#sneaker for Business Casual Outfit

[krishnamali786-blog]

Can I Wear Sneakers for Business Casual Women? 21 Sneakers & Business Casual Women Outfit Sets

Can I Wear Sneakers for Business Casual Women? 21 Sneakers & Business Casual Women Outfit Sets #businesscasualoutfit #workwear #sneakeroutfit #officedress

When I first entered the corporate world, I was unsure about the business casual dress code—especially when it came to shoes. Like most women, I wanted to look polished and professional, but the thought of wearing uncomfortable heels all day didn’t exactly appeal to me. So, the question popped up in my mind: Can I wear sneakers for business casual? Well, after plenty of trial and error,…

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Their Princess

Mob bosses!Wandanat x Carol, Valkyrie, and Kate x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dom/sub dynamics, R refers to Wanda and Natasha as Mommy and Daddy, Overstimulation, polyamory, slight exhibitionism, training/conditioning(implied), objectification, jealousy/envy, orgasm control, aftercare

Authors notes: Fuck I've never written anything like this before and I struggled a bit with it. Thank you @scarlethexelove for helping me figure out what I'd be doing with everyone and how to end it.

You loved being their princess. 

Wanda and Natasha, the powerful mob bosses who run the city with elegance and terror, have a soft spot for you. They made it clear that you're their favorite plaything, cherished and protected. Their desire for you is known to all in their inner circle, and when they’re off handling serious business, they make sure you’re well taken care of—especially during meetings that might take longer than expected.

Today was no different. The luxurious house, well practically a mansion, where they housed you was immaculate, all sleek marble, soft rugs, and leather furniture, everything pristine as a reflection of their control over the world outside. 

You had the place to yourself for the most part, but not entirely. Wanda and Natasha left you in the care of three members of their trusted circle: Carol, Val, and Kate.

While you had been left in their hands for protection, it quickly became apparent they had other things in mind.

Carol leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, her short blonde hair mussed up in that effortless way, the corner of her mouth curled in amusement as she watched you. 

Val lounged casually in a nearby chair, swirling a glass of bourbon, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. Kate, meanwhile, sat beside you on the couch, her posture deceptively relaxed. But you could feel the tension brewing between them.

“So,” Carol said, breaking the silence, “how do you feel about killing time with us until our two bosses come back?” Her eyes raked over you slowly taking in the little outfit Wanda had decided today. A short plaid skirt, a tight low cut top, and a pair of cute slip-on sneakers.

You shifted under their gazes, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. There was no mistaking their intent. They had been instructed to watch over you, but they clearly had other plans.

Val set her glass down and leaned forward, her smirk widening. “I’d say we’re more than capable of keeping you occupied,” she purred, her voice low and teasing.

Kate’s hand moved to your thigh, her fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin. Your legs instinctively opened, making you bite the inside of your lip. “What do you think?” she asked, her voice playful. “They won’t be back for a while.”

You swallowed, glancing nervously between the three of them. You knew Wanda and Natasha were possessive. You were their favorite, after all. But a part of you couldn’t deny the excitement rushing through your veins.

Val noticed your hesitation and chuckled. “Don’t worry, darling. We won’t tell if you don’t.”

Carol’s smirk deepened as she pushed off the doorframe, moving to join you on the couch, sitting on your other side. “They’ll understand,” she murmured, her fingers brushing your cheek, tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “You’re theirs, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while they’re gone.”

Kate, already leaning close, pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, her lips warm against your skin. “We’ll take good care of you,” she whispered.

The combination of their closeness and the promises in their eyes made your pulse quicken. Carol’s grip on your chin tightened slightly as her gaze darkened, while Val’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched, clearly enjoying your predicament. Kate’s fingers slid higher up your thigh, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through you.

“I wonder who’s going to leave the most memorable impression,” Val mused with a sly smile, standing up and circling the couch, her eyes never leaving you. “Or maybe it’ll be a little of all of us.”

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you as Carol leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. “We’re going to have so much fun, sweetheart.”

Kate's hand finally found its spot over your panties, rubbing tight circles against you and pulling a moan out of your lips. Your head lulled back and went to the side as Carol’s lips moved up your neck. Val’s hands found your chest. Pinching your nipples making more moans spill out your lips.

Just as the tension between all of you reached its peak, the sound of the penthouse door unlocking echoed through the room. All eyes snapped toward the entrance, where Wanda and Natasha stepped inside, looking as imposing as ever.

Wanda’s sea-glass eyes swept over the scene, taking in the way you were surrounded by their trusted companions. Natasha’s deep green gaze narrowed slightly as her lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Seems like we’re interrupting,” Natasha remarked, her voice smooth but dangerous.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips. “We leave for one meeting, and you all start without us?”

The three women quickly backed off, looking both amused and a little apprehensive under the gazes of the mob bosses.

Wanda approached you first, cupping your cheek with a possessive touch. “Did they behave themselves?” she asked softly, but the glint in her eyes warned that she already knew the answer.

Natasha came to stand behind you, her hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Don’t worry, printsessa. You’re still ours,” she whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Natasha looks at the three of them before moving over to the loveseat. Letting her muscular arm rest along the back, you felt yourself throb seeing her veins. 

“Go on you three. Show us what you can do.” Tasha speaks as she motions Wanda to come sit with her. 

Carol was the first to move, pulling out her strap as she lifted you. She sat herself down and then you on her lap, letting you slowly sink down onto her cock.

She had you facing outward. Seeing Wanda and Natasha watch you like their favorite movie while Kate came back over. Moving between your legs and letting her lips wrap around your clit; sucking, making you moan out and your head lull back before Val is grabbing your face and guiding you to her strap. 

You let your lips wrap around the faux cock just as you do with Wanda and Tasha. Moans and whimpers come out of you.

Build up after build up happens, but you know there won't be a release not from these three. You're fuzzy and your vision is a little blurry as you look at Mommy. 

Wanda is giving you a faux pout, "Go on detka, say it." And you whine out  

"I need Mommy and Daddy to cum!" You cry out. You're overstimulated by all the build up. You knew they'd been training you, but you never thought it would actually work. 

"Stop." Natasha demands of the others. They all immediately stop what they are doing. 

"Let us show you three how it's really done." Wanda walks to you.  

You're already all hazy and needy, so you're reaching out for Wanda, and she picks you up right out of Carol’s lap. You can feel her strap and Nat comes up behind you, whispering in your ear, "You need Mommy and Daddy? How about you ride Mommy while Daddy fucks you in the ass?"

All you can do is let out a high-pitched whine and nuzzle into Wanda. 

"Those aren't words princess." Tasha whispers in your ear.

"Please let me ride Mommy while Daddy fucks my ass..." You whine out and the two mob bosses smirk at each other. 

"Good girl." Wanda kisses your head. Taking the both of you to the couch. She positions herself, laying down with you hovering over her strap. Nat climbs up behind you. 

Nat pushes inside of you first and you practically cum just from that. Then Wanda is pulling you down onto her. You're already trembling from them filling you up.

It's all overwhelming but not enough at the same time. You just desperately need them. 

"Pl-please... Mommy, Daddy, need you." You whine out. 

"Oh our poor girl just needs to be used. Doesn't she?" Wanda asks and you nod frantically. 

"Yes Mommy please need you both to use me." And the two of them don't hesitate on their thrusts. Fucking you brainless. You end up losing track of how many times you've cum before both of them empty into you. 

You collapse onto Wanda as Nat pulls out to go clean up and grab something for you two. You blink a few times and see the other three girls, naked and looking just as blissed out as you. You'd completely forgotten they were there watching.

Wanda runs her fingers up and down your spine. To sooth you as you nuzzle into her chest. She kisses your head. "Such a good girl for Mommy and Daddy. Such a good toy." She mumbles against your head. 

It sends a shiver through you. She'd do it every time to ground you back down. You smile and close your eyes. Wanda looked over at the other three girls. "See that's how you make her cum. Though it was a losing game you were playing. We trained her months ago only to cum for us, by us." 

The girls all let out a groan as they lay in a mess of tangled limbs. You let out a little whine, nuzzling and hiding your face against Wanda. She chuckles and shushes you.  

Natasha walks back in with bottles of water and some snacks. 

"Come on all of you, water, snacks, time for some aftercare." Luckily for everyone the couch was enormous and though you wanted to stay with Wanda you lean up and whisper in her ear, 

"Can I snuggle with Kate?" Wanda furrows her brow a moment, but then she notices the slightly hurt expression on Kate's face as Val and Carol get comfy together. 

"Go on princess. I've got Tasha." You smile and kiss her before grabbing a blanket and Kate's hand. She's taken by surprise as you pull the two of you over to the chaise and get comfy. 

Everyone gets comfy as light flickers from the fireplace and Wanda puts on one of her favorite sitcoms. 

You nuzzle into Kate as you slowly drift in and out of sleep. The room is peaceful, with everyone comfortable and snuggled up. 

Everyone slowly drifted off to sleep. The last thing on your mind being, it was worth catching Wanda's eyes at the diner that day.

[johnbrand]

Call to Action

William was getting antsy in the airport, crossing his legs and kicking his feet anxiously as he awaited his flight. It had been nearly two months since he had last seen his long-distance boyfriend and the excitement was riling him up. William had been preparing for this trip for weeks now. Everything was packed, the shuttle from the airport coordinated. As soon as he landed he would quickly change from his plane pajamas to a fancier outfit to surprise his true love.

All of this made William bouncy with a child-like giddiness. The two had been lovers since their first year of college, but William’s boyfriend had made it clear early on that senior year he planned to study abroad. Even though this separation was planned and temporary, the young, romantic William had swooned since the day he left. He practically looked the part too, his average, lean build and mousy brown hair perfectly accompanying the lovelorn persona.

Doing his best to distract himself, William grabbed for his phone, surprised to find an unknown number trying to reach him. With nothing better to do, he decided to accept the call. William did not notice all the other men in the airport simultaneously reaching for their phones and answering the same number through their devices.

“Men!” a rugged, masculine voice exclaimed from the other end. “It is our time to rise up to save our country!”

William was not prepared for this sudden call to action, but curious, he remained on the line. He did not realize his decision was already made for him.

“Men should be with women! Men need to become fathers again!”

William’s eyes glazed over at the strong words as the masculine voice continued to spout even more offensive remarks. It was jarring, aggravating to a point that…aggravating to a…aggravating to his dick.

William let the man’s uproar of commands project on, unaware of the small boner that rose from his soft pants as insults were delivered at his masculinity. Each of the man’s statements were absorbed willingly into William’s innermost self, adjusting the poor boy to the expectations of a complete stranger. William’s height rose dramatically, a soft breeze tickling against his shins as his pants rode higher up. His thighs and calves began to fill the empty space as the pants became a starchy material, khakis functional either indoors or outdoors. His shoes too, once cheap sandals, grew larger into massive athletic sneakers that (thanks to his manly privilege) passed as "business casual."

“Straighten out those backs and puff those chests!” the voice urged, and William obliged. His muscles tightened beneath the worn-out tee, which was quickly thickening into a sporty-yet-still-professional polo echoing a more standardized hue. William’s chest, now supported by hard-earned bulk, began to cover itself with little hairs while his entire being broadened and squared. The changes crawled out from underneath the new shirt down his arms, leaving William with tanned, lightly dusted appendages and thick mitts begging for a game of catch on the front lawn. A single finger was graced with a simple silver band.

William’s manhood continually throbbed with the man’s words, pulsing larger with every new mandate ordered upon him. “Your role is to reproduce a spitting-image, not a spitting savage!” William felt himself agree, tightening the typical leather belt that had secured itself around his stronger base. His evolving cock protested the loss of freedom, now a machine for fertilization built for a purpose other than sheer pleasure. “You are a man, so act like one!”

“I am a man!” William repeated, his vocal chords deepening with maturity and testosterone. His jaw squared out with manly aftershave, years brutishly piling onto his body to make him better prepared for fatherhood. William's hair flattened out into a neatly combed shape, a long-practiced art form that matched his weathered, experienced eyes.

“Families and jobs are the priority.” the man signed off. “Father our children, father our country!”

Bill placed the phone down, noticing his flight had just arrived. The 30-something-father watched as the passengers got off, noticing all the proud men with their families. The thought aroused his massive paternal schlong, quickly forcing him to spread his legs to make some room. Bill had just finished a week-long corporate retreat, talking business, the home life, and politics with the other like-minded men out on the greens. Now though, he was excited to get home to the wife and kids. So excited in fact that he had to hear his voice one last time.

“Hey hun, boarding the plane now. Have dinner ready by the time I get home." Bill's command held the dominance and authority of natural masculinity. "Tell the kiddos I'll see them soon, love ya.”

[applepieshy]

I had an idea to redesign vox because I didn't love that a character obsessed with modernization would wear a top hat and bowtie. then after a brief stint into madness where I read my partner's historic costuming textbook I drew.... all this.

(side note: the idea of vox being a trans man who transitioned AFTER death was super compelling and absolutely inspired by @prince-liest so while this is not direct fanart of their series I wanted to give a shoutout anyway!!!)

okay some TRULY unhinged rambling about historic costume below the cut YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1950s: for this design I very much did not want to go to the typical a-line housewife look, because I feel that is unfitting for vox's character. instead I went for a more business look, but there is still a level of femininity that he would have been expected to perform. i wanted to express his discomfort with that through the pose and expression, though at the time he wouldn't necessarily have a framework for why he hated it

1960s: this one was very fun. i loved the idea of vox beginning to eschew some of the expected feminine presentation, and he no longer wears makeup, jewelry, or hose (though its hard to tell in black & white); however, he's kind of at war with himself in this time period. he's obsessed with seeming perfect and having a respectable image, so he would not go in for the counter-culture movements that were so big in the 60s. he's still kind of riding those coattails though, pushing those boundaries while still not acknowledging his queerness.

1970s: to me, it was very important that the gender hit as he entered the world in color. in my mind the gender euphoria is physically manifested in a wizard of oz situation - he can become who he always has been. anyway, gender aside, I think it was very important to me personally that he wore an ascot. it was for my mental health.

1980s: I wanted the 1980s to be the period where he began to gain some power and notoriety because of the de-regulation of television during this period to allow more ads, mirroring real-world history. I think if the 70s were when vox gained some real confidence, the 80s are when he got an Ego (tm). "business casual" also began to become more acceptable in this time period, and the t-shirt/suit jacket combo was very important for me to include, as to me it epitomizes the commercialism and machismo of the 80s.

1990s: this was actually the decade I was the most nervous to design, and yet I think it turned out the best? the 90s are known for grunge, which I think is NOT vox's style at all. I decided instead to lean hard into the yuppie look, which I know is more associated with the 80s but was definitely still a thing in the 90s. I also allowed a little hip-hop influence in the form of a gold chain from val, which is not something I think vox would ever pick on his own.

2000s: if the 90s were the decade I was worried about and turned out great, the 2000s are the decade I thought I had down SO GOOD and then totally floundered in execution. I still love the bubble-mac inspired head, and I tried to make his clothes as "round" as possible. I also like that this is the time where his saturation got cranked. however, I don't know if I'm in love with the vest and super bright sneakers, because again, looking back on it, he kind of looks like he works at a movie theater or best buy or some shit lol,,,

2010s: I think it's telling that this is by far the closest to his canon design (2014 tumblr lookin ass). I really wanted to pull from that hipster tech bro era, but unfortunately that aesthetic has a veneration for "retro" which again, is not fitting for vox. I still think he would wear the bowtie during this time because, well... he sure does in the show!

2020s: this was fun because I had an excuse to pull from haute couture design rather than street fashion because of the introduction of velvette into his life. I truly do not think velvette would let vox and val walk around in the outfits that they do because it would be an actual embarrassment LMAO. for this, I wanted his decorative "robes" to be evocative of the time he depicted himself as a priest AND of a cape/robe of an emperor. he does think of himself as that bitch, after all.

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 15

word count: 7.1k

Aspen hurried home after her last class, her bag slung over one shoulder as she practically sprinted up the stairs to her apartment. Her heart raced, not just from the exertion but from the bubbling anticipation that had been simmering all day. Once inside, she dropped her things by the door and immediately headed to her room, her mind spinning with thoughts of the evening ahead. This wasn't just any evening—it was their first real date.

She turned to her small mirror, her hands resting on the edge of the desk as she studied her reflection. Her cheeks were already pink from excitement, and she let out a soft sigh, smoothing a stray strand of hair back. Focus, Aspen, she told herself. She grabbed her claw clip and released her hair, shaking it out before heading to the bathroom. A quick shower was her first order of business, and as the warm water cascaded over her, she let her thoughts wander to Harry. She couldn't help but smile as she imagined his crooked grin, the way his green eyes seemed to pierce right through her.

Wrapped in a towel, Aspen padded back to her room and opened her closet. She had already decided on her outfit—a pair of denim overalls paired with a fitted black long-sleeve—but she pulled it out and laid it on the bed with care. She took her time with her makeup, dabbing a bit of concealer under her eyes and blending it carefully. She opted for soft, natural tones—a hint of blush, some mascara to define her lashes, and a swipe of tinted lip balm that made her lips look just kissed. Her hair was next, and after some deliberation, she decided to pull it back into a loose claw clip, a few face-framing strands falling softly around her cheeks.

By the time she finished getting ready, her nerves had kicked up a notch. She glanced at the clock—4:55 p.m. Harry would be here any minute.

