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laxmiree · 8 months

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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Warm Fragrance Date translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Arriving As Promised Free SR Event | Prologue+Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6-9 | Warm Fragrance Date (You're here!)

"I think, rather than a good little assistant, it's more accurate to say that MC is a very talented gardener lady."

"Huh? Why do you say that?"

Lucien doesn't directly answer my question, instead, he pulls my hand and places it on the location of his heart.

I immediately understood the words he didn't say.

"This beautiful flower continues to grow, connecting all the veins that are linked to you."

[T/N: VERY RECOMMENDED to read the event story first because some convo on this date will make more sense if you read the event stories first]

[Date – Video ver]

youtube

(T/N: As always, I always recommend watching the video for a more comprehensive experience.

If the direct video doesn’t work - [Use this link]

(Besides, tumblr doesn’t allow us to use an old text editor anymore so I can’t add up more than 30 pics in this post. Tumblr post alone won’t capture the change in background and sprite as usual(for reference I always have like 60+ pic in one post LOL)

[Date – Transcript ver]

[Part 1]

The gentle morning sunlight pours down, passing through the vines on the wall, casting specks of light and shadow.

I look around, and as far as my eyes can see, various types of plants occupy my surroundings. However, I don't catch sight of Lucien's figure amidst the lushness.

MC: …Is Lucien not here?

I double-check his text message, then I put down the jasmine flower pot I've planted and the "OPEN" wooden sign. Afterward, I turn around and walk deeper into the greenhouse.

Today is the official opening day of the "Flower Shop." Perhaps 'Shop Manager' Lucien is currently preparing in some corner.

Following the path through the greenhouse, I continue forward. The comfortable temperature in the air makes me feel as if I'm in an oasis.

Under the towering green plants in front of me, dozens of calla lilies are cozily undergoing photosynthesis.

Next to the one blooming the most vibrantly, there's a label that reads "Reserved." My fingertips brush against that familiar handwriting, and I mutter softly.

MC: Miss X?

MC: ...I can't believe there's a reservation already.

[A throwback to Dance SP MQ and main story Dr. X :"]

I can't help but sigh, and I bend down to carefully observe these well-taken-care-of plants and flowers.

The snow-white petals of the calla lilies bloom brilliantly, and the leaves stretch energetically. The red and yellow tulips nestle against each other as if even the falling patches of light have become gentle.

??: Have you been here for a while? Why didn't you call out to me?

A familiar voice sounds behind me, and I quickly turn around.

The sunlight filters through the glass roof and falls upon Lucien, outlining a faint halo of light around his figure.

His white shirt appears exceptionally bright amidst the lush surroundings. His collar is unbuttoned, and he casually rolls up his sleeves, revealing his slender forearms.

The blue work apron he's wearing is loosely tied, and he doesn't seem to have noticed. A warm smile graces the corner of his lips.

With the jasmine pot I had just set down in his arms, he slightly bends forward and reaches out to hang the wooden sign on a nail above the railing.

This version of Lucien catches me off guard, and I find myself laughing with a belated realization.

MC: Pfft.

Lucien: (laughs, then playfully says) It seems my outfit is indeed a bit funny, isn't it?

MC: Of course not, "Shop Manager Lucien" is much more handsome than I imagined!

Lucien: Oh? Is that so?

Lucien slowly approaches me, and as his familiar scent envelops me, my heart rate instinctively quickens a little faster.

Lucien: (chuckles) So, can you tell me, what did you imagine 'Manager Lucien' to be like before?

MC: Manager Lucien's appearance right now has completely erased any other imagined images I had in my mind.

I hook my arm around Lucien's neck, a smile playing on my lips.

MC: Right now, my heart and eyes are filled with just the one before me.

I retie the loosely knotted apron behind him smoothly. But as I start to pull my hand back, he captures it in his grasp.

The next second, a gentle kiss carrying the scent of grass lands softly on my lips. Before my eyes could fully close, all that was left in my vision were those eyes brimming with joy.

Lucien removed his glasses at some point, and the gentleness in his eyes reflected my gradually reddening cheeks clearly.

Lucien: (whispers) Everyone else is busy in other greenhouses. Today, there are only the two of us here.

He slightly increases the distance between us, his brows and eyes curved.

Lucien: I remember that a lady once said that on the day she visits my "garden," she would buy the most beautiful flower from me.

MC: I remember that. I won't easily back down from my promise.

Lucien: Then, how about becoming my assistant? Consider it as payment for the flowers you intend to buy.

I tiptoe and peck his cheek on the side.

MC: Of course I'm willing to.

[Part 2]

As we walk through the corridor built with flowering vines from the entrance hall, the floral fragrance becomes even more rich and fragrant.

Lucien leads me through the corridor, and a lounge surrounded by flower walls comes into view. A row of bookshelves and an innovative instrument sit quietly in the corner.

Lucien: This is a newly introduced instrument from the Bioscience research center. It can measure various values of the brain's nervous system to detect the brain health of residents.

Curiously, I approach the instrument, looking around with keen interest.

MC: Can brain health really be determined using these two lines on top?

Lucien: If you're curious, you can put it on and give it a try.

Lucien noticed my eagerness and took the instrument's wires, guiding me to position my head correctly.

Lucien: Bring this wire over here, and place this device on here…

Following Lucien's guidance, I carefully placed the device from the instrument's wire onto my head.

Lucien: Now, let's take a look at Visitor MC's brain health, shall we?

MC: …Um!

I stare at the screen intently, and after a while, a green curve with a centered slope appears on the display.

MC: How is it?

Lucien: Hmm…

MC: I-Is it very bad?

Lucien: (chuckle) Very healthy.

MC: Phew…

MC: Back then, you were worried I might not adapt well, but the truth is, my "vitality" is quite resilient as well.

Lucien: How come I remember that it was a certain lady who was more concerned about me at the time?

Lucien: You prepared all sorts of emergency medicines for me, yet you only brought a small amount for yourself.

MC: Well, that might be because I've been eating well, sleeping well, and thinking about you a lot…

Lucien: From a medical perspective, perhaps "thinking about me a lot" played the most significant role.

MC: Although you're right, 'Professor Lucien' shouldn't go against medical principles just to prove the importance of "thinking about you".

Lucien places his hand on the top of my head and proceeds to explain seriously.

Lucien: Medical studies have confirmed that positive emotions, or good moods, are beneficial for brain neurons.

Lucien: I believe this 'Professor Lucien' hasn't gone against medical principles.

Lucien: People, scenery, animals, objects... all can serve as triggers for positive emotions.

Lucien: Including the plants we are cultivating now, it's all for studying the effects of different species on brain neurons.

MC: Does that mean that even for the same species, the experience could be different for different people?

Lucien: Exactly. The factors underlying the generation of positive emotions vary from person to person, and the feelings evoked by the same external factors can be completely different.

MC: Hmm... just like how I feel happy when I drink sweet milk tea, and Professor Lucien feels happy when savoring a cup of tea?

Seemingly amused by the interesting analogy, Lucien chuckles softly.

Lucien: (chuckles softly) Yes and no.

Lucien: If we slightly modify the reference in the comparison to "savoring tea alone and drinking milk tea with MC," for me, the latter naturally brings more happiness.

MC: Oh~ So the Great Professor's sweet words must also vary from person to person, right?

Lucien: Hmm... Not exactly.

Lucien: To be precise, I'm only like this with you.

I can't help but raise my lips; a kind of subtle tenderness seems to be quietly emerging from the depths of my heart, making me feel light and I can't help but indulge in it.

MC: I'm only like this with you too.

The conversation is interrupted by the hum of the instrument, and the fluctuation in the green curve produces new monitoring data for the device.

MC: Huh? Is there a new change?

Lucien: Mm, it seems that at this very moment, this little lady is happier than before.

The rising curve on the screen dances exuberantly as if it wants to reveal my thoughts in full detail.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I remove the device, afraid that the next moment it might detect those beautiful feelings in my heart once again.

MC: Alright, alright, I admit that indeed "thinking about you" played a significant role.

MC: So... Professor Lucien, do you think about me a lot too?

Lucien: Yes. Because I miss you so much, it feels as if the flowering period is endless.

Lucien's gaze softens, and the corners of his eyes curve like a gentle spring, causing the humidity in the greenhouse to quietly evaporate, filling the room with a sweet fragrance.

[Part 3]

After becoming familiar with the structure of the greenhouse, Lucien guided me through the final preparations before the official opening.

Since he has already completed most of it, my next task is to transplant the calla lilies into the flower bed.

Lucien: Here are these new gloves for you, and take this too.

Lucien hands over a brand new pair of gloves and then takes out a beige headscarf, naturally tucking my hair behind as he ties it on me.

His slightly warm fingertips inadvertently graze the back of my neck, creating a subtle and ticklish sensation.

Lucien: Hmm, you indeed look very cute with it on.

Lucien places a small red trowel in front of me and begins to demonstrate personally.

Lucien: Calla lilies thrive in a humid environment but are sensitive to waterlogging. They have high water requirements, so the root seedlings are crucial.

MC: I remember you mentioned in the email that Calla lilies, being plants adapted to humid regions, are much more challenging to grow in the desert compared to other plants.

Lucien: That's correct. Therefore, during the transplanting process, be careful not to damage the root seedlings with the trowel.

I nod and carefully take the calla lilies that Lucien has prepared, ready to transplant them into the flower bed.

The delicate and fragile root tendrils seem as if they could snap at the slightest inadvertent touch, and I take a deep breath subconsciously.

Lucien: (gently) Take it easy.

Lucien gently squeezes my hand, and the familiar reassurance gradually soothes my emotions.

I nod and readjust my breathing.

First, plant the flower seedlings into the small holes that have been prepared in the flower bed. Then, rearrange the positions of their roots, and finally, cover the soil from the side onto the flower seedlings…

I'm mentally rehearsing the steps Lucien taught me, carefully following the instructions as needed.

MC: Wow! It's a success…

Before I could even finish cheering, the next moment, the flower seedling drooped in front of me.

MC: ...Oops, did I just waste a flower seedling?

Thinking that each of these flower seedlings was personally nurtured by Lucien in such an environment, I can't help but feel a sense of guilt and regret.

Lucien: You didn't, it's just not fully acclimated yet.

Lucien: Don't worry, let's try it again.

Lucien said as he leaned closer to me, his palm gently cradling my hand. He carefully adjusts the position of the flower seedling and then presses the soil down slightly.

As if by some kind of magical spell, the delicate flower seedling trembles and sways, but it never topples over.

MC: Is it... a success?

Lucien: Yes, you did great.

With the experience of this successful attempt and Lucien's hands-on teaching, I learned some small techniques, and the subsequent transplanting process is going much smoother than I had imagined.

MC: Phew, just one more pot to go until we're done!

As I said this, I raised my hand to wipe the sweat from my face. I was about to dig out the seedling from the pot when Lucien suddenly chuckled.

MC: ...What's wrong?

He raises his hand with a smile and the clean back of his finger brushes against the tip of my nose.

Lucien: You've turned into a spotty bunny.

MC: …!

Thinking about the "fertilizer elements" in the soil, I hastily raise my hand and start randomly wiping my face.

Lucien can't help but laugh, then he grabs my hand.

Lucien: (laughs softly) If you keep rubbing like that, our spotty bunny might turn into a black bunny.

Lucien: Let me help you instead.

He uses the clean part of his palm to gently wipe across my face, bit by bit.

The delicate touch of his fingertips and the warmth from his palm gradually amplifies.

His breath, accompanied by a warm breeze, audibly falls on my ear, and my earlobe subtly starts to feel ticklish.

At some point, his gaze has shifted from my face to my eyes, and his finger lightly taps on my cheek.

Lucien: Now it's clean.

I can't seem to take my eyes off his face for a moment.

Lucien: (smiles) Do I also have something that needs wiping on my face?

MC: Ah? Well, right here on the chin…

I lift up my sleeve and gently wipe away the almost invisible speck of dirt on his chin.

The scent of flowers blending with the earthy aroma lingers in the air, and a gentle kiss softly grazes my cheek near my lips.

Lucien: Thank you, Miss Gardener.

[Part 4]

After a day of busyness, the flower shop's business is doing quite well.

People keep coming to buy flowers and admire them, and Lucien can smoothly carry out his experiment. He has printed a thick stack of monitoring data alone.

Until the sun sets in the west, everything except for that reserved calla lilies has been sold out.

MC: Looks like it's time to flip the signboard and announce the closing time~

Lucien's gaze falls on the back of the wooden signboard, his fingers tracing the patterns on it.

Lucien: Unexpectedly, there is a "gardener fox" on the other side?

MC: You noticed it!

I said as I leaned closer, my fingertips lightly tracing the slightly crooked wood-carved design.

[So it's her 'artwork' that she mentioned in the event :"]

MC: I carved it based on the desert fox's appearance and added a little touch of my own creativity.

Lucien: It's a nice touch. A little fox wearing glasses, an apron, and holding a pot of flowers.

Lucien: Hmm... Is it like this?

Lucien speaks as he raises the sign next to his face, mimicking the posture of the little fox on the wooden sign.

MC: Hahaha, it seems I carved it quite lifelike!

MC: By the way, after closing the store, let's go see the desert fox together~ I saw it last time near the sand dunes near the guest house.

MC: This time, I have Mr. Fox with me. So who knows, we might just have a smooth encounter with it.

Lucien: Of course, that's great, but I'd rather have a chance encounter with a desert rabbit.

Lucien: This little fox seems a bit lonely. I think this wooden sign leaves me some room for creativity.

[He also wants to carve a dessert bunny to accompany the dessert fox so it won't be lonely🥺]

Lucien carefully puts away the wooden sign and retrieves cleaning tools from the greenhouse.

Lucien: You've been busy all day, take a break. I'll handle the cleaning.

MC: There's no way the little assistant can take a break and let the big professor be busy.

MC: Besides, I've been resting well these past few days, but you've been in the experimental greenhouse all this time. I think you should be the one taking a break.

I say this while playfully pushing his back, half-forcing him to go rest on the sofa next to the flower hall.

Lucien accommodates and sits down but takes the opportunity to hold my hand.

Lucien: Well, there's no reason for the little assistant not to listen to the professor.

I can't resist this demeanor and tone at all, so I have to compromise and sit down next to him, nuzzling up against his side.

MC: The little assistant is now obediently resting. Professor Lucien, do you have any more requests?

Lucien: I think an obedient little assistant like you should receive her well-deserved reward.

Lucien promptly gets up and when he returns, he's holding the only remaining pot containing the calla lily with "reserved" written on it.

Seeing me blink in confusion, Lucien smiles and speaks.

Lucien: From the moment it miraculously survived, I selfishly reserved it in your name.

MC: My name? Does that mean…

At this moment, I finally realized belatedly why this unique pot of calla lily had been reserved early on and kept until now.

That Miss X is actually myself.

MC: So this calla lily…. is the first one that survived as you mentioned in your email?

Lucien: Mm. You mentioned wanting to see it with your own eyes, and now it's yours.

A gentle voice brushed against my heart, and I quickly took a few steps in his direction.

He cradles that pot of calla lily in his hands so dearly, and I feel as if I can hear something blooming in my heart.

MC: It's really beautiful... From this angle, the outer edges of the flower look like the shape of a heart.

Lucien: Perhaps that's why the calla lily's flower language is "the veins of our hearts are connected together".

The pure white petals sway gently in the soft breeze of the flower hall, the sunset's light casting a golden shimmer on Lucien's eyelashes. The picturesque beauty momentarily left me a bit entranced.

It's only when he bends down to place the flower in my hand that I realize our distance has somehow become so close.

Lucien: I think, rather than a good little assistant, it's more accurate to say that MC is a very talented gardener lady.

MC: …Huh? Why do you say that?

Lucien doesn't directly answer my question; instead, he pulls my hand and places it on the location of his heart.

I immediately understood the words he didn't say.

Lucien: This beautiful flower continues to grow, connecting all the veins that are linked to you.

A soft feeling wells up in my heart, his warmth in my hand, and before me is his most familiar expression.

The accumulation of longing and his gentle words make me unable to resist leaning my head against his shoulder and nuzzling it.

MC: I'm the same.

MC: Every move you make, it's all connecting with me.

MC: Sowing, nurturing the soil, watering, fertilizing, and then the flowers bloom…

MC: Every time you share these with me, it's like I can feel your emotions in that moment.

MC: You sharing your happiness with me makes me feel even happier.

Lucien: Mm, I like sharing with you.

Lucien: (softly) It's like we're taking care of them together, and you're right here by my side.

MC: If that's the case, then I'm just like you.

MC: When I see the photos of the seedlings you post, I imagine how you planted them.

MC: When I'm planting jasmine flowers, I also feel like we're nurturing them together.

MC: I get incredibly happy when I receive emails from you, and I imagine the world you see through the things you share.

MC: I feel like I have something to look forward to every day because of the promise I'm about to fulfill, it’s as if... all the waiting and longing is sweet.

Lucien reaches out and pulls me into his arms, affectionately nuzzling the tip of my nose.

Lucien: (tenderly) Endless is just a broad concept of time, it doesn't even begin to capture a fraction of my longing to see you again.

Lucien: MC, I miss you so much.

Lucien: Even though you are right in front of me.

The gentle breeze, carrying the fragrance of flowers, rustles the branches and leaves inside the flower hall. In my ears, there is the gentle rustling of leaves and Lucien's slightly sinking voice.

In a moment of reverie, the hues of the sunset have a scent, and the fragrance of flowers has a sound.

I submerged myself in the veins of his longing, where love flourishes abundantly, lush and verdant.

#i'll never get over the 'love is like flower' concept with them sob sob #10/10 very cute fluff piece before main story angst #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers #Youtube

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arminsumi · 1 year

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Hello! I have a request right here since I can’t stop daydreaming about Eren even though I should be sleeping right now and currently have the song cosmic love stuck in my head again. Can I request a fluff and smut (mainly vanilla body worshipping, Y/N sucking on Erens nipples, and stroking his length) of Eren x Fem!Reader where Y/N sat in front of Eren in her f/c nightgown and flower crown in bed with candles lit up in the room, romantic music playing in the background, and flower petals on the sheets. Then Y/N let’s her hands wander all over Erens naked body which was covered with vanilla scented lotion which made his skin soft before pulling Y/N close to his body as he whispers beautiful things to her. Next while trapped in Erens embrace, Y/N began to kiss his shoulders and neck and bathe him with sweet intimacy causing him to moan very loud and lead to another. Finally, after Eren reaches his point, he noticed Y/N had fallen asleep and keeps her in his embrace and gave her a kiss before falling asleep himself. Lastly the next morning, Eren woke up to seeing Y/N still sleeping and adoring his bare body with her arms wrapped around him before giving her a kiss and letting her worship every inch of his body while she slept? Thanks! - 🌻

Hey Sunflower! Sure thing (¯▿¯)

Petals On the Sheets

Oneshot / E. Jaeger

A rosy romantic night with Eren!

