam gasp, and felt hands ghosting over his back, tracing the trunks of the trees. It had been getting much more impressive in recent times, the forest blooming like nothing he’d seen before, and he had even spotted small animals darting through the trees. Ronan bit his lip as he felt Adam’s blunt nail trace down the curve of his spine, and tried desperately not to do anything to scare him off. Suddenly he felt Adam’s hot breath on his ear. “Ronan,” he said urgently. “Ronan, it’s mine.” Ronan turned around instantly, so he was face to face with Adam once again. “What?” He said disbelievingly, and Adam bit his lip, smiling wider than Ronan had ever seen. “The mark,” he said. “That’s mine.” Ronan lurched forward and pulled him into a desperate, needy kiss. Breaking it off, he said “wait- where’s yours – can I?” and Adam nodded. His brain short circuited as Adam began to pull down his pants, and he was sure he blushed furiously as Adam shot him an amused glance. He’d only tugged it down a little past his hipbone, but Ronan couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed when he saw the small mark moving on Adams skin. It was really quite small, and he had to lean closer to get a better look at it (well, that was his excuse anyway). It was a raven, only a small one, perched delicately on Adam’s hip. It looked up at him as if to say well, what are you waiting for? Ronan felt recognition and certainty flood through him as the raven took off, soaring in circles around Adam’s body before settling back down on his hip. Ronan leaned forward more, pressed his lips to it, and smiled when he heard Adam’s gasp. He looked up and met Adam’s eyes, resting his head on Adam’s stomach. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, that’s – that’s mine.” Adam laughed breathlessly and pulled him up for a deep, heart-wrenching kiss. The raven cawed soundlessly in triumph and the forest whispered back. They both said the same thing. Finally.

[bigyack-com]

Year Ender 2019 Fashion: The year of throwback fashion trends, comeback styles, tulle, quilting, typography and more - fashion and trends

2019 has been an interesting year in several ‘comeback’ styles. From making a statement once again on the global runways, some styles were embraced on red carpets, film fashion, street fashion and even for those easy-to-fix everyday wardrobe. If you take a good look around, there’s fashion inspiration all around you. Each season, there’s a buzz about what the next trend is going to be and so we keep our eyes peeled to our mobile phone screens for what to watch out for, what to wear to the next outing, how to wear our hair, carry an accessory or just keep it simple? Here’s a tip, even the seemingly no makeup look/au naturale look requires work and the one who knows it can spot it with that much ease too. As the year comes to a close, it’s only right to call 2019 the year of throwbacks into who wore what and when a decade or two ago! We saw the return of miniature accessories, bike shorts, slip dresses, animal prints and more that gave us a return to the 1990s, while sleeves, tulle and sneakers had quite a moment this year. From style icons like Rihanna, Jennifer Lopez, Kim Kardashian West, Gigi Hadid to Anushka Sharma, Priyanka Chopra, Malaika Arora and many others closer to home, we’ve seen and learnt how to stay updated with looks that aren’t so new but can still evoke vivid memories, regardless of how long it’s really been.Here’s a round up of the top style trends of the year to add to your shopping bag because it’s always a good time to relive the last season or the one before that. What do you think? Read on.Tulle: Marc Jacobs closed New York Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2020 with a plethora of ruffled gowns, feather-work incorporated in the various styles that made an appearance at this season’s fashion week that also set the other global fashion weeks in motion. It was also the year of Giambattista Valli’s collaboration with H&M where the long and short of tulle debuted in the global markets and most of our wardrobes. Actor Deepika Padukone rocked a lime green tulle dress on the Cannes Film Festival red carpet this year with a head wrap in shell pink. The year also saw a return of the classic Prarie dress mostly paired with exaggerated ruffles and puff sleeves.

