#yes will would definitely wear cargo skirts because POCKETS

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Nico *wearing a long gothic skirt*

Leo *wearing a short poofy skirt*

Will *wearing a cargo skirt*

The three of them: LETS GO FUCK UP SOME MONSTERS!!!!

[somedaytakethetime]

I'm procrastinating my life and I feel like mush so.. I'm back to my papyrus scrolls of text. Today? The Sewing Beast™

And that is to say: Inspiration Images - The Actual Sewing Time! Let's get cracking and break it down.

I was up until like 2am last night (I have horrible sleeping habits lately) and I came across a seamstress that has the perfect style for what I'm going for currently in my life. And I mean in terms of dresses that is. I've figured out that I no longer care so much if I think I look fat in clothes, because the thing is: I'm actually relatively skinny. I'm not supermodel levels of thin, my thighs definitely rub together and I'm meatier on my bottom half but I'm slender still. I have a perfectly healthy weight now, after a few years of... not so great "eating" habits and being not-so-healthy-weighted let's put it in that softer way. I just feel fat. Due to previously mentioned reasons. So, the way I look in my own head likely doesn't actually match the way I look externally. And that's hard to move past and let go of. I would like to look a certain way, but realistically I'll never manage to sustain that, I tried and it's just not possible for me. And with that that's all I'll touch on that subject, so refocusing on the problem at hand: I sort of strongly dislike the look of me in the mirror BUT you know what I dislike even more? BEING UNCOMFORTABLE! I can't stand feeling like I can't breathe when I'm wearing something, or feeling like I'm pinched and pulled tight everywhere. Which has led me to this current approach for more looser fitted clothing. My plan still includes some more "fitted" dresses but my definition of fitted has changed massively lately. Let's break that down.

I need some of this style of looser fitted smock/babydoll type of dress:

I feel like this sort of style will be so comfortable in the clammy days of summer.

My new definition of tighter fit is this:

I'm not a huge fan of the longer sleeves on the wrap dress and the buttoned dress, but I could easily change that. As for something that I like the look of but is a bit more whimsical (so it still fits my personality):

Longer dresses (and skirts) that are flowy and have slits because I think that would balance out how short and stumpy I am. Rompers and dungarees because... girl.. I love a romper and a dungaree okay?? And granny prints. Still want to cosplay your nan's couch, yes I do. (all the photos above belong to Janelle at Rosery Apparel)

The overall look for daily wear dresses would be: comfortable, simple cuts and easy, quick makes (I'm making everything myself so.. need to take in consideration my own laziness). Smock dresses, wrap dresses, and sort of 90s flower child inspiration going into it.

Now let's get into skirts because those are super simple: mini pencil skirts and mini a-line skirts. That's it. That's my new aesthetic. For a woman that hasn't shown a knee to the general public in nearly 8 years? This is ground breaking. Let's look at images because I'm visual.

(links: image 1 and 3 are ill gotten from Pinterest, image 2 belongs to Maja, image 4 belongs to Stephanie, image 6 ill gotten from Pinterest, and image 5 belongs to Stacie)

Easy peasy, super simple, quick to make. I own a million skirts that need re-fitting. Will have to get to that soon. Send help.

Also to add a touch of fancy, because this is my idea of holiday attire:

(all pilfered from the internet, no sources for these)

Wide legged trousers, a-line flowy skirts, sparkly or silky, sweaters on top. That's the whole idea and the whole look.

As for trousers I'm going simple: high waisted, straight cut or wide legged. I feel better if I have breathing room in my clothes, I feel less like a sausage in a too tight casing. So think:

Also letting the kids influence me and throwing it back to the 2000s when I used to wear:

The Cargo Pant™

I like pockets as a style choice and not so much as a practicality choice, what can I say? yes, I know that cargo pants were "appropriated" from men's workwear, especially factory workers and mechanics that needed all those pockets

I think denim I need very little of. I don't like how denim feels, it always feels so uncomfortably stiff to me. But that could just be because I'm poor so the quality of the denim I've worn over the years might be lacking or something, I have no clue. Linen and cotton wrinkle like hell, oui, but they make such comfortable light clothes.. muy needed in my wardrobe. Other features that my trousers might need: elasticated waists. The front would look totally normally but if maybe I add elastic at the back portion then maybe when I eat they won't be too tight over my stomach. That's one of the bothers that I find with my clothes: I don't like being pinched over my stomach area (which fun fact sits essentially above the natural waist level, and on my body it always feels like it's sitting at actual waist level) when I'm eating or when I've just finished eating.

Looking at all of this that seems about it. I'd add a few fun elements with overalls and rompers because I like one full outfit of pants (a dress is a full outfit, but when it comes to pants you always need a layer on top or you're bazooms out in public.. the fix? Rompers. The downside? Bazooms out when you use the toilet..). I also love the idea of some skorts... now, I know I'm old, but there's nothing that delights my heart more than seeming to be wearing a skirt and BAM! they're secret shorts (or pants, depending on how long you make them) plus as someone that tends to sprawl out when she sits OR sit her ass down anywhere in public if I get too tired or bored (yes, I'm 5 years old why do you ask?) I think a secret short or pant is the perfect solution to not flash my Tweety Bird to the world.. 🥴🥴

[sunnysviolin]

Hey! I think that Kel would wear some unique types of bottom's like Sweatpants, Palazzo's, Cargo pant's, and etc. I also think he would also have his hair in a small ponytail. (That's right, I'm back.) - 💥/ Genderfluid!Kel anon

Sorry 💥! This had to wait for Shan’s birthday!!! But Yes I love the idea of weird fashion icon genderfluid Kel 0-0 They rock every outfit they wear. Also the back end of this just turned into Kel loves skirts the deep dive...sorry 

Kel has always had an....eccentric fashion taste but honestly once they start high school they just go feral with it. 

Kel tends to wear the same five tshirts and tank tops with the same two sweatshirts, but bottoms? That’s her shit. He has everything

Sweatpants are a must. He has three pairs of the same exact ones that are his favorite. Each pair is rattier than the last. They are obscenely tie dye and they usually pairs them with an orange tank top. Various people have tried to stage an intervention to no success

Kel is that person who has something in every pocket of their cargo pants. Need a tissue? A mint? A calculator? Exactly 42 cents? A granola bar? She’s got you. It becomes the joke to ask if Kel has X and watch her unzip one of her pouches. 

Palazzos are special af. It’s one fo the first ways that Kel can play around with their gender expression before they fully commit to doing so. Palazzos are closer to being feminine, but due to Kel’s unqiue style, no one bats an eye when he comes in in a pair of black and white checkered harem pants. They feel perfect

But once they feel comfortable enough to add more feminine clothing to their wardrobe? Oh all bets are off. 

Skirts? Coolest thing ever. Kel really likes a skirt/shorts underneath combo because its the most comfy option ever. The ease of shorts with the fun swishy feeling of skirts. 

The first time they wear a skirt out is....nervewracking. He doesn’t wear it to school, just to an outing with him, Basil, Aubrey, and the hooligans, but it’s still scary. Angel gets to make one singular comment before Aubrey hits him upside the head and tells them not to treat Kel like a joke. Ever. 

(Don’t worry Angel definitely apologizes later that day and Kel accepts. Angel is very particular about getting Kel’s pronouns corrrect after that) 

There are a lot of people who do end up teasing her for what she wears, but between being a pretty popular basketball star and Aubrey just being...intimidating, the supporters drown out the haters. 

Basket Ball Team Solidarity. That’s all I’m gonna say. Kel wears a flouncy full skirt and someone just won’t shut up about it. Aubrey ends up getting suspended for getting into a fight with that person, and then the school tries to suspend Kel for being the “instigating force” They manage to give him two days. 

The basketball team finds this out and they all collectively wear skirts together. It’s not something they necessarily like but nobody gets to fuck with their point guard. Kel finds this out and she def cries but it’s okay. 

Kel usually uses they/them pronouns for convenience, but his closest friends always make sure to double check what pronouns would be most preferred. Aubrey makes Kel two more friendship bracelets (one blue and one purple) so she can choose which one to wear to indicate which pronouns she wants and when. 

It’s a bit of a learning curve for the hooligans, but they are trying because Kel is actually pretty cool once they get to know him. 

So many of his teammates get very confusing crushes on Kel. Really confusing and self realizing crushes. It becomes the things they talk about when Kel isn’t around because it’s so hard to not have a crush on them? 

Kel wore a pleated mini-skirt of Kim’s with galaxy leggings underneath the other day, and the team had an entire group phone call about it just to discuss. Kel is blissfully unaware of how many sexuality crises she is causing, she just really liked that skirt. 

Aubrey absolutely knows what’s going on, and she thinks it’s really funny, so she encourages her best friend to wear even more fun skirts. 

[thisbrokenmask]

V for Vivian

pairing: female reader x Kim Seokjin

genre: angst, romance

word count: 5,409

warnings: nothing explicit, but there are descriptions of a toxic relationship

summary: certain that your ex sort-of boyfriend won’t turn up to taehyung’s new year’s eve costume party, you go ahead with your half of the couple’s costume you’d planned. 

a/n: I need to stop writing 5k+ ‘drabbles’ in 24 hours, but I wanted to get at least a line of my @btsholidaybingo​​ card completed before New Year! I have two left to do tonight, so hopefully I’ll get them in before the clock ticks over to 2021 here in the UK. Somehow my ‘Costume Party’ prompt became this 5.4k word story, but hopefully it’s okay. Massive shout out to @hereinyourarmsforever​ for putting up with me sending her these at all hours of the day - couldn’t do it with you ♥

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea~” Namjoon singsongs from your bed. He’s lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, the same position he’s been in for the last twenty minutes while you’ve been getting ready. His feet are hanging off the edge to keep his shoes from getting on your sheets, even though they’re brand new and basically clean, especially considering they’ve only touched the floor outside when he’s gotten in and out of his Uber to your apartment. “You know he’ll think you did it for him.”

“I still don’t think he’ll be coming~” you sing back as you adjust your wig, a blonde bob that frames your face. You decide to bypass pinning it tonight, knowing that it will be held on by your hat until you decide to take them both off later. “Besides, if he turns up, he’ll just look like any other guy in a suit,” you sniff dismissively as you pick up your large gold hoop earrings. “I, however, will look hot as fuck whether he’s there or not. See?”

You turn and pose for Namjoon, who looks up just as you’re pushing your red painted lips into an exaggerated pout, blowing him a kiss. 

You laugh when his jaw actually drops and he stares at you unabashedly, blinking at you from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. His eyes rake across your frame, taking in the large cut outs in your dress, the skirt of which finishes way above mid-thigh, and dropping all the way down to the black, knee-high boots on your feet, safety pins instead of zips for added effect. 

“No?”

Namjoon’s eyes snap upwards, mouth still gaping like a lost fish. 

“Huh?” You smirk at the way his voice catches in his throat as he adjusts himself on the bed, not so subtly trying to adjust himself in his khaki cargo pants at the same time. At least they give him some breathing room, you think to yourself deviously, wondering if you’ll have the same effect on everyone else going to the party tonight. 

“Hot as fuck, or?” You turn on the spot, shimmying your hips to make sure your exposed waist draws attention, grabbing your paperboy hat from your dressing table as you go. With a pointed look at your long-term friend, you pinch the bill of your cap between your fingers and pull it down over your wig, relying on it to keep everything secure for at least the first hour of the party. “Or not so much?”

“Definitely hot as fuck,” Namjoon agrees, nodding as vehemently as he can without taking his eyes off of you. “Yeah, screw Seokjin-hyung,” he declares after a few more seconds of inspecting you. “You’re wearing that whether he’s going or not.” 

“I’m glad you agree, kind sir,” you laugh, preening under his attention and performing a curtsey that pushes your skirt even higher up your legs. You try not to spare too much thought to the brief mention of your sort-of ex, too many complicated feelings thrumming under your ribcage at the thought of him. You grab your coat, a cheap red one you found on eBay and super-glued some fake black fur cuffs onto, and your favourite black purse as you usher Namjoon to follow you. “Because I have nothing else.”

