#hopefully on the assisted living side she’ll see more people even if she still generally refuses to leave her room

[bundlebrent]

Me? Start a book at 8 and realize at 2am I read it all? Couldn’t be possible

#I’m so going to regret it in the morning #we’re moving my grandma #hopefully I’ll be fully awake by the time the hard part starts #for me anyway #I’m in charge of taking her for a walk about while they move her main set up #since she’s got to be in her wheelchair anyways she might as well see a bit more of the building she’s been living in #hopefully on the assisted living side she’ll see more people even if she still generally refuses to leave her room #for long er than a short walk #and doesn’t want to meet or get to know anyone there #I’m quite confident I know more people than her #i should sleep #I’m definitely being a dimbass by delaying it further

[bebepac]

Derby Girl

ORIGINAL POST DATE: 05/12/21 at 7:22PM EST

This is The Life of Riley Book Two.  To catch up with what you’ve missed so far, please click:

  The Life of Riley- Book Two. 

My Book 2 starts with basically TRR book 1 starts.  

If you’re curious to see the elaborate back story I have created for my version of Riley Brooks Please click: 

The Life of Riley Book One.

It will answer a lot of your questions that are left out of the Canon that PB wrote.  

The Book: TRR

The Pairing:  Liam x Riley

Word Count: 2011

Warnings:  Sexual innuendo

Summary: Riley goes to her first derby.  Liam and Drake make a bet (this episode has a few canon-ish parts. The most you’ll see in my series.) 

Deena is my own character, all others belong to Pixelberry. 

A/N:  I’m on vacation as of yesterday until May 25th.  I plan to do as much writing as i can in this time period.  Hopefully release some chapters of people’s favorites and get back on schedule a little bit with some releases on things people haven’t seen in a bit.  

Riley slowly opened her eyes.   

She thought she had dreamed the whole thing.  She was sure she would wake up in her tiny little apartment with Daniel.  She sat up in the ornately designed bedroom.

She went to peer out over the balcony seeing the beautifully trimmed gardens.  

I really have the chance to win a Prince’s heart. She thought. Last night dancing in the Maze with Liam was the most amazing feeling. Riley could not wipe the dopey grin she had on her face.

There was a soft knock on her door.

Maxwell appeared.  

“Good Morning Little Blossom!  How are you today? You look so happy this morning.”

“I’m great.  I’m still so amazed by this place at times Maxwell.  There’s just so much beauty here. And Liam is here."

“And you get to be a part of this Little Blossom, because of the way he feels about you.  I see the way Prince Liam looks at you.”

“Then why can’t he just say it then?”

“Because that’s not how things are done here with people of his status.  You wouldn’t only be only his choice, but the choice of the people and they have to love you too and they don’t know you.  No one knows who Riley Antonia Brooks of New York truly is.”

Both Riley and Maxwell abruptly turned around to the voice of the person talking in the room.

Smile officially gone. Stolen by the rat bastard with the sneer standing at the door to her bedroom.

“Lady Riley meet my brother Bertrand.”

“The Duke of Ramsford.”

Riley decided since he went with such a formal title even though she was wearing her pajamas she should curtsy.   He seemed stuffy and the antithesis of Maxwell.

He nodded.  “The New Yorker can be trained to fit in here.”  

Riley glared at him.  “I’m not an animal Duke Ramsford.”  

“That remains to be seen.  If the Cordonian people do not fall in love with you, even though he could be Lady Riley, he will not choose you.  Love is not the only thing that matters here.  It’s honestly not even a factor here.  Prince Liam has a duty to his people to pick the most suitable woman to be at his side.  So you, my  dear idealistic girl, must learn to give the people what they want.  The derby today will give you the opportunity to meet the press for the first time.  This will set the tone of how the people will begin to approve of you or disapprove of you.  The Queen is also important here as well.”  

“I think the Queen might potentially be on my side.”  

Bertrand laughed.  “You don’t know The Queen.”  

“I met with her and she wasn’t rude to me. She was actually helpful when you think about it.  She told me to get a feel for the audience that will be watching me and dress for them.  I think that’s helpful advice.”

“You’re right, that is helpful advice.”  Maxwell chimed in trying to release some of the tension.

“You need to get ready. Head to the boutique and make sure you pick something suitable.”

Riley almost didn’t want to go to the boutique after what happened to her the last time.

However, when she walked in, she was greeted by a kind middle-aged woman with a genuinely welcoming smile.

“And you must be Lady Riley.”

“I am.” Riley still had her guard up her voice and body language tight and protecting herself.  

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

“Oh?”

“I know that the last time you were here, you didn’t have the greatest experience with the staff, and I apologize for that, but if there is anything you need I will be more than willing to assist.”  

“Thank you so very much.”  

Riley smiled.

“It’s no wonder….”

“It’s no wonder what?”

“Why he’s so enchanted with you.  Lady Riley you’re absolutely breathtaking, without a stitch of makeup, and you have such a kind-hearted spirit. I can almost feel it radiate off you.  I was sworn to secrecy, because he couldn’t hide how he feels about you.  Let me know if you need any help picking out something for him.  You’re living your very own Cinderella story right now.”  

It was the nicest anyone had been to her since she landed.  Riley’s eyes filled with tears.  

“Oh no, don’t do that dear.  I know things have been a little rough for you.  The royal life is not easy.  They don’t only fight with words, they fight with glares and  underhanded behaviors.  But I’m here now.  At least here, you will always be treated like the royalty I believe you will become someday.  Now let’s pick out something beautiful for him.”

Riley thumbed through the racks.

"If I may?  I did notice his eyes fall on this dress here.  It looks to be your size, and that color would look like heaven on you."

"Pink is my favorite color."

"Then you should try it on."

This woman Deena, had made the palace boutique an oasis.

Riley tried on the dress staring at herself in the mirror.

"His face is going to be just as pink as that dress when he sees you. That dress was made for you. And since you're going to the derby try this as well."

She gave Riley a white hat.

The hat didn't quite stay on.

Riley laughed. "Big hair goals and hats don't generally mix."

Deena laughed.  "This is true. I think Dolly Parton said it best, if someone tells you hair is too big. Get rid of them, you don't need that kind of negativity in your life!"

"That's a plan!"

“Thank you Deena.”  

“You show them honey. You show them why he’s picking you.”  

Riley decided to be the "Derby Girl" for the day she would straighten her hair. The hat laid perfectly.  

“Little Blossom! You look amazing!”

“Thank you Lord Maxwell,” she responded as Bertrand walked into the room.

“Yes, she picked a suitable outfit to be seen in and for the media.  We should be on our way.”

The whole duration of the ride Bertrand droned on about  royalty, the queen, and the event and the Cordonian Ruby Apple.  

“When you are done with your interview you’re going to go over to the pink tents to watch the race with the other suitors.”  

“Greaaat. Will Prince Liam be dropping by?”  

“Probably not, you’ll see him at the picnic afterwards.”  

“You got this Little Blossom!”

Riley managed to stay cool and calm while talking to the press.  The press deemed her “The Mystery Woman” based on her answers.  It was fitting she thought, because a lot of her life, even for herself, was a mystery to her. All the missing memory gaps she had of her life before the accident, at times, Riley felt she barely knew herself.  

She looked for the pink tents not seeing any, but when she turned she saw Drake heading toward  a tent.   She quickly followed him, leaping inside.  

The Prince jumped to attention, his jaw locked, his body rigid, and his face stern.  She realized what she had done.  He had probably been trained for surprise attacks, and he had to always be alert.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t think..” Riley whispered.  

The prince visibly relaxed. 

“No, on the contrary it’s a very welcome surprise.  How did you manage to get in here?”  

“Playing a game of following the leader.”

The beer Drake was about to drink she pulled from his hand.

“Thanks for the beer Drake, you're too kind.”

Drake looked like he wanted to say something, but  he remained silent.  

Liam lightly cleared his throat.  

“I’m going to….”  

“You don’t have to….”  Riley started to say, but she saw the look in Liam’s eyes.

“Bye Drake.”  She whispered, her eyes not leaving Liam’s.  

Drake walked out letting the tent fall closed.  

He pulled Riley to his lap, softly stroking her hair.  

“You look beautiful.  But you know I love your curls.”

“I know.  I would have had a wardrobe malfunction otherwise if i didn’t straighten it.  My hat wouldn’t fit.”  

“You would have been just as beautiful without it.”  

“I know but it’s the derby and Bertrand was making such a big deal about the derby and looking appropriate.  And even though I know nothing else about derbys I know next to the horse race, number two is woman in hats.  Your hat game must be on point.  Serious hat-age.”

Liam laughed, tightening his grip around her.

“Lady Riley, no one makes me laugh like you do.   I’m always so happy when you’re around.  Not just the things you say, or the way you look at me.  It’s who you are, that radiates off you, and I just feel it wrap around me.”

“And what does that feel like?”

“You feel like sunshine Lady Riley.  Sunshine on a summer day.  The perfect summer day. When you close your eyes and just feel the sun warm your skin, and you are so content to just.....be in that moment.  That’s how I feel when we are in the same space together.”

She softly kissed his lips.  

He began another kiss, but then pulled away too soon.  “As much as I would love to see where this could go, we have to at least watch the race.” Riley slipped off his lap into the seat next to him as he opened the tent.  

Drake came in a few minutes later with new beers.  

Riley was silent, listening to Liam and Drake talk about  the race and their friendly wager, and how she got roped into it she’ll never know.  She was going to be sitting on the back of the loser while they did ten push-ups.  