Aspen fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, taking a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Her black long-sleeve hugged her frame just right, and the denim overalls gave her a playful, effortless charm. She debated for a fleeting moment whether to add a necklace or keep things simple, ultimately deciding on a dainty silver chain her mom had given her years ago. It felt like a small piece of home, grounding her amid the whirlwind of emotions.

Her thoughts drifted to Harry, and a soft smile curved her lips. She hadn't dated much—well, at all—and the idea of going out with someone as effortlessly confident and magnetic as Harry was both thrilling and terrifying. But then she remembered the way he looked at her, how his teasing words always held an undercurrent of warmth, and how safe he made her feel despite her awkwardness. It was Harry, she reminded herself. She didn't have to pretend or perform. He liked her for her, even if she didn't entirely understand why.

Still, the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't settle. What if she said the wrong thing? Or worse, tripped over her own feet? She shook her head at the thought, laughing softly at herself. "Stop overthinking," she whispered. "It's just Harry."

But that was the thing—it wasn't just Harry. He had quickly become someone special, someone who saw her in a way she hadn't been seen before. The thought made her chest tighten, but it was a good kind of ache, one filled with possibility.

She spritzed a light vanilla-scented perfume, the familiar scent giving her a small boost of confidence. As she set the bottle down, her phone buzzed on the dresser. It was a text from Harry:

Harry ⭐: Outside, love. No rush. Take your time.

Her heart skipped a beat at the simple message, his casual thoughtfulness wrapping around her like a warm hug. She slipped on her favorite pair of white sneakers, grabbed her small crossbody bag, and paused by the door. Her hands hovered over the handle as she took one final steadying breath. This was it. Their first real date.

Harry stood outside Aspen's apartment door, the bouquet resting against his forearm as he adjusted his grip. For the first time in a long while, he felt the kind of nervous energy that made his heart thrum faster than usual. He wasn't sure what it was about her that did this to him. Normally, confidence came easily—effortlessly even—but around Aspen, it was different. She made him feel like he wanted to try, to get it right, to be someone worthy of the way her eyes lit up when she smiled.

His free hand ran through his hair, still slightly damp from his earlier shower. He'd styled it loosely, letting the natural curls fall where they wanted. His usual black t-shirt and jeans were tempting, but he knew tonight was special. That dark green button-up he'd chosen clung comfortably to his frame, and the rolled-up sleeves gave just the right balance between casual and effort. He tugged the edge of his shirt down absently, double-checking himself in the reflection of a nearby window.

He sighed, catching the ghost of his nervous expression. What was wrong with him? He had done plenty of casual outings, flirted a hundred times without a second thought. But this wasn't like any of that. Aspen wasn't like any of that. She was... different. Gentle in a way that felt grounding but exhilarating all at once. It left him a little off-kilter, like he was navigating new waters he didn't quite understand yet.

The bouquet had been another decision he'd agonized over, spending more time in the florist's shop than he cared to admit. Roses felt a bit too traditional, but lilies seemed perfect—delicate, understated, and quietly beautiful, just like her. He could already picture the soft flush that would color her cheeks when she saw them, and the thought alone tugged a small, lopsided smile to his lips.

Harry's thumb brushed over the stems as he raised his fist to knock, hesitating for a split second. She deserves this, he told himself firmly. She deserves the best, and I'm going to make sure she gets it. His nerves still hummed under the surface, but his determination won out. Whatever doubts lingered in his mind, they didn't matter now. Aspen had chosen him—him—and he wasn't going to waste a second of it.

The soft rap of his knuckles against the door seemed to echo louder in his ears than it should have. He stepped back, adjusting his posture and pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. His jaw tightened briefly, not in frustration, but as a final act of steeling himself.

When the door finally opened, Harry's breath hitched ever so slightly. There she was, standing there in her denim overalls and a black long-sleeve, her hair clipped back in a way that framed her face perfectly. She looked up at him, her wide eyes catching the soft evening light, and the corners of his mouth quirked up instinctively.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she forgot how to speak. Harry stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe with a bouquet of roses and white lilies in his hand. His dark green shirt made his eyes stand out, the subtle glint of his lip ring catching the evening light. The familiar crooked smile on his face was softened by something tender, and she could see just a hint of nerves in the way he shifted his weight.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and warm but with a shy edge she hadn't heard before.

"Hi," Aspen replied, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes dropped to the flowers. Her lips curved into a smile. "Are those for me?"

Harry gave a small nod, holding the bouquet out toward her. "Roses and lilies," he said, his voice softening even further. "Thought they'd suit you."

Aspen's cheeks burned as she reached out to take them, her fingers brushing against his briefly. The petals were delicate under her touch, and the sweet scent of the flowers filled the space between them. She brought the bouquet closer, her smile growing. "They're beautiful, Harry. Thank you. No one's ever brought me flowers before."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he took her in. "What? Tha's criminal. Glad I could fix that." His gaze flickered over her, from the way the black long-sleeve hugged her frame to the casual charm of her denim overalls. "You look amazing, Asp. Absolutely perfect."

Aspen's stomach flipped at his words, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her overalls. "You're not so bad yourself," she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered slightly, giving her away.

Harry chuckled, his grin turning playful as he stepped aside to give her room. "Come on, lock up b'fore you 'ave me standing here all night, staring at you like a fool."

She laughed softly, the sound light and genuine as she grabbed her keys from the small hook by the door. Her fingers shook just a little as she locked up, the reality of their first date settling in with a mix of excitement and nerves.

When she turned back around, Harry extended his arm to her, his smile softening into something that felt almost reverent. "Shall we?"

Aspen hesitated for a heartbeat, not because she didn't want to but because the gesture felt so deliberate, so thoughtful. Sliding her arm through his, she let herself relax into his warmth, her heart racing in the best way possible. "We shall," she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing as she glanced up at him.

As they walked down the path to his car, the world around them seemed to fade into the background. The cool evening air was filled with the faint rustle of leaves and the rhythmic sound of their steps, but Aspen barely noticed. She was too focused on the way Harry's arm felt against hers, the way his thumb brushed her hand occasionally as if he couldn't help himself.

For Harry, each small touch sent a quiet thrill through him. He had been confident in the shop, telling himself he could pull this off, but now, with Aspen beside him, her laughter bubbling up at his quiet joke about tripping on the uneven pavement, he felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. She made him feel seen in a way he wasn't used to, and he didn't want to mess it up.

When they reached his car, he let go of her arm to step ahead, opening the passenger door for her. "Your chariot awaits," he said with a slight bow, his grin returning.

Aspen giggled, the sound light and unguarded. "Thank you, kind sir." She climbed in carefully, her heart doing flips as he closed the door behind her.

Harry took a deep breath as he rounded the car, running a hand through his curls. He wasn't one for nerves, but something about Aspen made him want to get everything right tonight. When he slid into the driver's seat and glanced over at her, she was arranging the bouquet on her lap, her fingers delicately straightening the stems. The sight of her, sitting there in his car with flowers he'd chosen for her, made his chest ache in a way he wasn't sure he could explain.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced with something more genuine.

Aspen turned to him, her eyes bright and filled with something that looked like hope. "Ready," she said, her smile easing his nerves just a little.

As he started the car and they pulled away, the atmosphere between them was light but charged with anticipation. Neither of them said it out loud, but both were thinking the same thing: tonight could be the beginning of something extraordinary.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The pottery studio was warm and cozy, the kind of place that invited calm with its earthy tones and gentle atmosphere. The faint hum of spinning wheels and the soft strains of acoustic guitar music created a soothing backdrop. Aspen and Harry had claimed a booth near the back, tucked away from the bustling center where most of the other participants worked. The relative quiet of their corner felt like its own little bubble, and the low murmur of their voices blended seamlessly with the surrounding ambiance.

Aspen sat with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her fingers coated in streaks of damp clay as she hunched over the spinning wheel in front of her. Despite her determined expression, there was a light dusting of pink on her cheeks—partly from the warmth of the room, but mostly from the presence of the man sitting just a foot away. Harry, relaxed and slightly leaned back in his chair, moved with practiced ease as he shaped his own clay. His rolled-up sleeves revealed toned forearms that flexed subtly with every movement, and Aspen had to remind herself not to stare.

She leaned forward slightly, biting her lip as she concentrated on the uneven lump in front of her. Her brows furrowed in frustration as the clay wobbled precariously, threatening to collapse into a shapeless heap.

Harry glanced over, catching the way her tongue peeked out in concentration, and smirked. "Careful, love," he teased, his voice low and warm. He nodded toward her clay, his emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. "Too much pressure, and you'll end up with a pancake instead of a bowl."

Aspen huffed a small laugh, her blush deepening as she stole a glance at him. "It's harder than it looks," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. Her hands hovered uncertainly over the spinning clay. "You make it look so easy."

"Years of practice," Harry replied with a grin, holding up his own clay-covered hands as if to demonstrate his supposed expertise. "And by 'years,' I mean this one time Zayn dragged me here last year for his birthday. Turns out it's not that different from sketching—just messier."

Aspen's lips curved into a smile, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. "Well, I guess I'll take all the tips I can get, Mr. Expert."

Harry chuckled, the sound low and easy, and for a moment, the room seemed even quieter, like the world outside their little booth had faded. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the rhythmic whir of the spinning wheels filling the space between them. Aspen couldn't help sneaking glances at him, her heart doing little flips every time he caught her gaze and smiled. She felt her nerves begin to settle, replaced by the comforting realization that this was Harry—funny, thoughtful, frustratingly charming Harry. The same Harry who had a knack for making her feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

"Where are y'from?" Harry asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious. He wasn't looking at her, his attention seemingly focused on his clay, but Aspen could tell he was waiting for her answer.

She paused, her hands stilling as she considered the question. "I grew up in a small town about two hours from here," she said, her voice soft but steady. "It was... quiet. Nice in some ways, I guess, but it wasn't really a place I felt like I belonged."

Harry turned his gaze to her, his expression open and attentive. "What about your parents? They still live there?"

The question made Aspen's fingers falter, and the clay beneath her hands wobbled precariously. She caught it just in time, smoothing the edge with deliberate movements as she pressed her lips together. "They do," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "But... we're not very close. It's, um... complicated."

Harry's chest tightened at the hesitant way she spoke, like she was carefully choosing each word. He noticed the way her shoulders tensed slightly, the way her fingers moved more deliberately as if the clay could offer her some sort of grounding. He didn't press for more, sensing the discomfort behind her words, but the thought of her growing up feeling distant from her family tugged at something deep in him. He didn't want to push her further than her limit or make her uncomfortable by pressing the question of 'how so?", so he left it for now.

"That sounds hard, Asp," he said gently, his voice low and sincere. "I'm sorry."

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. There was something in his eyes—something soft and understanding—that made her heart ache in the best way. "It's okay," she murmured, her fingers smoothing the rim of her bowl. "It's better now that I'm here. Away from all of that."

The words lingered in the air between them, and for a moment, Harry felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her hand, to offer her more comfort than his words could. But he stayed where he was, his jaw tightening as he swallowed the swell of sadness that had risen in his chest.

"What about you?" Aspen asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Her eyes lifted to meet his, her curiosity genuine. "Where are you from?"

Harry leaned back slightly, his hands pausing as he considered how to answer. "London," he said after a beat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I lived there 'til I was fifteen. Then m'parents decided to move t'the States for work."

"Was it hard to leave?" Aspen asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was soft, careful, like she didn't want to pry too much.

"Not really," Harry admitted, his smile growing a little. "I mean, my parents are amazing—married for thirty years, still act like teenagers in love. My sister's great too, though she was always the golden child. I had a good childhood, y'know? But... I never really felt like I fit in."

Aspen tilted her head, her hands pausing on her clay. "Why not?"

Harry shrugged, his fingers absently tapping the edge of his bowl. "I don't know. Maybe it was me being a moody teenager, or maybe it was just... I wanted something different. My parents are very by-the-book—doctor, lawyer, corporate type of life. I think they hoped I'd follow that path. But I hated school, acted out, got into trouble. I wasn't all too much 'f a fan of people breathing down my neck with some expectation for me to do better, even at my best I could offer, y'know?"

She nodded, taking in his words. "And tattooing?" Aspen prompted, her lips curving into a small smile.

"That was my escape," Harry said, his voice softening. "I started sketching designs in high school, maybe even b'fore we moved, and when I turned eighteen, I got my first tattoo that my parents knew of. They were horrified." He chuckled, shaking his head. "My first one was actually four months after we moved out here. It was a shitty stick-and-poke that I done myself after a classmate raved on 'bout them. Was somethin' like a stupid skull with flames around it. It's long faded now, hence the shitty job. But eventually, they came around. They didn't understand it, but they supported me anyway."

Aspen's smile widened, and she looked at him with something close to admiration. A soft giggle fell from her lips at his first tattoo. "That's nice. That they supported you, I mean."

Harry met her gaze, his own smile softening. "Yeah. They did. And they're proud of me now, even if they still cringe when I add something new to my arms."

The moment lingered between them, warm and filled with quiet understanding. Harry watched Aspen as she turned back to her clay, her expression thoughtful, and felt that familiar tug in his chest—the one that only seemed to come when he was around her. She had a way of making him feel like he wanted to be better, like he could be better. And for the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he might actually be enough.

Aspen's eyes fiddled back to his arms, his hands still working over the clay which had now formed what looked to be a mug. She took notice of every scattered piece on his arms, from what she could see, a soft curve of a smile still on her lips.

"I'll let you look over them one day, if y'want." Harry's voice broke her semi-trance and she looked back up to him with flushed red cheeks. He laughed softly at her embarrassed stutter. "Sorry, love. Jus' felt you lookin', but nothing wrong with it. I look at you more than you realize."

His comment made her stomach flip and she took in a small breath, biting back a grin. He always knew what to say, always found a way to make her comfortable and not feel wrong for her words or her actions. He always understood. It wasn't like he gave a great deal of a speech on why she shouldn't be embarrassed, but the way with his words was a way Aspen understood perfectly well and it eased her mind.

"Do you have a favorite?" Aspen quipped, going back to fixating on her lump of clay that was more structured into a bowl now. With a satisfied hum, she softened out the edges. Harry let out a sound that implied he was thinking, his eyes darting over his own tattoos now. "'m not too sure, really. I have a few chest pieces, maybe those. Or the tiger." Harry etched patterns into the clay to attach the handle he had molded.

Aspen looked up with furrowed brows. "Chest pieces? The tiger? Do I even know you, Harold?" She teased, a small giggle breaking her once more. He followed suit, a chuckle as he looked over at her. "Yeah, 's just a few scattered. And the tiger is on m'thigh. Maybe I'll have t'show you one day, hm?" A smirk flashed over his lips, one that had Aspen's stomach coil and heat rise along the back of her neck and the tips of her ears.

She nodded shyly, pulling her eyes back to her clay bowl. "You're silly, you know?"

Harry raised a brow, his turn table coming to a slow stop, followed by Aspens halting as well. "Silly? What about handsome? Charming? Daring? Sexy?" 

Aspen only giggled and rolled her eyes, shaking her head in amusement. Oh, he was definitely all of those, so she shrugged and nodded. "Only if you tag silly onto that list!"

Harry chuckled softly, pulling the thin wire under his piece to remove his work from the table. "I will, but only if you put silly into your list of absolutely beautiful, and kind, and so sweet, and--."

"Harry!", she squeaked out and laughed, her foot reaching over to gently knock the side of his leg. Aspen's cheeks flared with a hot red now, her front framing pieces doing absolutely nothing to help her. 

The pottery studio was beginning to empty out, the hum of conversation softening as people wrapped up their creations. Aspen and Harry carefully lifted their clay pieces—her bowl and his mug—and walked over to the shelving unit near the ovens where the drying process would begin. Each step felt measured and deliberate, as if the weight of their work reflected the care they'd put into it. Aspen gently placed her bowl on the tray, stepping back to admire how smooth the edges had turned out.

"You're sure you don't want to sign it?" Harry asked, tilting his head as he placed his mug down beside her piece.

Aspen shrugged, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I don't think it's that good. Yours turned out way better."

Harry smirked, reaching out to gently nudge her shoulder with his own. "Yours is great, Asp. Don't sell yourself short." His voice held no trace of teasing, just a quiet sincerity that made her stomach flutter.

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Thanks, Harry."

The instructor confirmed they could return the next day to retrieve their dried pieces, and with that, they left the studio. The evening air was cool against Aspen's flushed cheeks, and as they walked to Harry's car, she couldn't help but feel lighter, more at ease than she had in a long time.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day, Aspen stood in front of her mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her outfit. She chose a simple white Brandy Melville milkmaid top, its soft fabric brushing against her skin, paired with her grey fold-over flared leggings. It was a comfortable choice, but there was something about it that felt effortlessly put together, like she'd struck the perfect balance between casual and intentional. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, excitement curling in her chest. The spring air outside was crisp yet warm, the kind of weather that promised new beginnings. She made a mental note to savor the sunshine whenever she could.

When Harry arrived, he leaned casually against his car, sunglasses perched on his nose. His maroon plaid flannel hung open, revealing a loosely fitted white tee underneath, the sleeves rolled just enough to hint at the tattoos scattered along his forearms. His black jeans clung to his legs in a way that looked lived-in, and his boots gave his stance an easy confidence. He didn't have to try—Harry simply existed in a way that commanded attention without asking for it.