Part of you really doesn’t want to see Seokjin, still mad at the way he easily brushed off any talk of commitment one too many times. Everyone thought you were together, your friends referred to you as one of the couples of the group, and yet he would always make a point of saying you weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend - you just… went together. 

Another part of you, though, wants him to be there. Wants him to turn up at Taehyung’s apartment in his stupid suit that makes him look like he walked right off the runway, just so he can see you dressed in Julia Roberts’ knockout opening outfit from Pretty Woman. You could probably have a few guys eating out of your hands with just a bat of your eyelashes to prove a point to him, too. 

You don’t need him, not if he doesn’t want you.  

“I’m sure Taehyung wouldn’t complain if you went naked,” Namjoon ponders, and you can tell by the slightly dreamy tone to his voice that he’s definitely thinking about it. You lightly elbow him in the ribs as he follows you out of your front door before you turn to lock it and he laughs, adjusting his glasses. 

“You look good, by the way,” you tell him as the two of you turn to the building’s elevator. “Who are you again? Mike?”

“It’s Milo,” Namjoon whines as he steps in behind you, tapping at his phone for an Uber. This is the fifth time you’ve gotten the name wrong and by now he’s certain you’re doing it on purpose. 

“Ah, yes, Milo. From Atlanta-”

“Atlantis.”

“Right, right,” you grin as the doors open and you step out into the lobby. “Atlantis.”

Taehyung’s apartment is significantly bigger than yours, easily hosting at least 50-odd people for his New Year’s costume party, and you happily let yourself in like it’s your name on the buzzer. Namjoon follows, your hand wrapping tightly around his fingers to keep him close as you start to make your way through the throng of people. He keeps his expression as blank as he can when he eyes any guy who gives you a double or triple take, fiercely protective of you despite your assertions that you can handle yourself.

He’s known you long enough, though, to know that there’s only so much attention you can enjoy before you get overwhelmed. He knows large crowds panic you, which is why you’re gripping onto him so tightly, scared of getting separated from the people you’re comfortable with. You may bask in the attention of flings and passersby, but you are really only happy to spend time with those you know well.  

You spot Taehyung’s mop of dark curls through the gaudy costumes and head straight towards him, dropping Namjoon’s fingers. You know he’ll be right behind you no matter what. You move as fast as you can without pushing anyone over, a grin already plastered on your face before you reach the evening’s host. 

“TaeTae!” you call out and he whips round, completely forgetting whoever he was talking to as a wide boxy smile takes over his face at the sight of you. He scoops you up when you jump, his arms around your waist as he spins you round in a hug. He puts you down just as Namjoon makes his way into the little pocket of space that always seems to form around Taehyung.

“Hey, kitten,” Taehyung croons into your ear and you flush at the nickname that only Taehyung calls you. There’s always been an unspoken attraction between you and Taehyung, unspoken only because it’s so blatantly obvious that neither of you actually need to say it. You’ve never acted on it, both gluttons for the excitement of dancing around each other and having someone decent to flirt with at parties. The number of ‘almosts’ with Taehyung are too many to count and, still riding the wave of confidence Namjoon’s reaction gave you earlier, you’re sure tonight will be another almost-notch on the bedpost. “You look great.”

His nose brushes against your ear before he pulls away, turning to greet Namjoon, acknowledging the older man for the first time. 

“Who are you meant to be?” Namjoon and Taehyung ask each other at the same time, staring at each other with critical gazes and you burst out laughing between them. 

Taehyung’s brow twitches as he takes in Namjoon’s brown boots, his khaki-green pants and his cream sweatshirt, a light jacket thrown over the top (that you know Namjoon will hide away in Taehyung’s spare closet so he doesn’t lose it). You join Taehyung in his scrutiny of Namjoon’s outfit, but you rather admire how his chest fills it out, how his styled hair sits perfectly above his wire-rimmed glasses.

Namjoon eyes Taehyung’s military-style jacket in return, brow furrowing at the frilly black cuffs peeking out at the end of his sleeves, the white ruff at his neck and the two red stripes of face paint across his cheek in return. You love Taehyung’s outfit and you must admit you’re impressed with the level of detail he’s been able to achieve, down to his black painted nails. You’re pretty sure no part of his outfit came from eBay.

“You’re meant to come in a costume,” Taehyung says, eyes zoning in on the book in Namjoon’s hand. “Not your normal stuff.”

Namjoon stares back at him blankly. 

“Do you literally ever see me dress like this on a normal day.”

“I mean-”

“It’s a costume.” He insists, and Taehyung snickers.

“He’s Mike from Atlantis,” you supply, Taehyung leaning closer to you to listen, an arm snaking under your coat and curling around your waist. You suppress a shiver at the heat of his palm against your skin, his fingertips sinking into the curve of your waist.

Namjoon’s eyes quickly flicker down to watch the movement before he levels his gaze at you, his jaw clenching when he arches an eyebrow at you. You can see the playful glint in his eyes and you’re trying just as hard not to laugh as you bite your lip to keep your giggles in check, clinging onto Taehyung’s jacket as he looks on in amusement.

“Wasn’t he called Milo?” Taehyung asks and you see Namjoon’s eyes literally light up.

“Yes! Thank you,” he excitedly claps a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, jostling the two of you slightly but he’s so happy to hear someone get the name right after all the times you’ve said it wrong that you can’t help but smile.

“And Tae is clearly Adam Ant,” you say, pressing your hand to Taehyung’s chest and smiling up at him. “Gotta brush up on your 80s rock bands, Joonie.” Taehyung stands taller, chest pressed forward into your palm, clearly glad that someone has picked up on his costume first try.

“Yeah, Joonie,” Taehyung grins, knowing Namjoon won’t hurt him, especially not in front of you. 

“Drink, Valerie?” Namjoon asks, purposefully getting your name wrong in a failed attempt to annoy you. You grin.

“Yes please, Joonie.”

“Usual?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“You got cherries?” he asks Taehyung, who looks offended that Namjoon even had to ask.

“Of course.”

With a nod, Namjoon heads off to the kitchen before stopping himself, looking back to Taehyung. “Look after her,” he warns, voice dropping low. Taehyung pulls you closer with a nod, hand slipping onto your hip as Namjoon starts to pick his way through the crowd.

“So,” Taehyung hums when Namjoon finally leaves you alone together, guiding you by his grip on your hip to the edge of the room. Several partygoers vacate the sofa pushed up against the wall when Taehyung approaches, allowing the two of you to sink down into the velvet together. “You look great, Victoria,” he teases, leaning in close with his hand still firmly on your hip.

“Thanks,” you cross one leg over the other, your boot brushing against Taehyung’s knee as his gaze drops down to the skin of your thighs. “Pretty Woman is one of my favourites, and this was probably my favourite look in the whole movie,” you say, repressing a shiver as he lets his free hand ghost against the side of your thigh. His eyes are dark and hooded but he’s still attentive, listening intently. You’re pretty sure you could talk about the colour of his ceiling right now and he’d be just as enraptured. 

“Mine too,” he says, voice low enough for only you to hear. His fingertips ghost the hem of your skirt, barely inches from a heat that always grows when you’re near him. “Especially on you.” He pauses, gaze dark as the hand on your hip climbs back up to your waist and keeps rising, drawing light circles across your ribs. “Although that scene in the bath is a close second.”

“Want me to badly sing Prince songs to you, Tae?” you tease, reaching up to finger the gold detailing on the lapels of his jacket. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest under your fingers. 

“If you’ll be wet and naked and covered in bubbles, you can sing whatever you want,” he grins. “Want me to go fill up the tub?”

“Maybe later,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. You’re pretty sure you wouldn’t turn down a bath with Taehyung given the opportunity, but you doubt either of you will remember this conversation within the hour. “This was supposed to be a couples costume, you know,” you sigh, letting the jacket drop back off your shoulders to pool on the sofa. Taehyung watches the material fall, absentmindedly licking his lips when his eyes rove over your newly-exposed skin. “But no way was I passing up wearing this outfit just because we weren’t coming together.”

“Very good choice,” Taehyung says, pressing his lips to your shoulder in a lingering kiss and you feel heat curl in your abdomen. “I would have had to kick Seokjin out if you’d come in something else because of him.”

He feels you tense under his hands and presses another quick kiss to your shoulder, his wandering hands pausing, relaxing to be more comforting than exciting.

“So he did come, then,” you mumble, refraining from turning to search through the crowd and focusing on fiddling with Taehyung’s buttons. 

“He did.”

“Is he-?”

“Dressed as Richard Gere?” Dark umber stares back at you when you meet his gaze, soft around the edges. “Yeah, he is.”

“Goddammit,” you huff, letting your body drop into the back of the sofa. You were hoping he’d at least come as something else, if he was going to come. It wasn’t like Seokjin didn’t look good in a suit, very much the opposite actually, but without you dressed as Julia Roberts on his arm, you figured he’d switch to a different costume that could be recognisable on its own. “Where is he?” you ask, picking at the hem of your dress while Taehyung puts his hand on your knee, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. His other hand slides across the back of the sofa and you lean your head against his forearm.

“Dunno,” he says without even looking at the crowd around you. “Don’t care, to be honest. I’m just glad you still came. But I’ll keep him away from you, if you want.” 

You smile up at him, knowing that he’s just as protective over you as Namjoon. You’re well aware that the two of them both have feelings for you, a cause of contention between them as they both feel the other isn’t good enough for you. Whether it’s simply lust or something more, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been able to say wholeheartedly that you felt the same about either of them and so you never allowed anything to happen. Taehyung is fun to flirt with, and he knows the limits he’s allowed to dance around with you, whereas Namjoon is your best friend, for years the two of you have been each other’s go-to dates for work events and other things you’d rather die than go to alone.

You’ve made it clear where you stand with both of them, and they respect those boundaries. 

Seokjin, however, had been incredibly confusing for you. He could be incredibly sweet, even domestic when you’d spend weekends in his penthouse with him and you’d quietly become exclusive without a conversation. He’d never said so himself, but you knew from whispers on the socialite grapevine that Taehyung kept you tapped into that he wasn’t seeing anyone else. 

You’d had a few flings over the years, nothing too serious but at least they were willing to publicly claim you were seeing each other. Seokjin had never done that for you, but you’d been more like a couple than any other relationship you’d ever had before. He was definitely the first person who made you feel so fiercely you feared your chest would burst just from him looking at you. The first man to make you feel like you wanted to be with someone long term. 

You haven’t seen him since he let you walk out of Jimin’s Halloween party, although ‘party’ may be too casual a term for the events Jimin throws. Halloween had been an elegant masquerade ball in an old theatre uptown, every room lavishly bathed in purple and silver, from the drapes to the wait staff’s outfits. 

You’d been drawn into yet another conversation about the nature of your relationship when Jimin’s latest flame had asked how long you’d been together, although Jimin had quickly dragged her away with the lure of more champagne to avoid the impending argument. 

You’d jokingly suggested that maybe you should put a label on whatever it was between you and Seokjin, if anything to make those conversations easier, but he hadn’t agreed. Oh no, he’d told you to stop trying to fit other people’s expectations rather than doing what you wanted for yourself. When you’d shot back that maybe you did want to put a label on it, he’d told you firmly, again, that he’d never agreed that would happen. You accused him of giving you whiplash, of treating you like he loved you one minute then acting like you were nothing more than a fuck on speed dial the next. At least Jimin acted like he liked his flings, could bear to be seen with them in public and admitted to the connection, however brief. Seokjin had fallen into stony silence instead of replying, sipping his champagne as he watched the party, making it clear the conversation was over without walking away.

So you did, instead. 

You found Jimin, who protested profusely when you pressed a kiss to his cheek as you said goodbye, and walked out without looking back.