“Who’s your money on winning the bet, me or Drake?”

Riley winced.  

“As much faith as I have in you Liam, I think Drake might know more about horses and the stables. So my money is on Drake. I’m sorry.”

“Ouch that had to hurt Liam.”  Drake chuckled.

Liam looked hurt. 

“Did you want the truth, or did you want me to lie to you Liam?”

“The truth Lady Riley, always the truth.”  

Annnnd…. Riley was right.

Liam unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it on the empty chair.

He got into a push-up position.

“Lady Riley if you will.”

Riley hopped onto Liam’s back.  Even though he was surprised he still held a tight planked push up position.  

“Lady Riley!”

“God she’s ruthless, are you sure you want this one?”  Drake laughed.

“I’ve been on him before, I knew he could handle it.”  

Liam choked back a laugh for a moment, his form unwavering.

“She’s right, I can handle her.”  

“TMI Brooks!!!”

Liam easily did all ten push ups unbroken.  

When Liam was done  he put on his dress shirt again.  

“Drake will take you back to the other suitors for a late lunch.”

“A sweet little goodbye kiss to tide me over until I'm in your presence again?”

Riley seductively puckered her lips, tapping her index finger against them.  

Liam glanced around  and pulled her to him kissing her.   Her fingers gently tugged his hair as his kiss deepened and his grip tightened around her.

Drake dropped her off with the other suitors.  

“I can’t believe we didn’t even get to see  Prince Liam at all!”   Lady Penelope's voice rang out in annoyance. “I had the best story to tell about my poodles to make him laugh.”  

“Where were you Lady Riley?”  

“I got lost again.  All these places around here look the same.  Drake found me finally and brought me over here to you guys.”

“Lady Riley you need to get it together.  Being late because you got lost won’t look well for you with the media.”    Lady Kiara  shook her head.  

“I’m not sure I believe her.”  

Olivia stepped up to her staring into Riley’s face.  

“Why would I lie?  You saw Drake drop me off here right Liv?”  

“I saw, but something feels off.  I don’t trust you Lady Riley.  Something is afoot.”

“Well, then I guess it’s game on then, Scarlet Duchess?”

“Yes.  Game on.”  

Tags in the comments!

#bebepac writes #the life of riley #book two #riley goes to cordonia #trr fanfic #trr fandom #liam and riley #trr mc x liam #prince liam #riley brooks #riley origin story #trr riley #choices fic writers creations

[aswithasunbeam]

Rated: Teen and Up

Summary: Fanny Antill has been separated from the Hamilton family for four years when she learns her big brother has died in a duel. She rushes to the Hamilton's home, uncertain of the reception she'll receive. Four years was a long time to be away. (But not so very long at all, in the end.)

_

The carriage rolled to a stop outside the Hamilton residence. Fanny Antill reached for the handle to open the door before the driver could come around, but her sister placed a hand over hers to stop her. Polly peeked out the window, looking nervously at the building.

“Are you sure, Fanny?” Polly asked, uncomfortable. “This feels…intrusive. Their son just died.”

Fanny felt a lump form in her throat.

She’d grown up adoring Philip. When she’d read in the paper what happened to him, she’d felt his loss like a blow to the stomach. The idea that she would never again be pulled into one of Pip’s bear hugs had left her dizzy. But it had been four years since she’d left the Hamilton’s home to live with Polly and her husband, long enough that no one around her seemed to deem the loss as her own.

“I wish to give my condolences in person,” Fanny said, hoping that sounded mature and reasonable even as she swallowed down tears.

Polly still looked uncomfortable, but she removed her hand from Fanny’s. The driver had come around and the door opened just as Fanny pushed, causing her to stumble slightly. She caught her footing and descended without the assistance of the driver, rushing to the door as fast as propriety allowed. She’d already rung the bell before Polly was by her side.

A young maid Fanny didn’t recognize answered the door. “May I help you, ma’am?”

Polly answered, “My name is Mrs. Lansing, and this is my sister, Miss Antill. We are here to see your master and mistress, if they are at home?”

The maid looked surprised and uncertain. “Well, ma’am, they are at home, but they aren’t receiving visitors at the present time. There has been a…a family tragedy, you see. If you were to come back, maybe in a week or so….”

“No, please,” Fanny interrupted, desperate, not caring if she was being rude. “They know me. I…I grew up here. Please, just ask them if they’ll see me. Please.”

The maid now looked confused and even more uncertain. She glanced back inside, as though hoping to see someone else, then back at the two women on the doorstep. At last, she opened the door to invite them in.

“If you’ll both just step into the parlor, I will inquire if Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton will see you now,” she explained, motioning them to the warm room with the fire blazing. Fanny stepped inside, the smell of home comforting to her in a way nothing else had been since she’d read that horrible newspaper report.

Polly sat on the edge of the chair near the fire, the one Papa liked to sit in with his paper after breakfast on Sunday. Fanny took a turn around the room to examine the familiar knickknacks and finery. Her stomach started to twist as the minute hand on the mantle clock continued to move without any sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Had they refused to see her?

It had been four years since she’d been part of the family. She’d seen them a handful of times since, but she was much older now, sixteen, nearly a grown woman. Maybe she’d overestimated her place in their affections?

Oh, but they just had to see her. Her big brother had just died. All she wanted was to share her grief with people who had known and loved Philip, too. Should she really have taken Polly’s advice and written a letter of condolence instead?

She sank into a seat and closed her eyes. She remembered, as a very little girl, being sat down by Mama and Papa on the very sofa upon which she now waited, while they gently explained to her that her father had died up north. She hadn’t remembered him well enough to mourn him, but it had been her first introduction to the idea of death. The loss of the elusive father figure who'd featured in stories and an occasional letter had left her with terrible nightmares of Mama or Papa dying, too.

She recalled one night slipping out of bed and downstairs, hovering in the partially opened doorway to Papa’s office. His candle was burning low, his face shadowed as he scribbled out notes with great concentration. After watching him for several minutes, she’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask, “Papa?”

He’d startled slightly. “You shouldn’t be up, my little lady.” Beckoning her towards him, he added, “What’s the matter?”  

She’d crawled up into his lap, worrying her lip as she leaned against him. “Are you going to die?”

She’d watched his face, saw him swallow back his knee-jerk “no” and consider her question carefully.

“Someday,” he’d said. “Hopefully not for a very long time.”

“But you don’t know that,” she’d pressed.

“I don’t,” he’d agreed. His hand soothed over her back in a comforting rhythm. “We can only do the best we can with the time God gives us. But I can promise you that you’ll always be loved and cared for by your family, whatever might happen to me.”

She’d taken such comfort in that assurance, that whatever might come, she had a family who would love her. Had that just been a kindness, a soothing lie to a frightened child?

Finally, finally, she heard footsteps coming towards the parlor.

She jumped out of her seat, shifting nervously and practically holding her breath.

Papa stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Fanny felt a new wave of grief crash over her at the sight of him. He looked ill, pale and shaky. His pallor was even more stark against the suit of deep black he wore.

Now, after all her doubtful thoughts, she wasn’t sure what to do. She stood there, staring at him, her lower lip quivering as she worried the end of a satin ribbon on her dress with her hands.

He looked at her with glassy eyes for a silent minute. Then his lips formed into a half smile and he held out his arms. “Come here, sweetheart,” he invited with a hoarse voice.

She all but ran over to him, crashing into his embrace and squeezing him tight. Hot tears rushed down her face; she turned her head into his soft jacket to hide them from him. “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know if…if it was…I…I wanted to….” She struggled to speak, her voice high and halting through the tears that suddenly wouldn’t stop coming.

“Hush, my little lamb,” he cooed, rocking slowly back and forth on his heels as he held her and rubbed her back, just like he had when she was a little girl.

She cried even harder, letting out an embarrassing little hiccup when she tried to catch her breath. She didn’t know what to say or do, and instead she let out a plaintive, “Papa.”

“It’s all right, Fanny. I know. Everything’s going to be all right,” he soothed.

When she finally had her crying under control, she leaned back, her cheeks flaming red from her tears and a blush. She hadn’t meant to go into hysterics; she had meant to come here to comfort him.

He produced a clean white handkerchief from his inside breast pocket and offered it to her. She took it and wiped her eyes, then her nose, which had started running. A sniffle escaped her as she cleaned her face, and Papa ran his thumb across her cheek to dry the last of her tears.

“There, there,” he said gently. “That’s better now. You’re all right.”

She nodded and he pulled her into his embrace once more.

“Mrs. Lansing, thank you for bringing her over here today. At this difficult time, I'm sure you can imagine the comfort of having our family together,” Papa said to Polly. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, perhaps we could keep Fanny with us for a few days?”

Fanny felt relief and love course through her at his words.

“If that’s all right with you, of course, my dear?” he added, pulling away a little to look at her again.

Fanny nodded. "Yes, please."

“Of course, General Hamilton, but…well, Fanny isn’t prepared for any kind of stay,” Polly said hesitantly.

“I’m sure some of Angelica’s old things will suit for a few days,” Papa said. "We'll make sure she has everything she needs."

“Well, all right,” Polly agreed, standing from her chair, her brow furrowed slightly. “I’ll send the coach for you on Friday next, if that’s agreeable?”

Fanny nodded to her sister and untangled herself from Papa’s arms long enough to give her a hug goodbye. Polly squeezed her once, then let go. Polly stopped before Papa and said, “I…I am so sorry for your loss, General.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lansing.”

