his manicure

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Getting ready for his manicure.

“Where did you get that nail polish?”
“murdoc”

He didn’t mention that he gave him a manicure, too.
This is stupid I’m sorry what have my life become

Sometimes John and Sherlock accidentally talk all night.

Like maybe the intention to go to sleep at a normal time was there, but then they get distracted.

11 PM: They finish the movie and it just naturally feels like time for bed. Teeth are cleaned, doors are locked, and they settle in between the sheets, and damn is the bed comfortable compared to the haphazard dog pile of limbs they had gotten into on the sofa.

“What did you think of the film?”

“Nice; very enjoyable.”

“Did I tell you it was my favorite when I was a kid?”

“No. Really?”

“Yeah. Would watch it on repeat.”

“Interesting. But it’s no longer your favorite?”

“Right. I dunno- I still love it, but not in the same way.”

“I understand. Your favorite now is that one Bond, um…Die Another Day?”

“Yeah.” John gives Sherlock a small, soft smile. He looks almost bewitched.

“What’s that look for?”

“It’s for you. ”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because it’s really nice to have someone remember things like that about me.”

1 AM: The discussion has shifted to favorites, and why they’re favorites.

“So you would rather listen to that same Rolling Stones album again and again for eternity than ever even trying something like Debussey?”

“Correct.”

“Alright, well, now I know.”

“You know what?”

“That we’re breaking up.”

They laugh.

2 AM: …and now they’re just naming things they like.

John: “Long car journeys”

Sherlock: “The smell of coffee.”

“You hate coffee.”

“I hate the taste of coffee.”

“You are a complex being.”

“Thank you.”

They laugh some more.

John: “Rainy mornings that last all day.”

“Me too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They’re lovely.”

“Why’s that?”

Sherlock fidgets with his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer.

“Because you always wake me very…pleasantly… and often you continue waking me pleasantly for most of the morning…afternoon…even into the evening sometimes.”

“Do I? When it’s raining?”

“Yes. Not every time, but under a certain set of conditions I can, for the most part, look at the forecast for the morning the night before and know in advance whether or not I’ll be getting anything done the next day.”

John looks back at him, a concoction of surprise, then near embarrassment, then a sly smile.

“Interesting, see, I find that I get one thing in particular done consistently on those days.”

Sherlock snorts.

4 AM: The topic has shifted between worst hangover stories and crazy uni memories to some more difficult things, like John’s time in the service, and Sherlock’s addiction.

“We’ve sort of been dealt a few tough hands eh?”

“Truly.”

“Makes me want to take you away somewhere and just be relaxed for a bit.”

“I would agree to that in an instant.”

“Yeah? Let’s do that, then.”

“Fantastic idea!”

“I do get them on occasion.”

More laughter.

5 AM:

John is trying to work in to the concersation something he’s been wanting Sherlock to know for a long time. It’s difficult, though- he’s never really said anything like this- anything so personal.

“It says a lot about you, I think, that I can do things like this- stay awake all night, not having to be overwhelmed or rampant. You balance me, John.”

“Yeah..yeah I- I know what you mean. You also- I mean, you sort of…I don’t dread…my life to come…anymore. I used to think of all the days and years I had left to endure, wonder how I would fill them, hoping I could find something that wouldn’t feel so miserable, something to settle for, but you- fuck, Sherlock, I think back to that now and it feels like a horrible nightmare. I’m…more than just glad, to have found you. You- damn, this is hard, I-”

Sherlock ties his fingers with John’s and moves even closer.

"Take your time. No rush. No pressure. Anything you want to tell me, you can. You’re safe here.”

"I suppose…You umm…you made me rethink- my plans, for me, yes. But not only that, you also showed me a way of living so different from what I had known, so much better and full of richness, I look back at those days where I no longer wanted to be alive and think -it’s probably because I wasn’t alive. I had every responsibility and felt every drawback of life but was denied any of the good stuff. You showed me so much more than I ever knew was out there- you sort of saved my life by…showing me how to live it? That’s so cheesy, I-”

And now Sherlock is crying. So John starts crying.

6 AM: they’ve got themselves together by now and moved on to something a little lighter.

"Right…so, you mean to tell me that James Moriarty, criminal mastermind, scary man with an affinity for the latest in explosive fashion, still sleeps with a teddy bear?”

"Precisely.”

"How did you figure that one out?”

"It took a few-visits- to piece it together, mostly because I was in disbelief myself, but he shows signs of a stiff neck as if he sleeps in an extremely bent position with one arm hooked partially under himself, likely around a small item. Persistence of this soreness shows that he didn’t just sleep wrong once, he makes a habit of this position. But what really sealed the realization was the right thumbnail. Much shorter than all the others, wrinkled texture, dry skin around the edges where the rest of his finers are immaculately manicured. Exposed to moisture for long periods of time.”

"No fuckin way!”

"Oh yes. He sucks his thumb. What a terrifying creature.”

Hysterical laughter.

"I’m always curious what you could tell about me right away and what took you a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous path John- not everyone wants to know what others can tell about them.”

"Yeah but I’m just tired enough to ask anyway.”

"Well, all the things I pointed out at Bart’s…then more and more about your childhood based on your dating habits…around a month after we moved in I had narrowed down the approximate size of your…tyre lever…”

"Really?”

"Well…I had underestimated, to be honest. Your stature is misleading, as I’m sure you know.”-

"So, that is to say, you were-”

"Incredibly anxious and then surprised in the best possible way.”

"I was going for ‘not disappointed’, but alright.”

"Not in the slightest. My God, not even a little. In fact, what’s the opposite of disappointed?”

"Satisfied?”

"More than.”

"Sated?”

"Never.”

7 AM: Talking has ceased. The sun seeps in at the sides of the drapes, pale and gray. It’s a bit chilly, but neither know- it’s aafe and warm in the bubble of their room.

Neither sleep until around noon, after tea and toast in bed- the rain hits the roof in steady droves, tapping occasionally at the window if the wind blows a certain way.