He grinned at her as she approached, the kind of lopsided grin that made her stomach flutter. "Ready to see how our masterpieces turned out?" he asked, his tone playful, but his eyes carried something warmer, like a quiet excitement that mirrored her own.

Aspen nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "I just hope mine didn't crack or something." She couldn't hide the way her hands fidgeted slightly, betraying the nerves she didn't want to admit to feeling.

"Doubt it," Harry said as he opened the car door for her. His voice was low and steady, grounding her in that moment. He slid into the driver's seat with a practiced ease, his hand resting loosely on the gear shift. "Y'put too much care into it for that to happen."

The sincerity in his words made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't explain, like he saw something in her work—something in her—that she hadn't even let herself see yet.

They arrived at the studio, the familiar earthy scent of dried clay mingling with the faint sweetness of paint. Aspen's heart picked up as they made their way to the back table where their pieces rested. Her bowl sat there, fully dried, its shape slightly imperfect but undeniably hers. She picked it up gently, tracing her fingers over the smooth surface and smiling at the way it had held together.

Harry's mug sat beside it, the handle firmly attached, its edges rustic in a way that made it feel personal. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands with a look of quiet pride. "Not bad," he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "This might actually hold coffee."

Aspen laughed softly, holding her bowl close to her chest as if it were a fragile treasure. "Yours turned out great. Look at the handle—it's perfect!"

His grin widened, his eyes darting from his mug to her. "Told you," he teased. "Y'just gotta trust the process, love."

They decided together to skip the long glazing and firing process. "I don't think I can wait another week to see these done," Aspen admitted, running her fingers over her bowl again, imagining the colors she could bring to it.

Harry nodded, already reaching for brushes and palettes. "Same. Let's get creative, yeah?"

Their booth had become their spot, a quiet corner that felt tucked away from the rest of the world. Aspen stared at her bowl, her mind awash with ideas as she loaded her palette with soft pastel colors—blush pinks and muted blues. Across from her, Harry worked with the same easy confidence as before, layering a deep emerald green onto his mug.

"What're you thinking?" he asked, his gaze flicking up to hers as he dipped his brush into the paint.

"Maybe some light pinks and blues," she murmured, focusing on the smooth strokes of her brush. "Something soft and simple."

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a small smirk. "Like you." His tone was light, but there was an undeniable sincerity in the way he looked at her, like he'd just spoken the most obvious truth.

Aspen's cheeks flushed instantly, and she ducked her head, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't hide. "And you? Green? That's your go-to, isn't it?"

He chuckled, pausing his work to glance down at his palette. "It's lucky, I guess. Plus, it goes with everything. Kind of like you and your books—always a good match."

Her laughter came soft and genuine, easing the tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The quiet rhythm of their brushes filled the space between their words, punctuated by the occasional clink of their palettes.

Harry found himself glancing at her more than he cared to admit, his heart catching at the way her brows furrowed slightly when she concentrated, or the way she bit her lip while deciding between shades. She had a way of losing herself in her work, and it was mesmerizing to him.

For Aspen, the sight of Harry so focused on his mug was something new, something she couldn't look away from. He wasn't the cocky guy she'd met at Zayn's party in this moment. He was patient, deliberate, and wholly engaged, a side of him she hadn't seen before but found herself wanting to know better.

As the afternoon stretched on, the clay transformed under their brushes, vibrant colors and patterns blooming on their once-plain surfaces. The pieces felt like more than pottery now; they carried the weight of laughter and quiet moments shared, the unspoken connection building between them.

"You know," Harry said as he cleaned his brush, his voice softer now, "you're pretty good at this, Asp."

Aspen looked up, her cheeks still warm from the afternoon sun streaming through the studio window. Her lips curved into a shy smile, her voice just above a whisper. "Thanks, Harry. So are you."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur, leaving only the quiet understanding that had grown between them. Neither spoke, but the look they shared said enough.

As the afternoon sun filtered through the studio's wide windows, painting soft streaks of gold across the room, Aspen fiddled nervously with the hem of her shirt. The faint scent of paint and dried clay lingered in the air, grounding her even as her heart raced. She glanced at her bowl, which now sat complete and drying on the table before her. The pastel hues of pink and faint blue felt almost too revealing, like they carried all of the emotions she hadn't yet been brave enough to voice aloud.

In the bowl's center was a simple yet deliberate design: a baby pink conversation heart with soft light blue edging, bearing the words "BE MINE?" written in delicate, careful strokes. Around the rim were tiny white daisies, their petals soft and hopeful, and at the bottom, nestled subtly on the curve, were their initials: "h & a," etched in lowercase cursive. It felt deeply personal, yet it was playful, a reflection of her timid but growing confidence to ask Harry the question she'd been holding onto for days.

She'd agonized over the idea with Isobel, turning it over in her mind a hundred times. "What if it's too soon?" Aspen had asked, clutching her phone in one hand and pacing her small bedroom as she spoke to her friend. "I don't even know if he feels the same way."

"Are you kidding me?" Isobel had replied, her tone brimming with exasperation and certainty. "He's head over heels for you, Aspen. Anyone with eyes can see that. And even if—if—he said no, you know Harry. He'd never hurt you. But trust me, he's going to say yes."

Aspen had spent that night nervously sketching her idea on paper, imagining how it would look once painted on the bowl. Even as her nerves prickled at her, a part of her was hopeful—Isobel was right. Harry had been nothing but kind and understanding, even with her shyness. If anyone deserved her vulnerability, it was him.

Now, sitting across from Harry, she could barely meet his eyes. He was finishing his mug, a simple yet bold design in Green Bay Packers green and gold. Harry leaned back in his chair, setting his brush down with a satisfied grin as he surveyed his work. "Done," he announced, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "What do you think, Asp?"

Aspen glanced over at his mug, and a laugh bubbled up despite her nerves. "It's so... you," she said, her lips curving into a small smile. "It's perfect. The colors are so clean, and that handle—it's like a real pro made it."

Harry chuckled, tilting his head as he watched her. "Y'really think so? I just slapped some paint on and called it good." His green eyes sparkled, the warmth in them enough to make Aspen's heart flutter. "What about yours? Let's see it."

Aspen froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. She shook her head quickly, her fingers wrapping protectively around the edge of her bowl. "It's not ready," she stammered, trying to find a way to delay the inevitable. "Yours is much better."

Harry raised an amused brow, leaning forward slightly. "Asp," he said gently, his voice laced with patience but a playful edge, "you've been working on that bowl like it's the crown jewel. C'mon, lemme see."

Her lips parted to argue, but the soft persistence in his gaze disarmed her. She sighed, biting her lip as she gave him a nervous glance. "Fine," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly as she turned the bowl around. Then, as quickly as she revealed it, she hid her face behind it, her cheeks burning crimson. "Don't laugh!" she squeaked.

Harry's grin melted into something softer as his eyes landed on the delicate design. The pastel heart in the center caught his attention first, its message immediately sinking in. "BE MINE?" The words seemed to echo in his mind, the simplicity and vulnerability of them striking something deep within him. His gaze traced the daisies along the rim, each petal meticulously painted, before settling on the initials at the bottom. It wasn't just a bowl—it was a piece of Aspen, every stroke filled with her thoughtfulness and care.

Harry's chest tightened, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn't quite explain. He felt his heart stutter, his usual confidence giving way to something softer, more reverent. For a moment, he didn't say anything, letting the weight of her question settle around them.

When Aspen peeked out from behind the bowl, her expression was a mix of nerves and hope. "It's okay if you don't—" she started, her voice barely audible.

But Harry cut her off, his voice soft and full of something she hadn't heard before. "Really? You really want m'to be yours?" His eyes searched hers, his tone laced with wonder and disbelief. "'M so lucky, Asp. Of course, I'll be yours."

Her breath hitched, relief and joy flooding her all at once. Before she could respond, Harry reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles as he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. Harry intertwined their fingers and set them in her lap, thumb tracing small patterns on the back of her hand. "You've no idea how much this means t'me," he murmured, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

Aspen's heart raced, her cheeks still flushed as she managed a shy smile. "Really?"

"Really," Harry said, his grin returning, though it was softer now, tinged with affection. "And for the record, your bowl's not jus' good—it's perfect. Jus' like you."

Aspen ducked her head, laughing softly as her fingers tightened around his. In that moment, the rest of the studio faded away, leaving only the two of them and the quiet promise shared between them.

Harry let his fingers trace over the rim of the bowl, feeling the soft curves of the painted daisies and the faint grooves where her brush had left its mark. His chest ached with something indescribable—an overwhelming tenderness he hadn't anticipated. He glanced back at Aspen, who was biting her lip and nervously watching him from under her lashes, as if bracing for his reaction. The shyness in her posture made his heart squeeze, and he couldn't stop the soft laugh that escaped his lips.

"Asp," he said, his voice low and warm, shaking his head slightly as if trying to process what was in front of him. "This is... I don't even have the words. I's the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me."

Her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, and she looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt. "You really like it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with vulnerability.

"Like it?" Harry repeated, his voice growing softer as he leaned in just slightly. "I love it. Absolutely love it. But you didn't have t'do this, y'know. You didn't have to ask me first." His words were gentle, but they carried a quiet intensity. "I mean, don't get me wrong—I'm so glad you did. It's just... Aspen, I've been yours for a while now. I would've asked eventually. Felt like an unspoken rule that we were each others," he smiled that lopsided grin that always lingered in her mind, "but now i's... cemented. Explicitly each others."

Aspen's fingers froze their restless movement, and she dared to look up at him. Her gaze was filled with a mix of emotions—nervousness, hope, and something fragile yet resilient. She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I know," she murmured, her words so soft he almost had to strain to hear them. "I knew you probably would've asked, but... I wanted to do it."

Harry's brows furrowed slightly in confusion, his emerald eyes searching hers. "Why, love? You didn't have to put yourself out there like this." The girl could tell Harry had no tinge of criticism, just that he was curious and genuine.

She hesitated, the weight of her own feelings pressing down on her. Her gaze flickered back to the bowl, her fingers brushing against the edge as if it were a lifeline. "Because," she began, her voice steadying slightly as she forced herself to speak, "you've done so much for me, Harry. You're always the one who makes the effort, who makes sure I'm okay. You've been so... patient. And safe. I've never felt that way with anyone before."

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, and she glanced up at him again, her cheeks still burning but her words steady now. "I wanted to give you something—a memory. Something real that you could hold onto. You deserve that. And..." She trailed off, her lips curving into a faint, nervous smile. "I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

Harry's throat tightened, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say. He could feel the sincerity radiating from her, the courage it had taken for her to make this gesture. Aspen wasn't someone who put herself out there easily, and the fact that she had done this for him made him feel like the most fortunate man in the world.

"Aspen," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He reached for her hand, his fingers curling gently around hers. "That's... the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me. I don't even know what to say."

Her eyes flickered to their joined hands, and she gave a small, nervous laugh. "You don't have to say anything, really. I just... I wanted to do it."

Harry shook his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles once again. He kept his gaze on her as he pulled back, his voice quiet but steady. "You didn't have to, but I'm so glad you did. And for the record? You make me feel the same way—safe, cared for, all of it. You've no idea how lucky I feel."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Really?" she asked, her voice barely audible in its squeak.

"Really," he affirmed, his grin soft and full of warmth. "You're amazing, Asp. You've been my girl for a while now, you just made it official."

Aspen ducked her head, her smile shy but radiant, her heart fluttering in a way she hadn't felt before. "I'm glad," she whispered, her words almost swallowed by the warmth between them.

Harry gave her hand another gentle squeeze, his voice laced with quiet affection. "You've given me a memory I'll never forget, love. Not just this bowl, but this moment." He paused, his smile growing. "I'm yours, Asp. Always."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When they got back to their car, ceramic pieces wrapped in brown paper wrappings and tucked into her tote bag that rested at her feet, Harry took a squick glance around at the quiet, empty secluded area before leaning over the center console to cup the girls cheek and pull her in for a kiss.

Aspens cheeks tinted their usual pink again at the sudden movement that caught her off guard. Nonetheless, she loved kissing Harry. She was grateful how he always took the time to make sure she was comfortable before initiating anything. Her dainty fingers wrapped around his wrist gently while she leaned up into the kiss. He always met her, whether it was him leaning over or him tilting down. A smile curled onto her lips against Harry's.

His lips lingered, working once or twice with hers before he sat back down with another lopsided grin splattered on his face. "Sorry, baby. Couldn't wait."

She giggled softly, shaking her head as he started up the car and buckled himself in. The hand that came to rest on her thigh gently patted the covered skin before Aspen got the hint and intertwined her fingers into his. Her eyes scanned over where they connected. The girls hand was much smaller than his, yet fit so well. Aspen's brown eyes traveled up to his wrist, taking in each etch of the tattoos, some messier than others but thats what made Harry Harry. 

Aspen relaxed back into her seat as the car rumbled to life and Harry began backing out the space. With a shy smile of her own, she looked over at him and back to the road ahead. "I can't believe I have a boyfriend." With a content sigh and a kiss from Harry to her hand, she felt at peace. Excitement still bubbled in her chest and she swore to bother Isobel about it until her ears fell off.

"First and only, angel."

[gullemec]

Down the Rabbit Hole

Golden Cage - Chapter One

series masterlist ao3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: After living in the throes of grief for over a year, your world is turned upside down in the space of a few hours.

Warnings: use of chloroform, mention of death, depiction of grief, cigarettes, swearing, mild non-sexual bondage

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 4.3k

A/N: Hello and welcome to my first ever fic (that I'm sharing with the world lol). I have this fully written already and will be uploading new chapters weekly. I'm so excited to share this and I hope you enjoy <3

Click. Click. Click. 

Your painfully tall Louboutins emit an incessant clatter against the linoleum as you speed-walk down the hall, each step echoing louder than the last. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzz faintly, threatening to carve a fresh headache into the already frayed edges of your mind.

You hate these heels. The nude patent leather straps always dig into your Achilles tendon, rubbing your skin raw and leaving blisters you’ll have to nurse later. You didn’t even want to wear them today, knowing you’d stick out like a sore thumb amongst the other interns in their practical loafers and sneakers. As a matter of fact, you didn't want to be here today at all, coerced into this internship by your domineering father. 

But you did all of these things at the behest of your father's new wife. Monica. 

You tried not to hate your father's new, uncomfortably young wife from the moment you met her, tried not to fall into that tired, clichéd resentment people would expect from someone in your position. But, to be fair, she didn't try very hard not to be hateable. The fact that your father had been having an affair with her while married to your mother didn't help. It was the part where he married her less than six months after your mother died that really sealed the deal for you, though. 

Some days, you almost can’t blame her. Your father is a very rich man, with the kind of wealth that transcends mere comfort and slips into legend. Fuck you money, some might say, courtesy of CytoGenix, the pharmaceutical empire he built from the ground up. A foster kid turned multi-billionaire, he had worked obsessively, channeling his past struggles into an unrelenting ambition. He ate, lived, and breathed CytoGenix. When he'd had a bedroom installed next to his office at CytoGenix headquarters, you and your mother had made many a workaholic joke at his expense. While this was true, it was an open secret that your father partook in multiple extramarital affairs, and a bedroom in the office certainly wasn't the worst place to take a mistress. If it wasn't Monica that caught his attention there were troves of other twenty-something beauty queens that would have gladly taken her place, prior marriage vows be damned. 

Only, Monica didn't need his money. No, Monica Jones-Morgan is an executive at Vought International. Today's heroes, tomorrow's future. A veritable wunderkind, Monica did just fine for herself. Her motivations for pursuing your father remained a mystery to you.

And when your mother passed unexpectedly, leaving you bereft and reeling, Monica wasted no time taking the barely cold title of Mrs. Stanley Morgan. 

So Monica could fucking spare it when she insisted you dress the part of the Chairman and CEO’s daughter during your internship at CytoGenix. She had wasted no time asserting herself, down to the smallest details, like how you should dress for the internship your father insisted you take. Each morning you strolled into CytoGenix headquarters in the kind of outfits that screamed nepotism: Prada pencil skirts, Balmain blazers, and the Gucci lab coat that was embroidered with your initials.

The only thing this accomplished was earning you bemused looks from the other interns dressed in sensible business casual. You couldn't be certain that this wasn't some obscure hazing ritual intended to keep you from making friends in the office, because that was exactly what was happening. Despite your best attempts at endearing yourself to the other twenty-something interns on your rotation, you received nothing in return but pursed smiles and polite rebuffs to your suggestions to grab a drink after work. 

Earlier today, you tried—really tried—to prove yourself, clipboard in hand as you descended thirty floors into the basement lab with two other interns, Adam and Emily. The silence in the elevator was suffocating, but you held your head high. Down in the lab, you collected samples, filled a centrifuge, and for a fleeting moment, you felt competent. Useful. Like maybe your four years studying Biological Sciences at Cambridge weren’t just a vanity project.

But then Adam stopped you. His hand closed over the beaker you were holding, his smile tight and patronizing.

“I’m sure you don’t want to ruin your fancy lab coat. Let us handle this,” he said, his tone reeking of condescension, like a parent reasoning with a stubborn child.

Your mouth opened, ready to argue, but the words caught in your throat. The Gucci logo on your lab coat suddenly felt like a neon sign blinking above your head. You wanted to disappear.