Cws; fluff, pre-est relationship (dating), smut (vanilla), slight body worship, slight nippleplay, handjob (Reader giving)

Notes on reader; fem!reader

Notes on au; modern!au

A slow and amorous melody carried through your chest, swirling with the warm affection that you felt for the brunette who sat in front of you.

Eren's voice was no louder than the whispering music, but it sounded more romantic than any lyric you heard being sung. His whole feeling was purer than the crimson rose petals scattered on the white satin sheets. On nights like these, Eren's affections radiated from him so intensely that they filled the atmosphere of the whole room.

While you giggled about something, Eren's gentle green eyes lowered to admire the way your silken nightgown framed your body; just the sight alone had his blood rushing.

The candle flames waved, almost as if they were slow-dancing to the music, and illumined your features with just enough golden light for Eren to be completely captivated.

So captivated, in fact, that he blurted out what he was thinking right then.

"I don't think I've ever met someone who had your kind of beauty."

You teased him, "Oh? Of my kind? What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

Eren started with a stutter, "I- well, you know... I just mean, you're like an... otherworldly sort of beautiful, if that makes sense." He said.

While he spoke, you reached out for his torso, and delicately placed your fingertips on his soft skin. He was so pleasantly warm.

"It's not just how you look, it's everything about you, it's the whole feeling you emit; it's beautiful. You're beautiful."

Eren seemed to grow shyer as he spoke on, but the feeling calmed when you drew nearer to his body. He pulled you closer, his delightfully firm chest now pressed onto yours.

Your lips grazed his. His were enticingly plush and warm, and slightly parted in anticipation of your kiss, but you let your hands wander first. Your touch had a magic effect on him, really, he could even claim that your touch alone had spellbound him, mind and soul.

"No one has ever made me feel as good as you do..." He whispered onto your lips. You looked up into his eyes. There were words spoken between irises, affections shared between pupils.

Eren's firm biceps pressed against your sides, and he stole a few dreamy kisses off your lips. His warm, gentle touch drifted across the silk of your nightgown. This sight of two lovers entangled with each other was almost enough to make the candle flames flicker in awe.

Your lips trailed to his jawline, subtle facial hair prickling your skin. The scent of vanilla lotion swirled in your lungs when you brought your face closer to Eren's body. You swore you felt him shiver at the contact between his neck and your lips. It was always that spot that sent him into a dreamy haze of lust.

And this haze descended over you, too, when you felt him hardening up against you. It was impossible for Eren to stop his lustful rush when you were planting such intimate kisses on his skin.

His warm tip pressed against your nightgown, and he muttered a sorry into the air for it. His apology was quickly followed by the sounds of shared giggles.

You continued kissing over his shoulders, feeling the contours of his body with your lips, and then you lowered yourself to kiss his nipple. A loud moan slipped past his lips. The music seemed to defocus to him; all he heard was the sound of your kissing and sucking on his nipple.

Eren let his eyes flutter shut when you rolled your tongue over it, and let out another moan when your hand came to palm his length. The cascades of pleasure had him breathing heavier, his big chest swelled with lust. You let your hand glide up and down his length a few times before holding it, the warmth and firmness delightful to the touch.

These first few strokes put Eren in such a state, and he knew he couldn't give himself this pleasure even if he tried. You continued these slow and sensual strokes until Eren's moans drowned out the music.

The scents of sweat and sex and vanilla lotion filled your lungs and Eren's as well. Really, he couldn't have felt better if he was in a dream.

"Faster..." Eren muttered against you. You quickly captured his lips, and he reciprocated fervently.

Sweat pricked his forehead and cheeks, enough so to make strands of his long brunette hair cling to his skin. He looked so beautiful like this; hair sloppily fallen, eyes lidded, brows pinched together in pleasure.

He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. You knew he was close, because of the way his moans quivered and almost got caught in his throat.

Your eyes fixed on the contours of his torso, on the dips and curves that were dramatically highlighted by the candlelight.

His high slowly built in his chest, then your last few strokes finally brought it over him.

Your name fell off his lips through a series of erotic moans while he squirmed, hot ribbons of his creamy cum shooting out of his tip and landing haphazardly everywhere.

Eren's body warmth and the scent of vanilla lotion both induced sleepiness in you, so before you could indulge in pillow-talk with him, you fell asleep right there on his pleasantly firm chest.

He just smiled at you. Seeing you like this made his chest swell with so much love that he just had to kiss you.

Eventually, morning stole across the sky and light streamed in through the slit in the curtains, a strip of gold laid on the two of you.

Eren had kept you safe in his arms, in his loving warmth, throughout the whole night.

His eyes looked down admiringly at how both of your bodies entangled with each other; your arms wrapped around his middle with a sleepy looseness, your cheek smushing into the dip between his breast plates.

Honestly! Your reqs are so beautifully written! Ty and hope you enjoyed

#🐦 Freedom Boy #eren #fem!reader #eren jaeger #fluff #vanilla smut #smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot #snk #eren smut #eren fluff #i had no idea what else to call his breast plates #the manboobs idk #the Eren Pillows #lmao sorry

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mooshys · 3 years

Text

hq + aesthetic lists pt. 2

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

aesthetic lists I have made with the hq guys! these are things that remind me of them, no matter how mundane or grandiose they may seem. based off 2015 tumblr with those “tag yourself as an aesthetic” posts.

➝ pt. 1

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

hinata ➝ sand between your toes, surprise sunflower bouquets dropped off at your front porch, trampolines, fraying shoelaces, flying kites at the park, denim bucket hats, summersaulting into a pool, popsicles from an ice cream truck, smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt, packing for a road trip, fruit cut into cute shapes, flip flops, pressing a cool water bottle against your forehead when it’s hot outside, the scent of citrus

kageyama ➝ blueberries, monochrome outfits, sharing an umbrella in the rain, freshly baked bread, simple silver jewelry, the sound of a train passing by in the distance, lines of birds sitting on the wires of power lines, neatly folded laundry, soft smiles, pocket planners, the sound of a ticking clock, meeting up with your friends during the weekend, hand salve, changing into your pajamas after a long day, seeing the sunrise

oikawa ➝ sangria by the beach, alfajores, trying to connect the stars together to make out constellations, pearl necklaces, sea foam green, moonlight shimmering on ocean waves, postcards from different cities, tan lines from the summer, rosy lips, navigating your way through an airport, “this reminded me of you” text messages, yellow tinted sunglasses, falling back onto a hotel bed and laying there for a moment after traveling for hours, a collection of souvenirs

tendou ➝ flashing lights on carnival rides, confetti in the air, doodles on white sneakers, silly eraser caps topped on wooden pencils, stifling laughter in the library, red licorice, rainbows after a storm, making pillow forts in the living room and sleeping there instead of in the bed, fireworks bursting in the sky during a summer festival, strawberry candies, blowing bubbles and watching them float up in the air, colored pencil shavings, merry-go-rounds

kenma ➝ stickers on laptops, hair tied up into a messy bun, putting up the hood of your jacket, the sound of keys clicking on a laptop, collectable figurines of your favorite character, watching horror movies on halloween and making fun of the film the entire time, lo-fi hip-hop playing in the background, oversized sweatshirts that cover your hands, personalized ringtones, LED lights decorating your room, fuzzy socks for comfort

bokuto ➝ contagious laughter, running through the rain to get back home, cheesy love songs, fingers sticky from honey buns, dusting powdered sugar on cookies, curly handwriting, hopscotch on the sidewalk, fluffy comforters, tulips, enjoying a day off in the city, seeing an old friend for the first time in years, dancing when no one’s around, wearing a new outfit for the first time and feeling confident, stuffed animals from childhood, homemade birthday cakes

sakusa ➝ chaste kisses at the door before parting ways, charcoal portraits, london fog mornings, cobblestone paths, rain drops cascading down windows, art museums, watching a meteor shower from your apartment balcony, mixing wine in the glass before taking a sip, staring down from the top of a spiraling staircase, iced americanos, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, creaking floorboards, leather gloves, rhythmic drumming of fingers against the wood of a table

atsumu ➝ picking up the phone on the first ring, opal in the sunlight, golden retrievers licking your face, blue skies free of clouds, failed winks, sakura petals falling on your nose, finding each other in a garden maze, the fizz of sparkling water, blowing a dandelion to make a wish, racing up to the top of a hill, eyes full of admiration, plucking a daisy from the ground and putting it behind your ear, perfect first dates, drawing hearts on the back of your hand, candid photographs

osamu ➝ tying cherry stems with your tongue, lazy sunday mornings, the sound of a kettle whistling once the water is hot, the flicker of a flame on a candle wick, steam coming out of a rice cooker, bedhead, the light breeze of a perfect spring day, backyard gardens, laying in the grass together to stare at the clouds, old grocery lists folded and faded after being forgotten in your jean pocket, light humming while cooking breakfast, the first rays of light creeping into your room, simple meals made with love

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

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gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

You are my home💚💙

Happy Valentine’s Destiel Wedding Day everyone!

Part 2 of my Destiel wedding series.

Click here for the masterpost.

Thanks @bonchickabelle for your support

~2,8k words

“Are you nervous?” Sam teased Dean, who stood in front of the mirror, tugging his tie straight. He thought about it for a moment “Excited? Sure, can’t wait to see Cas again after you forced us to spend last night apart for some stupid tradition. Nervous? No. It’s Cas I’m marrying.” Sam smiled knowingly, already half out the door. “I’m very happy for you two!” Alone again, Dean’s eyes drifted back to the mirror and he placed his hand on his shoulder, right over Cas’ handprint. He meant what he had said to Sam. It had been the first night they had been apart since he got Cas back and he barely slept. He had just felt wrong without hearing Cas’ gentle breaths, without being able to wrap his arms around the former angel and without feeling the weight of Cas’ head on his chest. But was he nervous? Not at all. He was almost surprised at how calm he felt. He’d never been this sure about anything in his life. After today, he would never have to spend another night without Cas.

Everything was perfect. Everyone they knew had insisted on helping with the wedding in one way or another. Sam wanted to officiate them, he got his license as soon as he heard the happy news. Eileen had taken the grooms separately to shop for wedding suits, Jack had promised them a warm, sunny day and handmade the invitations with Claire. Jody and Donna had baked their wedding cake, Ellen and Jo contributed a dozen homemade pies, Bobby took care of the bar and the catering. Garth and Bess promised to capture the whole day on their cameras. Gabe offered to be their DJ and Ash took care of all the technical stuff. Rowena had promised them truly magical fireworks at night, while Crowley and Benny were in charge of the security, although that shouldn’t be necessary ever since Jack became god.

Charlie and Dorothy had not only offered their vast, beautiful property as their wedding venue, they had also taken care of the decorations. The ceremony was set to take place on the Southern side of their house. An aisle led through rows of white chairs up to a little lake in front of which they had placed a rectangular wooden arc, decorated with greenery and big white flowers that stood out brightly against the blue water in the background. The Western side of the house was already equipped with a big dance floor around which tables, a big buffet and a bar had been set up. To top it all off, Charly and Dorothy had hanged fairy lights in every single tree on their property, which would create a magical atmosphere at night.

Lost in thoughts, Dean adjusted the flower on his lapel and smiled at the mirror. He never thought that he – Dean fucking Winchester – would ever get married. And yet here he was. His phone buzzed and his smile became even wider as he saw who texted him.

[Cas 10:34] Dean?

[Dean 10:35] What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now😉

[Cas 10:37] No, my feet are perfectly fine, why would they be cold?

Dean rolled his eyes, amused at his fiancé’s confusion.

[Dean 10:37] Not literally, that’s an expression for someone who has second thoughts on their wedding day. What’s going on?

[Cas 10:38] Oh. I see. I’m nervous that I might act weird because I don’t know all wedding customs. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe help me out when I’m about to make a fool out of myself.

[Dean 10:39] Sure thing, sunshine, but don’t worry about acting right, it’s your wedding day, all you have to do is enjoy it. And everybody here knows you’re a little weird😉

Without a knock, Charlie barged in. “What’s up bitch, you ready? Cause your fiancé is and he’s smokin’ hot.” She winked as she noticed Dean’s blushing cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where’s Bobby?” “Already waiting downstairs for you. I have to go, see you in a few”. As quick as she had come, she disappeared again. Dean took another glance at the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before he left the room.

Downstairs Bobby and Ellen were laughing over a glass of scotch. When Bobby noticed Dean, he smiled and reached up to adjust his baseball cap, scoffing when he realized that he didn’t wear one today. “Lookin’ good” he grumbled. Ellen gave Bobby a quick peck on his cheek and winked at Dean as she went to take a seat. “I’m glad ya two idjits finally got the sticks out of your asses. Took ya long enough.” Dean chuckled nervously, his cheeks turning red again. “Thanks Bobby. Truth is I still don’t know how I got this lucky.” “Well, ya really deserve this, ya know? You’re a good man. He’s lucky to be with you. And I like him. Never seen you this happy.” After a pause he added “I’m very proud of you son.” Fumbling with the empty glass Ellen had left behind on the table in front of him, Dean replied “Bobby... Thank you. You’ve always been a father for me, unlike John, who... Anyways, thank you. For everything.” Dean swallowed, unable to put his love and gratitude for this man into words, but as he looked up at Bobby’s face, he caught him wiping over suspiciously wet eyes. “Idjit” he grunted, pulling Dean into a bone crushing hug. He nodded at the clock. “Ya ready? We gotta go.” “Ready” Dean replied, and he meant it. He was more than ready for this.

Or maybe he wasn’t. He was more than ready to marry Cas, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight of all his loved ones in one place, alive – thanks to Jack – gathered to celebrate with him. He always thought the only occasion where they’d all come together would be for his funeral, and he didn’t even expect that since most of them had been dead until a few months ago. Grateful and touched to see how many people where there because they loved him and Cas, Dean fought back some tears. While Garth’s kids waddled down the aisle, scattering white rose petals, Bobby squeezed Dean’s arm, as if he could sense all those thoughts whirling in his head. Dean nodded, linked their arms and let Bobby lead him down the aisle where Sammy already waited with a big grin and an even bigger stack of notes for his speech.

Back in the house, Charly gave Cas an encouraging smile and handed him a gorgeous bouquet of white and yellow flowers. “Thank you for leading me down the aisle, I was made aware that that would usually be the responsibility of one’s father...” “There’s nothing usual about this wedding..” Charly teased him. “Besides, you’ve been my bestie ever since we first met, of course I’m gonna walk you down the aisle!” She linked their arms. “Ready?” Cas nodded. “Ready...” Leaning in, he added with a proud smirk “...bestie”. The doors swung open and they stepped outside.

All heads turned around to see Cas, but he didn’t even notice. He was completely captivated by the sight of his fiancé, who let out a little gasp before breaking into a wide smile. His eyes made those cute crinkles that Cas loved so much and as he came closer, he could see a tear roll over Dean’s check. Usually, although Dean had become way more relaxed over the last months, Cas could always sense a lingering alertness in him. But now... he seemed completely at peace. Cas quickly blinked away some tears. He didn’t want anything to cloud his vision, he needed to preserve this image in his mind. His navy-blue suit combined with a simple black tie and a white flower on the lapel suited Dean incredibly well. He was beautiful and Cas’ heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was him who caused the pure adoration and happiness on Dean’s face.

Charlie led Cas towards him with excruciatingly slow steps. Dean could barely restrain himself from running towards them. Cas was indeed smoking hot in his black suit, the baby blue tie perfectly matching the color of his big, loving eyes. Their eyes locked and Cas smiled at him with his adorable alien head tilt. Dean took a deep breath in, smiling at his fiancé, whose eyes glistened suspiciously. Cas seemed completely awestruck, and Dean felt a little lightheaded like he always did when Cas looked at him like that... like he meant the world to him.

Charly placed Cas’ hand in Dean’s. “Hey handsome! Missed me last night?” Dean whispered with a wink. “Hello Dean. I missed you very much indeed”. Murmuring “Me too”, Dean softly leaned his forehead against Cas’. The grooms stood there for a moment with closed eyes and fond smiles on their faces, the longing for each other almost unbearable. Cas finally pulled away and stated softly: “You are incredibly beautiful”. He turned towards Sam. Dean blushed at the seriousness in Cas’ voice and slowly turned to face his brother as well, not without glancing at Cas’ concentrated face once more and shooting him a loving smile from the side. While Sam held his unsurprisingly deep and thoughtful speech, Cas slipped his hand into Dean’s, who squeezed it lightly in response.

When it was time to say their vows, Dean took Cas’ hands in his and started shakily: “So, uhm, I’d like to start if that’s okay. Cas – you’re my best friend. And you’re the love of my life. I never thought I’d ever say something like that, I didn’t exactly think love was in the cards for me. I never let anyone close. But you...” His furrowed brows softened, and he broke into a fond smile, adopting Cas’ little head tilt. “You immediately got to me – well, right after I stabbed you... Sorry for that, buddy.” He winked and Cas chuckled softly. Dean continued, his voice overflowing with love: “I love your weird, quirky personality. I love that you’re such an openhearted, adorable little dude and at the same time you’re brave, strong and one hell of a badass. You never stop surprising me. You have the most loving, pure and beautiful soul.” Dean’s voice started to crack. “You know me better than anyone, heck, you probably even know me better than I know myself. You looked into my soul and you love me for exactly who I am, which is the best gift you could have ever given me.” Firmly holding Cas’ gaze, he added seriously: “I promise to always love and support you unconditionally, in our human life together and beyond. I’ve been yours ever since you first laid a hand on me. And I swear I will be yours for all of eternity. I love you Cas, so damn much.”