Sherlock gets absolutely no work done.
Voltron headcannons

-Lance is thicc af, he can dance in any style
-He plays the ukulele like a damn pro.
-He is also effeminate, in the sense that he can run in heels and kill a man with his manicure
-Allura collects crystals and loves it when Lance plays his ukulele (he totes bought one at an “authentic earthling” store)
-Pidge is 100% done with everything (why the fuck is everyone pining over everyone??)
-Hunk always has food on him and likes his nails painted
-Kieth can recite every MCR song by memory (go ahead, test him)
-Shiro is one of the biggest meme fiends (“What in self-deprication”//“Pepe wouldn’t treat me like this”)
-Coran follows Lance’s beauty regime
-Lance, Shiro and Hunk all enjoy reading teen mags (honestly Lotor’s spreads are their fav)
-Kieth and Pidge take personality quizzes (shitty ones//“What kind of Solarian bird are you?”)
-Allura and Coran sing Altean folk songs while they work
-Shiro and Pidge share obsession over fitspiration (both work out extensively)
-Pidge can bench press Kieth
-Allura, Coran, and Lance have sleepovers and share beauty tips (they do each others hair/nails, face masks, and gossip)
-Hunk is a casual visitor (he usually caters)
-Shiro has the habit of leaving motivational post it notes on the lions (more on Blue than any other lion)
-Lance can style anyone’s hair. He can give Shiro’s hair braids (he loves to play with that white tuft)
-everyone is in awe
-Kieth knows card tricks
-Its helps calm children alien refugees
-Pidge rigs up communication systems to earth
-Lance spend an hour talking to all of his family
-Shiro’s mother and father take down his shrine (they sob so much and speak rapid fire Japanese together)
-Pidge keeps updating their mother on the search for Matt and their father (they both cry so much)
-Kieth has no one to message, his father went back to Seoul after his birth
-Hunk calls his moms and introduces Kieth as his brother (both women immediately adopt Kieth legally on earth -Kieth doesn’t cry, shut up)
-Everyone meets each other’s families
-the McClain clan inducts both Alteans as honorary members after hearing thier back story

paint heaven and anger the gods

so the trailer for miss hokusai advertised one type of movie, and then the actual movie was …. something else entirely. but the trailer gave me ideas, so here they are:

there is girl –

no.

there is woman –

no.

there is a young woman, an old girl, and she has the eyes of youth but the weight upon her shoulders is that of age. or perhaps it is the other way around. perhaps she has the eyes of age, but upon her shoulder is the weightlessness of youth, of ignorance.

there she is, whatever she is.

her name is kana.

she is the daughter of a famous painter, known as juro. he is a man larger than life, and he paints wonderful things. he takes what is ugly, and makes it beautiful. he paints an unhandsome woman as a goddess, a sneering merchant as a king, a dirty city as a glowing capitol. he leaves all he touches brighter than it was found.

kana is not like her father.

she is a painter, but she is not famous. she has a mother she doesn’t speak to, and younger sister she visits as much as she can. she has pushed them both aside to follow her father, to sit with him in dirty shacks putting ink to paper as she does her best to make beautiful things. she throws off the expectations of her gender, of her station, of anything and everything in her pursuit to be a master painter.

technique is easy. she completes half of her father’s painting while he drinks, while he whores, while he seduces lords and ladies, while he paints empty things for empty people, while he leaves her alone in their dirty shacks. she can do the detail work, has a steady hand and a sharp eye, but when it comes to the whole picture – it is left lacking.

“her work lacks your beauty,” an old man says, talking to her old father while she kneels in the corner, ink staining her hands, the floor, ink just – staining.

“of course it does,” her father says, offhand. “how can she paint what she does not know?”

kana never expected lack of knowledge to be her downfall.

so that night when her father is gone, she does not stay in to work. instead kana paints her face, wears a kimono that’s too small on her, and goes to the worst part of the city, to where the alleyways and walls are stained red by the glow of the lanterns.

Keep reading

It’s Okay, I Hate Me Too. (Langst)

I posted this on AO3, but I decided to post it on here too because I love it so much ahah (also this is OOC)~

Being overlooked wasn’t a foreign feeling for Lance.

Back at the Garrison, he often heard a plethora of insults directed towards him, said by students and instructors alike. A lot of them from Iverson, the dude who oversaw the cadets. Man, he hated Iverson.

He happened to be strolling past a group of his peers. They were looking at him from the wall they were propped up against.

“Did you hear about that one guy Lance? He just failed his simulation test for the fifth time in a row.”

“Yeah, I did. The dude’s pathetic. How’d he even get accepted into the Garrison in the first place?”

“He only got into the fighter pilot class because Keith dropped out. I’m shocked Lance wasn’t the one to get dropped.”

“He can’t even handle the shit in the cargo pilot class. He’s pathetic.”

Lance just smiled. It’s okay, I hate me too.


“We’re going to have to visit the Worbla planet for some supply negotiations,”  Allura says, after shortly gathering all the paladins plus Coran for a meeting. “The Worblon are fairly nice aliens, so the negotiations should go fairly quickly. So be on your best behavior,” Her light tone disappears as her eyes land on Lance. The mood suddenly becomes more hostile. “Especially you, Lance. You stay in the back. I don’t want you messing this up.”

Lance lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Got it, princess.” Allura narrows her eyes even more. Great, she doesn’t trust me. I should’ve seen that coming, though.

The castle-ship lands on the planet. The Worblon gather around the paladins in awe, talking amongst themselves.

“Can you believe it?! It’s the paladins of Voltron!”

“Strong and mighty, strong and mighty.”

“Amazing!”

Allura gains a confident stature when the leader of the Worblon comes forward. They both go somewhere else to talk. Shiro and Keith have a private conversation. Pidge and Hunk had a ‘who can fit their fist into their mouth’ competition. Lance stood by himself until several aliens approached him.

“Excuse me,” The Worblon said, looking up at Lance. “Aren’t you the blue paladin of Voltron?”

Lance gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I am. I pilot one of the legs.” And I’m also the most overlooked member of Voltron…

“You’re not as uptight as the other members,” Another smiled. “I like that. You’re very lighthearted. I don’t think you get stressed in battle. The others are so serious, so scary. You’re, ah, cool.” Lance’s eyes lit up and he gave a genuine grin. This was the first compliment he’s ever received.

“Thank you.”

LANCE!” A voice screeched from behind him. He turned around and saw the fuming face of Allura stomping towards him. Her fists were balled up, and she had gritted teeth. The Worblon he talked to slowly backed away. Lance gulped. What did I do now?

