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quickspinner · 2 years

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Guard My Heart - Ch 3 Your Heart is Glowing

With the end of Indelible in sight (if not exactly *near*) I've been putting more thought to this one. Thanks to @fan-written for sewing insight when I needed it and to @mintaka14 for beta reading for me so this chapter could still be mostly a surprise for @livrever, who's my usual beta. Surprise! (ish) 😁

Just a reminder, this fic was planned before Season 4 was released, so pretend everything past Season 3 doesn't exist, because I'm totally ignoring it for the purposes of this fic.

Gotta admit I'm eyeing that chapter count like hmmmmmm so fair warning, we may be looking at more in the 7-10 range (please please let it be under 10).

Also for those who have never worked in retail, POS in this context means "point of sale" not...that other thing. 😁

Marinette did not look like death, she decided as she examined herself in her own three-way mirror. Her suit was perfectly tailored, black with pink accents to coordinate with, but also contrast, the shop’s color scheme. She’d opted for slacks instead of a skirt so that she could crouch down and pin hems if needed, but they were perfectly fitted while still allowing her the range of motion she needed to work. The jacket was a flattering cut on her, the ruffles of her white blouse peeked out of the sleeves and collar, and her hair was done up in a chignon with some artful tendrils curling down around her neck. Her makeup was subtle but perfectly applied. Kaalki had painted her nails with a pretty base color of pink, and Wayzz had carefully, meticulously added tiny Chinese characters for luck and harmony in black, one on each pinky finger.

“You look perfect, Marinette,” Tikki assured her, peeping out from her pocket.

“I’m so nervous,” Marinette sighed, stepping carefully down from the platform and into the customized, well-padded low heels she had chosen for today. She’d worked hard to make sure they were comfortable, knowing how much she’d be on her feet today.

“It’s going to be okay,” Pollen assured her from the other pocket. “You’ve worked so hard!”

“And your parents have been promoting the shop for weeks,” Tikki added.

“The management company did a great job with the advertising too,” Marinette agreed, walking to her front door, which was no longer covered in paper. She peeked out at the grandstand set up in the square beyond Luka’s shop. “They hired a band and everything. Luka knows them and he said they’re really good ‘for a pop cover band.’”

“Speaking of Luka,” Tikki giggled, poking Marinette’s side and pointing through the window. “He’s coming this way.”

“He—oh!” Marinette grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, stepping aside as she did so. She had no idea how he’d been intending to get the door open himself, since he had a to-go cup of coffee from one of the other shops in the row in each hand.

“Good morning, Luka,” Marinette giggled as he came inside. He was dressed much the same as he did every day, except that his hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and maybe even gelled to keep the sides smooth, and his clothes, while casual, were less faded and ragged than his usual choices. He came in with a self-conscious smile.

“I figured we could both use a pick me up,” he said as he stepped aside so that she could let the door fall closed. “I don’t know about you but I’m nervous as—” He paused when he turned toward her, jaw dropping. “Wow,” he muttered. “You look amazing.”

Marinette smiled at him, doing a little turn to show off her outfit. “Thank you. No better way to feel confident than to look your best, right?”

Luka held out the cup of coffee in his hand. “I’m almost afraid to give you this now. Everything in here looks so fancy and pristine.”

Marinette took the coffee, giggling. “Catch me at the end of the day, barefoot with my hair flying everywhere and wrinkles in my suit.”

His gaze zeroed in on her then, direct and intense, and Marinette’s pulse sped up. “I absolutely will,” he grinned, and with a clear effort, looked away. “I definitely want to hear how the first day went and I’ll probably be glad to have someone to freak out to.”

“As if you ever freak out,” Marinette scoffed, and Luka snorted softly.

“You’d be surprised,” he said, shoulders slumping just slightly. “It may not look like most people’s freakout, but I definitely have them. Maybe I should have followed your example and dressed up, because I feel like I swallowed fifty akumas and they’re all crashing into each other in my stomach.” He sighed. “It’s like getting ready to go onstage with Jagged, only worse, because I’ve never done this before.”

Marinette giggled at the mental image. “You look great, Luka, you’re just fine for the atmosphere you’re trying to create. Or rather, that you create without trying.” She tilted her head slightly as she regarded him more critically. “Although...come with me.”

She took his coffee from him and walked to the back of the shop, glancing back to make sure Luka was following her. She set both coffee cups on the counter before she pointed to the pedestal. “Up.”

“Okay,” Luka drawled, cocking an eyebrow before he took the step up. “Wow, this is humbling,” Luka muttered, staring at his full length, three-way reflection.

“Hush,” Marinette said, pulling open a drawer under the counter to pluck out some supplies. “Take off the hoodie for a minute.”

He did, dropping it off to one side, and then folded his arms over his chest, clearly feeling a little exposed. He eyed Marinette a little dubiously as she approached him with pins attached to a magnet on her wrist.

“Relax,” Marinette murmured as she tugged his arms down so the shirt would hang properly. “There’s nobody here but me, and I’m just going to make a couple of adjustments. You’ll be shocked what a little tailoring can do even for the simplest garments. I’m going to be touching you a lot, so tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable, okay?”

“Sure,” he breathed, hands flexing at his sides. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. Just stand there and think calm thoughts.” Marinette stepped up on the pedestal behind him. “If I just take in the sides and a little bit in the shoulders…” She moved around beside him, gathering the extra fabric and folding it at an angle with quick, practiced movements. She pinned one side, and then did the other, eyeing the tears in his shirt to make sure she wasn’t pulling them out of shape before she put in the pins. “How’s that? Still comfortable? Take a deep breath.” He did, and Marinette watched in the mirror the way his chest pressed against the shirt. Feeling a blush rise to her face, she unpinned and loosened the fold slightly on both sides, and had him do it again. “Okay, that looks good. This is totally the wrong way to go about this by the way, don’t tell anyone I did it. Normally I would be doing a bunch of measuring first, but we’re pressed for time, so this is going to be quick and dirty.”

Luka coughed, the tips of his ears turning red. “Quick and dirty can be fun,” he laughed into his hand, and Marinette slapped his back and pulled his arm back to his side.

“Pervert,” she muttered.

“You’re the one with your hands all over me,” he shot back, and Marinette turned red to her hairline. She was actually trying very hard not to think about the body underneath the shirt she was touching. Because she was a professional.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to let him tease her without getting him back, though. She cleared her throat and then put her hands on his shoulders, putting her chin just over his shoulder so she could look at him directly in the mirror.

“Take it off, Luka,” she told him, and Luka choked.

“Unfair,” he muttered, reaching for his collar.

“You started it. Watch the pins,” she warned him, reaching to hold the hem out away from him. Carefully they got the shirt off of him, and Marinette realized abruptly that she had not prepared for the three shirtless Lukas facing her in the mirror. “I’ll be right back,” she said quickly, and took the shirt and her suddenly flaming face to the back room, flipping it inside out as she went.

Checking the time, she worked quickly, laying the shirt out to mark her line.

“What are you going to do?” Luka asked behind her, and Marinette jumped.

“Luka!” she gasped, putting a hand on her heart. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not yet,” he grinned with a wink, folding his arms over his bare chest, and she squeaked indignantly.

“Luka,” she whined, throwing a scrap piece of fabric at him that didn’t get very far.

“Sorry,” Luka said, his shoulders curling slightly just like Juleka’s did. “Just nerves coming out, I guess. Anyway, I felt kind of weird standing there like this with all the windows, so…”

“Oh. Right. I should have thought of that and closed the curtain, I’m sorry.” Stupid. Ugh. Left him standing in the shop half-naked—okay stop thinking. “Do you care if I cut this?” she asked, turning to her serger.

“Anything you need to do, as long as I’m dressed when I walk out of here. I’d hate to start rumors.” Luka chuckled.

“I don’t remember you being such a flirt,” Marinette sighed, lining her marks up carefully and checking the machine settings. “Plug that iron in for me?” she nodded over at the iron already set up across the room.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not, I’m just—” He sighed, and reached back to tug on his ponytail. “Sorry.” He went to do as she asked, and Marinette took a breath and focused on what she was doing. She finished the quick seams, setting aside the excess fabric that the serger had cut. Then she took a breath and got up, facing Luka.

“No, I’m sorry,” she told him, pausing to look up and meet his eyes. “I just kind of waylaid you and dragged you into this and I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“No, it’s not that, I—” Luka sighed, as she turned back to the machine. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help. I really do.”

“It’s only a little thing, I know.” Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly. “But, well. It’ll help, I promise. Most people don’t realize what a difference a little tailoring can make, even on a simple t-shirt, and it’s so easy to do, and...well, like I said. If you’re comfortable and confident in how you look, you’ll feel better able to face whatever comes. It’s a basic tenet of my business and I really believe in it.” She gave him a smile over her shoulder as she took the shirt to the ironing board. “Trust me.”

He smiled back, trailing after her. “I do.” Then he chuckled as he watched her. “That shirt’s probably never been ironed since I bought it.”

“I kinda figured,” Marinette laughed, “but the seams won’t look right until they’re pressed.” Finished, she held the shirt at arm's length and looked it over carefully before nodding and turning to present it to Luka.

He pulled it back over his head, and Marinette helped him tug it down and settle it. Probably unnecessarily, but she was nervous now, and she couldn’t help fussing over him just a little. When it was on, she ran her hands across his shoulders and down his sides with a satisfied smile before tugging the hem one more time.

“Not bad for a rush job,” she smiled. “Come and see.” She dragged him back out to the mirror again. “I didn’t change much, just gave it more of a fitted shape for you. Not too tight, I don’t want to take away that relaxed air that you have—”

“I have an air?” Luka asked, expression amused as he stepped up on the platform.

“Yes,” Marinette told him insistently, reaching out to tug the hem of his shirt and smooth out the wrinkles. She put her hands on his hips and faced him to the mirror with a smile of pure pride.

“Wow,” Luka said, blinking at his reflection and turning a little. “That...does actually make a difference.”

Marinette giggled. “Consider it thanks for the coffee.”

“Aw man, the coffee,” Luka said, turning and hopping down to check the cups on the counter. “Still hot,” he smiled, and took a sip of his. “Good thing you work so fast.”

Marinette grinned, and picked up his hoodie from the edge of the pedestal before walking over to hand it to him and take back her own coffee. Rather than put it on, Luka looped the hoodie over his arm.

“I better get back over there and get down to business,” Luka sighed, and smiled at Marinette. “You do look amazing, and you’re absolutely going to kill it today.”

“So will you,” Marinette said, smiling back at him. “We’re going to make this work, Luka. Both of us.”

“Right,” Luka chuckled. “So—here’s to today, and I’ll see you at closing time.” He held out his coffee and Marinette clinked hers against it.

“Thanks for the coffee, Luka,” she said, and then impulsively, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good luck today.”

He moved before she pulled back and kissed her cheek as well. “You too.”

She got a lungful of his scent, morning fresh with cologne and aftershave, and coffee carried on his breath, and felt the warm brush of his face along hers, and if she hadn’t been holding the coffee, she might have done something stupid, like grabbing onto him to keep him close. As it was, he seemed to linger there by her cheek for a moment as he said, “Thanks for the pep talk. And the wardrobe upgrade.” Then he turned away from her and covered the distance to the door in long strides, gone so fast that she didn’t have to worry about schooling her expression or covering her reaction.

Marinette went back to the counter on shaking knees and set her coffee down before she dropped it. She leaned against the counter and tried to breathe. She was beginning to realize on a new level just how dangerous it was to have Luka next door. There had always been a certain amount of magnetism between them, but Luka had never affected her like that before...but then she was a grown woman now, and he was very much a grown man, and she really, really needed to be more careful, before she did anything stupid that might ruin their friendship for good. And that would definitely be awkward, considering they were neighbors and both too invested in their new shops to move now.