Padded headbands: Velvet, bejewelled or embellished — big, puffy and padded headbands were seen making a comeback this year, straight out of a ‘90s lookbook. Italian fashion designer Miuccia Prada incorporated thick headbands into Prada’s Spring/Summer 2019 runway show, leading to the return of this vintage favourite. Gossip Girl’s Blair Waldorf too was often spotted wearing headbands during the course of the show. Padded headbands seemed to have replaced top knots as a preferred summer trend of 2019 and were embraced by fashionistas and influencers worldwide. Kate Middleton was an early adopter of this trend and interestingly, Princess Diana too had sported this trend in the early ‘90s. Designers this year went a step further by increasing the wearability of these headbands by giving them a fashionable facelift such as Victoria Percival’s pearl-studded headband, worn by Hanne.  Tiny sunglasses: Actors Sonam Kapoor Ahuja and Alia Bhatt were both seen wearing teeny-tiny ‘Matrix’ sunglasses at separate events but did you wonder if you’ve seen them before somewhere? These sunnies have been having quite a moment ever since Kendall Jenner, Gigi Hadid and Bella Hadid sported them. There was also a conversation about how they’re fashionable but not a great addition because they do nothing to protect the eyes, but if I had to, I would wear these cutesy accessory on a cloudy day too. Even Kareena Kapoor Khan has been spotted wearing micro-sunnies.

Baguette: Le Mini Chiquito, a ‘fingerbag’ as it was termed by various fashion insiders, made its debut at the Paris Fashion Week earlier this year. It was a shrunken version of the miniature and already cult $500 (440-euro) ‘Le Chiquito’ bag which celebrities like Rihanna and Kim Kardashian were seen clutching between their thumb and forefingers because of its compact size at a mere 5.2 centimetres (two inches) long. While this trend never made it beyond the fashion week, the baguette surely made a comeback from (no guesses) the late nineties lookbook that global celebrities including Priyanka Chopra, Sonam Kapoor, Dua Lipa strutted around carrying this ‘palm’ candy, so to speak. An early 2000s episode of Sex and the City is an easy reminder of this trend when Carrie Bradshaw gets mugged on the streets of New York but doesn’t fear policing the outlaw about his major fashion faux pas of calling her ‘baguette’ a handbag!  Murse: Compact yet voguish bags for men became an interesting trend this year ranging from cross-body, fanny packs, top handle totes, and compact clutches that pretty much managed to steal the limelight at various men’s fashion shows this year. The brand, Hermes, had men walking with the oversized version of their signature Birkin bags. While Kim Jones, Dior’s men designer gave a touch of feminine flair to the tailored suits paired with newsprint styled bags, cross-body bags, and box-like clutches. Additionally, it was Louis Vuitton’s fresh experiments with models carrying flower-adorned handbags. Other notable designers namely Celine and Jacquemus had designs with a beachy finesse to the bags including straw shoulder bags and net-style sling bags. What’s even more interesting is that these bags didn’t just become runway favourites, celebrities including singer Nick Jonas took the lead and proved how the ‘murse’ could be of real use! Oversized bags: Bottega Veneta’s Large Tote and Maison Margiela’s Glam Slam proved how the carry-your-whole-life-with-you-totes were the fashion paradox most fashionistas and fashion influencers embraced after the surge of the baguettes and their variants earlier in the year. The oversized bags refreshing practicality and unrestrained space appealed to most women who have always felt the need for bigger bags to hold multiple objects such as a book, makeup bag, their laptop, a large wallet, planner, umbrella etc.Fluorescent colours: The neon trend might have been introduced atleast half a decade ago and caught on almost instantly, but 2019 was the year when it was seen either complementing an outfit as an accessory or an entire outfit in a shade of neon, be it green, pink or orange. Bollywood stars namely Deepika Padukone, Ranveer Singh, Alia Bhatt, Sara Ali Khan, Ayushmann Khurrana and international stars such as Bella Hadid and Kendall Jenner were spotted donning the highlighter hue amongst other names.Animal prints: Loud leopard prints are a bold choice and a favourite amongst several fashionistas. From appearing on a variety of garments including jumpsuits, dresses, pants, coats, animal prints also made it to a collection by Kenzo earlier this year, sported by Game of Thrones star, Maisie Williams. Dolce & Gabbana too had an entire collection including custom-made sneakers dedicated to these prints. In Bollywood, animal prints have been a favourite on Shilpa Shetty Kundra who is seen sporting animal prints in a wide variety in several red carpet outings as she did back in the early ‘90s when she popularised this trend. These have also been seen on popular names such as Kareena Kapoor Khan, Sonam Kapoor Ahuja and more recently, Sara Ali Khan.