“I specifically told you to stay in the back! What are you even doing?!” She yelled, and the other paladins looked at Lance. They all had the expression of “Jeez Lance, you already messed up?”.
“You’re messing things up again, aren’t you?!”

She turned towards the Worblon. “I apologize for whatever he did. He doesn’t seem to have any seriousness in his body.” The Worblon looked at her, confused.

“He didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, we were just complimenting him. You should be more like him, he’s very lighthearted compared to the serious faces of you guys.”

Allura just gave a forced smile and commanded all of the paladins to go back onto the castle-ship.


“Did you trick the Worblon or something?” Allura asked him later, during a meeting. “We all know the real you. You’re not the one to be complimented on.” Ouch.

“Yeah,” Pidge piped up. “You don’t take anything seriously. You don’t do well in battle either. What’s there to compliment?” The others laughed. Lance just bit his lip and exited the room. It’s okay, I hate me too.


Well, at least the Worblon were nice enough to compliment him.


Lance and the other paladins were currently in a battle with the Galra. Ships surrounded them.

“Pidge, use your invisibility cloak to get us close to the main ship. Keith and I will cover while you and Hunk shut down their ion cannons. Hopefully Pidge will get the information they need,” Shiro speaks from the com, but pauses. “Oh, and Lance, just don’t do anything stupid. We don’t need you goofing off and jeopardizing the mission.”

Lance sighed. “Got it.”

They all split up, each lion tackling their own problem. Lance just wandered around, carefully aiming the giant energy rifle on his lion to blast random Galra ships in his line of vision. He wanted to be careful, because if he fucked something up, then Shiro was going to scold and berate him while the other paladins looked at him with no pity.

Suddenly, the ion cannon blasted Blue, and she went spiraling off into space. Lance got dislodged from his seat and was hitting nearly every wall inside of Blue.

A weird-looking sheet of metal got lodged into Lance’s side. He screamed in pain, and he widened his eyes at the sight of the blood. Another piece of metal punctured Lance’s right eye. He saw a flash of blindingly bright light, and then darkness. He screamed his heart out, and then blacked.


When he woke up, he discovered that the inside of Blue looked like a crime scene. Blood was everywhere. He looked down at his armor to find out that it was damaged severely.

“You okay, Blue?” He rasped, and Blue responded with a purr. She was alright. “Good. ‘Cause I’m going to need you to fly us back to the castle-ship. She started moving.

He reached for his helmet and put it on, hoping to communicate with his teammates to signal that he strayed. Instead, he heard more slander.

“Lance screwed up again. “ Pidge.

“We clearly gave him instructions, how hard is it to follow them?” Keith.

“They were simple orders. I’m honestly kind of shocked.” Hunk.

“Don’t be. When he gets back, I’ll make sure to reprimand him for the trouble he’s caused.” Allura.

“I second that. He needs to learn to take things seriously. We’re saving the universe, this isn’t a board game.” Shiro.

Lance threw his helmet to the other side of the area. He felt tears coming out of his eyes, and he released a shaky breath. He tried his best to huddle into a ball. It’s okay, I hate me too.


Lance put Blue into her hangar and slowly limped into the halls of the castle. He was forced to perform an impromptu stitching on his side with a random first-aid kit he found because the wound was starting to become worse. His eye, however, was a different story. It was still bleeding, and the area around it was slightly swollen.

He heard the voices of his teammates coming from the meeting hall. Holding his side, he limped over to the door. He stopped when he heard the topic the teammates were talking about.

“Honestly, Lance is quite pathetic. He can’t hold off very well on his own, judging by his performance in this battle.”

“He didn’t get his beauty sleep,” A chorus of laughs echoed. “You know how terrible he gets without his beauty sleep. Or manicure, whatever.”

“He acts so much like a kid. How did his parents even deal with him? He’s in his late teens. I’m sure his family was glad when they heard the news of him moving out.”

“He’s a walking, talking disaster.”

Lance slowly opened the door and limped into the room. His teammates, Allura, and Coran gasped at the sight they saw. That was the first time he saw the look of sympathy directed towards him on their faces. He coughed, and blood splattered onto the floor. He gave a weak smile.

“It’s okay, I hate me too.”

After all the agony of the last couple of hours, the switch-back was surprisingly anticlimactic. A little light and then they just stood there. Valentine was immediately restrained by Jace and Luke, but Alec was frozen. He just stared at Magnus, who seemed shaken, but already his eyes started to regain their sparkle.

“Magnus?”, Alec whispered, nearly inaudible. Magnus looked up at Alec, careful relief showing on his face, before he went back to staring at his manicured and ringed fingers.

Alec sighed and strode towards him, stopping at the last moment, unsure. “Can I…?”, he asked, gesturing helplessly with his hands. Magnus nodded, looking up, and Alec hugged him tightly, burying his face in his hairline, kissing his temple and nuzzling his face. “I’m sorry, Magnus. I’m so, so sorry. I should have realized sooner, I….” “It’s ok, Alexander. You did realize, and you did save me. Just…don’t go.”

Alec nodded and kept holding onto Magnus, who in turn wrapped his arms around Alec’s waist, slightly pecking his neck rune and settling his face into the crook of Alec’s neck. Neither noticed the door closing behind the other Shadowhunters escorting Valentine back to his cell.

After a couple of minutes, Magnus mumbled softly: “Can you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone right now.” “Of course”, said Alec, “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.” At that Magnus finally lifted his head, his lips quirking up to a slight smirk, but his eyes gazing longingly at Alec. “Careful there, darling. I might never let you leave.” “I’m alright with that”

NEW DIRECTION

How Louis Tomlinson survived the break-up of the world’s biggest boy band and became his own man

The Observer Magazine 25 Jun 2017

Photographs ALEX BRAMALL Fashion editor HELEN SEAMONS

Coming out of a dissolving boy band must be a bit like being an entrant in one of those dystopian jungle fights –a Hunger Games- style event in which bandmates are scattered across an unknown terrain and challenged to slog their lonely route back to fame. Justin Timberlake, after NSync, enjoyed the unsporting edge of natural talent and crushed his former colleagues. Robbie Williams looked supreme in the Take That scrimmage, at least until Gary Barlow circled back, gathered up the other three, and made the fight a more compelling four- on- one. By the time One Direction announced they were to go on indefinite hiatus in 2015, many of us were familiar enough with the conventions of boy-band bloodsport to start picking favourites for the coming melee.