She couldn’t give him what he deserved, anyway. Better to keep her head in the game and try not to let Luka get too far under her skin. So she was attracted to her friend. No big deal. It didn’t have to be anything.

Marinette took a couple of deep breaths, and picked up her tablet, pulling up her schedule and to-do list. Work. She just needed to work. This was her big day and she was not going to lose her professionalism over a man, no matter how attractive he was. It wasn’t long until opening time now, and she intended to be ready.

“You’re going to do great, Marinette.” Pollen’s little voice made Marinette jump, and she looked down to see the kwami peeping out of her pocket. She smiled and nodded.

“First things first,” Marinette declared, swiping over her to-do list with more force than necessary. “Let’s get started.”

Everything else quickly fell away as she let herself get swept up in the whirlwind of prepping her shop. She made notes as she went through what she hoped would become her morning routine. It would probably take a few weeks to tweak the process until it was absolutely perfect. Marinette had done her best to be prepared the night before, so there wasn’t nearly as much to actually do as there was to check, double check, and fiddle with. The lights on her window displays went out unexpectedly and she spent an anxious half-hour searching for the problem. She breathed a sigh of relief when she got it working again, and then had to go fix her hair and run a lint roller over her suit to remove the evidence of her efforts.

Finally, it was time.

“Well,” Marinette said, tucking a hand in her pocket to run a finger over Tikki’s head. “Here goes nothing.” She walked to her door, opened it, and kicked down the doorstop to hold it open. “We are officially open for business,�� she breathed, flashing a welcoming smile to a couple of the people already strolling down the street. She glanced towards Luka’s shop door and saw him fixing his own doorstop. He took a deep breath, and then glanced up and met her gaze. Luka gave her a grin and a wink before disappearing back into his shop, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He really is nervous , she thought as she stepped back into her own space. She fidgeted one more time with one of the dresses on display in the window, making sure the hem was perfect, but mostly just trying to look like she wasn’t about to pounce on the first person who walked into her shop.

The first hour or two were a little awkward, and Marinette found herself wishing she had Luka’s gift for reading people. Was she being too attentive? Making anyone uncomfortable? She was well aware that she could be a bit much, and she was almost more terrified of overwhelming a prospective customer than neglecting them.

It got easier, though, as the morning went on, and the sidewalk outside began to fill up with people. Enough people were drifting in and out of the shop that Marinette couldn’t spend too much time with any one person if they didn’t actively want her help, and she began to settle into a more comfortable, professional rhythm.

Much like in the bakery, people tended to come in waves, and during one of the lull periods, a smiling blond appeared in Marinette’s doorway with a silver tray in her hands and an apron over her front. Marinette greeted her reflexively, though she obviously wasn’t a customer.

“Hello,” said the cheerful girl, carrying her tray towards the counter. “I’m Cherry, I own the cafe across the street. I just came to offer you a sandwich and maybe drop off a few of our cards if you’d be willing to put them out.”

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, and then smiled back. “Of course! I’m Marinette.”

“I know,” Cherry grinned, holding up her tray for Marinette to select a sandwich. There were several individually wrapped and labeled with the main ingredient. There was also a stack of business cards piled on one side of the tray, and Marinette took a small pile from the top along with her sandwich. “Luka told me I should come talk to you about designing t-shirts for the cafe.”

“O-oh, he did?” Of course he did, she thought as she arranged Cherry’s cards next to the register.

“He’s so cute,” Cherry sighed, swooning against the counter. “I chatted him up a bit when he came in to get coffee this morning. Doesn’t say much, but he seems like a real sweetheart.”

“He is,” Marinette agreed, hoping she wasn’t blushing as she picked a sandwich and set it behind the lip of the counter. “We’ve been friends for a long time, actually. So, you’re interested in a t-shirt design? It would probably be best if we set up an appointment so we don’t have to rush.”

“Yes,” Cherry said, looking around the shop, and she looked suddenly uneasy. “Though, I’m not sure this is quite the vibe we’re looking for…”

“That’s okay,” Marinette said cheerfully, pulling up her calendar on her tablet. “I can work with a lot of different styles. Why don’t we set up a consultation, and—” She picked up one of her monogrammed business cards and offered it to Cherry. “There’s a link here to my digital portfolio. Take a look at it before our appointment, and if you still feel we wouldn’t be a good fit, you can cancel the consultation, no hard feelings.”

“That sounds great,” Cherry nodded, relaxing a little. Marinette wasn’t especially worried. She had curated her shop carefully but t-shirt and logo design had been her bread and butter for years, helping to keep her afloat so that she could work on her more complex design work. Marinette filled out a customer profile for Cherry on the new system with her contact info.

“That should do it,” Marinette nodded, holding out her hand for Cherry to shake. “I’ll also stop by the shop sometime soon so I can get a feel for the kind of thing you might be looking for.” Marinette glanced at the wrapped sandwiches again and made a mental note to bring over a business card for the bakery as well. “Thank you so much for the food, I hadn’t even thought of eating.

“My pleasure,” Cherry hiked her tray up onto her hip and shook Marinette’s hand. “We’re all going to be seeing each other a lot around here, so we might as well get friendly with our neighbors, right?” She winked and nodded her head at the wall that adjoined Luka’s shop. “Especially the cute ones.” She giggled, took her tray in both hands again, and went out of Marinette’s door, turning in the direction of Luka’s.

She seems friendly, Marinette thought drily, and turned on the best smile she could manage for the next group that came in the door.

As it got closer to lunch time, the shop began to empty out. Marinette found a few moments to eat her sandwich in the back room. It was decent, she grudgingly admitted, but she was still going to pass on her parents’ info. Good bread made everything better, after all.

The shop was still empty when she stepped back out, and Marinette walked to the door to look around. The band was getting set up, and they’d probably start playing soon. There was a long line out of the cafe and several people were sitting at the little tables in the square. Maybe now would be a safe time to take a few minutes and check out the other business owners on the block. They were all in the same boat, more or less, and there might be opportunities for cross promotion that would benefit everyone.

She put up a sign on the shop to let customers know when she would return and set out to meet her neighbors. It was an eclectic set of little shops. There was a vintage book shop run by a spritely elderly lady with spikey, bright purple hair and a broad smile, and a pet boutique run by a shy young man who blushed and stammered when he greeted her. Two cheerful middle-aged men were in charge of an art collective selling painting, pottery, and other goods from local artists. Marinette spent more time there than she should have, there were so many interesting things to see! She reminded herself that she needed to be frugal for now but resolved to come by and pick up some special items for her apartment when she had money to spend on such things.

Marinette had to head back after that, unconsciously bouncing a little to the beat of the band playing in the square, but her step quickened as she realized someone was waiting outside of her door. “Hello, I’m so sorry,” she gushed as she walked up, and the tall girl in front of her turned and smiled. “Oh, it’s Marcie, right? Luka’s friend.”

Marcie ducked her head a little bit and grinned shyly. “Yeah. Luka said I should come check your stuff out. I’m not, um. I have trouble finding clothes sometimes? He said you could help.”

Tall, broad-shouldered, and buff, Marcie definitely wasn’t the target audience for standard fashion. Marinette, though, was excited at the prospect. “I can certainly do that,” she said crisply, unlocking the door.

As she was opening the door and kicking the doorstop into place, she heard a familiar name boomed through the grandstand mic. Startled, she looked over to see Luka climbing the stairs of the grandstand with a lopsided grin as the band’s lead singer/guitarist waved him on.

“Oh, he’s going to play?” Marcie said, having turned at the same time Marinette did. “Awesome.”

The man with the mic handed over his guitar to Luka and grabbed him by the shoulders, moving him over and positioning him in front of another mic despite Luka’s laughing protests. “All right folks, here’s your own Luka Couffaine, owner of the Second Chance antique store there on the corner. Thanks for humoring me, Luka. Love playing with this guy, seriously.”

Marinette covered a giggle with her hand. Luka looked so much more himself with the guitar slung across his shoulders, his hands confident and precise as he strummed the pick down the strings in a graceful motion. Marinette sighed unconsciously, watching the curve of his arm and the motion of his muscles. He put the pick in his teeth for a moment and paused to adjust the guitar strap and a tuning peg. He took the pick out of his mouth and licked his lips, his eyes flicking up to scan over the small crowd. He gave a quick smirk and then looked up at the rest of the band, waiting for the count.

Marinette's smile grew as she watched him play, feeling a surge of nostalgia and at the same time, a strange sense of disconnection between the boy she remembered and the man on stage. Her eyes widened slightly when he stepped up to the mic and began to sing a harmony with the vocalist. She’d never heard him sing before.

There was a cough by her elbow and Marinette jumped slightly. Marcie smiled down at her knowingly, and Marinette blushed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him play,” Marinette muttered, reaching up to smooth her hair.

“You two used to be a thing, right?” Marcie asked, and Marinette spluttered.

“No! No. I mean. There was a thing, but. We weren’t a thing. Things just, um. Never worked out that way.”

“Oh, I see,” Marcie said, nudging Marinette with her elbow. “A missed chance.”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping. “I hurt Luka very badly back then, I know I did, and...I don’t want to risk that again. This isn’t a good time for either of us, we both have so many things to focus on, and I...I’m not good at relationships. I don’t want to do that to Luka again.”

“Oh.” Marcie put her hand on Marinette’s arm. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease you about it, I promise.”

Marinette blinked, and then smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Marcie grinned, and for a while they stood watching Luka play and sing along with the band.

“He looks happy,” Marinette said, without realizing she’d spoken aloud.

“He really does,” Marcie agreed. “I’m glad. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him really happy. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I think touring with Jagged really shook him up and did a number on his confidence. I hope this new start will be good for him, and give him a chance to figure out what he really wants, you know?”

Marinette nodded, sighing softly. “It can be hard, figuring out our dreams don’t really match up to reality.”

The song ended and the crowd gathered around the square cheered. Luka waved his appreciation, and then laughed when the audience groaned as he took the guitar and handed it back to the lead singer. Luka just shook his head as his friend tried to persuade him to stay on stage, slapped the other man on the back, and descended the bandstand stairs. Marinette blinked as she recognized Cherry at the bottom, holding out a bottle of water to him. He grinned and accepted it, nodding at whatever she was saying before throwing his head back to drink.

“It’s a journey,” Marcie sighed, and Marinette had to think to remember what they were talking about. “You’ve gotta find a way to live that’s true to you and still lets you get by in the world.”

Cherry cocked a hip and tilted her head as Luka’s focus returned to her. Marinette rolled her eyes and tore her gaze away, facing Marcie so she didn’t have to see any more. “But here, we’re supposed to be talking about you,” she said, feeling a pang of guilt at being so distracted. “Please, come in, I’m sure I have some things that can work for you.”

Marcie was a fun and challenging client and exactly what Marinette needed to pull her back to reality. Her muscular build reminded Marinette of her old acquaintance Ondine, and Marinette had learned a lot from working with Ondine while she and Kim were dating. Marcie was a bit shy and self-conscious, not confident in her own taste, and it felt good to help her.

Money was an issue, of course. Marinette hated that Marcie and so many others had to spend so much money on clothes just because she fell outside of the traditional mold. Marinette did her best to keep her prices down, but there was only so much she could do without sacrificing quality or undervaluing her own time. Marcie couldn’t exactly afford to fill her closet with bespoke clothing, and buying off the rack wasn’t such a great experience for her either. Marinette put her mind to work, trying to figure out the best way for Marcie to get the most out of her money, and relished the challenge.