You have only heard from Seokjin once since, a single text that you’d refused to answer, and when he hadn’t tried again you’d assumed that, whatever it had been between you, was over. You weren’t going to be the one to extend the olive branch this time, tired of waving a tattered white flag and being the first to break the silence. If he’d wanted you, he’d known where to find you, known which circles you ran in and which friends he could scout out. 

But he didn’t.

Fuck him, you thought, shaking off the growing ache in your chest and forcing a smile to your lips as you considered Taehyung’s offer.

“Don’t worry, Taetae, I’m sure he won’t be seeking me out any time soon.”

“If he does, you come find me, okay? Or Namjoon,” he adds, and you can tell it almost pains him to suggest you go to someone other than himself. “I don’t want him ruining your night.”

“I won’t let him,” you say resolutely, although neither of you quite believe your words. 

You’re not quite sure how it’s happened, but you’re still wearing your hat two hours later despite having lost your wig from underneath it. You have a vague memory of Jungkook dancing around with a blonde bob, but you’ve had several more Cherry Bombs following the first one Namjoon had made you earlier. He had been making them for you, but when you’d figured out he was skimping on the rum, you stopped telling him when your cup was empty, much to Taehyung’s amusement. 

That’s where you are now, in the kitchen making your next drink in a daze, popping a cherry in your mouth as you go through the motions. 

The kitchen is pretty much empty by this point, most of the partygoers having  collapsed into plush sofas around the apartment or filed out to the balcony ready for the fireworks. You know both Taehyung and Namjoon are out there waiting for you, although your head is a little fuzzy on who you would rather be standing next to when the clock ticks over. 

You’re pondering if you’d be capable of convincing them both to kiss a cheek each at the same time when someone else enters the kitchen. You don’t notice the footsteps coming toward you until you get a strange feeling down your spine, but you just figure someone else is waiting for something you’re using. 

“I’ll be done with the rum in a second,” you say cheerfully, finishing your pour and putting it out to the side for them to grab, but they don’t move.

“I don’t drink rum,” a familiar voice murmurs, sending a chill down your spine that’s definitely not coming from the ice cubes in your hand. “You know that, Y/N.” He takes a step towards you, not close enough for your bodies to touch but you’re definitely aware of his presence now. “Or should I say Vivian?” 

“Seokjin,” you breathe out, turning to see the man in question stood in front of you looking just as handsome as you feared he would. Despite several hours of the party having passed, he doesn’t look anywhere near as dishevelled as most others are, but you assume that’s due to the scotch you recognise in the crystal-bottomed glass he’s holding. He’s always been one for sipping something stronger to keep his buzz rather than drinking to get wasted, and tonight is clearly no different. He’s not wearing a suit jacket, probably hung up somewhere to keep it safe, but he’s still wearing his dark blue waistcoat and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to expose his forearms. His hair has retained its style for the most part, only a few strands having fallen out of place across his forehead. 

“You look good,” he says, holding your gaze, and you know without asking that he doesn’t need to look down at your outfit because he’d have memorised it within the first half hour of seeing you. You consider your words carefully, knowing that this is much more than him simply coming to pay you a compliment.  

“I know,” you turn to grab your drink and make to leave, but his voice still has the power to stop you in your tracks. 

“You still wore it,” he states, and you’re surprised to see his eyes are softer than you expected despite the slight smirk on his lips. 

“Of course I did. It’s a good costume.”

“It is,” he agrees simply, looking down at his suit with a frown. “I just look like a rich asshole without my Vivian.”

“Nothing new, then,” you mutter into your cup and you’re surprised to hear him laugh.

“I guess so,” he says, and if you didn’t know him better you’d think he sounded sad. He takes a sip of his drink and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. The kitchen falls quiet between you. It’s awkward and heavy but neither of you make to leave. This is the closest you’ve knowingly been to him all evening and you’re torn between wanting to leave him in your wake and wanting to stay close to him. As much as he hurt you, you’re still drawn to him, still feel pulled towards him by the rope around your heart that neither of you ever severed. 

“What do you want, Seokjin?” you ask, wishing you were in between a bickering Taehyung and Namjoon right now instead of here with him. At least you know how everyone feels when you’re with them. 

Seokjin falters slightly at your question and your own nerves grow, a thickness in your throat that even your rum can’t cut through. Seokjin never falters. Something’s wrong.

“I just… I wanted to apologise,” he says, not quite meeting your eye, neck flushing red. You subtly take a sniff of your drink, making sure you haven’t accidentally slipped in something stronger, but the sweet cherry scent is exactly as it always is. 

Seokjin notices your shock and chuckles to himself, embarrassed, but he’s been going over what he wants to say to you for weeks and he’s not about to back out now. Steeling himself, he puts down his glass and turns to you, his expression sincere. 

“I really am sorry, Y/N-”

“For what?” you interrupt, curious whether he actually knows what he did wrong or if he’s just trying to butter you up. He doesn’t falter this time, as if he’s been expecting a third degree interrogation from you, but he doesn’t bristle either. The more you watch him and the way he accepts your sharp tone with resignation, the more you realise he is genuinely apologetic. It’s such a strange concept to you that you briefly wish he would go back to being an asshole to you just to feel a bit more familiar. 

“For everything,” he says, continuing before you can berate him for such a cop-out answer. “For never treating you properly, never treating you like you deserve to be treated.” He slips his hands in his pockets as he takes a few cautious steps towards you, keeping an eye on your reaction to make sure he doesn’t overstep. “I know I hurt you, when I told you I never promised I’d call you my girlfriend. I know I hurt you a lot of times.”

Hearing him say the words you’d wanted to hear for so long, actually admitting that he knew he’d hurt you and apologising for it, is enough to make your throat sting with the rising sensation of tears. You stare into your cup but you don’t see the cherries and ice cubes swimming in your rum: your attention is solely on him.

“I’m sorry I let you walk out of that party without telling you how I feel about you, about us.”

Your gaze snaps to him, feeling like all of the air is being squeezed out of your lungs. Seokjin never spoke about his feelings or spoke about the two of you as an ‘us’, only ever referring to you as two separate people who just happened to go to events together. 

“The last couple of weeks, I’ve… thought about you, a lot. I’ve really fucking missed you, Y/N,” he chokes out, closing his eyes tightly and you grip your cup. You’ve never heard him cry before. 

He looks up at you, eyes red, and you almost step towards him before you catch yourself. You’ve missed him, too, and not just for the way he leaves you weak in the knees the morning after. Despite his reluctance to put a label on your relationship, Seokjin was more domestic than he was perhaps capable of admitting. It had touched you when he’d learned your coffee order within a week, always had your favourite snacks stocked away in his penthouse kitchen and even bought you a small wardrobe’s worth of clothes. 

But it was the occasional evenings spent on his sofa that you remembered fondest, a bottle or two of red wine split between you while you watched TV together. He would always lay your legs across his lap, gently massaging down your calves while your chosen film or documentary played out in front of you until he was pressing circles into your feet with his thumbs. He always said he didn’t care for TV so he’d let you choose, but he’d be just as engrossed as you by the end of the night, insisting on one more episode before you dragged him to bed. It was those moments of intimacy that you missed, when he seemed like he could actually be your boyfriend if only he wasn’t so reluctant. 

You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to believe him, given how easily he threw it all away. 

“Sure, you did,” you roll your eyes, sarcasm dripping from your voice to mask the hurt you can’t swallow. “My phone’s barely stopped ringing.”

His gaze hardens, but a flash of hurt crosses his face. 

“I texted you,” he bites out. “You didn’t reply.”

“You asked me what I was doing for the holidays, Seokjin. You didn’t apologise, you didn’t say anything about what happened. You didn’t give me any reason to talk to you.” You put your cup down on the counter behind you, the temptation to throw it at him growing every second. 

“I didn’t know what else to say,” he says quietly. “I’m not used to…” he trails off, unsure how to phrase it. “I’m not used to being the one to fix things.” 

You laugh hollowly; you can’t help it. It’s bitter, the reminder that you were always the one to crawl back first, but it’s true. 

“It’s not nice, is it?” you ask, letting him see your own teary eyes as you look up at him. “Waiting for someone else to give you what you want.” His features fall and his shoulders drop, the meaning behind your words as clear as day: you waited for him to give you a relationship and he kept teasing you with it, pulling you along like a fool. 

“No,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not. But I’m ready, I think.” Seokjin takes one more step towards you, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, arms tense with the restraint it’s taking him not to reach out and touch you. 

“Ready?” you ask, head spinning, heart pounding. “Ready for what?”

“To give you what you want,” he says gently. “I’m ready to give you a relationship, if you still want one… still want me.”

You’ve waited months to hear him say those words but now that you’re hearing them you’re struggling to understand. Your eyes search his features and you see that he looks tired, like he hasn’t slept properly for a while. 

You’re conflicted. The disbelief of hearing those long-awaited words sits level on the scales of your emotions, balanced out by the sting of too many rejections in the past. You’re tired, too. Tired of waiting for him, of having your hopes raised by tender touches only to be dashed by the sharp words claiming you’re nothing more than his friend. You don’t want to fall for his words only for them to come back and cut you later on, but you also don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to at least try having everything you’ve ever wanted with him. 

It’s too big of a decision to make in one moment, even when you’re sober.

“I do,” you say hesitantly, careful with your expression. “I do still want you, but-” you put your hand out to stop him when he takes another step closer, hands withdrawing from his pockets to reach out for you. They hesitate in mid-air at the touch of your fingertips to his chest, fingers curling in on themselves. “But I can’t just say yes to this, not tonight. I need time. I need you to prove to me that I can trust you, and that you mean this, Seokjin.” 

His gaze softens and his hands slowly close over yours, holding your palm to his chest.

“I understand,” he says, hands holding yours tightly. “I’m willing to wait. I think it’s only fair, I’ve made you wait long enough.” 

“Too right,” you say, pushing him gently on the chest and his cheeky smirk falls into a grin. 

“Start the new year with me,” he says, gradually bringing you closer until he can press a kiss to your hair.

“Okay,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his torso and relaxing into the planes of his chest. You’ve missed being held by him. “Let’s go outside.”

You retrieve your glasses and head out onto the balcony together hand in hand, taking the alcohol with you more to keep you warm than to keep any lingering buzz going. Namjoon smiles when you come up beside him, almost wrapping his arm around your shoulder when he catches sight of your hand entwined with Seokjin’s. His expression falls slightly but he recovers, meeting your gaze to silently ask if everything’s okay, and when you nod his smile returns, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. You know he’ll have questions and you’ll answer them in time but, for now, you’re happy to watch as colours explode in the sky above you all. 

If you’d like to read any more of my writings, please visit my masterlist  ♥

[smarchit]

Do No Harm pt 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Read the whole thing on my Ao3 Here!

"Checking in," came Mando's warbled voice over the comm. He'd been checking in every so often throughout the morning, letting Wynn know where he was or who he saw. Sometimes, it was about what he'd bought or to advise her on how many Imps were hanging around. 

It was now early afternoon and hotter than the sun inside the Razor Crest. The ship, unfortunately, had to stay shut off so it wouldn't show up on any maps for those who might be looking. So no cool air was being pumped in, and no hot air was being pumped out. It was torture.

Wynn was laying in the cargo hold of the ship in a thin top, the metal cold against her skin. Her skirt was bunched around her thighs and she prayed to the Maker for a draft of any temperature to make its way through the vents. She had the comm held loosely in her hand as she brought it to her mouth. 

"Roger," she replied sleepily. 

She raised herself up on her elbows to try and see if the Child was still asleep in his pod. She'd stripped him down to a cloth diaper to try and make him more comfortable, and thankfully, he was still sound asleep. It was too hot for the little guy today.

As she lay back down, she closed her eyes and sighed softly. Her mind started to drift away to thoughts of the Mandalorian, of how quiet he was, how strong he could be. She'd seen him haul crates of supplies onto the ramp single-handedly, so she was well aware of his strength. He was a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, sealed with a complicated lock. Secretive and frustrating all at once.