Harry Styles – charming, a grinner – was best placed to succeed on his own. Big-lunged Zayn Malik was already out of the band by that time and had used his head start to good effect, preparing a solo album that went to No 1. Liam Payne and Niall Horan – always second-tier members – were given middling chances. And ranked last in any serious analysis, the most fitfully appreciated member of One Direction, was Louis Tomlinson. Here was a combatant you might expect to find curled up in a fox hole on the battlefield, pale and chain-smoking.

It is in roughly this position I find the 25-yearold, one afternoon earlier this summer. Slender, tracksuited, a little wan under his manicured facial hair, Tomlinson sits on a garden bench outside the photographer’s studio and rewards himself with an entire pack of cigarettes. “I know, I know,” he says of the smoking. “It’s not great. But there’s so much hurry-up-and-wait in this job. It helps me get ready to go again.”

I’ve often wondered why the fringe members of boy bands do this to themselves. Why they gather themselves to “go again”. As Tomlinson acknowledges, in One Direction he was seen by some as “forgettable, to a certain degree”. “The others have always been… Like Niall, for example. He’s the most lovely guy in the world. Happy-go-lucky Irish, no sense of arrogance. And he’s fearless. There are times I’ve thought: ‘I’d have a bit of that.’ Zayn, back in the day. He could relate to me on a nerves level. In the first year we were both the least confident. But Zayn has a fantastic voice and for him it was always about owning that. Liam always had a good stage presence, same as Harry, they’ve both got that ownership. Harry comes across very cool. Liam’s all about getting the crowd going, doing a bit of dancing…” And then there’s you. “And then there’s me.” Tracks from Tomlinson’s solo record have been playing inside the studio. They’re modest, rather lovely pop songs that in their quiet way seem to acknowledge his underdog status. Tomlinson lights another cig. “You know I didn’t sing a single solo on the X Factor,” he says, recalling the time back in 2010, when One Direction were first put together as a band on the ITV reality show. “A lot of people can take the piss out of that. But when you actually think about how that feels, standing on stage every single week, thinking: ‘What have I really done to contribute here? Sing a lower harmony that you can’t really hear in the mix?” He guesses, smiling wryly, that in those months he was best known as “The kid wearing espadrilles, stood in’t back.”

Not the best singer, not the high-energy guy, not the dude, Tomlinson discovered he was the one in the band who was most tuned into backstage logistics – the one who paid attention when “the 20th approval form” was passed around for a signature. “And if there was any bad news that needed giving to the label I’d always be designated to have the argument.” Later this would lead to Tomlinson founding a small record label of his own, Triple String, and to starting a side project managing a girl band. In his day job with One Direction, meanwhile, he toured the world, released five albums and amassed a large, equal-parts fortune like the rest of the boys. Somewhere en route, Tomlinson says, he found his feet as a performer. “In the last year of One Direction I was probably the most confident I ever was. And then it was: ‘OK, hiatus!’”

Tomlinson argued against it, he says, when the band first sat down to discuss separation. “It wasn’t necessarily a nice conversation. I could see where it was going.” Tomlinson remembers his instinctive assumption being simple. He would step away – try writing for other people, keep his label going, wait the “two years, five years, whatever it be” until One Direction reformed. “If you’d asked me a year or 18 months ago: ‘Are you going to do anything as a solo artist?’ I’d have said absolutely not.”

What changed? If the management stuff made you happy, I say, why not sit back and focus on that? “But then I’d be conceding,” he says. Conceding to who? To what? He waves his hand in the air. He could mean anything:

Niall is the most lovely guy, Zayn has the voice, Harry is very cool, Liam gets the crowd going… And then there’s me

I honestly think they’ll write books about One Direction fans. They are so fanatical. The intensity. It’s remarkable

history, bandmates, doubters, the press. Tomlinson is quiet for a while and eventually says: “I’m trying to work out why it is that I’m [doing this], now that you’ve asked that question.” He fidgets and trials a few answers that run out of steam. “It’s frustrating, because I know what I want to say and I can’t articulate it.” He pats for his lighter. The odds are against this tilt, Tomlinson seems to understand. But as we start to talk through his reasons for at least trying, I find myself hoping that this Last Directioner makes an unlikely go of it after all.

pop industry has an ineREASON ONE . TH E luctable momentum, and the star who begins something ( like a skier inching off a hilltop) can quickly find themselves bound to ride out whatever thrills and trials comes next. Tomlinson gives the example of how he first became famous. Born in Doncaster in 1991 he was raised by his mother, Johannah Deakin, and later also by her new partner Mark Tomlinson. He was 16 when he went to his first X

Factor audition. Prompt rebuff. A year later he made it into the audition process, but still nowhere near the part where ambitious young singers are briskly embraced or condemned by that great gatekeeper of celebrity, Simon Cowell. In 2010 Tomlinson, twice unlucky, gave the auditions a final try.

“I told myself I’ve just got to get to Simon, get his opinion, that’s all my ambition was. Then all of a sudden everything changed. To my friends in Doncaster I would always say [getting into the band] was the most incredible thing that happened to me. And it was. But it happened when I was already having the best year of my life. I was 17, 18, just started driving, didn’t need fake ID any more, going to house parties. That’s the time. That’s the age. And to a certain degree… ‘Having it taken away’ is the wrong phrase. But there was a price to pay.”

He says his current efforts as a soloist came about in similar fashion. In 2016, Tomlinson had become a father. (His son, Freddie, “who I love so much”, was born after a brief relationship with a Californian stylist called Briana Jungwirth.) He had some other personal matters to work through and in the summer he went on holiday to Las Vegas to blow off steam. At a club the American DJ Steve Aoiki was playing. Tomlinson, giddy with delight from Aoiki’s set, suggested to the DJ they try writing something together. In career terms, he had inched off the hill again, without necessarily considering the gradient of the slope.

A few months later, Tomlinson says, a single he’d written with Aoiki was being rolled out for release through One Direction’s old record label, Syco. Tomlinson was booked in to perform it on live TV. “And I was, like: ‘Did I really think this through?’”

