#are you tired of all my peony photos yet

[deluluass]

What bliss, domesticity.

for: @tink2kagome. i’m sorry it took me so long to work on ur pretty setter squad request T^T i’ll probably do like another one in the future! 

  & @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @belpomme @chaichai-the-weeb for being such lovely mutuals <3 <3 

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; yakuza/organized crime; gun mention; a lot of (non-sexual) food references in this one

  Jun’ichi Saikawa was obviously the kind of man who liked to laugh. Not unlike most people in their world. The kind who use their entire body when they do, announcing to the entire world with a bellowing “Ha Ha Ha!” how pleased they are with whatever’s going on in front of them.

  Which, in all honesty, was pretty admirable, that the old man could still do it considering how bored to tears Wataru was. 

  That it’s a humid afternoon didn’t help either. He could feel the sweat on his back even when the doors were already slid open, exhibiting a verdant garden filled with blossoms and shrub peonies. From his place he could see the school of koi swirling in the shallow pond, their scales iridescent under the warm rays of the sun. 

  “Didn’t know you were the funny sort, 'Kaashi!” Saikawa blurted out, the sake in his hand spilling to his fingers.

  This wasn’t Wataru’s first day on the job, but this is the first that he gets to do something this important. And with someone he highly respects, too. 

  So he gave his collar a light tug, steeling himself to endure as he tucked his legs further beneath him, and resorted to thinking about the many things he would absolutely surrender just to lie down on the warm mat. 

  His car, maybe.

  The brand new noise-cancelling headphones he bought, if pushed. 

  Wataru saw Akaashi nod.

  “I appreciate a joke every now and then,” he said.

  The larger man laughed again.

  “Here, here!” Saikawa thundered, snatching a tiny, yellow box from the maid who appeared as swiftly as she’d left. 

  “I heard you like sweets. Here,” he said, grinning as he handed it to Akaashi. “My youngest son just opened a cake shop. I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to say no, eh?”

  Akaashi passed the box to Wataru. 

  “Mind it for me, please,” he whispered.

  How unexpected. Akaashi-san has a sweet tooth.

  Huh. 

  That’s pretty neat. Wataru himself wasn’t partial to cakes, but he does love pudding. 

  “You are a good father, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi told him. 

  This time, Wataru didn’t bother suppressing a yawn as Saikawa fumbled for his phone, hiding it behind his hand as he stared at the birds chirping and hopping about outside.

  “Wanna see him? He’s much like you! Good head on his shoulders, that one.” 

  “I am honored, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi echoed back, peering down at the photos Saikawa showed him. 

  “He sends me a lot of these- uh,” Saikawa snorted, his nose reddened by the alcohol. “What do young people call it, the- pictures-”

  “Selfies?” Akaashi politely supplied. 

  “That’s the one! Look. Precious, ain’t he?”

  His earpiece crackled to life. 

  Konoha’s voice emerged from the static. 

  “We’re ready when you are,” his senior murmured. “Man, this is taking too long. Let’s get some burgers when we’re done.”

  “Akaashi-san,” Wataru croaked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he continued, “K-Komi-san and the others are waiting for you.”

  Saikawa perked up. “Ah, of course! Of course!” 

  He stumbled when he attempted to stand up. Akaashi was quick on his feet to assist him.

  “I knew I could count on you, son,” he muttered, patting Akaashi’s back. “Now, you tell Bokuto that what happened between us- it’s all in the past! All in the past! And if those bastards mess with him again, you tell him to run to old Jun’ichi!”

  Akaashi clasped Saikawa’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments to Bokuto-san.”

  “You do that, my boy.” Saikawa’s belly shook as he laughed. “Your generation’s a smart one, indeed. The in-fighting and wars, bah! All that trouble for nothing; that’s not your style. Your lot’s the future now!”

  Then, Akaashi stepped a few meters back and bowed. 

  Wataru followed behind him. 

  “We will be taking our leave,” Akaashi said. “It has been an illuminating talk, Jun’ichi-san.”

  The sound of the bamboo drip trickling water into another stalk permeated through the silence.

  It collapsed and clunked against a stone. 

  He heard the birds flutter away.

  When Wataru raised his head, Saikawa had already been lying face down on the floor. 

  And, of course, Wataru’s used to it: the crack of a gun muffled by a silencer. 

  He’s been practicing his entire life, after all. He actually doesn’t flinch anymore and Wataru thinks he should be proud of himself.

  It’s just that... how could someone who used to be there, suddenly...disappear? Saikawa was right in front of him a few minutes ago. Laughing and showing off photographs of his son. And now he’s...not.

  But, Saikawa didn’t disappear. Not really. 

  The blood seeping through the tatami is proof of it, but Wataru chooses not to look. In theory, he knows what a bullet through the skull looks like. He’d just rather not see today if what he’s taught reflects true in the real world. 

  Maybe some other time.

  “Wataru.” 

  Wataru flinched. “Y-yes?”

  Akaashi looked back at him. “The cake?”

  His body was still trembling and it took a lot of strength to not let it show in his hands when he gave it back to Akaashi, the box pleasantly yellow with doodles of doe-eyed eggs dancing along the handle. Unblemished, unlike Akaashi, who was sporting a splatter of blood along his cheek. 

  It’s surprisingly still cool to touch, too.

  “No, thank you,” he said, rejecting the handkerchief that Wataru offered. 

  From afar, Wataru could hear the faint melodies of an old love song being played by a car radio. No doubt Konoha’s doing. It followed them, growing louder the closer they walked back into the parking lot. The others bowed and sent gruff salutations along Akaashi’s way as they dragged bodies out of the Saikawa mansion. 

  (It was nauseating and Wataru wanted to pass out.)

  He pressed his nails harshly into the meat of his palm. 

  “A-Akaashi-san,” Wataru began. “I didn’t know that- that um, you liked... sweets.”

  Akaashi halted. 

  “No, I don’t,” he said, blinking. “But my wife does.”

  Wataru stared at him. 

  Akaashi went ahead. 

  He stayed that way— staring and wondering, until they stopped by the fast food restaurant that Konoha loved so much. Wataru couldn’t even finish his burger and fries. 

  By the time that they hit the freeway, Akaashi had already cleaned himself up and Wataru was still grappling with the word “wife.” 

  Of course he knows the man is married. 

  But, how, exactly, do you reconcile his reputation with the sight of him, every passing headlight sharpening his features, quietly humming along to Aki Yashiro? Who was longing for Shinjuku at night, the beauty of it, and oh, how wonderful it’d be, she said: a rendezvous with her lover, waiting for her under raining cherry blossoms. 

  Wataru figured that he was tired and starting to see things. 

  That small smile that graced Akaashi’s lips couldn't be real, either, especially those hands of his that held the box of cake like it’s worth more than gold.

He wasn't really particular when it comes to music. A song's a song, in Akaashi's opinion. Another form of noise that helps when the silence gets too overbearing. 

  But you, on the other hand, liked music. Listened to it the same way one eats their favorite food: memorizes the lyrics; goes out of your way to collect unearthed photographs and newspaper clippings that made the singer seem more human.

  You loved music— was probably the right way of putting it.

  Especially the old variety. He didn't get it at first. The sounds are dated; no one speaks in that language with that cadence anymore; the singer's probably dead.

  Well, Akaashi still doesn't get it, if he were to be honest. 

  Yet here he is. 

  His hands were wrapped around your waist, coaxing you into a slow— albeit clumsy, waltz.

  "Kei-kun!" you squeaked. "The dishes!"

  You dragged your slippers beneath you, struggling to wipe the suds off your hands. 

  "S-seriously, Kei-kun..!"

  Sure, he doesn’t fully understand what’s great about it, music. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he immediately recognized the first few notes this time, that’s why he’s doing this. He didn’t even wait for the DJ to finish saying, “You’re still listening to Vintage F.M. Here’s a classic for you couples out there. Have a romantic night with Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-”

  Perhaps it’s because your cream stew tasted extra special that it made him shrug the fatigue off, giving in to the urge of pulling you close and taking your damp hand in his to sway and bob along the skipping bassline. Your bashful objections went in one ear and out the other.

  Sure, he’s not the type to do this, either, dancing. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he knew that it’s your favorite song.

  Perhaps it’s just what marriage does to you.

  "Did you like the cake?" he whispered against your neck, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and the way your skin jumped as he did.

  Your breaths were shallow against his chest, but you managed a soft, “Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.”

  Akaashi caressed your back, kneading the tensed muscles as he huffed. 

  “Good,” he murmured, trembling. “Good girl. What a relief." 

  It was endearing, how offbeat the both of you were. A shame, though, considering that Nat King Cole’s fervently insisting on love; that it’s all that I can give to you; that it’s more than just a game for two. 

  So Akaashi makes up for his two left feet by joining in. He pressed his lips to your forehead. How strange, your presence in his life. What did he do to deserve you by his side, for this contentment that thaws away the chill?

  (He put a ring on your finger, is what he did. He deserves this.)

  “Two,” he droned, made giddy by the sparks in his belly, “in love can make it.”

  You looked at him, wide-eyed. 

  “Take my heart and please don’t break it.”

  He spun you around.

  “Oh my god, Kei-kun,” you gasped. “You can’t sing.”

  Akaashi’s aware of it all too well. He can’t carry a note; not him: the guy who’s had monotony ingrained in his very being. But that’s why he has you.

  A startled giggle left you as he guided you into a box step, the trumpet rising and falling over the strings. You stepped on him a few times, so he lifted you up, just so, and kicked off your slippers. Then, he set your feet atop his own. 

  He took you with him as he moved, waddling and careful not to hit his back against the countertop. It came as no revelation that both of you weren’t any better dancers even after this maneuver.

  Akaashi continued. Starting with L—

  “Is for the way you look at me.”

  “Stop, stop-” Your eyes crinkled at the sides. “You’re flat.”

  Akaashi persisted, anyway, taking your cheek to pepper kisses all over your face.

  “O is for the only one I see.”

  Your laugh was airy— light and buoyant all over the kitchen, like a fairy leaving stardust in its wake. Not gratingly booming nor demanding. After all, you weren’t the kind who felt the need for it: an audience to witness how pleased you are; how strong and powerful you are over everyone else. 

  Besides, your laugh was just for him. A private and intimate thing. And he was so lost in it that he almost forgot what’s been gnawing at him for the entire morning.

  Akaashi rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling the downy fabric of your dress as he gripped you by the hips. 

  “Where did you go earlier?” 

  The orchestra was in a joyous uproar, joining the rapid beating of your heart; the trumpet bright and clear, singing in harmony with the bass and saxophones and trombones, as Nat King Cole repeatedly guaranteed, as if an oath, that love was made for me and you. 

  Love was made for me and you.

  “I had to buy some groceries!” you piped up. “We ran out of ingredients. Sorry, I forgot to bring my phone with me. Oh, I have to run you a bath. I’ll tell you when it’s done, alright?”

  You broke away from him with a beaming grin, but Akaashi wanted to ask, despite the evidence of it before him. 

  “Are you happy?”

  It has already ended, the song. The DJ was signing off for the night.

  You nodded, playfully jabbing his arm with a fist. 

  “Of course,” you told him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Perhaps it’s because you were never really good at pretense, no matter how much you hid behind needless noise. 

  Music. Laughter. Running water. 

  Akaashi sighed as he slumped down the nearest stool.

  Of course you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?

  After rubbing his eyes with clammy fingers, Akaashi fiddled them together beneath his temples. He released a heavy breath and fished for his phone in his pocket.

  He spoke after the first two rings. 

  “Wataru-san, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “Can you do something for me?”

  His subordinate didn't ask him why, neither did he react when he'd stated his request. Akaashi knew, however, that the question was sitting in Wataru's clipped replies. The boy’s “yes, sir” and “understood, sir” were far too enthusiastic than normal.

  Akaashi didn’t mind, though, if he did ask. And despite that familiar pang of dread, Akaashi would answer him like the common— just like the average, everyday husband— with that characteristic, bordering on irksome pride that they have when they talk about their wives. 

  Why?

  “Well, Wataru-san,” Akaashi would answer. “Perhaps this is just what marriage does to you.”

The house was a house like any other.

  There was an old pickup truck parked outside the freshly painted gate, carrying crates of fruits and vegetables in its trunk. Along the bricked walls was an overgrowth of vines and ferns. It extended around the windows and crept up the balcony.

  A large Shiba ran outside and jumped to your lap as soon as it saw you by the driveway.

  Wataru heard Chiaki stir at the back of the car.

  “Pay up, asshole,” he grunted, waking a disheveled Ryota who’s still holding a half-bitten melon bread.

  His lackey cracked his neck and gave the scenery a cursory glance. “Could be a front.”

  Ryota grumbled and went back to sleep.

  “Idiot,” Chiaki clicked his tongue. “She traveled all the way to Miyagi just to give intel? And here? Of all places?”

  Three days. 

  They’ve tailed you for three days. Akaashi-san never said anything else, besides that within the week, while he’s gone and sealing deals in another country, there was a high likelihood of you folding and getting out of Tokyo. 

  To run right here. In Miyagi.

  He didn’t say why, really, but Wataru supposes it’s better that he didn’t. Because during the days of absolute, mind-crushing boredom, of watching some suburban wife go out for a morning walk, chat with her neighbors, and shop around the market, rinse and repeat, coming up with the Why had been their only salvation.

  The betting pool has two answers: cheater or snitch.

  Chiaki was insistent on the former, while Ryota stood by the latter. 

  And Wataru...Wataru could only watch, waiting with a bated breath as the door finally opened.

  “I bet it’s someone younger,” Chiaki said. “Usually is.”

  Seems that none of them were winning anything today.

  The man who emerged from the house was far older— who, oddly enough, resembled you. An  old woman soon followed behind him. Both of them looked at you as if they were witnessing a specter, or someone who's crawled back from the dead. An appropriate comparison, especially since they’re both wearing somber black clothes.

  It wasn’t his place to assume. Though he’s been promoted to a slightly higher position, it will never come close to the place that Keiji Akaashi occupies. Wataru knows all of these, but nothing was stopping him from putting the pieces together, no matter what little he has.

  They could only stare when all of you broke down into tears, locked in each other’s embrace as you knelt on the pavement. 

  Don’t let her stay too long.

  That had been one of Akaashi-san’s orders.

  So the three of them didn’t wait it out. By the time that the sun had set, Wataru had already stepped out of the car, taking Ryota with him. He made sure to remind the boy, just in case he’d forgotten.

  “Be gentle, alright?” Wataru reiterated.

  There hadn’t been any need for that, it turned out. 

  He’s sure you’ve never met before, but Wataru saw bitter understanding flash in your eyes when you caught them loitering in front of your house. Fear was there, too, of course. 

  Wataru was convinced that surely it’s a good thing. It saved everyone a lot of time, that way.

  You didn’t even say a word, only giving Wataru a stiff nod when he’d introduced himself, and remained like so on the ride back to Tokyo, with the strap of your handbag trapped by a clenched fist. Wataru didn’t try to initiate small talk; it felt unnecessary.

  It took a while for Wataru to realize that you also hadn’t bothered to change out of your pajamas, though he gave you a couple of minutes to say your farewells. 

  Pajamas, obscured now by a thick, gray coat. 

  Akaashi-san was right.

  You had no plans of coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

  Wataru decided not to linger on it anymore. 

  He ignored the blank stare that pierced right through the rear-view mirror. And then, Wataru wondered, hand sweating in his pocket, what the three of them should have for dinner.

Thick chunks of pumpkin melted in your mouth with just the first spoonful of broth. 

  It'd been a while since the last time Akaashi cooked. So, more than anything, it was the sight of him setting plates and utensils that took you aback, greeting you with a, "Welcome home. You're just in time. Food's ready," his sleeves rolled to his elbows while donning your baby owl-printed apron. 

  The taste didn't. Surprise you, that is. He's a good cook. Unlike you, who only became marginally better one hundred burn scars later. 

  It also didn't surprise you that he flew back home at the drop of a hat. Even when he said he'd be gone for a week.

  "How is it?" Akaashi asked after chewing. "Took me a while to make it."

  It obviously did, you thought. When you arrived, Irma Thomas was already begging through the record player.

  "Do you need me, like I need you?" she implored, straight from the heart. "Look at me, I'm crying from holding you." 

  The last song on your favorite record. It was cheap and had the best from the artists you loved. 

  Etta James. Ella Fitzgerald. Aretha Franklin. The Mills Brothers. Bessie Smith. All in one vinyl.

  "Yeah," you replied, clearing your throat when you realized how hard it is to speak. "It's delicious."

  You looked back down to your bowl. The  tofu had gone untouched. Your food was still close to spilling to the brim, while Akaashi was almost finished with his, scrolling on his phone laid on the table.

  "So no one coaxed you into it," you heard him say, and that had ripped your eyes away from the broth like a bandage on an infected wound.

  Akaashi was holding your phone, reading the messages- his number was the only one there, as pealing bells resonated in the dining room. 

  "I'd think of all the things that I wanted of you," cried Irma Thomas. "To make me forget the pain that you caused."

  "I would've known if anyone else talked to you, anyway," he huffed, locking the screen before blowing steam off the morsel. 

  "You would," you conceded. The tofu was soft when you bit into it, sinking into your teeth.

  "I found that in our cabinet. Last time it was in the kitchen drawer, wasn't it?" Akaashi helped himself to a bowl of rice. "Don't leave it in stuffy places. What if you forget where you hid it and you won't know when I call?"

  "And I can no longer keep track of where you are for every moment of the day?" you could hear him say. Though he didn't; though all that could heard, besides the scraping of utensils, was Irma Thomas declaring:

  A fragile thing, like life. It just don't last so long.

  It could be for a minute or an hour. Or then again, from now.

  Your lips tightened with a grin. "I won't do it again, sweetheart," you said, spoon hanging limply in your hold.    

  He didn't need to say it. 

  That your phone has a tracker. That this house is still the same cage that it'd been before. That the only difference between then and now is that silver band on your finger.

  Akaashi’s blinked back at you as he sipped  what remained of the soup. You tried to do the same.

  The savory taste was cloying and it burned in your throat, so you didn't attempt to finish the bowl. It cut down to your heart, sinking heavily on your stomach, bile rising as the song came to a close.

  You gulped it down, though. You had to. And in the final moments, Irma Thompson told you what she really wanted. 

  "Make me forget," she said, "the pain that you'd caused."

  The chorus joined her. "Understanding is a great thing," she concluded. "If it comes from the heart."

  Akaashi was on his own phone this time. Most likely checking on the business that he left, judging by those furrowed brows and that long-suffering look in his eyes.   

  Fizzling noise came at the heels of the fading music. Then, it stopped. And there was nothing left anymore but silence.

  It's over now. Akaashi’s making a move to clean up. You were supposed to say, "That was a lovely dinner, honey." Or, you could tell him to sit down and watch a movie with you when he's done. 

  "I'll help you with the dishes," you wanted to say. 

  I'll help you with the dishes. It was so easy to say. 

  Instead, what came out of your mouth was a hushed call for his name.

  "Kei-kun," you repeated, brittle and weak and dry.  

  "I'm so sorry," you might've mouthed. 

  You could barely hear your own voice as you looked at him. Akaashi paused from tidying the table. 

  You're parched and a lot has happened today. Gathering the courage to take that first step out of the city had taken what little strength you had. The fear never left you. Seeing your old house almost ended you. 

  It should be physically impossible for you to still be able to cry. And yet there doesn't seem to be an end to your tears now, the same way your apologies unfurled in an embarrassingly infinite string.