Cas looked at him completely lovestruck, tears glistening in his eyes. In a low, gravelly voice he declared: “I never truly belonged anywhere. I never... functioned the way I was supposed to. And you made me realize that that’s okay. That freedom and free will were more preferable than being a brainwashed soldier of heaven. You gave me your friendship, you made me part of your family. You taught me to love.” He cupped Dean’s face, gently brushing his thumb over Dean’s freckled cheeks. Squinting his eyes in adoration at the miracle before him, he added: “You are the most perfect, selfless and loving human being I have ever known.” Tears started rolling down Dean’s cheeks, he still had a hard time accepting that someone – especially Cas – would think so highly of him. Receiving this praise in front of such a big audience made him blush. “Dean, you are my home. I love you. Forever.” He pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead and wiped away his tears. Dean almost drowned in his loving eyes, completely overwhelmed with affection.

Claire and Jack came up to give them their rings. Claire handed Cas a ring and whispered: “Congrats Ca... Dad”. Cas froze up for a second, tilting his head, squinting his eyes, trying to understand if she really just meant that or if it had just slipped out on accident. When she gave him a shy confirming smile, he pulled her into a strong hug. Jack handed Dean a ring with a “Hello Dad” and a short hug, before tugging on Claire’s hand to pull her back to their seats. The almost married couple shared a confused look after what just happened, Dean opening his mouth to ask “Did they just call us..?” “I believe they did”, Cas replied happily.

Sam moved on with the ceremony and let them repeat some more promises to each other before posing the final question: “Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded husband?” Cas answered earnestly “I do.” Sam turned to Dean to repeat his question: “Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel as your lawfully wedded husband?” Dean grinned widely, eyes crinkling around the edges: “Hell yeah, I do!” Sam asked them to exchange their rings to seal their bond and Cas took Dean’s hand gently in his. He slipped the ring on slowly, looking deeply into Dean’s beaming green eyes. Dean then slipped a ring onto Cas’ finger, his fingertips lingering longer than necessary. Sam finally pronounced them “...husband and husband. You may now kiss your groom!” Under the roaring cheers of their loved ones, Dean cupped Cas’ face while his husband pulled him close, arms wrapped around his waist. Their lips found each other easily, all of their adoration blooming into a chaste, soft kiss. Cas spontaneously bent Dean backwards, who gasped into his mouth in surprise, before letting himself fall into the strong embrace. Their kiss deepened, both too far gone to hear the excited cheers and whistles around them. It took them a while to gather the strength to break apart, foreheads resting against each other for one more moment before turning to the cheering crowd. Dean linked their hands and raised them up, as Sam exclaimed loudly: “I present to you Mr. and Mr. Winchester!”

The party afterwards was one for the books. Everyone had a blast and surprisingly enough, everyone got along perfectly, which wasn’t exactly a given on a party were hunters and supernatural beings came together. Donna’s and Jody’s wedding cake was mind-blowingly delicious. It was a white cake with three tiers and a figurine of the happy couple on top, wearing their trademark flannel and trenchcoat. When they cut the cake open, it revealed a colorful surprise. The top tier was colored like the bisexual pride flag. The second tier was chocolate-brown and the bottom tier looked like a rainbow flag. Dean insisted on feeding Cas with some cake and “accidentally” smeared frosting on Cas’ face. After he had kissed it away shamelessly, which earned them loud cheers and whistles from their guests, Dean pulled his husband onto the dance floor for their first dance.

They both didn’t exactly know how to dance, but it didn’t matter. They were just happy to feel the comforting warmth of their bodies against each other and melted into a tight embrace. As they were swaying gently, eyes closed and faces buried in each other’s necks, they didn’t realize that the first song had long blended into the next one. After a couple of songs, Dean opened his eyes for a moment, watching all the people he loved enjoy themselves. Jody and Donna slow-danced next to them and Eileen tried to teach Sam how to dance, hoping not to get her toes crushed. The brothers exchanged a big smile that said: “We’re so damn lucky”. Rowena stood at the DJ-table with Gabe, brushing a hand over his arm and whispering something in his ear. Crowley and Benny seemed to hit it off at the bar and Claire and Jack tried to teach Sonny some “tictoc-dance”, whatever that was, while Miracle excitedly jumped around their feet. Dean closed his eyes again and sank even deeper into the feeling of Cas’ arms wrapped around him.

The party carried on deep into the night, roaring rock classics long having replaced the quiet couple-dance music, everyone partying on the dance floor or sharing stories and laughs at the bar. As the newlyweds sat down to chat with Sam and Eileen over some drinks, Cas looked at his husband lovingly. He was overjoyed to see Dean beaming happily from being among all the people he loved, no danger in sight. As Dean caught Cas starring, he gave him a gentle peck and got up. He linked their hands as they strolled towards the lake, the party sounds fading into low background noises. They leaned up against each other, the reflections of stars and fairy lights glistening on the water as they held each other close in the cold night air. Dean nuzzled his nose into Cas’ hair and pressed a gentle kiss on his head. Cas turned to see Dean’s glowing eyes and pulled him into a long, achingly tender kiss. They were home.

#I've been working on this for 2 weeks now #destiel wedding #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #castiel winchester #destiel wedding fic #deancas wedding #supernatural wedding #spn #supernatural #supernatural family #happy destiel wedding day #spn wedding #saileen #destiel fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 6503 ⚬ warnings: degradation, drinking ⚬ genres: this is just smut. filthy smut. featuring a lot of dirty talk from soonyoung and a hint of a secret au!

✧✎ synopsis: the tension between you and a mystifying stranger at the club only thickens each time you meet. he seems like a risk you’re willing to take.

✧✎ a/n: GOD. i have not written straight up smut in two years! i mean, there is a little bit of a background plot, i hope it’s all enjoyable hehe. also, the “secret au” is pretty easy to guess lol, but i suppose it could be a couple of things!

The first time you see him, you’re surrounded by your friends, packaged into a small space that grants you just enough room to sway your body and bring a pink-coloured drink to your lips. He’s across the room, leaning back on a white sofa. Impassively, he overlooks the crowd, until his entourage returns from the shadows to occupy the hard cushions. One of them leans into his ear and whispers something. You force yourself to swallow more of the sweet syrup from your glass, wondering what was said that makes him smirk.

A hand touches your bare shoulder, to which you turn around and grin rather intoxicatedly at your friend. She’s equally inebriated, and as the music reverberates toward the centre of the floor, you wrap an arm around her waist to pull her in close and move with the beat. You take another sip from the glass before hoisting it high in the air, hips undulating, feeling the heat and the dizziness and her hot breath hitting your ear as she mouths along to the lyrics.

Eventually, you two part, and your turn yourself back around almost immediately. As much as you want to believe it’s not because of the stranger, that seems to be the only plausible explanation, and it only burns that much deeper when you realize he’s staring at you. One arm stretches around the back of the sofa, his other hand loosely holding an amber shot glass at his knee. For a moment you stop moving to return his gaze. The stranger isn’t coy. He evidently scans your body, starting at your laced stilettos, venturing up the black fabric hugging your waist, and landing at the haze in your eyes.

You feel warm, but it’s not the muggy air, the crowded club, or even the violet lights.

However, you’re soon met with the repercussions of the dance floor as an unfamiliar body slams into yours, jostling you forward. You grimace as alcohol sloshes over your glass, prompting you to quickly escape toward a less populated pocket of space. The stranger’s glance follows you, yet his mood has shifted. Instead, he chuckles and shakes his head while bringing the shot glass to his lips, downing the golden liquid in a short swig. Your heart thunders upon watching him gently elbow his friend, where he utters something into his ear that preludes their amused, somewhat snide expressions.

It’s downright embarrassing. You can only deduce they’re enjoying your accident with the drink, even when the same predicament had probably just happened to someone else at the opposite end of the room. The stranger’s gaze seems to be searching out a different body, though you aren’t certain, rather you weave your way through the tables to find the washroom and rinse the alcohol from your hand. Admittedly, you feel disappointed to lose the stranger’s attraction. You can’t remember the last time you experienced a successful hook-up where you weren’t exaggerating your lacklustre pleasure.

Your hopes had simply been too high.

The second time you see him, you’re sucking restlessly at a straw, completely emptying the glass until there’s nothing but crushed ice cubes watering down the last few drops of alcohol. Looking up from the table, you spot him buried in the wave of sluggish bodies, the violet light tingeing his partially unbuttoned dress shirt and his black hair. But it rapidly dawns that he’s not dancing alone, for a girl twirls into his arms, pressing her backside to his front, rubbing herself against him while his hands explore her torso. The light hits a new angle on his throat, illuminating the trail of hickies.

It cuts through you, for the envy is like a blade generously sharpened. Even though you will yourself to look away, it becomes an impossible task, to which you trace their every movement without missing a heartbeat. His hand, clad in a myriad of silver rings, engulfs her breast and squeezes. Her head tilts back onto his shoulder, gasping something that seems to be full of euphoria. His eyes flicker quickly, and as though you’re a rabbit that’s to be nicked by an arrow, you’re caught directly in the crosshairs. You wish there had been more alcohol lining your glass so you could’ve turned further numb.

Enveloped in the stranger’s trance, you watch his hand slide around the column of her neck, how his gaze never falters even when he licks a stripe up her skin and nips at her ear. Folding one leg over the other, you attempt to snuff the venereal warmth that flutters at your abdomen, hating that you’re imaging what each sensation would feel like if you were against his body rather than her. His eyes are black, poisonous, and yet you contain so little care that he might be a menace, not when he grinds his hips against the dip of her spine while she hides her face in his neck, already suckling another bruise.

You have no idea what she’s feeling, or why he can’t take his eyes off you. It’s a bit unabashed and perhaps from a place of unsatiated neediness, but you’d really love for him to fuck you.

Maybe your third encounter will be the charm.

“Drink or dare?”

“Dare.”

For the past two rounds, you had purely subjected your body to the potent taste of sour, cold lime and gin mixed with tonic. Not desiring to ram your consciousness further into the ground, you finally chose dare, which uproots some whistles and snickers from around the table. Your friend bites her lip, straining her neck while her eyes cherry pick through the club-goers. Despite the alcohol exchanging your blood for liquid fire, there’s a nervousness in your tummy, and you can’t help fiddling with the hem of your black dress upon waiting for her sinister verdict.

“Alright,” she says, almost yelling over the thunderous bass, “I dare you to ask that guy what his biggest secret is!”

You follow her pointed finger, and your heart seems to immediately shrivel. He’s standing by the white sofa, invested in a conversation with another man who’s holding a martini glass, filled with a drink that’s an electric shade of blue. He offers the drink toward him, but the stranger denies, aggressively pushing away the glass. You sense a scuffle is going to break out between the two men, until someone else who always seems to accompany the stranger steps in, diminishing the conflict.

“Well?” She calls out to you, quirking an eyebrow. “You going or not?”

“I’m going!”

You slide off the stool and pull down your dress. As you shift your way through the crowd, you attempt to rally some confidence, rehearsing the different approaches you could take upon introducing yourself. Yet, there’s a gigantic roadblock. How are you going to persuade him to reveal his biggest secret? From what you already gleaned, he appears unforthcoming, but awfully magnetic.

By the time you’re tapping his shoulder, your confidence disintegrates like a dried flower petal and every nonchalant line you practiced in a spasm floats out your head.

His eyes are much darker in proximity, the colour of sable, and he smells like a royal cologne you can’t afford. He waits for you to speak first, almost as though he knows how nervous you are, wanting to revel in the trembling notes of your voice.

“I-I’m supposed— I’m, uh… How are you?” It’s painful, but you manage to choke it out.

With his hands casually buried in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, he shrugs.

“I’m fine, honey. And yourself?”

Your blood surges, for you can feel it dragging through your veins, and a heat unlike any other draws a glimmering film to your palms. Due to the pounding music, you both have to raise your voices.

“I’m –uh– good? Yeah, I’m good!” Somehow, your lexicon could exist on the point of a needle.

The stranger chuckles. He’s enjoying your flustered nature far too much.

Quickly, you spiel out another question: “what’s your name?”

However, he doesn’t catch it. Instead, he taps his ear and leans in.

“What’s your name?” Your entire chest beats wildly upon repeating the question. The black fibres of his hair smell like passionfruit, but there’s a distant scent, and you think it’s charcoal.

He pulls back and smiles. “Soonyoung.” His name simmers in the thick air for a moment.

Your skin intensely prickles as his gaze then traces the length of your body, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, plump and pink as he asks, “what about you?”

Soonyoung lowers his head again, to which your lips nearly touch his ear upon replying with your name. Once more, he smiles contentedly, while you believe that the scent in his hair has to be charcoal, or maybe even gunpowder. You think about the man with the electric blue drink, how he must’ve sunk into the shadows after Soonyoung’s friend intervened. The dare is still in the back of your mind, even when you inquire on a different topic.

“Why do you look at me all the time?”

There’s something about the darkness in his eyes that keeps you allured, even when you sense it’s better to reject the dare all together and brace through another gulp of gin and tonic.

“Hm. That’s not what you came here to say now is it, honey?”

His response unsteadies you. As Soonyoung counters your question with another question, a small curl develops at the corners of his mouth, as though he knows something you don’t. From his backside, another companion of his abruptly slides by, his hand settling on Soonyoung’s shoulder while he whispers into his ear. The man disappears immediately afterward, like he was nothing but mist.

The strangeness of it all leads you to fumble.

“Well… I-I was dared to come over here. I have to ask what your biggest secret is…”

It’s rather embarrassing to admit. You’d shoot a glare toward your friends if you weren’t so enraptured by Soonyoung’s unfaltering eyes.

“My biggest secret?” He drags a hand slowly through his hair while he bites his lip, thinking. You presume the gold watch on his wrist must cost more than your rent.

“I think I have a good one.” The manner in which Soonyoung’s tone had deepened piques your curiosity, though his soft smirk suggests you should consider if you truly want to know the answer.

Not willing to capitulate when you’ve succeeded this far, you dare grin at him, ensuring that you’re heard overtop the club music when you invite, “tell me.”

The sweltering of the amethyst lights and the concentrated gin coursing beneath your flesh does nothing to mitigate how hot you feel. When Soonyoung steps in close, his cologne seems to envelope you in an unbreakable spell, and your fingernails dig into the flexible, tight fabric of your dress when his lips brush your ear’s cusp. His voice laps like velvet at your very core.

“I think about fucking you, calling you my pretty little slut as I shove your face in my pillow and put my cock so deep inside you that you’re screaming. Every time I have a girl in my bed, I imagine it’s you, begging me to give it to you harder, begging me for my cum, and I make you take it all, just so I can watch how it drips out of you, honey. ”

Then, Soonyoung is leaning away with an expression that’s wholly complacent, meanwhile your universe is splitting itself apart beneath the flame of his words, a sensation much too slick now dampening the lace between your thighs. You can’t help but wet your dry lips.

“Is that a big enough secret for you, huh?” He purrs, a purple glint flashing in his eyes.

Nothing pieces together in your head. There is not one sentence bothering to make itself apparent, let alone any margin of thought that was relatively pure. Engulfed in the midst of unintelligible music and sanity that endlessly dwindles, you decide the only sensible reply is to kiss Soonyoung. This is just an opportunity you can’t lose. Pressing your chest to his, one hand gripping his shoulder, you at long last acquaint yourself with his candied taste and the softness of his pink mouth.

Soonyoung grins upon the pressure, the gin and tonic that coats your unhesitant tongue, how you mewl so helplessly when he digs his fingers into your hips like they were meant to be imprinted with bruises. Winding your arms around the boy’s neck, you fall into him in complete vulnerability, pull him down closer while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he chuckles breathily, his hands venturing lower to squeeze your ass, “bet you’d let me bend you right over on this couch, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Sliding your fingers through the feathery, black hair at his nape, you push your lips to his once more, nipping at his bottom lip that shimmers with your own saliva. Honestly, Soonyoung isn’t far from the truth. The last time you experienced such a sharp, needy pang at the apex of your thighs is thrust back too far in your memory. His hands reach down over your ass to the dress’ hem, where he hikes up the tight material slightly, his fingertips suddenly stroking you through your underwear.

“Please, Soonyoung,” his name feels so right as it escapes your throat, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His firm grip plants back on your hips, and he catches your stare, deep and lustful. “You’d let me take you home, baby? Are you sure you want this?”

Immediately, you nod your head, arms fastening around his neck. “You can take me anywhere.”

Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t once consider your friends crowded at the table across the club, nor would you care if they witnessed Soonyoung’s hand slipping beneath your dress to brush your clothed folds, not when a sensation felt that appeasing. He smirks, then briefly turns around, tapping a member of his entourage on the shoulder to exchange another whisper. The only thing you register is your burning excitement when Soonyoung tilts his head in the direction of the backdoor exit.

“C’mon,” he takes your hand, “my place isn’t a far walk.”

Soonyoung seems to live in the esteemed, Grand Plaza that’s no further than a street down from the club. It’s surrounded by the flashy nightlife, and as he pulls you into the foyer, completely marbled and elegant, you infer that he must be paying bigtime in order to maintain an apartment amidst the city’s pumping heart. The second you reach the elevator, he’s already pinned you against the cold metal, his kisses full of aggression and clever tongue that you pathetically whine for.

His palm sneaks up your dress, cupping at your pussy aching for any degree of attention. You grind into his hand and Soonyoung delights at your arousal. In fact, as the elevator nears the appropriate floor, a desire to touch every crevice of your body consumes him. Before you can take in another breath, the sweet pressure deserts your core, his fingers now pulling aside the plunging v of your dress so that he can free your breast, to which he immediately licks and suckles over the soft skin. A small ding resonates from the elevator, though he spends an extra moment lapping at your nipple.

You step away to avoid an embarrassing blunder with the doors and hastily readjust your dress. Once Soonyoung confirms that the corridor is clear, it’s a blitz to his room, his key card shoved carelessly into the slot before he’s dragging you inside. The sight of his apartment admittedly stuns you, particularly the tall, slender windowpanes that reach directly to the floor, the high arch of the ceiling and the diamond chandelier hanging like a celestial object.

Soonyoung touches your waist, pushing your spine to his door. His fingers then graze underneath your dress to the inside of your thigh, where he merely snaps your lace panties against the skin.

“You’re going to be my good little slut for the night, aren’t you?” He asks, his tone dripping much like syrup. You nod without question, and his other hand rests next to your head while he murmurs huskily into your ear, “take your underwear off for me, sweetheart.”