Months spent trying to prove yourself and fit in with your peers, taking on the brunt of the workload and smiling politely through jokes made at your expense, all for nothing. Despite your airtight credentials and humble attitude, these people would simply never be able to see beyond your surname. You never had any strong desire to partake in this internship, but your father and Monica had needled you for months about it, insisting you needed the experience for when you would inherit the family business. If either of them had any interest in ascertaining whether or not you wanted that, they didn’t make it known.

So you left. Rode the elevator back up, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, but the tears stung at the corners of your eyes anyway. Briefly, the thought crossed your mind that you might call your mother and vent to her. But only briefly, before the crushing weight of reality quashed that idea, sending an icy jab to your heart. In the time since her passing these moments happened less and less frequently, but the breath-stealing pain you felt each time you were reminded of her absence had not dulled in the least. 

Now you storm down the hallway, heels clacking angrily against the tile. The remarks from the past few months replay in your head, each one another tiny dagger:

“What a surprise, the CEO’s daughter got an internship.”

“Some of us actually had to work to get here.”

And your personal favorite: “Your dad married that lady from Vought, right? Oh my god, have you ever met Homelander?”

Your pace quickens until you can’t stand the sound of your own footsteps. You stop abruptly, reach down, and rip the heels off your feet. Looking the part be damned, if you hear another click you're going to start pulling your hair out by the root, and that certainly wouldn't be becoming of the CEO’s daughter. The relief is instant, but your anger doesn’t ebb. You toss the shoes and your lab coat aside as you shove open a side door, stepping into the cool air of the alley outside.

The smell hits you first: the sharp tang of garbage mingling with the faint diesel fumes of passing trucks. You grimace, but it’s a welcome reprieve from the sterile, clinical air of the building. Leaning against the rough brick wall, you reach into your waistband and pull out a pack of cigarettes, retrieving a lighter from your bra. Your little secret, your covert rebellion against the carefully crafted image Monica insists you present to the world.

You place a cigarette between your lips and flick the lighter, shielding the flame from the breeze with your hand. But just as the spark catches, the sound of footsteps freezes you.

Someone’s coming.

Did Adam follow you out here? Had your father been watching the cameras, sending out a security guard to extinguish the flame before you could taint your precious lungs? 

But then you see a shadow move closer, and before you can react, a cloth presses against your face.

The chemical scent is overpowering, seeping into your lungs, and panic sets in as you struggle against an unseen grip. Your cigarette falls to the ground, forgotten, as darkness rushes in from the edges of your vision.

Then, nothing.

~~~

You awake to darkness and a pounding headache, like a bass drum reverberating through your skull.

Slowly, as consciousness filters back in, details trickle in: a tightness across your chest and arms, the rough rope biting into your wrists, the scratchy material chafing your face. A burlap sack, maybe? The unforgiving metal of the chair you're tied to bites into the cushion of your ass. Most bizarrely, though, is the cloying smell of cheap laundry detergent permeating the thick air around you. 

Swiftly, mercilessly, your head covering is removed. You wince at the sudden intrusion of light and blink at the three amorphous figures swimming in your vision. 

One is tall and lanky, mid-twenties at most, with a mop of dark brown hair. He stares at you with his head cocked to the side, confusion clouding his features. To his left, a wiry man with sharp cheekbones and an unmistakable French accent is holding up a photo, tilting it side to side as if the angle might help him make sense of it. The third figure, a hulking man in a trench coat, leans against the wall at the back of the room, arms crossed and scowling like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Dude, that looks nothing like her,” the lanky one says, scrutinizing your face, and then the photo. 

“Quoi? Look closely, Hughie, it is ze same hair!” The shorter one gesticulates, moving the photo around as to provide different angles. His accent is thick, French if you had to guess. “Perhaps ze light in ze alley, it was… unforgiving, no?”

“It’s not her, Frenchie.” says Trenchcoat in the back. His voice cuts through the room, sharp and gravelly, his British accent undeniable. His gaze is pure disdain as he points at you.  “You grabbed the wrong bloody person. How the fuck did you manage that?”

The three of them descend into chaos, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of accusations.

“You said she was in a lab coat!” Hughie yelps. “She was! And she had ze shoes!” “Well, her shoes are gone now and—” “Maybe you should’ve bloody checked her face!”

Their bickering makes your headache exponentially worse. You press your wrists against the ropes, but they’re bound tight, and frustration bubbles over.

“Hey!” you snap, your voice cutting through the argument like a whip. “I’m right here! Would someone mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

The three abruptly stop and turn to look at you, clearly having forgotten about your presence in the room. The men exchange frenzied glances, none particularly eager to explain your present circumstances. 

“Uh… so, funny story…” Hughie glances nervously at the others, clearly hoping one of them will jump in. When they don’t, he grimaces. “We, uh… we made a mistake.” His tone is pleading, his expression desperate, but it does little to assuage the anxiety bubbling inside of you. 

“A mistake?” you repeat, incredulous. “You kidnapped me!”

“Technically, Frenchie kidnapped you,” Hughie blurts.

“Merci beaucoup,” Frenchie mutters, rolling his eyes.

Hughie sighs. “Look, we thought you were someone else, okay? This is just a… misunderstanding. No harm, no foul, yeah?”

“No harm, no foul?” you echo, your voice rising. “Who the hell were you even trying to grab?”

Trenchcoat steps away from the wall, his jaw tightening. He looks at you, then at the other two, and shakes his head in disgust. You take a mental note that this one must be the leader. “Hughie and Frenchie here were looking for some Pharma bigwig’s little wife and nabbed you instead.” He takes a moment to shoot the other two a look. “Now obviously you’re not her. Not even close. Bloody amateurs.”

Some Pharma bigwig's little wife? He can't be serious right now. 

You stare at him in disbelief, your pulse spiking. “You tried to kidnap my fucking stepmother?”

That gets their attention. Frenchie’s brows shoot up, Hughie’s mouth falls open, and Butcher actually pauses mid-step, his head tilting like he’s trying to piece together a complicated puzzle.

“Your stepmom is Monica Jones-Morgan?” Hughie asks in disbelief. He holds the photo up in front of you for the first time and you recognize it as her insufferably photoshopped LinkedIn profile picture. Her impossibly smooth skin, perfectly laid tresses, and inhumanly white smile seem to taunt you despite their current 2D form. Of fucking course Monica has indirectly caused even more trouble for you, because why wouldn't she?

“The one and only,” you sigh, not bothering to hide your disdain. 

Hughie swears under his breath. The three of them exchange glances, Trenchoat shooting them both daggers. 

“Fucking hell,” Trenchcoat mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Your old man married her? You’ve got some shit luck, love.”

“Tell me about it,” you deadpan.

“What are we gonna do now?” Hughie asks, his voice rising in panic. “We can’t just let her go—she’ll tell Monica, and then—”

“Oh, shut it,” Butcher snaps, silencing him with a glare. “You two’ve cocked this up enough already.”

For the second time in as many minutes, you watch the men fall into a barely comprehensible fray, voices overlapping and intruding upon one another as they deflect responsibility and place blame anywhere else. 

And, once again, you force them to remember your inconvenient presence. 

“I won't tell her.”

Your words cut through the air, silencing the men. They all turn to you, suspicion etched into their faces.

Trenchoat narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. “I fucking hate that bitch. If you'd abducted the right woman,” you shoot a contemptuous look toward your kidnappers, “I can't say I would have complained.”

The room falls silent, tension thick in the air. Trenchcoat watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“Bullshit,” he finally says, though there’s no real conviction behind the word.

“Untie her,” comes a firm, commanding voice from the doorway.

You're convinced you're hallucinating this entire experience now because the woman that appears in the doorframes is the very girl that adorned the walls of your preteen bedroom, the very woman you'd seen grace every television in the city when she joined the Seven. 

“Fucking Starlight?!” You gasp out. You suddenly feel incredibly lightheaded, the room around you taking on an unreal quality, head lolling to the side as you dip down toward unconsciousness. 

Starlight rushes to your side, placing her palm on your cheek and forcing you to look at her. 

“Hey, look at me,” she says, her voice soft but urgent. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” 

You shake your head weakly, still reeling. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Not yet,” she says with a faint smile. Then, turning to Butcher, her expression hardens. “What the hell happened?”

Hughie speaks from behind her. “We messed up, Frenchie took Monica's stepdaughter instead of Monica.”

Starlight shakes her head at Hughie. “Frenchie, what the hell? They look nothing alike.” She turns back to look at you. “Are you going to be okay?” 

You nod limply. 

“We're letting her go,” Starlight speaks with such conviction that you're given a glimmer of hope that the men might listen to her. “Butcher, I'm serious.”

Butcher. 

You lift your head to take in the man you'd only identified as Trenchcoat before now. You think Butcher is an appropriate name for the man, with his broad shoulders and cold, unflinching gaze. The kind of man whose mere presence in a room elevates the danger level, who takes up space unapologetically. 

Butcher clicks his jaw, shaking his head. “And how exactly are you going to explain this to them, hm? Sorry sweetheart, we ain't buyin’ it.”

You swallow deeply, rallying up the strength to sit straight in the chair. “I guarantee you neither she nor my father have even noticed I'm even gone yet.” You hold Butcher's gaze, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. “Maybe I could help you.”

He scoffs. “And how exactly would you help us?” His implication pisses you off, that even this stranger that just fucking kidnapped you finds you as seemingly incompetent as everyone else in your life. 

But you hold strong, refusing to wear any emotion other than resigned bemusement. You shrug. 

“You obviously wanted Monica for something. Was it a ransom? I can get you cash,” you offer, but something tells you it's not that simple. You turn your gaze to Starlight, now knelt beside you. “Do you need information for Vought or something? Why are you involved in this?” 

She just turns and looks at Hughie who shakes his head at her. Everyone in the room just looks at you, equal parts pity and worry playing on their faces. It pisses you off even more. 

“Will someone please just tell me what the fuck is going on?! I have no loyalty to Vought or to CytoGenix or to my father or his wife, okay? Just fucking untie me and we can work something out.” Despite your outward coolness, you're afraid, and you're willing to make any deal that will secure your freedom from this increasingly bizarre situation. 

Starlight huffs from beside you. “I'm untying her.” 

“Like hell we are,” Butcher snaps, stepping forward to stop her. He stops when she shoots him a look, the lightbulbs in the room flickering with the threat.

“She’s not Monica. She’s not Vought. She’s just caught in the middle of your mess, Butcher.”

Finally, with a frustrated grunt, Butcher waves her off. “Fine. Untie her. But don’t come crying to me when this bites us in the arse.”

As the ropes fall away, you rub your wrists, staring at the group that’s just turned your life upside down. You’re free. For now.

You wrap your arms around Starlight in a desperate embrace.

“Hey, it's alright. You're okay,” she soothes. She takes a step back to look you over, ensuring you're alright. “What happened to your shoes?”

You look down to find your bare feet on the dirty cement floor. An incredulous laugh escapes your mouth as you realize those damned Louboutin heels must still be in a heap with your lab coat, left in the alleyway. Like you'd evaporated and left behind a puddle of overpriced luxury brands. 

This was no dream. 

~~~

You're nestled on an old couch, warm cup of tea in hand. It’s lukewarm now, but you cling to it like a lifeline, its earthy aroma the only thing grounding you in this surreal nightmare. A scratchy blanket is tucked around your shoulders and it absolutely reeks of the same cheap laundry detergent that assaulted your nose when you first awoke in this place. This is because, as Hughie explained, you are in fact in the basement of some rinky-dink laundromat in Brooklyn. The dark and damp space is currently serving as a clandestine base of operations for the group you've suddenly found yourself thrust into. 

Around you, the room feels too quiet, too full of unspoken tension. 

Butcher sits across from you on the coffee table, his elbows braced on his knees, his intense gaze drilling into you. Starlight lingers by your side, her presence warm but oddly dissonant in the damp, shadowy basement. Hughie leans against a defunct washing machine, while Frenchie lingers on the periphery, the two exchanging occasional glances. You know they're uneasy having you here, and you can’t blame them. You’re a liability. Still, the vulnerability cuts both ways; you’re not exactly thrilled to be trapped in a basement with people who kidnapped you less than an hour ago.

Butcher finally breaks the silence. “Your stepmum, is Monica Jones-Morgan. She’s an executive at Vought, yeah?”

You nod, unsure of where this is heading but too stunned to push back.

“She’s been orchestratin’ some very interesting deals between Vought and CytoGenix. That ring any bells?”

You nod again. You knew that your father's marriage to Monica had been mutually advantageous, outside of the fact that he was filthy rich with a couple heart attacks under his belt and she was young and did Pilates twice daily. It had been their plan all along to partner the companies. In fact, it had been at a meeting to discuss the venture that the two had initially met. 

Butcher narrows his eyes, watching your reaction like a hawk. “You heard anything about a new project? Something they’ve been keeping quiet?”

That you didn't know. “No? I mean, I know some things, but I'm not exactly sitting in on board meetings.”

His lips press into a thin line. “That’s what we were hoping your dear stepmum could tell us. Something big’s brewing between Vought and CytoGenix, something nasty. And if it’s nasty enough for them to be so secretive, we need to know what it is.”

You glance at Starlight, desperate for some sense of sanity in this madness. “Okay? Why is this worth kidnapping someone over? I mean, so what if my dad is working with Vought? How bad could this project possibly be?” You search her eyes for answers, but she avoids your gaze. “You're in the Seven, for fuck’s sake. What are you doing here if these guys are trying to kidnap someone that you work for?”

Butcher and Starlight share a look. You really wish everyone would stop fucking looking at each other and just tell you what's going on. She turns to look at you and places a hand on your knee. 

Starlight sighs, her shoulders slumping.  “It’s worse than you think. Vought isn’t… what you think it is. They’re not saving people. They’re killing them. Covering it up. They’ll do anything to protect their power.”

You pull back from her, head reeling. There's no way. She has to be lying. Sure, you hated Monica, but you trusted the work she did. You'd toured Vought Tower, shook hands with Homelander and Queen Maeve. Despite having grown out of your preteen obsession, you'd been pleased when you saw Starlight join the infamous crime fighting team. Vought was as American and trustworthy as apple pie and baseball. 

You blink at her, struggling to process her words. “Killing people?” you repeat, your voice almost a whisper.

But then an image flickers in your mind. A Vought stamp adorning a manila envelope, the image of it in your mind alone nauseating you. A year and a half of grieving your mother. Eighteen months of filing requests, calling office after office, and dealing with a barrage of bureaucratic red tape. The envelope was slipped under your apartment door, no postage attached. Inside, page after page of incomprehensible medical jargon, anatomical diagrams affixed with chicken scratch notes you could barely decipher. There was one thing you understood, though, and it was written in thick, block letters next to ‘Cause of Death’.

Accidental. No sign of foul play. 

They’re not saving people. They’re killing them.

“Who?” you ask, searching the Supe's eyes. 

“All of them, Homelander, The Deep, Ashley Barrett, they're all‒”

“No,” you interrupt. “You said they're killing people. Who are they killing?”

Starlight pauses, gaze falling to her lap. She considers her next words carefully, unsure of just how much information is safe to give you. With a deep breath she returns your stare. 

“Anyone that stands in their way.”

You want to vomit. 

“Katherine Morgan,” you murmur, your voice cracking. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

Starlight tilts her had. “No. Was she—?”

“My mom,” you say. “She died last year. They said it was an accident, but the report… it came from Vought.”

The room stills. Even Butcher looks momentarily thrown.

You swallow, suddenly unsure of why you're sharing this with a room full of strangers and your childhood hero. But there was something here, something that confirmed a suspicion you'd never voiced before today.

“Holy shit,” Hughie breathes. He straightens, pushing off the washing machine. “That’s how they do it. Same thing happened to me, with Robin. They covered it up. Called it an accident.”

“So does that mean…?” Frenchie asks, staring at a stricken Hughie. 

“We don't know that for sure, we don't need to scare her more than we already have,” Starlight says, patting your leg over the blanket, but it provides no comfort. 

You turn to face Hughie. “Who’s Robin?”

Hughie’s face crumples, the pain raw even now. “My girlfriend. A-Train ran through her… Literally. Killed her. Vought made it disappear.”

If you weren't already sitting, you're certain you would have collapsed onto the floor. The pungent air feels thin and suffocating. 

“So you’re saying…” You swallow hard, your chest tightening. “You’re saying a Supe might’ve killed my mom?”

“It’s possible,” Starlight says, her voice gentle. “I’m sorry, but… it’s not out of the question.”

The weight of her words hits you like a punch to the gut. Your grip on the mug tightens as your world tilts on its axis. Before you can stop yourself, you’re on your feet, the room spinning around you.

“Whoa, easy,” Butcher says, catching you as your knees give out. He guides you back to the couch with surprising gentleness, his hands firm but steadying. He crouches before you, eyes fixed on yours. 

The man still fills you with fear, and his demeanor is frankly off-putting, but something about the gentle way he pulls the blanket back around you quiets the rageful beating of your heart. You tether your consciousness to the firm grip he holds on your shoulders, forcing your mind to steady. He gestures to Frenchie, ordering that he get you another cup of tea. 

You clutch the blanket tighter around yourself, staring down at the scuffed floor. “If I agree to help you,” you finally say, your voice shaky but determined, “will you help me find out what happened to my mom?”

Hughie and Starlight exchange a look, both nodding almost in unison.