Wynn found herself wondering once again what he might look like. At first, she wasn't sure what to imagine beneath the helmet, if he was even human at all. To be honest, she still wasn't entirely sure. Her mental image of him changed almost daily, though a few days ago, she saw a sliver of the skin at his wrist when he reached overhead for something. Warm, golden skin now occupied her every waking thought. 

The fact that she even saw a mere glimpse of it felt dirty. Like it was a sin to see something that no one else had in so long. 

Her view of it didn't last long, sadly. Mando had handed her the box and shuffled off past her down the narrow hall to the fresher. She still felt the pressure of the beskar on her hip as he brushed against her. 

Brown eyes, Wynn thought to herself as she rested her hand against her stomach. And dark hair. Yes, that fits. Eyes that look right through your soul. 

She shivered slightly despite the heat and pulled her lip between her teeth.

Again, her mind drifted. She thought of the way he looked in the cockpit the night before, those strong thighs spread wide like an invitation, arms relaxed and carefree. She wondered what his gaze looked like beneath the visor. Intense, probably. Everything about him was intense...

Wynn must've drifted off at some point, because the next thing she realized the comm was crackling against her stomach. 

"---alright in there? Wynnlow, open the kriffing door!"

Wynn sprang to her feet and fumbled around in the dark for the button.

"Kriff, s-sorry!" She mentally kicked herself for the way her voice cracked from sleep. "G-gimme a second!"

She felt around for a moment until she touched the wall of the hold and wormed her way around until her fingers hit the "Open Hold" button.

The ship roared and groaned as the hatch opened slowly. The ramp protested loudly as it was lowered to the ground and landed against the sand. 

Mando was standing there before her, shoulders squared defiantly. He passed her and, though she couldn't see his expression, she knew he was glaring at her.

A Guild worker was also with him, a little data pad in hand. He followed Mando and quickly glanced at Wynn, disregarding her with a scoff. He quickly began to get to work on the filled carbonite chambers, counting them off and scanning in band numbers.

Mando set down a sack with a loud thud and picked up the Child. He approached Wynn carefully, his body language less hostile than before. 

Wynn hung her head and placed the comm back in her pocket. She was suddenly acutely aware of just how she was dressed, her thin skirt and top felt vulgar and bare beside his constantly covered form. She always felt exposed with Mando. Like she wasn't wearing enough to mirror his constant state of coverage.

"Are you okay?" he asked, guiding her chin up with one hand. He looked at her face and held her there for a moment to get a good look at her. "You're flushed. Did you get enough water?"

Wynn's throat felt dry, and not due to dehydration. She nodded weakly and reached out to hold onto a stack of crates. 

"I'm alright," she murmured.

Mando lightly gripped her shoulder and guided her to sit on a lower crate. "It was too hot on here today, wasn't it? I'm sorry, I should have known. Next time... I can take you with me."

Wynn blinked at him in the darkness. "Are you sure?"

He nodded once. "Yes. Go wash up in the fresher. I'll unpack the supplies. We need to leave soon."

Mando watched her as she walked towards the ladder, hoping she wouldn't fall over. Once she was out of sight, he looked down at the Child, who cooed and gurgled in his arms.

"Don't you say a word," Mando muttered to the bundle in his arms as he began to unload the crates of supplies.

After a cool shower and a quick snack, Wynn was feeling much less tired and irritable. She pulled on a pair of compression pants and an old shirt of Mando's he'd given her and made her way to the cockpit. 

"May I come in?" she asked softly when she stopped outside the door.

"Yes," Mando replied.

When Wynn shouldered open the door, she saw the blue-white streak of hyperspace outside the window. The Child cooed and gurgled happily from the seat beside his father as he chewed on a toy.

"Where are we going?" Wynn asked as she picked up the Child and sat him in her lap.

"Small system a few cycles from here," he said, his helmet unmoving in her direction. "Somewhere out of the way."

"Why? Is there a bounty there?"

Mando shook his head. "No. I'm trying to find the little one's people. They're somewhere out there and it's my duty to try and find them. This is the Way."

Wynn looked down at the Child and stroked one of his ears. 

"What if you can't find them?"

"Then I keep looking."

"What if you can't find them ever?"

Mando was quiet for a moment before he slowly turned his head to look at the two of them. "Then I take him in as a foundling. Formally. Protect him, train him... for as long as I am able."

It was Wynn's turn to be quiet then. The gentle rush of hyperspace filled the silence between them. The Child had quieted and had settled himself into Wynn's arms to sleep. 

Finally, the silence grew too loud, too oppressive. Wynn had to speak. She'd been considering it for a few days now and was finally ready to make her piece.

"I want you to train me."

Mando's helmet tipped towards her quizzically. "Why?"

"In case something happens," she said, avoiding his gaze. "I want to be able to protect myself and the Child. I want you to train me."

She felt Mando's gaze on her before he looked away, back out into the vast blackness of space. "No."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"I don't have the proper tools to train you," he replied. 

"That's the biggest load of bantha shit I've ever heard and you know it," Wynn said angrily.

Mando sat as still as a statue, brooding and avoiding her withering gaze.

After a moment, Wynn scoffed and unfolded herself from the copilot seat. She thrust the Child back into Mando's arms and stormed out of the cockpit. She slid down the ladder and walked down the hall to her bunk. 

He won't train me. Why won't he train me?! 

Mando sighed when he heard the door to her bunk slam shut. He let his head fall back against the seat while he pondered what she'd asked him. Why would she ask him to train her? Did she feel unsafe? Or did she want to help?

He sighed and switched the ship over to autopilot. He placed the sleeping Child in his pod and stood up. 

As he made his way down to the living quarters, he stopped by the weapons cabinet and picked up a vibrospear. He tested the weight in his hands for a moment and, satisfied, turned towards Wynn's bunk. 

He sighed and knocked on the closed door. 

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah," Wynn muttered from the other side. 

Mando slid open the door and stepped inside. He'd only been in her room for a few moments at a time when she first came on board, when it was barren and cold. Now, medical books were stacked up all over, her bed was neatly turned down. The few clothes she had were hung up neatly on a rack above her cot. She had definitely made herself comfortable. The sight of it caused warmth to bloom across Mando's chest. 

Wynn was standing beside the cot, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hands were hidden by the too-long sleeves of her borrowed shirt. 

Something else fluttered to life deep in the pit of Mando's stomach. He liked how she looked in his clothes. He felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed thickly.

"If you want to train," Mando said, "I'll teach you. We'll start when we land, okay?"

He tossed the spear to her and smiled in spite of himself at the way it clattered to the floor at her bare feet.

"O-okay," she said softly. The expression on her face was one of shock. She bent low to pick up the spear in her hands. "Thank you."

Mando cleared his throat and nodded once. "Yeah. Uh. Good. Have a good night."

She smiled and gave him a little wave. "Have a good, Mando."

[tivaholic4]

NCIS High School: Chapter Eight:

The next day, Tony pulled into Ziva’s driveway. Intent on driving her to school instead of her having to ride the bus or walk. He pulled up, put the car in park and got out. As he made his way to her door he remembered last night and they’re conversation. How beautiful she looked in the moonlight. He hadn’t slept the night before as she filled his mind. Something that had been consistent in the last few days. He walked up to her door and paused for a few seconds. Nervous that she would decline his offer or that she would think it was weird.

As soon as he was about to knock, the door swung open revealing Ziva on the other side. His hand was still in the knocking position as he looked at her. Today she was wearing a pair of blue jeans with a cargo jacket and a black shirt. He assumed this would be something that she normally wore in Israel. She still looked beautiful, no matter what she wore. It was about 2 minutes of him looking at her, with his hand still in the air, that he realized that he was staring. She laughed at his facial expression and his frozen posture. His face flushed red and brought his hand down to rest in his pocket. She let out a chuckle and looked at him with her head cocked to the side.

“I..uh...I was wondering... if you wanted a...ride to...school.” He cursed at himself in his head for how much of an idiot he was. He definitely sounded like one, especially around her. He heard Rivka from what he assumed was the kitchen and then a pot hitting the floor, producing a loud bang noise. Ziva turned quickly and rushed to see if her mother was alright, with Tony right behind her. Even though he didn’t know if he was allowed into her house, he wanted to see if Rivka was okay too. His mother had told him that he had a hero’s complex. That he always wanted to help people.

When they made their way to the kitchen they saw Rivka standing with her hand on her forehead. Ziva moved to her, searching for any possible injuries. She spoke in Hebrew to her mother in company as she wanted to make sure everything was good before switching to English.

“(Ima, are you alright?)” Rivka nodded. Rivka switched to English when she saw Tony standing in the doorway.

“Yes, I am alright. Just dropped the pan.” She turned to Tony and a smile made its way on her face.

“Hello, Tony. Sorry for the mess, we are still getting things put away.” She was referring to the boxes still scattered around the house.

“It’s all good. You should see my house.” He let out a chuckle. His mom and dad normally kept the house clean, but recently everybody had been busy either at work, school or other activities to really clean. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t have a messy room. His mother had always made him keep his room straight. It kind of stuck with him throughout the years. Everybody assumed that since he was a jock there was going to be clothes and things everywhere. But that was just their assumption. Something he laughed at in his head.

At his comment, Rivka smiled and picked up the pan from the ground. Ziva gave him a slight smile and looked down shyly. When Rivka looked back up, she glanced at the clock on the microwave and her eyes went wide.

“You two need to get to school. It’s almost 8:00. Go before you get late.” She practically swatted them out of the house with one of the rags from the kitchen. They made their way out and Ziva started to head towards the sidewalk. Tony stopped in his tracks. Yes, he had a great view of her backside, something that was very much appreciated, but he couldn’t let her walk herself to school when he could drive her. When they were close to being late.

“Hey. I can give you a ride. We’ll get there faster.” Ziva turned around, contemplating her options and figured why the hell not, and made her way to the passenger side of his car. Tony turned the key and the car roared to life. They pulled out of her driveway and pulled up to the school in less than three minutes. They both bolted from the seats, closed the door to the car, and practically ran to their first-period class. Thankfully, they made it with a minute to spare and took their seats. Ziva sat in the seat right next to Tony today, something she quit doing after gym yesterday. Barnes was taking attendance and when he got to Ziva’s name, he mispronounced it. Tony looked up and looked at the man.

“It’s pronounced Dahveed.” He stretched out the name, giving no room for error so the teacher wouldn’t make the mistake again. Ziva turned to look at him as he spoke. She was surprised that he sounded somewhat offended. It was her name, why was he getting bent out of square for it? The teacher nodded at the enthusiastic correction from the student that normally fell asleep in his class, and took in the information as if it was important. He continued down the list and once he was completed, he started their lesson for the day. Several people in the class were looking in their direction. Some glaring, others laughing. The new gossip around the school was that Tony Gibbs had changed. Changed for the new girl. Now they were seeing that it was true. Nobody thought that that would ever change. Some praised him for it, while others started to hate him for it. Not that he cared anyway.

The lesson was actually surprisingly easy for Tony, as he actually made attention to the work. Halfway through the class, Barnes called out that they could complete the rest of the work on their own or they could work with a partner. Ziva was surprised when Tony turned to her and asked if she would be his partner. She gave a slight smile and nodded. They got their work done within 20 minutes, with 15 minutes of class left. They smiled at each other as they looked at each other. Tony couldn’t help but smile. Would it be too early to ask her on a date? Probably as they had been fighting the day before about him being a skirt chaser. He would wait it out. Get to know her better. Let her get to know him better as well. He could ask her to come to their game tomorrow. That wasn’t weird, was it? He didn’t think so. He zoned back in to see Jeanne in the corner whispering to EJ and Zoe and glaring at Ziva. When Jeanne saw that he was looking in that direction, she sat straighter and batted her eyelashes, as if he would drop to his knees for her. No, he wouldn’t. He knew what a real woman was like and she was sitting right next to him. He completely ignored Jeanne’s attempt to get his attention. He looked back at Ziva and smiled at her face. Her nose was scrunched up as she looked at her phone. He noticed it was one of the newer ones that were just released. He knew because he had the same one. And Tim wouldn’t shut up about it.