The fabric slides down your legs and drops at your ankles, which you manage to kick away, though you don’t miss the embarrassingly large wet patch that stains the lace. It only amplifies this desperation that’s been blooming inside you, and as Soonyoung slowly drops to his knees, a shaft of moonlight falling across the complete blackness in his eyes, you can’t help the shudder that strings so icily down your back. He begins tucking up the dress until it sits nice and snug over your hips.

Something about the way he gazes at your heat crushes every bit of breath from your lungs. Without warning, Soonyoung nestles his face between your thighs and delivers a long, hard lick, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your contorted expression as his tongue drags against your nerves.

He smirks wolfishly. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. Does your pussy always get this soaked?”

You struggle to articulate when Soonyoung places another lethargic lick with the flat of his tongue, a scoff half-rumbling in his chest while he massages your clit using the slick muscle. Somehow, you find the words, though they sound strangely distant as they echo outside your haze of pleasure.

“N-No, only when I-I think about you.”

Soonyoung’s guttural laugh strikes your core, and with a swift movement, he manages your leg over the back of his shoulder, improving his access to your plentiful wetness. A sharp inhale rushes between your teeth upon the boy sliding his index finger past your slit, until the thick silver ring dissuades him from pushing the digit in any further. He curls it, rubs against your silk to make you moan. Your fingers scratch into the door, not yet sure if you should be rifling them through his locks.

“Yeah? You think about me, baby?” It almost seems like a taunt. “Entertain me then.”

Just as you open your mouth, Soonyoung deviously slips in another finger past your opening, trails of gloss seeping down his hand as he stretches your pulsating warmth.

“I-I imagine this,” even with the boy on his knees and his fingers ticking your sweet spot, it’s still difficult to admit such filth, “I imagine you e-eating me out, n’making me cum.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He purrs knowingly against your clit, his lips kissing the sensitive bud. “Such a good girl, letting me taste this pretty pussy.”

You hum in agreement, eyes falling shut to bask in the overwhelming sensations and how expertly Soonyoung reads on your slightest twitch or exhale, pinpointing the areas that prominently break you down and render you incoherent. Every so often you feel the cold silver of his rings brush your heat as he continues pumping his fingers, to which Soonyoung notes that your leg always trembles against his shoulder. Smiling, he presses his fingers in further, the rings just touching your inner walls while he swirls his tongue at a slow, thorough pace against your clit, satisfying the ache.

Unable to process the insane pleasure, your spine arches from the door and your fingers latch into the boy’s strong, black roots. You pull up on his scalp, cursing vehemently.

“F-Fuck, Soonyoung! Soso good—nngh—don’t stop, please!”

You almost feel apologetic for his neighbours who must hear these unabashed shouts muffle through his walls each night, though you can’t be bothered to moderate your volume when Soonyoung abuses your g-spot with the deep, consistent massaging of his fingers. He attaches his mouth overtop your clit, his tongue lathering across the bud before he starts flicking it harshly. At that moment, nothing else surges through you but an unprecedented hedonism, and you stuff his face in further to your heat. With your head tossed back against the door, you almost fear how greatly this orgasm builds.

It feels like the pressure situated at your abdomen could burst you open like a water balloon, and the only manner in which you can express the pleasure is to wail helplessly. As Soonyoung’s touch sinks so deliciously against that heavenly spot, his tongue, unrelenting and passionate, working to abuse your swollen bud, your body discovers its incapability to hold out a moment longer. Instead, it crumbles, and with a piercing cry of Soonyoung’s name your arousal gushes onto the boy’s awaiting face.

But he doesn’t wither away or allow the room to stop spinning, rather he delivers a few more vigorous pumps with his fingers and licks over your throbbing bud, all while you feel some of the liquid drip down your inner thigh. Breathing feebly, you tug hard at his scalp in an attempt to make him remove his mouth, for your heat feels raw and swells with oversensitivity.

“Soonyoung, please,” your eyes heavily pull open, “i-it’s hurting too much.”

At last, his fingers retreat from your opening and his mouth allows the cool air to ghost over your flesh. It’s alarming to observe the droplets of your cum that glisten on his face, his lips, so flushed and shiny, yet the boy’s tongue only curls out to collect the arousal.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. Did you know you could squirt, sweetheart?” His smile is cunning. “Or has no one ever treated your pussy that well?”

“I’ve never done it before,” you laugh breathlessly, and your head hits the back of the door as you attempt to process what just happened, “I didn’t know something could feel that good.”

While your fingers brush back his hair, Soonyoung places soft pecks up your inner thigh until he reaches the enflamed skin of your core. He catches your infatuated gaze, ensuring you watch as the very tip of his tongue pushes in shallow past your opening before the muscle circles delicately around your clit. Your hips jerk against his face, to which the immediate reverberations in his chuckle vibrate past your folds. Attentively, Soonyoung kisses the sensitive bud, and then your stomach.

After removing your leg from his shoulder, he rises to his feet, the darkness still dancing in his eyes like a flickering shadow. He feels like a foreboding addiction, one that you can’t give up.

“You’re perhaps the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He compliments, his hand sliding around to stroke the small of your back, his lips just brushing your ear’s shell. “Even better than I imagined.”

Despite the complete filth laced into his speech, his voice somehow contains a tender cadence when he pulls back slightly to murmur against your temple, “now that I know how you taste, I wanna know how you feel, honey. How tight that little pussy is when it’s squeezing around my cock.”

A lightheaded blur emerges from your high, now subsiding, less electric. At the mere thought of Soonyoung pounding you remorselessly into the pillows, your knees begin to wobble and that yearning ache rebuilds itself at your abdomen. To steady yourself, you grip his shoulder, though when you look down, you’re somewhat astounded at the pool of wetness gathered on his floorboards. If just his tongue and fingers could force you to gush, then you wonder how you’ll stay together on his cock.

The trip to his bedroom is all but graceful, rather it’s your legs wrapped snuggly around his waist while his palms splay and squeeze against your ass, your tongues consistently brushing together as you taste yourself from his plump mouth. You had been expecting Soonyoung to just toss you on his bed like an insignificant ragdoll, but to your gratitude, he lays you down gently, spends his next few minutes licking and suckling at your throat. To be marked by him ignites a small grin on your face.

“I want this off, sweetheart,” he demands, tugging at your dress, “do you need help?”

“Yes please. I-I think, with the zipper.” You grunt, reaching behind you to feel the ridges.

After shifting yourself around, Soonyoung stands at the end of the bed, one hand resting on your shoulder blade while the latter undoes the zipper and reveals your back. The little hairs bristle along your skin as you feel a compassionate kiss against the first bump in your spine. Upon helping you slide the fabric down to your waist, Soonyoung’s mouth continues to drift across your shoulder, his hands sliding up your ribs until each hand palms reverently at your breasts. His teeth then dig into a sensitive patch at your neck, giving more vibrance to the low groan that flutters past your lips.

He whispers silkily, “I can’t wait to be inside you, baby. Hm? My good little slut? So beautiful and needy? I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you’re nice and full.”

Your dress lands somewhere at the base of the mattress, and once your heels are unbuckled, they thump against the floor next to it. Soonyoung guides you into the exact position he desires, which entails your chest flush with his grey bedsheets, cheek sinking against his pillow while your ass pokes into the air. Behind you, there’s the rustle of his clothes being removed, prompting you to wriggle your hips in anticipation and whine for his touch to continue grazing your skin.

His slides off his belt without any particular haste. Impatience prickles, and you moan for him.

“M’so wet, Soonyoung. Please, I need you to fuck me, c-can’t wait anymore.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder, examining his firm torso, the muscles smooth and lithe, how he begins shoving his pants down over his hips. It’s antagonizing.

“I know, honey,” he soothes, his black eyes glistening, “you’ve been so patient for me.”

At last, the mattress dips to suggest that Soonyoung is taking his place behind you, to which you can hear the lewd sound of his hand passing up and down his cock, leaking and painfully hard. Despite the sensitivity lingering from your last orgasm, your entire core still throbs in such overwhelming arousal, a sweltering urge to be stretched completely open. He leans over you, pecking your temple.

“Terrible timing,” Soonyoung laughs, his fingers circling below your navel, “but you are on the pill, right? I’d love a child one day, just not at this exact moment.”

“I am.” You smile, though you aren’t sure how entirely bad it would be to bear his child, and you can’t tell if it’s the gin and tonic finally bleeding through your rationality or the viscid lust.

“Perfect.” He hums, his hand gripping onto one side of your hip while he presses his engorged head into your slick.

At an indulgent pace, Soonyoung drags himself through your slippery folds and rubs at your clit, a satisfied, low rumble emanating from his chest upon a sight so impure, especially as your gloss coats his length, sticky and wet. Your chest heaves largely at his teasing, engendering you to grind back against his body in a desperate hope to have him split you open.

It’s to your absolute pleasure that Soonyoung obliges. He begins pressing his cock in past your opening, your jaw falling slack until he’s digging in as far as he can fit, inducing the delicious stretch that ripples throughout your body. You breathe in raggedly and hiss his name between clenched teeth, fingers curling into the bedsheets once he’s grounded himself enough to start thrusting.

“O-Oh ffuck,” Soonyoung slurs, swallowing tautly, “you’re such a tight little bitch, hm? Just begging for me to ruin this pretty fucking pussy. I’ve waited so long for this, baby. You have no idea.”

He clutches your hips and slams you back onto his cock, grinding himself so deep inside you that the edges of your vision speckle with white dots. While it’s a bit tough for you to admit that your last sexual encounter had been months ago, it only seems to enhance how wonderful each sensation is now, how euphoric it is to feel his length rub against your inner heat and tick all those aching spots that your own fingers fail to prod. Soonyoung shifts onto his one knee, and suddenly he’s striking a newfound depth. You can’t help the loud squeal bursting from your mouth as he bruises your hips.

Suddenly, the boy is reaching for your arm. It’s pinned behind your back, his fingers latched around the wrist while his other hand threads against your scalp.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he growls upon shoving your cheek into the pillow, “scream for me, just like that. Let everyone know how much of a slut you are.”

With an unrelenting pace, he snaps into you, and the obscene noises of your heat sucking in his cock echo endlessly around the bedroom. At this point, you’re completely void of shame. As Soonyoung pounds into you, his hand ironclad around your wrist, your desire to cum warps into a critical essentiality. The tears stream hot and abundant down your face, muddling your makeup.

“H-Harder, Soonyoung! Please! Give it to me harder!”

“Yeah?” The sweat gleams on the column of his neck, black hair tousling before his eyes that shine mercilessly. “My pretty little slut wants it harder? You want me to fucking break you, baby?”

You don’t care if your body cracks in half like a ceramic. The way his cock is pressing consistently and roughly against that pliant, sensitive spot, it’s the only sensation you can feel. Even his fingers helping to smother your cheek against the pillow, damp with your tears and drool, is a sting rather infinitesimal compared to the pleasure. A cold breath expands in your lungs, and you take advantage of it to plead with Soonyoung, your voice falling apart at the seams while you beg to cum.

Unable to deny you, he takes it upon himself to fuck you so hard that the bedframe slaps into the wall. Soonyoung has already adapted to that spot which makes you weep, and he bites his lip harshly while abusing it with the head of cock. Your body immediately attempts to twist itself up as the ecstasy splatters like rain, though Soonyoung uses his grip on your arm and hair to keep you in position, instead forcing you to take the stimulation until you’re erratically clenching around him.

“Right there, honey? Does it feel good when my cock hits you right fuckin’ there? Huh?”

“Fuck, Soonyoung!” Your howl pierces the dense air, and he can tell you’re sobbing. “M’cumming!”

He tosses his head back as you convulse around him, the juices dripping down the back of your thighs while your world momentarily fades. You’re clamping against his cock with such warmth and silk that Soonyoung releases only a minute later, his seed thickly coating the inside of your heat, his length throbbing with every hot spurt. His guttural cursing subsides into laboured breaths. You feel his hands leave your wrist and hair, retreating to their favoured hold on your hips where he manages to deliver a few more thrusts, languid enough for him to watch his cum get pumped back inside you.

Spent in every single manner, you possess only a dying wisp of energy. You whimper and tremble at the vacancy when Soonyoung removes his cock, a feeling you never thought could be this horrible. Not soon after, his cum slowly pools from your opening, trailing down the inside of each thigh, to which he slightly stretches your ass in order to see just how much he’s emptied into you.

“I can’t believe you’re this beautiful,” he sounds mesmerized, “fuck, baby. Just look at you, so full of my cum. I’ve waited so fucking long to see you like this.”

Soonyoung then leans forward, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

“My good little girl. Perfect, aren’t you? Just for me?”

His soft chuckle is somehow a comforting sound, even when your body collapses against his sheets and there’s nothing you’re able to do but nod in agreement. You’re purely exhausted in the afterglow, too tired to even care that his cum is spilling out of you or that you’ve completely deserted your friends at the club. Soonyoung kisses a trail up your back and stops at your shining temple. You can’t tell if he ever joined you in bed or not, though he did stay with you for a few minutes afterward, rubbing your back, brushing his lips over shoulders, a beaming praise whispered every now and then.

You just know you fell asleep smiling.

By the fragile light of morning, you hear Soonyoung’s voice. It doesn’t seem as though he’s beside you or even sitting atop the bed, more like he’s standing somewhere distant. The dimness to the room helps your eyes adjust, and with a low groan you turn your back to the window, snuggling into one of the boy’s cold pillows. When you peek downward, you notice that a decent-sized blue blanket had been strewn across your waist, which you quickly pull further up your body to hide from the cool air. Through the fuzziness, you spot Soonyoung leaning against the doorframe to his washroom.

He’s partially dressed, wearing his black pants while a towel hangs around the back of his neck. The bathroom mirror is smudged with fog and slipping beads of vapour. It isn’t until you hear his quiet voice for the second time that you realize Soonyoung is speaking with someone over the phone. Your eyes fall shut as you attempt to concentrate on snippets of the conversation.

“Fine, we’ll meet at the abandoned hanger off Lake Avenue… Yeah… Just the handgun… Isn’t that too many though?... No, no, not the stash at East End… If he shows up then it’s fucked… That’s what I’m assuming… Okay, sure… Call me back after noon.”

Then, Soonyoung hangs up his phone and slides it with a sigh into his pants pocket. Your eyes open wide again, and you blink a few times to properly clear the sleepy, clinging remnants. Not wanting to overstay your welcome and become a potential hinderance, you slowly shuffle up in his bed, the blue blanket pooling around your hips.

“Did you sleep well?” Soonyoung inquires, tossing the towel from his neck onto the bed.

Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you nod at him. “Yeah, I did,” your voice has yet to lose its monotone rasp, “who were you talking with?”

“Just a friend.” He replies.

Soonyoung walks toward a desk placed across from the bed, picking up a white dress shirt that he slips into. He leaves the front unbuttoned, though he cuffs up the long, flimsy sleeves.

“Hey, do you think I could take a quick bath or something? I promise I won’t be long.”

As he continues to adjust the sleeves, he shrugs. “Yeah, you want me to start it?”

“It’s fine.” You decline politely.

Though the moment you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare to stand, a doubtful inkling has you rethinking that choice. A resounding soreness thumps at your core, the marrow of your hips, yet you pretend that your muscles feel nothing like gelatine and attempt to take your first steps after such a rigorous night. Soonyoung watches in amusement, for your knees immediately begin wobbling while that deep-rooted ache has you buckling to the carpet.

When you look up, cheeks heated from embarrassment, Soonyoung is standing before you baring a fond smile.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He inquires again, folding some black hair behind his ear.

“No,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I need help, please?”

“All you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Soonyoung proceeds to bend down, tucking you carefully against his chest while your arms loop in a secure fashion around his neck. Feeling like a moonstruck bride whose being carried off to her honeymoon, you can’t evade the tiny smile that flits from each corner of your mouth, and it sticks coyly, even when Soonyoung sets you down on the closed toilet in order to run the bath water. You realize you’re going to need your dress, heels, the lace underwear that’d been deserted by his doorway.

Swallowing nervously, you watch as warm water fills the tub.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but do you think you could grab my clothes? A-And I might need to use your phone, since I never took my purse with me last night. My friends are probably worried.”

He stands from the porcelain edge, a laugh rumbling in his chest, “why are you so apologetic?”

“I don’t know,” you quickly shrink into yourself when Soonyoung’s gaze falls over you, hardly as poisonousness compared to the night before, “I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you’re busy, and you just seem like a busy person.”

“And I also fucked you so hard that you can’t even walk.” He reasons lightheartedly, keeping an eye on the bathtub, “I don’t mind, honey. I’ll get your clothes, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

At least if he’s a poison, it’s a sweet one.

“Don’t worry about your friends either,” Soonyoung comments, at last shutting off the faucet while thin steam curls into the air, “One of my guys told them you’d be safe. They know where you are.”

“Really? Thanks.”

He baffles you; he feels mysterious yet personable. You want to ask him what he does for a living, especially upon recounting his earlier phone call, though you dismiss the question when Soonyoung helps you slide into the tub. The hot water works magnificently to relieve the soreness from your muscles, and though it’s a bit uncomfortable to squeeze back into that tight, black dress and the expensive heels, at least you’re able to walk (as long as you keep a hand flush against the wall).

Thankfully, Soonyoung helps you toward the front door of his apartment. A one-night stand has never felt so painful to leave behind, and you’re overwhelmed with poignancy as you wonder why you had never approached him sooner. He announces that there’s a driver stationed out front the Plaza, in a jet-black car you don’t catch the name of, and that you only have to lend him your address.

“He’ll take you home.” Soonyoung assures you.

Already, you find it astonishingly natural to trust him, engendering your hesitance as you stand in the corridor wishing you could somehow stay.

“What if I want to see you again?” You pipe up, catching his gaze.

Your heart is racing, and warmth dapples each arch of your cheek.

Soonyoung steps forward, cupping your face in his palms, his soft mouth pressing to yours while a fragrant, winter mint cuts sharp to your senses.

“You know where to find me, sweetheart.” He responds casually, and smiles as though he knows you’ll come back to him. “See you around.”