Which leads Tomlinson to reason two. He’s well aware he was fast-tracked into his music career. That, as a part of One Direction, he was only a piece of a “heavy machine”. And as a self-aware northerner, from a proudly working class family, this has left Tomlinson with residual guilt to answer about wealth and status that do not feel to him fully earned. “And I know, I know it sounds ungrateful. But I think about a man, on a nine-to-five, working his arse off for six months so he can go to his family and say: ‘Guys, I’m taking you to Disneyland.’ That moment… I’ll never have that in my family life. And I’ve worked hard. But I’ve never worked hard, not like that.”

Tomlinson says he has already sweated more for this record than any before. When you’re putting together material as a soloist, he says, you quickly learn that those hot-shot collaborators who once dribbled to work with One Direction no longer pick up the phone

so readily. “I couldn’t say to you now that I could definitely get a superstar writer in a session with me. And I understand that.” Tomlinson adds, with no real vinegar: “Harry won’t struggle with any of that.”

In their One Direction days, no question, Styles got the most attention. But all the boys had their devotees and Tomlinson wants to prove to his own fans – reason three – that he’s been worth the backing all these years. “I honestly think they’ll write books about One Direction fans,” Tomlinson says. “Because they are so fanatical. The intensity. It’s remarkable.”

Tomlinson cannot talk about it with me, not without getting into muddy legal waters, but there was recently a difficult episode involving a small crowd of fans at an airport in LA. He was travelling with his partner, Eleanor Calder, who is viewed with some distrust by the fiercest corps of Louis fans. Video footage seems to show Calder being surrounded and attacked by a group of girls. Tomlinson, unable to discuss the matter, says to me more generally that he hopes his new music will reveal to fans a more complete version of himself than before. “Honestly, it’s crazy. It’s hard for a lot of people who are fanatical to believe that you are a real entity and a person.”

Which brings us to reason four. Reason four Tomlinson discusses with caution. Reason four he enshrouds with disclaimers: that it is not his intention to tell “a sob story”, that “I don’t like people feeling sorry for me”. Reason four concerns his mum.

Johannah Deakin was diagnosed with leukaemia in early 2016. Tomlinson had been worried his luck would run out; that having been “dealt that amazing hand” to squeak into the last berth in One Direction, he was due some sort of equalising blow. And he gives a bleak little laugh when he recalls where he was when the terrible phone call came. “At Jamie Vardy’s wedding of all places. Talk about your places, for something super-traumatic. My mum told me, uh, yeah, that she was definitely terminal.”

They were unusually close. He recalls how she was often one step ahead “because she had the password to my email”. It was an intimacy he attributes to them being close in age. “I remember the day I lost my virginity. I hadn’t even told any of my mates and I was, like: ‘Mum? I know this is really weird. But I’ve got to tell you…’ I remember thinking this is a bizarre conversation to be having with your mother. But it’s testament to how comfortable she made me.”

When Deakin died, in December 2016, Tomlinson was only days away from the live gig he’d agreed to do on the X Factor. “I remember saying to her: ‘Mum, how the fuck do you expect me to do this now?’ And she didn’t swear much, my mum. She’d always tell me off for swearing. And this time she was like: ‘You’ve got to fucking do it, it’s as simple as that.’ It was football manager, team talk stuff.’” The footage of Tomlinson’s performance that weekend is hard to watch. When he first appears on the X Factor stage he looks rigid, almost plastic, with grief. He’s clearly able to lose himself in the three-minute drama of a pop song. And after that the colour drains right back out of his face.

Tomlinson smokes for a bit. He says: “I’m not gonna claim this is all for me mum. But it was definitely… It was…”

He thinks. Throughout his life, he says, his mum always had greater belief in him than he did. “Sometimes my reservation, or my confidence, might have prevented me from doing something. And I’ve needed a mum in the past to kick me up the arse and go: ‘You’re doing it.’”

The boy bander has his reasons, then. “I’ve enjoyed this,” he says. “An opportunity to talk super openly. Not, y’know, answer questions about who my favourite superhero is. I don’t feel I get that many chances.”

The pile of cigarette butts in front of him has mounted to quite a height. Tomlinson, seeming to notice it for the first time, mutters: “Sorry. I’ve been chaining.” His mum hated smoking, he says. Then he smiles. “Though I remember she had the occasional cigarette herself.”

He taps his lighter on the table and asks what I make of everything he’s said. “Do you think your readers are still gonna wonder: ‘Why doesn’t he just not do it?’”

I’m not sure, I tell him, trying to be honest. But let’s see.

The day I lost my virginity, I hadn’t even told any of my mates, and I was, like: ‘Mum? I know this is weird but I’ve got to tell you…’

Louis’s new single ‘Back To You’ featuring Bebe Rexha and Digital Farm Animals is coming soon

A Reason to Hope by @bucks-metal-fate | BuckyNat Mini Bang 2017

Through a mix of kisses and moans, Natasha managed out, “Second door on the right,” against his mouth, and he wasted no time carrying her over the threshold and into her bedroom. The elusive black cat looked on from her dresser as Bucky lay Natasha gently on her bed, pushing the dress up and pulling it over her head, relishing in the view of her curves in the light from the moon and the street lamps that illuminated her room. The black bra that her breasts spilled out of just right, down her trim stomach to the black panties that he needed to do away with first. But as she lay sprawled out on her bed, reaching for him, another small rough spot caught his eye down on her left side, just a few inches away from her navel.

Bucky slipped off the suit coat he was still wearing, tossing it away before he dropped to his knees, hovering over her abdomen. “And this?” he asked quietly, voice deep as he ran two flesh fingers over the mark.

“Outside Odessa, eight years ago. Slug went right through me,” she explained in as few words as possible, her eyes never leaving his face as she tried to figure out his thoughts. He traced the lines, as if memorizing them.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again through emotion, his eyes shining in the moonlight as he dropped his lips to the scar, giving it the same treatment he gave the other. He traced it with his tongue, caressed it with his lips, listening to her mewl as he drove her mad with his touch. His heart ached for knowing he had hurt her twice so violently, not to mention the way they were separated back after the Red Room. Making up for all the pain and lost time, that was all he wanted to do.