Because she couldn’t help herself, Marinette cut Marcie a deal on tailoring, rationalizing that Marcie would pretty much always need tailoring on her clothes and therefore it was actually good business to offer her a discount up front if it meant securing a long-term customer. Marcie left smiling, with one new outfit hanging in Marinette’s back room marked for tailoring, and an appointment for a consultation on altering some of Marcie’s current outfits.

Customers had started to pick up again for the afternoon, and Marinette was kept hopping until well after dark. When she finally closed the door at the end of the day, she had to laugh at the image in her mirror. She wasn’t barefoot yet, but her hair was falling down, her suit was wrinkled, and she looked just as tired as she had predicted. Even so, it had been a good, satisfying day, and Marinette was grinning as she closed out her POS system and did a little dance behind the counter. She went through her closing checklist, and dragged herself upstairs. She was starving , and though she was tired, she was still jazzed, and she had a sudden craving for something indulgent. Pancakes and bacon, she thought, as she kicked off her shoes at her door. The kwamis swarmed around her with congratulations and questions, and she laughed as she tossed her suit jacket over the back of her couch and went to get started on dinner.

She was frying the second pan of bacon when a sharp knock on the door made her jump. She glanced around as the kwamis quickly zipped into hiding, and then went to the door. She had to stand on her toes to look out the peephole, but once she saw the familiar figure outside she dropped back to her sock feet and undid the lock.

“Luka,” Marinette said as she opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, I just…” Luka seemed to hesitate, and then let out a gusty sigh and grinned at her. “I’ll be honest, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing and I’m starving. I came to beg.”

Marinette blinked at him, and then burst out laughing, stepping back to open the door. Luka slouched inside with his hands in his pockets, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“I’ll tell you what,” Marinette said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll feed you, and then you play for me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luka chuckled. “I would have done that for free though.”

Marinette looked over her shoulder and winked at him as she went back to the kitchen. “I would have fed you for free too. I don’t have a table, so belly up to the bar. I’m almost done.” She waved him toward the stools and went back to the kitchen. She saw Daizzi poking his head out of a cabinet to give her a mournful look and mouthed sorry at him. It was a little disturbing to her how much Daizzi loved bacon, but pigs were pigs.

She flipped the last of the pancakes and tipped the pan of bacon onto the plate, and then turned back to ask Luka a question that she immediately forgot as soon as she met his eyes. He blinked quickly and straightened a little.

“So how was your first day?” he asked before she could say anything. He looked down and traced the pattern of the corian with his index finger.

“What? Oh, busier than I expected,” she said, turning back to the stove with some confusion. “The promotion and the band and all the grand opening festivities really drew a crowd. Time will tell if any of the contacts I made are worth anything for the future, but it felt good to start with a bang. Yours?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Same,” he said, leaning his chin on his fist. “I was really freaked out at first about actually trying to sell stuff, but in the end it was really just a lot of talking to people, listening to their stories, and pointing them in the right direction now and then. I don’t love the bargaining but the rest of it went okay. Lots of tourists, so the small things moved pretty well. Everybody loved the turtle, by the way.” He grinned, and Marinette giggled. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

The kitchen was so narrow that Marinette doubted she could have shared space with even her mother without several full-body collisions, let alone someone of Luka’s height and armspan, but she tried not to smile as she declined. “I’m almost done anyway,” she said, and then frowned. “Maybe I should have made some eggs. Do you want eggs?”

“Don’t do anything extra for me,” Luka protested, and Marinette rolled her eyes, stepping to the fridge.

“Thanks for the coffee this morning,” Marinette said, as she opened the carton of eggs, trying to decide how many to make. “It was really sweet of you to think of me.”

“Well, you’ve always been my lucky charm,” Luka chuckled. “My life was brightest when you were in it. I’m happy to get you coffee if it means you’ll stick around.”

Marinette jolted, fumbling the egg carton. She managed to keep it from tipping and quickly set it on the counter. Taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on either side of it, closing stinging eyes.

Big hands closed on her shoulders in a tight squeeze, and then reached forward to wrap around her, pulling her back against Luka’s warm body. Marinette’s hand curled around his forearm on instinct and she hung her head.

“No,” he said quickly, voice low and urgent. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, Marinette, I swear. I’m sorry, I was thoughtless.”

Marinette opened her mouth and drew breath to tell him it was okay, but the breath hitched in her throat and escaped again as a sob. Luka reached around her to turn off the stove. His hands moved back to her shoulders, coaxing her to turn, and then guided her head to his shoulder as he swayed with her gently, making soothing noises.

Marinette pressed her face into his shoulder and gripped the back of his shirt, trying to keep back the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Luka sighed. “I’m still shit when it comes to saying what I mean. I just...I’m happy you’re in my life again, Marinette, and I hope you’re going to be here for a long time, but—but if you’re not...you need to be you, Marinette, and live your life the best you can. I’d never want to hold you back or, or stop you from doing that, I just…I’m so sorry for making you cry.” He pressed his face to her hair. “I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I swear I didn’t.”

Marinette took a shuddering breath against him. “Shut up,” she mumbled. “And go get your guitar.” She straightened up, and pushed him gently away. “I’ll be done cooking when you get back.”

He was still and silent for a long moment, as if he hadn’t understood her, but then he pulled back, hands finding her shoulders again to squeeze firmly. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, bending down slightly to look in her face, and then he practically ran out of the apartment.

Marinette turned back to the counter and buried her face in her hands for a moment. A fuzzy body collided with her fingers and she shifted to hold it against her cheek as Roarr nuzzled her. She heard the stove click back on, and knew Tikki and Daizzi were continuing her breakfast-for-dinner prep.

“Can I bite him?” Roarr growled, rubbing her face all over Marinette’s.

“It’s not his fault,” Marinette whispered. “He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t know, how could he?”

“Don’t care,” Roarr grumbled, and Marinette had to smile..

“I did leave him, emotionally, even if he’s the one who left physically. I was checked out before he left and he knows it. Of course he knows it. He just doesn’t know why, because—” She sighed, tired of the worn path in her mind. He didn’t know, because she couldn’t tell him, because—

Barkk landed on her shoulder with a little whimper and licked her cheek. “Don’t be sad, Marinette,” he said, and she reached up to scratch behind his ears as well. Marinette heard a few tentative notes from Luka’s guitar next door, tuning. She felt a twinge of guilt for breaking down on him like that.

“I’m all right,” she promised them, drying her eyes on her sleeves. “Okay, go hide before he comes back.” She gave both kwamis a little kiss and a pat before they sailed off, and gave a grateful smile to Tikki and Daizzi as she took back the pans. They each hugged her cheek, and went off to hide, just as Luka knocked and opened the door. He leaned in, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Are you sure you want me around?” he asked softly. “I can order in, or just take the food and go, if you’d rather—”

“No, no, please come in,” Marinette said, setting plates piled with pancakes on the breakfast bar. “I’ve made way too much to eat by myself, anyway.”

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” he joked as he set his guitar by the sofa and slid, tentatively, onto the barstool, like he was still afraid she might kick him out. Marinette laughed weakly and put the plate of bacon between their two plates. She couldn’t very well tell him she was cooking for herself plus a horde of tiny gods, but the look on his face probably would have been priceless.

She handed Luka the silverware and got out butter, syrup, and two glasses of milk before finally coming around the bar to sit down next to him.

“I’m really sorry I got so upset,” Marinette began, feeling she owed him an explanation. “It just...feels like I’m always leaving people. I get so busy and I overcommit and then people are upset, and I guess...I guess somewhere along the line it was easier to just...stop trying. I can’t expect other people to do all the work, you know? It’s better just to let them go. Maybe someday when—” when I don’t have to be Ladybug anymore “—when things are different, then I can have those kinds of friendships again. It just feels kind of impossible right now.”

“It’s not impossible,” Luka said gently, reaching over to lay a hand on her wrist. “Not at all.”

The look Marinette gave him must have been skeptical, because he smiled and withdrew his hand. “So my mom basically kicked me out of the house when Juleka turned eighteen and started modeling seriously,” he said, moving some bacon slices onto his plate as Marinette blinked at his abrupt change of topic. “It was pretty obvious that between university classes and her career, Jules wasn’t going to be back permanently any time soon, and Mom was just...ready to do her own thing again. I mean, she’s always done her own thing to an extent, but there were sacrifices she made to provide a minimal level of stability for me and Jules, and now she doesn’t need to anymore. So she told me I needed to find a place of my own, and almost before I knew it, I was couch surfing with friends and Juleka, and all our stuff was in storage. She traded the Liberty in on something a little more seaworthy. Now she’s living her best pirate life on the Liberty II and…” He gestured vaguely towards his apartment.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Marinette frowned, leaning her chin on one hand as she pushed her food around on her plate with the other.

Luka didn’t answer right away, tucking into his dinner before he answered. “It bothered me a little bit, that she didn’t give me much warning, but her leaving didn’t bother me.” He smiled gently at Marinette. “No matter where she goes, she’s still my mom, and she still loves me, and I still love her. Just because she’s not here right now, and we don’t talk every day, or even every week, doesn’t change that we love each other. Same with Jules. She’s got her own life now, and sometimes we go weeks without seeing each other. When we do, though, it’s no big deal. She’s still my sister. It’s like we were never apart.”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and looked down, only to look up again when Luka put his hand on her back.

“I know it sounds different, because we’re family,” Luka said, “but it’s not. There’s friendships that are like that, where you do your own thing until your lives intersect again, and then it’s like you were never apart. And then your roads part and you wave goodbye until the next time. Forget all this recordkeeping bullshit about who texted who last and how long it’s been and whether you remembered to send them a facebook message on their birthday, or how many invitations for drinks they’ve passed up and bailed on. There’s all kinds of friendship out there, Marinette. You’re not doomed to be alone and isolated forever, just because you’re talented and driven and career-oriented, and you know where you want to be in life.”

Almost. Almost, he understood, except he couldn’t, because she couldn’t tell him the real truth. She couldn’t tell him how it wore on her to lie to everyone in her life, or the way those lies created distance simply by virtue of existing—distance the other person could always sense but couldn’t understand. Just like now, in this conversation. She was holding back, and he knew it, and he didn’t get why. Right now, he thought it was a trust issue, that if they ever grew close enough, she would eventually open up and tell him what was really the matter, and that distance would be gone.

Except that would never happen, and he would get tired of waiting, and hurt that she still didn’t trust him, and he would eventually recede even further, and fade into yet another background character in her life, a polite acquaintance with a silent grudge she could never assuage.

It was nice that he was trying, though. She gave him a weak smile, and nodded, though she could feel her lower lip trembling.

Luka’s smile was sad, and he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek before he went back to his food. Eventually, Marinette’s hunger got the better of her melancholy mood, and she was able to enjoy the fluffy pancakes and the bacon she had been able to make just the way she liked it. Luka made a contented noise. “This is the thing I miss the most from the States,” he said, waving his fork at his plate. “I don’t know how they can eat this much heavy stuff for breakfast but for dinner?” He made a little moan and Marinette giggled. That gave her an opening to ask about his travels, and they made quiet, comfortable small talk until they were finished eating.

Luka gently insisted on helping her clean up, humming quietly as he stood beside her, drying the dishes that she handed him.

“All right,” she said, taking the dishtowel from him. “I’ve done my part. Time for you to pay up, sir.”