✧✎ a/n: i am handing out water bottles down here guys, it’s okay i got you covered! after not writing serious smut for so long, it just FELT SO? BIZARRE? TO TAMPER WITH IT AGAIN. like i remember the times when i could write smut with a straight face and you’d think i was typing my will or something. anywho. I REALLY HOPE IT SATISFIED SOME OF U!! and WHAT DO U THINK THE SECRET AU IS HEHEHEH

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung smut #svt smut #hoshi smut #svt fanfic #soonyoung fanfic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #soonyoung imagines

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cncoluv · 3 years

Text

CNCO Sleep Over Spring Break

Warnings: Fluffy

Setting: Four Seasons in Florida/Disney

Background: Thank goodness it is one day away from officially being spring break because I'm so sick of college right now. If I have to think about another advanced research methods class, my head will explode. It has been a crazy year and I have not talked to the boys that much between them being on tour and me having classes. I will call them after their shows and interviews every once in a while. But we all agreed that it has been forever since we have seen each other and that we need to spend time together since I have almost two weeks off of college and work. We all agreed that we should spend some time together during their tour in Florida since that was a place that I had not been to since I was young.

(Y/N)

We all agreed that another sleepover was absolutely necessary so we could revert back to being children again to sing and dance all over again and not have a care in the world. It was refreshing because I have not had a break or a fun time in a long while, and I am sure they need one as well with the constant touring. While packing my clothes for tomorrow, I decided that we would go to a fancy restaurant and it would be my treat. I am sure I am going to have to fight them since they do not like me to pay for all of them at once because they are stubborn. For the restaurant, I am bringing the most beautiful dress that I own, a deep purple dress with diamonds that gleam all over that in any light. The top of the dress has an off of the shoulder fit and it has leg slits on both sides that show your thighs, which is almost scandalous because it is very high up on the leg. It is a form-fitting dress so it shows off all of your curves in the correct way. You pick your 5-inch stiletto black heels to go with the outfit, and it matches perfectly, so you are super excited. You pick out your other outfits which are summer clothes mostly shorts and crop tops or tank tops with sandals or pretty dresses. You pick the first outfit that you were going to be wearing that next morning to see them which was a black and white checkered crop top with biker shorts and black converses.

When everything is packed and you wind down from the day you finally get to sleep, you get up early the following day, ready to go to the airport. You get up and get dressed to get on your flight, and you are wearing white shorts with a light and dark blue ombre crop top with white flip-flops. As you get on your flight, you are a little nervous, but you get over it pretty quickly because everything is going smoothly, and you are still excited to see the boys. You are slowly starting to come down off cloud nine by remembering you have feelings for one of the members, Zabdiel.

He was so shy and did not show his feelings that much to the rest of the world, but to you and his family. He was always bubbly and fun to be around; one of the last things you remember was the kiss he left you with. You thought about that kiss for a while after it happened because it was one of the softest kisses that you did not want to end. His lips felt like the light mist of cotton candy that touches your lips, leaving you wanting more. When you reminisce over the kiss and how he acted the last time you meet, you realize that Zab might have been slightly jealous. The kiss sealed the deal of how he felt about you and how you felt about him, and leaving so suddenly after might have changed that, so right now, there are more questions that you have to ask him.

(Richard POV)

I really wish (Y/N) would get here. I need to see her and miss her so much. I’m glad that she agreed to come and join us. We haven't talked as much this year but especially since the towel dropped. I am still super embarrassed about it, but we talked about it, and she seemed as if she was okay but I still do not fully know how she felt. I don't want to lose her as a friend because of it, so I want to make sure she is okay. But I know last time I tried to talk to her, Zab got upset because he has a crush on her. I don't want to get in the way that he is always so much happier when (Y/N) is around.

(Zabdiel POV)

I can't believe that (Y/N) will be here really soon. We have not seen her in almost one year. I missed (Y/N) so much, and I still have not forgotten about that kiss from last year; it was terrific. Her lips felt like smooth silk with just the slightest touch of soft and velvety flower petals, and I still remember the hint of strawberry that I tasted from her flavored lipstick. I still feel the same way about her and she makes me feel different than any other girl I have been with before. I just hope that she somewhat understands how I feel about her, if not then it will be hard to explain to her without embarrassing myself.

--- Skips to the next day---

(Y/N) POV

I am driving to Florida so I packed everything and headed out at 1 a.m. since it is an 8-hour drive and we want to spend the whole day together. I wanna go to sleep after this drive because so many people do not know how to drive. Like did they get their license from a freaking cracker jack box? But besides that, I had a music playlist setup and CNCO was the most of the songs. I liked their renditions of other songs from the Déjà Vu album. So that whole album was played about 3 times on repeat.

Once I got kind of close I was going to call the boys and let them know that I was only 45 minutes away from the Four Seasons at Orlando. When Richard answered the phone I heard Christopher laughing in the background which made me laugh. Then I told Richard I was only about 40-45 minutes away and he said okay cool see you soon (Y/N). I found it strange because he would normally talk to me for about 5-10 minutes before getting off of the phone. But I kept driving wondering why he ended the call so abruptly was it something I had done?

When I got there I let them know that I was outside and about 2 minutes later I saw them come outside the building. I went to hug the first person I had seen which was Erick, he had this adorable smile he looked different from the last time. He seemed more confident in who he was which was radiating off of him. Then I saw Joel had changed and had gotten more buff and had grown out his facial hair. He said, "I missed you”. You smiled and hugged each other.

When you look over you see Christopher and you both immediately start laughing at each other for no reason like normal. He hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him. He is still goofy and adorable and you hug him laughing. After laughing with Chris you look over to see Richard he looks at you and then looks down for a moment, you ask him if he is okay. He says yeah and you give him a confused look but you still hug him. Then you see Zabdiel, he smiles at me and stretches out his arms, and blurts out "I love you". Dead silence fell between the six of you, you stared at him and were about to speak he quickly turned and ran into the hotel. You are about to go after him but they tell you to wait a few minutes. You reluctantly agree and grab your bags, they help out but you ask Richard to stay back real quick to chat.

The other boys look but don't say anything, you ask him what is going on because he has been acting differently recently. He said in a higher pitch than normal "everything is okay'' you step in front of him and tell him to stop lying to you. He sighs and lets you know that he was still thinking of what happened last time with the towel. I reassured him that it was okay and for him not to be embarrassed about it and let's have a fun trip.

He smiles and you both shake on it and pinky promises not to bring it up again. Both of us are back inside and y'all are both starting to get into the elevator and he is asking how college is going. You tell him why you needed a break and get out of the elevator and he says "That sounds like a lot to do dang" you laugh and said, "so do you and the other boys, another album videos and choreography." He smiles and when you arrive at the Presidential Suite he gets the key card and puts it in the door.

It looked stunning and you marvel at all of the stuff that was inside, you smile but then and see all of the boys except Zab. You ask where he went and they said the room right there and all point at it even though the room is supposed to fit 2 people we made accommodations. I walked back there and asked Zab if he was okay. He just stared at me for a moment. He got up and walked towards me and as he was walking I could see a smirk starting to form on his face. When he came up to me threw me against the wall and kissed me…

Stay tuned for part 3!

#cnco #cnco fanfic #cncowners #cnco imagine #cnco fluff #christopher velez #richard camacho #joel pimentel #zabdiel de jesus #erick brian colon #cnco richard #cnco chris #cnco erick #cnco zabdiel #cnco joel

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hailing-stars · 3 years

Text

@febuwhump day 14

meddling kids

summary

“Ned, you’re a genius,” says Peter. “We’ll just play some cupid, get them together for real, and they’ll be so distracted we can go back to movie days at the Tower.��

“Because that plan doesn’t have the potential to turn into a big, fucking disaster,” says MJ.

“It’ll be fine,” says Peter. “It’ll be good. It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Even they deserve to be happy.”

Peter attempts to meddle in Sam and Bucky’s relationship, and Flash meddles in Peter’s and MJ’s.

Rain hits the windows of Avengers Tower, and Peter pulls MJ a little bit closer. His eyes are glued to the TV screen, where it’s also raining, and where the two leads in the cheesy, rom-com Ned had switched on argue in the midst of the downpour. It isn’t long before the argument turns to kissing.

“That’s so romantic,” says Peter. That’s really what he’d rather be doing. Kissing MJ in the rain.

“Dude,” says Flash, shoving a fist full of popcorn in his mouth, from where he sat on the floor. “You’re such a sap.”

Peter scrunches up his face. “I’m not a sap.”

“Kind of are,” says Ned.

Peter turns to MJ for help, and their faces are so close, their noses almost brush up against each other. Forget the rain. He’d rather be kissing her now, in the common room, on the Avengers favorite couch.

“You’re totally a sap,” she tells him. “But you’re my sap.”

“You two are disgusting,” says Flash. “Just get a room and let Ned and I finish watching this in peace.”

Peter doesn’t think that sounds like such a bad idea, and he’s about to say so when he’s startled into sitting up straight.

“Parker!”

He turns his head and sees Sam and Bucky entering the common area.

“Oh,” says Peter. He and MJ scoot to opposite ends of the couch, as if it mattered and they hadn’t already been seen. “Um, hey Sam. Bucky.”

“What is this?” asks Sam, gesturing to the common room. “What have we told you about using the Tower as your own personal clubhouse for you and your school friends?”

“That I’m definitely welcomed to do it?”

“Well that’s one interpretation of hell no,” says Bucky.

Peter could strange both of them right there on the spot. They’re the annoying big brothers he never wanted, and he hates how they only ever agree with each other when it disadvantages him in some way.

“Take your Scooby Squad and scram,” says Sam.

“We’re not the Scooby Squad,” says Flash. He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, and his hand stays in the bowl of popcorn. “We’re the FlashMob, don’t forget it.”

“We’re not the FlashMob,” says Ned. “We’re the FOS gang.”

“FOS?” questions Bucky.

“Friends of Spider-Man,” answers Ned.

“Meddling kids seems more appropriate,” says Sam. “Parker. Get them out.”

“If we’re the Scooby Squad you’re the grumpy old men,” says Peter, with a sigh. He stands, snatches the bowl of popcorn from Flash, and orders Friday to switch off the movie.

Peter, MJ, Ned and Flash file out the room, listening to Sam and Bucky as their bickering turns towards each other. Apparently Bucky’s chosen spot on the couch was where Sam sits, apparently the throw pillow Sam claims actually belongs to Bucky, and so on.

“I swear,” says Peter. “They bicker more than Mr. Stark and Gerald.”

“Gerald?” asks MJ.

“He’s going through a phase.”

“Well it’s obvious why they bicker,” MJ tells them.

All three stare at her.

“..It is?” asks Ned.

“Come on, guys,” says MJ. “It’s classic. They’re in love.”

All eyes turn back to the couch. They’re both sitting at opposite ends and they both take turns telling Friday to switch the channel on the TV. Doesn’t seem like a very productive war. Peter develops whiplash from just standing off in the background, watching the TV screen flip back and forth between Jaws and some old timey black and white film.

“I bet they just kicked us out so they could be alone together,” she continues.

“Enemies to lovers?” asks Ned, still staring at them, with a tilted head.

“I’d ship it,” says Flash.

“Wish they’d get a room, or an apartment,” says Ned. “So we could get back to our movie day.”

“Ned, you’re a genius,” says Peter. “We’ll just play some cupid, get them together for real, and they’ll be so distracted we can go back to movie days at the Tower.”

“Because that plan doesn’t have the potential to turn into a big, fucking disaster,” says MJ.

“It’ll be fine,” says Peter. “It’ll be good. It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Even they deserve to be happy.”

MJ kisses him on the cheek, and links his arm with hers as they march off towards the elevators.

“You really are such a sap,” she tells him, a fondness in her tone that causes Peter to realize he doesn’t actually mind being a romantic so much, not when MJ was the one saying it.

Peter leads Bucky down the season aisles at Target, and figures he’s really on his last shot of this cupid business.

He hasn’t exactly been subtle over the last couple of days. Bucky’s already wondering why Peter had insisted on him tagging along on his trip to Target with him.

They pass by heart shaped boxes of candy, and Peter digs through the bin of cute stuffed animals until he finds a unicorn. When he squeezes it, it’s teeth turn pointy and it’s eyes turn mean. It’s perfect.

“For MJ?” asks Bucky.

“No way, man,” says Peter. He turns his attention to the chocolate boxes with cartoon characters printed on the front, and grabs the one with “I got her presents months ago. This stuff is for Morgan.”

“How’s Stark handling Valentine's Day as a father, anyway?”

“He loves it,” says Peter. “He’s a little bit obsessed, actually. He wants Morgan to pass out the best Valentine's cards in her class, so he stayed up all night designing them online and he’s having candy delivered for some fancy chocolate shop in Germany.”

“I don’t think kids really care about fancy chocolate,” says Bucky, and Peter watches as he eyes the boxes of chocolate. His eyes go back and forth between two different brands.

“They don't,” says Peter. “But they do if you bribe the chocolate makers into molding the chocolate into the replicas of famous Avengers.”

Bucky doesn’t respond. All his focus is on the candies.

“What kind of chocolate do you think Sam likes?” asks Peter.

Bucky snaps his head around and narrows his eyes at him. “Why would you ask that?”

Peter shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe we should get him some. It’d be nice.”

Bucky stares at him, and Peter shuffles his feet around, dying to come out with his suggestion that he and Sam should just go out already. That they’ll be a lot happier together, way less grumpy.

“How do you know?” asks Bucky.

“How what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I don’t have to play dumb,” says Peter. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Come on,” says Bucky. “What’s the deal with you crawling around on the ceiling hanging mistletoe above wherever Sam and I are standing? Or that night you made us dinner and set the table with candles and rose petals?”

“I was just being nice. Who doesn’t like roses?”

“I know you know about me and Sam,” says Bucky. “So quit harassing us, and keep your mouth shut about it.”

“Wait…. You and Sam… are already together?” asks Peter, with a gasp of disbelief. “I was trying to set you up!”

“You didn’t know?” asks Bucky. “We thought you knew and were being an asshole about it.”

“Holy shit,” says Peter. He shifts Morgan’s presents to one hand, and pulls his phone out of his pocket with the other. “I gotta tell MJ.”

Bucky swipes his phone. “You can’t tell anybody. We’re keeping it a secret for now.”

“Fine, fine,” says Peter. “Secret safe with me.”

“No secret is safe with you, Parker,” Bucky tells him, before marching past him, and to the next aisle where he continues looking for Sam’s present.

Peter frowns. He’s got no clue why people think he’s incapable of keeping things secret.

Peter manages to keep Sam and Bucky’s relationship to himself, until the day of the Midtown High Valentine’s day dance. And it’s not exactly Peter’s fault. He isn’t exactly to see the two of them in his school’s gym, with linked arms, wearing identical grins.

“You two cannot be here,” whispers Peter. His eyes darted around the gym, at all his classmates, somehow forgetting no connection could realistically be made between Peter Parker and two Avengers.

“Sure we can,” says Bucky. “We’re chaperones.”

“And I’m Captain America. I can go anywhere.”

“I hate you both,” says Peter.

Sam claps him on the shoulder. “Consider this revenge.”

“For what?!?”

“For being annoying,” says Bucky.

“And young,” adds Sam. “And for torturing us with mistletoes.”

“Oh, look,” says MJ, emerging from the crowd of students on the dance floor. “I was right. Who’s surprised?”

“Yeah, congratulations,” says Sam. “Now take your irritatingly observant selves over to the refreshment table, get yourselves some Scooby snacks and leave us to our chaperoning.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s ready to put so much distance between himself and the old, grumpy chaperones. He and MJ are crossing the dance floor when they’re favorite song starts to play, but it’s something else that grabs Peter’s attention.

It’s Flash, standing on the bleachers, holding a lighter up to the smoke alarm.

“THIS IS FOR YOU PENIS PARRKKKERRRR,” he yells across the gym, just as the smoke alarm blares to life.

He’s confused, until sprinklers on the ceiling turn on, and water begins to rain down on the entire student body, soaking dresses and suits and splashing into the probably already spiked punch bowl.

“I guess you were right about something too,” says MJ, with a small smile. They’re standing in the middle of the dance floor, while most others run and duck for cover under chairs or in the hallway, while Bucky and Sam chase Flash around the gym. “This is kind of romantic.”

“I can start an argument with you,” says Peter. He hooks his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. “If you want it to be like the movies.”

“Nah,” she tells him. “We can skip that part.”

She brushes his soaked hair out of his face, and they kiss. It’s every bit as romantic as it is in the movies.

#febuwhumpday14 #my fic #spideychelle #flash Thompson is a good bro #kissing in the rain

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softguks · 4 years

Note

angst drabble with jungkook please? HIT ME WITH THE PAIN. COME AT ME BRO. i’m probably going to regret this LMFAO

primroses

order description. Jungkook’s always missing you, it’s just on a rainy day that’s also your anniversary that he’s missing you the most.

customers. jeon jungkook / reader course. angst / teeny tiny bit of fluff :’) total bill. 1.5k words allergies. angst, character death (major), grieving, pain, crying :(

note ! @sketchguk thank you for being there for me during my rambles of how insecure i am about my writing sjwjsjsjjs. if the read more doesn’t work on mobile, i’m sorry :(

— primroses: i can’t live without you, eternal love

Jungkook’s made this trip more times than he count, comes probably every other week or so, and has visited so many times that he could probably get here with his eyes closed —even though that wouldn’t be very smart— but for some reason, today feels harder than normal.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the ridges of his knuckles going white as he clenches his jaw, chest heaving with each shaky breath that fills his lungs. The skin under his dark circles is tinged pink, red-rimmed eyes staring out into the distance as he musters you the courage to grow some balls and get out of his car. His legs feel like deadweights, and he can barely get himself out of the driver’s seat, eyes cast downward at the cracks and divots in the concrete. He follows each line and chasm in the asphalt that’s stained with rainwater. The squishy sounds of his shoes against the freshly trimmed, damp grass momentarily distracts him from his thoughts. Drops of dew cling precariously onto the blades of grass, glittering like jewels. He looks for anything and everything to get his mind off of her. His heart feels heavier today, the ache that resounds in his heart worsening with each day that passes.