Natasha couldn’t stop squirming under his lips. The scars were so sensitive, a mixture of numbness and oversensitivity making his ministrations all that more welcome and overwhelming. She clawed at his shoulders with her manicured nails, pulled at his hair in a way that made him groan and only encouraged him lower.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and this time Natasha chose to take a different route, because she knew otherwise her heart would break for him.

“Then make it up to me, lover boy,” Natasha gave him a light smirk and spread her thighs wide, giving him no question as to just what she wanted from him. And despite the emotion in his eyes, the way his lips turned up slightly told her she hadn’t lost him.

AO3 | TUMBLR

Better Babysitter (TG/AP)

              Jimmy and Kyle were sulking in their room, waiting for their annoying babysitter to arrive. Their parents had gone out for the night and called the babysitter over on short notice. The boys hated their babysitter; she never let them play video games or watch the movies they wanted to, and she always made them go to bed super early. They’d do anything to get rid of her, and thankfully Kyle had swiped a shriveled monkey’s paw from the flea market his parents had taken them to last weekend. He had heard the old woman selling the monkeys paws talking about their wish-granting abilities, so he grabbed one when she wasn’t looking and planned to use it to get rid of their current babysitter. He pulled it out from beneath his bed and showed it to his brother.

              “Hey, Jimmy, check this out. This thing is supposed to be able to grant wishes, so I’m gonna wish for a new babysitter!”

              “Haha, okay,” Jimmy said, scoffing at the thought. He was younger than Kyle, but he considered himself more realistic than his older brother. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Make the wish.”

              “You just watch, little bro,” Kyle said, holding up the monkey’s paw. “I wish we had a babysitter that let us do whatever we wanted!”

              The words of Kyle’s wish echoed in the room, surprising the boys. Suddenly, the monkey’s fist closed and disintegrated into dust. The dust slipped through Kyle’s fingers and began to swirl around the room before enveloping Jimmy. Jimmy screamed as the dust moved faster around him, tearing his clothes and transforming them into a plain, white garment that looked suspiciously like a dress.

              “What’s happen- ack!” As soon as Jimmy opened his mouth, the dust flooded into him and caused him to cough and gag. He fell onto his back as he caught his breath again, sputtering out puffs of dust with a few coughs. “What did that thing do to me?”

              “I, uh, I don’t know. Are you okay?”

              “Yeah, I think. But what’s with my cloth- ooohhhh!” Jimmy began to moan as he felt his chest begin to tingle. The two boys looked at Jimmy’s chest as it began to expand. He threw his arms up as his bones began to crack, growing longer and wider, and leaving him with a torso that looked like it belonged to someone much older than he was. His moans grew louder and more feminine as two mounds of flesh began to protrude from his chest. With a sudden burst, he thrust his chest forward as two sizable breasts grew beneath his enlarging nipples. The boys stared at Jimmy’s ample new cleavage as Jimmy continued to moan, his new breasts sending unknown pleasures coursing through his maturing body.

              “Why is this happening?” Jimmy screamed, noticing how much older, yet girly, he sounded.

              “I don’t know! I’m sorry!” Kyle yelled in panic. “I’m so sorr-“

              “OW!” Jimmy yelled as his legs began to ache. He kicked his legs out in pain as they extended slightly. He felt another tingling coming from his crotch as it began to retract between his legs. It felt uncomfortable and pleasurable at the same time. His heart began to race as his thrashing body caused his breasts to bounce and jiggle on his chest. The sensations coming from his crotch and chest began to blend together, sending more orgasmic feelings coursing through his body. He couldn’t help but moan even more as he continued to grow older and sexier. He felt his boy parts slip between his legs as a fleshy clit took form, growing damper by the second. His legs were still aching though, and combined with the pleasure coursing through his body, the sensations flowing through him caused him to convulse and kick his legs violently as they snapped and extended. Each kick added a few inches to his height, while at the same time inflating his ass. He felt his behind grow enough to raise his lower back off the floor, his spine cracking and taking on a feminine arch as he grew.

              He looked at his brother as he continued to grow older and more feminine. He wanted to cry for help, but as he opened his mouth, all that came out was a feminine moan.

              “Hu…huuuuuuumph…” Jimmy moaned between breaths. Kyle couldn’t help but notice how sultry his little brother sounded now. Kyle himself was just hitting puberty, so seeing his younger brother turning into such an attractive specimen was making Kyle exceedingly confused and uncomfortable.

              “Jimmy, I’m so sorry…” Kyle said on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t have stolen that thing. This is my fault.”

              Jimmy wanted to say something to his brother, but he felt his face beginning to change as his mind began to grow foggy. He felt his hair grow down his neck and tickle his back, turning a dark blonde in the process. His eyes widened and slanted as they took on a sultry, alluring appearance. His lips thinned out as his nose cracked and shrank a bit, planting itself cutely about his mouth. His face tingled as makeup applied itself to his mature new face. He had aged well into his twenties in a matter of minutes, and as his new reproductive system flooded his body with new hormones, he began to have entirely alien thoughts. He felt his new clit grow damp as memories of cute guys hitting on him entered his mind. His memories of being the best student in school became memories of being the sexist girl in school. He wanted to fight it, but as images of jocks fucking him in the locker room after school flooded his mind, he began to give in. His clit was so wet and so sensitive, and as he slowly began to rub it with a manicured hand, his name began to fade. Jimmy slowly turned into Jade as memories of going to college and meeting her boyfriend formed in the new girl’s mind. She quickly came and screamed in orgasm as Jimmy embraced his new identity. The new girl leaned up and stood over Kyle. She stared at the young boy ogling her exposed crotch and smirked.

              She only took this babysitting job for the easy money, and at least this little brat never gave her any trouble.

              “My boyfriend is coming over tonight, so I’m gonna go get changed.” She said with an authoritative tone. “You can play video games or watch TV or whatever. I don’t care. Just don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency. And don’t tell your parents, unless you want me to take your video games away.”

              “Ji- Jimmy? Are you still in there?” Kyle said hesitantly. “Please, little bro…” Jade didn’t respond. She simply walked into another room and began to change into a bikini for her boyfriend. This kid’s parents were loaded and had a pool in the backyard, so she and her boyfriend were going to have a ball with their private pool for the night. She loved her job, and while Kyle was still confused and traumatized by what he just witnessed, at least his wish was fulfilled. Just not exactly how he expected it, or wanted it, to be.  