“You having trouble?” He asked looking at the phone. She looked back up at him with a slight blush on her face.

“Yes. I have never had a phone before. So this is new to me.” Tony looked at her like she was crazy. No phone. A teenager. A teenager with no phone until now. Tony saw this look and gave him a slightly bigger smile.

“My father said that it would interfere with training and language skills. He said it would cause me to be unfocused.” Tony could understand that enough. Apparently Ziva’s dad was a real hardass. Where was he anyway? He had noticed her mother but that was it, did her parents not live together? Was her father still in Israel? Again it was like Ziva could read his mind.

“My father died about 6 months ago. Along with my older brother Ari. It was one of the things that was easier about moving here.” Tony looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. Something Ziva normally didn’t like to see. But with Tony, it made her heart flutter. Not a lot of people have shown genuine care to her in her life. Her mother always had along with her siblings, never her father. It was all about how emotions were a weakness and to never cry as it was a sign that you were the weakest link. Something she never wanted to be.

“I���m sorry to hear that. I couldn’t imagine how hard that would be for you and your mother.” Ziva nodded.

“They were never around because of work. The last needle was when my sister, Tali was killed almost two weeks ago. We wanted to get away from the violence of our country. Get away from the death.” Tony reached over and placed his hand over hers. Squeezing it gently. Giving her a little bit of comfort. Now wasn’t the right time to correct her English. He didn’t know if now was the right time to have this conversation. At the end of math class and sitting at desks. But he let her talk. Something he found himself enjoying. Her voice was soothing. Calming. Something that he could get used to hearing every day. By the time she stopped talking they had moved closer together and were now only about three feet apart. When Tony noticed this, he blushed slightly. No girl had ever made him blush. Had never made him feel butterflies in his stomach. But this was Ziva, he learned in the past few days that she was different, in a good way. He decided he wouldn’t fight the pull that she had on him. Ziva was looking at him in almost the same way. Looking deep into his beautiful green eyes. She was lost in him. Just as he was lost in her.

The bell was what caused them to look away from each other. They both let out a small smile and gathered their things, putting them into their backpacks. They made their way to the door of the classroom, shoulder to shoulder. His shoulder was tingling from hers bumping against his. Little did he know, she felt the same tingle. He didn’t want to walk away from her. He just wanted to stay close and be in their little bubble that nobody else was allowed into. But unfortunately, they had separate classes for this period.

“Do you remember where to go for your next class or do you need me to show you again?” He didn’t want her to get lost, just like he didn’t want her to get lost yesterday. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was jealous when he saw Tim showing Ziva to her last class. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He would never hurt her again.

Ziva knew the way to her next class but she wanted to stay near to Tony. So, she shook her head no, that she needed help finding it again. Something she learned from her father was a photographic memory and a good sense of direction. It had stuck with her since she was around six years old. He nodded his head and smiled, unaware that she was lying about her ability to find her class. They walked again, shoulder to shoulder in the hallway to her Chemistry class, and gained some odd looks from others in the hallway. The walked to her next classroom and he dropped her off and told her he would come after class so they could walk to lunch together. Ziva saw him walk down to the other end of the hallway and then walked into her chemistry class.

Unfortunately, this was the class she shared with the four girls who clearly didn’t like her. She could see them in the back of the class in the corner, whispering to each other and laughing. She took the same seat from yesterday and pulled out her notebook. Chemistry was the type of class that felt like there were endless notes to be written down and remembered. She tuned into the teacher intently and watched as she wrote down things on the whiteboard and thoroughly explained what was being drawn. She liked this teacher. She seemed very kind and seemed like she really cared about the education of her students. About halfway through the class, Ziva felt a buzz in her pocket. She pulled out her new phone and placed it to where the teacher couldn’t see it and saw that it was a text. She didn’t recognize the number. She opened the message and smiled at what she saw.

202-078-1971: Hey, this is Tony. Hope it’s okay I gave you my number. I may have snuck it in when you were having trouble with it.

Ziva (202-112-1982): That is fine, Tony. No trouble at all.

202-078-1971: Oh crap! I gotta go Jacobs saw I had my phone out. Have fun in Chemistry! Lol

Ziva (202-112-1982): See you after class. :)

She didn’t get a reply back which either meant his phone got taken by the teacher or he put it away before he could take it. She noticed that she was still in the clear with her teacher and quickly saved Tony’s number into her phone before putting it back into her pocket. She then tuned back in to see Mrs. Williams handing out a worksheet which she assumed would be today's homework. She had always enjoyed homework. Not because of the work, but because of the distraction it provided from her father. It would be a getaway from her father’s activities. She politely took the piece of paper and saw that it was front and back. Now that she was in America with more freedom, she couldn’t see a reason to enjoy homework. Maybe if it involved Tony. She smiled at that thought. Maybe they could do their homework together. Gosh! Why was she being such a girl? She had never been like this before. She had always put boys last, especially the popular ones. They were always so arrogant and needy where she came from. That seemed to be similar to America. Tony, however, seemed different after he explained himself to her.

The bell rang and her pocket buzzed again. That was...fast.

Tony: I’m in the hallway against the locker. Abby is wondering if you’ll be joining us for lunch. I told her that was up to you.

Ziva smiled at the text. It was sweet but at the same time, friendly. She walked out and saw Tony leaning against the locker just like he said. As she made her way over to him, she could sense someone behind her but shrugged it off seeing as it was a busy hallway. A shoulder collided with hers, shocking her and causing the books in her arm to fall onto the floor. She looked up to see Jeanne and her lackeys laughing as they looked at her and walked away. Tony saw what happened and rushed over to help her pick them up. They both stood up together and were face to face and closer than they expected to be. Tony looked down at her, as there was a significant height difference between them. She was looking up at him and she slightly blushed. Just like Tony, nobody had ever made her blush before. They heard the laughs around them from the fall, but they couldn’t hear them. They were in their world again. Their bubble. After about another minute they both broke eye contact and Ziva stuffed her books into her bag and they headed off to the cafeteria. They were walking closer if that was even possible. She liked being around him. Now that she could see the emotion, what she felt was the real Tony, she felt like she could trust him. She was already starting too.

[omgjasminesimone]

The Hot Exchange Student Part 3

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Previous Part: Part 2

Next Part: Part 4

Author’s Note: This is longer than usual, and I didn’t get as far as I originally wanted to. Hopefully you guys like the longer length! One last RoDAW entry!

Summary: Logan is an exchange student from Detroit a month into his exchange program in L.A. Tensions rise with his detective host father as Logan becomes involved in L.A.’s criminal underbelly, while simultaneously becoming romantically involved with the detective’s daughter.

Word Count: ~4000

For a few moments no one speaks, a silent showdown. Mr. Wheeler is looking at his daughter with his ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ face, but when his stare turns to Logan sitting beside her, his face reads, ‘I’m both mad and disappointed’.

“Where were you guys?” Detective Wheeler finally asks.

“A car show.” Ellie answers.

“I was unaware they had car shows at 11:00 PM on Saturday nights. Did you mean an illegal sideshow?” Detective Wheeler prompts.

Ellie sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Yes.”

Detective Wheeler nods. “Despite the fact that you guys are grounded, and you’re only supposed to leave the house for school or if you’re studying.”  

Ellie deflates further. “…Yes.” She answers when her father looks like he’s waiting for a response.

Detective Wheeler turns his gaze to Logan, who is sitting beside Ellie defiantly, not looking remorseful in the least. “Anything you want to say Logan?” Detective Wheeler asks, narrowed eyes informing Logan that he’s looking for an apology.

He doesn’t get one. “Just that the three week grounding for missing a 10:00 curfew seemed a little excessive to me. Ellie is a good person. You can loosen the leash a little bit.”

Ellie winces at that response. Her dad is going to explode.

The cold, calm anger Detective Wheeler speaks with next is more terrifying than the rare occasions when he’s yelled at her. “You’ve been very disrespectful since you got here Logan. We’ve had several conversations about it, and your behavior has not changed. I think you’re a bad influence on Ellie, and I really don’t like that. If you’re going to live under my roof, you’re going to follow my rules. Otherwise, you can leave my house and go back to Detroit early. Are we clear?”

This is the first time Detective Wheeler has actually threatened to kick Logan out of the house. Logan’s jaw clenches as he fights his desire to retort. He chances a quick look at Ellie before he nods. “Crystal.”

“Good. I also want to speak to your parents about your behavior.” Detective Wheeler adds, leaning back in his recliner.

Logan hesitates, taking a breath before he finally speaks. “I can give you my current foster father’s phone number if you really want it, but I can promise you he’s not going to care. And most of the time his phone doesn’t work because he spends his whole social security check on beer before paying the bill.” Logan reveals.  

Foster care. That explains a lot. The lack of belongings. His aversion to parental authority. His ‘situation’ in Detroit. Ellie feels bad for him, but she tries to fight down that feeling. She knows Logan well enough to know that he doesn’t want her pity. That’s probably why he never told her.

“I’d still like his number.” Detective Wheeler says, pulling out his address book while Logan goes through his phone to pull up his contacts. Logan recites the number, and Detective Wheeler writes it down. “I’ll call him tomorrow since it’s so late, even later Central time. You guys should get to bed too.”

Ellie looks at her dad suspiciously. That’s it? Ellie starts to get up, but then her father speaks again.

“By the way, you guys are grounded for another 3 weeks. And this time, I mean it.”

…

..

.

Ellie’s phone pings as she and Logan watch a movie on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. She sits up to grab it from the coffee table. It’s a text from her dad.

Dad: Peace signs by the refrigerator.

“Logan, peace signs by the refrigerator.” Ellie reports, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. Logan follows behind her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“This is so stupid.” He complains as they pose for the selfie. Ellie sees he’s flipping a bird in her camera screen as she prepares to take the photo.

“Logan.” She admonishes, so he lifts his index finger as well to make the peace sign her father has requested.

To enforce his grounding when he’s away at work, Ellie’s father requests specific poses somewhere in the house. That way, he knows they’re home like they’re supposed to be. This is their last day of grounding, but it hasn’t been all bad.

Ellie has gotten a lot of studying done over the three weeks, and more importantly, she’s had a lot of quality time to spend with Logan. He’s more open with her now, since he’s not trying to hide his background anymore.

Logan told her that he was born in prison. That he doesn’t know who his father is. That his mom is still in jail for all he knows, they’ve never had any contact.

He told her about his current foster father, an alcoholic with 6 foster kids in a small three bedroom trailer. Logan shares a small bedroom with a 15 year old foster brother, who Logan simply describes as ‘troubled’. Despite this, he tells her it’s actually one of his better placements.

That’s why when his high school counselor told him about the opportunity for a full ride scholarship for the exchange program, he jumped on it.

 (“She’s straight out of college. So she’s not jaded yet, she still cares.” Logan scoffs, drawing skulls on the toes of his chucks as they hang out on the porch. “That won’t last long.”)

Another reason why the grounding hasn’t been all bad is because they’ve found creative ways to work around it. Ellie and Logan signed up for an after school SAT prep class, and Logan convinced her to lie to her father about what time it ends, giving them 2 hours of free time each day after school. Well, Logan has 4 hours of free time because he doesn’t actually go to the class. She’s not sure exactly what he’s doing, he’s very vague about it when she asks.

Ellie feels bad about lying, she didn’t habitually lie to her father before Logan got here, but she does enjoy those 2 hours with Logan. Sometimes, they go to the beach. Or that diner she loves with Riya and Darius. But usually, that time is dedicated to driving practice. Ellie really want to pass her license test.