Luka chuckled. “Sure. Do you want to go change or anything?” He indicated the suit she was still wearing. “Not that you don’t look good, but—”

Marinette snorted and laughed, looking down at herself. “No, you’re right, I could definitely be more comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

She ended up just changing into her pajamas, a set that had a shirt that buttoned over the camisole so she didn’t feel too exposed, and by the time she came back out of her room, Luka was settled on the couch, fingers moving in slow, thoughtful motions over his guitar, just random chords as far as she could tell. His eyes were half closed, but as soon as she sat down on the other end of the couch and pulled her feet up under herself, he shifted into a gentle tune. Marinette folded her arms on the couch arm and rested her head on them, watching Luka play since he didn’t seem to be looking at her.

“Anything you want to hear?” he asked softly.

“Whatever you feel like playing,” she replied, and he nodded.

The music seemed to just wander for a moment, and then picked up into something she recognized. Luka didn’t sing, which she kind of regretted, having heard him earlier in the day. She’d like to hear him sing on his own, someday.

Snatches of the words played in her mind as she closed her eyes and listened.

…Just keep breathin and breathin’and breathin and breathin

… You remind me of a time when things weren’t so complicated…All I need is to see your face…

…Just keep breathin and breathin and breathin and breathin

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and blinked at Luka. He smiled at her.

“Maybe I should go. You look so tired.”

I am so tired.

“One more?” she asked, and he chuckled.

“Sure,” he said, still smiling, and turned back to his guitar.

Again the melody wandered for a moment, and then he settled into something soft that she didn’t recognize.

She opened her eyes for a moment when he began to sing, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Fare thee well, my own true love,” he sang, “Farewell for a while…I’m going away…but I’ll be by…though I go ten thousand miles…”

She let her eyes fall closed again…and when they opened, it was to the beep of her alarm, and the snores of the kwamis burrowed in the bed all around her. Marinette fumbled for the button on her alarm, and managed to turn it off. She lay blinking for a moment, trying to think. She vaguely remembered Luka’s soft voice, and his arm around her, supporting her as she zombie-walked to bed.

Marinette supposed she ought to be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Anything, or nothing, Luka had promised her long ago, and despite the way things had fallen apart between them, he’d offered her nothing but friendship and affection since they both moved in. No judgment, no hurt, no resentment. It couldn’t last, but it was nice while she had it. She closed her eyes and tried not to remember that eventually she would have to push him away.

“Marinette?” a squeaky voice asked, and she opened her eyes again to find Daizzi floating in front of her nose. “Is there any bacon left?” he wanted to know.

Songs:

Breathin by Ariana Grande, specifically this cover by Eddie van der Meer

10,000 Miles by Mary Chapin-Carpenter

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #pro lukamari

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morningsunstudio · 25 days

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Alfred Dunner Vintage blouse size 19 embroidered appliqué crinkle fabric artsy.

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theblueiron · 3 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Kathie Lee Button Down Blouse.

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nrpblousehub · 1 year

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Timeless Charm and Convenience: NRP's Readymade Sleeveless Saree Blouses

If you're looking for a readymade sleeveless saree blouse, NRP has got you covered. Their collection of readymade blouses is tailored to perfection. With a readymade sleeveless saree blouse, you can save time and effort, allowing you to focus on enjoying the occasion. NRP blouses near you offer a variety of designs and colors, ensuring you find the perfect match for your saree.

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regardingluxury · 2 years

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Winter Clothes, Jackets, Coats For Men

The Crofton Puffer is created from the brand's Recycled Feather-Light Ripstop Fabric and options an impressive 750-fill power using duck down. All Canada Goose jackets get a Thermal Experience Index ranking starting from TEI1 by way of TEI5. The Crofton Puffer has a TEI4 ranking, which means it is capable of enduring temperatures as low as -13°F and is hotter than a few of the model's most basic kinds.

The PACLITE® shell feels easy to contact however is sort of clearly sturdy and waterproof. It is comfortable to put on through a variety of activities. In reality, I assume you'd be hard-pressed to search out an activity that this won’t carry winter clothes for men out properly in. I discovered it great for hiking, daily chores, in the rain, the snow, and even on brighter, hotter days. Paired with a good mid-layer (like the ones here!), I suppose you could comfortably use this jacket on the slopes.

This is what I think to be the right Lean Wardrobe outfit. While I’m more casual nowadays, I nonetheless contemplate this as my base uniform and would wear this 99% of the time if I labored in a “business casual” environment. If you've thick, loose, and/or cumbersome pieces beneath layers that are slimmer, thinner, or extra lightweight… that may be actually uncomfortable. I even put on my darkish denim less, and as an alternative, swap them with my lightweight, stretch, light-wash denim. The solely dark colors I truly have during spring and summer are my olive and navy linen shirts. It still has the padded baffles of a puffer but features a modern and glossy silhouette.

The padded collar paired with a memory foam insole means you can count on all-day comfort. They did run slightly narrow, so if you’re on the cusp of two sizes, I would measure up. The sliver of blouse collar peeking out from the neckline of the crew neck sweater is a small detail that adds a touch of refinement to the look. Furthermore, the brilliant blue interior of the down jacket gives the impression of a nice pop of color without screaming too loudly.

While some individuals find merino wool itchy, going for premium merino wool in a finer gauge will normally solve this. If you’ve picked up a correct winter-weight button-down and pants, you’re probably not going to need to pile far more on. My recommendation is to stay to mostly neutral colors, then focus on the basic layering recipes.

Always put on the thinnest clothes closest to your body. The mannequin right here is sporting the same long-sleeve and is layered on the Better Than Down Vest from Public Rec. He’s using winter mens fashions with the light-to-dark rule, and since the vest is lightweight, he has room to add a bomber jacket on high if issues get colder.

There are numerous methods to work these patterns into your everyday wardrobe, but one of the easiest is in the medium of an overskirt or flannel shirt. Sperry’s Cold Bay Chelsea boots are created from molded rubber, so they’re puddle-proof. They’re additionally lined with microfleece for heat mens winter fashion and feature enhanced traction. Pull these on when you’re walking to work via the slush. Torrential downpours, face-shearing winds, bone-chilling cold—let scientifically superior clothes protect you from the elements and maintain you snug.

It’s no use trying fairly in your new winter outfit when the lack of comfort may prevent you from enjoying your journey. If there’s one quintessential piece in winter outfits for men, it’s the wear-with-everything longline coat. Whether it’s single-breasted or double-breasted, the knee-length fashion is a simple layer for athleisure-rich and soft-tailored outfits alike. You can also put on a longline coat on formal put on as nicely. It is often considered one of the best suggestions for winter formal put on. Introduce a pair of black leather-based informal boots to the combo to tug the whole getup collectively.

#winter outfits

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worldismyne · 2 years

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Almost Home Ch2

Summary: Harv takes shelter in a strange castle in the middle of the woods on his way back home. He only planned on staying one night. It’s just, there always seems to be a reason why it’d be a good idea to stay just one more night.

AU - Finn and Harv meet years after graduating.

Rating T

Pairing: Harv/Finn

Series: Warrior U

Ao3 link

Harv startled awake to the sound of knocking at the door. It took a minute for the disorientation to fade and for him to remember he was a guest in someone's home. He scrambled to move the dresser from the door and again for something to cover himself before his host entered the room. He opened the door with a blanket from the bed wrapped around him. It was hard to tell from inside the guest house, but it must have been midday.

"Here are your clothes." Finn said carefully as he tried not to stare at the blanket wrapped around Harv's waist. The torch light last night really hadn't done Finn any justice. He was a little younger than Harv in both the face and demeanor, now dressed in a rolling blouse of rich purple fabric. It was as if someone had sewn the night sky onto the tunic and hose with gemstones. "The sooner you're ready, the sooner you can pay off your debt." Finn's delivery was stilted and awkward. "It'll be hard work, but you'll have three square meals until you've completed it. So, no complaining." He hesitated a bit longer in the doorway before abruptly turning to leave. The garden had a table set up with tea and muffins protected by the eves of the house. It seemed Finn planned to wait for him there.

Harv changed into his old clothes, now soft and faintly perfumed. Some clumsy attempts had been made to mend the tears in his sleeve with a dark colored thread. The fur cloak would just get in the way of any manual work he'd have to do, so he left it folded on the bed. He braved cold air once more, now able to marvel at the vast garden lost under the snow and neglect. The rose trees that lined the walkway were the only plants still vibrant in spite of the frost, all towering overhead and overgrown. Finn had taken to writing something on a pad of paper as he ideally sipped at his tea.

"What did you want me to do?" Harv asked after clearing his throat. Finn looked over at a dull ax buried in a stump near the guest house.

"Firewood. I need at least 3 cords to make it through, that bit over there's the last of it." There was no way that was enough to heat a whole castle. Perhaps he was trying to save costs by only heating the rooms in use, but still, that was how much his family went through in one winter. Finn had gone to the trouble of setting out a plate for him; some weirdly shaped bread and sausage. Harv downed it within a few minutes much to Finn's surprise and he got to work.

Luckily for Harv the wood was soft and everything had already been gathered in one place. It was nice, straightforward, mindless labor. Though as the day crawled toward evening, he became more acutely aware that he was being watched. Of course, the second he looked over at the porch, Finn would conveniently be looking at his papers as if he'd been writing in them. Noblemen didn't typically spend hours outside to handle work matters, they had studies they'd steal away to. Instead, Finn remained rooted to the porch, only occasionally leaving to fetch something before returning to his spot to 'work'.

Finn was less discrete about it after Harv had discarded his shirt to keep the freshly cleaned tunic from getting soaked in sweat. The pen Finn had been using had completely rolled off the table and he couldn't easily pretend he knew which direction it had fallen when he had been openly staring. Harv chose to say nothing, not wanting to offend his host, but it was clear Finn hadn't written more than a page since being outside.

"What's next?" Harv asked after he buried the ax back in the stump, careful not to split it.

"Hunh?" Harv gestured to the neatly stacked face of wood.

"I finished chopping the wood?" Harv frowned. For someone who'd been watching him work, he seemed really slow on the realization the work was done.

"Already? You can't be-" Finn finally noticed everything had been cleared away. "It hasn't even been five hours?" How long exactly did Finn expect it to take? "Well, it's fairly late in the day, but at least have something to eat before you go."

"Go? Was that- Is that all you needed me to do?" That was just one chore, half the work had even been done for him.

"Yeah, well, not all of us can wield an ax like a-" He faltered, whatever analogy that came to mind no longer seemed appropriate. "I'm sure I could find something else for you to do if you insist, but this saved me a week's worth of work, so... thank you." Finn collected his things, face red from the chill. He glanced over his shoulder at Harv standing in the yard. "Are you coming inside?" If he wanted to make good use of the daylight he should leave, lest he risk overstaying his welcome. But after manual labor in the snow, a hot meal sounded amazing. There was no guarantee when he'd get to have one again after he left.

Harv followed Finn inside against his better judgment.

-v-

The inside of the castle was devoid of life. Dust covered tapestries lined the walls of a dining hall and a large hearth cast long shadows on the wall. While Finn took to the kitchen, Harv busied himself lighting rows of candles in the center of the table. Anything to chase the darkness away and make the place feel more lived in. There were no servants in the entire castle it seemed, other than maybe the kitchen. Harv wasn't allowed anywhere near it while Finn plated their meal. So there had to be a cook then, since Finn had been outside with him all day. The whole thing reminded Harv how truly unsettling this place could be, even though Finn didn't seem to notice. Just like the bath, having a hot meal within minutes seemed normal to him. Finn reentered the dining hall with two plates in hand and paused when he saw the glittering candles.