Butcher tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “And what exactly are you offerin’ to do for us?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, meeting his gaze despite the fear prickling your skin. “But if it means taking down Vought, I’ll do whatever it takes. Just tell me what you need.”

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and he leans back, his hands resting on his knees.

“Alright boys, looks like we've got ourselves a bonafide mole here.”

[theambitiouswoman]

Capsule Wardrobe Essentials 🛍👚🎀👗

Wardrobe staples are important clothes that you can wear in many different ways. They are classic and versatile, and you can mix them with other fun clothes. These staple pieces are like the base of your wardrobe. You can use them with trendy or fancy clothes to make cool and useful outfits. They help you build a wardrobe that works well and looks good. So, you can make lots of different outfits and always have classic clothes to wear.

White Button-Up Shirt: A crisp white button-up shirt can be dressed up or down for various occasions.

Little Black Dress: Timeless piece suitable for formal events or casual outings.

Jeans: A well-fitting pair of jeans in a classic cut can be worn with almost anything.

Blazer: A tailored neutral blazer instantly adds sophistication and structure to any outfit.

Classic Trench Coat: A timeless outerwear piece that works well in various weather conditions.

Black Trousers: A pair of well tailored black pants can be a foundation for both professional and casual looks.

Neutral Sweater: A simple sweater in a neutral color is cozy and versatile for different outfits.

Classic Handbag: A quality handbag in a neutral shade adds a touch of elegance to any outfit.

White Sneakers: Comfortable and stylish, white sneakers can be worn with dresses, jeans, and more.

Black Ankle Boots: Versatile and stylish footwear that complements various outfits.

Pencil Skirt: A versatile piece that can be dressed up for work or paired with casual tops.

Crew Neck Sweater: A timeless and cozy sweater that works well with jeans or skirts.

Leather Jacket: Adds a touch of edge to any outfit and can be styled in various ways.

A-Line Dress: Flattering and suitable for both casual and semi-formal occasions.

Tailored Trousers: Classic pants that can be worn for business meetings or events.

Striped Breton Top: A chic and effortless piece that pairs well with jeans, skirts, or shorts.

Maxi Dress: Perfect for summer or special occasions, and can be dressed up or down.

Denim Jacket: A versatile layering piece that adds a casual touch to any outfit.

Structured Handbag: A classic bag that holds your essentials and complements different looks.

Ballet Flats: Comfortable and stylish shoes suitable for various outfits.

Denim Shorts: A casual option perfect for warmer months and can be paired with various tops.

Midi Skirt: A versatile length that works well for both casual and more formal occasions.

Black Leather Belt: Adds a finishing touch to many outfits and cinches in dresses and blazers.

Slingback Heels: Elegant and versatile shoes suitable for both office wear and events.

[novankenn]

He's a ... THE Super-Model!?!

Pyrrha and Weiss were sitting cat-walk side both looking rather bored as female and male models strutted about before them showing off the most recent "advances" in couture fashion, amid the barrage of camera flashes and polite clapping.

Pyrrha: (whispering) Remind me why we're here?

Weiss: (whispering) Our publicists decided we needed to be seen, so they chose this gala.

Pyrrha: (whispering) This is BORING. I would have preferred stayed in the dorms with Jaune...

Weiss: (whispering) Why didn't you? It's not like you HAD to be here.

Pyrrha: He had another "job" and I didn't feel like sitting around alone.

Weiss: Well thank you for being here. It's always more enjoyable to be at these types of events with a friend.

The room grew quiet, as the MC, dressed in a very fashionable black suit and tie stepped out onto the runway.

MC: Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending, and as a thank you we have arranged for a special showing of a single piece from the Adel Sensual Business Collection!

CLAPPING

Weiss: Adel? You don't think...

Pyrrha: Who else could it be?

A few moments later Coco Adel the second year huntress-in-training and Beacon's resident fashionista stepped onto the runway, with a mic in hand. Stepping off to the left side on a raised platform making the cat-walk completely unobscructed.

Coco: So... Adel Fashions has a SPECIAL treat to close out this little semi-private showing. Showing off our selection of our "Sensual Seduction Office Line"... the Enigma...

Coco: The one and only JA!!!

WILD CLAPPING and SHOUTS OF EXCITEMENT!!!

As the music continued to play, out from behind the curtain stepped a figure that was WELL KNOWN to Pyrrha and Weiss...

Pyrrha / Weiss: JAUNE!!!!

Jaune strode down the catwalk with perfect poise. HIs outfit definitely bordered upon the feminine side. Dressed in a purple-black Blazer over top of an off-white-cream blouse with such a deep plunging neckline that it showed off his navel, which was tucked in to a pair of curve clinging purple-black business casual pants, cynched about his waist with a pair of entwined off-white-cream belts. the whole ensemble ended with a pair of gleaming black heelless ballerina boots.

Weiss: How??? He trips over his own feet in sneakers!!!

Pyrrha: ...

Jaune's features where flawlessly accentuated with make-up, and his normally wild blond mop was heavily gelled and slicked backwards. Pyrrha 's heart slammed with in her chest and unable to resist, she rose from her chair...

Weiss: PYRRHA!!! NO!!!

Weiss in desperate act to prevent the Four Time Mistralian Champion from causing a scene, grabbed her by the pony tail and yanked her backwards...

Pyrrha: But... but...

Weiss: I get it! I do! I want to do it as well...

Pyrrha glared at Weiss.

Weiss: ... BUT we are NOT Blake and Deery!!!

Jaune continued his confident and inspiring stroll along the catwalk with effortless ease and perfect poise.

Weiss: (whimpering) I wish you'd be open to share...

Pyrrha: (hissing) You had your chance...

(Master Episode List)

[chrollosbm]

Sunflower Fields: a Choso Love Story Chapter Thirteen

art cr: umbra3terna on x

You're broken from a past relationship, thinking you only deserve the worst. Choso comes along, making you realize you deserve the world and more. Will your ex-boyfriend let you go without a fight? (Choso x black!reader, yandere Choso)

Previous Chapters

pls support me on ao3, it would mean the world to me

It was finally the day of your birthday and you just finished seeing your sisters off. You all cried as they left, even though you knew you would see each other again soon. Besides birthdays, holidays, and random sporadic times during the year, the three of you rarely ever got together anymore. Your younger sister was attending University a few hours away from you, and although your older sister lived slightly closer, her work schedule was chaotic, as she was a hairstylist in a highly-populated area, so she was usually busy. It wasn’t easy going from seeing them everyday as kids, to barely seeing them at all anymore, but sadly, this was the price of being an adult. 

You closed the door behind you with a sag of your shoulders, feeling strange at the sudden silence of your apartment. You forgot how loud they were and while the peace and quiet was welcomed, it felt slightly foreign after a weekend of chaos. Opal’s loud voice was still ringing in your ears, and Valerie’s thunder-like voice amplifying, telling her to shut up was ingrained in your brain.

You knew the silence wouldn’t last too long, with your pre-established day full of plans with Choso. Your stomach fluttered and spirits lifted almost immediately at the thought of it, even though you had just seen him the night before. It was weird, it was like the more you saw the man, the more upset you were to leave him once the day was over. Anyway, you had absolutely no idea what you were doing once again, but as always, you were open to embracing every surprise thrown your way. The only thing you were told to do today was dress casual and cute, so with a fast beating chest, you traveled to your bathroom to get ready. 

You took longer than usual to get ready for a casual day, with you deciding to settle on a soft beat rather than your usual simplified makeup look, and your hair in the leftover curls your sister styled for you just the day before. Your outfit was simple though, deciding on jeans and a plain sweatshirt, thanks to the cool weather. 

Your insides began twisting in anticipation of today’s events as the time for Choso to arrive approached, and with a smile on your face, you looked at the clock just as you heard a knock on your door. You practically skipped to the front door, not forgetting your small arm purse and sneakers before leaving your bedroom. 

You were blessed with the sight of the beautiful man treating you for the day as you opened the front door with a beaming grin, with him sporting one that could have rivaled yours. Your heart was jumping as you took him in, his dark hair blowing in the cool air, crinkled eyes and red cheeks that were most likely from the chill.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Choso’s deep voice snapped you from the obvious examination you were doing on him, and your cheeks began to hurt from both the huge smile you continued to wear, and the heat rising to your face. “Happy birthday.” He finished as his eyes were raking you up and down again, his pupils seeming to get larger with each second he took you in.

“Thank you baby!” You let out excitedly, before locking your door, soon after being enveloped in a gentle hug from the large man before you, the soft fabric of his dark sweatshirt touching your cheek as his warm body touched yours. You always felt safe in his arms, feeling at home where you belonged, in his secure, tender embrace.

You were led to Choso’s still running car in a comfortable silence, with him making sure you were secure in your seatbelt as he clipped you in, stopping mere inches before your face after he finished, a doughy look in his eyes, his delightful scent entering your nostrils. “You look stunning as always, baby. I can’t wait to show the world how beautiful my girlfriend is.” A small, closed lipped smile was on his features now, and you returned it with no problem, yours with teeth, your heart doing that familiar pitter-patter it always seemed to perform around him. He sealed his promise with a soft and quick peck to your lips, his mouth warming your cool, lip gloss covered ones, before leaning up to shut the passenger seat door. 

When he entered the warm vehicle, he was still smiling, this time with a mischievous look in those dark orbs, causing you to squint yours at him, knowing he was up to something. 

“What’s that look for?” You raised your brow and he seemed unphased, still keeping his same expression.

A smirk replaced his grin, looking more delinquent with the substitution. “You have to promise me one thing before we leave.” He put his seatbelt on before placing a large, warm hand on your thigh, the action causing a small hitch in your breath and you mentally rolled your eyes. Why must everything he do fluster you so much? 

“Okay…” You started, trying to act like the simple action of him placing a body part on you wasn’t causing your insides to play hopscotch. You folded your arms over your chest and gave him a challenging smirk. “What exactly does this promise entail?” You cocked your head to the side as you finished.

“Today is your birthday, meaning this is the one day I get to spoil you with no complaints. Understood?” His hand gave your thigh a quick squeeze at that, and you felt your face change into a small frown. You wanted to protest, wanted to tell him he had already done more than enough, with him paying for all your beauty and car maintenance, but before the words could leave your mouth, he spoke with enough authority to command an entire army. 

“Understood?”

The lasers he was burning into your eyes mesmerized you, forcing you to agree with an affirmative nod. He smiled approvingly at that, dark orbs turning brighter somehow as he grabbed your hand from across the dashboard to give it a small, innocent kiss, before the two of you pulled out your driveway, onto your day of unknown events. 

—

When Choso made you promise for him to have full reign on spoiling you for the day, you didn’t know he meant to this extent. 

You were currently at your third shop, a makeup store, where he was holding a basket full of makeup and skincare products he was practically forcing you to get. Well, not really, his compulsion wore off and became acceptance at the second shop, your favorite clothing boutique where you were beaming at almost everything you laid eyes on. The first shop on the strip you went to was extremely overpriced, and although you liked some of the pieces sold there, you simply did not feel comfortable spending money there, even if it wasn’t you paying for it to begin with. 

Choso seemed to notice your hesitation, and instead opted on kindly asking you where you shopped the most, still having the utmost patience for you almost breaking the agreement the two of you had, hence why you felt better shopping in places with a more acceptable range.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like being pampered, especially by Choso, but it was foreign to you. You didn’t grow up with much as a child, so suddenly going from having almost nothing, to someone wanting to provide everything for you was strange. Pulling out a calculator as you shopped was something you had been accustomed to, so going from that to not having to look at the price tag was something you had to get used to if you were going to be with the man who insisted on “giving you the world,” as he claimed. You wanted nothing more than to have all your troubles erased, and you figured you would let him do so in time, but right now you just needed to focus on familiarizing yourself with impromptu shopping trips hosted by Choso.

“What even is this?” Choso’s eyes were narrowed at the eye cream you’d just handed him, him attempting to read the back of the box before you giggled at his genuine confusion.

“It’s for your eyes, it helps with puffiness, and dark circles.” You reached up to softly touch his tired under eyes with your fingers, before a playful pout reached your features. “We can use it together, your eyebags need some work, babe.” 

He raised an eyebrow before he let out a small chuckle, and a playful “ouch,” at your deduction, rolling his eyes shortly afterwards after you dropped your hand back down loosely. “Will it… burn?” He asked, eyes suddenly reading fear.

You tried not to laugh, but failed miserably, unable to hold it in at his adorable inquisition. In opposition to his intelligence and extreme awareness, he could be so hilariously clueless at times. You watched as his pale cheeks turned rosy, and after your fit of giggles subsided, you reassured him. “No, Cho’, it doesn’t burn. It just stimulates the blood flow underneath your eyes.”

He responded with a curt nod, obviously not wanting to embarrass himself further, before dropping it in the basket, and letting you continue your haul.

After a couple more hours of shopping and too many bags that Choso insisted on carrying, not wanting you to lift one manicured finger, your boyfriend let you know you had one more stop before heading back to his place, but not before picking up takeout beforehand. He had planned for the two of you to go out to dinner, but seemingly noticed your apprehension when he informed you of the idea, so the two of you compromised on just ordering to go from your favorite Indian food restaurant. 

The two of you pulled up to a small jewelry shop not too far from your previous stop on the strip and you snapped your head to his, brows furrowed. You had never mentioned wanting to go to a jewelry store, so what exactly were the two of you doing here? 

He spoke quickly, seeming to notice your uncertainty about the situation. “This is the last surprise, baby. I promise.” He lifted a hand carrying multiple shopping bags and placed it over his heart, locking in his oath to you. You simply blinked at his stature before responding with a  nod of your head, secretly excited. You loved jewelry, you had a collection of necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings, nothing too expensive of course. Nonetheless, it was a guilty pleasure of yours.

Choso’s spirits seemed to lift at your compliance, before struggling to open the door of the shop for you, causing you to let out a groan at his stubbornness to let you do anything at all today. Even with no free hands to open any doors, he was adamant on not letting you touch a single one, the entire day. He would give you the biggest death glare if you even reached your hand out for a handle, so you had given up.

After letting him struggle before you to let you in the shop, you stepped inside with a small snicker underneath your breath at his determination. You had to admit, it was incredibly chivalrous the way he was treating you, struggling to do something as small as opening a door just so he could be the perfect gentleman. 

The bright lights of the vacant jewelry shop hit your eyes, causing you to squint and scrunch your face up at the fluorescent bulbs and white walls, the combination giving you a headache. 

“We won’t be long.” Choso gave you a small knowing smile with his reassurance, before heading to the front counter, with you trailing behind him like a lost puppy. 

He was currently speaking to the small, elderly woman behind the counter as you looked at the jewels before you, distracted by the shiny selection below you in the clear glass cabinet. There were all different kinds, studded chains with real diamonds, bright gold bracelets, rings with all different gems, all of it so extravagant and so expensive. You felt so out of place here, afraid to even touch the glass below you as it could cost more than anything you’d ever owned.

You were still looking through the selection of jewelry when you ended up at the ring section. They were all so beautiful, especially the one your eyes were currently fixated on. The ring itself was gold, with an oversized pear shaped diamond in the middle. You didn’t even want to know how much it cost, so much so that you were purposely averting your eyes from the price tag below, choosing to focus on the way the diamond danced in the light.

You couldn’t help when your mind drifted off to a land of fairytale, one where you were walking down the aisle, dressed in all white with a long veil and even longer train traveling behind you. You imagined yourself being fed white wedding cake, laughing when you smashed said dessert on your newlywed husband’s face, all teeth showing as he chuckled with you. It wasn’t hard to imagine that said husband to be would be Choso, the man at the end of the aisle waiting for you with his emotions written all over his face, that white frosting covering his abnormally beautiful birthmark.

Your cheeks were burning just when Choso’s deep, yet soft voice startled you, snapping you out of your daydream. “Hm, that’s pretty.” He commented casually of the ring you were just staring at, his eyes unreadable and fixated on the overpriced jewelry as you looked up at him. His eyes soon met yours with a smile in them, before continuing. “You ready for your final gift?” He changed the subject and you were grateful he did so, afraid of your own thoughts at the moment.

You responded with a large smile and a nod, as you looked up at him, his body moving as he shifted from foot to foot, his bottom lip caught in his lip, chewing softly. He let out a small breath before placing your bags down on the floor, a medium black, suede box remaining in his fidgeting hands. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

You obeyed him mindlessly, heart racing in your chest, not sure what to expect. It was obviously jewelry, but what? It wasn’t a ring, right? It’s entirely too soon for that. You almost scoffed at your thoughts, as if you weren’t just thinking of your potential wedding day with Choso, less than 24 hours after he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Your mind was interrupted when a cold metal touched your neck and chest, causing a shiver to run down your body at the surprise. A necklace. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you were afraid Choso felt it with how close he was to your body, with you feeling his warmth and presence behind you.

“Okay.” He said shortly after placing the jewelry on your body and guiding you a few steps over by your waist, settling his arms around you. “Open them.” His gravelly voice was in your ear now, mouth next to your temple, goosebumps erupting from your body from both his touch and being startled by his soft voice in your ear. 

Your eyes fluttered open to a mirror directly in front of you, and your eyes averted to the beautiful necklace around your neckline. The chain itself was gold, the color of jewelry you wore the most, which suited you the best, and at the end of it was a bright, shining sunflower, encrusted in gold, with tiny dancing diamonds circling each petal. It was stunning, worn on your skin like it belonged there, something you never wanted to take off. 