Since they’re already in the kitchen, Ellie pops another bag of popcorn before they return to the couch. “Do you feel ready for your driving test tomorrow?” Logan asks, watching her instead of the cheesy horror movie.

“I think I am.” She smiles up at him. “You’ve taught me well.”

..

Hmm, what to wear. Ellie is looking for an outfit that says, hey, this girl is a competent driver who totally deserves a license. She settles on a denim skirt and a white shirt that hangs off her shoulders. She’s putting her long hair into her usual braid when Logan knocks.

“Hey troublemaker. Change of plans. I’m sorry, but I can’t take you to your test. Something important came up.” He takes in her outfit. “Wow, you look great.”

She’s too annoyed with him to be flustered at the compliment. “What do you mean you can’t take me? I can’t ask my dad and rescheduling with the DMV would be an absolute nightmare.”

“You can take the car, just drive yourself.” Logan underhand tosses her the keys.

She catches them with both hands, “But, I don’t have my license! It’s illegal for me to drive by myself.”

“Just don’t get pulled over on the way there and you’ll be fine. You’re definitely going to pass. Come here, good luck hug, not that you need it.”

She wants to ask him what he’s doing that’s so important, but she doubts he would tell her. So she just walks over and hugs him. He smells really good. Like, vanilla-y? She tightens her grip around his muscled chest, burying her face into his shirt.

“Text me when you’ve passed.” Logan says as he pulls away after one last squeeze.

She is even more of a stickler for the rules than she usually is as she drives to the DMV, cars behind her getting annoyed with her since she’s actually under the speed limit. But she doesn’t get pulled over, and when she finishes her test the instructor says she’s the best beginner he’s ever seen. She’s passed.

Ellie smiles for her new license photo, and once it’s printed she takes a photo of the freshly minted license and texts it to Logan. He replies right away.

Logan: congrats!!

Logan: knew u could do it troublemaker

Ellie: Thank you! I’m very excited, if you couldn’t tell from the big cheesy grin on my license photo. :D

Ellie: Where are you? I can come pick you up, we can get a celebratory late lunch/early dinner.

The three dots indicating that Logan is typing starts, stops, and then starts again as he probably writes and deletes a message.

Logan: I’m actually at a drive-in movie theater

Logan: come meet me troublemaker 😉

His next text includes an address on Rosecrans. Ellie plugs it into her phone and takes her first licensed solo drive.

..

Ellie wanders the parking lot on foot. Logan told her to park on the street (they charge by car), and that she’s looking for a white van. But there are a lot of cars here. She looks around helplessly, pulling out her phone to text Logan again.

“You lost, sweetheart?”

Ellie turns to see who would use sweetheart in such a condescending manner. She’s met with a boy who looks to be around her age, dark hair, even darker eyes, dressed in a leather jacket and carrying a tub of popcorn. He seems  familiar for some reason.

“Maybe a little lost. Logan’s directions were a little vague.” She admits.

“Aah, you must be Ellie. Logan said you were coming.” He looks her up and down. “What is a girl like you doing hanging out with a lowlife like Logan?” Before Ellie can say anything in Logan’s defense, the boy walks off. Ellie assumes she should follow him.

He stops in front of an old white cargo van, opening the sliding door. Inside there’s Logan, a man with long hair, prominent neck tattoos, and glasses, an extremely tall woman, and another woman with long black hair and a piercing gaze all resting on bean bag chairs in the back.

“Hey Ellie, you made it.” Logan says, taking her hand to help her into the van. “Ellie, this is Toby, Ximena, Mona, and Colt.”

Toby and Ximena both give her a welcoming smile, while Mona just looks at her appraisingly. “Take a seat Ellie! Or you’re going to miss the best part!” Toby warns, eyes returning to the screen.

Ellie squeezes onto Logan’s bean bag chair, leg flush against his. “How’d you meet your friends?” She asks Logan softly.

“I wouldn’t say they’re my friends. Just coworkers I get along with. Well, I don’t always get along with Colt. But he’s just visiting Kaneko over his Fall Break.” Logan answers.

Ahh, so that’s why Colt looked familiar, he’s Kaneko’s son. Ellie’s brow furrows as she goes over the rest of his statement. “Coworkers? You have a job?”

His eyes widen slightly at his slip up. He gives her a measured glance, as if he’s deciding how much he should tell her. “I’m doing some work for Kaneko.”

Ellie’s blood runs cold, remembering how everyone feared Kaneko. Knowing that whatever work Kaneko is offering is probably criminal. What has Logan gotten himself into? “What kind of work?” She presses.

“Shh you two! Blown Gasket is playing!” Toby chastises, looking at the screen raptly during a car chase scene.  

Ellie shuts up, but not before giving Logan a look that clearly says the discussion isn’t over.

Colt scoffs at Toby’s enthusiasm. “Calm down Toby. You’ve only seen this stupid movie fifty times.”

“No one forced you to come Kaneko Jr.” Mona retorts, not even bothering to turn away from the screen to look at Colt.

“My dad wanted everyone out of the garage while he does whatever he’s doing, especially me.” Colt replies.

Logan leans over slightly to whisper in Ellie’s ear, not wanting Toby’s wrath. “Does your dad know where we are?”

“I just told him we’re out with friends. We’re not grounded anymore, so he was fine with it.” Ellie whispers back.

Half an hour later, Ellie finishes the last of the popcorn in the extra large tub. She starts to put the empty tub down on the floor, when Ximena interjects. “Nuh uh sweetie. Whoever finishes it gets the next refill.”

Toby gives Ellie a $100 bill. “Does anyone have anything smaller?” Ellie asks, standing from the bean bag chair and heading for the door.  

“Nope.” Mona responds, opening the door for Ellie.

Ellie is walking across the lot towards the concession stand when suddenly someone steps in front of her, blocking her path. Ellie looks up and is met with Salazar’s smirking face. “I can’t believe it, real nice of you to join us.” Salazar sneers.

“Salazar…” Ellie mumbles, dropping the popcorn bucket and turning around to head back to the van when Salazar steps towards her menacingly. Ellie’s escape path is cut off by the same four goons who had accompanied Salazar when he lost the race.

“I heard the Mercy Park Crew was hanging around here, came to see for myself.” He spits out when he reaches her. Mercy Park Crew? Ellie has no idea what he’s talking about. “Your boyfriend owes me money for what he did, lots of it.”

“You lost the race. You both agreed on the terms.” Ellie mutters weakly, looking around for a possible escape but finding nothing.

“I don’t remember him stealing the opportunity I had with Kaneko being one of the terms. I worked hard to build respect in the streets, to make a name for myself, and now some punk kid shows up and gets everything handed to him? That’s bullshit.” He turns to the biggest goon. “Grab her. He’ll pay to get her back.”

“No!” Ellie tries to fight off the heavily tattooed man gripping her arm roughly, but he’s twice her size so she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Get away from her. You got a problem with me, you leave her out of it.” Logan’s voice has a dangerous edge to it that Ellie has never heard before. The goon looks to Salazar, waiting for a small nod, before releasing her.

Ellie quickly retreats to Logan’s side, and he gently pushes her behind him. Salazar smirks, eyeing Logan venomously. “Now it’s a party.”

The goons close in, encircling Logan. Logan clenches his fists, gearing up for a fight.

“No, Logan! You can’t fight them five on one. We need to run.” Ellie reasons.

He briefly turns to look at her, his gaze hard. “You need to run. Now.” He swings his fist at the nearest goon, rocking his jaw.

That goon goes down, clutching his jaw, but one of the others cries “Get him!”, and the remaining goons and Salazar attack all at once. Ellie doesn’t run as instructed, instead she looks on worriedly as Logan fights like an animal, punching, grappling, slamming.

Her heart hurts a little as she wonders where he learned to fight like this. Was it a particularly abusive group home? Out on the streets of Detroit? He holds his own for a while, but eventually he can’t fend them all off and they get him down to the ground.

“You piece of shit.” Salazar sneers, kicking Logan hard in the ribs, again, and again. Ellie can’t take anymore, so she grabs a forgotten pipe on the asphalt as she runs towards the melee.

“Stop it!” She cries, swinging as hard as she can into Salazar’s back. He topples over with a grunt.

Salazar glares at her. “You little bitch.” Logan takes advantage of Salazar being momentarily preoccupied, kicking straight into one of the goon’s chin. He falls with a yelp. But another goon grabs Ellie, throwing her roughly into a car door. Ellie feels a searing pain from her forehead, raising her hand to grasp at it. When she brings her hand back down, there’s blood on her palm. “Nnh.” She mutters weakly, putting both hands to the asphalt in an attempt to get back to her feet.

“Ellie!” Logan exclaims. He’s covered in bruises, but he tries to push himself up anyway. He is quickly beaten back down.

Salazar gets to his feet, dusting himself off. “You don’t know who you messed with.” He threatens, readying to stomp down on Logan.

Suddenly, a razor sharp knife flicks to Salazar’s throat, Mona appears behind him with Toby, Colt, and Ximena, all looking very threatening. Ellie is surprised Toby can pull off such a menacing look.

“Do you?” Mona asks, allowing the blade to dig in a little more. Salazar lowers his foot, putting his hands up, knowing he’s been beaten. “Don’t show your faces here again.” Mona threatens, shoving Salazar away. Salazar glares at Ellie and Logan one more time before stalking away, his injured goons following behind him.

Colt offers Logan a hand up. “You’re pretty lucky I saved your ass, huh? Pshh…and dad thinks you could replace me.”

Logan ignores Colt’s hand, getting up on his own. “Funny, I don’t feel too lucky right about now. Where’s Ellie?”

“Logan!” Ellie runs to the group, taking Logan’s face into her hands and gently examining the bruising, the worst of it around his right eye, which is swollen shut. He smiles weakly at her, apologetically. Ellie sighs, gently rubbing her thumb on his cheek. “We need to get you home Logan.”

She turns towards the others. “Thank you for saving him.”

Colt smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Consider it Mercy Park Crew community service.”

…

..

.

“Ellie? Logan?” Her dad’s voice carries from the kitchen as Ellie opens the front door and the door alarm chimes shortly.

“Hey Dad, we’re home.” Ellie calls back, trying to tug Logan up the stairs before her dad sees his bruises, which will no doubt lead to questions they’re unprepared to answer.

“Dinner is almost ready!” Her dad calls back. The smell of his home made spaghetti permeates the air.

“Okay! We’ll be down shortly!” Ellie yells from the top of the stairs, pulling Logan into his room. She pulls the door almost closed behind them, leaving it open just a crack. That’s another one of her dad’s rules, she and Logan aren’t allowed to be in a room together with the door closed.

Ellie pulls the first aid kid from the closet. “Sit.” She commands, so Logan takes a seat on his bed. Ellie turns the lamp beside the bed on, bathing Logan in its soft glow. For the first time she sees how badly injured he is. She sighs, taking a seat beside him. “You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble for me.”

“What are you talking about? They never would have gone after you if it wasn’t for me. So yes, I did” Logan insists. Ellie tenderly touches Logan’s face, and he tries to hide his wince, but she sees it. He places his hand over hers before she can pull back. “I’m fine Ellie. I’ve been in worse fights. They only got a few licks in.”

They clearly got more than a few licks in, but Ellie doesn’t argue with him. Instead, she opens the first aid kit. She remembers watching Salazar kick him in the ribs, knowing they’re probably seriously injured. “Can you take off your shirt?” She asks softly.

He peels off the white t-shirt, wincing a little at the movement, and tosses the shirt to the floor. He keeps the spark plug necklace he’s always wearing on.

She’s felt how toned he is when they’ve hugged, but it’s an entirely different experience to see all his taut muscles exposed in the low light of the lamp. But before she can become too distracted by his amazing body and six pack abs, she notices the dark purple bruising all over his sides. And beneath that, the scars from the car accident he told her about when he was teaching her to drive, making her promise to always be in control.    