  "Don't lock me inside here again," you whispered, clinging to him as he shushed you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he helped you drink a glass of water.

  He carried you to your room and sat you down on the bed, right between his thighs. You sobbed into your hands, tears and snot on the sleeves of your pajama top.

  "I- I just wanted to see them. That's all. Just one day, Kei-kun. One day. I was gonna come back, I swear." 

  You're rambling. You're a madwoman pleading and bargaining with a stone-cold judge because playing house is the only thing keeping her alive. 

  And you messed that up you foolish, foolish girl.

  "Please don't hurt my family," you heaved. "They're all I have left."

  Akaashi doesn't speak, not for a while, but when he did, you bawled harder.

  "I can kill them all," he said, matter of factly. 

  It is true. Hearing him say it does not make it easier to take, though. 

  "I can hurt you the same way that you hurt me."

  Your neck strained as he tipped your chin towards him with a slender finger. 

  "I can break you," he muttered, not batting an eye.

  That, too, is true. You know it all too well. He said it with such serenity, still and undisturbed by the shaking of your head, because it goes without saying. 

  Except, you, too, know it. 

  When he is breaking. When he is falling apart.

  He smothered you, taking your entire body to curl against you, making himself small as he pressed his face on your back.

  "Yet- and yet I-" Akaashi sniffled. You felt your shirt dampen. "I've given you everything."

  When he finally brought his face close to yours, he looked so lost. Almost like a little boy who's on the verge of drowning,  clinging desperately onto a lifesaver and too shocked to shout for help. 

  You hated him all the more for it.

  "Each other," he said, snarling, almost, through tears as he grabbed your face with both hands. "That's all we have left, you hear? You and I. Husband and wife."

  He seized your jaw and turned it towards the vanity mirror.

  The room was dark save for the light in the hallway, peeking into the crack through the doorway. 

  But you could see yourself. And you could see your hand intertwined in his, your rings gleaming like muted starlights. 

  "We made a vow," he whispered, kissing your ring finger. 

  A detached part of you is astonished with how inescapable it is. Whether it be a reward or a punishment; a good day or a bad one.

  No matter what happens, you always end up like this, don't you? 

  Begging to him with your legs spread wide.

  You did as you'd always done when he began unbuttoning your top. 

  You go back to that autumn morning, when you first laid your eyes on him, a cup of coffee in his hand, and you thought that he had the prettiest face you'd ever seen.

  You go back to when he was just this really romantic guy who sent you flowers every day. There was a letter, every time. 

  Nothing too grandiose. Just short messages hoping that you'd have a great day ahead.

  He kissed your neck, wet smooches and long, flat-tongued licks dipping down your shoulder.

  He watched you through the mirror, his eyes a pair of darkened blues daring you to look away.

  Akaashi Keiji was your boyfriend, you told yourself. You dated him for quite some time before you married.

  Akaashi Keiji got along well with your father and doted on your mother. On Sundays, you visit them and they send you back to Tokyo with ripe watermelons. 

  Akaashi Keiji has never hurt you.

  The man tracing the hem of your bra, cupping your clothed tits and drawing lazy circles over nipples, however, did.

  (And he still will in future. He still is, right now.)

  This man is the real one. 

  And you have angered him, so he will not make this easy for you.

  "What did you promise me?" Akaashi whispered as he lightly bit the shell of your ear. "Or have you forgotten?"

  Of course, you haven't forgotten. You were chained to this very room when you made them, after all.

  "N-no, I remember," you said, catching your breath. "I remember, Kei-kun."

  "Then say it," he said. "Look at me."

  You shivered as his palms swept over your  stomach; as he unfastened your bra, letting it fall down your arms.

  "Look at me when you say it."

  You felt your nipples harden, gooseprickles spread all over you, as the air hit your bare skin, cooling the sweat that made it glisten.

  "Please," he rasped.

  The eyes of the woman in the mirror was hooded, threatening to close as she puffed with each squeeze and caress to her tits, swiveling her hips against her husband’s crotch as he grinded into her. 

  "I will be happy," she said.

  Akaashi nuzzled your temple, using his rough fingers to tease your nipples just as he did, brushing them to and fro, then grazing the bumpy skin around until you're squeaking out his name. 

  And when he began pressing down on the stiff peaks with his thumbs, before rolling and pulling at them, the heels of his palm digging into your tits, you saw the woman claw at her husband's hair, a graceless affair that almost scratched his eye out, making him reach for both her arms to wrap them around his neck. 

  "I- I will..!" Her lips parted in a breathless scream and it was disgusting how lewd she appeared. "I will not run away!"

  The streak of tears on his cheeks touched yours when he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, his wet tongue gliding in so slowly as he deepened the kiss with a throaty groan.

  His other hand crawled down to your soaked panties. You couldn't contain the mewl that left you.

  Both of you gasped and struggled to breathe again after you parted from each other.  

  "You understand, don't you?" he rasped.   

  Two of his fingers slid down your folds, only to slither back up, then down again, smearing your cunt with its own slick.

  But he never touched your swollen clit, even though it's throbbing and aching to be rubbed and the hard bulge sitting between your ass grew harder the more you squirmed in his hold, whimpering like a bitch in heat.  

  You heard your husband sigh, his hot breath tickling you when he said, "This isn't about you now."

Belly pushed into the edge of the dressing table, rattling and battering against the wall with each forceful thrust, and your leg perched atop it, made numb by Akaashi's grip on your thigh.

  That was the first thing that you could recall when you opened your eyes.

  But your entire body was screaming in pain, so you knew that everything else that happened last night would come back to you soon enough.

  The flesh had a memory of its own. 

  You sat up with a groan and you didn't have to see the marks to know.

  His teeth were still nipping at you, biting you until they drew blood, only to follow with an apologetic lapping of his tongue. 

  You could feel him beneath you, his hands clawing you down to him, palms kneading your ass cheeks as you bounced up and down on his cock.

  You could feel him above you, gripping your wrists not unlike the cuffs that once kept you shackled. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling you close to him, filling you up with loads and loads of cum, squelching every time he sank down your weeping hole.

  And when your vision began to blur at the edges, he carried your body, mere seconds into fainting, to the dressing table. 

  The evidence of that stared back at you in shameful streaks and smudges, traces of your fingers on the mirror when he rammed your cunt from behind.

  "Are you happy?" Akaashi whispered.

  You don't know. 

  When he's just your husband who comes home to your arms and brings you sweets because he knows how much you love them; who dances with you in the kitchen and listens intently to you when you talk about that cute dog you saw at the park, were you happy, then?

  You don't know, but the woman in the mirror, in that moment, surely was.

  She even said, "Yes, yes, Kei-kun, right there, fuck me right there!"

  Her pupils were blown wide, eyes rolling almost over to the back of her head. And despite the cries that escaped her, there was a wide, dissipated smile on her lips,  spit trailing down her chin.

  "Look at you," Akaashi said, grunting when your walls tightened around his shaft. "You're clearly happy with me."

  "So why? Why'd you even think of leaving?" He rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock against that spot that had you holding onto the mirror. "Don't ever do that to me again." 

  You told him no, no, you won't run away again, but it didn't seem to placate his unease, nor his tears.

  "I'm so scared, everyday, that you'll leave me and- and- it feels like hell. I would rather die." 

  He kissed your nape as he huffed and said, "Because I don't know what I'll do without you."

  You never really understood why; what about you had caused him to single you out in the sea of people that had vied for his attention. Especially now as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

  There were dark circles under your eyes and Akaashi’s t-shirt was rumpled on your body, engulfing you whole with its size— a far cry from that lovely, dazzling bride that his best friend, Bokuto, had described you as on your wedding day. 

  But you’re aware, more than anyone, that Akaashi Keiji is the last person to care about appearances. 

  When he entered the room, carrying a tray in his hands, he gazed at that disheveled girl with eyebags big enough to be dragged around the same way he looked at her when he waited for her at the end of the aisle.

  “I made you pancakes,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he sat down beside you.

  You were tired so it didn’t dawn on you as quickly as it should that he made them the way you preferred. Four fluffy pieces stacked atop one another, sprinkled with powdered sugar, whipped cream and a smattering of berries on the side.

  He fiddled with his fingers when you only stared at it, so you immediately took the fork in your hand and sliced the pancake in half.

  “I’ll be taking some time off work,” Akaashi said as you took the food in your mouth. You only nodded, having noticed that he wasn’t wearing the usual bespoke suit as soon as he entered the room.

  You felt him near you; felt his hand, warm to touch, cup your face.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were misty and, this close, it seemed that he, too, wasn’t in a good shape. “So please-” Akaashi licked his chapped lips, “Please don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” you replied, giving him the smile that you knew he needed. “I promise.”

  Then, as you moved to kiss him on the cheek, the chains that tethered you to the bedpost clinked softly beneath the blanket, and you didn’t bother to keep the tears at the bay.

  Akaashi wiped them for you when you said that you loved him. And when he asked why, you only shrugged and told him that the pancakes were so sweet that they could make anyone cry. 

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere akaashi keiji

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Sixteen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Language, scenes that are NSFW, angst, slightly annoying people

Tags: @kelbabyblue​ @jennmurawski13​

Notes: I am so sorry for being rubbish in posting this. I started writing it weeks ago and then work took over my life. Thanks for sticking with me and I hope this was worth the wait (somewhat).

Chapter Sixteen

“So, what do you want to do now?” Audrey asked, hands firmly planted on the Diner table in front of her. She had the same careful posture and look on her face as when she had to relay bad news to a family. It certainly wasn’t providing much comfort now. 

She tilted her head to one side and offered a soft smile to try and assuage Sarah’s anxiety but it was no use. This kind of information wasn’t deserving of a casual reaction. She’d pretty much dropped a bomb on her friend and she was expected to deal with the fall out. To Audrey’s credit, though, she appeared to be taking it in her stride which was a bit surprising to say the least. 

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Sarah shook her head despondently before her forehead connected with the table. 

Three Days Earlier… 

The convenient thing about being a nurse and working long and tiring hours, Sarah found, was that you almost always had the perfect excuse for getting out of plans. Or not replying to messages you were deliberately avoiding. “Sorry I didn’t reply earlier, I lost track of time” quickly becomes an acceptable code for “Sorry I didn’t reply earlier, I didn’t have a clue what to say.” 

No one would ever dare call you out on it. 

It had been almost a week since Sarah had arrived home and the questions from her family had yet to subside. For someone quiet and relatively lacking in a desire for attention, people sure did have a vested interest in her whereabouts. They wanted to know about the exam and when she was likely to hear the outcome. They wanted to know what would happen next and whether she could appeal it if she didn’t like the results. They wanted to know whether she would try again or if she was just happy doing what she was doing now, and please can you call your grandmother because she wants to hear about it, too. 

She was exhausted. 

But dealing with those messages was an absolute dream compared to messages Chris was sending her. She could copy and paste generic responses to all of the above but with Chris? That was going to take some more thought. 

Chris: You’re so pretty. I miss your face so much x 

Chris: …..And so many other things x 

Chris: It’s not the same waking up without you x Chris: Do you remember me waking you up last week………? 

Chris: Did you pick up my sunglasses?? I cant find them anywhere…….. 

Chris: Just found them! Duh! 

Chris: Have you seen the Last Week Tonight? I think you’d love this one……. X 

Chris: I’m thinking of getting a dog x 

Chris: Can you just tell me ur OK so I can stop worrying?

After coming home late one evening following a long shift, she found herself face-to-face with the most beautiful array of flowers she had ever seen. Sunflowers, glorious white roses, gerberas, tulips, peonies… Truly, indescribably beautiful. 

“Someone sure is popular.” Shanna called from where she was sat at the dining table. “They got delivered earlier today. I don’t mean to be a bad feminist but you should probably think about putting out for Greg ‘cos if you don’t, you can let him know that I am definitely up for it.” 

Sarah side-eyed her friend and tried to locate the card in amongst the substantial spray. “I can’t remember the last time someone bought me flowers that wasn’t my Dad.” Shanna barked out a laugh as Sarah pulled the card out, recognising the handwriting instantly. 

I really miss you x

Now she felt bad for her lazy response to him earlier that afternoon. The second-hand embarrassment was creeping up on her after she tried to casually allay his concerns with an “All good!! x” and regretted the double exclamation marks. That was bound to give the game away. 

She regarded the flowers standing proudly on ceremony and waiting for her to smile at them in utter joy so they knew they had done their job. They deserved that at least, but all she could manage was a sigh and a somewhat reluctant smile at their glowing beauty. 

“I mean there’s certainly no denying he likes you a lot.” Shanna crept up behind her and narrowly missed Sarah scrunching up the card in her hands. “You don’t buy flowers like this without making your intentions clear.” 

“Who says he has intentions?” Sarah playfully jostled with Shanna. “This isn’t Downton Abbey.” 

“Oh, come on!” Shanna regaled in disbelief, running her fingers over the large, open sunflowers. “You can’t fool me, Bernette. These are statement flowers if ever I saw them. He wants you baaaad.” 

She walked back into the kitchen and Sarah could hear her locate and clang the only two vases they owned in the apartment. Neither of them had much need for vases and even if they did, one thing that made them good flatmates was their mutual distaste for needless crockery lying around the place. Neither appreciated dusting as a chore; it was much easier this way. 

“Fuck. I’ll have to ask Mom to bring one over.” Shanna said. “We’re gonna need more to cope with that.” 

As expected, Chris was pretty proud of himself. She couldn’t deny him that as he saw the flowers blossom in and around her apartment. He had popped by under the premise of annoying his sister for the evening but flirtatious glances across the lounge gave away his true intentions. 

“You should be flattered, I don’t normally do flowers.” He joked when he sidled up next to her in the kitchen, tossing an apple back and forth between his hands. 

“You don’t “normally” do anything.” 

“Not true. I once sent a girl a peace lily that came in that nice, tall glass vase. That big blue thing.” 

“Wasn’t that just to replace the one you smashed at her mom’s place when you were trying to sneak out?” 

Chris froze on the spot, staring at her. “I actually can’t remember now, was it? Scott ordered it for me.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes before continuing to tidy around him, Chris evidently deciding not to make her job any easier by moving out of her way. It was the equivalent of him lazily lifting his feet off the floor while she tried to vacuum underneath. 

“Seriously, though, did you like them?” 

“They’re lovely, thank you." Sarah moved to the other side of the kitchen as she continued to dry and place back some wine glasses in the cupboard. “You really didn’t need to do that. It was kinda hard to explain them away.” 

“What did you say?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, turning serious for a second. 

“I didn’t really say anything. She just assumed they were from Greg.” She leaned against the counter across the room from him. He could make out the worry in her eyes. “Which makes me feel like I’ve lied to her twice.” 

It was hard to sleep that night. Chris had somehow got her to agree to meeting him the next day so they could talk some more but she refrained from agreeing to meet him at his place after work. She knew how that was likely to end and she couldn’t face being with him in that way right now so he had finally relented and agreed to a simple coffee at lunch instead. He was less than pleased when he left and Shanna spent half an hour complaining through the bathroom door about his “issues” as Sarah was trying to clean up before heading to bed. 

“He’s always been an entitled asshole.” She started before ending with a one-two punch of “He’s not happy unless he’s in control” and “I wish for once he would experience being told ‘no’” She wasn’t wrong but she also didn’t need to hear just how right she was in this moment either. 

*

A couple of things happened in relatively quick succession. 

The coffee was every bit as awkward as she knew it would be, only not exactly for the reasons she had anticipated. It was times like this she relished Chris’s ability to have it all figured out and to be able to express himself clearly and succinctly, but she should have known better. As a result, Sarah was left more anxious and unsure of what it was she was feeling. Guilt she figured, not just for the knowledge that she was lying to her best friend but also for leaving the man sat in front of her looking like he had not slept properly in days. 

He cleared his throat and shifted to sit up straighter in his seat. They were sat in the corner of the diner, as always, and barring a couple of people having a relatively animated conversation a few booths away from them – relatives of patients, she figured – it was pretty quiet for this time of the day. 

“So, time to be honest but there was a reason I sent those flowers.” He had the look of someone who had just been told off by a teacher. “I sort of thought you might have seen something but I guess it went away. I think Matt dealt with it OK.” 

Sarah put her cup down and looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“OK, don’t get mad but there may have been a photograph.” He barely looked up as he spoke. “Of us at the hotel.” 

Her eyes widened at him and she was about to panic out loud until she realised where she was. “A photograph?” 

“Well, technically a photo of me and an ‘unidentified female companion’.” He deadpanned making air quotes like it was nothing before finally making eye contact with her. He frowned but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. He looked down at the table again and then back at her when he realised she hadn’t said anything. “Don’t worry. It’s sorted. I explained things. I just figured someone might have put it on social media or something but I guess I owe him one this time, which he’ll love no doubt.” 

“Oh.” She knew it was a pathetic response. “What do you mean you explained things?” 

“It looks like a fan spotted me and took a picture at the right time. For them, obviously, not for me. Or us. A magazine picked it up. You actually look a little blurry so technically it could be anyone.” 

“Unless you know me. It’ll probably be really obvious then.” 

“Well now you don’t need to worry because it’s gone away. We’ll call it one of our nine lives.” He sipped his coffee again, slowly regaining his confidence now that he knew she wasn’t mad with him. She began rubbing her temple, a predictable move for when she was feeling stressed out and he realised he’d crossed a line. “Sorry.” 

“Maybe I should seek a career in espionage. Clearly I can hide in plain sight.” She finally spoke and he smiled softly at her in a way that would unnerve her under certain circumstances but for obvious reasons wasn’t having that same effect right in this moment. 

“Trust me, OK? I know how these things play out and people forget quickly. I’ve done this hundreds of times.” He was about to sip his coffee again until he was met with a sterner look from across the table. “That was supposed to sound reassuring but I, er, misjudged it.” 

“Does Matt know about me?” 

A few seconds of silence passed between them, Chris looking slightly to his left before making eye contact with her and pursing his lips, giving her the answer. 

He leaned in and spoke as quietly as he could manage. “But he won’t say anything. He’s a good guy and he looks out for me.” \

“Yeh, I know.” She nodded. “Just doesn’t feel great at the moment.” 

“You know I would love it if you talked to me about this.” He lowered his head so much he was now practically touching the table with his chin. “I feel like ever since we got back from New York things have been really weird and normally I would think I was overthinking things but I don’t think I am, am I?” 

She turned her cup a few times before she felt his hand connect with hers. She saw how small she looked in his and when she looked back up at him, she was met with his doe-eyed expression. The expression which all you could do was smile back, which she did, and she was glad she did because he seemed to lose some weight from his shoulders at that point. His fingers lightly rubbed across hers and she enjoyed the warmth spreading across her skin and up her forearms. 

“I’m sorry,” She spoke after a minute. “I didn’t mean to cause you any stress.” 

Surprised by her apology, he leaned back in his chair. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Bernette. I get it. It’s strange.” 

“I guess I just didn’t know where things would go after, y’know, everything. I wasn’t sure what to say.” 

“Well, I know where I want things to go but something tells me we’re not on the same page.” 

More silence. 

“Look, I get it, OK? Nothing about this is straight-forward.” He rubbed a hand over his beard and over the back of his hair. “But we’re doing OK, right? I mean, I don’t think this needs to end any time soon. We don’t need to make any rash decisions just yet.” 

“But how do you see this ending?” 

She missed his hands when he pulled them back and let them rest on the table in front of him. “Umm…” 

“Because truthfully, I figured it would have ended as soon as it started. You might have got bored or maybe you got a job and you left for months and we’d just…forget about it.” She shrugged back at him. 