When Polly had gone, Papa kissed her on the forehead, then placed his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, smiling weakly. “Look how you’ve grown.”

“I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me,” she confessed.

He shook his head. “Never. You are always welcome here, my dear little lady.”

She smiled at the old pet name and hugged him again.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “Mama’s anxious to see you.”

“She is?”

“Of course.” His arm settled around her shoulders as he led her from the room.

She trailed him upstairs and fell into the warm embrace of her family.

#hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #fanny antill #philip hamilton #grief/mourning #father-daughter relationship

[artificialqueens]

Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 3 (Lemon x Everyone) - Mermelada

A/N Hi everyone, I’ve been sitting on this chapter for a wee while but couldn’t quite get it right, so I hope this will do! Lots of love to you all!

As soon as Lemon had arrived home after her date with Kyne – at 9 o’clock the following morning – she flopped onto her bed and checked her phone. She opened the app to be greeted with a number of new messages.

[08:48] Hope you got home safe baby, please try not to fall in love with me now xx

The first one she read, from Kyne, made her chuckle, she’d actually had a really, REALLY good time last night. It turned out that there was actually a very easy way to get the girl to stop talking. Kyne had every reason to be cocky, and Lemon hadn’t been made to feel so good for a very long time. She had even managed to go a couple of hours without thinking of her. Speaking of her, they still hadn’t matched, which was definitely for the best, as Lemon didn’t think she could stand the inescapable mutual awkwardness if they did. But then did that mean that Juice had swiped left on her? Deciding to stop the mental tennis before it got out of hand, she pulled up the bottom message on her list, from yesterday.

[16:04] Bonjour hi, Miss Lemon! Tu parles français? Or am I needing to practice my English? :-) 

Rita. From her profile, she looked every bit the no-shit-taking dom top with a major mommy’s little girl kink, but her message was kind of sweet. The fact she had even bothered to check what language Lemon spoke was cute, she supposed, but she crossed her fingers that Rita had an edge and wasn’t all politeness and niceties. Now that Lemon had had her first taste of Tinder hook-ups, she was ready to dive in with no fear. Well maybe just a tiny bit of fear. She quickly typed out a reply, partly assisted by the internet, and sent it off.

[09:09] I’m assuming you don’t count ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’ as proper French 😉

Is it completely cliché and unoriginal? Yes. Has Rita probably already received hundreds of messages saying the same thing? Yes. But I’m tired and still feeling fucked out, so it’ll do. If she likes me, she’ll bite. Hopefully for real, soon…

Following on, she finally had a reply from Kiara.

[19:20] Hi girlie! I am SO sorry for replying so late, I have been working all day and all night this week ☹️ but seeing your profile made me feel better 🙂 how are you??

Double-checking quickly in case she’d missed something important, she realised that the girl’s profile didn’t say what she did as a job, so that seemed like a good place to start.

[09:13] Don’t worry at all, hon! But I’m glad I can help 😉 I’m doing okay thanks, and u? What do you do for work? x

Is a kiss on the end too forward or too friendly, she pondered, trying to remember if she’d done the same for Rita and Kyne before her. It’s done now, I’ll soon find out, I guess!

[23:56] You’re named after the wrong fruit, because you’re definitely a fineapple

The third message was from Boa, who she must have matched with during the night. She loved it. She wanted it on a cross-stitch, framed above her bed. She’d definitely made the right choice with this girl. Now, how to match her at her own game… 

[09:15] You udderly impressed me with that one!

As soon as it had sent, Lemon was hit with a massive wave of self-doubt: what if Boa didn’t get the pun and just thought she was weird? She’d always thought she was quite funny, but what if that was all a lie? There was still time to rectify it.

[09:15] Because of the cow costume, get it?

[09:15] It’s so cute!!!

[09:16] You seem really fun 😀

[09:16] And it helps that your hot

[09:16] You’re^ 

Shit shit shitting shit, that is way overboard for a reply. What the fuck have I done? Oh dear lord, well Boa, it was nice knowing ya! I don’t blame you for blocking me and running to the hills!

Some more general swiping ensued as Lemon awaited some replies, she started aimlessly swiping again through the single ladies of Ontario.

Scarlett, 29

Within 10 miles

Hmm, she looks like she has a bit of filler in those lips but she still looks hot, I like her tattoos, and HOLY SHIT SHE’S EATING FIRE fuck yeah, okay Scarlett! I’ll take that!

Ilona, 25

Within 10 miles

Okay I love her make-up, I love her style… all her photos are selfies, does that mean she has no friends? Don’t be silly, Lem, my camera roll is full of selfies and I’m just fine. I think. Hey, Ilona!

Starzy, 38

Within 10 miles

Oh wow, she’s hot. Her bio literally says, “Call me mother”. That has to be the hottest thing I have ever read, yes please!

After a few more likes and dislikes, Kiara’s name lit up at the top of her screen. Not wanting to seem too keen, she waited a monumental thirty seconds before checking the message.

[09:22] I work on a movie set, but nothing glamorous, I help with hair and makeup. It pays my rent 🙂 I am pretty tired today but I have a deadline soon so I have to keep writing ☹️ where do you work? x

Just as she was thinking of the best way to word her current, work-less situation, a reply also came in from Rita, which Lemon accidentally clicked on sooner than she meant to, completely blowing her cool façade.

[09:25] I’ve never heard that one before…

Lemon’s heart sank at the thought of her impending rejection, but a new message arrived seconds later.

[09:25] At least look up how to say it less formally, I’m not that old!!!!

Smiling at the thought of Rita not automatically hating her – not outright rejecting her – Lemon started to type a reply, but stopped when a third message appeared.

[09:26] Mais si je dis oui, es-tu vraiment libre ce soir? ;-)

Somehow, the more Lemon stared at the words, the less sense they made. She now severely regretted passing her time in French class admiring Madame Benet’s assortment of leopard-print clothing, rather than actually learning. But there was a winky face at the end, which made her heart race, even without understanding the rest of it. Highlighting the text and taking it straight to Google, she couldn’t help but bite her lip as she got Rita’s point.

[09:30] Wee wee, madame 💛 give me a place and a time xx

As much as she may have been looking forward to a good night’s sleep tonight, she still felt the swarm of butterflies flap around her tummy at the thought of Rita’s hands on her, telling her she was a good girl… Don’t get carried away yet, dummy, save it for tonight! I need a cold shower if I’m going to survive the next few hours. Before jumping into action mode, though, the first thing Lemon needed was a nap.

Rousing awake a few hours later, she padded downstairs to make herself a sandwich and a tea, continuously checking her phone with the hope tha Rita had replied. Met with silence, she then took her time to shower, deep conditioning her golden blonde hair and shaving everywhere she could, so she could at least feel better prepared than she had yesterday. Not that a grown-up adult lady like Rita would mind, of course, but it’s all part of getting in the zone, Lemon hummed to herself as she let the water wash away any anxiety she might have had about tonight. 

She already knew what underwear she would wear: her favourite black bra with a light furry trim around the cup, and a lacy black thong. She was so sure that Rita was on the same page about how the night would end, she felt like she didn’t have to worry too much about what went over it, opting for indigo skinny jeans and a beige polo-neck. By the time she had finished her makeup, it was almost 5pm, and she still didn’t know the plan. Sitting up on her bed, contemplating how she would explain to her parents that she was spending the night out again, she once again opened the app, hoping that Rita hadn’t backed down. With still no reply, she couldn’t help the frustration which bubbled inside her, she didn’t spend so long stretching to shave the backs of her thighs for nothing! Even more discouraging was the lack of reply from Kiara… until she looked at the last message sent, and realised that she’d unwittingly left the poor girl on read.

Shit, I thought I’d replied already! That explains it… now how to explain that I’m a dancer who doesn’t dance anymore and has moved back in with my parents with no ambition to find anything else anytime soon?

[16:58] You’re a busy lady! What do you study? 😊

[16:59] I’m a dancer, currently hopping from audition to audition, hoping somebody likes me enough!

The reality was that Lemon hadn’t attended any auditions for over a month. She had tried to throw herself into her work after the break-up, but had soon realised that with a broken heart came an enormous lack of drive. She told the contemporary company she was a member of that she needed a break, and they told her to not bother coming back. So here she was, hoping that one day she’d once again wake up with a flame inside of her. Luckily, Kiara didn’t push her to expand on anything just yet.

[17:04] So a bit like Tinder then! Don’t worry, I’m sure lots of people will like you enough… in dance and Tinder!

[17:05] I study film and theatre, it’s fun 🙂 but a lot of essays to write in English which takes me forever lol

[17:06] That makes me sound like an idiot!! I promise I’m not, just Québéquoise!! 

[17:06] Are you from Toronto? 🙂

Well at least if tonight doesn’t go ahead, I’ve still got a French option for the future, she sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she thought of an answer. 

[17:08] Haha, I believe you 😉 my dad is from Portugal, but I think there are 2 year olds who speak better Portuguese than I do 🥺 

[17:08] That sounds super interesting! Your job on the side must help a bit then?

[17:08] And I am, Toronto gal born and bred! How long have you lived here?

Just as she was about to put her phone down for the evening and fall into another nap, the message she’d been waiting for finally arrived, and Lemon found herself scrambling to read it.

[17:09] Sorry, lovely Lemon, work was kicking my ass all day. Does Mado’s at 8pm work for you? X

Lemon couldn’t resist one final reply, cementing her intentions.