"Oh..." Finn's voice was soft, as if he'd forgotten there were candles out at all. He set the plates at one end of the long table, not wanting his view to be obstructed by centerpieces or distance. His brow was furrowed as he sat down to his child sized serving of pheasant and candied yams. Harv wanted to ask where the maids were and why the castle seemed in such disrepair, but nobles typically avoided direct questions about things they deemed inappropriate. The warrior's curiosity burned for even a scrap of information that could make sense of it.

"What were you working on, if you don't mind me asking." Harv quietly watched the blond shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Songs. I write them for other people." Finn sighed. "Everyone and their brother wants to have a new holiday classic, since tis the season and all. It's easy money, but after the thirtieth song it gets mind numbing."

"So, you're a bard?" Finn relaxed quite a bit. Harv got the feeling he was used to having to over explain his job to people.

"Yeah, it's just- it's easier to sell people songs from home than travel alone." He looked outside as snow drifted down. "You've been out there; you know how it is."

"It's not ideal." Harv agreed.

"What were you doing out there all alone? I thought your type usually traveled in herds." Finn took a sip of wine, watching Harv's reaction over the rim of the glass.

"Mostly freezing my butt off." He couldn't say anything about getting discharged, that would only bring up more questions Harv didn't want to answer. "I'm honestly more curious about you." Finn's eyes seemed to shimmer as he concealed a smile behind the glass. "I'm just not sure what is appropriate to ask."

"Well," Finn set his glass down, "if you really want me to talk about myself, I guess I could oblige." Suddenly, as if a damn breaking, Finn filled the silence recounting tales of studying music and palace gossip. All of which failed to answer any questions Harv had about his host. It became clear that Finn was incredibly uncomfortable with silence and would jump to whatever loose association came to mind. It was hard for Harv to get a word in after that, though it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I just don't see the appeal. Why would someone want to hire a stranger to come, paw through their things, and talk about them behind their back? Status doesn't mean anything if all the maids are talking about your messy affairs, but they do always have the best gossip." Finn collected the empty plates with a laugh. "Like, goodness I can never pronounce his name, some foreign dignitary bought a circlet for the queen as a gift this year. Can you imagine! Just walking up to the queen who's always wearing a crown and giving her a circlet!? I would sooner muck stables than be that man this weekend. No one's had the gall to warn him not to give it to her, though I doubt he has time to find something else, it's going to be a disaster."

"Can't be too bad if you're happy about it."

"Oh Harvey, every time one of those aristocrats embarrasses themselves, I positively glow." Finn caught sight of the snow blanketing the night sky. "You know... you don't have to go. You could stay another night." Harv turned and looked out the window. Only a fool would go stumbling out into a storm in the middle of the night.

"Thank you." Harv stood. "At least let me take care of the dishes."

"No!" Finn kept the plates away from Harv's reach, a little scared. "I mean, no thank you." Finn carefully regained his composure. "It'll only take a second. I'll be right back." Thought of going back to his room in the garden. By now, he'd probably have to dig a bit to get the door open. "Save room for dessert?" Finn returned with tiny plates that had some kind of glazed bread on it. Well, since it was offered, who was Harv to say no?

"Do you just write songs, or do you play them too?" Harv asked as he took the tiny plate. Finn stared up at him with the same shaken expression as when Harv had arrived on his doorstep.

"Would you want to hear me play?" Was it really such a big deal to ask?

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot. You don't have to-"

"No, I'd love to." Finn sat his desert down and stood. He seemed almost trapped pacing between which door to exit from. "My lute's more readily available, but I'm better with the harp. Oh, but the only harp we have is the standing one in the sitting room; I should just get the lute."

"We could always move to the room with the harp in it." Harv said. Finn grinned back at him.

"Of course! It's this way." He ran off, forgetting his desert entirely. Harv collected the extra plate and followed Finn across the hall to a vast sitting room. Plush red furniture was arranged around a coffee table with a crystal ball on it. Harv could have sworn those kinds of decorations were usually outside in gardens, but he wasn't the most knowledgeable about interior decorating. Finn dragged up a stool to the large harp, he hummed to himself as he tried to settle on a song to play. "Let's see, are you familiar with Lady Hawk?"

"No, I don't think I am."

"Well good, the music accompaniment was terrible, but my version fixes that." Finn leaned against and started to play.

-v-

It was so good to have an audience again. Finn had almost forgotten how much more satisfying it was to have someone engage with his art instead of silently packaging it up for the post. Nobles at court would always passively listen to performers, it was a mark of greatness if you could get through a whole set being entirely ignored. So, to have someone watching him so intently, hanging on every word, it was electric. He had caught Harv staring at him quite a bit that day. It was quite entertaining to catch him in the act only for him to hide behind his work or food as if it required his full attention. Now that Finn was performing, it was the perfect excuse for him to blatantly commit Finn's features to memory and Finn was eating it up.

He kept playing until his hands grew clumsy from fatigue. Even if his mind had an endless library to pull from, he didn't have limitless energy. Which was a shame, Finn was enjoying himself quite a bit, but no self-respecting artist would put themselves in a position to play badly. Besides, Harv was starting to nod off on the sofa.

"I should probably turn in..." Harv said. Finn rushed to collect the plates from the desert just as Harv started to pick them up.

"I got that." Finn trailed off when he looked up. It was much easier to catch a glimpse at Harv's beautiful blue eyes without all the tangles and dirt to distract him. There always seemed to be something new to take in, even if Finn noticed them at the worst opportunities. If only he had better clothes. He'd probably look dashing in royal blue.

"You keep doing that."

"Hmm?" Finn felt him tug at something in his hands. Right, the dishes, he was going to slip them in the dishwasher before Harv had a chance to ask him what that was. "It's fine." Finn took the plates without any more resistance and hurried to the kitchen, his heart thundering in his chest.

He was too old to get swept up in flights of fancy like this. There was no way he'd have a guest that would want to stay long enough to have something made and sent to the house. He should count himself lucky enough that he had a pile of firewood instead of an ax in his back. Getting greedy and letting his imagination wander had already gotten him enough disappointment in his life. He needed to be more realistic.

A good night's rest and a pleasant breakfast in the morning. That's all he could ask for. He repeated it to himself like a mantra until he had convinced his heart to slow down. He could be a good host, he just needed to stop over thinking everything. Or thinking at all really.

"Are you okay?" Finn startled at the sound of the other man's voice. He wasn't used to having someone in the house anymore and it was easy to fall into old habits. Thankfully everything was already tucked away in the magic drying rack where Harv couldn't see. It would be easy for him to assume he was just washing up.

"Everything's fine. I was just thinking it would probably be easier to have you stay in one of the rooms here then dig out the guest house so late at night." Offering him mother's old room seemed wrong, but there was an overnight room his old tutors had been held captive in when he was younger. He had on good authority that the daybed in it was serviceable, even if it was mostly used for storage now.

"I don't know, I've already imposed on you enough." Harv hesitated and looked in the general direction of the garden.

"It's not an imposition at all. Really." Finn took him by the elbow and started leading him upstairs. "Walking out in the cold first thing in the morning; that's the real pill. It's just for the night." He lit the wick lamp in the room. Dust covered boxes were stacked against the wall haphazardly, all old decorations and seasonal linens. Things Finn rarely had a use for living on his own. He pulled some of the boxes off the bed and resisted the urge to cough. Those blankets were bound to be musty smelling. "There should be some extra blankets in the linen closet-" He turned to dash back out the door and came within inches of running into Harv's chest.

"Finn really, this is plenty." He gently rested his hands on Finn's shoulders. Finn's mouth went dry. Nothing was going to happen, Harv was tired and had a family of his own to get back to, probably. Having him gently stroke the fabric of his sleeve meant nothing in particular. "Finn?" Finn was not lingering in the room hoping something more would happen. That's not what was happening. He wasn't even sure what that something would be. "You're doing it again." Harv had ducked his head to be at eye level with Finn, more curious than concerned. Finn felt like his thoughts were trying to claw their way through cobwebs. He must look absolutely daft right now.

"Just a little tired is all." He reluctantly took a step back, silently mourning the lack of physical contact. "I should..." He pointed vaguely at the door. "I'll come get you in the morning for breakfast." He slowly side stepped around his guest as he made his way toward the door and accidentally walked into a knee-high stack of boxes.

"Finn!" Harv started to reach for him, but he quickly collected himself again.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little accident prone." Finn finally fumbled his way to the door. "Good night." He closed the door and sighed into his hands. He forgot about the blankets. He couldn't just go back in there with a pile of extra linens now, after saying goodnight like that. He had already made an awkward fool of himself. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he find his head?

#Warrior u #WU Fanfic archive #HarvFinn #little finnharv things

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mysewingadventures · 4 years

Text

How To Tell Victorian Clothing Apart By Decades

First and foremost, Karolina Żebrowska made a video about this quite some time ago explaing everything in detail, but I just wanted to make my own little checklist and mention some things that I’ve noticed for myself. Of course, this list won’t be foolproof as I’m only going to talk about the most popular styles at the time and people technically could have made a regency gown in 1900, but... that’s not the point. For the sake of being able to show everything with pictures, I’m going to leave the Regency period out as I’ve already made a separate post about it.

The Victorian era is commonly packed into the visual of a brown bustle dress and/or the typical wide dresses of the Civil War, but the Victorian era actually spans over 64 years and many, many different styles.

Queen Victoria was crowned in 1837, so let’s start in the 1830s.

The 30s were wild, and that’s one word to describe it, but that mostly goes for the first half of the decade. Huge sleeves and full skirts were the thing, often in patterns inspired by wallpaper. That’s right - stripes, florals and anything that stood out was the hit. The off-the-shoulder look is just as important though, that’s what creates the round shoulder shape, together with the puff sleeves. The waistline sat a little higher than the natural waistline and was usually adorned with a belt. In the second half of the decade the sleeves started to "travel downwards", as in they started smocking or gathering the top part of the sleeve and just leave the pouf at the bottom.

The 40s left the puff sleeves and bright patterns behind, leaving high necklines, tighter sleeves and lowered the waistline to its natural position. Something very popular was the gathered front of a bodice and that trend even lasted into the early 50s. Skirts grew a little wider, requiring more support from layers upon layers of petticoats.

With the 50s here, ruffles came into fashion. If you see a wide, ruffled skirt, it’s probably from the 1850s. Some bodices extended over the hips now and almost looked like coats. Another important aspect: the pagoda sleeve. And obviously it’s important to note that the crinoline was finally patented in 1856. No more layers upon layers of corded petticoats! But this meant that dresses could be even wider than before. However, keep in mind that in the 50s, the crinoline had a round shape whereas in the 60s it started to become oval and extended further towards the back.

With the 60s, ruffles went out of fashion and synthetic dyes were invented, this meant brighter colors for a wider population! Actually, synthetic dyes were already invented in 56, but just like everything it took a while to make all the colors and really catch on so I’m counting it towards the 60s, because that’s when brightly colored dresses really took off. I find that especially evening dresses look very similar to 50s evening dresses so for me the best way to tell them apart is to look at the shape of the crinoline. Not to mention that a lot of people certainly continued to wear or slighly altered their 50s dresses but with a new crinoline.

Now we’re in the bustle era - the shape of the crinoline became slimmer but extended further towards the back, creating the bustle. I still find myself struggling telling mid 70s styles apart from the 80s, but there are some things I look at.

Firstly, the shape of the bustle. Early 70s style bustles are still pretty wide compared to the later silhouettes. Generally, you can say that in the 1870s, the profile of the bustle has a more gentle curve, the curve is not as steep. Also, a lot of 70s day dresses have trains. Many people actually started recycling old 18th century gowns into 1870s dresses so you can see a lot of inspiration and similarity in the shapes and how the dress is put together. The collars often mimick those of 18th century gowns and the back is draped like it was on a Robe à la Polonaise. Towards the very end of the 70s, bustles went out of style and women wore their dresses without a bustle.