Your jaw was slack, the gift rendering you absolutely speechless, as liquid pooled your eyes. “Baby…” You started but was unable to finish, still gobsmacked at what was around your neck. You were actively trying to stop yourself from sobbing at the incredible gesture, completely awestruck that Choso would think you’d deserve something as beautiful and thoughtful. Your lip quivering as your cloudy eyes were still staring intensely at the piece of jewelry, before you noticed Choso’s tense stature in the background.

You saw him rub the back of his neck through the mirror, his eyebrows furrowed at your reaction. “Do you like it?” He asked softly, and you almost laughed, before turning towards him, placing your lips on his, tears spilling from your eyes, as you gripped the back of his head, pulling him closer, wanting him to feel your gratitude through your kiss. His arms found themselves around your body again, wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“This is the most thoughtful, beautiful thing anyone has ever gotten me, Choso.” You spoke truthfully, voice cracking towards the end of your sentence as you pulled away from his lips slightly. “I love it, thank you.” You look at him through teary eyes as relief filled his, his smile returning before he dabbed your tears away, careful not to smear your makeup. 

His lips were placed on your forehead shortly after, leaving soft, peppered kisses on the top of your head, his hands on the sides of your dome and you giggled at his lips assaulting your face in the middle of the empty shop, glad the attendant left ages ago to give you two privacy in this intimate moment. Day one of being his girlfriend and he was even more mushy than before, and God, you loved it.

“Anywhere else you want to go, sunflower?” Choso tilted your head to look up at his chocolate eyes, pupils seeming ten times bigger as he peaked at your smiling, heated face. 

You shook your head, completely content with ending your shopping spree with the beautiful piece of jewelry that now laid on your neck. Your stomach growled loudly, signaling you needed to be fed and the man before you laughed, before letting you go to grab the bags off the floor. 

“Let’s pick up some food and go home. Okay?”

—

The Weeknd was playing softly in the background as you laid on the comforter of Choso’s bed, legs tangled together, his fingers stroking your back in that soothing way you loved so much. The dim lights of his bedroom created an orange hue on the walls, the bare whiteness completely casted away, creating a more comfortable atmosphere.

The two of you’d just woken from a food coma nap after stuffing yourselves with way too much grub, your eyes overestimating your stomachs. 

You yawned softly, before looking up at Choso who was already staring down at you with a close lipped smile on his face. His pink lips were glistening in the low illumination, cheeks pale, and dark, low eyes looking straight into yours. There was a stir in your stomach as your eyes raked over him, suddenly feeling that heat in your core and you cursed yourself for waking up horny. You couldn’t help it though, it was Choso. The man was sexy without trying, even with strands of his hair sticking up from bedhead, and to be completely honest, he was even more gorgeous like this, completely raw and dazed. 

“Fuck,” His sudden vocalization made you jump slightly, not expecting him to speak. “Stop looking at me like that with those pretty eyes. Not unless you want me fuck your brains out.”

His completely serious words stunned you, your eyes widening as he finished speaking, before you let out a giggle, wanting to tease him, needing to make it very obvious that that was exactly what you wanted. It was your birthday after all, and the two of you were already extremely sexually active. So sexually active that you’d just had an appointment at the gynecologist so you could be put on birth control a few days ago, as Choso was absolutely opposed to pulling out or wearing a condom with you. 

Your body shot up, suddenly filled with energy at the challenge, before going to sit on top of the dark haired man, legs on either side of his body, sitting directly on his crotch. Choso’s breath hitched, and you felt him harden from under you almost immediately after your ass hit his groin, earning an eyebrow raise from you. “Already?” You teased, cocking your head to look down at him, purposely fluttering your lashes, pulling your bottom lip in your teeth, this being your attempt at trying to excite him. “I didn’t even do anything.” You finished before rocking your hips softly, causing friction to both of your lower halves, an effort to tease the now groaning man below you, whose hands attached to your hips almost immediately, your goal obviously being reached.

He tilted his head back on the pillow, eyes facing the ceiling as you had his cock’s full attention now, with it feeling like a brick underneath your ass, causing a small gasp to leave your lips, your body shuddering with anticipation of what was to come. You had to keep it together though, as you wanted to take things in a different direction than usual tonight.

“No.” Your short sentence came out forcefully as you gripped his chin roughly to face you, the stubble of his cleanly shaven jaw prickling your soft hands. “Your eyes need to be on me the entire time.” You mocked his own strict guidelines, placing your free hand underneath his top, dragging your acrylic nails on the warm skin of his hard abdomen. You felt him stiffen underneath you as his orbs seemed to grow twice in size, you having his full attention now. 

He seemed to follow your orders without argument, only a small hiss as your fingers continued drawing circles underneath the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t ignore the heat traveling through your body from his almost too easy submission, but you kept it together, with your smile sweet at his acceptance, before letting out a “good boy.” 

Those two words seemed to light a fire in Choso, causing his dark orbs to somehow become endless black holes, all while his grip on your hips tightened, and you could’ve sworn you felt him stiffen impossibly harder against you, so hard you were afraid he was in pain through the constriction of his jeans. You smiled mischievously, now knowing a weakness of his. Who would’ve thought bossy, commanding Choso would enjoy the opposite side so much? You wanted nothing more than to toy with him, to see how far you could go, to be in charge for the night, all while having the ability to get off on this as well, as the pool of wetness in your underwear was growing by the second. 

You sighed, wanting to rid of the piece of clothing currently blocking the view of the magnificent body underneath of you that was yours. So, you pulled the end of his top up, and Choso seemed to get the idea, with him lifting his body to take off the sweatshirt. You were faced with that familiar, sexy, ink covered torso, and the silver, shiny chain you loved on him so much, before you attached your lips to his, wanting to taste your incredibly handsome boyfriend. Your hands instantly went to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft locks as his strong arms wrapped around your stature, holding you so close he could’ve fused the two of you together. Your tongue found his, and you controlled the kiss, messily and wet as your crotch grinded on his again, causing Choso to bite your bottom lip as he let out a sound resembling a low growl.

While you were enjoying teasing the man below you, the desire you felt was becoming unbearable, being used to Choso doing the pleasing and you being a rightful pillow princess. It was harder than it looked, being the dominant one, but you had an idea that would help the both of you out, one that you were sure the whimpering man below you wouldn’t be opposed to. 

Your lips detached themselves from Choso’s with a suckle sound, before looking up at him with doughy, innocent-feigned eyes. “You wanna try something new tonight, baby?” You asked with sweet sugar in your voice, the tone seemingly hypnotizing the man. He nodded quickly, apparently mesmerized by you, with lit eyes and red hot cheeks, as you stood from the bed shortly afterwards at his response, removing your clothes easily in one go, which prompted him to do the same, mocking your movements. 

You waited until Choso was laid on his back again as he tried to hide his heavy panting, and failing miserably. A shiver went down your back as you took him in, quiet and obedient, waiting for your next order. Was this what it felt like for him? If so, you needed to make this happen a couple times more, as you were already having too much fun with him at your mercy. You loved being dominated by Choso, in fact, you preferred it, but this current experiment was thrilling. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts shortly after as heat stirred in you and your pussy pulsated from inside, obviously missing her lawful counterpart that was Choso himself, and you climbed back on his chiseled body, facing backwards this time, so his erect pale cock was directly in your face. The pink tip was glistened from a large amount of precum and his shiny piercing, the sight of his clear, sticky pre dripping from the head causing you to let out an involuntary moan. You’d wanted to taste him so badly from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, but he never let you due to the fact that he always made you the receiver rather than the giver. You were excited he was allowing you to do so now, even if this wouldn’t be a regular occurrence. 

Choso let out a sound as well as your pussy faced his face, with him gripping your hips from behind almost immediately when you were settled on top of him, his arms below your tummy, hugging your pelvis, before yanking you back and placing you directly on his mouth, seemingly incapable of waiting any longer to taste your already dripping cunt. You yelped in surprise at his eagerness, with your emotion soon being overtaken by the electric shockwaves going up your body as his tongue immediately attached to your clit, him going to work messily, kissing and sucking at you noisily.  

You barely remembered you were supposed to be pleasuring him too, with the distraction of his dirty mouth attacking your pussy, causing you to rock your lower half on his face, making it feel all the better with your vision blurring on the sides of your eyes, losing all sense of time and reality. You felt like you were in your very own amusement park, with Choso’s pretty, perfect face as your favorite water ride.

You were snapped out your brain fog soon after, legs almost giving out as you were still dealing with the diversion of Choso now groaning loudly into your cunt, using his tongue to fuck your opening now, before you leaned down, finally giving his throbbing, fully stood cock attention. You started by placing your tongue on his now red head, feeling that cool piercing on your tongue and the two of you moaned out together, the taste of him being just as you imagined. He tasted slightly salty, the flavor not strong at all, with that metallic taste of his piercing making it all the better. 

It didn’t take you too long before you took him fully in your mouth, not before covering his cock entirely in your saliva, only reaching halfway down his shaft before he reached the back of your throat. You felt Choso’s hips twitch slightly, earning another moan from him, his tongue now abusing your button rougher than before, seemingly making this a competition of who could give the best head to the other person. He was clearly winning at this point, with you completely distracted and off your game as your body mimicked his twitch, feeling that familiar build up in your lower stomach, knowing you weren’t too far from your peak. You began bobbing your head up and down his length, incorporating your hands into your movements, finally back in the competition again, with a noise of approval from the man currently bringing tears to your eyes. The feeling of  saliva rushed out your mouth at a speedy rate, making it easier to move your lips in that repeated motion.

Something about this position was making you feel hot all over, having Choso in your clutches all while he gave you the tongue-down of a lifetime, the man so into it that you were sure his entire face had to be covered in your warm juices and his own spit. It was stirring your insides so much that you were feeling your high approach quicker than ever, and you were ready to welcome it with open arms, with your breathing becoming more intense on the large cock in your mouth. Choso seemed to enjoy it, you could tell from the way his large thighs were tensing in front of you, with your wet lips tighter around him as you got closer to release. 

Choso’s arms were tight around your thighs, one of his hands pressing down on your lower stomach as he seemed to be on a mission now, his tongue going in a fast flick motion on your bundle of nerves, making you cry out on his cock, losing concentration completely as you felt time stand still, and waves of pleasure washed over your body, your body involuntarily rubbing your pussy on the lower half of his face, riding out your orgasm with tears wetting your face and ringing in your ears.

You wanted to keep going, but Choso’s distressed voice stopped you. “Baby.” There was a sense of urgency and need you had never heard from him before. It was more like a whine, and you swore you were going to cum again if he continued speaking to you in that way. “Please let me fuck you, I wanna-I need to cum in you so bad.” He was practically begging at this point, his stuttering voice slightly higher-pitched and you decided to give in before you released a waterfall on his face this time.

His cock was removed from your mouth with a loud plop, a string of saliva following your aching mouth as his member left you. Choso wasted no time before manhandling you to turn so you were facing him, placing your bare cunt on his abs, with you having to balance yourself by your hands on his tattooed chest. Your head still felt heavy from your recent orgasm as you looked down at the beautiful man below you, the bottom half of his face shining with your wet slick, smoky irises low and heavy as he took you in with a heavy breath. Your insides swirled with lewdness, a shiver going down your back from his dark stare, almost forcing you back into submission.

You were brought back to your senses, remembering you were the one making the decisions tonight, regardless of how much his pleading aroused you. So, you settled with a small, convincing smirk, going back to drawing small circles on his hard chest with your pointer finger, making sure your acrylic nail was barely touching him, just enough to cause the goosebumps currently forming on his body. “You wanna fuck me?” You let out, lightly, a small pout on your face, causing the man below you to take in a breath, his dark eyes widening, piercing into your soul.

“Please.” His voice came out strained, and you let out a soft, teasing giggle, scooting your ass backwards slowly, now feeling the wet stubble of his groin area on your lower half. His hands grabbed your ass, and he attempted to lift you, before you smacked his hands away with a squint of your eyes, with him dropping you back down with a deep and long groan. 

“Did I give you permission, yet?” Your eyes were in slits, pretending to be angry at the man currently causing your arousal to leak out of you, some of it that was now running down his thigh slowly. You were unbelievably turned on at the moment, with the small hairs on your arm standing straight up, wanting him to do nothing more than to take off inside you like a rocket ship, but you wanted to hear him beg. Just a little more. 

Choso’s face was twisted into a frown when you lifted your body ever so slowly to rest your opening on top of him, feeling his cool jewelry and wet precum on your wet hole, your bodies feeling like magnets with the way you felt an imaginary pull to rest on his aching cock already. You looked back at the man with low eyes, who was basically squirming underneath you, sweat beads on the sides of his head, mouth agape as his eyes were fixated on your leaking cunt. 

“Please, angel, I’ll make you feel so fucking good I promise.” He was panting now, calling you a nickname that was almost funny, as you were being anything but that at the moment. Him begging and writhing under you, face scrunched up and red in distress, whining in incomplete sentences of “please let me fuck you,” “you know how good I make you feel,” “let me fill you up already,” was the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced and it was driving you absolutely mad,with your walls constricting against nothing, almost cumming at the sight below you. His hands were placed on your hips now and his bottom half was lifting ever so slightly, before you gave a small nod and a simple, “okay,” at last giving him permission to finally do as he pleased.

It was only a split second before his tip was at the ceiling of your cunt, hitting your cervix and making you see sparkles in the air. Loud moans filled the room almost immediately, your voices bouncing off the wall creating a loud echo throughout the house and you were glad Yuji wasn’t home, for it would be impossible for you keep your voice down with the way he was fucking the brain cells out of your head. He was ramming into you like it was his dying wish to fuck you one last time, his thrusts rough and relentless, never once missing your g-spot.

His dark, piercing eyes never left yours, the fire in them creating an intense atmosphere, making this moment between the two of you all the more intimate and passionate. Your eyes were welling with tears, and you weren’t sure if it was from him hitting that gummy spot easily with each rut inside you, or the intensity and emotion filling the air, maybe it was both. He seemed to feel it too, as he used one of his hands to interlock with yours, with a smile only reaching his eyes, as he seemed unable to close his mouth from the pleasure of your pussy. Suddenly, the arm around your waist lifted you higher and placed you down on his oversized cock with more force, making you almost scream in euphoria. Shivers were down your entire body now, like someone opened a window with every time he bottomed out inside you, and you could barely keep your eyes open now, your neck losing control with your head falling backwards.

Your cries filled the room as he didn’t let up, when you remembered again that you were in charge tonight, no matter how emotional you were getting. Your lip was in your teeth when you looked back down at the man who looked fucking high, his eyes halfway closed as he stared at you with his mouth halfway open, a small amount of drool trailing out the side of his mouth as he kept impaling you, with his hand holding yours digging into the skin of your palm almost painfully.

“Cho, b-baby,” You let out a whine just as his tip kissed your cervix again, causing the walls of your pussy to tighten on him with a shake of your body, making Choso groan out loudly, like a war-call. “Slow down. Let me do the work.” You panted out and he seemed to either ignore you or was too dazed to understand a word coming out your mouth, being that his cock continued to mutilate your insides, you feeling him pulsate inside you with each buckle of his hips.

“Choso!” You yelled out loudly this time and he seemed to register your words as he slowed his thrusts, not quite stopping, still hitting that gummy spot inside you before he spoke with a pant.

“What’s wrong?” His brows were furrowed with squinted eyes, grip on your smaller hand loosening, as he finally realized how hard he was squeezing you.

You were still breathing heavily as he continued to move his hips, words coming out in whines, obviously not able to sound as serious as you wanted. “I said…let me ride you.” You tried to stand firm on your words, you really did, but the way he was abusing that spot deep inside you was far too much, with that rumble feeling inside you knocking on your doors again, another round of pleasure wanting to be released.

Choso smirked at you, appearing to know he had you now, a devious look in his half-lidded eyes before sitting up slightly, using his flexed arm to hold you as he moved, with his cock going even deeper inside you with the movement. You gasped slightly as his dick was now standing erect inside you, on your pressure point with neither of you moving, making your mind hazy as ever.

You moved up slightly before his hands on your hips slammed you back down forcefully, causing a shout and dizziness to come from you, you now imagining yourself resembling a cartoon character with stars dancing around your head. “Stay right here.” His lips were close to your ear, voice rumbling in his chest as he caught his breath.

You whined with a pout, your pussy quivering and pulsating on him and he sucked in a breath at the action. You tried to speak, to protest saying you were the boss tonight, but his thumb attached to your clit before you could do so, and he began rubbing quick circles as a string of saliva dropped from his mouth directly onto your pink button. The squelch from his ministrations was loud in the room, and you were trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders as weeps erupted from you. There was a feeling of air being taken from your lungs, as his eyes burned into yours, keeping that overwhelming feeling in the atmosphere again, this time with tears overflowing and spilling onto your cheeks. The air was brought back to your body as you felt your release come out of you, the feeling of a small bomb erupting inside you as you rode out your high with a loud sob.

You were still riding out one of the most intense orgasms of your life, with your pussy clenching onto Choso for dear life, when the grip on your hip and palm almost became too tight, his almost nonexistent nails digging into your skin as he groaned out, his dark eyes focused on you as you felt him spill his hot seed into you, without you having to move a muscle on top of him, and it was the hottest thing ever.