[17:10] Sounds great, I’m sure I can help that ass feel better 😘 see you soon!! 💛💛

A/N It’s me again, your friendly neighbourhood translator!

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” - Do you want to sleep with me tonight?

“Mais si je dis oui, es-tu vraiment libre ce soir?” - But if I say yes, are you really free tonight?

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #lemon #kyne #kiara #rita baga #scarlett bobo #ilona verley #anastarzia anaquway #lmid #mermelada #submission #can1

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Αιώνια αγάπη (AU) pt.1

01: First day mistakes

Summary: Getting a chance to pledge for her mother’s old sorority, Y/N is completely unaware of the turmoil that await ahead. Once she meets the handsome Dolan twins, she finds herself making the mistake of liking them.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language

Word count: ~ 4000

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST  

Thank you for being in the story: @graysons-thumb as Perry, @daddygraysonsbitch as Sara Howell. 

Also a big shout out to my girl Yashi for being a beta reader on this! @godlydolans.

Sorority life. It's supposed to be a glamorous experience with parties, sorority sisters you can always count on and crazy cute fraternity guys who are more than just their body. The whole point is to provide students with opportunities to lead, serve, build lifelong relationships to fall back on and grow intellectually.

That's what Y/N expected, at least.

As a legacy, she had a place already guaranteed in the Kappa Delta chapter of Dartmouth. It's practically all her mother ever talked about concerning college and although she was sick of it at the time, she came to miss her excited rambling once she passed.

It was never a path Y/N wanted to take, quite the opposite. Y/N always planned to escape the Greek life and Dartmouth in general if possible. However, those rambles her mother annoyed her with in the past had become the very reason why she set her sights on Dartmouth and Kappa Delta. She was determined all through high school to land a spot and having her legacy status definitely made it easier. She wasn't the type to enjoy nepotism, but there was no way she'd ever refuse that advantage in this matter.

After her mother died, her determination to follow in her footsteps was the only thing that connected her to her spirit. She felt closer to her mother, like she was still there and cheering for her. She wanted to make her proud and continue what she wanted for her.

So she did.

With her dad unable to drive her, Y/N took matters in her own hands and drove to Dartmouth on her own. She didn't mind it, though. In fact, she's become used to her father's absence. He loved her mother dearly and her death left him a changed man. He still took care of Y/N, he gave her attention she needed, but he turned to work for a cure to his pain. Y/N understood, because she did a similar thing with her college obsession. She looked a lot like her mother, but her temper matched her father's.

Parking the car, she's immediately greeted with a sensory overload of flashy clothes and loud music, so many people walking around her and laughing at jokes she wasn't in on. They milled about with rucksacks, mostly in little packs of three or four. Jeans almost ubiquitous, although a few dressed in bright colors, punk or goth.

She grabbed her bag, knowing her things are already shipped to the sorority house on campus. Although she'll have to go through the pledging process, she had already received her rushing invitation which she gladly accepted. The girls she talked to were over the moon, because having legacies is always a great statement on the sorority and its quality.

Y/N was a sign of their good reputation, one she wanted to maintain.

Engrossed in her own thoughts, Y/N stumbles, tripping on her own two feet. Time seems to slow down when you're falling. In the seconds it took her to reach the ground she knew it was going to hurt. Just before she hits the ground, eyes closed to prepare for the pain, she finds herself wrapped in someone's arms. The cologne is a dead giveaway of the sex, large muscles that encased her serving as backup proof.

Squinting with her left eye, Y/N faced a breathtaking view and a mirthful laugh.

His hair is messy, wild and pushed up in the front, the sides pushing forward as if to form wings of sorts. The deep brown strands let the sun trickle through to her face, almost blinding her. To be fair, she's completely unsure if the sun is to blame or his beauty. His eyes carry a kindness she's rarely seen in her life and a glint of mischief she'd always found entertaining. Arched, slightly bushy eyebrows and long, thick eyelashes frame his eyes and it makes her heart speed up beyond what she thought possible. His nose is perfectly formed, the kind of a button-small shape that achieved a look she'd think was thoroughly photoshopped. Her eyes flicker to his lips, licking her own subconsciously. Those lips are plump, gently pink and tucked to the left corner to form a self-satisfied smirk. It brings her attention to his left cheek and she notes the cute freckle that only adds onto his already extraordinary good looks.

"Can I help you to your feet now or will you stare at my face all day?" The guy remarks playfully, ruining the picture she had painted in her mind.

Why do guys speaking usually destroy all the romance of the moment?

She holds onto his shoulders with both hands, helping herself up with little to no assistance on his behalf.

"Thanks." She fakes a smile, politely thanking the guy in front of her. She can finally tell just how tall he is compared to her and she always considered herself to be an average height. However, next to him, she felt like a tiny figurine - small and fragile.

She takes a step back, preparing to turn around and the guy's eyes widen, grabbing a hold of her forearm quickly.

"Wait. I didn't mean to be rude." He apologizes, his previously cocky persona melting and a nervous one taking place.

"I'm Ethan." He releases her arm, offering his hand to shake.

Cautious, Y/N takes his hand and gives it a weak shake before retracting her hand to the side. She didn't want to keep the contact for too long, not wanting to suddenly find his hands attractive too. He's got too much going for him look-wise and she can live without getting hooked on him.

At least not so soon.

"Y/N." She tucks her hand inside her jacket pocket, feeling that dreaded awkwardness flood her.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ethan asks coyly, looking around before taking a step closer to her and leaning in.

"Uh, sure." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a tinge of panic rushing through her mind with his sudden closeness.

She's always had issues with people entering her personal space without permission, which is why she was on the brink of freaking out. As if he could sense it, Ethan frowned slightly, dragging his foot back and resuming his former position.

Relaxing, Y/N let out a long, heavy sigh as if she was holding her breath the entire time.

"I'm supposed to do this incredibly stupid thing, a dare of sorts and I was thinking you can be my audience? Like, maybe it will suck less with you watching me and hopefully not judging me like others will?" Ethan chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

Raising her eyebrow, her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips in thought before giving him a curt nod and a small smile of encouragement.

"Sure. I kind of owe you for saving my life a few minutes ago." Y/N reminds him, getting a very relieved Ethan to smile in gratitude. He didn't seem interested in charging her for that, like it was his second nature, but he'd sure as hell use it if it meant his embarrassment would be lessened.

Ethan cleared his throat, anxiously looking around to see if there's anyone watching him beside Y/N. Once he was certain he's in the clear, Ethan busted out the most ridiculous dance moves and a rather high pitched performance of a song Y/N deemed to be a joke.

"I don't need you crying..." Ethan's face contorted, his eyes closing shut to hide from the world.

"I don't need you lying..." He continues and even Y/N is having a hard time listening to the cringe this song turned into. People began to gather, laughing at Ethan which started to fuel her anger.

"Just one thing in life you've got to learn. Just one thing." His voice breaks and a guy whips out a phone, starting to film this disastrous event. Noticing a piece of paper in Ethan's hand, Y/N snatches it fast, stopping Ethan. He opens his eyes in fright, looking at the crowd around him like a deer in headlights, finding himself tongue tied.

"Hit me with your one thing, oh, oh, oh." Y/N starts, surprising not only Ethan, but also everyone around her. Unlike Ethan, Y/N's voice sounds trained. The vocals flow from her lips in such an aesthetically pleasing sound that Ethan is flustered. Despite horrible lyrics, the song doesn't seem so bad coming from her mouth. She nudges Ethan, pointing to the paper. She reminds him to join in, finishing the song together.

"Just one thing in life you've got to learn!" Crumbling the paper in her hand, Y/N hides it in her jeans pocket and raises her hand in the air. She opens her hand, turning her palm toward Ethan, signalling a high five is in order.

Without hesitation, Ethan high fives her, covering his mouth right after.

"That was the best thing ever. Thank you so much." He whisper shouts, eyes wide and his shoulders hunched to help him lean forward and down to be face level with the girl before him.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm awesome that way." She tucks her hair behind her ear, shyly averting her gaze to the ground. Ethan decides to be bold, pressing the tip of his index finger under her chin, tilting it up so he'd look into her eyes once more.

He liked her eyes - the colour, the intense emotion hiding behind. It's as if she doesn't even know how beautiful she is and it awakens something inside of him; something he had long forgotten. It reminds him of the past, two hundred years ago to be exact and recognition flashes in his brown hues.

"You really are." He subconsciously gravitates toward her, his lips parting ever so slightly. She's intoxicating, almost impossible to ignore and he doesn't even want to try.

Y/N doesn't move, her breath hitching in her throat when she sees Ethan is coming closer with the intent of kissing her and yet, she refuses to move. She never does this, but with him? It's an unexplained pull and she doesn't want to fight it.

"GET YOUR GRUBBY HANDS OFF HER, KDR!" A girl shouts, interrupting their moment.

Y/N jerks back, whipping around to face the screaming girl who is clearly pissed off with the almost show of affection between her and Ethan.

The girl is about 5'7'', taller than Y/N almost 5 inches! Her hair shone like the sea at night, the black strands utterly white where the bright rays fell. It falls just below her shoulders, her bangs framing her pretty face. Eyes the colour of aged mahogany, one rich and warm but most of all, burning with rage. Her cropped hoodie and high waisted jeans are stylish, but Y/N doesn't have time to focus on anything else as she nears them, pointing her index finger at Ethan accusingly.

"Next time you touch one of ours with those hands will be the last time you have hands! Capiche?" She threatens and Y/N turns to her with a frown before it dawns on her.