Ellie grabs the peroxide from the kit and dabs it on a long gash running down his collarbone. “Fuck, that stings.” Logan complains, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries not to pull away from her.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes, placing a soft kiss to the tan skin near the gash without even thinking about it. But she notices his soft intake of breath and realizes what she just did. She slowly raises her gaze to meet his.

Something electric passes between them, and then Logan’s eyes go up further, to the cut on her forehead. He pushes her hair out of her face and traces it, his touch gentler than she could ever expect from the same boy she saw just a half hour earlier fighting the goons so viciously.

“You’re hurt.” He observes.

“I’m fine. You’re the one who’s hurt.” She retorts, knocking his hand aside and getting back to her task of bandaging up the cut.

He shakes his head softly, watching her as she starts to bandage up his ribs. “You should have run Ellie. Why didn’t you run like I told you to?” Logan admonishes.

“I couldn’t just leave you there Logan.”

“You have to. You have to be able to leave me Ellie. Otherwise…” He trails off, turning away from her.

“Otherwise what? Logan?” When he still doesn’t respond, she puts both hands on his face and forces him to make eye contact. “What are you trying to tell me Logan?” She asks softly, looking deeply into his brown eyes.

Suddenly, he surges forward, lips capturing hers in a searing kiss.

Oh my God, he’s kissing her. She’s having her first kiss. She’ll have to call Riya later, her long-time best friend will want to know about this. Logan’s hands tangle in her hair, tilting her head as he attempts to deepen the kiss. Ellie doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she starts to put them on his strong bare shoulders, but chickens out at the last moment and let’s them fall back to her sides.

Wait, he’s licking at her lips now. Does that mean something? Does he want her to open her mouth? Is she ready for that? What if she’s a bad kisser? Is she totally embarrassing herself?  

Logan pulls away from her lips, resting his forehead against hers as both of their eyes open. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I overthink everything.”

Logan smiles softly at that response, giving her a quick peck. “Just relax. Do what feels natural. Trust me Ellie, there’s nothing you can do that I won’t like.” He closes his eyes and kisses her again, and Ellie takes his advice. She doesn’t think, she does what feels natural. Ellie’s hands trail up his arms to loop around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. He opens his mouth, and because of the way their wet lips are staggered, her mouth opens too, allowing him to slip his tongue in.

It’s an unfamiliar sensation, but she decides she likes it. She tentatively circles his tongue with her own, and he hums appreciatively. Despite his injuries, he pulls her onto his lap, letting her straddle him. He pulls back to give her time to breathe, kissing down her neck and across her collar bone.  

She tangles her fingers in his hair. It’s as soft as she always imagined it would be. Logan’s name escapes her lips on a breathy sigh as he sucks on her collar bone, marking her. He returns to her lips, kissing her more forcefully, hand pressed to her lower back to pull her even closer.

“Dinner!” Detective Wheeler calls from downstairs, causing the two teens to quickly spring away from each other, remembering where they are.

“We can’t let him see you like this. I’ll tell him you’re tired and skipping dinner. I’ll bring up your food later. Hopefully your eye will be less swollen tomorrow, we’ll put some concealer on your bruises.” Ellie plans out loud.

Logan smiles softly, really wanting to kiss her again. “Sounds like a plan troublemaker.” She turns to head downstairs. “Wait!” Logan calls out, reaching for her hand. He gently pulls her back to him and tugs her shirt up a little, covering the hickey forming on her collar bone. “Okay, you can go now.”

…

..

.

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[disastertealeaf]

mighty nein fashion sense: modern au [updated]

based on this old post!

fjord:

probably dresses up like trucker ngl (but not really.)

probably looks like he buys clothes from american eagle and only ae

bought all the clothes in the closet knowing that all of them will match

that being said, he loves to layer his clothes

see him in a lot of flannel and denim with plain t-shirts

tan pants? better than he thought

hes probably got loafers or some kind of practical work shoe

summertime? hes takin out the short sleeve button up shirts. no one will stop him

ironically owns a hawaiian shirt

looks GREAT in a suit and he knows it

lady-killer

a pretty boy

caleb:

ever seen a college disaster in the winter?? that’s caleb

his clothes are old, and theyre never really out of style because he tries to buy clothes like that (hes a man of classic apparel)

kind of guy to have a set of monochrome t-shirts that he uses a lot because he cant be bothered to do clothes shopping

the black ones have faded a lot

TURTLENECKS

scarves

slacks!!! and classic belts. ge discovered that it’s easier to clean up a look with minimal effort.

has a leather bomber with the same interior as his coat in canon. it is used almost everyday

if he ever needs to look scholarly hes got it covered but its only one set of clothes and he doesnt really like it because he hasnt bought a new one in a while

the scholarly look is actually just a sweatervest with a button-up shirt and maybe a tie? with leather wingtips

style over comfort to the max (he cannot find it in himself to try everyday when he has more important things to focus on)

mollymauk:

hes fashionable. end of story

hes got slacks in so many colors and patterns.

hes got so many patterned buttonups that he will never fully button (probably just buttons up to his navel and quits)

he probably dresses up in different eras every day

HIGH WAISTED SHORT SHORTS WITH FISHNETS

he does not give a Shit about what society thinks is “feminine” or “masculine”. he will do whatever the fuck he wants to

definitely wears skirts for this reason

he loves to experiment with clothes….. he has so many

probably has one of every type of shoe to try and match his outfits

jewelry is a must!! probably has bought a lot of clip on earrings or has a lot of ear piercings. or just accessories in general. he loves bein flashy

knee high boots are still a thing but shhh those are for very special nights out in town (which is every night in his opinion. just let him live)

if hes trying to be discreet catch him in a burgundy peacoat

beauregard:

shes got the gym look down

basically only owns clothes in her dnd color palette

greenish blue windbreakers on chilly days

workout leggings and sweatpants ALMOST ALL THE TIME not that anyone is complaining

shes got a few pairs of destroyed denim jeans and shorts and they look really good

she just feels like the pants are restricting because she needs to be ready to Throw Down

sleeveless shirts! big arm cutouts! tank tops! racerbacks! all of them have graphic designs

probably just goes out in a sports bra and a hoodie if shes really not feeling it

sunglasses. she looks so good in them.

shes got a pantsuit hidden deep deep DEEP in her closet for special occasions (would rather not wear it)

jester:

skirts!!!! dresses!! yes!! a lot of a line dresses and skirts

shes got a closet of pastel because she looks good in every shade

probably loves knee high socks

shes got those small backpacks in pastel pink she will not leave her house without it

really loves floral designs imo

hot take: she is into embroidery and loves making her own style out of ordinary clothes

high waisted denim shorts WITH FISHNETS. molly roped her into it and she loves it

u know those shirts that button up but u can tie them in the front?? she likes those a lot

off the shoulder shirts too

oversized things!! hit her with an oversized sweater or sweatshirt on a casual day or a lazy day (please take care of it fjord we beg u)

loves loves loves!!! designing her own shoes

she likes to buy paint sets and go to town on some plain shoes and give it her own artistic touch OR she will embroider it

always about her most recent obsession

catch her with some tusk love themed shoes

hair accessories!! lots of bows and headbands

yasha:

practical attire!! if the apocalypse came today, she would be ready

cargo pants (shes got 50 pockets or something)

i can see her owning a lot of heavy jackets (perhaps a parka?)

combat boots are a must. or sneakers but u know combat boots make her looks cleaner

plain t shirts or tank tops (really complements her arms)

monochrome at almost all times or navy blue

will occasionally just come out in gym attire. leggings and a tank top ?? yes PLEASE

probably a former goth u can find her stuff in a storage bin in her garage or something (molly always tries to find it)

probably has a holster bag on top of her many pockets

nott:

master of nondescript clothes

earthy colors are her favorite

discovered that people wear masks in other countries and she hasnt gone back since

plain hoodies!! bomber jackets!! she likes them

sweatpants with those cuffs at the bottom!

tbh she doesnt have too many demands when shes getting clothes…. they just cant be expensive or flashy because she’d rather blend in

loves goodwill. that is probably the only store she goes to for clothes because she is Frugal

she wears converses that are Pretty Old but she takes care of them so they last a while

i want to believe that she hides a fanny pack under her jacket to conceal stolen goods

caduceus:

his clothes are the most true to canon

he does not own one silk shirt. he owns enough to last him a month. he also has a lot of cotton shirts

mainly in floral designs or solid earthy tones + various shades of forest green

slacks in that deep green he always wears

bluchers or open laced dress shoes! or his boots from canon

he accents all of his outfits with some kind of leather (usually its on his belt, but he has bracelets and other accessories to make it work too)

he knows how to use a monochrome green palette perfectly

he looks business casual half of the time

if hes going casual, it’s camo time.

heavy army green jacket with patches that jester made + any v-neck t-shirt he owns

if hes really not feeling it on a particular day, he will wear harem pants and a fruit of the loom shirt that he stuffed into a drawer in his wardrobe

his style is the softest in the nein in terms of his usual everyday wear

[thewitchqueen281]

Experiment 808 AU

Hey so I did actually have someone show some interest in this AU, but I’m awful at formatting so I'm just making a separate text post. Read about each character under the cut. A bit about the setting. It’s pretty distant future, this big lab in the middle of the city was commissioned to make a ton of super soldiers. Not knowing where to start they just... started kidnapping kids. Like from their cribs and everything. Not legal but they can like start from scratch there. By the time most of them are ten they’ve been tortured and beaten and do not want to be there. So they just escape. Because like what are they going to do to stop a bunch of kids with powers.  They run free into the city. They stay hidden in bunkers and hideouts. They are all about 15~16 ish. I haven't decided whether or not Al is still a year younger or if they are twins so, for now, its up too you. 

Anyway, enjoy these stupid teens.

Ed 

Has gills on his neck and sides, and dragonfly wings.

the wings are red and while he can fly fast can’t fly for a very long time. 

Instead of his traditional black tank top and coat, he wears one of those knit sleeveless turtleneck things with his red coat that ties around in the front.

Anyone with gills is bioluminescent underwater, he glows red in his face and all around his arms.

he wears a different outfit because it hides his wings and his gills. 

still kind of a little shit. 

knows all the other kids, is friends with most of them surprisingly. 

lives with his brother, Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeyes, and Denny Brosh in an abandoned library on the west side of the city. Because they are the kids he trusts the most.

he would live with Ling, Lan Fan, and Winry. But Ling and Lan Fan don't really live anywhere and Winry travels between all the kid's hideouts making sure they didn't break anything.

Likes knives, like really really likes knives

has like twenty on him at all times. 

he actually meets Ling by throwing a knife at him and getting really pissed that he missed. 

Roy Mustang 

Has a salamander tail, sometimes breaths a small bit of fire. 

Doesn't really like people at all. 

is four ten and has a lisp and you can pry this headcanon away from my cold dead hands. 

frequent all-nighters, whether playing video games or trying to master fire breath. 

Wears really baggy cargo pants, he likes the pockets. 

has a haircut with two very long pieces of hair in the front and kinda shitty bangs. 

he regrets this haircut. 

he’s best friends with Riza and Ed because Riza and Ed are also wild kids who won't stop him from jumping off really high places or putting bugs in Al’s tea. 

Likes lollypops, no one is sure why he just thinks they taste nice. 

huge crush on Jean Havoc from the group uptown, The others make fun of him. 

Riza Hawkeye 

Has a cheetah tail and likes to R U N

She's a very fast girl, for a long time everyone thought that was one of the abilities given to her during her time in the lab.

it's not  

she just likes to run. 

despite being a wild teen is the second most sensible one in their group. Has had to drag Roy to bed, but almost everyone has had to do that once or twice.

cant cook for shit. like really. she hates cooking shes so bad at it. 

everyone expects her to be the mom for some reason like they think she cooks and cleans. 

shed rather die, Ed cooks, they take shifts cleaning.

loves long skirts and horror novels. 

likes to think she can talk to ghosts or summon demons. 

or maybe she can. 

nobody really knows. 