Tears sting the base of his eyes, pooling in the corners of his doe eyes as he sniffles, struggling to hide the trembling of his body and the quivering of his bottom lip. Pearly, white teeth graze over the plump flesh of his bottom lip as he tightens his grip on the bouquet of flowers in his hand. His feet seem as if they are glued to the ground, imprinted in the soft and slightly damp, muddy patch of grass. Squatting down, he places the bouquet of primroses next to the structure, the pad of his thumb gently brushing against the yellow and pink petals. He glances up at the sky, trying his hardest to blink back the burning tears that threaten to slide down his cheeks.

Carding slender fingers through brown hair, he swallows the lump in his throat, unable to hide the pain that swallows him whole. It throbs in his chest, eating him out from the inside, burning him alive. It hurts, hurts so bad that some days he can’t get out of bed. Some days, his hyungs have to drag him out of bed for him to function. Some days, the most he can do is take a shower and down a glass of water before it all hits him like a truck again, and the pain becomes too much too handle. It’s funny, how bright and full of life he used to be. And now, he’s just a ghost, a husky of a human being, a lifeless soul residing in a shell.

It feels different without you. It feels wrong, it feels weird, and he hates it. It feels wrong to come back to a place he can’t even call home without you waiting with open arms. It feels wrong not to see your pair of shoes placed on the shoe rack next to his Timberlands, without your set of keys plopped in the little bowl at the front entrance, without your smile brightening his day. It feels too quiet, without the low hum of the dryer in the background, the illuminated TV playing softly, the bubbling of a boiling pot on the stove, the padding of your footsteps as you run to him. It feels wrong to sink down into the couch, waiting for you to run from your shared bedroom with lotion in one hand and a blanket in the other. He finds himself wanting nothing more than for the world to swallow him up whole as he barely lives through the days.

It feels wrong for him to fall asleep at night, without you curled up in his arms, the soft snores tumbling from your parted lips, your soft locks of hair fanned out around your head like a halo. He finds himself glancing over to the empty side of the bed more times than he cares to admit, unable to fall asleep because it’s too quiet and too cold. He misses the warmth that radiates from your sleeping figure, the beauty that astounds him when shards of silver moonlight illuminate your figure with a soft glow. It feels wrong to eat dinner alone, missing the warmth and homely feeling of your home-cooked meals. Recently, he’s been eating at the dorms to avoid feeling so lonely and lost in his thoughts.

Performing on stage is the worst. It doesn’t bring him the same euphoric feeling of pure bliss as it used to. He finds himself staring into the distance, at that one spot in the arena where you would normally preside, a proud smile playing across your rosy lips, your eyes bright with excitement. The thrill of it all, the rush of adrenaline, the cheering of the crowd, and the magical warmth that used to throb in his veins is now not enough. It takes too much out of him to sing the songs that were carefully crafted for you, to pour out his heart to someone who isn’t there anymore.

Jungkook finds himself falling deeper and deeper into a hole he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to climb out of.

He places the flowers down, next to the engraving in the stone, next to the plaque with your name carved on it. He lets the tears flow freely from his eyes, wide, broken, and blank eyes filled with more anguish than the amount of space in the universe. His heart quite literally shatters at the thought of your angelic smile. His voice comes out in a breathy murmur, soft and soothing as he gently traces the lines on the stone.

“Hey. I-I’m here again. God, this is so fucking stupid isn’t it? I’m sorry, it just-just hurts so much. I haven’t figured out how to live without you. It hurts too much to not see you, to not be able to touch you, to not be able to have you in my life. I love you, I love you so fucking much and if that means pouring my heart out to you on a rainy day, then so be it. You are the light of my life, and you’d probably be scolding me for crying, for dwelling on my feelings, but I can’t help it. I was going to marry you. I decided that I was going to propose on our anniversary, which is actually today.”

The words are falling from his mouth before he can stop them, and he can taste the saltiness from his tears on the tip of his tongue, and yet even the streams of grief aren’t enough to wash away the anguish that envelopes his entire being. It feels as though he’s drowning, the water rising faster than he can fight it, filling his lungs and yet there’s nothing he can do but breathe it in.

“I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d decided, and we’d talked about our wedding, and the color dress you wanted, the flavor of cake we’d decided on, and we decided we were going to have kids. I had the ring ready, I made a reservation two weeks before just to make sure it would be at your favorite restaurant. I bought my suit already, I had the whole day planned out. In fact, I almost proposed to you that day in the diner, at two o’clock in the morning and goddamnit I wish I did. But I’m just too much of a coward and I loved you too much, getting lost in your eyes as you laughed over some shitty joke. It would’ve been worth it, to be promised as yours even if it only lasted two weeks. I’m never going to stop loving you, and I know you hate it when I cry, but I just have to tell you. If only I-“

Another sob tears through his throat, disrupting the peaceful silence that has settled in the quiet field of flowers. All of a sudden, his body is shaking with the sobs that erupt from his throat, the bitter scars and broken pieces of his heart pouring out of him. He waits a few moments, steadying his breathing and piecing himself back together before he continues. He has to finish, he can’t bear to hold onto the feelings anymore. They sit like burdens on his chest as another sleepless night passes, they hang onto the tips of his fingers when he grips onto the tear-stained sheets. He waits until he feels ready to continue.

“I brought you flowers. Primroses. And you’re probably thinking that I’m such a cheesy dork for it, and I am, but they’re primroses because the florist told me they mean eternal love. This sounds so fucking stupid but it’s worth it if it makes you smile. I wish I could see you smile again. But, I have to go now, Jimin-hyung will murder me if I don’t make it to dance practice on time. I’ll see you next week, hm? God, I probably sound like an idiot right now. I’ve always been your idiot though.”

He wipes away the wet patches of salty liquid that stain his cheeks, the skin around his puffy eyes blotchy, streaked with tears. But there’s a small, half-tender half-sad smile playing across his lips when he finishes.

For the first time in a long while, Jungkook smiles a genuine, real smile.

“I love you, I really hope you know that.”

the read more link doesn’t work on mobile, i’m sorry 🥺 thank u for reading pls reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!!

#softguks #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

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elfy-elf-imagines · 4 years

Text

Return to Me P.II | Lindir

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Lindir x Human!reader

Genre: Fluff, pure fluff

Warnings: Potential toothaches...??

Words: 2,174

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page! 12 years later we get Part 2 and the reunion of my two beans ♡

The sun is partially bright on this day, it seems, as if the sky itself is celebrating the return of Gondor’s king. Wind dances through the courtyard, making dance partners with everyone in the crowd, moving your dress with its beat. Your hair, pinned in a simple hairstyle often worn by the elves, is curled to perfection, bouncing in tune with birds singing in the distance. There’s a stupidly large grin on your face, one that you don’t care to try and force away. Everything in the past year or so has led to this very moment, every impossible moment and near death experience made it possible for peace to truly be restored to the realms as Aragorn takes his throne. The crowd is silent, watching the coronation with bated breath and wide eyes, excited and hopeful for the new chapter in their lives. Some people near the front desperately move around, trying to get a better look.

“Now comes the day of the king, may they be blessed!” Gandalf proclaims as he lowers the crown on Aragorn’s head. Aragorn smiles up at Gandalf, the same soothing smile that makes it easy to understand Arwen’s love for him and makes it even easier to understand the love the people hold for him. He stands from his kneeling position, turning to face the cheering crowd. His cloak billows dramatically behind him, showing off his perfectly polished armor, that glimmers with the regalness expected of a king. One hand rests on the pommel of his blade while his other is outstretched.

��This day does not belong to one man, but to all. Let us together rebuild this world; that we may share in the days of peace.” He holds both of his hands out, his voice soft, yet confident, speaking as Elessar, the King of Gondor, the rightful heir returned to his throne; not Strider, the Ranger in the North. He commands the attention of everyone just by simply being in a room, never needing to raise his voice higher than a comfortable talking volume.

You glance at Gimli beside you, his wild red hair and beard somewhat tamed for the special event, the beads in his hair that accessorize his braids glint brightly in the sun. He holds a plush velvet pillow that moments prior Aragorn’s crown that adorns his head used to rest on. He wears a large grin you’re sure is also on your face, as relieved and ecstatic for the new era as you. You move your gaze back to Aragorn, white blossoms from The White Tree blowing in the wind, captivating your attention. Like a child catching snow, you hold out a hand, hoping to capture a blossom or two. You manage to get three. You close your hand around them, feeling the silky petals on your skin. A moment later, you open your hand and blow on the flowers, urging them to continue flying through the wind.

And they do, they dance in the air, a beautiful waltz you could never hope to mimic.

Aragorn descends down the stairs, nodding his head at every familiar face he passes. The procession of elves march forward, but it’s not the uptight and rigid way they march into battle, no it’s too relaxed and loose for that. Legolas steps forward, wearing ceremonial garb fitting of an elven prince, him and Aragorn clasping each other's arm. Aragorn says something to him, too quiet for you to hear. Legolas smirks, and moves his head to the left. The elves behind him move forward, one of them holding a particularly large banner, the sigil on it familiar.

A bright smile forms on your face and your eyes practically glow in excitement. You’ve seen that banner a million times, when you would walk up and down the halls of Imladris, hung in the Hall of Fire, and even in your bedroom. She’s here, she’s really here. You knew that she wouldn’t leave for Valinor without a fight, but seeing her here, in person, puts out any lingering doubt.

Slowly, she moves the banner aside, confirming it to be Arwen, beautiful and radiant as ever. She wears a pale green flowy dress, it’s fabric light and airy, the style common for elves, a stark difference to the heavy and thick dresses of Gondor and Rohan. A headpiece forged from silver and inlaid with dozens of glittering gems adorns her head, crowing her lucious black hair that falls down her back like a lazy waterfall. Her pale skin glows in the warm sunlight, her eyes sparkling from the tears forming.

For a moment, Aragorn and Arwen stare at each other, one watching the other with amazement and love in their eyes. The crowd is dead silent, everyone intently watching the scene unraveling before them. Then Aragorn steps forward, grabbing onto the banner and pulling it away. And then he lunges forward, capturing her lips into a kiss. She laughs in delight, throwing her arms around his as he lifts her into the air, spinning her around. They pull away for a moment and she places her dainty hands on his face, leaning forward and placing a short and sweet kiss on his lips.

The crowd around them begins clapping loudly, warmly greeting their new queen. And it didn’t register in your mind that this might be the first time most of these people have seen an elf this close up. But then you saw the looks of wonder and amazement on the faces of some citizens, children excitedly pulling on the skirts of their mothers, pointing wildly at Arwen and the other elves.

You continue watching the newly reunited pair, your face growing numb from the large smile that is permanently etched on your face. You scan the crowd, seeing Lord Elrond, with a soft smile on his face; Glorfindel beside him; Elladan and Elrohir behind his father to the right. You continue scanning the crowd, but then your heart stops, only to begin beating again faster than ever before.

Standing amidst the other elves, wearing silken and beautiful ceremonial garb, probably the most pristine outfit he owns, is Lindir. His black hair is glossy, every strand in its place, pulled back in an intricate elven braid. He wears a silver circlet, fitting for an elf of his status, the tip of it resting on his forehead. His skin is glowing, not as intensely as Arwen, but captivating to you. His cheeks are stained a pale red, a beautiful smile on his face. His blue eyes move to you and for the first time in over a year, your eyes meet. You feel a jolt of electricity run through your body, heart beat increasing in pace.

Your smile widens, if possible, and you can’t tear your gaze away from him. Even when Aragorn and Arwen begin to move through the crowd, your eyes stay locked on him. When you, along with everyone else, bow for the Hobbits, your eyes only flit away for a second before returning to their previous position. And when the crowds begin to disperse, everyone mingling with one another as they lazily move towards the feast portion of the Coronation, you stay locked in place.

“You coming, lassi?” Gimli’s gruff voice interrupts your thoughts, but his voice is so far away, you weren’t sure if he was still by you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, moving your gaze back to Lindir, still in his same spot.

“Yeah...I’ll be there in a moment,” you mutter, not sure if he even hears the words that fall from your mouth. He scoffs in amusements and shakes his head before moving away with Gandalf, muttering something about young love.

You take one step forward, Lindir mimicking your movements.

You take another step and so does Lindir.

Once your feet touch the stone steps, your mind suddenly comes alive, as if water got thrown over your body. As if you only have a few moments to live, you rush towards Lindir, weaving through the lingering people with the grace of a baby elephant. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the wild stares or accusing words falling from people’s lips. The only thing you can focus on is Lindir, and feeling his lips against yours.

Three.

Two.

One.

The distance between you two disappears as you throw your arms around him, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric of his robes beneath your fingers. He’s warm and inviting and everything you missed while travelling with The Fellowship. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling as close as physically possible. The smell of mountain air, fields of grass, and rose oil hits your senses, pulling you deeper and deeper into your bliss. He’s real and he’s here. You deeply inhale once more, allowing this moment to sink in, immersing yourself in the moment.

You move your head to face him, throwing your head back in delight as a stream of laughter leaves your mouth. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, one of his hands winding around your waist and the other lightly cupping your face. Like magnets you move closer to one another, staring deeply into each other’s eyes with dumb smiles on your face.

“You came back to me,” he whispers, the words tickling your lips.

“I came back,” you reply.

You don’t remember who did it, all you know is his lips are now on yours, connecting them in a kiss. His lips are soft against yours, filling your whole body with a fire, burning away the ice that formed in his absence. Your heart soars, long past the point of just beating rapidly against your chest. You feel light, like you’re made of air and you’ll fly away any second without Lindir holding you in place. All the noise and background people fade away, until there’s nothing but this moment. And you can’t help but smile in the kiss when Lindir laughs, the noise swallowed by your mouth.

And in that moment you decide there’s nothing better than kissing someone while they laugh.

You pull a whisper away, moving a hand to trace the outlines of his face. His skin is smooth and perfect, the shining example of the perfection of elves. His blue eyes are like oceans, clear and bright and vividly blue. And if every ocean looked like this, you wouldn’t mind drowning as long as it was in him.

“I told you it would take more than Mordor to get rid of me,” you mumble softly, smiling brightly at him, shining like the sun currently bathing the two of you in it’s radiance.

“Apologies for ever doubting you, meleth-nin,” he responds, returning your smile tenfold.

Another breeze rushes through the courtyard, rustling your dress and Lindir’s hair. You laugh, the sound being swept away in the wind, singing in tune with the birds that have swept into the courtyard. Some spare white blossoms continue dancing through the sky, gently landing on Lindir’s head. He reaches up, delicately grabbing it, careful to not crush the pristine petals. He moves his hand to your hair, tucking the flower into one of your braids near the front of your face. You're practically glowing now, a beaming smile overcoming your face. And with your body practically vibrating from happiness, standing under the sun, you look like an otherworldly being. And if not for your round ears on clear display, some passersby might mistake you for an elf.

You lean forward, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to his lips, tasting the remnants of sweet berries on his lips. They were always his favorite, a fresh bowl of them always resting on his desk, only to be devoured within an hour.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, still smiling like an idiot.

“No more than I love you,” he responds, a teasing undertone buried in his words. You pull back, eyes alight with overwhelming happiness. It’s over, everything with Sauron, Mordor, orcs, and that stupid ring is over, it has been for months. But now it feels real, standing here, wrapped up in Lindir as he smiles sweetly at you.

“I respectfully disagree.”

“And I respectfully disagree with your disagreement,” he fires back, grin getting wider and wider with each quip spoken.

“And I respectfully disagree with your respectful disagreement,” you respond, matching his teasing tone, laughter hidden under each word.

“Well I --” he’s cut off by a hand touching your shoulder. Turning around you see Glorfindel standing there, obviously holding back the laughter that’s bubbling inside him, a beaming smile on his youthful face.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my friends, but we do have a celebration to attend to,” he says, nodding towards the crowd of people leaving.

“Of course,” Lindir replies, moving to stand to your left, holding out his arm to you. You slip your arm into his without hesitation. “Let us be off, My Lady.”

“With pleasure, My Lord.”

o0o0o0o0o

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#lindir imagine #lindir x reader #Lindir oneshot #lindir #LOTR #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings Drabble #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #Imladris imagine #imladris #imladris elves #rivendell elves #rivendell imagine #post lotr #fluffy

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zannilove · 2 years

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Eleventh Day of Christmas (12/23)

Title: They Were Roommates Theme: Mistle Toe Fandom/Character(s): Tokyo Revengers/ Senju x fem!OC Warnings: alcohol/drunk characters Word Count: 670

Music bumping. People chattering. Drinks spilling on the floor.

It wasn’t exactly what Senju thought that she would be doing on Christmas Eve, but her roommate begged her to come out of the dorms and join her ‘just this one time’. That was a phrase that always seemed to get her every time, even though she knew that it wouldn’t be the last time they would be going out. This time, it wasn’t the usual college party, it was something that she was throwing at her parent’s house.

“Are you having fun?” A brunette woman asked, plopping down on the arm of the chair Senju was sitting on, two drinks in hand. The small pink haired girl looked up at the brunette, a halfhearted smile flashing for just a moment. “Great!” she said, thrusting the red cup into the girl’s hand.

“Rina, you know I don’t drink.” Senju sighs, swirling the mystery liquid around in the cup. Rina plugged her ears chanting lala’s for a moment before chuckling, slipping into the pink haired girl’s lap.

“I know, but you promised that you would let loose!”

“I am, I danced while you weren’t looking, with that guy.” Senju explained, pointing at a blond guy that was standing off in the corner, tapping away at his phone. Rina didn’t buy it, she was always watching, and she didn’t see Senju doing anything since she sat in that chair.

“Why not dance with me?” Rina cooed, throwing her arms around her roommate, the liquid from her cup splashing over the pair as she hugged the pink haired girl tightly.

The scent of alcohol flooded Senju’s nostrils, it was a bitter smell that she didn’t like, but she couldn’t help but laugh. The pair giggled at the nothingness, electro-Christmas mix music blaring in the background. Rina’s violet eyes peered into Senju’s emerald ones, the way they sparkled underneath the party lights were mesmerizing.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Senju’s face twisted her pale eyebrows knitting together as she stared back at the brunette.

“You’re so beautiful, Senju.” Rina brought her hand to Senju’s face, caressing the smooth warm skin. “Like, seriously, y’know?”

The pair continued to stare into each other’s eyes until they were interrupted by an excited party boy, his streaky black and white hair and clothes a soggy mess. In his hand he held a bustle of mistletoe by its decorative ribbon. The green ball spun above the two girls’ heads as he cheered for them to kiss, loudly interrupting the party. They looked up at the tiny green bushel then back at each other. Rina smiled wide; her excited eyes upturned as she looked back up at the mistletoe.