While every sorority had a brother frat house they worked with in furthering their goals, the history in Dartmouth had a slightly different look on it.

Well, Kappa Delta did.

Ever since the houses existed, Kappa Delta Delta and Kappa Delta Rho, the brother fraternity, have hated each other. It goes back to the very beginning and for reasons unknown to both parties at this point. What is known is that the competitiveness never stopped to this day, the bigotry runs deep.

And this girl, whoever she is, clearly belongs to Kappa Delta. That means Ethan...

Y/N stops, quickly taking one more step back and raises both hands in mock surrender.

"I had no idea!" She whisper shouts, her eyes wide as she moves over to the girl and narrows them at Ethan.

"You never said you're the enemy." Y/N points out, throwing her hair over her shoulder before turning around and stomping away.

"Hold up!" The girl runs after Y/N, catching up in no time.

"Can't. Need to get away." Y/N says through gritted teeth, horrified with what almost happened. Of course he's too good to be true. She knew there had to be a catch.

"I won't tell the girls, don't worry." Those words stop Y/N from moving, turning to her new companion.

"We've all been tempted by the Dolan twins one way or another. My lips are sealed." The girl states and Y/N raises a brow.

"There's two of them?!" She exclaims, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh yeah! I had the Grayson bug, but he never dates anyone. We have a theory he's gay or he really does hate our sorority." She puts a hand to her mouth, whispering the last bit as if it's a top secret information meant to stay between her and Y/N.

"Well, this one certainly did a number on me." Y/N breaths out, smiling and shaking her head.

"I'm Perry!" She introduces herself, nudging Y/N to keep moving. "And we need to hurry to the house if you want to make the pledging on time."

Y/N rushed after the girl, wondering where she gets her energy from. She didn't even ask her name, almost like she already knew her. Which makes sense considering she's a legacy pledge, one that shouldn't even fret about her position but she does. She always worries about everything, it's just who she is.

I fraternized with the enemy, she thinks, praying it remains a secret.

Arriving at the house, Y/N halts her movements completely.

She looks at the large house, a mansion she's meant to enter, her entire body filling with panic whenever she makes a move forward. It's like a step forward, step back sort of a thing. She takes that step forward, prepared to take on the world and make her mum proud and then she remembers how she got this opportunity and returns to her original position.

She's ashamed, completely horrified by her actions. She's never been the type to thrive on nepotism. Y/N values hard work above all else, but ever since her mother died she allowed herself these small crimes. She hates it, but doesn't change her ways. It's not cheating if she's born with this right, is it?

Shaking her head at her own cowardly behavior, she lifts her chin up and purses her lips. Straightening her maroon colored leather jacket, she takes a deep breath and starts moving toward the building.

Just be yourself. Just walk in there and own it. Sure, this isn't on your own merit, but you deserve it. Just take a deep breath and go.

Her thoughts aren't helping, but she does find her steps are quicker and steadier. She feels her lips stretch into a pleased smile when she notices the door is already open, as if the building itself is welcoming her.

One step until she's inside, blissfully anxious and a puddle of nerves, when it happens.

BAM.

She stumbles back, holding onto her nose in shock. Her eyes water and lips part wide open as her knees bend to preserve what's left of her balance. The pain of walking straight into glass doors is nothing compared to the shame that washed over her. She's consumed in it, imagining how she'd have two vertical lines on her forehead and a blue coloring at the top of her head with her pupils being only dots in big white circles if this were a cartoon.

But it's not. Instead of that image, she got a bunch of frats walking out their house, laughing and pointing at her. She turns to them with a glare, finding a tall and rather buff guy standing on the porch of the house next door. He looks quite familiar with his lips quirked upwards. He's fighting a smile, one that she can't as she giggles awkwardly. She respects his attempt to stifle his laugh, but not the hand he used to send her a small, teasing wave.

"You alright there?" He asks, his voice dark and low, his tone cheerful.

Oh, he's enjoying this, she thinks.

She faces him, finding herself gobsmacked. Not only is he truly tall and burly with dark hair and a stubble, but he's also truly pretty with his earthly hues and pearly-white smile that serves as a stark contrast to his brown hair. She's always been a sucker for tall, dark and handsome men and so far, she's met two that fit that description perfectly. The first one turned out to be an enemy and considering where she's at, she had to assume this one could be too.

He's familiar somehow, though. Almost like he reminds her of Ethan.

Didn't Perry say Ethan had a twin?

"Yeah. Only bruised my ego." Y/N breathes out, keeping a nervous smile on her face as she squints to look at him better. Heat rushes to her face, turning her cheeks a deep pink in spite the layer of make up covering them.

"Don't worry. It's not the first time this has happened." He chuckles, leaning on the door frame and folds his arms over his chest.

"I'm hoping you'll get by without anymore incidents like this. Or should I keep a close eye on you? Just in case?" He smirks, watching her intently.

She's definitely blushing right now.

"I t-think I'm good." She stutters, mentally facepalming. She might not be the most confident person in the world, but she's not usually a stuttering mess. It's concerning considering she still has an entire night of sorority events to do.

"Well then, if you need me, just ask for a Grayson. I'll come runnin'." He turns around, glancing over his shoulder while he walks away.

Boy, does he look good walking away! Phew!

"Remember when I said Ethan had a twin?" Perry pops up again, a friend by her side.

She forces Y/N to stop staring at Grayson's ass and actually focus on the reason why she's here. She also reminds her of their conversation and her heart drops.

Not again.

"Did I just...Yeah." She turns toward the girls with a well rehearsed smile.

She looks to the other woman, no - girl. She has curly, shoulder length, rich brown hair which reflects a dark red under the light. Her eyes are almost grey - not a dull, unremarkable grey like that of concrete or stone. They are the grey of the last ashes on a fire, tossed up on the breeze; the grey of dove feathers, not the albino kind, but the ones with a hue so soft that they could have been pencil drawn. They had that look of birds flying on sunlit days, the shine and quick movement, yet relaxed, purposeful, at ease.

"Great! Then you know to stay away from them. I'm Sara Howell and I'm supposed to take you up to your room. Don't tell the other pledges you got one, though." She gives Y/N a kind smile, noticing the jitters she's drowning in. Once she comes closer, Y/N realizes she's about the same height as her, finally feeling like there are some normal sized people around campus for a change.

"Oh. So, um. How are they? Like, are they tough during pledges...Hazing a thing?" Y/N asks, rubbing her palms together slowly, putting more pressure on the part from where her fingers sprout.

Sara smiles, pursing her lips in thought before taking a step back and nodding her over to follow. Y/N spares a look, searching for a glimpse of either brother before walking after Sara, biting her lower lip. She can taste the lipstick on her tongue, knowing her teeth are doing damage to the carefully applied red colour Ethan almost smeared on his face.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs, giving Y/N a good look of her face that is freckled as stars in the night sky, which is a clear sign to take a step back. Personal space is important and she'd rather not make her uncomfortable. To be honest, Y/N feel uncomfortable too.

"Just a little info before we go up where the sisters are. Kappa Delta Rho are a big no no. They're not all bad, some are great. Like, Grayson. He is a little harder to work with and he always expects you to be on top of things if you're forced to do some events together. Ethan is a little more loose and fun to be around. He's also a big flirt and I'd suggest you give in only if you don't value your position here." Sara whispers the last bit, looking around to make sure no one heard them.

"Girls from our sorority slept with him?" Y/N prods deeper, furrowing her eyebrows. This sorority has a good name of keeping to their values, it's reputation indisputable. That's the main reason why Y/N's mother chose it.

Is it corrupt? Because girls can't keep their legs closed around frat guys?

Sara shushes her, using her right index finger as a signal for her to lean in.

"And once he's done, Grayson finds out and literally goes crazy. He was livid when he had to cut a few frats last year cause they slept with our girls who are no longer here. They were kicked out too. Ethan stayed because Grayson couldn't dump his brother. Grayson usually makes him do some embarrassing thing on campus and forgives him after." She explains in a hushed tone, kinking her eyebrow.

So, that’s what that awful song was. Ethan’s punishment.

"But Ethan's so hot, I'd literally give up this sorority in a heartbeat." She shrugs, walking up the stairs, leaving Y/N confused and stumbling up.

So, one twin is anal about everything and the other is a frolic with a mission to sleep with anything that moves which gets the first one pissed. Not the best combination, but a fair warning.

She reminds herself to thank Sara if this works out well for her.

Once they're up, Sara leads her to the bottom of the hall, opening a bedroom with a single bed. Those are extremely rare, usually reserved for THE sister and not a pledge. She lets Y/N in, stepping beside her, whispering.

"I'd let Grayson destroy me too if he wasn't so full of himself and actually spared anyone a second look."

To say Y/N's taken aback is an understatement, but she decides to roll with it. She's not susceptible to men's charms that easily.

Okay, maybe she's not immune, but she can behave.

I can!

The entire room is incredibly aesthetically pleasing. The walls are a golden yellow with several paintings giving it a wealthy vibe, the carpets are a gentle purple giving the room an open and airy look. The bed is unmade, her things stacked in boxes.

"I get a single bed room?" Y/N questions, frowning.

"You're a legacy. We don't get many legacies and so...special treatment. I'm not jealous." Sara sighs, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Maybe I am...Just a little bit." Sara chuckles, forcing a laugh from Y/N too.