Talks to herself on occasion. 

Al 

Has gills like his brother. Very small antlers as well.

glows blue underwater near his ears and around his legs. He and his brother have matching symbols on their backs.  

wears a blue hoodie to cover the antlers. 

The actual Mom Friend TM 

Enjoys tea and not having to deal with his brother and CO’s bullshit. 

for once would like to sleep in. just once. 

Would be a wine mom but he is responsible and doesn't drink while underage, unlike almost all of his friends who really don't seem to give a shit.

Sassy, like, really sassy. 

bad at hiding his emotions. 

you will know when he thinks your being a dumbass.

*looks into the camera like he's on the office* 

“Al me and the others are going to jump off the top of the building and see with we can stop ourselves.” “Good luck brother.”

Is friends with everyone and really he loves them all but goddamn. 

One time Ed dated a real shit head and you don't want to know what happened after he dumped Ed. he isn't dead but he won't be walking anytime soon.

Denny Brosh

Has Squid tentacles under his arms and fins on his legs. He glows a bright yellow underwater. 

Knits, like a lot. Every one of them has a homemade sweater from him. the others he lives with wear theirs all the time. Because they do gross things like care about one another in this household. 

Is still really good friends with Maria Ross, he wishes they saw each other more. 

can and will shock you with his tentacles, especially if you make jokes about them. 

Meme dream team leader. 

Al doesn't understand memes and Denny hurts every day because of this. 

has a bright yellow sweater that he knitted himself and then had every single one of his friend sign.

Thinks Kain Furey is super cute. Roy thinks he's super gross because Furey is an innocent Denny!

wholesome meme some days sex jokes on others. 

pretty much all the kids have pretty severe mental health issues, but Denny is one of the few who has tried to help his. 

takes anxiety meds. 

while he doesn't have any sibling this timeline he has his friends and honestly they are pretty close to siblings. 

has called Ed big brother but like everyone has once or twice. Ed doesn't really give a shit and has accepted his fate as the oldest and apparently the most brother like. 

Maria Ross 

Lots a scales, like all over her body. 

has wings but she isn't sure what animal they could be from.

they are big and scaley like her. 

Lives with Olivier, Mei Chang, Sheska, and Winry Rockbell when she's around. They live in an old dinner on the east side of town. 

Would date Sheska 100%. 

Sorta has claws, doesn't matter she enjoys painting them. 

Good friends with Olivier, actually best friends. This is a problem in some ways because Olivier and Denny don’t get along at all. 

Has a gun, only used it once or twice to protect her friends. 

she hopes she never has to use it again.

Sometimes wonders what her family would be like if she hadn't grown up in a lab. Wonders whether of not her family sold her or if she was stolen. She wonders for the other kids as well.

Breaths and cries ice. 

prefers if her friends called her Ria 

Olivier Armstrong  

This bitch got bat wings

they are fucking huge. 

she can’t really hide them so she only goes outside at night. 

she has become a cryptid. 

blurry shitty pictures of her crouching on buildings wings extended, her eyes glowing are all over forums. 

Batgirl strikes again?? 

she thinks its super funny. 

Doesn't really try to hide how she's feeling. 

most of the time she’s Arragont or amused.

Anime character tch. 

Her list of people she dislikes is bigger than the list of people she likes. 

that's a lie she loves all her friend's

she’s just bad about showing it and claims to hate them. 

everyone calls her Livi. 

she hates it but nobody cares. 

keeps her hair in a ponytail.

Mei Chang

has a cat tail, and night vision.

Please don't make any jokes. 

she doesn't want this.

People sometimes pull her tail. they only pull it once though. People learn from their mistakes.

wears a big pink coat with lots of pockets. she keeps both dead mice and her kunai in the pockets. 

Is Winrys assistant when she's around.

loves to help. is crushing on Al from the west side library. Everyone knows but Al. Ed and Ling think that is hilarious. Like it didn't take them months to get over themselves. 

Ling is her half-brother. She isn't sure how trustworthy the info is because it’s something she heard from lab technicians. 

Wants to learn to fight better but nobody wants to spar with her. 

Sit’s up at night and stares at her coffee. 

it’s cold now but she can’t get to sleep. 

Winry Rockbell 

Has butterfly wings, emperor butterfly wings. They don't make her as fast as Ed but it is faster to fly than to walk and she can fly for pretty long periods of time.

automail isn't really a thing. So Winry does general doctor stuff.

she goes between bases and makes sure that everybody is healthy. 

most of the time that isn't the case so shes pretty much always working.

Thinks Mei is a wonderful helper.  

Wears her signature tube top. doesn't travel through populated areas and definitely doesn't by day.

Butterflygirl isn't as cool as a cryptid as Batgirl so she doesn't get much coverage. 

Will still hit you with a wrench don't test her. 

She carries it and her entire toolbox because she’ll be damned if she loses time for her machines while helping out these idiots.

Dating Mothman. 

Mothman is actually Lan Fan. this joke doesn't make a lot of sense to her because Lan Fan doesn't have moth wings. Ling and Ed tell her to shut up and go with it. She rolls her eyes fondly. 

Kain Fuery 

Has ant antenna. he can send messages across radio waves because of this. makes it easy to keep up with his friends. 

Lives with Jean and Rebbeca in what they think was once a club. It's unused now but it does have an underground bunker for some reason.

He is an innocent 

(He isn't) 

keeps a picture of some dog in his pocket. 

he needs it to keep up morale. 

yes, it is just a stock photo of a dog that he stole out a picture frame at wallmart a couple years ago.

He really likes animals. Ed and Roy hate going out with both him and Al in a pair because both of them insist on stopping to pet every dog and cat or whatever animal.

Functional Bi 

Jean Havoc  

Has fins he thinks. they are like spiky and help him swim better. they are all over his back and wrap around his arms. Has gills, and he tends to glow a bluish purple.  

he lives in the club but prefers to be near the docks. 

Loves to swim

Just call him Jean

Please god just call him Jean. 

Olivier and Maria butchered his last name so bad when he first meet him that he is permanently traumatized. 

he’s being dramatic but like, that's who he is??

Disaster Bi 

Pinning? His constant mood?

Ling Yao

Red panda tail and claws. 

Loves sweet things, like so much.

Can see in the dark, loves his night vision

Thinks Ed throwing knives at him is super hot

Ed is Concerned TM 

Doesn't really live anywhere. 

bounces around the bases with Lan Fan. 

Lan Fan is actually his twin sister but they haven't told Mei that yet.

he doesn't know why people don't just know.

Climbs in Ed’s window in the middle of the night. 

freaked Ed out the first time it happened but he got used to it. 

spars on rooftops in the middle of the day. 

For some reason, nobody seems to freak out. 

Kink is love and appreciation

doesn't actually know most of the other kids. Sometimes there will just be a different kid at the base and He’ll be like cool.

Everone knows about Ling though. 

Lan Fan

She has lunar moth wings. Although Winry seems to think they are from some type of butterfly like her. Ed and Ling know the truth and call her moth man. 

She flicks their faces for it. 

loves food. thinks it must be because lunar moths cant eat, that side of her wants to eat E V E R Y T H I N G. 

Or maybe she just has a huge appetite because Ling eats a ton as well. 

has night vision as well.

Is her last name Fan? Not even she knows. 

Everyone calls her Lan Fan though. 

Spars with Ling but prefers fighting with Ed because Ling holds back. Ed doesn't.

tries so hard not to scream at her friends. 

god, she tries so hard. 

This took so long. If you want to hear about specific characters request it and I’ll make another one of these. If anyone wants to write a fanfic send it to me, I’ll be the first one to kudos that ish.  

[gothify1]

Meet Lauren, Who What Wear's fashion editor  and the co-founder of The Devils Wear Zara . Lauren is so obsessed with Zara that we started calling her  the Zara Scout . Now she's turning the nickname into a franchise so she can regularly share her insider knowledge of the brand, including all her hacks, secrets, and must-haves with you. We often talk about trends as if they are easy to pull off so long as you buy the right things. While that sentiment is not wrong, we often ignore how wearing certain trends will make you feel . Trends like animal print and statement sweaters are typically no-brainers when it comes to styles we're willing to try, but throw something like neon and slime green  into the mix, and suddenly we're not feeling so confident. Assuming you probably feel some type of way as well, we did what we do best—went to Zara and tried on all these weird trends so you don't have to . As you probably know, we view Zara as the best place to test out rising trends for the clothes are affordable and they churn out new trends at the speed of light. Here, Mimi and I will walk you through our semi-traumatic Zara dressing room experiences coming at you all the way from L.A. and NY and show you which pieces we actually ended up falling in love with. "I've been really nervous to buy into the neon trend, so I'd rather test the water with more affordable pieces first. This neon corduroy 'shacket (shirt + jacket) was honestly so cool. It would look good over a black turtleneck, tied around your waist, or buttoned all the way up as its own shirt. Even though it was nearly blinding, this piece was surprisingly wearable."  "Thanks to Man Repeller's Harling Ross, there's a new outfit phenomenon going around that she so cleverly coined as the 'stick of butter' look. Into it. I feel like the neutral monochromatic vibe just elevates your look. This sweater has super-oversize sleeves, but the pants dress it up a bit. I'm okay with looking like food, I guess." "For some reason, I'm always attracted to clothes that look like the Grinch's body, and this green fleece coat was no exception. Soft to the touch and incredibly warm, I say why not opt for this weird color instead of the camels and blacks that everyone usually chooses when it comes to this coat style?"  "People will either think this hoodie is dope as hell or totally heinous. Honestly, I wasn't sure what side I was on until I tried it on. It has that perfect oversize feel you want with a hooded sweatshirt. Yes, the denim-hybrid look is a little weird but I feel like it could get compliments (maybe). It's one of those things you'll probably reach for every weekend because it's so comfy." "And here it is from the front." "I saw this online and thought it was cute but might be too much with all of the trends going on (PVC, chain link strap). I was wrong. Perfect mini bucket bag and would go with pretty much any look. Looks like something you'd want to Instagram IMO." "Suiting as a trend has been around for a while. To some, it may not seem exactly controversial, but the truth is that most people like the idea of wearing a suit more than they actually like wearing a suit. One of those people is definitely me. I see women wearing tailored suits of all kinds all over Instagram and beyond, but whenever I try one on in the store, I feel like I look so lame. "This skirt suit from Zara was honestly the first time I felt cool wearing a suit. The blazer is unique in that it is collarless with boxy shoulders and the miniskirt fits just right with a high-rise waist, belt loops, and pockets." "I also tried the blazer on with my jeans and black long-sleeve shirt I was wearing while shopping to see if it looked good all alone, and it does. In other words, my friends and co-workers will be seeing a lot of these two pieces in the coming weeks." + Zara A-Line Mini Skirt ($50) "Another perfectly oversize sweatshirt. I feel like this is the tie-dye trend for beginners—it's not too crazy because it's pretty neutral based. Could wear with a skirt, jeans, over a dress… the list goes on." "Tie-dye is really cool and can be really easy to wear if you buy the right pieces. Clearly, Mimi and I love oversize shirts and oversize anything that kind of makes us look like punk skater girls even though we could not be farther from that aesthetic. I digress. This shirt was soft and the ombre effect on the tie-dye really stands out. So I bought it." I paired it with these silk cargo pants that have pockets and snap closures at the ankles. It's hard to see in this pic, but they are legit (and only $40, fam). This is an outfit I will be wearing on repeat.  "With the right hair and makeup, I could look like an extra in a Tim Burton film in this. Since my life is not a movie, I will prob style this with combat boots and a denim jacket around my waist. Shouts to Zara for making outfits very easy with the two-piece sets these days." + Zara Striped Skirt With Buttons ($30) Next up, shop the 11 designer handbags fashion girls are buying in 2019 .