“Forget?” He tried to mask the disbelief creeping into his tone. “I don’t think either of us could forget about this.” 

“But you think about our lives and how different we are and even if we take the family out of the equation, like, it was always going to be tough, right? We would have to figure these things out eventually. It would be naïve to think we could carry on as we have done without feeling guilty and…” 

“I don’t feel guilty. Do you feel guilty?” 

“Well, yeh. From time to time. It’s not so bad when we’re at yours because it feels like it’s out of sight, out of mind, and-” 

“-then we’ll just have to stay at mine more.” He raised his eyebrow at her in an attempt to bring some playfulness back to their conversation. 

“That’s not what I’m getting at.” She shook her head at him. Now it was her time to pull back as her head connected with the headrest. “This isn’t gonna last forever, is it? We need to be more rational.” 

“Well…” 

“And it’s only going to get harder and feel more…stressful.” 

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. “Why now?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, where is this coming from?” he asked. “We seemed to be OK and I thought we had a good time in New York. Then it’s days of near silence and now I think you’re trying to end this but you don’t have the guts to say it out loud.” 

He had her there. She didn’t feel particularly offended or caught off guard by his assumption and he saw that because, truthfully, he’d finally put a name to her thoughts. He wasn’t giving her a way out as such but he was at least addressing the elephant she had planted between them. 

He looked away from her and took in a sharp breath. “Look, I don’t want to have this conversation here, OK? I think we should have taken up my idea and spoken about this later at mine and in private. Will you please just come and see me later?” 

He didn’t give her the softer, more pleading tone she was normally used to when he was trying to make an appeal to her. She wasn’t expecting it given the circumstances but…it would have been nice. How was she going to get through the next few hours of work if she had this struggle to look forward to? 

“Because if you’re gonna dump me, I’d rather have a whiskey in me than whatever crap this is.” He flicked his cup away from him on the table and smoothed his hand over his beard again, still not making eye contact. “I’m gonna go. Just text me when you’re on the way, yeh?” 

So that was that, then.

*

She could have cried, it felt so good. 

She didn’t intend to let things get as far as they did. She was trying to figure out what to say to him. She spent a good portion of time standing outside his front door building up just enough nerve to knock. When she saw him, in a slightly-too-tight sweater, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips, eyes glossy from the alcohol she suspected he had started drinking as soon as he had arrived home, she couldn’t help herself. 

He looked gorgeous. He looked warm and comforting and soft and hot and…all the things that had become so familiar to her now. And when he held his hand out to pull her in, she willingly went to him. 

One thing that struck her as he was entering her over and over again was how tightly he held on to her. After she had finally managed to catch her breath from the onslaught of kisses and touches all over her body. His hands held hers firmly above her head as they fell onto his bed. God knows how they managed to make it that far. 

He hadn’t let her up for air as soon as his lips connected with hers. He pulled her inside his apartment and pushed her towards his bedroom. She knew the layout of his home like the back of her hand, knowing exactly when they passed his kitchen as he dragged her jacket from her shoulders and left it by the table. She felt the curtains in his hallway brush passed her hair and the breeze from the skylight in his bathroom reach the base of her spine, his hands having pushed up her t-shirt and exposed her skin to the brief chill. His arms wrapped around her and held her like he was scared she was going to fall away from his grasp. She can’t remember connecting with anything else after that point; she was focussed solely on the way he was loving her. \

Clumsily, he used to his leg to kick the bedroom open so she wouldn’t bang into it and he got her flat on the bed with minimal effort. He carefully removed clothes until she felt his hot skin smother hers and she realised she made the right decision in just going with it. There was a sweet hint of whiskey to his breath but she didn’t much care. As he looked into her eyes, resting deep inside her, she didn’t much care for anything. This was the power he held over her.

She could tell he was thinking of something to say. Something he had probably practiced in the few hours since they last saw each other but now was coming up short. She instinctively placed her hand gently over his mouth, an acknowledgement of sorts, and asked him to move again, slower this time as he made sure she could feel all of him moving inside her. 

She was on the edge of her orgasm for a long time. His breathing grew laboured, his hot breath fanning over her face and surrounding her before, without warning, he shifted them both in one fluid move so she was lying on top of him. 

“Ride me,” he whispered, a softness belying his request, and she complied.

She gripped at his upper arms so they would hold her weight as she moved purposefully on top of him. It was bliss. She couldn’t look away from him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, taking in everything she was giving him. They had experienced a few moments like this, moments that felt so tender if it wasn’t for the way his hands were gripping her hips to keep her going. 

After they had both come together, she collapsed down over him, her head resting over the top of his chest, him still inside her. She felt sure she had accidently bumped his chin but couldn’t quite manage the energy to vocalise an apology. He wrapped his arms securely around her to hold her in place when he thought she would try and move away from him. They’d slept like this in New York and he had decided he liked it more than the alternative. 

“If that’s the last time we do this, at least we went out on a high.” he sighed. 

“True.” She replied, equally as breathless.

He turned his head to look down at her, stroking a hand over her hair and the side of her face. “It doesn’t feel fair, though. Life’s gonna be a little bit shitter without you to look forward to.” 

“We’ll still see each other. We’ll find a way to make it work.” She shifted her legs from off his before turning slightly to take the rest of her body away from his and he reluctantly let her go. 

“Do you think we can?” He asked as he stared up at the ceiling. He already knew the answer in his mind but he wanted to hear her try and convince him. 

“We have to.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

She sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across her forehead, letting it rest it in her hair. “She’s my best friend. You guys are my family. We have to at least try.” 

Chris turned to look at her just in time to see a tear form in her eyes. She gently blinked and sniffed it away not realising he had already seen. 

“You’re gonna be a hard act to follow, Bernette.”

*

“So you slept with him again?” Audrey worried. 

Sarah nodded carefully, holding one hand in the other. “I know, I know…but when I saw him I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t pull away from him, it’s like he-” 

“Oh honey, listen, I get it. Completely.” Audrey’s eyes widened and she had to stop herself laughing. “I can imagine he’s been very supportive to you with everything that’s been going on but I think when all is said and done, maybe you both needed this?” 

“I wish it was that simple, Audrey. It’s not just the two of us that needs to consider things. Y’know, Shan actually apologised to me, saying she’d been a bad friend and that she would try to be more supportive from now on and…it hit me. It just knocked me for six that I’ve betrayed her completely and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to go back.” 

“It’s obvious this isn’t just sex. I mean, he drove to see you in New York and fucking…” She waved her hand around at nothing in particular. “…fucking tested you on fucking blood diseases and ECGs. Michael doesn’t even do that and I fucking married that guy! Come on, Sarah. If this was just sex, it wouldn’t be an issue, would it? You’d be able to close the book and move on. End of story. The only reason this is causing you strife is because you have feelings for each other. And very serious ones at that I might add.” 

“Ah well, that’s easy. You don’t go back. You don’t just forget the last few months. What’s done is done now and maybe there’s a better way out of this.”

“How?”

“Oh Sarah, I love you but you really are friggin’ naïve sometimes.” Audrey pointedly rolled her eyes for the tenth time since they sat down. It wasn’t something Sarah was appreciating right now, this feeling that she was continuously missing the damn point. 

If this was Oprah, the audience would be clapping and whooping loudly right now and Audrey would do her finger-snap that she reserved for drunken arguments in bars with ladies that pushed in line for the toilets. Instead, she took a sip from her sparkling water and raised an eyebrow at her, content in her response. Your move, she was saying. 

Sarah rubbed her eyes and painfully pulled at the skin on her eyelids. “I should have told you about this sooner. I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m sorry I’m landing this on your now.” 

“Well, while we’re being honest, I guess I should tell you that I kind of already knew.” 

Sarah looked at her incredulously. Audrey didn’t bat an eye and just sat looking back at her. 

“How long? When did you…?” 

“It’s not every day a movie star wanders into the reception of a crumbling ER department.” She said, matter-of-factly. “Plus, I saw you both outside the diner. Aaand I’m guessing the accident you had recently was because of him as well?” 

Sarah awkwardly bit at her bottom lip. She didn’t need to confirm anything; Audrey knew full well. She was astute as hell and while it didn’t feel like it right in this moment, Sarah was quietly relieved. 

“What do I do, Audrey?” 

She sipped her water again. “If you insist on being serious about this, you can’t let yourself be in a room with him alone. You know that much, hun. The rest is day by day. Maybe he’ll make it easy on you.” 

She nodded in understanding. Audrey took that at face value, giving her a sympathetic smile in return while mentally making a bet with herself about how well things would turn out. 

*

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fanfiction #evans fic #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

[wild-aloof-rebel]

waited so long to say this to you

Five times they say "I do" (and one they don't).

- part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - 

“We’re not hiring Ray as our wedding photographer,” David says again as he emerges from the storage room with a case of wine, setting it on the counter with more force than is strictly necessary. Patrick cringes, but there’s no sound of breaking glass, no liquid visibly seeping through the cardboard, so he carries on watering the succulents on display in the front window.

“But he offered to do it for free as a wedding gift,” he counters, thinking of their budget. It’s the third time they’ve had this argument, and it comes back around to the money every time. Patrick doesn’t want to make choices just because they’re cheap, of course, but the photographer David wants to hire would set them back a full two thousand dollars. Her photos are gorgeous, but they’re small business owners, not video rental empire magnates, and they just can’t afford to spend that kind of money on a photographer—not unless David wants to cut out dinner and only serve hors d'oeuvres, but somehow Patrick doesn’t think that that’s going to happen. So this is where he has to draw his line in the sand.

“He just wants to get out of buying us an actual gift.”

That’s probably true, but it’s unfair either way. “So what? He’s offering up his time and energy to do something nice for us.”

David gives an indignant snort. “Yeah, nice. It’ll be really nice when we don’t have any pictures of our first dance because Ray’s too busy handing out cards for one of his fifteen other businesses.”

“Ray’s a professional. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

“Just like you were ‘sure’ he wouldn’t barge in that time when I—”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“No, I’m not. And honestly have you ever actually seen Ray’s photos?”

“Yeah. They’re fine, David.”

“Fine?” It seems that’s some kind of breaking point, David’s voice tipping hastily from merely annoyed over into hysterical. “So that’s all you want for our wedding then: just fine. And here I’ve been trying to plan something beautiful and amazing and worthy of our story…” It’s a line he’d read in some wedding magazine that he’s been trotting out as an excuse any time he wants to push their budget constraints, like when he’d insisted on swapping the dahlias the florist had recommended for the centerpieces with peonies at nearly double the cost. “...when apparently you’re just fine with scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“Okay, I didn’t say—”

“Should we cancel our tux fittings while we’re at it? Maybe Roland can lend us a couple of stained flannels to wear instead.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, which he knows isn’t exactly helping, but he can’t stop himself either. “I just meant—”

“Maybe Bob could officiate. Would that be fine? We could have the ceremony on the railroad tracks. How about that? Would that be fine, too? Have ourselves a fine reception in the motel lobby. Twyla can whip up a batch of whatever fine smoothies she wants and we can all spend the evening puking in the bushes.”

A little voice buried somewhere deep in his gut tries to tell Patrick this is just an inevitable result of the stress of planning, that David is feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, but he can’t hear it over the roar in his ears. He’s spent nearly every day since his proposal helping David plan their wedding, and now suddenly David is acting as if Patrick doesn’t care, as if he wouldn’t give David the entire god damn world if he could. But he can’t. He can’t do that—he hates that he can’t do that—and for David to insinuate that this is somehow because Patrick doesn’t care enough about him or about the wedding sets fire to every ounce of indignation that has piled up in his chest like kindling. 

“Should I just give back my engagement rings while I’m at it? I could wear a mismatched set of twist-ties or maybe carve the middle out of a bottle cap or—”

Patrick slams the watering can down on the shelf, hard enough to make the little ceramic planters jump. “Damn it, David. Stop being ridiculous, this isn’t about—”

“Ridiculous?” David squawks, his tone now approaching something only dogs can hear, and Patrick throws his hands in the air. “Oh, now I’m being ridiculous. Well, I’m sorry that it’s ridiculous to want to have a nice wedding. I’m sorry that it’s ridiculous to want to hire people who take pride in their work instead of just anyone who offers to do it at the lowest possible price. I’m sorry that it’s ridiculous to want everything to be perfect for you. For us. That it’s ridiculous to want to celebrate our marriage and the start of the rest of our lives together or to want pictures to look back on and remember the happiest day of my life when this all comes crashing down—”

“What?” 

Every visible inch of David’s skin flashes red and hot as he realizes what he’s said. “I didn’t— I don’t—”

“Let me get this straight.” Somehow Patrick’s words manage to come out steady even though it feels like a tornado is ripping through him, leaving a messy, jumbled trail of disaster in its wake. As he picks through the pieces, he isn’t sure if what he’s left holding on to is a mangled remnant of anger or hurt or sorrow. “You want to hire a photographer, who’s way over our budget, because you think that someday that’s all you’re going to have left of this. Of us.”

The silence that follows is all the answer he needs, and it takes all of his strength to keep standing. He’d asked David to marry him. He’d called him the love of his life, and when David had still asked if he was sure, he’d told him it was the easiest decision he’d ever made. And he’d meant it. He’d meant it with every single microscopic atom in his body, and still somehow it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough, and it feels like guilt. Like utter fucking heartbreak.

“David, I don’t know how else to tell you or— or to show you that this is it for me. That I love you and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“No, I know.” David breathes the words into the air like a secret, tiny and trembling, and Patrick steps closer to hear them better. “I— I know that. I do. It’s just...” 

His eyes are wet, just tinged red around the rims, and Patrick finds himself close enough to brush his thumbs across the thin, delicate skin there. To cradle his fingers around the curve of David’s jaw and wait, counting out the beats of his pulse against his fingertips. 

“I lost everything. Once before.” 

This isn’t something they talk about, and Patrick holds his breath. They’ve had plenty of conversations about David’s life Before and David’s life After, but they don’t talk about that demarcation line. They don’t talk about the day the CRA had shown up at the door and pulled the Roses’ entire plush, elegant, Persian rug of a life out from beneath their feet. 

“One day I was happy, or at least I— I thought I was. And the next I had nothing.” He breathes out a heavy, shaking breath, and Patrick traces his hands down to David’s arms, steadying him. “Clothes and pictures. That’s all. That’s all I could hold on to. As a reminder. That’s all I had left.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Patrick says again, but David shakes his head.

“You don’t know that.”

“I—”

“You don’t,” David insists, steely and sharp. “This isn’t about…” He claws at the air between them, like he’s trying to grab hold of the right words. “...you getting tired of me or— or deciding to leave or something.” 

The tension in Patrick’s spine relaxes a little at that, but David only seems to wind himself tighter. 

“It’s— It’s the choices we don’t have. The ones we don’t make. It’s... the things that are— that are taken from us.” His hands clutch at the front of Patrick’s shirt, two tight fists full of fabric, like he can hold Patrick here somehow. Patrick can feel the desperation in it, the fear and the hope and the pleading, and he finally gets it. He gets it.

David hadn’t done anything wrong, and still his entire life had been upended. His family hadn’t done anything wrong, and still everything they had made and earned and loved had been dragged right from their hands, slipping between their grasping fingers like grains of sand.

David isn’t afraid of fucking this up somehow; he’s afraid that even if he does everything right, that even if he and Patrick have the happiest marriage that’s ever existed, some cruel twist of fate is going to come along and draw another thick, black demarcation line right through his life. That no matter what he does, someday, even one far, far down the line, it will all be split into Before and After once again. That all he’ll have left to show for it are photographs to remind him of the joy and the love he’d once held before it too had been torn from his hands.

“Okay,” Patrick says, an apology and a concession in one, and he pulls David into his arms, pressing a kiss against the tender curve of his neck and splaying his hands wide across his back, trying to hold on to as much of him as he possibly can. This isn’t a fear that Patrick can soothe, he realizes—he can’t love it out of David somehow, as much as he might want to. All he can do is make every day of Before the best that it can possibly be and hope that David never actually has to see the After. “If it’s that important to you, we’ll find somewhere else in the budget that we can cut back. I want you to— to have what you need. What makes you feel safe.” He pulls back enough that he can press a gentle kiss to David’s mouth and wipe away the wet tracks along his cheeks. “I love you, best.”

“I know you do.”

“I do,” Patrick says, just to see the way it makes the corners of David’s mouth twitch up even as the rest of it curves down. “I do, I do, I do.” He leans in to kiss him again, sweet and lingering, until he can’t feel a frown hiding there anymore.

David closes his eyes and presses his forehead to Patrick’s. “Thank you, button.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t thank me just yet. If we’re going to make this work, we might have to revisit that flannel idea.”

David’s laugh is small, but it feels like a piece of them slipping back into place. “I’d rather go naked,” he says.

Patrick grins wide and warm at the thought. “That might be the best idea you’ve had yet.”

#this one's mildly angsty #schitt's creek #schitts creek #david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #rebel writes #wsltstty #and as usual my apologies if the cut doesn't show up on mobile #long post

[hazelnmae]

Lies Travel Faster: Chapter Eleven

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s life seems to be on the upswing when she takes a job with Birmingham’s notorious Shelby Company Ltd. But when she falls for her boss, CEO and ruthless gangster, Tommy Shelby, she finds herself wrapped up in a tangled web of danger and deceit. After all, lies travel faster than the truth.

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character; Tommy/Assistant Trope (it’s a hill I’ll die on)

Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death

CHAPTER 11 (read Chapter 10 or start at the beginning with Chapter 1)

Sophie had to drag herself out of bed the next morning, physically tired and mentally drained from the prior day. It had been a day of ups and downs–friendship and celebration interrupted by surprise aggression from a source she’d never suspected of being anything but kind. She’d struggled to sleep, turning his words over in her mind, until she’d had enough and called him for some answers.

Robert had apologized–told her he was “so in love with her” that he couldn’t stand the idea of her kissing another man. He told her he insisted she quit her job with Shelby Company not out of jealousy, but out of fear for her. Just because they didn’t have a massive enemy like Changretta at the moment, didn’t mean more weren’t coming.

In the end, she chose to believe him.

And now she made her way to work with a ring shining on her finger, announcing Robert’s claim of her to all of Birmingham. It bothered her mostly because she knew people would notice it and she’d have to talk about it–with everyone.

Including Tommy.

She clutched the resignation letter in her hand, wondering if it’d be best to deliver it at the beginning or end of the day. If she gave it to him early, she’d have to deal with his air of disappointment all day. But she worried that waiting would hurt him–he’d expect her to be more honest.

Despite all the things running through her mind, numbness settled in and enveloped her senses. She’d lived the last three months in a foggy haze as life happened to and around her, without any catalyst on her part. Today was no different.

As soon as Sophie sat at her desk, Tommy beckoned her back up and to his office. It seemed he was in one of his moods and Sophie briefly reconsidered sharing her news  at all.

She grabbed a journal, stuffing the letter into the pages as she made her way to his desk. Without looking up, or even noticing the ring, Tommy began.

“I understand congratulations are in order,”

Sophie closed the journal realizing this wasn’t about business–just what she feared.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she mumbled, concentrating on her fingers as she fidgeted with the ring.

“Do you love him?”

Sophie scoffed and looked away. “What kind of fucking question is that?” She asked.

“It’s a simple fucking question. Either you do or you don’t.”

Sophie sat quietly. This was not the direction she’d expected the conversation to take.

“So you don’t,” Tommy continued.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed as he leaned forward. “But you didn’t say you do.”