The two of you were panting heavily, staring at each other with half lidded eyes, exhaustion covering your features, before Choso gave you a small smile, before giving you a fat, wet kiss to your inviting mouth. He pulled away shortly after, and you rested your head on his chest, with him still inside of you, the two of you connected together like puzzle pieces. 

“Let me run us a bath.” Choso suddenly let out with a rub to your back and you simply nodded, before you felt him lift you from his now soft cock with a wince from both of you, a small amount of the sticky strings of his cum coming out of you, before he placed your naked body on the bed, soon retreating to his in-suite bathroom, you hearing the bathwater turn on shortly afterwards.

You were resting your eyes, trying not to fall asleep when a few minutes passed and you were suddenly lifted up from the bed, causing a small squeal of surprise to leave you. Your eyes opened to see Choso, staring down at you adoringly, holding you so tightly, like he was scared you would run from his embrace. Never in a million years. 

You let him take care of you for the rest of the night, with you letting him wash your body, massage your now aching muscles, even letting him dress you in his clothes like a little doll. He seemed smug about it as he was doing it, seeming excited you were finally coming around to letting him take care of you.

[daman19942]

*Deep breaths* I shared three four outfits for the LBB shape for this months Garden of Shadows theme, Fashion is for Everyone / Unfinished Business. I've teased these in some gameplay pics, and they've been done for months, but I never uploaded them...until now! Link here, details under the cut!

LBB Athletic Tank w/ Lucilla Sneakers

This first outfit is the oldest and quite literally the reason I learned how to use Milkshape. I wanted an LBB athletic outfit with the Uni tank, gym shorts, and sneakers and damned if I didn't nearly lose my mind making it. But that's exactly what it is. The LBB uni tank comes from @julietoon-ts2 LBB Tank PJs, the shorts are from Godlimpingby's Christmas in July set, and the shoes are from this 4t2 pants conversion by @lucilla-sims. I could've mixed and matched colors all day, but you get these seven. Categorized for everyday and athletic and contain both fat(!) and preg(!!) morph - that's how you know how old these are, I hadn't learned my lesson yet.

Download: SFS

LBB Tank w/ Skinnies and WBP Sneakers

Next we've got another really old outfit - a casual outfit using the same tank, G-Knee's skinnies (which I got from Julie here), and these great sneakers converted by WeBluePeace. Six tank colors, the shoes are the same for each. Categorized as everyday, also contains fat and preg morph (this would be the last time).

Download: SFS

LBB Sleeveless Hoodies w/ Vans or Sneakers

Lastly, I'm combining two outfits because they are the exact same except for the sneakers. These are Fanseelamb's Playful Sleeveless Hoodies with Shorts with either GLB's sneakers OR  ImaginaryBoutique's 4t2 conversion of Darte's Vans Old Skool. Same recolors, I simply couldn't decide between the shoes so I made both. No morphs! Everyday and Athletic.

Download: SFS

Self aware moment: I know there is some texture repetition across these outfits, and truthfully I was very torn about even uploading these because some players may not like that (or maybe would prefer separates). But, 1). I originally made these for myself, 2). Separates for All is currently broken for me, so I'm using more full outfits again, 3). downloaders can pick and choose what they like and 4). if uploading the first functional mesh you ever made doesn't count as unfinished business, I don't know what does :)

Credits to lots of folks: Syn, JulieJ, Lucilla, GLB, WBP, Lifa (for meshing help), Fanseelamb, and ImaginaryBoutique. Everything is compressorized and clearly labelled in the folders, but let me know if you have any issues. Thanks!

(I forgot to add poly counts but i will do so tomorrow! The Vans are clearly the highest).

[door430]

Finally, after hours of designing and drawing and coloring, here is a full lineup of my humanoid designs of the AVA/AVM stick figures! Below the cut is just me rambling about each design.

victim: For victim, I wanted their design to be very business-esque to reflect both their position at Rocket Corp and their apparent preference for manipulation over violence. I gave them two gold necklaces and a gold belt to highlight their current high status in Rocket Corp. I chose yellow accents because of their intelligence and lack of fighting skill, which is similar in some ways to Yellow.

Chosen: I wanted to go for something a little more casual for Chosen, as I feel like they would want to settle down into a more normal life after the fiasco with Dark. The baby blue of their sweater also emphasizes their calm attitude. I put them in leggings to make their legs appear thinner, because Chosen is just an awkward baby deer with skinny little legs that can barely hold up their body to me.

Dark: The design of Dark's outfit is very much the stereotypical punk look. I also like the idea that Dark is shorter than everyone else but wears platform boots to appear taller. Their hair is a bit unkempt to give them a bit of a 'mad scientist' look, and the two curls on top look like devil horns as a reference to their evil nature.

Second: Since Second is the youngest of the sticks, I wanted to give them a somewhat childish look with the curly hair, striped shirt, shorts, and sneakers. They still have a collar though, as they seem to be the most sensible of the Color Gang. The green of the shoes is a reference to their powers in AVA 5 being green.

Red: Since Red loves animals and is the most childish, I wanted their outfit to be something plain and comfy that they could afford to get mud or fur on. Their hair is unkempt as a reference to their childish and impulsive nature.

Yellow: Yellow's design is pretty simple, as I just went for a nerdy/scholarly look. I debated over giving them glasses or goggles, but in the end I thought the glasses fit better with the rest of the design.

Green: I'm going to be entirely honest, Green's whole design is based on the 'Faces' short where they get an anime-style face. I thought a karate outfit would suit them, as karate is a very mobile martial art, and Green has a very mobile fighting style.

Blue: I designed Blue's outfit after a hippie fashion style because of their love for plants and friendship. If you look on their wrists and ankles, you'll see they have one friendship bracelet for each member of the Color Gang.

Purple: Purple's outfit is a mix of comfortable and easy to fight in. Their elytra are based on dragonfly wings because I thought it looked cool. I made their outfit similar to Mango's , as I feel like Mango's influence on them might also extend to their fashion.

Mango: I gave Mango a very royal look to match their crown and kingly manner. Their outfit is very flowy and probably not good for fighting in because of their tendency to make Purple do the hard work for them. Their cloak is blue to show their similarities to Purple's parent, and the lining is gold as a reference to their child, Gold. They have very little of their actual orange color in their design to show them slowly losing themself. The Galactic along the lining is a reference to their knowledge about Minecraft's more obscure mechanics and their use of 'magic' with the staff. Fun fact: it translates to 'no cost too great', because I like the way the phrase's meaning turns more sinister as Mango's plan goes on and they do worse and worse things in the name of avenging Gold.

[ninjagirlstar5]

Akane, beyond the grave: *steals her ex-friend's ultimate talent*

Jokes aside, the wheel chose Sora to be the Ultimate Merchant, so that's fun! Designing her outfit was interesting since I know Akane would take her role as a merchant seriously, but since Sora is (supposedly) an amnesiac, she would not have the memories that would influence her personality and decision-making, let alone her tastes in fashion. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I approached this design not by thinking on what Akane would wear, but rather what Sora would cobble together upon waking up the first time and what peaked her interest as an Ultimate Merchant.

In Sora's OG design, she was just wearing a regular school uniform, and in Teruya's designs, they were either a school uniform he personally designed himself, so he was doing self-promotion by physically wearing his own product, or just a regular suit underneath a very iconic coat with a hat, scarf and goggles which were all mementos of people he held dear. Both are good designs in their own right, although Sora's was definitely the simplest and perhaps uninteresting between the two of them. And considering that a part of being a merchant is making an impression on your customers and fellow businesspeople, Ultimate Merchant Sora can't look too simple to the point that she just blends in with a crowd. So I decided to go with an outfit that's similar in it's simplicity like her uniform but leaning a bit more towards a business-like vibe. So now she has a button-up, a shorter skirt, replaced her ascot with a tie, gave her a jacket to help her stick out more, and made her socks shorter along with some transparent tights underneath. While Akane is pretty professional in her design (when not in Despair), Sora comes off as someone who's much more casual in personality, hence why her button-up has it's collar popped open a bit and is untucked, her tie is a bit loose, and her original mary janes were replaced with sneakers. I also gave her skirt and jacket her matching criss-cross plaid pattern as not only was it an iconic part of her OG design, but I think Sora would choose this pattern to stand out thanks to her instinct as the Ultimate Merchant. Her hair went through some minor changes as I wanted to reference my Akane redesign's bang hairstyle a bit by giving Sora a similar style, just with a straighter style as Akane's hair is a bit more...floofier, to say the least. I also moved Sora's ponytail over her shoulder cause I wanted it to be more visible and as I mentioned in my Kiyoka redesign, making a low ponytail visible in a front-facing sprite like this one can get lost behind the body. I think it looks kinda nice like this. I stuck to her black, white, and red color palette and thus, we are done with Sora.

Next up is Kokoro!

Considering Sora is supposed to be Akane (but not really) in original canon, Sora's "backstory" might as well be her past up to the DRA events, but one that she had completely forgotten due to her amnesia. Since I mentioned not going with the Neo World Program setting for the killing game back in my Swap Talent Yoruko post, I'm gonna approach this as if Sora really was Akane and not just an algorithm put together to protect Yuki and attached to Akane's brain (or however this game described it on how Sora can be familiar with the DRA events but not know them).

Honestly, the most that would change from this is that Akane was supposed to die at the end of the DRA events but when her body inherited Divine Luck, she ended up surviving instead. But due to her injuries and being underwater for so long, even the Divine Luck couldn't keep her memories intact, so when she woke up in a hospital, she literally didn't know who she was and could only think of "Sora" as a name. So, unable to remember who she really is and the horrible things she's done, Sora kinda just...goes off to do her own thing as she searches for answers on who she is. In the process, she realizes that she has a distinct talent in business, and she uses them to buy and sell products to try and help others during the Tragedy. Which she's able to do very well...with a bit of luck. (I always considered that Divine Luck isn't the most active when the user isn't consciously aware that they have it. It's how DRA!Yuki had Divine Luck the whole time but people still died/bad things still happened because he just wasn't aware that he has a literal deus ex machina that is Divine Luck, and the only times it became active in his subconscious was when he was involved in a game reliant on luck or willed for a scenario so badly that it just happened, like with what happened with Kinjo in Chapter 5. Same with Sora in canon and it's basically the same here.) So Sora starts making headway with her reputation, with some people even calling her the "Ultimate Merchant" although she laughs it off since she doesn't have any papers to prove she was ever an Ultimate (she was). Mikado finds out about this, curiously looks into it since "Hey, wasn't there an Ultimate Merchant in the Proto-Killing Game?", and, after a lot of digging, he figures out that Sora is most likely Akane who managed to survive her fate from DRA, most likely due to her own luck. But of course, he never figured out that she has THE Divine Luck, he just assumed that either her Fortune pulled through for her or Utsuro blessed her a second time to save her life before dying. Either way, he needed an extra player since his class only had fourteen students, and who would be better than the accomplice to the mastermind herself? And oooh, how convenient, she also has amnesia so she can't blab about how strangely similar these events are in her previous killing game (although to say everything goes according to Mikado's plan would be a lie). So he snatches her up and does some convenient memory science alterations with the help of Void, more on that in future posts, to make her believe that this is her first time waking up and is a part of their class in this strange killing game when really, none of them had met her until now.

And to make matters worse, it's through this killing game that Sora finally starts to find out who she is and what her past was. And OH boy, would that hit her like a fucking truck to find out that she was a Despair and even got most of her real classmates and friends killed for the sake of her Master Utsuro. Since she has no memories of when she was Akane Taira, the dissonance between her past self and her current self is VERY strong and she's riddled with a huge sense of guilt and shame. Even to the very end, she never fully remembers her past, but she does take responsibility for her past actions even if she'll never forgive herself as Akane Taira.

[lesb0]

Any office wear brand suggestions? Ur outfits always look rly classy and I am starting a new job with a “business casual” dress code (no jeans or sneakers allowed). <3 hope your Tuesday is going well :)

thank u 💞 my secret is that I stopped buying fake materials a few years ago, I'm a banana and aritzia lady recently :)

[hollowdeath]

slytherin fashion

this is the final part of my hogwarts houses fashion posts! you can find the other houses on my masterlist

business casual

i feel like slytherins will take any chance they can to dress up, so their typical go-to look is business casual. think white collared button ups, vests, black suit jackets, and a necktie, of course. but slytherins are all about adding a little edge, so they try to tone down the professional elements with skirts, jeans, leather jackets, and a pair of headphones.

dark academia/alt

i mean, c'mon. who's doing the all black look better than slytherins? this is where a lot of our dark academia/alternative friends thrive. some like to keep it business casual still with simple silhouettes: long skirts, long jackets, turtlenecks/vests, and leather boots. others, however, go for a more casual look with shorter skirts, ripped stockings, graphic t-shirts, and tons of accessories like belts, rings, necklaces, and chains. all in black, of course.

shoes

slytherins are the house when it comes to their shoe game, and there's do debate. they take a lot of pride in their collections and keeping their favorites in good condition. it's like a bonding experience for them, talking about and showing off their shoes to each other. and, of course, they love to experiment with all kinds of styles: flats/ballet slippers, kitten heels, loafers, boots, and, above all, sneakers. even if their outfit isn't their favorite, they can always bet they have the best shoes in the room.

chaotic style

i've tried to find a name for this specific style but all i could find is bloquette (??) and uglycore (???) so i'm just gonna call it chaotic, because that's exactly how a slytherin would describe it. while some slytherins dress professionally, others prefer a more eccentric similar to their fellow ravenclaws. i'm thinking long patterned skirts, particularly plaid, along with boots or tennis shoes and tall socks, as well as random colorful jerseys.

ravenclaw | hufflepuff | gryffindor | masterlist

[youremyheaven]

any tips on how to start dressing better?

id loveee to dress with a more artsy, feminine style (for context i study arts, so visual arts, music, dance, theatre, but also business in the arts!) and i love love love your style like its literally how id dress daily if i could. i love style inspos like that but i don’t know how to maximise outfits with a few pieces, especially girly fits. i also love certain boyish/male-dominated sports and when i watch or attend the events id like to dress girly-ish? but also dress “right”, so shorts and stuff because its SO HOT but a lot of the places i work and study at are also rich people places so i also want to fit in and be taken seriously (i say this like i dont maximise my young and sweet girl persona to get around sometimes but still) 🫤🫤 i love your style because its so feminine and romantic and sweet and classy and timeless and i dress like that at times…. not always because i don’t know how to maximise my pieces but i thought you’d know best 😓😓

hope you have a lovely day ahead!

general tips on finding your style: (I won't say "dress better" bc that's very relative and can mean so many different things although I completely understand what u mean in your context)

start making pinterest boards

it helped me soooo much in understanding what i was drawn to and the recurring/repeating motifs that showed up in the outfits i was inspired by

you can make several diff boards for diff occasions like "outfits for class" or "outfits for parties" and each can have a diff vibe that suits your needs

when we think of personal style very broadly, we tend to be overwhelmed so browse through pinterest and look at outfits for inspo and you'll have a realistic idea of what you'd like to wear

2. understand your body and vibe/essence

this is where Kibbe and Kitchener theories help the most but i feel like most people nowadays use it to beat themselves up for being a certain Kibbe type or being delusional about the kind of essences they have etc

however, if you have a good grasp of Kibbe/Kitchener, it makes dressing up 10000x times simpler,, my personal style has improved SOOO much since i discovered Kibbe & Kitchener in 2021-2022,,,

3. build a "uniform" for yourself

if u look at my style moodboards, u can see how most of the outfits are kinda similar ish?? they're either slip dresses, sundresses, maxi skirts + tops, midi skirts + tops and generally adhere to a pink + green/blue palette (i call it my strawberry shortcake color scheme hehe)

once u find what u like + what flatters u , stick to it tbh. its faaaar easier to get dressed if you know exactly what you're going for. its 100% more convenient and people are going to associate you with that look/aesthetic and i think its important to have a strong personal "brand" if u want to be distinct and memorable.

its even better bc if you ever wear something slightly different, people are going to lose their minds lol when all u did was channel a different vibe. its like a 0 cost makeover effect.

i think its economical, efficient, memorable and overall wonderful to build a personal "uniform" and stick to it

i can wear those outfits (from my moodboard) to class, to brunch, to dates, to shop etc,, they're very flexible and aren't overly dressy or overly casual.

i only buy something if i feel like i can wear it everyday, obviously some pieces are more dressy and are for "special occasions" but generally, dont buy anything you cant see yourself wear every single day.

im not saying you SHOULD wear it everyday but that, that should be the intention. clothes are meant to be worn and used, not just look pretty on the hanger. so when you're in the trial room, ask yourself, will i feel comfortable and cute wearing this everyday for a week straight if need be?

you can build a uniform for diff occasions too!! so sporty events can mean pink camisole with lace trims and cut off shorts with baseball cap and strawberry print Vans sneakers or some variation of that

4. maximising your pieces!!! (finally answering THE question u asked but we already know that i need to yap a bit to get to the point lmao)

i am a mix and match girlie and i think thats just the most efficient and economical approach to fashion lmao

take out everything in your wardrobe and lay it all out on your bed and start trying on different pieces together and take full length mirror selfies

create a folder in your gallery for "outfit ideas" and save these pix to that folder 😉

you can thoroughly clean out your closet and critically evaluate everything you own and play dress up and have fun all at once!! when you play around with clothes you own, you'll come up with outfit combos you would have never dreamt of and having them stored in your handy folder will help u access them quickly in the future when u have somewhere to go and need some ideas!!!