Sneakers: Design houses namely Coach and Balenciaga to Gucci, Prada and Louis Vuitton created sculptural, embellished, loud and uncomfortable sneakers that opened to mixed reviews by the consumers globally. Sneakers were sported under gowns and dresses on the red carpet as well. Tennis star Serena Williams wore a comfortable pair under her bright yellow gown at the Met Gala 2019. Malaika Arora chose embellished sneakers to wear under a bodycon dress for a Christmas party. And the list could only be growing with comfort and fashion meeting at a near midpoint, atleast wherever is possible.Gucci described its off-white sneakers as “vintage” and “old school”, with an “allover distressed effect,” on their official website, gucci.com. These shoes are priced at $790 to $890 approximately and come with care instructions to keep the distressed sneakers, dubbed as dirty sneakers by social media, intact the way they’re supposed to be. But a good Samaritan on Instagram who posts under the handle @vetiver_ch took it upon himself to clean these dirty sneakers are present them to the world once again. But that’s not all, even Birkenstocks and Uggs made a comeback in 2019.

Square toe shoes/sandals: If you passionately and diligently follow fashion trends on social media, especially on Instagram, it’s very likely that you’ve fashion influencers talking about and wearing ultra-structured square-toe shoes. Italian high fashion brand Bottega Veneta’s square-toe mules ruled all summer, and women just couldn’t get enough of this odd-looking footwear that could be the next footwear trend that’s here to stay. If you do get around to getting your own pair, wear them with baggy denim, sleek trousers or a tailored suit for a bold yet chic look.Puffer jackets: Who doesn’t love staying in bed with a warm quilt in peak winters? Although it’s a tricky question, usually the answer would be, nearly everyone! One of the biggest and oft recurrent trend is quilting in an array of colours, even striking neons. You can find these on nearly everything from (puffer) jackets to shoes to bags and more. Fashion influencers can be seen rocking quilted leather jackets, mules, pumps, and clothing all over Instagram too. Few designers even introduced comforter-like collars for their jacket collections as winter started to set in.Typography: An interesting trend that was seen on gowns on runways to sarees and dresses in Bollywood fashion, typography was used on clothing for voicing an opinion, to speak the mouth or just to make a quiet statement. Viktor&Rolf, the avant-garde luxury fashion house founded in 1993 presented their Spring/Summer 2019 haute couture collection in Paris with a dramatic representation of one’s state of mind in a big way. Through layers of tulle and ruffles, their wearable art was a paradise for introverts and fashion lovers alike. Speaking of wearable art, several Instagram influencers have been at it through slogan tee-shirts, jackets, shoes and more that have found a niche fan following and it looks like this trend is going to stay. Indian designers namely Masaba Gupta, Rhea Kapoor and Anamika Khanna too brought this trend to their dresses and sarees and the same has been sported by the likes of Sonam Kapoor Ahuja, Kareena Kapoor Khan and others. Slip dress: As we’ve already established early on in this piece, a lot of ’90s fashion made a comeback this year, and has been embraced in its classic form or a renewed version by fashion lovers all over the globe. Just like a few other popular trends, the slip dress too found popularity in all Hollywood celebrity wardrobes courtesy designers like Calvin Klein and Narciso Rodriguez. Sisters Kendall and Kylie Jenner wore the slip dress more recently and gave it a bit of a spin with boots and a tee inside too. In Bollywood, Kareena Kapoor Khan, Priyanka Chopra Jonas and Mira Rajput Kapoor have worn the slip dress for an outing and have channelled their diva-esque selves for the paparazzi each time. Way back in 1998, Sex and the City’s theme song has Carrie Bradshaw sporting a naked dress that got everyone talking about what she was (not) wearing, on the show of course. A similar dress was also seen on Kendall Jenner’s recent Miami trip that found resemblance to this two-decade old dress trend.Boiler Suits: Once again a ‘90s trend, Boiler suits too made a comeback in 2019. Inspired by military flight suits, the boiler suit trend is hands-down one of the most difficult unfashionable trends to look fashionable in. Meant to be worn oversized, these trendy jumpsuits look ultra-cool when paired with sneakers, gladiator sandals or mules.Puff sleeves, mutton leg sleeves, bishop sleeves and others: From NYFW, LFW to PFW, sleeves had quite a moment all of this year on various runways, across seasons. Seen in a puffed variety to mutton leg sleeves and a more common, bishop sleeves, celebrities were seen sporting them all this year. Whether you want to channel the vintage Elizabethan age of over-the-top opulence or get-with-the-times with free-spirited bohemian vibes, there is a sleeve for every kind of mood and whim you may fancy. Sleeves add to the drama of an outfit or just speak for themselves on an otherwise plain outfit. Take Anushka Sharma’s silver white dress for example that she wore for an event, the dramatic sleeves did all the talking for her elegant outfit, giving a much-needed edge for an overall sophisticated avatar.