Now on to the 1880s. Like I mentioned, the style was very similar but the bustle came back into fashion and became steeper. The necklines on day dresses were high and the collars weren’t square anymore. The draping of the overskirt still stuck, but the skirts became overall a little less wide. Very popular in the mid 1880s was draping the overskirt asymmetrically. That is the best giveaway if you’re unsure. Trains on day dresses still existed but weren’t as common as in the 70s. And once again, towards the very end of the decade the bustle went out of fashion, this time for good.

The 90s - certainly my favorite decade in the 19th century. Big sleeves were back! But no off-shoulder day dresses and the waistline was at its natural position. Pretty much all skirts were now straight in the front and gathered in the back - a very popular look. The size of the sleeves and the width of the dress reached its peak in 1895 and after that it all decreased in size again until the puff sleeve went out of fashion in 1898-99. Bodices had a slightly looser fit than in the decade before but were still tight-ish.

Now, the Victorian era only lasted up until 1901, but I’ve decided to add the 1900s to this list just because I really like that decade as well and think the clothes are really pretty.

So, in the 1900s the silhouette changed once again. Now, loose lace blouses were all the rage and the so-called pigeon breast silhouette was created with the help of an s-bend corset and a lot of stategical padding, a frilly corset cover and a loose gathered bodice. At the waist, you’d usually find a silk belt called a sash that matched the dress. The straight front skirts stayed but changed their shape slightly to be bell-shaped and flare out at the bottom. A lot of lace was used for gowns as well as frills and dainty details. But on the other side, a working woman would usually just wear a light colored blouse with a usually dark skirt and wear a belt to tie the outfit together.

So this was my way to tell the decades apart! I specifically love 19th century fashion because every decade is so different from the one before and it’s so fascinating how quickly styles changed back then.

#victorian #fashion #fashion history #historical fashion #victorian fashion #victorian dress #historical dress #edwardian #edwardian fashion #victorian clothing

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johnsamericano · 3 years

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 5:

qιαи кυи

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @unknown5tar @whathamelon @curieouscapt @silent-potato

warnings: use of the nickname sir (once I think), power play, slight choking, creampie, office sex, pure filth.

“Crap.” You murmured, your figure engulfed by the darkness of the big office.

The power had gone off, all the work you’d done probably lost now. A pair of black Oxfords clicked on the marble floor, echoing through the walls.

“Y/n?” You recognized the voice of your boss, who usually kept you company when you stayed extra hours. “Are you alright?”

“I might jump out of the window if my report got deleted.” He giggled, extending his hands to avoid crashing onto something. “Now I’ll have to stay longer.” You groaned in frustration, jolting when a pair of hands squeezed your shoulders.

“Let’s go to my office, I have a few candles and a chess board to pass time.” As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you started being able to see his face. That handsome face that had anyone down on their knees in a matter of seconds. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” But the rumors spreading around the office said otherwise. People around you would literally call him a sex god, but only very few were able to experience his abilities and none of them for more than once.

“Sure, Mr. Qian.” With your phone’s flashlight, you followed him back to the wide office, which was probably the size of your apartment.

He’d already set the chessboard, two glasses of red wine on each side of it. The candles surrounding it gave the atmosphere a warmer tone, more sensual you daresay.

“Have a seat.” The leather couch was soft, like sitting on a cloud. “I’ll play with the black ones.” You nodded, eyes staring at the glass and wondering if it would be correct to take a sip. “Go ahead, it’s all yours.” He said as if he’d listened to your thoughts.

“Thank you.” The game started, you moving your pawns first and surprisingly getting a hold of some of his pieces.

You were quick to take control of most of the board, almost all of your pieces still standing. Maybe you weren’t that bad at chess after all.

“Check mate!” You clapped your hands excitedly, sipping the last drops of wine from your glass.

“I want a rematch.”

You played a couple more matches, easily winning each and every one of them as you drank glass after glass, Kun looking at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I love wine.” And you had a great alcohol resistance.

“This is getting a little boring.” You nodded, not knowing the true intentions behind his words. “What if we give this game a little twist?”

“What kind of twist?” You raised an eyebrow, your elegant fingers grabbing the base of the glass.

“For every match one of us loses, the other one picks a piece of clothing they take off.”

“Huh?” So that’s what this was all about, he was trying to get into your pants. Thank god he sucked at the game. “Well, I’m only going to accept because you’re such a terrible player.” You weren’t planing on asking him to take off his shirt or something, maybe a sock or his tie would do.

“Ouch.” He pretended to have a chest pain, proceeding to flash a dimpled smile in your direction.

Oh if only you knew.

“How?” You stared at the board, as if the answer would suddenly appear carved on it.

“Luck, I guess.” Your brain was quick to pick up on things.

“Luck my ass, you tricked me!” For a moment you forgot it was your boss who you were talking to, but he didn’t seem to mind, more like he was actually enjoying himself.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” He stood up from the couch, taking out a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cabinet beside his desk. He poured the ámbar liquid inside while taking a seat. “Now...” he took a sip, his eyes seductively looking at you. “Where should we start?” He evaluated his options, scanning your body from head to toes. “Take of your bra.”

“H-Huh?” You weren’t expecting him to be so direct, and yet, his words had you core dripping already.

“Take of your bra.” He repeated. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, in which case, you’re free to leave.” But he perfectly knew you had no intentions of leaving, a cocky grin adorning his plump lips as you lifted your shirt slightly, unclasping the piece of lingerie and pulling it out through your sleeve, something you usually did as soon as you arrive home.

The silky material of your blouse caressed your soft buds. Your piece of clothing was a little see through, giving Kun a peak at your hardened nipples.

“Shall we move on to the next round?”

In less than an hour, you were sitting almost completely naked in front of him, your panties being the last piece of clothing covering you (if you didn’t count the high heels he’d insisted you kept on). But they wouldn’t stay on for longer, for your king was trapped with not much pieces left to cover him. Your forearm covered your breasts as well as you could, your hands fidgeting with the wooden piece.

“There’s no way I can win this, is there?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” Without an ounce of embarrassment left, you slipped down the final piece of clothing, kicking it to the side and releasing your mounds from their confinement. “Look at you, all pretty and naked for your boss.”

“What comes next?” Perhaps another round of chess, you thought. Instead of putting the pieces back in place, he walked over to you, lifting your chin so your eyes were directly facing his.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

You somehow ended up laying down on his desk, all of the stuff in it now scattered around the floor as he rammed himself inside of you. He kept eye contact at all times, that cocky grin making its appearance as he held your knees against your chest.

“God, y/n. You know how long I’ve waited to do this?” Blonde strands of hair were sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat shimmering under the dim light of the candles. “Even when I was fucking someone else, all my mind could think about, was you. How well you’d take me, how much of a good girl you’d be for me...”

“S-sir.” You were clenching around him, seconds away from your high.

“You’re my pretty little fuck doll, aren’t you?” His hands let go of your knees, wrapping around your neck instead. “Answer.”

“Yes, sir.” You whimpered, your air supply running short.

“Good girl.” His hands loosened around your neck, but still not letting go of it. “I want you to take all of my cum, not a single drop of it should be wasted, alright?” You nodded, eyes shut as your toes curled in pleasure.

One final thrust sent you over the edge, consequently causing his seed to paint your walls. He pulled out, watching you desperately try not to spill his fluids.

“So obedient.” He walked back to the small living room, grabbing your discarded clothes to dress you up. “Just so you know, I usually never do this.” He clasped your beige bra, his fingers pad brushing your flushed skin.

“Then why are you doing it now?” By now, his cum was sliding down from your thighs into the desk, but he didn’t mind, at least you tried.

“Because it’s you.”

“I’m honored, Mr. Qian.”

“Don’t get cocky. Raise your butt.”

“Wait!” He had already slid your panties up, smearing them with yours and his fluids. “Kun!”

“Calling me by my name? Naughty girl.” He flicked your forehead, not completely sure if giving the red spot a kiss would be appropriate. “It doesn’t seem like the power’s gonna come back soon, you should head home.”

“But then you’ll be alone.”

“Are you worried about me?” The thought of the recent events not being more than a one-time thing, made your heart drop.

“N-no. Never mind, I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.” You adjusted your dressing pants before hoping off the desk.

“Wear a skirt tomorrow.” He said right before you crossed the door. “And no panties, I want you ready for me.”

It was definitely not gonna be a one-time thing, and the thought of it alone, had you drenched. Maybe working extra hours wasn’t so bad after all.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv smut

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kirascottage · 3 years

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OMG

imagine going on a date to the beach with luna, and collecting seashells and watching the sunset <<333

by the seashore

luna lovegood x genderneutral. reader

summary: you and luna collect shells together at the beach.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: discomfort (?), mentions of luna’s dead mom, pet names [my love], overall fluff central

There was something surreal when watching the wind seized its rightful place in the air. The unique way it melted through people, under the dull flush of their skin and how it would entangle with waves of hair like a folklore dance.

It was beautiful.

The day of summer seething in pleasant warmth, a prepossessing summer day of August.

“Lu, c’mon! You can’t get distracted by all the crabs!” Was the first ludic chastise that left your lips. A delighted giggle naturally followed in its wake.

You snorted exuberantly as Luna was crouched by the shoreline, the dampened sand instantly began to garnish the visible bottom of her ivory dress.

The sleeves of her flowing dress were marginally a gypsy cut. It was flowy similar to a sheet blouse. One opaque colour dressed her from her prominent collarbones to the chipping indigo paint on her toes. The skirt consisted of ruffled tiers of sheer and opaque thin, white, organic cotton.

The ragged hem ended just below her ankle, like a seamstress who had instantly forgotten her task mid-stitch. A spidery hoary lace bodice consummated the ensemble.

Luna’s head had spun in your direction, a few curls flopping against her neck in the process, “But they’re so pretty—“ The blonde’s sandy palm filled with granules of gritty sand, as she had crouched down near an exposed rock to gape at the minuscule Crustaceans, “—look at them.”

The distinctive blend of her irises had carefully surveyed the cardinal crabs. They had tickled at the pads of her fingertips and nipped at the delicacy of her rosy palms. The soothing feeling had boiled her mind into a tranquiliser of eternal peace, her upturned eyes glancing farther towards the shore.

“Look! It’s a Tulip Shell.” She whispered tenderly to her left, where you had sat in the grains of the moisture-laden sand. Your legs were crossed and your crooked elbows dug into the shoreline as you carefully observed her in the elements of divine nature.

At her excited demeanour, your eyes flitted towards the hollow shell entwining with her digits. Her gentle fingers began carving down the shallow indentations and minor grooves of the ivory shell, politely handing it over to you so you could do the same.

The intolerable specks and particles beneath your thighs were almost less than concerning your conscious mind. As you had attempted to pay no mind to the ground beneath you, Luna had both begun sharing the shell now in your palms whilst her forefinger pointed at the detailings.

“Let’s add this to the collection.” She murmured near your ear, delicately including it into the beige tote bag dipped over your left shoulder.

The gleaming shade of sapphire had begun bleeding back into the sea-crabs crawling around the minuscule jagged rocks of the shore.

Your observations and inarticulate affections had initiated again after its unspoken pause of your attention caught by her dainty voice; her hair was up that day, you noted, an ever so surprising occurrence as it was routinely down with ringlets accessorizing her temples.

She had been in an ongoing endeavour to annex new things to her extensive wardrobe as well as her mundane features.

Luna’s hair was in waved ringlets, per usual. The blend of platinum and blue streaks knitted between the locks fell down her spine like Rapunzels descending her gaunt tower.