No, she didn’t love Robert. A few months ago she may have thought she could, eventually, but she’d learned otherwise. The love of her life sat across that desk from her and there would never be another. But she couldn’t let him see her fall apart. Resolute in staying strong, she swallowed the breath she’d been holding and waited for his next assault.

But it didn’t come. He simply returned her stare, for what felt like an eternity.

“I could–,” she finally said, not sure where the rest of her response was going. But Tommy interrupted before she could finish.

“But you don’t,” he said.

She just looked away from him now. Anger began to overtake the sadness she’d felt just moments before. “Did you have actual business to attend to or may I return to my desk?” She asked.

“You may go.”

She stood, still not making eye contact, and turned to leave the office.

“We can talk about this later,” he said.

She finally turned to face him. “No we won’t talk about this, Tommy,” she said.

Tommy rose from his chair, circling the desk to stand directly in front of her. Now, only inches away, Tommy whispered, “You can’t marry him.”

She had to marry him.

“Sophie, I want you to be happy,” he continued.

“I’m trying,” she whispered in return.

Tommy stood a little straighter and cleared his throat as if trying to swallow the words he really wanted to say.

“Fine, make me a promise,” he added, after a moment. “If he is ever cruel, if he ever raises a fucking hand to you. Raises so much as his voice. If he ever behaves like he did yesterday–,”

“Yesterday–,” she interrupted.

“If he’s ever cruel, you’ll tell me,” he continued. “Promise me.”

He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to return his direct gaze.

“I promise,” she finally said, voice barely a whisper.

Tommy pulled her into an embrace, squeezing the journal between their bodies. She returned the hug with her free arm and buried her face in his neck. She took in his scent for what she thought would be the last time.  

As they pulled apart, Tommy leaned in and kissed her softly. It wasn’t fueled with passion like their last kiss, but was laced with affection. It was soft and warm and lasted longer than it should. She was an engaged woman, after all. But she did little to stop it, allowing them both the closure they needed.

When they finally separated, she fumbled to find the letter in her notebook. Handing it to him and clearing her throat, she said, “I need to give you this.”

His brow began to furrow.

“It’s my resignation,” she said, before he could ask.

His eyes searched her for something, anything, but held the facade in place despite the ease with which it could have crumbled.

“I see,” was all he could muster in response.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand. “For everything.”

Tommy only nodded as she left the office. Sophie fought the urge to turn back, to look at him as she left. Instead she grabbed her purse and walked out into the street back toward her flat.

If she had turned, she would have seen a version of Tommy she’d never seen. He stood holding the letter, not strong enough to open it, the bright blue of his eyes dulled by tears.

_________________

The wedding was beautiful.

Robert had money and wanted to make a show of everything. Sophie had just as soon been married at the courthouse with a few witnesses, but Robert’s whole family insisted on a grand affair.

She’d invited the Shelbys, as they were the closest thing to family she’d known in adulthood, and was pleased that many attended. One pair of blue eyes hadn’t made an appearance, but it was just as well. Sophie didn’t think she could have married another man with the pull of those eyes on her.

Tommy read about the wedding in the society pages, making careful note of Sophie’s face in the photo. She’d only resigned a few weeks prior and he hadn’t yet forgotten the way her smile could light up a room, though that wasn’t the smile she wore in the photo.

He was surprised to see her holding lilies. He’d imagined her with a bouquet of peonies on her wedding day.

“You ready to talk about it?” Ada asked, walking into his office unannounced to find him looking at the photo. She didn’t know it was the hundredth time he’d stopped what he was doing to stare at it. Each time he’d thought about how it should be him standing beside her–but reminded himself how she was better off with someone like Robert.

“Talk about what, Ada?” he asked, placing the paper in the waste basket beside his desk and taking up a lit cigarette from the ashtray.

“So, no,” Ada responded simply, taking the chair across from him so they could conduct their meeting.

“Nothing to discuss,” he mumbled through the cigarette hanging from his lips.

_________________

After Grace died, Polly had been worried her nephew would never love again. She was sure, then, that Tommy would live the rest of his life pushing people away. She feared for little Charlie, that he wouldn’t remember how loving his father could be–how big of a heart he really had for his family. That was the Tommy she’d always chosen to remember, even when he was being particularly obstinate and difficult.

All that had changed when Sophie came along. She’d watched her nephew finally open his heart again in ways she never thought he would. It’d happened gradually. Since that day at the Garrison, she’d noticed it more and more, but she knew it hadn’t happened at any specific moment. They’d both made their way in, inch by inch, though neither was likely to admit it.

But unlike it’s soft and steady beginning, it was over in a flash.

Then he began to spiral.

Much like when Grace died, Tommy struggled to find peace after Sophie’s wedding. Polly knew he wasn’t sleeping, as the dark circles were making their way back to the thin skin under his eyes. She only noticed he was drinking more because she saw the crates of his gin delivered directly to the office from the distillery. The frequency of the delivery had increased and she knew it wasn’t just him tweaking the recipe again.  

She sat in Sophie’s old desk chair ruminating over one of those bottles and thinking about her nephew’s heart, when a voice startled her from behind.

“I didn’t think anyone would be here,” Sophie said quietly, looking down at her feet.

“It’s just me, love,” Polly responded. “All the others are out for the evening.”

The late hour was the primary reason she’d stopped by. Sophie hadn’t expected any of the family to still be in the office at this time of night.

“I just left a few things and thought this might be a good time to collect them,” She said.

Polly just nodded in response, and it struck Sophie just how alike she and Tommy truly were.

Polly rose from the desk allowing Sophie the access she needed and watched as the young woman removed a few small personal effects from the desk. It was probably good Tommy hadn’t rummaged through the drawers himself. He would have either burned her things out of spite or held them in his own desk to obsess over in his drunken sadness.

“How are you, love?” Polly asked her, though her appearance seemed to answer the question before it was asked. Sophie lacked the radiance she’d previously possessed.

It was Sophie’s turn to simply nod.

The two stood in silence for a few moments wrestling with what to say to one another. Polly hopelessly wanted to tell her how much Tommy had loved her, how much they all loved her, and how desperate they were to have her back.

Sophie fought back the desire to ask after Tommy and Charlie.

Clearing her throat, Sophie said, “Well, I should be off.”

“Right.”

She had her hand on the doorknob when she turned back. “That’s false advertisement, by the way,” Sophie said nodding toward the bottle still in the Polly’s hands.

Polly just looked down at the bottle trying to understand as Sophie slipped out the door. When Polly flipped the bottle over, rereading the label, she understood:

“SHELBY COMPANY LIMITED | GIN | DISTILLED FOR THE ERADICATION OF SEEMINGLY INCURABLE SADNESS.”

____________________

The rain had been falling in spurts, forcing Sophie to open her umbrella and close it again over and over, unsure whether or not she really needed it. She stood by the curb, opening it once again when she spotted him. While he looked like anyone else from the back, dark wool coat, dark knit cap, dark hair, it was his walk that gave him away. His walk was one of confidence–bravado, really. She’d know Tommy Shelby’s walk anywhere.

She called his name.

Tommy stopped, looking about to find who had called for him. After checking ahead of him and across the street, he finally turned to find Sophie. She hadn’t moved, too frozen in shock by her own voice that had called out without her permission. He walked toward her.

“Hello, Sophie,” he spoke first.

“Hi, Tommy” she responded with a smile. “I heard the Shelby Company had taken some clubs in London. I certainly never expected to run into you, though,” she continued.

“A pleasant surprise indeed,” he responded.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Sophie panicking about what to say, Tommy finishing the last of his cigarette.

“I miss you,” she finally decided to say, though she did it with a smile that wouldn’t reveal her sadness.

Tommy could only muster a nod in response. He couldn’t tell her he’d missed her too. That he hadn’t gone a day, an hour really, without thinking of her since she resigned.  That seeing her picture in the paper next to Robert had broken him. That he’d been saddened to hear she was moving to London two months ago when Robert was elected MP. That he’d walked the streets in London hoping to run into her. That he’d seen her once, at a cafe, but couldn’t gather the strength to say hello.

Instead he just looked at the cobbled sidewalk and shuffled his feet.

“I’m staying with Ada,” he finally said.

“I’m sure Karl is happy to have you there,” she said in response. But Tommy hadn’t heard her. He was too startled by the fact that she’d placed her hand on his arm and pulled him in closer as she said it. His heart started to race.

It wasn’t until he found himself standing under her umbrella that he realized the rain had picked up. She’d simply been pulling him under for protection.

Standing so close to her now, Tommy realized he couldn’t let this moment end. He had to see her again. Had to be near her. So he made a bold decision.

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight, at the Eden Club?” he asked.

She was caught off guard by the invitation, but quick to accept. “I’d love to,” she said, “Robert is out of town campaigning. I’m afraid I’m on my own.”

“I know,” Tommy responded. Removing his cigarette case and preparing to spark another smoke. He needed something to distract him from the urge to pull her hard against him and kiss her. “Seven thirty, then,” he said as he lit the cigarette now dangling from his full lips. “I’ll send a car.”

Sophie smiled and nodded in response. He made eye contact with her once again and held her gaze a little too long before finally turning to walk away.

“It really is good to see you,” he said as he turned, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. 

______________________

Dinner at the Eden Club was perfectly pleasant. Fun, even. John and Arthur were there, too. Tommy told her he thought it best, not wanting rumors to circulate about her being out alone with him. She was touched by his sincerity and thoughtfulness. Robert would probably lose his shit if he found out she’d spent time with Tommy. He was always frustrated when she came home from an afternoon with Ada. Tommy would probably send him over the edge.

She’d danced with all three brothers, took delicious drink, eaten an extraordinary meal, and enjoyed every second of it.

Tommy chose to drive her home himself, making excuses as to why he was going in that direction. Sophie was buzzing too much from adrenaline and gin to protest.

Tommy turned off the engine as they pulled up outside her house. He turned his body toward her.

“I shouldn’t walk you to the door,” he said. “I don’t want the wrong eyes to see.”

“Of course,” she responded, sliding across the seat to hug him goodbye.

She wrapped her arms around him and he returned the gesture. Just like in his office, they stayed close as they pulled away from the hug. This time it was Sophie who leaned in for the kiss. But Tommy pulled back.

“You need to go,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing the small hairs that had fallen around her face. He pushed one of those locks of hair behind her ear with a single finger.

“Yes, I should,” she said, without making any effort to move, let alone leave.

“Just fucking go,” Tommy breathed now, closing his eyes and hoping she’d be gone when he opened them.

She finally pulled away from him and gathered her purse and gloves.

“Good night, Tommy,” she said, taking one last look and exiting the car.

Tommy watched as she walked to her door, unlocked it, and closed it behind her. He watched for a few minutes more, debating whether he should follow.

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he fought to shed his warm coat, opting to drive in the cold rather than deal with the sweet scent of peonies she’d left behind, and drove into the dark street toward Ada’s house.

_____________________

Chapter 12

Only a couple more chapters to go, lovelies. Thanks so much for following along!! Feedback always so appreciated!! XOXO

For you: @justanothershelby @l0tsofpennies  @porcelainjokersmadness 

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #polly gray #lies travel faster #HazelNMae

[numba99]

The Arrangement Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: You’re an aspiring model in NYC who is offered an opportunity of a lifetime - an arranged relationship with a famous Ranger. Things start out rough and are further complicated by the fact you’re already in a relationship. Will you be able to figure things out or will it all end in disaster? Word count:2,787

A/n: hi sorry I have been MIA for so long take this as my peace offering. Also for the sake of this we gonna pretend like media is bigger into hockey players social lives okay tysm

After your date with Mika in Central Park, you waiting for an angry confrontation from Eric that never came. There were a few tweets floating around with the photos of you two (which was still incredibly weird for you), but he never mentioned it. He must not have seen it, and for that you were incredibly thankful. It would be hard to continue the whole Mika is an asshole story when the two of you were joyfully tossing popcorn at each other.

It was only a few days later when your next date was set up. You were told you would be having dinner at a restaurant with Mika, which made you nervous. Not that you thought it would be a bad time, but because that felt a lot more like a real date. You knew how it would look to Eric, and you weren’t sure you he would believe anything you tried to tell him. Your only hope would be that he would remain oblivious to it as he seemed to be right now.

You stood in front of your closet, looking for a “sexy but casual” outfit, as Alice had instructed you to wear. You were going to a dinner at a restaurant that was frequented by many celebrities who visited New York, though you’ve never been yourself. It wasn’t exactly in your budget. Apparently, the restaurant’s vibe was sexy casual and you just had to dress the part. Whatever that meant

You finally decided on your favorite pair of black skinny jeans that hugged you body in all the right ways, a plunging dark red body suit, a leather jacket and black pumps. Black and red was sexy right? You thought to yourself as you dressed yourself. You checked the mirror and you had to admit it, you felt pretty hot.

Just as you finished all the last touched, there was a knock at the door. You were praying it wasn’t Eric because you knew he would have a lot of questions if he saw you about to go out dressed like this. To your relief, the person behind the door was Fred, who was a lot shorter than you had thought.

“Hey Fred!” you greeted cheerfully, “You look a lot different standing up.”

Fred chuckled. “Yeah I get that a lot. I was just going to text you as usual, but Mika wanted me to give you these flowers,” he said handing over a bouquet of red dahlias, “He would have given you them himself, but apparently he’s not allowed to yet. I really don’t get this shit.”

You laughed. “Neither do I. Thanks Fred, I’ll just be a second.” Fred nodded and waited outside the door for you. You pulled out the little card which read, “Dahlias symbolize staying graceful under pressure. Seemed appropriate. - Mika.” You smiled, replaced the vase filled with the peonies (which were way past their prime) with your new bouquet.

You then headed out, following Fred to the car. He opened the door and helped you slide in, which you were really grateful for since these heels weren’t always your best friend.

“You know, it’s a little spooky how you managed to pick flowers that matched my outfit,” you teased Mika as Fred shut the door behind you.

“It’s a talent,” he shrugged, laughing lightly. The two of you made light conversation as you were driven to your destination. Mika, of course, had eaten there a few times before and promised you you were going to love it. He did, however, say that there was almost always paparazzi there, so you should brace yourself.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you realized what he was talking about. A bunch of people were standing outside, cameras in hand. Just waiting to take pictures, pictures of you. You tensed up, not sure you were ready for what was on the other side of the car door.

Sensing your nerves, Mika shifted over closer to you. “Are you alright?” Mika asked.

“Yeah I- I just guess there were more people than I expected,” you replied, trying not to allow yourself to get too flustered.

“I know it’s kind of scary,” Mika replied, “But I’ll be with you the whole time, okay? And if it makes you feel any better, they’ll probably be disappointed it’s only us. They really want actors and singers, we are boring.” Mika laughed at himself, making you smile despite the nerves.

“I’ve never been so happy to be boring. I think I’ll be okay though,” you said.

“I know you will,” Mika assured you, placing his hand on the door, “Ready?” You nodded, and with that the door swung open. Mika stepped out first, grabbing the attention of the paparazzi.

“Mika!”

“Mika over here!”

“Who’s the girl?”

There rapid fire questions buzzed in your ear as you were bombarded with flashes form their cameras. Mika’s hand landed on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the door. You kept your head down as you walked, hoping by some miracle they wouldn’t get a good picture of your face.

Finally, you made it to the safety of the restaurant. “I think I’m going to go blind,” you said, trying to blink the flash out of your eyes.

Mika chuckled, “You’ll get used to it.” You shook your head, as you were led to your table wondering how you could ever get used to that.

“I thought you said no one would know it is you?” you asked as you weaved through tables in the dimly lit restaurant.

“Hey I’m not that boring,” Mika teased, “New York media is crazy though. Big sports town and people care about the players. Kinda weird, but it is what it is.” You nodded, guessing that was true. In your time in New York you have quickly realized people take sports very seriously here. 

When you arrived at the table, Mika pulled out the chair for you. “Never got a chance to tell you, you look great tonight.” You looked down, hiding your blush, as Mika walked around to his seat.

“So do you,” you replied, taking him in. He wore dark jeans and a white shirt, with the buttons opened, revealing a necklace dangling over his ski. It was so simple, yet he looked so good. It suddenly hit you how attractive Mika was, with his dark mess of hair and hazel eyes that were damn near hypnotic. There was something so enticing about him. You fidgeted in your seat, uncomfortable with this revelation.

Luckily, the waiter came over, distracting you from your thoughts. You ordered drinks - just water for you, seeing as you were under orders not to drink while you were together. Can’t control people when they’re drunk, you guessed.

“So this is how the other half lives,” you said, looking around the very expensive looking room.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Mika smirked.

“Not bad,” you agreed, “But, truthfully, I’d be just as fine at home in sweats ordering in.”

“That sounds pretty nice right about now,” Mika replied, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing muscular forearms.

The waiter came back around, asking for orders. You hadn’t really looked at the menu, so you just asked for the first thing your eyes landed on. Mika picked what he wanted without having to look at the menu.

“How has your week been?” you asked as the waiter walked away.

“Tiring,” Mika admitted, “Coming back from road games is always tough.”

“IS the team playing well at least?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “We are kind of in rebuild mode. Could be worse, but definitely could be a lot better.”

“That must be frustrating,” you replied.

“Yeah it kinda sucks sometimes,” Mika replied, “But it’s part of being an athlete I guess. I have some great teammates, though, that makes it a lot easier.”

“That’s good,” you replied, “Maybe I’ll have to come out to a game one of these days.”

“You’ve never been to a hockey game?” Mika asked.

You shook your head, “Was never really my thing. My boyfriend goes occasionally, but it’s more of his friends that are into it. I’ve never really bothered to go.”

“We are definitely going to have to change that,” Mika replied.

“I think you just want to show off for me,” you teased, feeling bold out of nowhere.

Mika chuckled, “What can I say, I enjoy an ego stroke.”

“I won’t be doing any stroking… wait that doesn’t sound right.” The two of you erupted in laughter at your poor choice of phrasing. “Shit okay I blew that one. What I meant was I’ll go to a game and give my honest opinion. You gotta earn your stroking in this house.”

“Fair deal” Mika replied, flashing a dazzling white smile, “So what have you been up to this week?”

“Just a few little photo shoots here and there, nothing special,” you told him.

“You don’t sound too excited about it,” Mika noted.

You shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for every opportunity I get, but little campaign ads aren’t what I really want to be doing. I want to do like high fashion things, walk runways, things that are a little more interesting.”

“I know you said you don’t want anything because of someone else, but I do have some connections at Gucci,” Mika told you, “I could get you in the door for their next casting call. I could set it up so they wouldn’t know I sent you, so if you got the gig, it would be because of you, not me.”

“Mika I-I don’t even know what to say, you don’t have to do that,” you replied in disbelief.

“I want to,” Mika insisted, “I think you deserve something nice after having to go through all this.”

“That would be so amazing, I would appreciate it more than you could know,” you told him, feeling excitement bubbling up inside you. You’ve wanted to do high fashion for so long and a brand like Gucci could open so many doors for you. The thought alone made you giddy.

“Consider it done.”

Mika began to tell you about how he’s gotten close with the creative directors of Gucci over the years, and you listened intently. You were love fashion, and found all the behind the scenes information so interesting. Plus, it helps to know this stuff in your profession. The two of you chatted all about fashion throughout the meal, which you both equally enjoyed.

“It’s so nice to finally have someone to talk about these kind of thing with,” you gushed as you finished your food.

“Eric not a fashion man?”

“If you consider three pairs of jeans and some t shirts or flannels fashion, than sure he is a fashion man,” you joked.

“Do you love him?” Mika asked. You stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the blunt question.

“Yeah, I love him, but,” you paused, trying to think of the right way to say it.