The arrival of some new trends, to the comeback of several favourites, 2019 showed us how the world of fashion may have done away with the rule book to give way to a renewed one. While we saw plenty style trends in detail, there are still a few others that definitely deserve a mention like tactical belts, houndstooth patterns, chain jewellery, biker shorts, nautical patterns, feathers and many more. Here’s looking forward to a new year in fashion, coming soon.Follow more stories on Facebook and Twitter Read the full article

[mirelaloveworld]

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein, with the hair drawn from her forehead in small curls, and a plait hanging from the top of the head over one ear, the crown being worn rather far back and kept in place by a jewelled caul.

To Spain historians have granted the laurel of the ruff, which became first popular in England in the reign of Henry VIII. ; and Anne Boleyn introduced lappets made of velvet and adorned with precious stones, either pointed at the hem or square and broad.

Many are the things to do in Bulgaria. My country is not yet very well discovered and I am sure you would love it. It’s nature, history and great emotions.

During those days the length of the gown denoted the rank of the wearer, countesses and baronesses and ladies of lower degree stamping their estate upon the dimensions of their train. Embroidery decorated the gowns and petticoats alike, many of the dresses being cut open in front to display a satin kirtle and an apron embroidered in gold and many colours. The bodice of the dress sometimes differed in colour from the skirt, and the sleeves would match the skirt ; and there was much variety in head-dress, the velvet cap tasselled and set with jewels above a floating veil being a popular style. But cauls, coifs, and French hoods, and the high bands in front, were in evidence, together with a white three-cornered cap, the original no doubt of the Marie Stuart cap of succeeding years.

The men were as prodigal as the women

The men were as prodigal as the women, and spared no expense or time or thought in their pursuit of the sumptuous and the elegant ; their shoes and garters and hats glittered with gems, and they wore rings and chains in profusion, raising the trades of tailors and goldsmiths and cloth- makers to supreme importance. Jack of Newbury, a famous cloth merchant of the time of Henry VIII., is described as appearing before that monarch in a plain russet coat and a pair of white kersey slops, the stockings of the same piece being sewn to his slops. Slops was a term developed from “ slip,” and signified any garment easily adjusted, and an example of its use occurs in Much Ado About Nothing, a phrase running “ as, a German from the waist downward, all slops ” ; hence may the suspicious glean that the Teuton habit of costume was not mainly trim.