The aquamarine shade merged in her tresses had been constructed by pigments and shades of colour she had crafted herself. Partial locks of hers were pinned in a loose bun as the others descended her cheeks.

You were naturally gifted with the view of her side profile. The slope of her nose has met the cupid’s bow of her plush lips and the dip in her chin interwoven with her soft jaw.

Any air proceeding down your trachea felt as if it had been stolen by a thief. It was more than a hitch of breath whilst gazing at the one you loved. It was similar to a memorable moment in time like taking your first polaroid and watching the dyes bleed into the silver halide grains of the picture.

She was oblivious to your admiration, her eyes levelled on the crowd of red gathering on her palm. But you continuously starred, utterly rapt in her presence.

“Y/N, look at this one.” Your trance now fragmented as her hand came to rest on your sandy kneecap, “It’s a Cerithiidae; it swirls up like a tower. It’ll protect us from the Nargles” She added.

Your eyes swept around the shore after acknowledging the shell. “I wish there were more of them, like the pink and yellow ones.” You articulated the variations of a certain shell as she settled it in your tote bag.

An explosive conversation regarding the variations of shells poured from your tongues, an array of bubbling infectious laughter spilling between the both of you. The simmering of your synchronized laughter had Luna silent for a moment.

The peeping grin on her lips began to tug harder at the ample margins of her cheeks as she stood up, dusting down the remaining particles of sand from the skirt of her dress and held her palm out facing the sky.

“As you said, we have places to be, my love.”

For the remnants of the postmeridian day the peaceful silence of the waves crashing and birds singing has been infiltrated with your shared laughter and boasts regarding the miscellany of pearly shells washed upon the seashore.

When the array of vibrant colours came to rest on the horizon, you both had paused at the shore to admire the crepuscular light, an immediate silence had surrounded the both of you in admiration.

When your left appendage had begun feeling like a deadweight sewn to your shoulder, due to the mass of the shells in your bag, you and Luna had opted to reside at her house for the remainder of the night where her father had also stayed.

“Which one’s your favourite?” Her voice was several octaves lighter than usual, her voice abiding by a faint whisper.

You both had currently indwelled to her beryl room, the tinges and pigments of blue lining her room similar to her coverlet. The sky reached dusk as your legs tangled with the thin sheets and her chin was perched on your shoulder, her arm was gripped around your waist, and a leg was thrown hastily over your lap with her skirt gently fanning across your abdomen.

“The one your dad liked. The Horse Conch.” You muttered back into her pallid forehead with the scrunch of her shapely nose naturally following.

You both had begun muttering about the shell Xenophilius Lovegood had been absolutely fascinated with the moment you arrived back at his (and Luna’s) home.

His platinum hair was pulled up by his wand after working on a new spell his late wife had been raving about and he looked completely enervated from the day's work.

He elected to satisfactorily arrange the new shells across the shelves, the Sunray Venus and the Horse Conch being the centrepieces of the shambolic house.

Amid your conversation, your words had begun dying off your tongue in fatigue. Your voice has already begun lulling her into sleep. Your shared breaths began sedating in the tenebrous room, a clutch of dainty fingers wrapping around your palm as you both began to succumb to dusk that was near.

“Night, Lu.” You whispered into the tuffs of blonde colliding gently against your lips. The envision of a further date at the beach, already deciphering in Luna’s head.

🏷 @miiamour @lesbiansammyy @zzzfour @mollysolo @sprucewoodlover @black-rose-29 @myalupinblack @o-rion-sta-r @itszero16

#luna lovegood fanfiction #luna lovegood x reader #luna lovegood #luna lovegood x you #luna lovegood x ravenclaw!reader #luna lovegood x y/n #luna lovegood x gn!reader #luna lovegood x fem!reader #luna lovegood fic #luna lovegood fluff #luna lovegood smut #luna lovegood headcanons #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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morningsunstudio · 1 month

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Alfred Dunner Vintage blouse size 19 embroidered appliqué crinkle fabric artsy.

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theblueiron · 4 months

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Kathie Lee Button Down Blouse.

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nrpblousehub · 1 year

Text

Comfort meets Style: Discover Elbow Sleeve Padded Blouse.

Whether you're looking for a sleeveless padded blouse, an elbow sleeve padded blouse, or a readymade lehenga blouse, NRP blouses near you provide a fantastic selection. With their focus on style, comfort, and quality, you can confidently choose these blouses for any occasion. Visit your nearest NRP store to explore their collection and find the perfect blouse that complements your style and personality.

Shop now: https://nrpblousehub.com/product/padded-brocade-round-neck-sleeve-less-blouse-pink/

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.

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littlx-songbxrd · 3 years

Note

ok so tlh is set in 1903 and there are a few things we know about the clothes from the books themselves- 1. we have a vague idea of the silhouette, as briefly described in the book and the dresses on the cover (although those are mostly incorrect, they do, I suppose, set the reader into the general mindset.) and 2. apparently only pastel colors are fashionable, they do not look nice on cordelia specifically (not all poc girls look 'washed out' in these colors, Kamala, who is often depicted in official art with a similar skin tone to cordelia is stated in the books to look very nice in her pastel dresses)

firstly, the 1900s were a rather odd decade for clothes silhouette wise. this decade was the transition from the 1800s dresses with foot-length hemlines and fuller skirts into the 1910s trends of dresses that reached to the bottom of the calf and a more utilitarian and accessible style. Dresses in the 1900s still had the tubular shape of the 1890s, although it was less severe and it eventually faded out by about 1906 or 1907.

Speaking for now only about the first half of the decade as the books do take place in 1903, the dresses would have had a very structured bodice with flowing skirts that reached to about the ankle. Their undergarments would have included at least three layers (something in between the corset and their body, the corset, and a corset cover) with drawers, stockings, padding at their hips and bust, and at least 1-2 petticoats. dresses consisted of the bodice and skirt as separate pieces, with lace and embellishments used to bring the attention to the bodice.

Day clothes were more structured and less busy, most of them including high necklines and long sleeves. (yes this means that the stupid thing with james always staring at cordelia's chest is not realistic.)

The ballgowns and party dresses that are often mentioned are slightly more accurate. These dresses tended to be very busy with lots of patterns and lace on them, often toward the bust line to achieve an ideal silhouette. skirts were longer and fuller than the day dresses and gloves were always worn with these dresses to make it appear more modest as it had low necklines and short sleeves.

a couple of notes about historical accuracy- number one being the corset. there is a part in chain of gold where cordelia complains about her corset that makes me mad every time I read it. corset were modern bras but more comfortable, they were incredibly supportive and didn't mess with anything permanently. there was always a layer between the skin and the corset as protection for both the skin and the corset as they were intended to be worn for years on end and needed protected from oil and dirt from the body. tight lacing is essentially the historic equivalent to people today who get dressed up in their fanciest clothes for an 8 a.m college class. it wasn't standard and it was only done in very specific situations in which the wearer wanted to look a certain way. for the most part, the super narrow waist wasn't actually all that small, and it looked that way because of padding on the hips and chest.

number two on the standards for fashion at the time. at this point being fashionable was less about standing out as it was about fitting in. If you were wearing something out of fashion it was abnormal and you would be ridiculed for it, along the lines of wearing jeans and a t-shirt to a formal wedding. it was a matter of propriety and respect. Getting dressed a certain way wasn't chore or special thing, it just was.

number three is on the aesthetic dress movement. this would be the category the cover dresses fall into. the aesthetic dress movement encouraged women to dress individually by rejecting the high fashion and emphasizing freedom of movement and practicality. (that is not to mean that high fashions weren't practical and comfortable, its basically just the equivalent of wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants as opposed to something like jeans, a blouse, and five accessories. both are good, its just that they feel very different.) these clothes took from greco-romanic traditions as well as that of eastern asian cultures, with flowing, airy fabrics and loose silhouettes. this style was usually only worn around the home.

next we're going to talk about color. first of all, pastels do not wash cordelia out, she is absolutely stunning in them, as well as the jewel tones. on a more historical note, clothes in the 1900s weren't all pastels????? lighter colors were in trend, as more of an aesthetic dressing style was in fashion, but dark colors could never actually go out of style from a practical standpoint. day dresses from the early half of the decade usually had darker colors, I will link or send another ask with two examples. one, from 1900, is a dark red and gray dress and the other is a walking dress actually from 1903 and is a perfect example of something cordelia could have worn. (it has a very nice brownish gray color with gold embellishments and a high neck.)

now evening dresses on the other hand were usually light colored, almost all of the surviving ones from this decade are a creme or gold color (there are a few in black and some in other colors as well, but the majority are creme, gold, or extremely light to the point they look white.) this is where the biggest plot hole is in my opinion. so it would have been most fashionable by mundane standards to wear a white or gold, which are the mourning and wedding colors respectively, so they obviously couldn’t have done that, which means that the women are either wearing day dresses that wouldn't come into creation until 3-5 years later, they are breaking mundane fashion rules, or they are breaking strict shadowhunter tradition. (out of all the shadowhunter things, the color code seems to actually be the one most consistent through all of the series, aside from the line about the youth in london wearing white sailing outfits.)

cordelias jewel tone wardrobe from anna is incredibly unrealistic in multiple aspects. for one, multiple dresses that would have had to have been custom made by hand plus, correct me if i'm wrong, accessories or undergarments, would have been WILDLY unrealistically expensive. there are plenty of money questions for the shadowhunter universe, but an entire wardrobe like that isn't even historically accurate for the british royal family even with all their blood money. on top of that is the fact that with the cultural implications of certain fashions cordelia very well could have become an outcast for wearing something so wildly out of fashion. there isn't really a modern correlation for it, but while she wouldn't necessarily have become a complete outcast or pariah, with the way we are told the shadowhunters align with societal values of the time (I.e cordelia being ruined) accepting that wardrobe would have been completely counterintuitive to her mission of being accepted by the shadowhunter society.

so that was a lot and i'm not sure if I got everything. let me know if you need any clarification, or want anything continued!!! thank you so much for letting me info dump and rant in your inbox, you are amazing!!

links for photos:

Worth 1903 evening dress

Worth 1903 walking dress

Worth 1900 day dress

plus an article that is the best thing i've ever read

I also have some other video/article links if anyone wants them!!

I will be honest with you anon

I really have nothing to add to all this besides that this is absolutely fascinating

I love how you compared clothing to different types of modern day equivalent that genuinely made it so much easier for me to visualize

I had actually heard complaints about the corset thing before! I had actually seen that many authors seem to write them as if they are the bane of many ya historical fantasies, when in reality it wasn't that at all. So in that scene in chog Cordelias corset was the equivilant of dressing in your fansiest clothes for a class?

See I would have never guessed it!

So more flowy greco-roman inspired clothing got it!

The movement mostly went towards freedom and practicality

Oh that does seem like a problem

The confiction between being appropriate in shadowhunter culture and in the fashion of the time

THE MONEY THING ALWAYS BAFLED ME TOO LIKE HOW ARE THESE HUNTERS WASTING SO MUCH TIME IN THIS WHEN THEY DESPISE FASHION-

Anyways

This is amazing

I will be refering to it more for ficts :D

THANK YOU I WILL BE WATCHING ALL THAT

#SORRY IT POSTED EARLY #Anons!#fashion anon

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everywhereallofthetime · 3 years

Text

Some Girl ... Part 12

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None.

// * // * //

Sunday / July 25th

After talking before bed the night before, Charlotte and Shawn agreed that he would ride with her, Jonah, and Mackenzie to Elisa and Jack’s. It didn’t make sense for them to take two vehicles to the same place. Shawn said he’d walk over and grab coffee on the way. Make a good first impression, he had chuckled, although Charlotte could hear the truth within his words.