“You know, my mom always told me that anything a person says before the word but doesn’t mean anything,” Mika replied. You frowned, not liking that he was picking at a topic you would rather not think about.

“I love him,” you restated, formulating a way to explain it without saying but, “It’s just that, sometimes he doesn’t always feel like the guy I first met. We can be really different at times, but opposites attract right?”

“Right,” Mika nodded, checking the watch on his wrist, “I think it’s about time we get going.” You nodded, glad to avoid a conversation about Eric. Mika pulled out his wallet and tossed down two $100 bills, as if they were nothing.

“So we’re supposed to say we’re just friends on the way out, right?” you asked, trying to recall what Alice had told you to do.

“Right, but I should warn you,” Mika began, stopping right before the the exit, “There are going to be more people out there than before now that they know we are here.” You gulped, wondering how there could possibly be more than before.

“Great,” you sighed sarcastically.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’ll be right here,” Mika said extending his hand to you. You took it, giving him a soft smile. Mika turned towards the door and the second it opened flashes were all you could see. He was right, there were a lot more than before, including screaming fans.

Mika held your hand tightly as you walked to the car, which thankfully Fred had waiting right outside. He held his other arm out in front of him, clearing a path for the two of you to walk. You heard your name being called in the crowd and your heart dropped as you realized they figure out who you were.

“Mika, y/n! Over here!”

“How was dinner? Was this a date?”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

“We’re just friends,” Mika replied, in the direction of the voice. It was impossible to tell where exactly it was coming from. You looked up and nodded in agreement, grateful had his wits about him enough to say something.

“I seriously don’t know how you’re not blind,” you stated once you finally were secure in the car.

“I think I’ve built up an immunity at this point,” Mika replied, “You handled it like a champ though.”

“Thanks,” you replied shyly, “Kind of freaky they know my name now.” You frowned, knowing this would not go over well with a certain someone.

“You may want to put your social media on private,” Mika suggested.

You pulled out your phone, but got distracted by missed calls and texts from Eric. “Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Mika asked.

“Eric must have found out, and he’s not happy,” you sighed. You didn’t want to read them all, knowing they probably weren’t very nice (the first one you saw was ‘come see me when you’re done cheating on me,’ and you decided to stop there. “Fred, could you take me to my boyfriend’s house? It’s just down the block from my place,” you asked. Fred nodded and you slumped in your seat, not looking forward to this.

“Are you going to be okay?” Mika asked.

“Yeah, I mean I get it, this doesn’t exactly look great. I’ll just have to tell him something that will hopefully calm him down,” you sighed. As you finished talking, Fred pulled up to Eric’s building, sending a wave of nerves through you.

Mika squeezed your hand. “You can do it. If you need anything, feel free to call me,” he said. You thanked him before saying goodbye and slipping out of the car.

The elevator ride up to Eric’s seemed longer than usual. Each floor you passed made your heart beat a little faster. Finally you were outside his door, and although you were debating running home, you found yourself knocking on the door.

Eric answered almost instantly, and he was fuming. “Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you insisted, stepping in and closing the door behind you so his nosy neighbors couldn’t listen in.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you’re on a fucking date with another guy,” he snapped.

“It’s not, really, it’s just a part of the interview process,” you told him.

“What sort of interview involves you dressing like that and going out to eat at an expensive restaurant?” Eric questioned.

“I don’t know, I just do what my agent tells me. It’s all business, it’s just how these rich and famous people do it,” you replied, anger bubbling up in you. Okay, sure, you were kind of lying. But there wasn’t anything going on between you and Mika and that was the truth.

“Are you fucking him?”

“What? No, are you crazy?” you snapped, pissed he would think so little of you.

“At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he replied.

“You know what? I don’t fucking need this right now. You clearly don’t trust me and I am not about to be yelled at by someone who doesn’t even care about me,” you spat turning towards the door.

Eric yelled something nasty after you but you could barely hear it, on account of how angry you were. You were seeing red as you made your way home. You tried to walk as quickly as you could, but the heels were not helping. By the time you made it to your apartment, anger had mixed with sadness.

When you reached your bed, you flopped down, tears spilling out of your eyes until sleep finally took you.

#The Arrangement #m zibanejad #mika zibanejad imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #new york rangers imagine

[iamsonyeondone]

plus one // kim doyoung

♥  florist! doyoung x wedding planner! reader 

♥  fluff!

♥  2.5k words

as much as your job required you to run multiple errands and search for whatever the bridezillas were so persistent to having

it was still something you had fun doing especially when you get clients who were unexpectedly easy-going

but even if they werent, you tried your best to look at the brightside

and maybe also confide in the multiple shop owners you had gotten to know through your job

irene, the owner of the boutique that you would always recommend to your clients, is always a sweetheart to you whenever she sees you drop by to check on the dresses

when i meant sweetheart, i meant the kind where she really takes care of you like a motherly figure

“are you sure you’ve gotten enough to eat? wendy stopped by with lunch and she brought some extra. have lunch with me?”

or “did you stain your dress shirt again? change into this one and i’ll take care of that stain,” as she casually whips out detergent and fabric softener from in between the dresses????

but you also have the bakery where you accidentally become the food critic for kun because he cant trust his nephew's friends because they’ll eat anything edible

especially jaemin who may or may not have sneaked behind the counter to make his own concoction of coffee because kun wouldnt’t let them in

but thats because the last time they went into the kitchen, they nearly burnt the building down

anYways, whenever you meet kun its always the usual “try this” “yn what do you think?” “is it a little too sweet?”

and you try your best to give whatever knowledge you have from cakes that your clients have ordered

and kun would have this big smile, thanking you before he rushes off to the kitchen again

aside from the two most loveliest people you’ve ever met on the job, theres was one other person who wasn’t as lovely

or at least not as welcoming

kim dongyoung, the florist you always order from but you just wished he would be a little less,,, sarcastic

it’s not like you hated him for being him

you just cant wrap your mind around the fact that nearly every sentence that comes out from his mouth would be sarcastic

like that one time you couldn’t pronounce peonies and pronounced them as ponies instead and he looked at you with That Look

as if you couldn’t pronounce cat or something

“this isn’t a stable yn. if you wanted to see horses, this isn’t the place you should be going to,”

and sometimes he gets on your nerves when you call out to him and he just ignores you because you’re just dropping by to check on the bouquet order

and he just goes like “did yall hear sumn?”

but one day, when you were absolutely exhausted from tending to a third-level bridezilla aka the second worst kind, and you had your last stop at the flower shop

you went in as per usual and asked if doyoung had already prepared the bouquet you asked him to prepare the day before

and doyoung scoffs, “you think?” 

and it wasn’t even half as bad as he usually teased you

but you’re suddenly in tears and it most definitely caught doyoung off-guard

like he’s always seen you remain firm and strong no matter how annoying he gets most of the times

but to see you in shambles like this made him feel like the biggest douchebag on earth

instead of showing you the bouquet, he brings a tissue box from his desk and wipes your tears, repeating his apologies as much as he could

and as your sniffling and hiccuping from your breakdown, doyoung curses in his head

because he’s the biggest idiot, getting his heart shattered just by looking at your distress

“kun came by because he wasn’t on shift today and knew you would be coming later so he dropped off some bagels and coffee if you wanted. he said it was another experiment,”

while your throat still felt like a pit was stuck in it, you nodded your head slowly while doyoung fetched the paperbag and a cup from his desk

the two of you sat in silence while you nibbled on the bag, thinking to yourself to thank kun when you see him

and doyoung just sits on the opposite side, leaning back on his chair with his arms folded

and you feel like he’s burning a hole through your head with his eyes and couldnt help but take a few glances his way

and he’s just staring right at you

as if he was too far into dream land to notice you were looking back at him

the way his face looked a little solemn, which was unusual for you to see him in that state

that was until you remembered the little breakdown from earlier and your eyes shift away from his dark ones

you couldnt handle the silence any longer, fidgeting in your seat as you sipped your drink

“im...sorry for earlier. it was a rough day and-”

“i’m the one who was supposed to apologize, you don’t have to,” he cut you off, sighing as he combed through his hair with his fingers

“yeah but it must’ve been awkward seeing me be a crybaby,”

and doyoung bites his tongue from agreeing with you 

“we all have our moments, im just glad you dont see mine,” 

you gasp dramatically, placing a hand on your chest, an obvious attempt to lighten the mood

“kim dongyoung cries too,”

“ha ha very funny. I’m not a robot you know,” he rolled his eyes and somehow, seeing you with that growing smile on your face lifted a weight he didnt know had been on his shoulders

“anyways, i need to close up shop now so make sure you got all your things,” he waved his hand, dismissing you as he locked up the back room and packed his belongings

just as you slung your bag over your shoulder, a picture of him and kun as well as their friends were framed and put on his desk

and you weren’t sure how you weren’t able to spot such a striking photo full of a huge group of guys

but when you see doyoung smiling so brightly in the photo, you couldn’t help but smile as well

“if you’re done oggling my friends, you could maybe get out before you get locked in?” he raised a brow, leaving the door open as he waited for you to leave

as he locked the main doors, you couldnt help but imagine that big grin on his face

“why don’t you ever smile as often?” you questioned him out of the blue

“i dont see a need to.” he replied nonchalantly, walking off once the entrance was locked

“whatever floats your boat i guess. by the way...” you trailed off, stopping him in his tracks as he turned back to face you

“thank you, doyoung,” you smiled, waving him goodbye before rushing off to the other direction

for some reason, your cheeks felt like they had been lit on fire and the tightening feeling around your chest felt unfamiliar

and while you were too busy fussing over symptoms that would have been obvious to the public eye, doyoung watched your figure disappear while a smile grew on his face

with a small chuckle he turned the other way and huffed

“maybe smiling isnt that bad,” he mumbled under his breath, taking slower than usual in his walk back home

a week passes and said third-level bridezilla's wedding had finally arrived

and you've never felt more tired than you did in your entire college life

with barely 2 hours of sleep, you rushed around the venue with your clipboard in hand, checking things off your list once they were prepared

after the main hall had been done, it was finally your time to do your job as councellor for the bride but a tap on your shoulder stops you from rushing to the waiting room

"yn? cant believe you forgot something so important," doyoung smirks, pointing to a bouquet of fresh flowers in his other hand

you sigh, thanking him profusely as you took it carefully into your arms

your concealer wasnt doing a good job in hiding your dark circles, and the stray strands of hair that were sticking out from your once styled hair made you look unkempt

"is there anything else you need help with? im free for the rest of the day," doyoung asks without hesitation

remembering the mental breakdown you had that day was a good enough reason to ask you

"i dont- i dont think so but i need to go and see the bride before it starts and then check if the groom's ready and most importantly the rings and the ringbearers are probably with the groom too-"

"I'll check on the groom and the ringbearers, while you go tackle that monster in the waiting room," he chuckle

and you see this wide smile plastered on his face

and for a split second, your heart nearly jumps right out of your chest

but when the thought of the bride comes wrecking through, you thank him once again, running down the hallway with your clipboard close to your chest

while doyoung jogs off to find the groom, his heart racing for one reason only

as your calming the bride down with the second box of tissues, trying your best to maintain the makeup that the makeup artist had painstakingly done for 2 whole hours

doyoung was more than ready, already ensuring the groom’s outift as well as the ringbearer who was the groom’s adorable nephew

all that’s left was to wait for the event to begin

once the bride had calmed down and successfully did not wipe the hours of work on her face, you checked on the bridesmaids before heading off to the venue

just as you walked down the halls, you see doyoung walking ahead of you

as quietly as you could, you sneaked up behhind him, grabbing his shoulders and scaring him

yet doyoung didnt even make a sound

until you pouted and he couldnt resist letting out the most sarcastic yell paired with the most unamused expression

"sheesh, you could've just stopped at not reacting rather than give me the shittiest one you've ever given me," you huffed, brushing your stray strands of hair as the both of you walked side by side

"but it was entertaining seeing you fail, so it wasn't really a failure was it?" he teased

and yet the endearing gesture of his to brush the annoying strand of hair behind your ear is the only thing you can notice

"y-yeah whatever. besides, is everything ready on the groom’s side?” you questioned, avoiding his eyes

“he’s practically ready to say his vows right now. what about the bride? heard she had the sixth mental breakdown today,” he chuckled while you groaned, massaging your temples

“she started crying about her double chin because she’s been stress-eating the past week so the make-up artists had to contour her chin a little more,” your story made doyoung burst out laughing, and although it caught you by surprise, you laughed along, relishing in the rare moment

“let’s get this over and done with,” his smile still shining after his laughing fit

“we?” you raised a brow

“you really think you can handle this bridezilla alone?” he smirked

“let’s do this then,” with a final look and a loud thump of your heart, you and doyoung head over to the venue 

everything went on smoother than you had planned - the bride only started crying after her vows, the cute nephew didnt trip over his own two chubby feet and everything was done just as it did during rehearsals

you couldnt control the relieved smile on your lips and doyoung might have not be able to control his eyes from watching you every once in a while, his smile mirroring yours

“now all that’s left is the reception in two hours. see you later then?” you asked doyoung while everyone else scattered out of the venue

“of course you will. before i go, wear something blue,” he flashed you another smile before rushing out of the doors

did he...ask you that for the two of you to match?

you shake your head from the clouds while your heart raced once more

doyoung really has a way of creeping into your heart

as the reception began and you were walking from one end to another to ensure everything was ready, you dont notice doyoung walking in with a navy blue suit, his hair swept back

because if you did, you would have stopped entirely and knocked into one of the waiters

which was something you nearly did if it werent for one of the bride’s sisters

“did i see what i think i saw, yn?” in a second, doyoung was now in front of you and that damn smirk of his on display

“shut up, you didnt see anything. and anyways, why did you ask me to wear blue anyway? i had to ask irene to borrow me one,” you sighed, brushing off imaginary dust off of your outift to distract you from how good-looking doyoung had become

not like he wasnt good-looking in the first place

“to match with me obviously, i can’t come here uninvited so i guess i’m you’re plus one for now,” he shrugged when in reality, its making it hard for him to breathe and difficult for him to not only focus on you

“i completely forgot-”

“yn! thank you for helping my sister with her wedding- oh is this your boyfriend? is he the one in charge of the bouquet?” the sister’s bride grins wide while the two of you exchanged anxious looks

“y-yeah, he’s the one who arranged the bouquet. how is the outfit change going?” you mustered up a sweet smile to cover your raging heart as you linked arms with doyoung, nudging him to play along

“oh everything’s fine, dont worry about it. by the way, if you guys ever plan on tying the knot, dont fret to call me, i will gladly lend a helping hand,” but before she could go on about marriage, she was pulled to the side by her cousin, leaving you and doyoung 

“to make this easier, why dont i just be your actual plus one?” doyoung shrugged, sneaking his fingers to intertwine with yours instead, making you freeze on the spot

“what?” you nearly snap your head from turning to look at him

“did i stutter?” he squeezes your hand, a small smile adorning his face

“wait, the feelings are mutual?-” you stutter, still wide-eyed from his sudden confession

“oh god you’re such an idiot, but i guess you’re my idiot now,” he let out a tired chuckle, holding you by the waist and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple

kim dongyoung was actually a lovely florist

he just had no idea how to handle ‘feelings’

a/n: its been so long since i wrote that im having so much trouble making sense of my words but i hope you guys like it!!

#kpop #imagine #scenario #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #reader #reader insert #bulletpoint scenario #nct #nct 2018 #nct u #nct 127 #kim dongyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung

[lonelypond]

PhotoJazz, Chapter 5 (of 6)

Love Live, NicoMaki, 5.3K, 5/6

Summary: We have a gallery opening and a request.

THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU (REDUX)

Maki had slept sometime. Since LA. Before LA and after, that was how she broke everything down now. Before Nico had escaped the chains and wrapped herself around Maki’s every nerve and thought process. Enflamed, that’s what Maki was...obsession, passion, desire...she had no real words for this, no way to cope, no way to hold her head above this tsunami of memory and hope that clung to her, making every fantasy, every wish transparent. Not even the first time the potential pleasures of a woman’s body had overtaken rational thought, in Tokyo, at the start, when she swore never again to make that leap, have that feeling that made her shudder, the horror of only existing, detached, on the physical plane, of a one sided lust.

Eli kept nagging about the gallery opening so Maki was working. Framed photos due in two days, 10 days since her return from LA, no time passing since Nico burst from the water, pure drive, the moment, the breath, the shaky way Nico’s chest...that kept replaying in Maki’s mind. In an effort to not picture herself licking every drop of water SLOWLY from Nico’s torso, which honestly would last three seconds before Maki exploded and who knew what would happen, or what Nico would do or...IN AN EFFORT TO DETOUR THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT, derail it into a deep deep canyon, Maki had pulled up every other picture she’d taken of Nico, the eyes, the closeups, the candids snuck between poses, managed to track down the most exquisite red jewel, the Moussaieff Red Diamond, fortunately on display at the Smithsonian, have Eli talk her way into photographing the exhibit, an overnight trip to DC, a studio full of every red flower she could find on the Northshore, since the perfect pink was still eluding her, and seemed only to make an appearance in the presence of Nico’s lips.

The raw materials. Add Jazz, Nico hated jazz, she could play jazz and maybe it would keep the Nico fantasies at bay. “The Very Thought Of You” over and over again, every cover she could find. Umi had fled the repetitiveness one day after stopping in to check on her. Slices and slivers of diamond, and petals of roses and peonies and dahlias and daylilies and hyacinths and then those eyes, sparkling, sliding in between diamond facets and floral faces, Maki was creating a whirlwind, swirling to a too rapid, too panicked, too heartbeat like beat of “The Very Thought Of You” cover that she pounded out on her piano instead of breaths.

One near hologram quality animation. Eight frames. Nico the essence, the essential, but only if you could tell ruby diamond and ruby iris apart, and even Maki couldn’t. She was proud of her art, Nico had said not recognizable so Maki had grafted her non reproducible charms into a priceless treasure, made only richer by the deeper, human feeling behind it. Maki could sense that when she looked into Nico’s eyes, in frame 1, from the Houdini shoot, and frame 8, when Nico had opened her eyes in her apartment, makeup and pretense stripped, trusting Maki, Nico’s expression open and inviting, a warmth of bemused softness . And that was where Maki was lost....between the opening and closing frames of the rose diamond nico...could she call it rose diamond smile… would anyone know...would Nico care...could she ask her...no, more volume, some random song without words, only depths and feelings, shaking to the ceiling as Maki curled into a cave of ruby walls, mirror images misleading her, calling her deeper, in to drown.

AT LONG LAST LOVE

Eli was back. With Her. The cause of all this. Nozomi. At the opening. Maki had delivered, at dawn, leaving Levine barely enough time to hang things properly. And she had been less than thrilled when Maki informed her that the no version of the completed Diamond Rose was for sale. The lenticular prints Maki had made of the eight key frames were a huge hit, which made Levine a little happier, and now Maki was in a dark corner, watching as the projected animation rotated through its special light show, pleased at how Nico’s eyes melded into the facets of the Moussaif, adding a depth that made the gem almost seem animate.

Eli had tried introducing Nozomi, but Maki had nearly snarled, and even though Nozomi was more than willing to keep up the chatter, Eli had reluctantly pulled her away, to introduce her to Levine. It was an Eli, Maki’s manager, night and keeping the photographer in a calm place was paramount.