Men yielded to the general craze for an expanded hip, wearing great breeches stuffed with hair or bran or wool, and exhibiting no less than feminine enthusiasm in the width of their ruffles. Their hose, of different detail, was either of cloth or silk, and blazed with colour, being ornamented with gold or threads of Venetian silver, though the King himself preferred cloth hose, which also had the honour of decorating Queen Elizabeth, until she chanced to meet with the silk stocking, to which she thereafter clung with tenacity.

[nightsofia]

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein, with the hair drawn from her forehead in small curls, and a plait hanging from the top of the head over one ear, the crown being worn rather far back and kept in place by a jewelled caul.

To Spain historians have granted the laurel of the ruff, which became first popular in England in the reign of Henry VIII. ; and Anne Boleyn introduced lappets made of velvet and adorned with precious stones, either pointed at the hem or square and broad.

Many are the things to do in Bulgaria. My country is not yet very well discovered and I am sure you would love it. It’s nature, history and great emotions.

During those days the length of the gown denoted the rank of the wearer, countesses and baronesses and ladies of lower degree stamping their estate upon the dimensions of their train. Embroidery decorated the gowns and petticoats alike, many of the dresses being cut open in front to display a satin kirtle and an apron embroidered in gold and many colours. The bodice of the dress sometimes differed in colour from the skirt, and the sleeves would match the skirt ; and there was much variety in head-dress, the velvet cap tasselled and set with jewels above a floating veil being a popular style. But cauls, coifs, and French hoods, and the high bands in front, were in evidence, together with a white three-cornered cap, the original no doubt of the Marie Stuart cap of succeeding years.

The men were as prodigal as the women

The men were as prodigal as the women, and spared no expense or time or thought in their pursuit of the sumptuous and the elegant ; their shoes and garters and hats glittered with gems, and they wore rings and chains in profusion, raising the trades of tailors and goldsmiths and cloth- makers to supreme importance. Jack of Newbury, a famous cloth merchant of the time of Henry VIII., is described as appearing before that monarch in a plain russet coat and a pair of white kersey slops, the stockings of the same piece being sewn to his slops. Slops was a term developed from “ slip,” and signified any garment easily adjusted, and an example of its use occurs in Much Ado About Nothing, a phrase running “ as, a German from the waist downward, all slops ” ; hence may the suspicious glean that the Teuton habit of costume was not mainly trim.

Men yielded to the general craze for an expanded hip, wearing great breeches stuffed with hair or bran or wool, and exhibiting no less than feminine enthusiasm in the width of their ruffles. Their hose, of different detail, was either of cloth or silk, and blazed with colour, being ornamented with gold or threads of Venetian silver, though the King himself preferred cloth hose, which also had the honour of decorating Queen Elizabeth, until she chanced to meet with the silk stocking, to which she thereafter clung with tenacity.

[vasilkalazarova]

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein, with the hair drawn from her forehead in small curls, and a plait hanging from the top of the head over one ear, the crown being worn rather far back and kept in place by a jewelled caul.

To Spain historians have granted the laurel of the ruff, which became first popular in England in the reign of Henry VIII. ; and Anne Boleyn introduced lappets made of velvet and adorned with precious stones, either pointed at the hem or square and broad.

Many are the things to do in Bulgaria. My country is not yet very well discovered and I am sure you would love it. It’s nature, history and great emotions.

During those days the length of the gown denoted the rank of the wearer, countesses and baronesses and ladies of lower degree stamping their estate upon the dimensions of their train. Embroidery decorated the gowns and petticoats alike, many of the dresses being cut open in front to display a satin kirtle and an apron embroidered in gold and many colours. The bodice of the dress sometimes differed in colour from the skirt, and the sleeves would match the skirt ; and there was much variety in head-dress, the velvet cap tasselled and set with jewels above a floating veil being a popular style. But cauls, coifs, and French hoods, and the high bands in front, were in evidence, together with a white three-cornered cap, the original no doubt of the Marie Stuart cap of succeeding years.