“So?” her eyes flickered between her roommate and the mistletoe. Senju flashed an awkward smile with a small shrug.

The two girls inched closer to each other; Senju could feel her heart pounding against her chest. This feeling, this excitement was much different than back when she was a fighter, it was a softer excitement. Her heart beat faster as the brunette got closer. It was a playful pattern that she took notice of, faster, closer. Faster and hotter? That’s when it happened, the most expected of unexpected moments, Rina kissed her. She actually did it this time.

It wasn’t like all the other times when she would come home drunk, professing her undying love for her, no this was absolutely magical. Her lips were so soft, like the rose petals in the bouquet of flowers Rina had given Senju for missing her speech. They were sweet, yet bitter from the drink that she had been sipping before this. Senju was wondering what the sweetness was, raspberries?

The pleasure of their lips moving against one another was starting to make the younger girl uncomfortable, she could feel sparks flying. The sounds of the party starting to ring in her ears once again, Rina pulled away before Senju could push her away, jumping off the younger’s lap, her face a deep red.

“Rina?”

“I love you Senju… I always have.” Rina mumbled, barely audible over the music and merriment of the party. Her violet eyes peered down at her twiddling fingers. Senju smiled up at the older girl, her shy façade not suiting her as much as the overly outgoing party girl that she truly was. She blinked slowly and brought her hands to her chest.

“I know.”

#12daysofChristmas2021 #fanfiction #holiday fanfic #christmas fanfiction #christmas challenge #tokyo revengers #tokrev #senju kawaragi #senju tokyo revengers #senju fluff

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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August Contest Submission #9: Forget-Me-Not

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: Cannon AU shortly after Frozen II (Anna and Kristoff are just friends :P) Lemon: No CW: None

-o-o-o-o-o-

The soft autumn breeze gently brushed against her skin with the delicacy of the finest silk krones could buy. A sudden shiver from the cool air brought a delightful tingle up Anna’s spine and she found herself tightening her grip against her sister’s hand.

The recently-named Queen of Arendelle glanced towards her side, captivated at the sight of her older sister’s flowing blonde hair and glittering white dress. The fabric behaved in a manner perfectly fitting for the fifth spirit; flowing through the air as if Elsa truly had no definite form to be categorized by other than her shimmering beauty.

“Need something?” Anna watched the words slip past her sister’s lip while quirking her eyebrow upwards.

The blood couldn’t rush faster to Anna’s freckled cheeks. She nearly jumped at being caught admiring the only person within miles of the two. Her light blue eyes darted ahead.

“J-just wondering if you know where you’re going?” She coughed and tried to recover some of her embarrassment.

The excuse seemed appropriate. It had only been a few weeks since the Enchanted Forest had been revealed to the rest of the world. Even if Elsa had been living with the Northuldra for a period of time, it was still a vast, mysterious new environment. It wasn’t exactly clear if Elsa knew how to give a proper tour of the area.

“Hm, are you worried that I’ll lead us down the wrong path your majesty?” Elsa smirked in jest.

It was practically involuntary for Anna to respond with rolled eyes. Elsa took to calling her “Majesty” quite quickly it seemed.

“Gale?” Elsa asked aloud.

In that moment Anna felt a gentle push from behind and a flurry of autumn leaves slipping through her hair as they directed the two women forward. Of course the spirits of these magical woods would come at her sister’s beck and call. The former Queen beside her…being the fifth spirit of this world. The mere idea was still so ethereal.

“So you don’t know where you’re going. You need Gale to lead the way?” She bit her lip to keep the laughter inside.

“Oh hush. We’re practically here anyway.”

True to her words, Anna’s eyes widened as the trees of the forest became more sparse with each step. Streaks of sunlight took advantage of the increasing gaps in the leaves, lighting the dirt path ahead. If Anna squinted her eyes she could barely make out the clearing up ahead.

Unable to contain the energy building in her legs and chest, Anna let go of Elsa’s hand to rush ahead. Her long, auburn hair bounced behind her as she raced towards their destination. A splattering of bright colors grew more vibrant as she neared the meadow up ahead. As her eyes adjusted to the color, her focus became sharp and defined.

Sunflowers, chrysanthemums, daisies. Anna counted all the distinct flowers that came into view and found herself in the center of it all. She spun, letting her dress twirl along with the flowers as Gale merrily danced around her. The fragrance of the meadow weaved through the air and melted the stress of their journey from her muscles.

Anna turned, a brilliant smile on her face as she glanced back towards Elsa. The shadows of the trees slipped away from the blonde as she entered the clearing.

“Elsa, it’s beautiful!”

A reserved, yet meaningful smile spread across Elsa’s lips, “A worthy spot for the Queen’s retreat?”

“Well, just about anywhere with you is a worthy place to be.” Anna smiled while reaching out with her hands and grasping Elsa’s. “But this place is amazing!”

Elsa’s pale cheeks suddenly turned bright red and her eyesight drifted downwards. Anna struggled hard to keep her laughter inside at the sight of her flustered companion. However, she was in too high of spirits to attempt to tease.

With a lethargic sigh, Anna released Elsa from her grip and tilted her heels to send herself backwards onto the soft grass beneath. A short grunt escaped her lips as her back hit the ground but a great sigh of contentment followed as her body sprawled outwards.

With closed eyes, her thoughts drifted to the blissful feeling of being away from Arendelle. Of course, she loved her homeland with all her heart and even took an oath to protect Arendelle just as the ruler’s before her. Yes, Arendelle was her home, but so was Elsa and those two things weren’t exactly mutually exclusive anymore.

The sound of Elsa crawling beside her form and laying by her side, caused Anna’s eyes to slightly open. Elsa’s elbow supported her chin as she positioned her body sideways. It was nearly impossible for Anna to avoid traveling down her sister’s outline, reveling in the delicate curves of her bosom, waist and hips.

“I’m glad you like it.” Elsa’s whispered words pleasantly tickled her ears.

“Mmmm.” Anna hummed in approval. “Are we camping here tonight?”

Her sister nodded. “I told Honeymarron and Ryder to meet us here with supplies later tonight.”

“Good…That’s good.” Anna mumbled.

She could feel herself growing increasingly tired with each passing second. But that wouldn’t do. This was her time with Elsa. A luxury that very few had, and something even more precious to her than the entirety of the royal reserves.

She reached her hand to pluck a little flower within reach. A tiny stem rolled in her fingers and her eyes scanned the light blue petals with a bit of confusion. Her brow twisted as she noted the distinct yellow center.

“Forget-me-not?”

“Hm?” Elsa questioned beside her.

“This is a forget-me-not. They aren’t supposed to be around in late November.” Anna spun the flower within her digits, “I wonder why it’s still here.”

Elsa shrugged beside her, “I wouldn’t know. It is the Enchanted Forest so maybe it can flourish here regardless of the season.”

“True…”

Suddenly, a thought sparked through Anna’s head and she twisted her body to face her sister. The space between them shrunk and Anna found her nose mere inches from Elsa’s. The slightest hesitancy flashed through Anna’s mind before disregarding the feeling. They were truly alone in this clearing.

Blue eyes glanced towards the lips before her, and when she glanced towards Elsa’s deep blue iris’ she could see a similar line of sight reflected.

“You know, “ Anna started in a whisper while bringing the flower in her hand closer to Elsa. “Forget-me-nots have plenty of meanings. One being a promise to not forget someone.”

“You don’t say.” Elsa giggled and Anna joined in before slipping the stem through blonde lockes, just above her sister’s ear. The blue petal perfectly matched her eyes.

“But it can also represent a connection that endures all challenges and measure of time.”

“I like that one.” The words passed through lips in a sound so faint, Anna found herself straining to hear them.

The air around them shifted. The lively forest surrounding the two women faded into the background and all Anna could feel was the pulse racing through her veins, pushing her towards something beautiful.

“And they represent true and beautiful memories.”

Anna noticed Elsa give the slightest frown at her words but couldn’t help her eyelids fluttering shut in the moment. She reached out to place her palm along Elsa’s waist. They were alone, Anna reminded herself with her thoughts. They were safe.

Anna leaned her head towards Elsa, finding their foreheads connecting in a moment of bliss and with the slightest tilt of her chin, Anna seeked out the lips she desperately wanted against her own.

A jolt from Elsa had the younger sister’s eyes opening abruptly. She watched Elsa roll her body up into a sitting position, her eyes staring forward, but entirely unfocused. Anna mimicked the blonde’s position and sat upright beside her.

“Is something wrong?” Anna asked hesitantly while watching Elsa pull the flower from her hair and stare at the petals.

It seemed as if Elsa was in a deep trance, far off in thought. With an outreached arm, she placed her palm on her sister’s far shoulder.

“Elsa?”

“I-” Her ears perked at the sound her voice was shaking with a peculiar emotion…Not exactly fear, but something similar. Apprehension?

“Did I do something wrong?” Anna asked carefully.

They had spent plenty of time together. Plenty of nights together. Not once had she seen Elsa react so…peculiarly. Did her breath stink?

When Elsa’s eyes refocused she turned her head and took a moment to process Anna’s question before leaning into her younger sister.

“Anna, you could never do anything wrong. Forgive me. I just…I want to- No I need to take you somewhere.I know this is sudden and unplanned but-”

“Where?”

“It’s um…” Elsa bit her lip before speaking, “…Ahtohallan.”

Anna’s eyes widened at the name. The mythical location that her sister had crossed a literal sea of danger to find. She wanted to take her there?

Fear was the first emotion that Anna felt rising in her chest, followed by confusion and hesitancy. This was all so sudden. Their plans were to camp in the enchanted forest for a few days as a much needed retreat not…No. That didn’t matter, Anna decided. She trusted Elsa and if this was something her sister wanted. She would oblige no matter what.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“Okay?”

Elsa’s eyes observed her face, scanning for what Anna presumed was objection but she was sure her features had been set in nothing but honest determination and trust.

A pleasant rest in a vibrant meadow turned into a whirling adventure. She watched in silent fascination as Elsa called Nokk, the water spirit, from a nearby pond and with a touch of her magic, the horse became shrouded in a gem-like exterior of ice.

While her sister didn’t seem as concerned as she had before, there was an unmistakable tightness that Anna could spot in her stance and poise. When Elsa mounted the spirit she reached her arm outwards towards her younger sister. Anna took the hand confidently and the two were suddenly racing towards what Anna could only presume as the shore.

The rush of wind through her hair would have been a wonderful sensation if not for the strange circumstance of the quest. What had gotten into her sister? Elsa certainly wasn’t the spontaneous type, especially not like herself, and yet it seemed that this journey called to her in a way that was unavoidable.

Anna wrapped her arms under her sister’s arms and took hold around her slender waist. With a tightened embrace, she hoped to ease some of Elsa’s worry that seemed to ooze off her form like a faint fog. Feeling the coolness of the fifth spirit’s garb was soothing in it’s own right as well.

The sun was starting to lower along the horizon and Anna peeked from behind Elsa to see the dazzling sea they were racing towards. The Nokk galloped, unfaltering when the transition from land to ocean began. Anna fixed her eyes below, watching and hearing the hooves of the spirit slam into the surface of the water below, only to turn the shifting liquid into ice on impact.

“Is Attohallen far?” She shouted over the sound of rushing wind. The dimming sunlight was only a slight concern in her mind.

“Not as far as you’d think.” Elsa spoke in a manner akin to light hearted laughter.

Anna smiled, knowing that the feeling of riding the Nokk was the freeing sensation that Elsa craved. It was unmistakable to think her sister wasn’t enjoying journey towards this magical glacier she had only been told about while Elsa had recounted her own perilous adventure a few weeks ago. It made her happy that her sister’s previous concern and anxiety was losing its hold on the woman once more.

Anna closed her eyes and tightened her hold. She cherished the feeling of Elsa in her arms, leaping forth into an unknown adventure. It reminded her of the earlier days in their childhood, when Elsa was far more mischievous, and far less reserved.

Time passed, how quickly, Anna could not say. She merely focused on the clattering sound of Nokk’s steps against the ice below. The next time Anna opened her cerulean eyes, she could see the golden hue of the sunset lowering behind an icy mountain ahead. The sea around the two women was completely covered in pure ice.

“Ahtohallan.” Anna whispered as she guessed their destination was ahead. She leaned to the side to catch the determined look of her sister staring straight ahead.

Shortly after noticing the glacier, Anna realized they were much closer than she thought. Solid ice became packed, dense snow and the Nokk’s movement slowed to a trot.

“Not much further.” Elsa assured and Anna nodded against her back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you out here all of a sudden.”

“What’s so important here?”

Elsa turned to look her in the eyes, the confident smirk on her pale visage did plenty to ease Anna’s hidden concern.

“It’s something you have to see for yourself.”

“That something doesn’t…bite….right?”

The beautiful chime of Elsa’s laughter sent a giddy pressure into Anna’s chest.

“No, you’ll be safe. I promise.”

The rush of emotions that rose within herself had Anna blushing profusely. The confidence and grace that her sister spoke those words with were almost too much to handle. She definitely liked this side of Elsa.

Soon, Nokk arrived at a triangular entrance of crystal clear sculpted ice and Anna slid off the spirit and watched it return to the sea after bowing to the women.

“Okay.” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “What do you want to show me?”

Elsa smirked before grasping one of her hands and leading her into the cavern. It was dark, surprisingly so. Anna squinted in an attempt to see anything in front of herself but found it incredibly frustrating. That is, until she could barely make out Elsa placing her palm against the icy wall.

Lights nearly blinded Anna as the cavern lit up in a glittering beauty that resembled the stars. Anna could feel her jaw go slack, watching all the pretty lights dazzle around her.

“C’mon.” Elsa tugged forward and Anna found herself following down a tighter section of the cavern.

The entirety of the cavern felt like a maze, paths splintering off in nearly every direction and yet Elsa stayed true in her steps. The lively lights embedded in the walls rushed ahead, and lit the path, as if they were guiding them to where they wanted to be.

“W-Woah hang on a second-.” Anna exclaimed as the floor beneath her boots gradually became stepper and stepper. The frictionless ice sliding her into an uncontrollable momentum.

Her eyes focused on Elsa, watching her knees bend and lean into the slope and Anna shakily copied the movements. The speed of their descent into the unknown cavern had her stomach dropping and a wild energy pulsing through her.

The smile that spread across freckled cheeks was involuntary.

When they neared a ramp that would surely send them flying into the depths of a larger space ahead, Anna didn’t close her eyes or scream in fear. No. Her hand tightened within Elsa’s grip and they flew into the air together, laughing as if it were a wonderful memory from their childhood.

The slightest flick of Elsa’s unoccupied wrist had beams of ice rising from the dark depths below to give them footing. Watching her sister’s magic come so naturally, so gracefully, had Anna feeling just how proud she was to be with Elsa. How far had they both come?

The transition from the air back towards the cool, slippery surface was met with little resistance and eventually the slope they traversed leveled out and their speed eased until they were no longer bound by the steepness of the ice. Watching ahead, Anna followed her sister into the next room.

Blue eyes widened at the sight of crystal clear pillars in the room. It was almost as if the very structure of this place was a throne room, brilliant and beautiful in every sense.

“We’re here.” Elsa spoke, her words echoing through the hall.

At the sound of her sister’s voice, the lights that followed them here split into individual colors. The colors swam through the ice below, passing under her feet and towards a darkened room ahead.

“Are those…?” Anna asked, unable to voice her full thoughts as she was mesmerized by the lights.

“The other spirits.” Elsa confirmed while nodding her head, “Yes.”

“Amazing.” She breathed.

It took a few steps before Anna found herself side by side with Elsa, facing a room that seemed to contain the deepest, unknown black she’d ever seen. A magical presence seemed to waft through the air, leaking from the space before her. This place was special, she could feel it in her bones.

“Anna.” Her head turned towards the voice of her sister, “I…”

She watched Elsa’s lips open and shut, her brow wrinkled in all the ways that would indicate frustration. She could tell the blonde was trying to think of the words she could use to explain what lies ahead, although Anna was already sure it was the type of mythical magic that was near impossible to truly explain through mere words.

“It’s okay Elsa,” Anna spoke while reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder, “Show me.”

An affirmative nod followed by interweaved hands had the two sisters stepping into the darkness. At first, Anna relied on Elsa and her senses to lead the way, but everything changed once she saw the spirits.

Crystals of colored light, last seen in Arendelle’s darkest moments, were free and floating in this vast space. She watched in fascination as the colors swirled through the air, a flurry of blue’s formed a single autumn leaf and Anna then realized what she was witnessing.

“Hi Gale.” She giggled, still enthralled by the sight of the spirit which had no form.

A swirl of pink crystals came rushing towards them, whirling around Elsa in the shape of the fire-breathing salamander that Anna had come to adore. The flashes of varying brightness had perfectly reminded Anna of the fiery spirit they met on their travels. On her left, with the beauty and grace she had always felt from the creature, Nokk was trotting alongside them. Lastly, On Elsa’s side, Anna watched as the crystals formed the gigantic outline of the giants she’d nearly been crushed by. A hesitant wave of her hand was all she knew how to give, but the frim nod from the giant filled Anna’s chest with comfort.

These were not the rage-filled, uncontrollable spirits they’d initially found in their journey into the Enchanted Forest. No, they were legendary creatures of myths but capable of emotions similar to her own kind. Blue eyes trailed to her sister, enjoying the way the gems of her dress glowed in the presence of the spirits. She truly was the fifth spirit.

They stopped in the center of the room. The four spirits delving below to shape large, magnificent crystals that Elsa could control. Pale arms lifted upwards. Anna’s jaw was surely hanging as she watched, yet Elsa took one last glance towards her.

“In that meadow, you said forget-me-nots resembled true and beautiful memories.” Anna found herself merely nodding, unsure of what Elsa was planning, “I want to show you everything Anna.”

“What do you m-” Anna started only to watch Elsa thrust the crystals towards the ceiling in blinding light.

The crystals collided overhead and the dark room that surrounded them was transformed into a dome of ice. In that moment, as the world around her brightened with what seemed to be fractured mirrors, Anna’s eyes grew large and her lips parted.

Taste, touch, sound, smells, even her sight seemed inadequate to truly describe the feeling within herself. Memories. She realized with astonishment. Her memories flooded the walls, playing as if she was watching them within her mind, yet the clarity was unfathomably real.