And that lasted until the moment Nico Yazawa walked through the door, followed by half a dozen chattering hangers on. Maki startled, as she felt the focus shift from her art; Levine froze; Nozomi trilled a high pitched “Nico-chi.” The miniature marauder in question waved at Nozomi, but Maki knew it was half hearted as Nico’s eyes were searching the room, stopping briefly here and there, to register a photo existed, but in targeting mode until she found Maki’s once sanctuary, now corner. Which Nico did, striding right up, blocking egress, hand out, Nozomi watching curiously, Eli open mouthed, Maki had a hand reaching up for her hair and a bottled water in the other so there was no defense when Nico stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss on Maki’s reddening cheek, and squeeze her shoulder. Finally Maki managed to shuffle around Nico, to escape the trapped feeling.

“The party can start now.” Did Nico always say that? Nico slid an arm through Maki’s and dragged her into the center of the room, where the animation rotated between bright and shadow, “Tell Nico how you did this. It’s amazing. And why isn’t it for sale?”

Maki coughed as she caught Levine Brook’s nod of agreement. She was going to be ganged up on. She threw a desperate look in Eli’s direction but her manager was completely distracted by whatever Nozomi was whispering in her ear.

“Ummmm...well, first there was...first I created…” Maki glanced down at Nico, uncertain if her audience actually wanted an answer, but the miniscule miscreant was actually paying attention, “I created medlies of several objects using photos I’d taken.” Of you, Maki swallowed instead of saying as Nico listened with genuine interest, “and then several days later, this happened…”

“Maki’s never really been good at describing her process, Miss Yazawa,” Levine slid herself smoothly into the conversation.

“No,” Nico smiled gaily at the new entry, “Put a camera in her hand and suddenly you feel like a peeping pervert outside a bedroom window.”

Maki had been wondering exactly how Nico was keeping her bangs to the side but then Nico’s statement registered, “Hey. It’s not like that.”

“Like what?” And now Eli was there.

“I am not in a sexual relationship with my camera.” And the room had, of course, gone quiet, the breath before Maki’s declaration and Eli’s wife, of course, let the echoes die down before she continued the torture.

“So would you AND the camera be in a sexual relationship with your subjects?” Nozomi giggled, “A sort of ménage a montage?”

Eli, traitor to the core, joined the giggle crowd.

Levine, reading the room and ignoring Maki’s aggrieved huffing, decided risky was worth it as neither the celebrity guest or the money people had committed to a mood yet, “Annie Liebovitz did say “A thing that you see in my pictures is that I was not afraid to fall in love with these people.”

Nico was the next to contribute, “Nico’s been reading up on Mapplethorpe,” she tossed off casually as she grinned at Maki, her voice altering as she quoted, ““When I have sex with someone I forget who I am. For a minute I even forget I’m human. It’s the same thing when I’m behind a camera. I forget I exist.” Nico winked at Maki, a smug, confident, audacious, invading-all-Maki’s-sanctuaries wink, as her voice made their exchange a private, sensual whisper. “Nico’s there but not. And the rest is left to the audience.”

Beauty and the Devil are the same, Maki thought. Mapplethorpe said that too. With possibly the same burning in his eyes and chest as she had right now, staring through Nico, wondering if Nico had meant in bed or on screen, Maki could see the smirk and horns and the smoldering and the hood tossed over to make sure there was enough shadowing to upset and unsettle the viewer. And the eyes would burn, fire, fire, flames ablaze in darkness, Nico’s glance lasering down through the skin to the soul, like the lancing touch of angel wings as their feathers ignited in the heavenly fall.

“Maki?” Levine touched her arm lightly, “Nico asked you a question.”

Maki blinked, her ‘what’ all abrupt, half accusation.

Nico was ice calm but that was no balm when she struck, “Could you do an animation of something like the pictures you took of me in LA?”

Oh gods. Cold and hot both burning, flood surge of memories and wants bursting through. Cursing her lack of ability to come up with any dry analogies, Maki spun around and headed for the door, Eli stepping in behind her with apologies, to give Maki a necessary moment to clear her head.

SOMETHING’S GOTTA GIVE

No, Maki had not spent the entire night sorting through the Houdini Estate pictures, plotting angles for the animated and lenticular display Nico had requested. Nope. That would be creepy. Not more than ten minutes. The rest of the night had been taken up by screaming into one of the pillows on her studio couch, reshuffling the pictures on her wall, and 3 hours boxing her arms off in Wii Sports, followed by too many runs in SSX Blur to count. Then exhaustion had hit and she was too tired to dream or think or plan or…

Knocking. Door. Did she have a doorbell? Umi. Maki sat up in a panic, looking for her phone. Too early for Umi. The London flight left in the afternoon. It was barely dawn. Well, Maki had been up til dawn so it wasn’t really much after. She still needed sleep.

Maki opened the door. Nico Yazawa stood there, behind crystal encrusted sunglasses, pink coat blowing open in the brisk wind, dark floral wrap dress underneath. She had a basket in her hand and pushed it into Maki’s abdomen as she strode into the studio, “Nozomi said that Eli said you slept here most nights. I guess she was right.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you breakfast.” Nico smiled brightly, “A breakfast pie. Stick the fork right in. Nico knows that’s your style.”

“Ok.” Maki found herself clutching the basket, which smelled like bacon and fennel sausages closer when she expected to shove it right back at the invading force.

“And…” Nico spun around, whipping an oversized, glossy object at Maki, “Nico brought you an advance copy of Interview.” A dramatic pause, “Signed. Hot off the presses this morning.” Nico unfurled the magazine, the shot of her wet and bursting out of the water tank was splashed across the cover with the caption, ‘Yazawa Escapes Chains of Nico’s Past.’ “Nico signed it for you.”

“I have the negative.” Maki sat on her couch, pulling the pie out of the basket, pausing to inhale delicious, tempting smells.

“Want Nico to sign that?” Had Maki ever heard Nico’s voice without a lilting tease? She couldn’t remember.

“Please leave.” Maki shuffled through the basket but no silverware. She crawled to the end of the couch, precariously leaning over to her desk, pulling a fork out of the pen cup at the end.

“Have you washed that recently?”

Maki shrugged, breakfast pie on its way to her salivating mouth.

“Cotorou says hi.” Nico took her sunglasses off with a flair.

Maki waved the fork.

“He wants to come on another photoshoot.”

Maki nodded, in what she hoped was a non committal fashion.

“Nico needs you in Tokyo before New Year’s.” Nico was now looming both too close and too tall, how high were those boot heels Maki wondered.

Maki stopped chewing, staring up at Yazawa.

“Vogue is flying me out, I’m debuting a hot new designer team, it’s amazing...:” Nico somehow gleamed with enthusiasm, almost taking on a glow. Maki figured her own eyes weren’t used to daylight yet.

Maki swallowed, taking a moment to fortify her constitution as Nico slid into the couch next to her, some citrusy perfume wafting, stole Maki’s fork and ate a piece of pie, “Why do you need me? Nozomi’s back.”

Nico hesitated, then went for accusatory, “Your friend is DRAGGING her to Russia for the holidays, and Nico can’t cope. Everybody else sees child star Nico...you see…” Nico pointed to the magazine, then offered Maki a forkful of pie. The photographer bit, distracted by thinking about how often she saw Nico like that, in LA, in black and white, in color, in motion, in control, in her mind. Nico leaned in, “I know your first show was in Tokyo, after you spent a summer there, and you haven’t been back. I thought you might enjoy a chance to revisit your original inspiration.” Nico’s eyelashes were blinking at an impossibly slow rate, black shadows over the eyes that offered Maki too many things to read.

There were a few reasons Maki had never returned to Tokyo, all of them more whims than foundational beliefs. Another forkful, Nico just watching Maki for another moment and then bouncing up, wandering through the room, “Have you framed a picture of Nico for the wall yet?”

“No.” Maki sounded sullen, but only because she was tired of having that argument with herself.

“Isn’t Nico nude enough?”

Damn it, the midget monster enjoyed this, there was far to much mirth and mischief underlying her tone. Which, Maki conceded to HERSELF, was much better than if Nico had gone for any kind of sensual vocal coloration.

“I’ve been busy.” Maki punted and grabbed the fork from where Nico had stabbed it into the pie. Amazing flavor mix. Maki could eat this every morning.

Nico leaned over the back of the couch, her chin threatening to land on Maki’s shoulder, one arm keeping Maki from sliding away, “Nico is busy too. And I need help. And you love taking Nico’s picture.”

Maki spluttered as that whispered exaggeration slid into her ear, “I don’t...you can’t...it’s not…”

“It’s not what?”

Maki sighed, regaining equilibrium. It was easier when she wasn’t looking at Nico. “Once again, I’m not your personal photographer, Ms. Yazawa. I can recommend several.”

“First class to Tokyo, Nico will pose however YOU want her, such a high class hotel it would make the one in LA drool, and Nico left you an open ended return ticket if you’d like to visit old…” Nico leaned into Maki’s view and winked, “friends.”

“Nico…”

“Please.” Nico pointed to the pie, “Nico doesn’t bake for everyone, just geniuses who do her super special favors.”

It was the “geniuses” that got the nod out of her, Maki thought, or the honest admiration glowing in Nico’s eyes, but there she was, consenting to Nico invading her space, her time, her calendar. Maki’s world wasn’t pre LA or post LA, it was pre and post Nico.

CANDY

Maki hadn’t been back in Tokyo for several years. She’d spent a summer staying with cousins after her junior year of college, mostly following them around to parties and trying to flirt with women she’d never see again, which was, as always, Option A. Memories came back, quick kisses, her first, here, somewhere no one really knew her. And her first chances taken with photography, somehow both mixed together in her memory, candy colored video game trinkets, vibrant plastic trifles, girls, legs, neon against night, shadows of thousands of odd moments caught in the corners of creative minds, briefly, sharply lit future crashing against traditional Japanese formality. Her first nude model, fabric draping off curves Maki had only recently realized felt so different when they were other. Gay might not seem other, but it was, the most intense form. Curves, yes, but there were the details, the differences, the dents, the dips, the draws, the way her fingers, her eyes, her camera were drawn in, almost swallowed, tiny in the overwhelming awe each fraction of a minute of a degree of change inspired. Lost, she got lost, it was amazing, it was terrifying, it was crushing when she realized her emotions had leapt to attachment with so little encouragement. The model had been kind, but the disappointment in herself had tainted the rest of Maki’s visit and she’d thrown herself into her photography, trying to both distance and replicate the experience, with unyielding imperfect plastic facsimiles and flowing fabric. She’d had her first magazine credit, her first gallery show, a sold out success that she’d been too embarrassed to tell her uncle was happening. So many firsts and then she’d left Tokyo behind, bringing only the fire to kneel, to be humbled breathless by, to capture perfect moments, the beats that stopped her cold, the colors that caught her in their swirl like a mythical maelstrom.

Too much pink tonight. Why had Nico dragged her to Tokyo? The shoot in Akihabara had been too close to memories for Maki to be comfortable. But Nico had done her usual bright bulldozing through anyone in her way and she’d looked so damn good in the yukata and kanzashi and...Maki stared at the shot glass in front of her and nodded at the bartender, double it. Japanese whiskey. When in Nippon...someone slid in next to her. She glanced slightly. Not Nico. Her laugh was across the room. The hairstylist. And their translator on the other side, both smiling, both leaning into Maki. She smiled at the one, Yuu, and winked at the other, Neve.

“Hello, ladies.”

Giggles.

“So we heard you had your first…” another giggle. Maki sunk the whiskey in the pool of other whiskey that was working its way through her veins and blurring her vision, her judgement, her grasp “show here.”

Maki grinned, and tapped so the bartender poured her another. It was Nico’s tab, Nico could pay for this mood she’d flown Maki halfway across the world into, “Yep. Just down the block. Famous gallery. EVERYTHING sold.” Maki toasted herself, wondering if she sounded as loud as she thought. She dropped her head, pulling the two women in to whisper, “First everything here…”

The wide eyes told her her audience understood the implications, although Maki wouldn’t bother to explain that she might have been exaggerating her story a bit. She felt a touch on her hair, a breath near her ear, a hand sliding under hers and her hand shot forward, shaking, grabbing the shot glass as she stood, “Look me up later, ladies.” Wink. Stumble. Was it really a stumble, yes, Maki realized as she found herself mysteriously across the room, her arms finally catching her fall by jamming into table. Jarring. Maki shook her head, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, and there they were, the eyes that haunted her, the shimmering ruby depths that taunted her by being more unreadable than Lake Michigan under a new moon.

“Nico!” Maki slid into the booth. Nico seemed more amused than usual, but her smile was...Maki frowned, it was a complicated concept, not warm, not cold, something sandwich, wry…Maki pounded the table, proud of herself.

“Why do you always slide away from them?” Nico raised a bulbous glass full of some viscous red liquid in the direction of the bar.

Maki took her time, propping her elbows on the table, dropping her chin down, furrowing her brow, stretching out her mouth as Nico watched every single motion with the protective amusement of an adult in charge of a toddler learning to crawl. Maki purred “They’re not aesthetically pleasing” and Nico only twitched a little as Maki’s finger touched between Nico’s eyebrows, tracing down over her nose, barely tapping her top lip, “Not like you.” Maki grinned at Nico, looming, “Just joking; ‘m not that shallow.” She shook her head, leaning back, staring at the ceiling, “They want...cool.” Another sigh as today, Tokyo, Nico, blossoms, wishes, wants, wounds churned behind her closed eyelids, “I’m not that…” She stuck out her tongue, “And It’s all pink now. I just can’t see any…” Maki blew out a big breath, feeling relieved, maybe a little queasy, what were they talking about, was Nico still there? She let her head fall to the side, something warm, Nico’s perfume, Nico’s carefully trimmed nails tapping a rhythm Maki knew well but which….”HEY!” Maki sat up, her hands reaching out as if for a keyboard, trying to place the tune, Nico had jumped back, her drink spilling a little, Maki watched fascinated as the red liquid dripped down Nico’s wrist and she had the sudden thirsty urge to lean forward and lick it, to see if tasted salty at all, like skin did, like…

“Maki?” Nico’s other hand was under her chin, but Maki shook it off, the almost familiar rhythm still working its way into clarity. Then Maki stopped, eyes narrowed at a confused Nico. “But you hate jazz. There’s no words. You said so.”

Nico looked flummoxed for the first time Maki had ever seen her, “When did I say that?”

“At the party. The first time I saw you. All pink. Eli dragged me there. So she could meet Nozomi.”

Nico’s chin jutted forward, her eyes blinking, a slight flush on her cheeks, “You were there?”

“Obviously,” Maki snorted, “everybody was staring, and so rude but I couldn’t get you out of my m...” Nico was fumbling nervously with the tablecloth. Maki grabbed a napkin to hand to Nico but her hand knocked straight into Nico’s glass, more red spilling across the table, Maki reaching out, fascinated, “sticky.”

“You have had too much to drink.” Nico decided, her voice very close, very soft, Maki turned her head and Nico was right there...right there, she reached out a hand but ended up knocking Nico’s glass the other way so it rolled into her lap, “Time to get you to your room, Nishikino.” Nico’s tone was almost cold, Maki noticed. Maybe her pretty pink dress was ruined? Had Maki done that? That was sad...why did it feel like tears? There was a rough upward tug on her arm and Maki was suddenly on her feet, her arm over Nico’s shoulders.

“Hey!” Maki swayed, but Nico was surprisingly solid.

“Hey, yourself. Nico will do you a favor and tuck you in. But we have an early morning. You need to sleep.” Nico’s voice sounded far away as Maki’s head bobbed through yawns.

“Sleep.” Maki thought that sounded...less shaky.

“Sleep.” Nico’s tone warmed slightly and Maki hummed to herself, that song was almost there...what was it? She’d have to ask Nico in the morning.

I ONLY HAVE EYES FOR YOU

Maki had been queasy on the flight to Hirosaki. She’d pulled her hoodie down over her head, pulled the blanket up to her nose and glared at the universe through the narrow gap between them. How many drinks had she had last night? She remembered sitting next to Nico, but after that, just some movement, sluggish movement and the relief when she’d achieved a stable horizontal position, no longer having to willpower through her every movement. And then there had been waking to realize she’d thrown up over the side of the bed. A quick clean up, then a shower, then the quietest, calmest breakfast she could think of...Now, the plane, and Maki just wanted to sleep and not feel every vibration as the plane found things to jar against in mid air. She felt a hand on her shoulder and grumbled only to hear Nico laughing, “Better get some juice to replace those fluids, Maki. Nico doesn’t want to have to drag your nearly unconscious body through the snow.”

Nico was wearing comfy clothes for the plane ride, leggings and an oversized sweater. Maki’s jeans were twisting. Next flight, she was just going to find slouchy, comfy pajama pants and wear them out. She missed first class and leg room. The thought of champagne brought a wince as orange juice dangled in front of her. She reached out.

“That’s a good girl,” Nico teased, her voice shrill and silly, “Listen to Nico.”

The blanket fell as Maki shifted to glare at Nico, who winked, deflating Maki’s sudden urge to strike her with a clever verbal retort. “My hangover hates you.”

“I’ll let my people know.” Nico continued down the aisle, chirping nonsensical travel truisms at random people, Maki could hear the “Nico Nico Ni” that punctuated her conversations with the ones who claimed to be fans.

Oh my gods, Maki thought, entranced, headache forgotten, cold too far away to touch her, watching Nico sweep up a ice white hill toward an ebony roofed castle, framed by frozen cherry blossom branches, her open black coat floating behind her, the black and white of her dress a shattered geometry that amazed, entangled from every angle. Maki had planned to shoot on black and white film but with the Fuji, the ruby red of Nico’s eyes thrilled like stars after a stormy night. Was she knee deep in snow? Maki didn’t care, and fell to her side, to shoot up the hill as Nico approached her, castle looming in the background. Nico sped by, turning sharply in a surprising pause to look right at Maki, winking and blowing a kiss as she shook the snow off a cherry branch. Maki barely felt the cold wet burying her as her shutter clicked madly and Nico threw back her head with a laugh that must have echoed to the sea.

“We’ll come back in the Spring.” Maki swore she heard whispered as her fingers went numb.

IT’S NOT FOR ME TO SAY

It had been a fairly painless interview. A photography podcast had tracked Maki down and was interested in her influences. Her latest book/album had been out long enough to hit a sales lull and Maki was almost recharged enough to impersonate an ambivert so she said yes. Also, there was her continual inability to say no to requests from the the smart, the sharp and the shapely, no matter how much Umi and Eli teased her about it. Maki always countered with “there are worse habits.”

“So Maki, you’ve been travelling a lot the past six months, with photoshoots for Nico Yazawa. Is it exciting?”

Maki chuckled, “I’m a bit of a homebody.”

“You don’t seem like the Netflix on the couch type, Maki. Your photos are so lively. And you incorporate different environments so well.”

“I have these short bursts of creativity, Aylen, everything gets blurry and time….well, it kind of skips, I guess. Or elongates.” Maki shuffled through prints, pushing one in the direction of her interviewer, “Like these shots of granite chess pieces. When I put the cameras down, nearly four hours had passed, I was freezing, and if Eli hadn’t decided to check on me, I probably would have just curled up on a dune.”

Aylen picked up the picture, her finger reaching out as if it had texture, “That’s her manager, Eli Ayase. And I’m looking at a picture from Maki’s Storm Chess series, an oversized, rosy hued queen tilted into an ebbing tide, a grayer knight half buried in sand behind her.” She smiled at Maki, “It’s so cool to see what your favorites are.”

“Well, there are some I always come back to,” Maki waved her hand, drawing her interviewer’s eye to the pictures framed around the office part of her loft.

“No pictures of Nico Yazawa have made the wall yet, I see.” Aylen commented casually.

Maki coughed uncomfortably, “That’s a bit new.”