"Get settled, relax and be ready in a white dress at the bottom of the stairs at 9 pm sharp." Leaving her alone in the room had Y/N jumping in her spot, overwhelmed with happiness. She does a happy dance, landing like a leaf with a sway on her bay window, looking out only to find someone's been watching.

Grayson.

He laughs, the sound of his booming voice reaching her easily through the open window and she glares at him, pouting.

He shakes his head in amusement, giving her that tiny, teasing wave once more.

"Hey there, clumsy. Fancy meeting you here." He shouts from his window and in panic, Y/N pulls down her curtains, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Staying away might be harder than I thought.

*        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *

Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart  @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @godlydolans   @fallinginlove-16  @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid  @dinnerwiththedolans

#ethan dolan #grayson dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins au #dolan twins greek god au #dolan twins fic #dolan twins fanfic #ethan dolan series #grayson dolan series

[thewritewolf]

Fictober Day 2 - People Like You Have No Imagination

This was originally just going to be the first scene, but then I got inspired and it ended up three times the size I had intended. Surprise? 

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

“People like you have no imagination!” Chat grumbled while crossing his arms.

“It’s a ridiculous plan! How do you even think we’ll get even half of these things?!”

Alya did not have as much patience as Ladybug did for their feline partner’s antics. While she and Chat Noir generally got along, there were times when he got weirdly insistent on a certain course of action. Almost every time, it involved Ladybug in some way. Probably not surprising, since the cat was clearly head over heels for their spotted leader and it was definitely funny up until he dragged the other members of the team into it.

“That’s where the imagination comes into play. Besides,” he added, “I have my means.”

Completely unwillingly, Alya added this clue to Chat’s identity to the back of her mind. Suit or no suit, she was still a reporter at heart and this was another indicator that Chat came from money.

“You know as well as I do that Ladybug doesn’t like being the center of attention any more than she needs to be. Throwing a lavish party for her will just make her uncomfortable.” She frowned as Chat deflated, sitting down on the edge of the building they were standing on. Her irritation with him evaporated in the face of him looking like a kicked kitten. With a sigh, she asked, “How do you even know her birthday anyway? She doesn’t like giving her personal details out like that.”

He smirked. “It isn’t really her birthday. I think. We just agreed to swap random dates in our birth month and treat it like our birthdays. And even that only happened because I kept bothering her for it.”

Sitting down next to him, she let the silence stretch between them. After a few minutes of staring out at the unfamiliar portion of their city - Chat wanted to be avoid their usual areas to prevent Ladybug from dropping in on them - she spoke.

“No way we can pull off what you were planning.” His ears drooped. “...but what about a little surprise party? I’m sure Carapace would be willing to set up some music.” It wouldn’t be hard to convince him. Nino had always felt like he owed Ladybug for choosing him to be a miraculous bearer.

Immediately, he was bubbling with energy again, tail swinging high in excitement. “I can cover the cake!”

“Which leaves me to set up the decorations at where ever the place is..” She stood up. “This ‘patrol’ has been fun, cat man, but I need to get to bed. See you later.”

--------------------------------------------

Adrien was well aware of how bad he was cooking. But he also didn’t want to simply do a store bought cake nor did he want to entrust what was supposed to be a labor of love with his personal cook. Without many other choices, he had to rely on outside assistance to help him. And who would be better than the amazingly talented and dependable Marinette Dupain-Cheng?

All in all, the process hadn’t taken that long - but it got stretched out a couple hours longer than it should have. Not that he minded, of course! He had stopped by unannounced. But he was out of options, and he figured that even if Marinette couldn’t help him, he could always swallow his pride and purchase something from her parents’ bakery. Fortunately, she was able to help him after she finished her sewing. Her eyes had widened at his request for a Ladybug-themed cake, but she threw herself into making it with all the gusto that he’d heard about. They even had the opportunity to play a few rounds of Mecha Strike while waiting on the it to finish baking.

He winced as he remembered how stiff and awkward she was when he had hugged her in appreciation for helping him. Did I overstep my boundaries? Hopefully she doesn’t go back to hating me because of this.

His worries about his fledgling friendship with Marinette had to be pushed aside as he reached the meeting point. Carapace and Rena Rouge were already there, both freezing when they heard the door opening but relaxing once they saw it was him, their eyes immediately drawn to the box he was carrying.

Grinning, he opened it to show it off to them. “Beautiful, isn’t it? My friend and I spent most of the afternoon working on it.”

“She’ll love it, I just know it.” Rena winked. “Much better than all that nonsense you were trying to convince me to do. Nice work.”

Adrien pouted. “No offense to Carapace, but I still think a live band would’ve really livened the place up. Plus, Ladybug deserves all the rose bouquets I can afford. And-”

Carapace held up a hand, shushing Adrien. He tilted his shield to show it’s interior, where a tracker on Ladybug’s position was revealed. “She’s almost hear du-, I mean Chat.”

“Places everyone!”

Suiting actions to words, Adrien darted behind some cover, closest to the door. The warehouse was kinda lacking in that regard, but they managed to make it work. After a couple minutes of waiting, the door creaked open and a familiar silhouette appeared. She paused uncertainly at the entrance.

“Hello…?”

They turned on the lights and shouted (roughly) at the same time, “Surprise!”

Or at least, that had been the plan. Instead - and Adrien wasn’t quite sure of all the details - Adrien ended up pinned to the floor with his arm twisted behind his back and Ladybug on top of him. It didn’t take long for her to realize her mistake.

“Chat!” She got up off of him. “I’m sorry, but you really should know better than to surprise me like that.”

Shooting a meaningful look at a smug Rena Rouge, Adrien replied, “Yeah, maybe. Anyway! Happy birthday, my lady.” He kissed her hand. “We’ve got music, and friends, and, of course, cake.”

She tilted her head to the side curiously at that last word. “...Really? Can I, uh, can I see it?”

Chuckling to himself, he said, “Sure! It’s over here.”

He wasn’t sure what she saw in that cake, but after a few minutes of staring where she stood stock still and wide eyed, she eventually turned to face him.

“Can I talk with you…” She glanced over at their two teammates, “...Chat?”

“Oookay. Sure.”

Once they were beyond the reach of listening ears, Ladybug began pacing in front of him. “Out of all the bakeries in Paris, you chose the Dupain-Chengs.”

Adrien shuffled in place. He got the feeling she disproved, which irritated him. After all, who didn’t like the Dupain-Chengs, Marinette especially. “They are the best, my lady.” His eyes widened in realization. “Wait. How did you know where it came from? The box doesn’t have any markings, I made sure of that.”

For one of the first times since their very first akuma, Ladybug actually looked nervous and struggled to meet his eyes. “Well, I… I, uh, helped you… make the cake.”

His face screwed up in disbelief. “No, it was just me and…” He trailed off and everything clicked. It was as if a fog lifted, letting him see his lady in an all new light. Stepping forward as she took a nervous step back, he brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. “...Marinette.”

“H-hey, Adrien.” She smiled anxiously.

Returning her smile with a more confident one, he rested his forehead against hers. He could hear her breath hitch as he leaned in.

“Happy birthday, Marinette,” he said just before their lips met.

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #ladynoir #fictober #rena rouge

[a-k-a-ruenis]

Rain

Rating; General Audiences

Fandom; Aldnoah.Zero

Part 3/?

Story under the cut!

Alternatively, please click here to read it on my Ao3!

When Inaho finds the blond standing at the school gate completely soaked, he is alarmed. But then when he approaches Slaine slowly, and extends his umbrella, he finds that Slaine is perfectly fine, if only soaked. “Slaine, why are you standing out in the rain?” he asks, looking agitated now.

I thought you were..

“I'm waiting,” Slaine says easily, cocking his head in confusion at that new look on Inaho's features. “Her meeting should be finished soon.”

“You could have waited under the awning at the front entrance,” Inaho points out, glancing downward a bit when he sees Slaine adjust his bag.

The blond has a black shirt under his uniform, and it is sticking to him like glue.

He must've been waiting out here for at least an hour.. Inaho realises, sighing quietly. “Let me take you home.” He adjusts the umbrella again, so that it is covering both of them as they stand side-by-side now, shoulders somewhat touching. Only Inaho's shoes and the hems of his pants are drenched, thanks to the slowly rising water level and the puddles spread about.

“Ah, no, that isn't necessary,” Slaine says, shaking his head, “She'll be out soon.”

“I meant my home. You need to take a warm bath and get changed before you catch a cold.”

Slaine blinks at that, shock flickering across his features. “Are you serious?”

“You said, 'ask me next month',” Inaho points out innocently, “It's been a month.”

Groaning inwardly, Slaine's gaze flickers toward the school, where most of the windows are still lit and a few students are visible wandering the halls.

“You know her club meetings run long. And today, I heard they would be staying for a bit longer to assist some other clubs with their activities and cleaning up,” Inaho says softly, gesturing to the sidewalk in front of them, “Let me walk you home. I'll give you a change of clothes and then Yuki-nee can drive you home once she gets home. I won't ask you to stay any longer than that. Is that acceptable?”

Slaine sighs, and nods just once. “I didn't think the first time I'd actually go to your house would be during a storm.”

“Stay here. I'll go get you a towel,” Inaho says when they finally get inside, after he removes his shoes. He hangs the umbrella on a silver hook on the wall, a bucket already under it to catch the water, and sets his bag down on a small table before walking away.

It took a bit longer to get home than usual, no thanks to the puddles they had to avoid and the cars that would occasionally almost drench them when they sped past.