Shawn arriving early would give him, Jonah, and Mackenzie a chance to meet and get to know one another a little before they joined everyone else. They would talk over coffee and after Sebastian woke from his morning nap and nursed, they would leave for brunch.

Charlotte nearly swooned when she opened the door for Shawn.

His skin was bronzed and glowing, having spent so much time outside over the past week. His hair had lightened a shade as well, and whatever products he had put in it that morning had his curls and waves behaving beautifully.

He was wearing white jean shorts with a brown belt, a trim-fit, navy blue button-down with the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, and brown Vans with blue accents.

“Good morning, babe,” she beamed. She hated how only one day away from him had suddenly become too long.

“Good morning,” he grinned back, wrapping the arm of his free hand around her and snuggling her tightly to him. He breathed her in. It had been only one day but he had deeply missed the soft scent of her.

When they eased out of their hug, Charlotte ran the open placket of Shawn’s shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “You look so handsome,” she smiled. “I love you in blue.”

“Thank you, darling. You are as beautiful as always.”

Charlotte was wearing a white, short-sleeve, off the shoulder blouse and white and navy blue striped shorts. She noticed that her outfit complimented his perfectly.

“Are you ready to meet my brother and his fiancée?”

“I hope so,” he chuckled.

She linked her hand with his which wasn’t carrying their coffee and together they walked further into the condo. Jonah and Mackenzie had been sitting at the kitchen island but stood when Charlotte and Shawn entered the room.

Before any introductions could be made, Mackenzie breathed, “Oh my God, you two are adorable.”

“I swear, we did not discuss what we were going to wear today,” Charlotte laughed.

“It’s perfect,” Mackenzie giggled, “I love it.”

Charlotte introduced Shawn to Jonah and Mackenzie.

Jonah gave Shawn a once-over when they shook hands. He was tall, fit, and clean-cut, with a strong jawline and five visible tattoos. He was very attractive. Any man secure enough in who they were could admit when another man was attractive.

Mackenzie, on the other hand, gave Shawn a thorough head to toe.

Charlotte was used to women reacting favorably to Shawn, and she also knew it was something that was always going to happen with him being who he was. Even if the person didn’t know who he was, aside from being a global popstar, he was simply an incredibly attractive man. In any case, Charlotte had no true claim on Shawn. Besides, Mackenzie was happily engaged to Jonah; Charlotte knew she meant no harm or disrespect.

They all sat together at the dining room table with their coffees. Charlotte took a sip of Shawn’s coffee and instead of giving it back to him, she handed him hers.

“Babe,” he chuckled.

“Yours is better.”

“It also has a lot more caffeine,” he tittered.

She took a couple of additional sips and then, somewhat reluctantly, handed it back to him, reclaiming her own.

Charlotte looked at Jonah and Mackenzie’s amused expressions, and explained, “Too much caffeine isn’t good for Bash.”

“I started reading What to Expect: the First Year after I met Charlotte and Bash for the first time,” Shawn admitted, blushing.

“What? I didn’t know that,” Charlotte breathed, astonished. Shawn shrugged nonchalantly. “Why are you so fucking cute?” she smirked, briefly cupping his face, stroking the pad of her thumb along his cheekbone.

Jonah didn’t say so out loud, but that was something truly admirable. Not many male friends of a single mother would bother to take the time to do that. Hell, not many boyfriends would.

“How old are you, Shawn?” Jonah wondered. Shawn was already proving himself to be quite mature, but he still looked relatively young.

“I’ll be 23 in two weeks.”

“August 8th,” Charlotte offered.

“Leo,” Mackenzie tacked on. “And Charlie, you’re an Aquarius?” she asked. “February?”

“The 4th,” Shawn said, with a nod.

Mackenzie simply smiled in an all-knowing sort of way.

“Are you originally from Toronto?” Jonah asked Shawn.

“Born and raised in Pickering. Graduated from Pine Ridge.”

“I have a buddy who went to Pine Ridge. Played varsity hockey.”

“I played hockey. And soccer and basketball, too. I was in drama and the glee club. I also did Leadership Camp every year except my last.”

“Did you go to college?” Mackenzie asked.

“No. I was too busy touring…”

Jonah looked confused. “Excuse me?”

Shawn looked at Charlotte. Jonah and Mackenzie noticed that an entire conversation seemed to pass between them without words.

“I don’t meet very many people who don’t already know who I am,” Shawn said.

“Should we know who you are?” Mackenzie asked.

“Not necessarily. Not by sight anyway. Maybe not at all. You may know some of my music.”

At that moment they all heard Sebastian through the baby monitor. It wasn’t the ideal time for him to have woken up.

Charlotte frowned. “I would say, hold that thought, but...”

“It’s all right. Go,” Shawn smiled reassuringly.

She stood from the table and ran her fingers through the little curls at the nape of his neck. “May as well get it out of the way, babe.” Just before Charlotte entered the nursery, she said, “Alexa, play Shawn Mendes.”

// * // * //

The moment Charlotte returned after nursing, she heard Jonah ask, “Elisa and Jack, and everyone, you’ve met them already? We’re not springing any surprises on them?”

“He met them last weekend,” Charlotte answered.

“Hi buddy!” Shawn beamed at Sebastian.

Sebastian was already reaching for Shawn when Charlotte handed him over. “All except Valerie. And she is very excited to meet him today.”

Jonah could easily see that Shawn and Sebastian had already bonded, and he really liked that Shawn was thoughtful, sweet to, and respectful of his sister. They made a good match, even if they weren’t officially together in any capacity more than friendship.

“How did it go?” Charlotte asked, looking from Shawn to Jonah and Mackenzie. “You’re cool?” she said to her brother and his fiancée.

“We’re cool,” Mackenzie smiled.

“I always expect everyone to immediately recognize him.” Charlotte turned to Mackenzie, “I was anticipating having to have a conversation with you yesterday when you saw the picture of us on the console table.”

“What picture?” Shawn asked.

Charlotte retrieved the photo and brought it back to Shawn.

“Aw babe, I want a copy of this.” Sebastian tried to grasp the frame and bring it to his mouth. “Really, little man? Everything has to go straight into your mouth, eh?”

“I thought you might,” she smiled and pulled from her pocket the coolest flash drive keychain he had ever seen. “All of the photos from the zoo are on it. You can keep whichever ones you want and delete the rest.”

“This is amazing. Thank you, darling,” he said, grinning brightly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Should we get going then?”

// * // * //

Charlotte’s family was ecstatic when she and Shawn, with Sebastian in his arms, arrived at brunch with Jonah and Mackenzie.

As Jonah was swept up in hugs and excited chatter, Shawn whispered encouragingly to Mackenzie, “Try not to feel overwhelmed. You’re marrying into an incredible family.”

Mackenzie squeezed Shawn’s forearm. “Thank you, Shawn.”

Jonah introduced Mackenzie, who was eagerly and enthusiastically welcomed.

Everyone was happy to see Shawn as well. They adored him almost as much as Charlotte did, which settled warmly in her chest.

The only one who hadn’t met Shawn yet was Valerie, and with the tiniest nod from Charlotte in her direction, she finally approached, greeting her cousin with a bright smile and a hug.

Charlotte squeezed her back, quick and tight. “I’m happy you’re here.” She then took Sebastian from Shawn and introduced him to Valerie.

She and Shawn could both see how excited Valerie was to meet him, but she did an admirable job keeping her composure, which was good. She needed to get used to Shawn being around.

Elisa swept by and snatched Sebastian from Charlotte’s arms and yelled over her shoulder at the trio, “Go eat!”

// * // * //

Once stomachs were full and minds were mimosa-relaxed, and when Jonah had the chance to step away from the whirlwind of aunts, uncles, and cousins, first making sure Mackenzie felt comfortable enough for him to do so, he went looking for Shawn.

He found him with his sister, of course; they were practically joined at the hip after all. They were cleaning up the kitchen, laughing so hard about God knows what that they were wheezing.

“So this is where the real party is. Clean up. Who knew?” Once Shawn and Charlotte had a chance to catch their breath, Jonah asked, “Do you play pool, Shawn?”

Charlotte gave Shawn a look that said, I warned you this might happen.

Shawn just smirked at Charlotte before turning to Jonah to say, “I’m better at ping pong than pool, but sure.”

“Great.” He then said to Charlotte, “I’ll get him back to you before you know it.” She softly bit her bottom lip and blushed.

The two young men headed downstairs to the rec room.

After the break and when they had each had one turn, Shawn said, “Charlotte told me you would want to talk, man to man.”

“No pretext then, eh?”

“What are my intentions with your sister?”

“We’ll get there,” Jonah chuckled. “How long have you and Charlie known each other?”

“Not long. Less than anyone might expect. We’ve never been outright asked and we’ve always sort of skirted around the specifics.”

“Why?”

Shawn nervously ran his hand though his hair. “Because it’s kind of ridiculous and we’re afraid we’ll be judged for it.”

Jonah was both curious and apprehensive. He waited until after Shawn took his next shot, sinking one ball, but not the next. He was hoping Shawn would offer more on his own, which he did as Jonah took his turn.

“I don’t know how you felt when you met Mackenzie for the first time, but Charlotte and I... It was immediate, the connection we made. She was heaven-sent when I needed someone the most.”

“And when was that? I’m asking outright.”

Shawn’s cheeks reddened. “A week ago.”

“Wait. Hold on.”

Shawn looked at Jonah in a way which said, now you know why we skirt around it.

“Okay. Reserving my judgement. Go on.”

Shawn continued, telling Jonah about where, when, and how he met Charlotte, and how their lives have intertwined since then. He took a deep breath before saying, “You know how you hear about ‘love at first sight’ and ‘when you know, you know?’ It’s like that with us. I mean, not exactly. We’re not in love,” he blushed. “But there’s deep affection and appreciation between us. She’s the most honest and accepting person I know. She’s sweet, and she’s kind, and I know I can place my faith and trust in her.”

“Forgive me for asking, but I have to. I have to watch out for my sister. I’m sure you understand, having a younger sister yourself... You’re not looking for a rebound or taking advantage of her in any way, are you?”

“Wow. Blunt. But I appreciate that. If you know Charlotte at all, she doesn’t let anyone take advantage of her... And with who I am, I have to be careful that I’m not the one being taken advantage of.”

“I didn’t even consider that,” Jonah said, thoughtfully.

“Regardless, no. I care about her too much. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

“Has Charlie told you much about Booker?”

“I know that she loved him, and she said he was good to her when he was around, but she also used the words 'complicated', 'reckless', and 'dangerous'. I haven’t pressed her for more. We don't really talk about our exes.

“She hasn’t asked me about my ex aside from wondering how I’m doing. I know Charlotte would tell me about Booker if I asked, but I would rather have her offer to tell me when she feels ready to. It doesn’t seem to matter much though because, as far as I understand, he hasn’t even tried to reach out since she left him. Which is a dick move, by the way. If I had a son, I’d do anything to be in his life; never mind what kind of relationship I had with his mother.

“We’ll have those conversations when we’re ready, or when we need to.” Shawn then said, “She misses you a lot, you know. You should really make an effort to come back to Toronto more often. And Bash is going to grow up so fast. You don’t want to miss that.”

“I like your integrity,” Jonah said. “And I like you. I like you for Charlie.”

“We’re-”

“Just friends, I know. Still. You care for her. She cares for you. I like how you treat her and my nephew. I see how you watch out for them. I hope you’re in their lives for a long time, whether you stay only friends or someday it turns into something more.”

// * // * //

Part 13

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fluff

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