Lup and Taako notice one day that Barry will eat legit anything, so they decide to test it with the spiciest dish they’ve ever made.

Barry takes a bite and instead of registering the spicy taste, he only notices that holy shit does his mouth hurt, is he allergic to… what is this? Spicy??

The twins realize that Barry just has… no sense of smell, meaning he cant taste anything. He never told them because he was afraid they would be disappointed. He eats anything they give him to make sure they’re happy, even if he doesn’t really know what it is

partially inspired by @whyisbarrybannedfromthekitchen  and Barry’s horrible, horrible food choices.

Full story under cut!

“Taako, you ever notice how Barry will just eat, like, anything we give him?”

Taako is busy with his newly polished manicure Magnus gave him not ten minutes ago. Staring at his cuticles, he responds, “isn’t the whole uh, the whole goal of cooking to like, to have them eat everything? Cuz its good?” Lime green is a good color for him, he thinks.

“Dude Barry is different though. He’s like a trash compactor with the decency to take it’s time and thank the chef. He’s never turned anything of mine down, I think he’ll eat anything, really.”

“I’ve heard your bedroom at night, that man will eat anything.”

They both high five, Taako doing so carefully as not to smudge the fresh polish. Not really like they had a UV light on this tin can.

“But seriously, it makes me wonder-”

“-If he has a limit?” Taako grabs the second half of her sentence. “Lup I may be dense, but I can read your face like an open book cuz we got the same mug dawg. You’ve got an experiment churning in that noggin so spill.”

Lup spends the next ten minutes describing all the meals she’s made within the last week for Barry. One included chocolate pudding with cilantro and garlic in it, to which he ate and complimented its smoothness. Second was a light salad with maple syrup dressing, which was slightly difficult but he didn’t complain. The next was a pasta dish where she substituted marinara for hot ketchup, which he adored the consistency of. And lastly,

“No… No he DIDN’T…!” Taakos eyebrows are raised and he sits back a little, hand to his chest and mouth agape.

“Yep, he ate oreos with toothpaste instead of creme in the middle.”

“That sick bastard…!”

“Taako he didn’t even flinch! I was terrified of the man I love as he proceed to eat my three trick cookies from the sleeve I gave him, then continue to the others without a reaction! So that got me thinking. Is it like a switch? Has he just never learned whats right and wrong on the food spectrum? Is there an end to this?“

“You wanna figure out how much he can take?”

“But what could be worse than what I gave him? The ketchup and pasta one was the most heinous creation I’ve ever concocted.”

“What, uh. What about reactions to, to food that are like the extreme of the spectrum?”

“What, like give him something super sour? He eats lemons instead of an orange with his cereal.”

Taako gags but continues, “nah nah sour is hard to work with. What if we… turned up the heat a little bit, eh?” THAT gets her attention.

That night the twins cook the spiciest meal of their lives. Every chili pepper under the sun go into this curry they’ve made, skipping over caution labels of bottles and suggestions. When they’ve finished, they can’t even look at it without their eyes watering.

Lup calls for Barry in the lab that dinner is ready. She knows he’s been busy so he usually eats while working, but he always makes sure to try a few bites before leaving to show Lup how much he appreciated everything she does.

“Hi Lu, hey Taako, this looks lovely! You’ve both been kinda quiet and Taako doesn’t usually help with one person meals, is something up?”

“Nah honey bunches just some good family bonding. I know you’re busy, but make sure you eat it while it’s hot.”

Taako snickers, vaguely whispering about how it’ll take a lot more than a few minutes to have it not be hot. Lup gives him a swift elbow jab to the ribs and he stifles his laugh into a cough.

“Sure, thanks babe.” He smiles warmly at her and gives her a long kiss to the cheek, and for a moment doubt flashes in her mind. As he pulls away though, the fork is already to his mouth.

Taako leans across the counter to watch and Lup almost tells him to stop, but her curiosity overwhelms her as Barry makes no reaction to the spice.

“As always Lup you never fail to make a delicious- hey why does my mouth… my mouth, hurts?” He looks at them, talking with his tongue hanging out and gasping for air, “guys my mouth kinda huwts, it might be an allergic reaction? Is my epi pen anywhere close by?? Or something cold at least, it feels like I’ve been burned!”

“Barry have you never had spicy food before?” Taako asks wide eyed and unblinking, making no motion to help him. Lup has already rounded the counter towards the fridge for some water.

“W-what no, I l-love spicy food, haha that’s like my favorite stuff! Not sure what this is though, is this made of pop rocks?” His tongue still hangs out of his mouth now as he’s sweating.

“Barry, you’re EATING spicy food.”

There’s a pause as Barry looks down at his plate. Lup has stopped pouring him some water now as both twins look at him with concerned eyes.

“Babe,” Lup starts, “do you have a sense of taste?”

“I…I, yes? Technically, yes. Yeah, I’ve got a sense of taste, how else could I… love your cooking?” He’s breathing is a bit heavier now, “I…I wouldn’t be able to compliment or love it otherwise… see? Like this…” Barry goes to lift his fork again and Lup stops him, holding his hand down and looking into his eyes.

“You could have told me, babe why didn’t you say anything?” There’s no hurt in her eyes, only concern for the human.

Barry sighs and puts the fork down. Taking the glass of water he hands her, he finally says “because I CAN taste things, I just don’t have a sense of smell. This curry is the first thing I’ve actually tasted in a long time, but it was kinda overridden by… pain? I think it was just pain, not really a flavor… But Lup I loved it, really I-“

“Barry.” He shuts up. “You not being able to taste my cooking isn’t anything I care about. I cook because you look happy when you eat it. I just want you to be happy and that’s it, babe.”

Barry looks like he’s going to say something when he’s overwhelmed by the spiciness again and takes a sip of water, prompting them both to laugh again.

“So no WONDER he kept eating all that weird shit! He didn’t know it was weird!” The happy couple is reminded they’re not alone when Taako interjects, “oh thank god, now I don’t have to disown you for eating salad with maple syrup!”

“Wait, I ate what?” He looks up at Lup through the corners of his eyes.

“Uh.”

anonymous asked:

For the jensen chronicles. Have you done one about *whispers* his freckles?