Slaine only nods at that and starts removing his socks and shoes; he has a Western styled apartment, but he does know most of the rules and etiquette regarding Japanese homes. Inaho might not show it, but he would probably be upset if he walked around the house tracking water everywhere. He takes the chance to look around, listening to the sound of rain outside and the quiet drops of his own hair dripping water onto the mat under his feet.

Inaho's home is.. surprisingly normal. Probably thanks to that sister of his, whom Inaho only speaks about in the best of terms. He has only met Yuki a few times, after school, and despite being overly energetic, she seems nice, Slaine supposes.

There are not very many pictures hanging or sitting around, and the few that are visible are of only scenery. No people. More than a few candles sit upon what tables Slaine can spot, all of different colour, and he assumes scent as well. Thankfully, they are not lit. Other than the candles, there does not seem to be much else littering the house. The floor is clean, spotless, even. It must have been cleaned recently.

Before Slaine can peer into the living room, Inaho returns, a large, white towel in hand as promised.

“Thank you,” Slaine murmurs, taking it and immediately starting to dry himself off.

“Thank you for removing your shoes,” Inaho says, seeming pleased. He watches quietly as Slaine dries himself off as best he can, and then gestures behind him, “The bathroom is straight down the hall, the last door on the left. If you call for me when you're done undressing, I'll put your clothes in the dryer, and bring you a new set.”

Slaine visibly tenses, frowning at that. “Erm..what about.. my erm, my undergarments? You can't..” His face goes red in a mixture of embarrassment and fluster, and he presses the towel to his cheek, as if attempting to cool it back down.

“I know I can't share those. I understand the health risks. I'll bring you yours as soon as they're done drying. They should dry faster than your actual clothing.”

Slaine nods somewhat, cheeks still red. “Thank you..” he mumbles, looking sort of relieved now, “I.. erm.. thank you..”

Inaho presses the buttons on the dryer, listening to it beep quietly as he adjusts the settings.

High temperature. Most dry.. half an hour.

He raises his head when he hears the water turn on, and turns the dryer on before walking away.

Slaine should be done by the time the clothes are done drying.

Hopefully.

When Inaho hears the water turn off, he sets his magazine down and gets up from the kitchen table, quietly making his way toward the bathroom. He had chosen some clothing that he assumed might fit the blond, and had folded it and left it on the floor beside the bathroom door. He picks them up and knocks at the door, “Slaine?”

“Ina-..”

They both freeze when Inaho opens the door a bit sooner than he should have.

Inaho's gaze immediately slips to Slaine's chest, the only thing out of place with his otherwise fine body. “Oh,” is all he can manage, the gasp slipping out with a shaky exhale.

Scars mar his skin, long scars that cannot in no way be possibly self-inflicted. His arms look fine, the scars only seeming to mar his..

“Oh,” Inaho breathes, gaze flickering to the mirror.

His back, too. Marred with long scars, pink and brown mixing with what should be only white. The pink scars look less agitated, and are shorter than the lighter brown ones that sink into Slaine's skin. They are also in greater number than the brown ones; there are more pink scars on his back than his chest. They do not look new, none of them, but that just means..

“Sl.. Slaine..?” Inaho asks, his voice coming out far softer than he had intended; he had meant to stay composed, stoic.

Slaine slowly starts to regain his composure and starts to shake his head, taking a clumsy step backward. “D.. don't,” he whispers, his own voice shaky, bottom lip trembling.

Inaho does not realise the clothes have slipped from his hand when he places it on the door frame, his attention focused on the blond. “Who did that..–” he starts to ask.

“Get out,” Slaine hisses, voice practically seething with disgust.

The emotion does not register.

“Slaine, who did that to..–”

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!!” Slaine yells, shoving himself against the door.

It slams, loudly, and he hears Inaho stumble in the hallway on the other side, body hitting what he guesses is the wall.

He falls down himself seconds later, melting into a fetal position, towel too tight on his waist, too loose at his knees when he pulls them against his chest, head already starting to ache because it hit the door far too roughly.

I can't see..

Seconds later, he finds tears slipping from his eyes, too hot, too salty on his lips.

It stings.

“A-ah..” The exhale is shaky, weak, and –

Why?

Inaho sits on the floor, brown eyes wide as he clasps a hand to his head.

He realises that emotion from before had been 'self-loathing'.

Inaho is silent when Slaine finally comes out of the bathroom after a near hour, dressed in the clothing Inaho had dropped in the bathroom on accident: a large sweater and some baggy pants Calm had bought for him last year. Inaho is sitting in the living room on the floor, his back pressed against the sofa's side. He keeps his head down as Slaine approaches him, gazing pointedly at the magazine in his hands.

Slaine stops just a foot from the brunet.

“I want to go home.”

“My sister will..–”

“I want to go home now,” Slaine interrupts, voice forceful, laced with that same self-loathing from before.

Inaho raises his head, then.

And finds himself near speechless at the hurt, guilty expression on Slaine's features. Slaine's teal eyes are rimmed red and puffy and are still full of tears. Even his lips look irritated, bothered by the salty tears and Slaine's repeated failure to wear chapstick.

That expression doesn't suit him at all.

Standing up slowly, Inaho sets the magazine down on the sofa's arm and gazes at the blond, his own expression hard to read.

“I want to go home,” Slaine repeats for a third time, his voice shaky now, weak, “Please.”

Inaho stays quiet for just a moment more, realising that Slaine will not react violently if he does not push him. So.. rather than pushing him.. Shoulders dropping, Inaho relaxes his body, brown flickering between teal and the kitchen. “Instead of me walking you home right now..” he says, keeping his own tone low and as gentle as he can manage, “.. I will be completely silent and ask nothing if you just stay here until Yuki-nee gets home. And then she will take you home.”

Slaine visibly hesitates at the offer, gaze slipping to the floor.

Inaho's gaze slips too, but to Slaine's hands instead, which are balled up into tight fists. His nails are probably digging into his palm, another tactic to keep the tears in his eyes from slipping.

As he is right now, he won't calm down..

“I have a slice of cake in the fridge – chocolate cake, with whipped cream and chocolate frosting. And I have vanilla ice cream that you can add to it, if you'd like. You can eat that while we watch the science channel. Apparently, they're going to run some specials explaining how stars are born and such,” Inaho offers, voice still low and gentle. He gestures to the sofa, “I'll turn it on for you.”

He hears Slaine exhale shakily, and slowly raises his gaze to find tears slipping from the blond's eyes.

“Okay,” Slaine whispers, nodding just once, “Okay.”

And suddenly, 'okay' seems like the best word in the world.

“.. full term is 'pulsating radio star'. A pulsar is a star that emits electromagnetic radiation in the form of a beam, and is highly magnetized. Some of these stars have a wind that surrounds them; the wind is made up of charged particles, usually left over from supernovas..”

Inaho sits silently beside the blond, hugging a pillow loosely to his chest. He has barely moved, in an attempt to keep from startling Slaine or upsetting him, and has not uttered a word, as per his promise.

Slaine has calmed down considerably, having finished his cake a half an hour ago. Now, he is leaning somewhat against the brunet, looking exhausted. His teal eyes are only half-open, and he cannot pay proper attention to the TV.

The brunet allows his gaze to slip downward, and finds Slaine on the verge of falling asleep. Crying must be tiring.. he figures, glad that Slaine has finally managed to calm down.

“Pulsar stars are formed when a star's core is compressed during the event of a supernova, collapsing the star into a neutron star..”

“.. do you.. think they're.. they're pretty..?”

Slaine's soft, barely audible voice catches Inaho off guard; the brunet finds himself tensing up, though seemingly not enough to cause Slaine to pull away from him.

“The stars.. do you think.. that they're nice to.. to look at?” Slaine asks again, voice still soft, albeit a bit slurred and slow.

Inaho hesitates, wondering if Slaine wants him to answer, or if he is just asking rhetorically.

“I think.. they're beautiful.. They shine, and..”

It was rhetorical.

“.. they're.. really..”

Slaine's voice trails off, slurring as he eventually goes silent. His breathing slowly evens out, and his weight against Inaho's shoulder increases; he has fallen asleep.

The brunet waits for a few minutes before adjusting himself, not having realised Slaine is heavier than he looks; he gently places a pillow between them, and hopes that his left side will not fall asleep with Slaine's full weight now against him. His gaze flickers downward slightly, and he finds himself wondering if the puffiness and redness in Slaine's eyes will disappear tomorrow, if his swollen lips and cheeks will return to normal.

That expression really didn't suit him.

Shutting the door softly behind herself, Yuki immediately starts to remove her shoes and sets them down beside another two pairs resting on a towel –

Two pairs? Nao doesn't have two pairs, she realises after a second, gazing at the other pair of shoes. They look a bit newer, and given Inaho has not grown recently, he has not gotten another school pair himself in a year. A guest, then, she thinks, Nao must have a guest.. but he didn't say anything.. She slips on a pair of slippers, ears picking up the somewhat quiet sounds of the television. Walking toward it, Yuki finds Inaho sitting on the sofa, though in a different position than normal. He is off centre, and the pillow that usually sits near the armrest is gone. She approaches the sofa quietly, stopping once she sees that Slaine is lying down, using Inaho's side as a pillow. He has an orange blanket over him, and appears oddly at ease.

“I'm home,” she says after a moment, realising they did not hear her enter.

Slaine tenses up while Inaho raises his head.

“Welcome home,” Inaho says quietly, voice still as quiet as it had been before.