it will also help you understand what you have too little of and what u have too much of

maybe u have 10 pairs of pants and 5 skirts and only 6 tops,, now u know what u should and shouldnt shop for in the future

id never encourage unnecessary shopping but if your budget allows for it,, u can buy some "core pieces" that will be foundational to your wardrobe

anything can be worn a million different ways, u just have to be creative

understanding how colours work together + how fabrics work together is very beneficial

if u have a baby pink tulip skirt, u can wear it with a white corset top (pink and white look amazing together) ,, you can wear it with a white satin button down shirt, a white lace trim tank top etc etc,, notice how all of these are different styles of top wear but they're all white which means you can also wear it with any other colour or piece in your wardrobe

for every "standout/statement" piece your purchase (ex: a skirt with heavy embroidery or patterns) you should have 3 or more "neutral" pieces that complement it. "neutral" pieces are the ones that work with everything or most things in your wardrobe.

if you love monochrome, then u do u but otherwise id say buy pieces in colours you dont already have,,, u dont have to buy colours u hate but having pops of colour in your wardrobe also helps maximise outfits bc it looks like u have made more of an effort than u have.

many people hesitate to "wear" colour bc they think it looks loud or that it doesnt have repeat value or whatever but thats not true!! u can wear the same colourful piece thrice a week and style it completely differently and no one will notice

accessories ARE KEYYYY,, u can dress up or dress down a look with them. build a little collection of your staples, like jewellery u can wear everyday and not take off?? have a handful of essentials that u can rely on to spice up outfits. a pair of gold hoops, a pair of dangly earrings, a cute pendant, another cute pendant u can switch it up with, a few rings or bracelets, a watch etc u dont have to buy a lot or have a lot, u just have to be smart!!

same goes for shoes and bags,, have 2-3 in rotation that works with majority of your wardrobe,, nobody needs 10 pairs of shoes or bags tbh ,, dont hesitate to repeat things, it'll just be your "signature" look and who doesnt want a signature look?? 💅🏻😌😌

also since u mentioned u dont know how to maximise girly fits with a few pieces, I GOTCHU

its more efficient to invest in skirts and tops than dresses if u are on a budget bc a dress is an outfit in itself and u cant repeat it too often (u can get vvv creative with the styling tho ngl but thats for later)

im going to give you a very simple idea (?? ish?)

this is a very basic white tank top. it looks cuter and "feminine" bc it has lace trims. what makes an outfit feel more girly is often little details like this. so instead of wearing a basic tank top, pick something that is a bit frilly.

u can easily create an infinite number of outfits with this one piece

(i know they're not all wearing the same identical tank top but im just showing u the diff possibilities)

this is a pink satin skirt styled 3 ways:

u only really need a few pieces tbh and the rest is just wearing them in different wayyyyss

idk how helpful this was but ur so sweet 🥺🥺and im so happy u like my style hehe<333

hope u have a lovely day/night and i hope u have a lot of fun with fashion too <33

edit: also just take ur time, u don't have to fix everything overnight and spend money u don't have to buy things that aren't strictly necessary. this is a long term project and it may take months or years to have a solid capsule wardrobe full of pieces you can style and wear in interesting ways

[e-dubbc11]

Out of Left Field Pt. 2

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, mention of Billy’s past.

Word Count: 3.2K-ish

Summary: Continued from Part One. You can read the first part HERE Your first date with Billy is unexpected but in a good way.

A/N: My lovely @jvanilly had asked if I could expand from part one and it took awhile to come up with an idea but I am really pleased with the way it turned out. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“So where did he say he was taking you?” Jackie asked, leaning across the table with a wide smile on her face.

You met her out for coffee that morning before your first date with Billy.

The last place you expected to meet someone AND be asked out on a date was at a baseball game but here you were, talking to your friend about your upcoming date.

Billy was extremely handsome, charming, ran his own business, and he had saved you from a very uncomfortable situation involving a very drunk fan.

“He didn’t say, Jackie. All he said was wear casual clothes and sneakers.” You said while nervously picking at the sticker on your coffee cup.

Of course, Jackie knew how nervous you were. She swatted your hand to keep you from picking at the sticker.

“Will you stop fidgeting! You’re gonna have fun; he is gorgeous and you could tell how smitten he was with you from a mile away.” She said.

“You think so?” You asked.

Jackie was comic relief is most situations but she was very serious when she replied, “I know so, sweetie. He barely took his eyes off of you for the rest of the game. And the way he leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek? He had me blushing! What are you gonna wear?”

Raising your eyebrows, you threw your hands up and shrugged your shoulders.

“I dunno…thought about just wearing a white t-shirt, jeans and white sneakers. Maybe a light jacket in case it gets cooler later?” You replied.

She pondered for a minute. “I’ll allow that.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. “Oh, well thank you for approving my wardrobe choices.”

The two of you had a good laugh and you told her you’d talk to her later after your date if it wasn’t too late.

**********

“How many styles of white t-shirts do I have, anyway?” You said out loud to yourself while trying to get ready.

You had become comfortable with Billy. Not just at the game but the phone conversations that followed. He did call after the game and admitted that he couldn’t wait to get home that night to be able to talk to you again.

It’s a good thing he couldn’t tell you were blushing over the phone because you really couldn’t help it. Billy’s voice was so smooth like warm honey, almost hypnotizing as he talked about his company.

He sounded excited that he was giving veterans purpose again after they had served their country. Some of them didn’t know what to do with themselves when they got out, all they had ever known was combat but Anvil gave them an opportunity to do what they do best…and what they did best was protect and serve. But this time they were doing it for a private contractor.

Finally pleased with your outfit choice, you finished getting ready quickly because Billy would be arriving soon to pick you up.

You texted him.

Just let me know when you’re outside, I’ll come down.

He wrote back.

Absolutely not, I’m coming up to get you.

This took you by surprise; you weren’t used to men making that extra effort, going that extra mile to treat you well, and happy to do so. The guys you were used to going out with did the bare minimum but wanted extra effort from you and you were tired of it.

Your stomach jumped into your throat when you heard the buzzer ring. Billy was downstairs.

“Hello? Billy, is that you?” You asked.

“Yeah beautiful, it’s me.” He replied.

Biting down on your lower lip, you tried to keep yourself from smiling too much but you were very excited to see him again.

“Ok, come on up!” You said excitedly.

Billy lightly tapped on your door and you rushed to open it. He looked just as handsome as you remembered, wearing a gray t-shirt, dark jeans, white sneakers and a baseball hat. He greeted you with that same million-dollar smile that he left you with that day.

“Ah, there she is. You ready to go, y/n?” He asked.

“I am but are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” You asked.

His mouth split into a sly smile and he winked at you when he replied, “Oh no…it’s a surprise, sweet girl. Let’s go.”

Wherever you were going, Billy seemed really excited to take you there so you locked the door behind you and off you went. On the way to your destination, he removed his hat and asked you sit back and place the hat over your eyes so you couldn’t see where he was taking you.

“I’ve seen movies like this, Billy.” You said sternly but playfully and giving him the side eye.

Billy chuckled a little. “I wanna keep it a surprise so humor me, please?”

“Well since you asked nicely.” You said.

After parking the car and walking a few blocks, with your eyes to the ground, he told you to look up from the sidewalk.

You were at Yankee Stadium.

Confused but with a slight smile, you asked him, “Uh, what are we doing here, Billy? There’s no game here tonight, they’re on the road.”

“You’re right about that but I’ve arranged for a private tour of the stadium, just you and me.” He said, lacing his fingers with yours. “We can do whatever we want…within reason.”

There was that smile again.

Billy drew your hand up to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand, never taking his eyes off of you. Warmth rushed to your cheeks and your heart was beating so rapidly, you thought it might explode. This had to be the best date you had ever been on and it had barely started.

“Wait…so I get to wander around Yankee Stadium unsupervised?” You joked.

He laughed again. You loved his laugh already.

“Well not completely unsupervised but for the most part, yeah.”

A shy smile stretched across your lips. You had trouble finding the words to say to him for taking you on an incredible date but you knew it must have been expensive.

“How were you able to do this, Billy? Look, I know they don’t just LET you do something like this. It must have cost a small fortune and I’m not sure I deserve it.” You said.

He inched closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies he gazed down at you and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. His eyes looked like two pieces of dark chocolate and they were very easy to get lost in.

“Is it wrong that I wanted to take you on a nice first date?” Asked Billy.

You shook your head, still looking up into those endless brown eyes.

“And of course you deserve it. Come on, let’s go have some fun.” He said as he kissed your forehead and gently pulled you toward the entrance.

Billy Russo was making it very easy to fall for him.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You called out after him, going down a tunnel.

“I have no idea but we’re gonna find out.” He said with a childlike smile.

The two of you led each other down a labyrinth of underground tunnels and what seemed like mazes all around the stadium. You didn’t know what area you were going to pop out of next and it didn’t matter because you were having such a great time.

You made your way out into the outfield where Monument Park was. All of the retired numbers of past Yankee greats were out there…Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Lou Gehrig, Thurman Munson, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, and Don Mattingly…just to name a handful.

You wandered around all of the retired numbers and found Billy standing in front of Joe DiMaggio’s plaque and monument. He felt you standing close to him without even turning around and that’s when he started to speak.

“Ya know growin’ up in the group home, we’d play stickball in the street all the time. I thought I was pretty good, had a pretty decent arm. I wanted to play outfield just like Joe DiMaggio but uh, when my arm got broken and my rotator cuff was torn…I knew that could never happen.” He said softly, almost at a whisper like he was ashamed.

A gentle breeze picked up and brushed against your warm skin as you carefully moved closer to him and lightly touched him on the arm.

“Billy?” You started to say.

“Come on, let’s go run the bases.” He said with an uncomfortable smile. “They said they left something in the dugout for us.”

Billy headed to the outfield with you following close behind but you were still trying to process what just happened. Something about that story didn’t sit well with you, like he left out information that he just wasn’t comfortable telling you yet but you let it go for now and continued with your date.

Being on the field and looking up into the stands was surreal. You had always wondered what it looked like from down there and it was amazing.

You let the well-manicured grass glide through your fingers, touched the dirt along the base path, and were curious as to what the texture of the chalk they used to line home plate with felt like.

Standing tall on second base, you found yourself just taking in the sights all around you, from the advertisements, to the dugouts, along the foul lines, and the centerfield bleachers; the smile on your face stretched from ear to ear, you had a hard time remembering the last time you had this much fun on a date.

Billy called out to you from the dugout.

“They left gloves and a ball for us to toss around!”

You jogged in from second base.

“Will your arm be ok to do that, Billy?” You asked.

He smiled. “It’ll be alright, sweet girl. Just don’t go too far.” Said Billy with a little laugh.

“Well shit, I don’t know how far you think I can throw but I’m gonna tell ya, it’s not that far.” You said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

The ball hit his glove with a sharp smack. Billy looked rather impressed.

“Did you ever play, y/n?” He asked.

A laugh escaped your lips that surprised you just as much as it surprised him.

“HA! No, I didn’t play but my brother did and I used to help him warm up sometimes.” You said.

He motioned for you to come to him. “Come here, beautiful. They left something else for us too.”

Inside the dugout were boxes of popcorn and a couple bottles of beer. The experience of sitting inside the Yankee dugout was almost magical; it was something that you only thought was possible in a dream and it was with someone that you already had deep feelings for even though you didn’t know him very well.

Billy was so guarded and you felt like even telling you about his arm was difficult for him but opening himself up even just that little bit gave you hope that maybe he would eventually share more about himself with you.

Yankee highlights played on the large screen in the outfield while you and Billy talked. More like, you talked and he listened.

“I feel like I’m talking too much.” You said, turning to face him and pulling one leg up onto the dugout bench.

“Yeah, sorry…my relationships usually don’t involve this much talking.” He said.

When he said that, for a split second it made you think that maybe he was just a womanizer and he was doing all of this to just get in your pants but he corrected himself.

“No, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I wanna be honest with you in that I really don’t do relationships, they’re usually just a physical thing for me, no emotional attachments. I was always made to think attachments were a weakness.” He said.

“This isn’t exactly the best way to proposition me, Billy.” You said sarcastically with a slight smile.

You enjoyed making Billy laugh and you just had a feeling it didn’t happen very often. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and he moved in closer. It was close enough to inhale the scent of his cologne and smell the beer on his lips.

“What I meant to say is, I’ve never had a better date than the one I’m on right now. Women I go out with usually don’t try and get me to laugh or have a good time. They’re just…meaningless. But I feel something when I’m with you and even when I’m just talking to you on the phone. I don’t know what those feelings are quite yet but I know that I…I like you, y/n.”

Your heart ached for him. What could have happened that he felt like he couldn’t form any kind of emotional attachments to anyone?

“I like you too, Billy…a lot.” You said with a kind smile.

His lips were so close to yours when the “kiss cam” appeared on the screen, showing the two of you in the dugout and a heart around you.

“Real smooth, Russo.” You said narrowing your eyes at him.

“Hey I had nothing to do with that, I swear. I knew they were watching but I didn’t know how closely.” He whispered.

You brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumb, a sharp breath caught in your throat as you leaned forward to kiss him. You could actually taste the beer on his lips now as his mouth slanted over yours with his tongue gently pushing against your teeth begging to twist and knot with yours.

The drop in your stomach happened so fast, it was something that’s never happened to you before, like a delightful spark igniting inside your body.

Maybe this was the start of something special.

Billy kissed your forehead and cupped your cheeks to look into your eyes.

“Ask me something.” He commanded.

You had a confused look on your face.

“Ask me something that you wanna know about me.” He said again.

“Ok…how did you break your arm?” You asked.

As he told the story, anger burned in the pit of your stomach thinking about how anyone could do that to a child and how no one was around to stop it.

Billy had a hard time looking you in the eye when he talked about Arthur, how he fought back, and how he paid the price for it. He ended up with a broken arm and his rotator cuff torn in three places. “When a grown man tells you that you're pretty, you know nothing good is coming.”

When he was finished, you didn’t know what to say. What could you say? I’m sorry? No…that wasn’t good enough. You sat up on your knees so your eyes were level with his, maybe slightly above, you leaned in close to touch your forehead to his while delicately scraping your nails against his scalp as if to silently tell him that “it’s ok, I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

The two of you stayed silent for a few minutes and you continued to comfort him in a way he wasn’t used to but he welcomed it. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable for the first time probably in his life, he let someone in.

There was more to Billy than just a handsome face, charm, and money but not one person had bothered to try and tear down that wall of protection.

No one saw the light in his eyes when he talked about playing stickball when he was young, or how proud he was to serve his country and building a successful company from the ground up.

But you did. You wanted to know all about him. Maybe Billy Russo had finally found the one person that he wanted to tell all of his secrets to…eventually.

His eyes were still closed when you softly pressed your lips to his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Billy. I just didn’t know what to say.” You whispered in his ear.

Billy slowly opened his eyes and gave you a slight smile. You could tell he was a little nervous about letting you touch him but he accepted your touches, they calmed him down after his story about Arthur and the group home.

“It’s ok, sweet girl. Sometimes words aren’t…necessary.” He said.

The way Billy touched you, it was almost as if he was testing to make sure you were real. From the moment he picked you up for your date, he never let you wander too far from him.

He held your hand, or wrapped his arm around your waist, sometimes he let his fingers wander up and down your back. Billy made you feel like he never wanted to let you go.

And you didn’t want him to.

“I know that couldn’t have been easy for you to tell that story, Billy so…thank you for sharing that with me.” You said with a slight smile.

He pulled you into his lap, his long slender fingers tangled in your hair as his lips collided with yours once again. Billy’s teeth nipped at your jaw and his lips pressed down your neck to your exposed collarbone. That spot always made you weak in the knees.

Breathing heavily, you whispered his name.

“Billy…”

He purred in your ear. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I hate to stop you but ummm, we’re uh, kinda giving the camera people a show.” You joked.

You both started to chuckle.

“Fuck, I forgot about them.” He said with a sly smile. “You ready to go to dinner?”

“Oh you mean we’re not eating here?” You asked sarcastically.

“Oh she’s beautiful AND funny.” Said Billy with a wink.

You smiled and ran your fingers through his raven colored hair as you replied.

“Well, for the record Mr. Russo, I wouldn’t mind eating here…with you.”

Billy gazed into your eyes and said, “and here I thought I was the only smooth talker.”

“Only when I’m comfortable and I…” You paused. “I feel very comfortable with you, Billy.”

It had been a long time since you’ve had a date like this and from what Billy told you, he had never had a date like this. You were looking forward to getting to know him better, to making him laugh more, and finding out why you were the person he chose to finally open up to.

He pinched your chin in between his forefinger and thumb and said, “Me too, beautiful. Me too.” And he kissed you again.

Maybe fairy tales weren’t so far-fetched after all. Billy Russo was an unexpected hero that came to your rescue when you needed him to. He was the knight in shining armor who charged in out of left field wearing a baseball hat…and a Joe DiMaggio t-shirt.

And maybe in return, you could help rescue that scared little boy that still lingers inside of him and be the hero he’s always needed, wanted…and deserved.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

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