*gASP* HOW DARE U BRING THIS INTO MY OWN HOUSE

[x] okay listen, i want to Die bc this noodle is dusted with so many lil sun kisses

[x] he’s got them all over his body, and doesn’t that just make u wanna !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *clenches fist*

[x] s9 was a fucka gr8 season for jensen’s freckles. they were the star of the season, if u ask me. he was Extra tanned and freckly and alsdkgh can u hear me screaming

[x] let’s walk thru this, shall we? yeah, let’s take a little tour. *jenna marbles voice* fACE TOUR!! I shall now proceed to point out all the smol, intimate places in which the sun has kissed my boi jensen. *clears throat aggressively*

[x] eYeLiD fReCkLeS!!! such tender, thin skin with pretty lil freckles!!!!! (also, his eyelashes are so long and thick, i’m jealous)

[x] tHe nOse anD eAR fRecKLes omf, they’re so smol and delicate ;~;

[x] LI P F RE KLCES ?!?!?!!! how they get there!!!

SHOULDER FRECKLES, OH M YG O D

LOOK AT THEM KNUCKLE FRECKLES ON THEM BIG OLE SAUSAGE FINGERS HhhHhHhh

more hand freckles, ft his perfectly manicured nails

even mOAR HAND FRECKLES, BC I CAN’T HALP MYSELF

[x] forearm freckles, bitch 👀

[x] okay can I just say how much I love those two darker ones on his left upper arm tho :”))

that one freckle on his left peck toward the center of his chest!!!!!!!

[x] nEcK aNd CHeS t fR ECkL eS! ! !!! (plus and also chest hair)

[x] full disclosure, my favorite freckle he has is that dark one right in the dip of his throat. you can’t have it as your fave now, it’s mine and I’ve claimed the rights to it

[x] tldr; I could identify this man by one (1) single freckle alone, and that is fact.

Title: kick with the fray
Rating: T
Word Count: 1638 words
Summary: Phil will laugh about this later. Maybe. Probably. (Not.)
Notes: Written for @nihilist-toothpaste​​​​​​, who requested jealous!Phil, for my thirty minute fics for charity fundraiser to benefit Puerto Rico. 

[read on AO3]

Phil’s shin hurts from banging into the costuming booth and his pride hurts from the sharp voiced words the woman manning it through at him and his dignity hurts from Dan and Anthony both laughing at him.

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Leave This Town Pt 10 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Tony Stark, Brock Rumlow. Steve, DumDum Dugan and Peter Parker mentioned.

Summary: After leaving the small town life behind, you’ve worked hard to make your dreams come true. When something unexpected brings you home, you’re brought back to the place where everything changed. Timing is everything and now there just might be a second chance with the man you left behind.

Song Inspiration: Angela by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff, mild angst. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.9k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Aaah!! I’m so excited about this part! :D Please let me know your thoughts, I always love to hear from you. <3

<<<Part Nine   Part Ten   Part Eleven>>> 

Leave This Town Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

____________________________________________________

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

Previously:

“I’ll call you before I leave town,” you promised, wishing there was more you could guarantee him.

“Okay,” he replied, ducking his head into the car for one last lingering kiss.

You pulled out of the parking lot and glanced in the rearview mirror to see Bucky still standing there as he raised a hand in goodbye. But it didn’t feel like a farewell this time. Somehow, it felt like only the beginning.

_____________

“I’m still not sold on the ending,” your agent stated as he dropped your manuscript on his desk with a thump. He sat back in his chair while drumming fingers on the desktop next to his computer. “Casting is almost finished, they start filming in two weeks, and I don’t have a finished script.”

“You DO have a finished script, Tony. Just not the conclusion you want. I tried other endings and none of them seemed genuine. This ending is the most organic and it’s where the characters took me. You know how it is, sometimes they have a mind of their own,” you replied with a shrug.

He narrowed his eyes, stroking his well-manicured goatee. “You know you sound like a crazy person when you talk like that, right?”

You laughed. “Not to my fellow writers.”

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Black and White (Part 1)

Dean is a mechanic, running an illegal chop shop on the side to pay for his baby brother’s college tuition. Castiel is a local photojournalist who just so happens to catch Dean on film stealing a car.

Dean convinces Cas not to turn him in, and sparks fly.

But what happens when Cas appears to be involved with a rival group? Can Dean trust him at all? Or does Cas already know enough to ruin him?

Word Count: 3250

Warnings: None yet

A/N: Feedback appreciated! This is an AU that’s a little different, so I hope y’all enjoy this one!


There’s nothing left to do for the day, and Dean’s just about to lock up when a woman walks in, walking briskly and looking a little flustered, like most people who’ve just had unexpected car trouble.

“And what can I do for you?” Dean asks, eyeing her as she sets her purse on the counter. Pretty, but a little too upscale for his taste, with her manicured nails and name-brand everything.

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Doll (B.Barnes)

Doll

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst(?), swearing, Bucky being an idiot, jealous Bucky possibly


A filler until I publish my next smut, enjoy xo



At first, everybody thought it was a fluke. It had to be, that’s the only way this thing made sense. It was a simple slip of the mind, nothing uncommon for Bucky.

But when Bucky didn’t make a move to correct himself.. that’s when things got confusing. 

Nat thought he mustn’t have noticed when he called the pretty brunette at the bar ‘Doll’. Wanda thought he was a little tipsy, despite knowing very well that was an impossible thing. But Y/N, well.. Y/N knew it was no mistake, no slip of the tongue. 

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Lovesick Syndrome

Bucky x Reader

Summary: The harder it is to deny yourself your soulmate, the sicker you become. Soulmate!AU

Word Count: 2.7k+

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, kinda anti-nat (still love her tho), fluff, everybody is sick yo

N/A: HEY GUYS!! I got inspiration and i came up with this! enjoy!!

Originally posted by metal-armed-jesus


It all started when Natasha came into the Compound after Steve and ‘his’ team returned from hiding in Wakanda. She came sauntering in with a stunning man on her arm. He had thick, dark, brown hair and gorgeous sea blue eyes. He wore a thick, black leather jacket with a dark blue Henley. He was absolutely breathtaking. He took her breath away with just the small smile he gave her when she politely introduced herself.

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