“But it does make me wonder: how working with someone as well known as Nico Yazawa affects your process. Your previous celebrity models were one time shoots.”

So many Nico mentions, questions. Maki frowned, uncomfortable talking about Nico when the actress couldn’t join in the conversation. Sure, Nico seemed to live for media hits, but Maki was starting to feel exposed, as if she were about to spit a secret out that should have been completely buried in the sand by a wave surge.

“Uhhh...I’m not sure what I should say…” Maki fidgeted, the stool legs grinding across the floor as she shoved herself back from the counter, “I respect Nico, she’s got this laserscope targeting for her personal, artistic vision…” Maki, sighed, tilting the stool back, meeting a pair of friendly, patient hazel eyes, “It has cut into my time. The travel’s exciting and I’ve learned a lot about the entertainment business, but…” Maki stopped, reluctant.

“But?” Aylen’s question was a gentle echo, a well nuanced prod.

Maki shrugged, there was no denying the truth, “I haven’t had nearly enough time for my own projects. I’m still sorting through the Hirosaki pics. The magazine chose the ones they wanted, but Nico asked me to pick an alternate set she could post on her site.”

Aware that she’d just gotten an unexpected moment of honesty, Aylen changed topics before Maki could absorb what she’d just admitted. “Your own website is amazing, the way you’ve fluidly animated the photos to the music.”

Maki let the stool fall back solidly on the floor, leaning forward eagerly, “I know. The program I found is so much fun to play with. And my friend, Umi Sonoda, the poet, is writing haiku for me. We’re both waiting for the cherry blossoms. I’ve been so caught by pink, there’s so much romance encoded in it, such softness.”

Aylen laughed, “So is your next project a pink one?”

“If I could find the right flower....” Maki grumbled.

“What do you mean…”

Maki shook her head, “Nothing coherent. Sorry, I’m not the best interview.”

“You’re doing fine, Maki. And we appreciate your time.” Aylen glanced at her phone, “But we do need to wrap it up. So just a few final questions.”

“Sure.” Maki had been trying not to fidget, not to create extra noise and the stillness was making her sound as restless as she felt.

“I know you’re a Mapplethorpe fan. Do you have a favorite quote? Or photo?”

“Too many photos. I rotate them seasonally at home.” Maki linked her fingers, stretching out, “ A lot of Mapplethorpe resonates. I like that he didn’t really worship photography, it was a tool. He wanted the picture in his hand, the moment captured. "With photography, you zero in; you put a lot of energy into short moments, and then you go on to the next thing." Maki paused, “He really got the intensity of the experience and the relief of moving on.”

“So many metaphors there.” Aylen laughed.

“Ah, I’m actually very literal. I see it, I hear it, I read it, no subtext.” Maki hung her head, bangs falling forward, suddenly tired.

“So then,” Aylen leaned forward, “I guess the only question is what is your ‘next thing’?’”

And Maki knew she should have had an answer.

A/N: In a bit of a rush. Added another chapter; hope you don't mind the suspense. This is a very slow burn for me.

#nicomaki #PhotoJazz #yazawa nico #nishikino maki #music #jazz #photography #Love Live #fanfic #slow burn

[blessedbyharrystyles]

Model Behavior - Part 3

This series is about y/n being set up with Harry Styles as a publicity relationship. Things start rough and are complicated by y/n having a boyfriend. 

A/N: okay we all know harry is about to twerk BUT I’m using this gif to give a visual to the outfit he is wearing in this part. Also, as always, I’m human and I’m going to make typos sorry!! just pretend they don’t exist.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: none in this part 

After your date with Harry in Central Park, you waiting for an angry confrontation from Jason that never came. There was another small segment on the entertainment portion of the news with the photos of you two (which was still incredibly weird for you), but he never mentioned it. He must not have seen it, and for that you were incredibly thankful. It would be hard to continue the whole Harry is an asshole story when the two of you were joyfully tossing popcorn at each other.

It was only a few days later when your next date was set up. You were told you would be having dinner at a restaurant with Harry, which made you nervous. Not that you thought it would be a bad time, but because that felt a lot more like a real date. You knew how it would look to Jason, and you weren’t sure you he would believe anything you tried to tell him. Your only hope would be that he would remain oblivious to it as he seemed to be right now. 

You stood in front of your closet, looking for a “sexy but casual” outfit, as Marcy had instructed you to wear. You were going to a dinner at a restaurant that was frequented by many celebrities who visited New York, though you’ve never been yourself. It wasn’t exactly in your budget. Apparently, the restaurant’s vibe was sexy casual and I just had to dress the part.

You finally decided on your favorite pair of black skinny jeans that hugged you body in all the right ways, a plunging dark red body suit, a leather jacket and black pumps. Black and red was sexy right? You thought to yourself as you dressed yourself. You checked the mirror and you had to admit it, you felt pretty hot. 

Just as you finished all the last touched, there was a knock at the door. You were praying it wasn’t Jason because you knew he would have a lot of questions if he saw you about to go out dressed like this. To your relief, the person behind the door was Fred, who was a lot shorter than you had thought.

“Hey Fred!” you greeted cheerfully, “You look a lot different standing up.”

Fred chuckled. “Yeah I get that a lot. I was just going to text you as usual, but Harry wanted me to give you these flowers,” he said handing over a bouquet of red dahlias, “He would have given you them himself, but apparently he’s not allowed to yet. I really don’t get this shit.”

You laughed. “Neither do I. Thanks Fred, I’ll just be a second.” Fred nodded and waited outside the door for you. You pulled out the little card which read, “Dahlias symbolize staying graceful under pressure. Seemed appropriate. - H.” You smiled, replaced the vase filled with the peonies (which were way past their prime) with your new bouquet.

You then headed out, following Fred to the car. He opened the door and helped you slide in, which you were really grateful for since these heels weren’t always your best friend.

“You know, it’s a little spooky how you managed to pick flowers that matched my outfit,” you teased Harry as Fred shut the door behind you.

“It’s a talent,” he shrugged, laughing lightly. The two of you made light conversation as you were driven to your destination. Harry, of course, had eaten there a few times before and promised you you were going to love it. He did, however, say that there was almost always paparazzi there, so you should brace yourself.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you realized what he was talking about. A bunch of people were standing outside, cameras in hand. Just waiting to take pictures, pictures of you. You tensed up, not sure you were ready for what was on the other side of the car door.

Sensing your nerves, Harry shifted over closer to you. “Are you alright?” Harry asked.

“Yeah I- I just guess there were more people than I expected,” you replied, trying not to allow yourself to get too flustered.

“I know it’s kind of scary,” Harry replied, “But I’ll be with you the whole time, okay? I’m not allowed to hold your hand until the way out, otherwise I would. I’ve always found it less scary that way.” Harry laughed at himself, making you smile despite the nerves.

“Thanks, I think I’ll be okay,” you said.

“I know you will,” Harry assured you, placing his hand on the door, “Ready?” You nodded, and with that the door swung open. Harry stepped out first, grabbing the attention of the paparazzi.

“Harry!” 

“Harry over here!”

‘Harry who’s the girl?”

There rapid fire questions buzzed in your ear as you were bombarded with flashes form their cameras. Harry’s hand landed on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the door. You kept your head down as you walked, hoping by some miracle they wouldn’t get a good picture of your face.

Finally, you made it to the safety of the restaurant. “I think I’m going to go blind,” you said, trying to blink the flash out of your eyes.

Harry chuckled, “You’ll get used to it.” You shook your head, as you were led to your table (only Harry Styles could have a zero wait time in the city’s hottest restaurant) wondering how you could ever get used to that. 

When you arrived at the table, Harry pulled out the chair for you. “Never got a chance to tell you, you look great tonight.” You looked down, hiding your blush, as Harry walked around to his seat.

“So do you,” you replied, taking him in. He wore dark jeans and a white tee, with the buttons opened, revealing a necklace dangling over his skin and his chest tattoos. It was so simple, yet he looked so good. It suddenly hit you how attractive Harry was, his dark mess of hair and emerald eyes. There was something so enticing about him. You fidgeted in your seat, uncomfortable with this revelation. 

Luckily, the waiter came over, distracting you from your thoughts. You ordered drinks - just water for you, seeing as you were under orders not to drink while you were together. Can’t control people when they’re drunk, you guessed.

“So this is how the other half lives,” you said, looking around the very expensive looking room.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Harry smirked.

“Not bad,” you agreed, “But, truthfully, I’d be just as fine at home in sweats ordering in.”

“That sounds pretty nice right about now,” Harry replied, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing more tattoos.

“I see you’re into getting inked,” you said, admiring the the dark lines that decorated his sink.

“You could say that.”

“What do they mean?” you asked, wanting to know the stories behind them. Some seemed like they would be quite interesting.

“That, y/n is for me to know and you to find out,” Harry teased with a wink.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Whatever, Styles.”

“What about you, got any?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” you threw his words back at him. 

Harry laughed, “Okay, I walked right into that one.” The waiter came back around, asking for orders. You hadn’t really looked at the menu, so you just asked for the first thing your eyes landed on. Harry picked what he wanted without having to look at the menu.

“How has your week been?” you asked as the waiter walked away. 

“Tiring,” Harry admitted, “I’ve been in the studio a lot, working on new stuff.”

“Got a new album in the works?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he smiled, taking a sip of his water. “Have you heard the first one?”

“I have, I actually listened to it for the first time when I found out about this arrangement,” you told him.

“What did you think?”

“Looking for an ego stroke, are we?” you smirked.

“Would you think less of me if I was?” he asked.

“No,” you replied, “It deserves a stroke... wait that doesn’t sound right.” The two of you erupted in laughter at your poor choice of phrasing. “What I was trying to say is that I really liked it. It’s right up the alley of things I normally listen to.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Harry replied, flashing a dazzling white smile, “So what have you been up to this week?”

“Just a few little photo shoots here and there, nothing special,” you told him. 

“You don’t sound too excited about it,” Harry noted.

You shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for every opportunity I get, but little campaign ads aren’t what I really want to be doing. I want to do like high fashion things, walk runways, things that are a little more interesting.” 

“I know you said you don’t want anything because of someone else, but I do have some connections at Gucci,” Harry told you, “I could get you in the door for their next casting call. I could set it up so they wouldn’t know I sent you, so if you got the gig, it would be because of you, not me.”

“Harry, I-I don’t even know what to say, you don’t have to do that,” you replied in disbelief. 

“I want to,” Harry insisted, “I think you deserve something nice after having to go through all this.”

“That would be so amazing, I would appreciate it more than you could know,” you told him, feeling excitement bubbling up inside you. You’ve wanted to do high fashion for so long and a brand like Gucci could open so many doors for you. The thought alone made you giddy.

“Consider it done.”

Harry began to tell you about how he’s gotten close with the creative directors of Gucci over the years, and you listened intently. You were love fashion, and found all the behind the scenes information so interesting. Plus, it helps to know this stuff in your profession. The two of you chatted all about fashion throughout the meal, which you both equally enjoyed.

“It’s so nice to finally have someone to talk about these kind of thing with,” you gushed as you finished your food.

“Jason not a fashion man?”

“If you consider three pairs of jeans and some t shirts or flannels fashion, than sure he is a fashion man,” you joked.

“Do you love him?” Harry asked. You stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the blunt question.

“Yeah, I love him, but,” you paused, trying to think of the right way to say it.

“You know, my mom always told me that anything a person says before the word but doesn’t mean anything,” Harry replied. You frowned, not liking that he was picking at a topic you would rather not think about.

“I love him,” you restated, formulating a way to explain it without saying but, “It’s just that, sometimes he doesn’t always feel like the guy I first met. We can be really different at times, but opposites attract right?”

“Right,” Harry nodded, checking the watch on his wrist, “I think it’s about time we get going.” You nodded, glad to avoid a conversation about Jason. Harry pulled out his wallet and tossed down two $100 bills, as if they were nothing.

“So we’re supposed to say we’re just friends on the way out, right?” you asked, trying to recall what Marcy had told you to do. 

“Right, but I should warn you,” Harry began, stopping right before the the exit, “There are going to be more people out there than before now that they know we are here.” You gulped, wondering how there could possibly be more than before.

“Great,” you sighed sarcastically.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’ll be right here,” Harry said extending his hand to you. You took it, giving him a soft smile. Harry turned towards the door and the second it opened flashes were all you could see. He was right, there were a lot more than before, including screaming fans.

Harry held your hand tightly as you walked to the car, which thankfully Fred had waiting right outside. He held his other arm out in front of him, clearing a path for the two of you to walk. You heard your name being called in the crowd and your heart dropped as you realized they figure out who you were.

“Harry, y/n! Over here!”

“How was dinner? Was this a date?”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

“We’re just friends,” Harry replied, in the direction of the voice. It was impossible to tell where exactly it was coming from. You looked up and nodded in agreement, grateful had his wits about him enough to say something.

“I seriously don’t know how you’re not blind,” you stated once you finally were secure in the car.

“I think I’ve built up an immunity at this point,” Harry replied, “You handled it like a champ though.”

“Thanks,” you replied shyly, “Kind of freaky they know my name now.” You frowned, knowing this would not go over well with a certain someone.

“You may want to put your social media on private. My fans are... a persistent bunch,” Harry said.

You pulled out your phone, but got distracted by missed calls and texts from Jason. “Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“Jason must have found out, and he’s not happy,” you sighed. You didn’t want to read them all, knowing they probably weren’t very nice (the first one you saw was ‘come see me when you’re done cheating on me,’ and you decided to stop there. “Fred, could you take me to my boyfriend’s house? It’s just down the block from my place,” you asked. Fred nodded and you slumped in your seat, not looking forward to this.

“Are you going to be okay?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah, I mean I get it, this doesn’t exactly look great. I’ll just have to tell him something that will hopefully calm him down,” you sighed. As you finished talking, Fred pulled up to Jason’s building, sending a wave of nerves through you.

Harry squeezed your hand. “You can do it. If you need anything, feel free to call me,” he said. You thanked him before saying goodbye and slipping out of the car. 

The elevator ride up to Jason’s seemed longer than usual. Each floor you passed made your heart beat a little faster. Finally you were outside his door, and although you were debating running home, you found yourself knocking on the door.

Jason answered almost instantly, and he was fuming. “Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you insisted, stepping in and closing the door behind you so his nosy neighbors couldn’t listen in.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you’re on a fucking date with another guy,” he snapped.

“It’s not, really, it’s just a part of the interview process,” you told him.

“What sort of interview involves you dressing like that and going out to eat at an expensive restaurant?” Jason questioned.

“I don’t know, I just do what my agent tells me. It’s all business, it’s just how these rich and famous people do it,” you replied, anger bubbling up in you. Okay, sure, you were kind of lying. But there wasn’t anything going on between you and Harry and that was the truth.

“Are you fucking him?”

“What? No, are you crazy?” you snapped, pissed he would think so little of you.

“At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he replied.

“You know what? I don’t fucking need this right now. You clearly don’t trust me and I am not about to be yelled at by someone who doesn’t even care about me,” you spat turning towards the door. 

Jason yelled something nasty after you but you could barely hear it, on account of how angry you were. You were seeing red as you made your way home. You tried to walk as quickly as you could, but the heels were not helping. By the time you made it to your apartment, anger had mixed with sadness.

When you reached your bed, you flopped down, tears spilling out of your eyes until sleep finally took you.

Thanks for reading part 3! I hope you enjoyed! I’m going to work on something a lil different for my next imagine, but don’t worry part 4 will be out soon! xx emily

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfction #harry fanfic #one direction imagines #harry styles smut

[weddingdressespromdresses]

you can be the sole owner of a style that everyone can love apricot flower@%&)_) girl dresses

The biggest clues, however, lie in the chosen venues and the timing. Do a quick Google search to see if they've chosen a fancy country club, an elegant ballroom, or a trendy restaurant downtown. Opt for attire that is fitting for the location, bringing a wrap or jacket to cover your shoulders in a house of worship. A reception that begins later in the evening is more likely to be formal (particularly because tuxedos are only appropriate attire after 5 p when does prom start.m.!), while one that takes place during the daytime will, by default, be slightly more casual (even if that means cocktail dresses instead of ballgowns).

In essence, there should be a dragon (symbolising the groom) and a phoenix (symbolising the bride) embroidered down the front of a traditional qun kua. But these days, the qun kua can also be adorned with auspicious embellishments like peonies or pomegranates. See and touch a few qun kuas to see if there is a certain style that you prefer flower girl dress for wedding. For instance, some brides will go for dainty beaded qun kuas while others prefer more elaborate versions with intricate embroidery ?C complete with gold and silver threads ?C and coloured sequins. After receiving me, we had the tea ceremony with my family. And then we headed for an outdoor photoshoot with all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. We didn't meet the scorching bright sun, but unfortunately, it was drizzling. So, we just quickly got all the shots that we needed and left. Again, it was good that everyone was cooperative. Our photographer was also very clear in directing the big group of people as to where we should position ourselves, yet keeping everything natural. After slimming down your options in #1 above, find a quiet corner where you can push jsweddenladress20107 over the clothes and place your TOP selections to purchase on the rack. That way you can look at the clothes piece by piece without having to sort through them on the floor. You can also do this in the changing room, but out of consideration to others I always try to get out of the changing room to keep it open. But you don't have to be famous or a millennial to wear vintage sondra celli dresses. Fast fashion homogenizes the trends, so fashion conscious women differentiate themselves from the crowd with the creative styling vintage offers. If you're tired of owning the same garments as everyone else, the uniqueness of vintage means you can be the sole owner of a style that everyone can love apricot flower girl dresses, but only you can have!

Cheryl Wee: It's a miracle that he pulled it off! Roy managed to get a Japanese makeover and rickshaw company to help him plan everything within 7 days. My family tricked me by saying that we were going to Kyoto for a holiday, and that we would celebrate my parents' 30th wedding anniversary with a rickshaw ride and photos in Japanese kimonos. University sweethearts Tan Li Syn, 26, Civil Servant, and Abel Loke, 28, Civil Servant, exchanged emotional vows in a beautiful wedding at The Fullerton Hotel on 7 October 2017, dressed in The Wedding Present. Trying to keep things cost-effective, creative bride Li Syn took up a calligraphy class to craft a stunning aisle runner, invitations when is prom usually, and signage! You May Also Like: Evening Dresses on Sale‎ | Vdressy — Do your search Before ... Bella Hadid wore a red satin sexy red carpet ball gown long ... ^&*()Fv ballerina and full length dresses could be ... slip the way for your walking plumage the aisle burgundy ... Chic Short Wedding Dresses&Boho Wedding Dresses ...

[turnipsummer14-blog]

5 Simple Bridal Self-Care Rituals to Unwind + Energize

Take a deep breath. Go on, try it. Now — can you remember the last time you stopped to just breath? Planning a wedding can be so consuming that those simple, human necessities can all too easily slip away. Deep breaths, long baths, hydrating your body and giving yourself those small yet gratifying moments that you probably need now more than ever.

We know not every bride can schedule in a weekly massage or make it to yoga every morning (cheers to those who can!), so today we’re focusing on 5 simple rituals that you can do at home. Five things to make you feel more you. To combat the stress that threatens to dry out your skin, darken those undereye circles, bloat the belly, and overwhelm your mind. These easy routines will help you feel well rested, well hydrated, and overall more like your best self for the big day to come. Take care, loves. We give you permission.