The men were as prodigal as the women

The men were as prodigal as the women, and spared no expense or time or thought in their pursuit of the sumptuous and the elegant ; their shoes and garters and hats glittered with gems, and they wore rings and chains in profusion, raising the trades of tailors and goldsmiths and cloth- makers to supreme importance. Jack of Newbury, a famous cloth merchant of the time of Henry VIII., is described as appearing before that monarch in a plain russet coat and a pair of white kersey slops, the stockings of the same piece being sewn to his slops. Slops was a term developed from “ slip,” and signified any garment easily adjusted, and an example of its use occurs in Much Ado About Nothing, a phrase running “ as, a German from the waist downward, all slops ” ; hence may the suspicious glean that the Teuton habit of costume was not mainly trim.

Men yielded to the general craze for an expanded hip, wearing great breeches stuffed with hair or bran or wool, and exhibiting no less than feminine enthusiasm in the width of their ruffles. Their hose, of different detail, was either of cloth or silk, and blazed with colour, being ornamented with gold or threads of Venetian silver, though the King himself preferred cloth hose, which also had the honour of decorating Queen Elizabeth, until she chanced to meet with the silk stocking, to which she thereafter clung with tenacity.

[paradisesc]

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein

There is an attractive picture of her by Holbein, with the hair drawn from her forehead in small curls, and a plait hanging from the top of the head over one ear, the crown being worn rather far back and kept in place by a jewelled caul.

To Spain historians have granted the laurel of the ruff, which became first popular in England in the reign of Henry VIII. ; and Anne Boleyn introduced lappets made of velvet and adorned with precious stones, either pointed at the hem or square and broad.

Many are the things to do in Bulgaria. My country is not yet very well discovered and I am sure you would love it. It’s nature, history and great emotions.

During those days the length of the gown denoted the rank of the wearer, countesses and baronesses and ladies of lower degree stamping their estate upon the dimensions of their train. Embroidery decorated the gowns and petticoats alike, many of the dresses being cut open in front to display a satin kirtle and an apron embroidered in gold and many colours. The bodice of the dress sometimes differed in colour from the skirt, and the sleeves would match the skirt ; and there was much variety in head-dress, the velvet cap tasselled and set with jewels above a floating veil being a popular style. But cauls, coifs, and French hoods, and the high bands in front, were in evidence, together with a white three-cornered cap, the original no doubt of the Marie Stuart cap of succeeding years.

The men were as prodigal as the women

The men were as prodigal as the women, and spared no expense or time or thought in their pursuit of the sumptuous and the elegant ; their shoes and garters and hats glittered with gems, and they wore rings and chains in profusion, raising the trades of tailors and goldsmiths and cloth- makers to supreme importance. Jack of Newbury, a famous cloth merchant of the time of Henry VIII., is described as appearing before that monarch in a plain russet coat and a pair of white kersey slops, the stockings of the same piece being sewn to his slops. Slops was a term developed from “ slip,” and signified any garment easily adjusted, and an example of its use occurs in Much Ado About Nothing, a phrase running “ as, a German from the waist downward, all slops ” ; hence may the suspicious glean that the Teuton habit of costume was not mainly trim.

Men yielded to the general craze for an expanded hip, wearing great breeches stuffed with hair or bran or wool, and exhibiting no less than feminine enthusiasm in the width of their ruffles. Their hose, of different detail, was either of cloth or silk, and blazed with colour, being ornamented with gold or threads of Venetian silver, though the King himself preferred cloth hose, which also had the honour of decorating Queen Elizabeth, until she chanced to meet with the silk stocking, to which she thereafter clung with tenacity.