“I didn't know we had a guest,” Yuki says, smiling somewhat at the two. Inaho talks about Slaine often enough for her to gather that the blond is quiet, intelligent, and has a sweet tooth. Other than that, she knows he is a foreigner just by his looks, and that he is adept at Japanese; she heard him speaking once to Nina and Inko, and he seemed to have no issues keeping up.

Sitting up slowly, Slaine turns his head to look at her, and freezes up once more.

Yuki is wearing a police officer's uniform; gun, baton, badge, talkie and all. Her hair is hidden by her hat, which is covered in small water droplets, though her shirt and vest seem to be safe from water.

Inaho stays quiet, gaze flickering between the two. He looks surprised, he muses, setting the pillow Slaine had been using back into its normal position against the armrest, I guess I forgot to mention her occupation.

Slaine looks away after a moment, settling his eyes on the small table in front of the sofa.

“.. Yuki-nee,” Inaho finally says, “Will you drive Slaine home?”

“Sure,” Yuki agrees easily, “I'll get changed and we can go.”

“Your bag,” Inaho offers softly when Slaine approaches the entrance to his apartment building. He holds it out, having kept it beside him in the car, and watches as Slaine carefully takes it from him.

It has finally stopped raining; the faint sounds of water dripping from the apartment's awning keep it from being silent, as well as the calls of owls and chirps of crickets. The sky is still dark, however, muddied with dark clouds that seem heavy with more rain; the moon is hidden from view.

Slaine starts to dig though his bag, seemingly searching for something. He has not said a word since waking up a few hours ago; it seems that though he has calmed down since then, he is still in shock. Still, he has not yet gone inside, and has not asked Inaho to leave yet.

“.. I think they're beautiful,” Inaho murmurs after a minute, watching Slaine tense up as he pulls something out of the bag: a key.

“Wh.. what is?” Slaine asks, gripping the tiny silver thing probably a bit more than he should; the brunet's sudden comment startled him. He freezes upon Inaho only offering him a gentle, patient smile, his throat going dry. “What is?” he repeats, voice a bit uneven.

Inaho shakes his head slightly, refusing to elaborate.

Slaine's mind drifts to earlier, when he had been half-asleep. He had been asking Inaho about the stars.. right? His memory is foggy, but he thinks he must have been talking about them, since they were watching the science channel. The stars? he wonders, Is he talking about the stars? He pushes the thoughts away for now, stepping closer to the door. “About.. today..” he says, sounding unsure of himself, “What happened..–”

“Is my fault and it will never happen again,” Inaho whispers, causing the blond to gaze at him in surprise, teal eyes wide. “I should have knocked,” he admits, still calm, though his voice is laced with underlying guilt, “I won't ask. And you don't have to tell. I won't discuss the matter any further if you don't want to.” He pauses, brown eyes flickering between Slaine's bag and the apartment building. “I understand you have things you don't want to talk about. I will not say anything to anyone. But.. if you ever need someone to talk to, then..” He trails off, gesturing to the car.

You're welcome anytime.

Slaine exhales, and again it is shaky and weak, but this time, is full of relief. He smiles as best he can, eyes filling with tears. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Inaho only nods and politely waves. “Goodnight, Slaine.”

Slaine turns to the door and starts to pull it open, the key to his room still in hand.

“I think they're beautiful,” Inaho repeats, causing Slaine to turn and look at him. Once more, he has that patient, gentle smile on his lips. A rare smile. “And I'm not talking about the stars.”

#aldnoah.zero #az #kaizuka inaho #slaine troyard #fanfiction #ruenis' work

[starlingsrps]

isla pierce character development

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: isla nadine pierce

Nickname: [stares blankly]

Birthday: august 19

Age: thirty two

Gender: female

Place of birth: london

Places lived since: nowhere but london and new york - isla is a cities kind of girl and doesn't understand why anyone would ever want to live anywhere else.

Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: joss and charlotte pierce - music producer and former pop star respectively. don't worry. you haven't heard of her.

Number of siblings: one younger sister, clementine. clementine is perfect and tall and a model and isla could punch her if she didn't have to reach so high.

Relationship with family: tense but friendly? like isla is perfectly happy to have an ocean seperating them but her mother would much rather if she were closer. isla prefers a bit of distance and her annual week at home for christmas. when they come to see her in new york, she needs at least three days to recover.

Children of her own?: sweet jesus no.

PHYSICAL

Height: 5'3

Build: petite and curvy in a family of the tall and slim.

Disabilities: none really

Complexion: fair and freckled

Face shape: heart shaped

Distinguishing facial features: a sharp, stubborn chin and big eyes.

Hair color: blonde

Usual hair style: chin length and artfully touseled. it takes /time/ to make it the right sort of messy ya dig?

Eye color: blue

Glasses? Contacts?: contacts

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): while isla is stylish, she's not super trendy. make no mistake: she's been a fashion victim in the past. but she's settled into a style now that she's older and she'll adopt in a trend or something every ~season and she genuinely loves fashion. it's just that she knows she's too old for tattoo chokers and feels bad about her upper arms so cold shoulder tops are out. for the most part, she'll wear whatever she feels like but errs on the side of basics for work and vintage for funsies.

Typical style of shoes: heels 75% of the time.

Grooming: it's not out of vanity that she spends an hour on hair and makeup every day - it's that her coworkers can spy a stray eyebrow hair at ten yards. isla's hair and makeup is always done and she's big into skincare, with a mask for every night of the week. she can't go out - her skincare routine takes like two hours.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: tasteful jewelry, pierced ears, and no tattoos.

Accent?: crisp and british and a little on the posh side of things.

Athletic?: whatever workout is currently the hippest, she'll do it but she won't necessarily enjoy it. so yeah, isla is doing pure barre right now but it sucksssss.

INTELLECT

Level of education: a degree from central saint martin's - she wanted to be a designer but started working in journalism and never quite got past doodling her first collection.

Level of self esteem: fair to scum of the earth. she's good at faking it and really has to for work but she's got a hell of a case of imposter syndrom.

Gifts/talents: she has a really good eye for style and aesthetics in general so there's work related talents. isla is actually a total sweetheart underneath her fashionista garb - she's soft when it comes to people. she isn't just mom friend, she's grandma friend. she brings a sweater everywhere and doesn't miss masterpiece theatre if she can help it.

Shortcomings: isla can be hot tempered and quick to make judgments about people and things. when she changes her mind, it's with a great amount of chagrin - ask isla about the uggs she wears around her apartment and her long ago vow to never own a pair and she'll pretend she didn't hear the question.

Style of speech: slow and careful

Artistic?: oh yes.

Mathematical?: not especially

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: emotions

Neuroses: when isla is sad, isla goes to sephora or buys new shoes. isla has a lot of skincare products and a lot of shoes.

Life philosophy: don't let anyone with bad eyebrows tell you shit about life.

Religious stance: ehhhh

Cautious or daring?: cautious

Most sensitive about/vulnerable to:

Optimist or pessimist?: pessimist

Extrovert or introvert?: introvert

Level of comfort with technology: comfortable but liable to threaten to throw her laptop if it freezes.

RELATIONSHIPS

Current marital/relationship status: hella single

Sexual orientation: heterosexual

Past relationships: "you know how picky i am about my shoes and they only go on my feet."

Primary reason for being broken up with: being too boring or taking things too seriously

Primary reasons for breaking up with people: taking it too seriously.

A social person?: if she has to be

Most comfortable around: [crickets]

Oldest friend: ugh, clementine. even if she wants to throw clementine in a river, she's still her oldest and best friend.

How does she think others perceive her?: hopefully as a polite, hardworker and a good journalist.

How do others actually perceive her?: as a good journalist but more than a little intense.

VOCATION

Profession: fashion editor

Past occupations: intern, editorial assistant.

Attitude towards current job: it's the dream

Attitude towards current coworkers, bosses, employees: she gets along wit everyone for the most part but she's acutely aware that it's a competitive industry and everyone here is gunning for each other.

Salary: ample plus trust fund so isla's set.

SECRETS

Phobias: being hit by a bike messenger.

Dreams: editor in chief of vogue but pls.

Greatest fears: something terrible happening to anyone in her family and not being able to get there in time.

Most ashamed of: sometimes the other moms make her feel like she should be more educated or brighter and she knows that it doesn't matter and /yet/.

Hobbies: sketching, walking, and stress baking.

Secret skills: she likes to go to the met when she has free time and sketch.

Past sexual transgressions: nah.

Crimes committed: nah

What she most wants to change about her current life: she's angling for a promotion right now that she'd really like but she could also go for a boyfriend. or a second cat. she hasn't decided yet.

What she most wants to change about her physical appearance: TALLER. PLEASE GOD MAKE HER TALLER.

DETAILS/QUIRKS

Daily routine: dragged to pure barre by a coworker at the crack of dawn, home to get ready for work, work, home for downton abbey rewatch and skincare. out if she's forced by SOMEONE.

Night owl or early bird?: early bird

Light or heavy sleeper?: heavy

Favorite food: avocados

Favorite book: and then there were none by agatha christie. anything by agatha christie really.

Favorite movie: anything with great costuming but she's particularly fond of breakfast at tiffany's. CALL HER BASIC SHE KNOWS.

Favorite song: "your song" by elton john

Coffee or tea?: tea

Type of car she drives: isla should never be allowed behind the wheel of a car ever.

Lefty or righty?: righty

Favorite color: rose gold

Cusser?: yes lord yes

Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: #winegrandma

Pets?: a cat named belinda

#c: isla pierce