The gorgeous photos below are by the stunning Elizabeth Messina! We don’t blame you if the images alone – I mean, how comfy do those Bella Notte linens look?! –  are enough to help you zen out :)

Daily Ritual: Amp up Your Hydration Game

WHY: In case you need a reminder of the benefits of hydration, let this long list motivate you to reach for the H20: proper hydration keeps your skin plump and glowing; helps your muscles fight fatigue, helps your kidneys function correctly to rid your body of toxins, keeps your bowels working properly (bye-bye bloat!) and helps brain function to strengthen cognitive function and memory. source, source

HOW: So, how much should you drink in a day? Harvard suggests a simple solution of 2-3 cups per hour for most people, more if you’re sweating or working out. Water is the best option for hydration, but this is you we’re talking about, and you deserve something a little special. We say, fancy it up with some infused water. Simply chop up some cucumber, mint, citrus, or whatever is in season and let your water absorb those spa-like properties. Amazon has an adorable rose gold fruit infuser water bottle so you can take it to go!

TRY IT: This recipe for detox infused water is a favorite. Or, try a morning beauty tonic! We’re fans of Bali’s famous turmeric + ginger elixir, Jamu, an anti-inflammatory healing drink that’s delicious hot or cold: here’s a recipe. Glow on, sister.

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Weekly Ritual: Unwind with an Infused Bath

WHY: Hop in a warm bath and let the stress melt away. Honestly — it’s proven! Submerging in warm water produces feelings of calm and ease, diminishing anxiety and pessimism. A warm bath before bed produces melatonin to helps you sleep better, soothes achy muscles, and can do wonders for tired skin when infused with the right ingredients.

TRY IT: Draw a warm bath (not too hot) and soak for 15-20 minutes with some of our favorites tried and true infusions:

For achy muscles: Add 2 cups of Dr. Teal’s Lavendar Epsom Salts.

To soothe dry skin: Add 10 drops of rose essential oil to either a carrier oil (jojoba, olive, or coconut) or 1 cup Epsom salt; Draw the bath before adding mixture then give it a stir before getting in.

Because you deserve it: Throw in some few dried botanicals, grab a treat, and soak up that alone time!

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Bi-Weekly Ritual: Love Your Skin with a Simple Face Mask

WHY: Because face masks solve all problems, don’t you know?! But seriously, there is something that makes you feel on top of that to-do list when you put on a face mask. You could always grab a sheet mask on your next Target run or mix some apple cider vinegar with Aztec Healing Clay, but we’re talking simple + at home remedies here. And you can find our go-to right there in your pantry.

HOW: It’s honey! If you haven’t read up on the skincare benefits of honey, prepare to be amazed. Honey is anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial, and gently nurturing like the best hug. The low pH balance means that bacteria can’t survive, which translates to an environment where acne is a thing of the past. It’s moisturizing, it’s great for sensitive skin — honey can do no wrong. source

TRY IT: First, make sure you have the highest quality raw honey you can find/afford. Pick some up at your local farmers market or grab some manuka honey online. Splash your (makeup free!) face with a little water to make the honey easier to spread. Next, spread 1-2 teaspoons across your face and neck. Let the honey mask sit for 10 minutes before rinsing off. Lock in the moisture with a your favorite moisturizer or sweet almond oil.

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Nightly Ritual: Get Your Beauty Sleep

WHY: We all know a good night’s rest is important and beneficial to the mind, body, and soul. But you’re planning a wedding, here! So, chances are that while your body and soul may be ready to call it a day, that mind of yours could have other plans.

HOW: The good news? There are a number of ways to shut your brain off and win the battle. From meditation apps to quick yoga routines.

TRY IT: Here are a few quick tips to get your entire self ready for a rejuvenating night’s sleep!

Make the rule and follow it: your bed is only for sleeping! Keep the room temperature cool and the lighting as dark as possible. Avoid screens 1-2 hours before bedtime to prepare your brain and eyes for the rest to come.

Get Calm: Download the Calm app for breathing exercise and guided meditations to help you sleep and mix some Natural Vitality Calm (aka the anti-stress drink) into a glass of water to get your daily intake of magnesium.

Try this 7-minute bedtime yoga flow from one of our favorite instructors, Adriene Mishler of Yoga with Adriene.

Treat yourself and invest in bedding that you LOVE! (The dreamy linens you see here? They’re from Bella Notte!) Bella Notte’s brand director Taylor (who is also the founder’s daughter!) shares this quote with us about how her bedding was essential to a good night’s sleep before her wedding, “Leading up to my wedding, I knew one of the biggest gifts I could give myself was a good night’s sleep. I piled my bed with soft down pillows and a billowy duvet, and our Madera Luxe sheets–they’re buttery soft and also sustainable, so I felt great every time I climbed in. Curling up in my sheets every night, bedroom window flung open to let in cool, fresh air, is still my favorite way to fall asleep!”

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Daily Ritual: Be Present by Calling on Gratitude

WHY: Gratitude helps you to pinpoint the goodness in your life. Maybe your florist calls to say peonies are a no-go, or your seamstress didn’t get it quite right, or your venue fell through at the last minute. We ALL know that wedding planning comes with both expected and unexpected stresses. But at the end of the day, you’re preparing to spend your life with your person. Call on gratitude to refocus on what you have and where you are, rather than what you lack.

TRY IT: There are several ways to practice gratitude on a daily basis. We won’t lie — it can be hard at first. But, like working a muscle, it gets easier with time. You’ll find yourself focusing in on what you’re thankful for quicker and with more precision.

Make a list: Keep a journal or note on your phone and jot down 1-3 things you’re thankful for each day.

Send a note: Thank-you notes can feel like a chore when you’re planning a wedding, but once you sit down to write a meaningful message you’ll find its one of the greater joys in the process.

Pray or meditate: Spend time giving thanks for your relationships, for warm weather, for coffee — whatever it is that makes your life happy!

///

One more deep breath, now…you got this.

photography: Elizabeth Messina // bedding & curtains: Bella Notte Linens // florals: Forage Florals // jewelry: Sofia Kaman and Catbird // clothing & lingerie: Twigs & Honey, Girl & A Serious Dream , Linyage and The Lace Atelier // hair & makeup: Christina Burns // floral cookies: Lori Stern // vintage pieces & props: The Arte Department

Source: https://greenweddingshoes.com/5-simple-bridal-self-care-rituals/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

[mytileneve]

11 Questions Tag - Part I

Thank you to the lovely people who tagged me: @illyriangoddess @runesandfaes @justbooklover @aelin-and-feyre ​! I’ll try and squish all the answers in one post and if any questions are repeated I’ll skip them just so this doesn’t take up half your dash! 

1. Author you’d unconditionally buy anything from? Cassandra Clare probably. I haven’t read her Magisterium series but I’m going to pretend that doesn’t really count cause it’s co-written. Maybe SJ Maas too. 2. Favourite Flower? Peonies (and hydrangeas) 3. What kind of Music do you like? I have a really eclectic music taste. I like a lot of stuff 😂 4. Hogwarts House (obviously)? Ravenclaw  5. Star Sign? Leo 6. Cats or Dogs? Both!  7. Favourite Classic Novel? Just one? The Great Gatsby. The Catcher in the Rye. Pride and Prejudice. A Tale of Two Cities. The Bell Jar. Little Women. The Secret Garden. Wuthering Heights. (how can I choose?) 8. Favourite Contemporary Novel? The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo. 9. Favourite Fantasy/Sci-Fi Novel? Just one (part 2)? ACOMAF/ACOWAR, Lord of Shadows, Empire of Storms. Six of Crows. City of Heavenly Fire.  10. Do you have a (celebrity) crush atm? Just one (part 3)? Gal Galdot is an utter babe. Matthew Dadario is a hottie. Josephine Skriver. Always. I drool over her every photo on insta. Chris Hemsworth (this one doesn’t need any explanation). And I’ve just seen Rogue One and Diego Luna is pretty cute and has an adorable accent. 11. If you could change something in the world what would it be? More tolerance and empathy. Also chocolate that grows on trees would be pretty fab.

1. When is your birthday? 12th of August 2. Favorite season? Spring or Autumn 3. Favorite villain?  The Darkling from The Grisha trilogy, Sebastian/Jonathan from The Mortal Instruments series or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl 4. Stars or the Moon? Stars.  6. An unpopular opinion? Flip phones are cool and need to make a comeback. 7. If you could be any mythological/magical creature, what would you be? Mermaid or siren or any variation of that.  8. Which book character can you see yourself in the most (Personality/Character traits-wise)? Ugh, this is so hard! I have no idea...? I see bits of myself in loads of characters but idk who I’m most like overall. 9. Which book character, in your opinion, do you think would be the best partner for you? I think it’s weird because my favourite characters aren’t necessarily people I think I’d be compatible with but I think I’d get along just fine with Dorian Havilliard or Cassian or Julian Blackthorn ... 10. If you could control any one of the 4 elements, which would you choose? I’d be a water bender 😎 11. Your OTP? Me + my bed. The best love story there ever was (I’m tired)

1. Cold or hot weather? I’m bad with both but hot I guess 2. Favourite sweet food? cookie dough ice cream 3. Favourite movie/s? Inception or Shutter Island 5. What do you like to do in your free time? Read, write, waste my time on Tumblr...  6. Have you ever wanted to smack someone’s face against a wall? Yep 7. Do you smile often? I think so but when I don’t I look like a pissed off bitch so I think it balances out 8. Pineapple on pizza? DEAR GOD NO! 10. Single, taken or waiting for a special fictional character? Single as a pringle 11. Sweet or salty popcorn? Why not both😁?

1. How did you get into SJM? I randomly read the first two back in 2014 when only Tog and Crown of Midnight were out because they were popular on bookstagram and then I forgot about the series until last December when I binge read all of them + ACOTAT & MAF 2. What would you do with a million dollars? Pay off my student loans, give some to my parents, buy myself a house somewhere in the world, find other hardworking students/ prospective students who can’t afford university and pay off their tuition and lastly donate to charity and buy small gifts for people with the rest 3. Do you consider yourself a morning or night person? I’m a night person who tries to be a morning person. I go to bed late and always insist on waking up early and I’m perpetually tired 4. What tv series are you into right now? I haven’t watched any TV shows in so long 😭 6. If you had to pick one fictional character to spend the rest of your life with, who would it be? Nesta Archeron. We’d just chill and talk about books. If she brings Cass along, even better. 7. If you were stranded on a deserted island and there was one naturally growing thing there for you to eat, what would you want it to be? POMEGRANATES. My favourite thing ever. 8. How many followers do you have atm? a bit over 2.1k 9. What would you say is your favorite thing in the world? words 10. Would you go back inside a burning house to save your pet(s)? I don’t have any pets atm but I’d go back to save other people’s pets 11. Have you seen/did you like Spiderman: Homecoming? I haven’t seen it yet

I tag: @nessiansmut @cassiancalore @dr-woodsprite @modernbookfae @paperbacktrash @highladyofnorta @highladyofdreamcourt @rowan-buzzard-whitethorn

1. What is a book you have that has sentimental value to you? 2. Is there a scent that reminds you of something nice? 3. Who would you choose to be stuck in a lift with for 24h (real life person or fictional character)? 4. Do you have a lucky item? 5. What would you order if you went to a restaurant right now? 6. What’s the most beautiful book you own? 7. Walk on the beach or hike in the mountains? 8. What’s next on your TBR? 9. Favourite poem? 10. Who are 5 people you’d invite to dinner (real people, either dead or alive)? 11. Who’s your favourite person who shares your name?

#tag

[yesterdaysdreams]

10 Things I Love Sunday

Our March weather is being very “Marchy” lately—in other words, it’s been almost 70 degrees one day and snowed the next day 2-3 times in the past few weeks. It’s so hard to get that taste of warm weather only to plummet back to winter, but as long as my precious peony buds are withstanding it, then I can deal and hang in there. We had our grass cut for the first time this year (our yard really needed a haircut!) and I went out to double check with the mowers that they knew not to mow over the small peony bushes that have already popped their heads out. I planted a bunch more last year and I can’t wait for them to bloom!

1. I’ve been getting tired of regular oatmeal every morning, so I made a batch of this easy granola for the first time in a while and I forgot how much I love it! I make enough for the week in one batch and then it’s an easy breakfast topped with banana and almond milk.

2. Need this to help celebrate my favorite time of day!

3. If I was having an Easter brunch with friends this year, I would love to make this! SO CUTE! We used to do a friend’s Easter brunch every year back in Springfield and it was a fun substitute for the big breakfast we would usually have growing up with my extended family after church. My Grandma’s house on Easter morning is still the only place I’ve ever been served kielbasa (a sausage that originated in the Poland/Ukraine area, but my family is German, so some of the Polish items crept into our meals as well).

4. Since Lola is in Daddy-Daycare, we thought it would be fun to get her something like this that she could play with in our den! We are trying to not have too many toys that light up and play music for our own sanity, but also so that she gets used to using her imagination and amusing herself with more simple things. She saw an activity table at a friend’s house recently though and loved it, so something like that table could be a hit! I’m tempted to get this one because it’s so cute, but I think she would like to stand at the other one better since she’s obsessed with standing right now …

5. I can’t tell if these are amazing or hideous but I’m leaning towards amazing …

6. I have a few spots in my house where I can’t seem to keep large plants alive, but I found this faux plant at Target (it’s the one in the above photo) and it looks so good that I bought two of them (their picture doesn’t do it justice, I promise). They use real dried leaves for the base of the stems and I think that really helps give the plants an authentic look.

7. Have you guys tried the Beyond Meat burgers yet? It is by far the best vegetarian burger I’ve ever had—it’s pretty amazing. It has 20 grams of plant-based protein and tastes delicious. We load ours with all the usual burger toppings and I honestly feel you wouldn’t know the difference if you didn’t tell someone it was vegetarian!

8. Love Oh Joy’s suggestions for “girl power” books for kids! I saw this one a few weeks ago in a store and thought it was such a good book to have available for girls today.

9. This adorable luggage set makes me want to go on a trip to anywhere just to have an excuse to use it!

10. I’m practicing finding a good drying method/brush/product combination to get my hair smooth from just drying it so I don’t have to straighten it as well (hoping to save time and have less heat on my hair). Usually if I just dry my hair my usual way it is frizzy and giant (and not in a good way), but for the first time ever this week I did a blowout on my own that I would actually wear out as is! I’ll let you know the full process once I feel more confident in it, but that’s a huge deal for me to accomplish on my own!

I think I am going to fill some Easter eggs for Lola this year, but instead of candy I’m just going to put blueberries in. She hasn’t had any refined sugar yet and blueberries are her favorite, so she’ll be very happy to open them and won’t feel like she’s missing out at all. We would always have to find our Easter baskets somewhere in the house growing up and we’d play “hot/cold” until we found it. Did anyone else do that or was that just us?? xo. Laura

  from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8265713 https://ift.tt/2GkAuCL via IFTTT

#IFTTT #RSSMix.com Mix ID 8265713

[ennuiae]

It’s the homestretch!! Wow I cannot believe that the Winter 10 x 10 Challenge is almost over!  Only one more day and I’m done.  I’ve learned so much during this challenge…mostly that I miss my other clothes.  I think after this challenge, I’m going to do a giant cleanup of my closet.  I also want to get some more storage bins for the clothes that aren’t in season because as of now they are sitting in these fabric zip containers at the bottom of my closet and I’ve noticed they don’t really seem to keep my clothes fresh…as in, after a few months of them sitting in there they smell musty and I think a plastic container would be much better.

ANYWAYS…haha I’ll post about my upcoming plans for my closet and future style / fashion posts later but lets get to Look 9!

Also if it’s your first time here swing back to my very first post about the challenge here! 

Look 9:

I used these pieces for this look:

-Old winter boots

-Uniqlo green box shirt

-Uniqlo old circle skirt

I’m also wearing some leggings from GU that tend to fall down quite easily..I think they are best worn under pants and not a skirt to be honest but all of my other leggings were hang drying so what can you do.  I’m also wearing a grey heat tech turtle neck and thick brown socks from Uniqlo. Lately turtlenecks have been my jam, which is funny because when I was a child I used to HATE them…like literally I would scream when my mom would force me into one.

Thoughts

So a few things…I probably should have pulled up my leggings before taking this photo but ah well roll with the punches. This is actually the first photo I’ve taken in this whole blog series where I’m wearing socks.  I only have two pairs of thick winter socks though, so all the other pairs I’ve been wearing are thin character socks that probably look ghastly in photos (see what I did there…haha if you know me, you know I own a lot of Pokemon socks).  Besides my leggings falling down, I really like this look.  At first I wanted to style this with a black turtleneck but I couldn’t locate a black one so I opted for a grey one and I actually like this better.  Maybe black on black would have been a bit too uniform?  Not sure.  As I said in Look 7, I would have rather had the green box shirt be a bit baggier.  I think it would have added some better shapes to this look.  Things I like about this look is the comfort factor as well as all the contrasting colors.  It all looks very put together and professional.  This is probably one of the most comfortable looks I’ve worn and since I’m so tired this Friday I’m glad I decided to go with something comfortable. I actually wore the circle skirt yesterday but I couldn’t be bothered to wash it and I really wanted to pair it with the box shirt today.  Nothing a bit of Febreeze can’t fix am I right?

This look is much better than yesterdays.  Lesson learned…the circle skirt looks much better with a shirt layered on top of it rather than tucked into it.

Outside

I’m wearing…wait you guessed it..my blue Uniqlo coat yet again.  Now a few things, I really really miss my other coats/jackets.  I have quite a few that I’ve collected over the years I’ve been living in Japan..a black fuzzy one, a grey and brown reversible structured one, a jean jacket lined with fuzzy material, and a green military type.  I miss all of these…I can’t wait to wear them again.  I seriously cannot wait.  Once this challenge is over I’m taking a break from Mr. Blue Coat because I’m getting sick of it.  Though, I will not pretend that it doesn’t look amazing in pretty much everything I pair it with…and that is basically why I chose it for this challenge.

I’m also wearing my thick knit cardigan under the coat.  This is my “cheat” for today.  I just needed an extra layer because it’s so cold and this knit is a closet hero.

Kawaii Flair

Today’s Kawaii Flair is pretty low key, but I’m wearing one of my favorite lip colors: “Pudgy Peony” from Clinique’s chubby stick collection.  This is one of my most used lip colors ever.  It subtly reminds me of the color my grandma wears.  I think we have yet another thing in common: love for bright lipstick colors.  I’m also wearing this wonderful neck warmer I received as a holiday present.  It’s so warm and cute and I’m super excited about it because I’ve never actually owned a neck warmer before but they are pretty regular in Japan.  The last addition to today’s Kawaii Flair is a giant black hair tie.

So what do you think of today’s look?  I feel very much fatigued from blogging and taking pictures but I also love having something to do every day and this challenge has really helped me figure out my blogging niche as well as think up a ton of future blog ideas.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed but today we are having a cloudy drizzly day so my picture’s lighting is so-so.   I hope you enjoyed today’s blog post and look out for tomorrow’s post on Look 10!

Ps.  Check out our lovely hosts’s of this wonderful challenge here and check out their most recent looks: Un-Fancy & Style Bee <3

Thank you for stopping by!

OH!  Also, I posted a VLOG on my Youtube channel!  Check it out by clicking this link! 

Winter 10 x 10: Look 9  It's the homestretch!! Wow I cannot believe that the Winter 10 x 10 Challenge is almost over!  

#capsule #capsule closet #capsule wardrobe #capsules #clinique #fashion #GU #japan #japan blog #japan blogger #japan vlogger #japanese fashion #life in japan #minimal #minimal challenge #minimalist #simple #simple style #stylebee10x10 #Uniqlo #winter fashion #winter wear #winter10x10challenge