“Elsa…” Anna breathed, unable to form words.

“Do you want to build a snowman?”

Wide blue eyes flashed towards the sound of her own voice, watching a memory of their childhood. What was once a memory of a traditional Arendelle winter shifted across the ice to reveal a younger version of Elsa swirling her magical power into what appeared to be an earlier version of Olaf.

“Weeeeeee!”

Anna turned once more to see her younger self squealing as rode a sled through the thick of the Arendelle woods. Elsa, pushing her from behind. The image faded and revealed something similar, only the trees in the background morphed into the walls of the castle and the sled was nowhere to be found.

“My memories…” Anna choked, feeling a sudden ache catch in her throat.

All around her, this magical place revealed the memories of her childhood that had been altered. Ice skating in a pond turned into skating within the castle walls. Snowball fights in the summer garden. Everything was revealing itself to her.

The sting of tears pricked at the corner of her eyes yet she knew them to be tears of happiness. With each streak that slid down her cheeks, a piece of herself had been returned. These were more than simple memories being displayed before her, she could feel them unlocking themselves within.

“Catch me! Catch me!”

Anna turned once more towards the sound of her younger voice. She saw her younger self leaping from snowy hilltop to snowy hilltop, all being formed mere moments before she leapt. Elsa’s hand tightened around her own and she glanced towards her sister.

The tears that glittered on pale cheeks had Anna squeezing back with the deepest amount of unconditional love she could offer. Her eyes returned to the memory above.

“Wait Anna. Slow down!”

“Woohoo!”

She could see the younger version of Elsa struggling to keep up with her speed. The distance between each leap was getting farther and the structures her sister created were larger. A momentary slip of balance sent Elsa backwards and Anna watched herself leap into the air without a cushion below.

A single blast of magic to her head was all it took to send the young girl into the snowy bank below.

“A-anna!….Mama! Papa!”

The Queen of Arendelle watched as the young Elsa struggled to hold her unresponsive self in her arms, curling around her as the magical ice began to splinter and spread into something much more coarse.

“Elsa what have you done?”

“She’s ice cold…”

“I recommend we remove all magic. Even memories of magic…to be safe.”

Anna watched as the true events of the past became clear. The ache of confusion and the unknown that had always remained in her heart suddenly faded. Everything was clear now.

“Elsa-” Anna turned, expecting to comfort her older sister, however she found something entirely different.

Elsa was smiling and the tears and sadness Anna thought she understood was replaced by relief. Elsa reached out to take her arms in her hands and their foreheads connected in a loving touch.

“You don’t have to worry Anna. I don’t blame myself anymore. I just wanted you to know everything.”

“Elsa…” Anna pulled her sister closer, so that nearly every inch of their bodies were pressed together. “Thank you.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips into Elsa’s. The gentle connection was met with the brilliant lights of the spirits surrounding them. Anna peeked a single eye open to watch as the fractured memories of Ahtohallan spun into a single memory of their kiss.

When the two women parted they watched as the events they’d experienced were now being played above.

“Now we’re caught up.” Anna giggled.

“There’s one last thing I wanted to show you.”

"Hm?” Anna lifted her brow while Elsa took a step back.

“When we were younger. My magic wasn’t like it is now.” Elsa frowned as she recounted the memories of her own struggles to tame the energy inside herself, “I could make ice and snow…but there was no true beauty in it. Just clumps of magical power and being afraid of that power only made it worse.”

Anna watched as Elsa placed her palm out. Particles of light began forming within her hand and watched as a single flower, small but intricate in all the ways that would define a master artisan.

“But it’s thanks to you that I’m able to practice my magic once again without fear.”

Anna nodded her head in reply, knowing that their love had truly unchained them both from the shackles they carried in the past.

“So…” Elsa smiled while outstretching the flower in her fingers.

“Forget-me-not?”

-o-o-o-o-o-

#elsanna #submission #august 2021 contest #prompt: flowers

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lovebitesimagines · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Love- The End.

The final installment of Dangerous Love! Hope you enjoy x

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14]

Tag list: @happyhostforsymbiotes @brianaisasongbird @onlythechicagoway @biba3434 @mollybegger-blog @13frogges @mortalflower @crazymofos021 @lifetimeofadventue @itsmissdahliahayward @1opinionshared @arthurscarnival @thinkingsofamadwoman @shadow-of-wonder @anytimebitches @christinawxxx @accio-aesthetic @13frogges @queencoraline3 @dylanlover24 @theartoflovingcinema @blindedbytheblinderss

Warnings: Swearing.

I can’t believe we are at the end!

The start of forever.

YOUR POV

It was strange, you thought, how life seemed to continue on around you, when yours had come to an almost perfect standstill. You had sat motionless, on a chair within your room, your surroundings painted in an unfamiliar blur of movement. Your (Y/C/E) eyes were focused upon the dust particles dancing in front of you, to the tune of several busied conversations. You admired how they pirouetted in front of you, elegant and graceful. It seemed like the only piece of normality within your life, and you intended to clutch onto it. You slowly reached out your fingers just in front of you, watching as the dust particles fussed and fled at the disturbance.

Your eyes caught the image that reflected back at you in the mirror, barely able to recognise the stranger sat in your place. Your cheeks where lightly flushed in a soft shade of peach, the memory of the brush strokes tickling your delicate skin. Your lips were stained in an unfamiliar shade of pink, as if the petals of roses had tainted them. Your fingers brushed against the pale white lace, that delicately caressed your shoulders. You didn’t look like yourself. Would he even recognize you? You had dreamt of this moment, since the very first time that you had laid eyes upon Alfie. It was an idea that you only thought would ever take up space within your wildest dreams, never to take shape within reality.

“Away with the fairies again?” Pol chuckled softly, as she came up behind you. Her fingers softly brushed through your loose waves, the strands of hair gently falling down upon your back. A gentle smile played upon your lips, your eyes meeting hers in the reflection of the mirror.

“Is it time?” you anxiously asked. You swallowed softly as Polly replied with a nod, standing up nervously. You smoothed your hands against your dress, noticing how Polly’s eyes flickered towards your stomach.

“How far along?” she whispered, unable to stop her eyes twinkling with childlike joy.

“Two months” you replied, a slow smile spreading across your face, your fingers absent mindedly caressing the barely noticeable bump upon your abdomen. “I’m going to tell Alfie later”. Polly pulled you into a hug, all the words neither of you could verbally form being exhancged within a simple gesture.

“Come on. I don’t want you to be late now” Pol whispered softly, pulling away from the hug and leading you towards the staircase.

Arthur, John and Finn waited for you at the bottom of the stairs, their faces lighting up as they noticed you. They were dressed in almost identical black suits, their hair freshly trimmed. Your eyes scanned across your three brothers, a small frown creasing upon your forehead.

Where was Tommy?

“Can someone help me with this fucking pin-“Tommy shouted in frustration, his fingers fiddling with a small bunch of flowers at the lapel of his suit. He paused as he noticed you, his lips parting slightly. You silently made your way towards him, your fingers swiftly pinning the flowers onto his suit. You could feel his eyes focused upon you, watching as you helped straighten out his suit jacket.

“Come on. Let’s go get me married” you whispered softly, taking Tommy’s hand in your own.

Today, would be the start of forever.

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

ALFIES POV

Alfie had been in a lot of stressful and nerve-racking scenarios in his lifetime, yet each one paled in comparison to how he felt right this very moment. It felt as if a million pistols were expertly trained upon his head, waiting for the slightest movement. If he were to blink, he would notice it was the eyes of the wedding guests boring into him. Their thoughts almost cascading nosily into the air.

Who on Earth would marry Alfie Solomons?

A man like him didn’t belong here.

He had greeted every guest who had stepped through the wooden double doors of the Church, each face blurred beyond recognition. He had forgotten who you had both invited, and who had turned up only to nose at the spectacle of a Solomons and Shelby wedding. A false smile had been permanently plastered upon his face, his cheeks still aching even now. It felt as if time had come to a standstill, cruelly taunting him as each minute dragged past. Alfie shifted from one foot to another, an ache beginning to crawl up his leg.

A man like him didn’t belong here.

The dull humming of distant conversations, that had been continuously playing in the background, buzzed in Alfie’s ears like a persistent fly. He had almost grown accustomed to the sound, tuning it out almost as he turned to face the altar. His heart raced as if it were an illegal racehorse, frantically pacing around the track. An unfamiliar sheen of sweat graced his palms, slightly dampening his suit as he smoothed them against the dark fabric.

A man like him didn’t belong here.

It was almost instantaneous, the way a single note that bellowed from the Organ, demanded everyone into silence. It was time. Alfie could hear the creak of ancient wood, as people shifted in their seats to steal a glimpse at the bride, an excited hush still within the air. Anxiety caused a draught within his mouth, as he hurriedly brushed his tongue over his cracked lips, before turning to face you. His breath caught in his mouth, as his eyes met yours. No one else in that room mattered, apart from the two of you. In that moment, he silently swore to make you happy every day, for as long as he lived.

You made him feel as if he belonged.

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

YOUR POV

You sat in a booth at the Garrison, the thin cushion on the seat providing little respite to ease your tiredness. You had lost count of the length of time you had spent socializing with your wedding guests and family, the moments you had spent with your husband few and far between. You had been searching for the right time to tell him your good news, but was yet to identify it.

The noise from the bar rose and died, as the door opened and shut. You looked up to meet Alfie’s eyes, unable to stop the cheerful smile that had formed upon your lips.

“I have been lookin’ for ya’ all bloody evenin’” Alfie chuckled, a grunt escaping from his mouth as he sat down beside you. “Ya’ must be fuckin’ knackered angel. Ya’ barely touched your drink”.

You glanced down at the glass of wine you nursed in your hands, the material warm from where your fingers had been gripping the stem. Alfie noticed your silence, his fingers reaching out to rest upon your arm.

“Ya’ okay angel? Everythin’ alright with the supplies. Yeah?”

“Nothing is wrong with the supplies Alfie” you smiled softly, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek.

“No ones fuckin’ hurt ya’ have they?”

You shook your head in response, before turning to face Alfie.

His grey eyes looked frantically into yours, as if they were searching for a reason behind your unease. You could almost see the reasons he had wildly conjured up, disperse almost as quickly as they were created.

“I’m pregnant” you whispered. You didn’t have time to react, before Alfies arms enveloped you, your face buried into the warm crook of his neck.

“Ya’ mean, I just married the woman of my dreams, yeah. And I’m gonna be a dad. All in one day?” he breathed, his fingers laced in your hair. His words rose and fell into the air, a comfortable silence settling in the space that you two shared.

Today, was the start of forever.

And you could not wait.

#peaky #Peaky Blinders #by order of the peaky blinders #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #peaky blinders fanfic #emotional #original writing #original character #alfie x reader #Alfie Solomons #Tommy Shelby #Shelby #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons

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minghaoss-archive · 5 years

Text

of hues, of blues - m

summary ↯

wherein heartbreak teaches you to love again.

pairing ↯

xu minghao x fem reader

genre ↯

oneshot, angst, smut

and just a smidge of fluff hah!

word count ↯

6.811 words

alternative universe↯

friends with benefits to lovers, hanahaki disease.

warnings ↯

blood, vomiting, explicit sexual content.

author’s note ↯

idk this is absolute filth + a little attempt at poetry. im so sorry this is abysmal.

Surprises are not Xu Minghao’s cup of tea.

He realises this at a very young age.

When he’s riding a bike for the first time, schooling himself to grow accustomed to the unsteady glide of the vehicle. Looking out of the corner of his eye like this, a myriad of colours begin to collect in his peripheral vision. He can smell the freshly cut grass, see the enlarging manicured bushes lazing out in dusted gold, bathed in morning dew, the sight of his parents sat out on a picnic mat and he thinks he’s almost made it - just a little longer. He smiles and then grins and laughs and giggles, feeling as if he had grown wings. Then the world spins in a whirlpool of chartreuse canopies and he falls.

When he grows up, however, surprises are less dramatic but not quite different in proving to be a great displeasure to him.

When he’s 22, for starters, surprises are Seokmin’s ear damaging ‘Happy Birthday!’, a room full of people he can’t seem to recognise and an obligation to stick around talking absently about nothing when all he was planning to do was curl up in bed with a freshly minted copy of an unread book.

At 22, surprises are red coloured bars which tell him he has failed his painting course when he was sure he’d aced it.

At 22, surprises are finding catharsis for his sour mood in giving into Mingyu’s constant nagging requesting his rare presence at a stupid college party.

You arise from a blur of crimson lights and sweaty strangers. Like a newborn phoenix. A mere haze of dark clothes; a stark contrast to the vibrant tints pulsing around you, press a cool beer can to his chest and press a sloppy kiss to your mouth, as a consequence of a childish game of spin the bottle.

It’s right then that he knows that this is comprised of nothing but carnal desire. This isn’t what Minghao wants, he knows this, he wants something everything to mean something more but he just can’t help himself. The aching loneliness in him demands to be fulfilled, by something, just anything.

He shouldn’t follow you upstairs. In fact, he shouldn’t follow you anywhere. He shouldn’t press your back up against an unfamiliar bedroom door and push the hem of your outfit upwards.

Or hiss when you touch him.

Or rut his hips into yours. Or listen to the quivering moans billowing past your chapped lips, Or slide his fingers around your throat,

( a loll of your head, a sigh, his name tumbling from your lips.)

But he does anyway. He wants to.

The next morning, Minghao wakes up to a head splitting hangover. And a very, very empty bed. He kicks off the piss yellow sheets and glares at the cracked paint on Hansol’s ceiling.

When was the last time someone was in this room? Had he made you up? Definitely not.

The imprint of your body, a ghost, begs to differ. He reaches out and smoothes it over. Whatever. Minghao isn’t in the best mood.

Surprises are not his cup of tea.

....

The next meeting is at the college fair.

“You want a flower?” You lean your head to the side, hunched over the stall and he tells you a meek yes, “Those..ones.” gesturing to the pretty blues around which your hair curls.

Minghao may not know a lot but he knows it would be something ridiculous to miss, the gentle graze of your fingers against his ear when you place the pretty ring of blue atop his head.

“They’re called..?” He trails, running his finger along its slender stem. Maybe it’s the rings around your eyes or the way you bite the inside of your mouth, the subtle quality that of being peculiar makes him want to look at you longer than he should. It piques his interest.

“They’re hydrangeas.“ You supply. Minghao nods. Observing the way your nose crinkles and how you purse your lips when you think.

“I’ve never properly introduced myself.” smiling your endearing smile, you snap him right out of his thoughts. The kind of jolt one feels when they dream of falling. Mischievous eyes. Wondering eyes.

“We should..” You pause, swallowing down a chunk of words. Gaze downcast. It takes him awhile to understand that you are anxious, bashful even. Interlaced hands. Clammy. But sharp eyes. “We should do it again sometime.”

Your dealings with Minghao are so frequent that thinks he can’t quite imagine what his life would be like without it happening again.

By now he can tell your silhouette apart from everyone else’s. If he spreads his palms on your lower back and sucks on your neck, you hum and groan. If he wants, he can tell you exactly where every mark, indentation, valley and curve on your body is.

He’s been staring at an empty canvas for a while now, ideas jumbled, colours appearing together behind his lids and turning to a confusing mix of everything and nothing at all.

He’s listened to Chopin to a point where he’s convinced he can compose the andagios and allegros all by himself.

He's looked for inspiration in between violets and the cerulean sky and poetry, of course.

But it’s no use.

At the end of the day, Minghao only drowns in a sea of unfinished assignments; wallowing purposelessly in the tangerine glow of his makeshift studio, heavily caffeinated.

You coax him out the day Mingyu calls you. Dramatising his best friend’s state with a kiddish pout and flailing arms.

Minghao follows you around like a lost puppy. Resting his chin on your shoulder when you cook him a proper meal, fingers dancing along your apron. Distracted. It’s moments like these that truly confuse you; the care with which he kisses your cheek and the roughness with which he undresses you after.

What do the spaces between these differences, the oceans and hills, the softness of his sighs and the harshness of his grunts, even mean? Whatever. You haven’t fucked in a week or two.

The easel stems from the floor and curls around his primed canvas like a rose plant, thorns, pointed leaves, soft, blushing petals and he feels like he’s looking at his own reflection, devoid of ideas, faceless, empty, spotless.

Then suddenly, sighing, with a loll of his head, Minghao glances back at the bed, your bare body; streaks of rosy dusk splattered on your thighs, oranges and yellows smudged along your cheeks, the subtle rise and fall of your chest with every breath you take. A sliver of the rising sun. Summer air.

He touches his paintbrush after weeks and refuses to let go until all he can see is a waltz of reds and blues, a spin of everything he feels when he touches you. Your face. The gaps between your ribs.

He thinks, if anyone asks, he could talk about it for a good few days.

Minghao passes the semester with flying colours.

This is what happens, Jeonghan’s car grumbles, the air conditioning isn’t working and Minghao is too tall to sit with two other people at the back but he doesn’t mind because your knees are touching.

The wind blows your hair back in messy tufts. You’ve cut it shorter, upto your neck. He decides he likes it better that way.

There’s an Air Supply song playing in the background. Hansol smiles knowingly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his palms pressed firmly against the steering wheel. “That’s our song.” He says.

Then the car is still for a second. But suddenly you kick off your sneakers, bare feet on leather seats.

You giggle and giggle and giggle.

Tips of your fingers smudged of acrylic clouds. Patches of trees melting away into the amethyst sky. The sun sinking back into a blonde horizon. You’re singing loud. Laughing. You haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. The kind of laugh gives you a stomach ache. The kind of laugh that you think about for days.

Minghao thinks you’re beautiful like this.

He shouldn’t.

It’s not right.

He takes a photo.

...

We are only as remembered as long as we want to be found. Breadcrumbs. We are only remembered if we leave something behind.

The art of disappearing is something Xu Minghao is a master of, perhaps. Sometimes he turns off his phone and lies on park benches and tries to think of ways he could fit the world in his palms, mold it out of acrylic and entrap it in a picture. He is a sorcerer of sorts and magic only brews in solitude. In secret. When no one can hear him say his incantations. It’s a secret between him and the universe.

He leaves not a trace during these periods of artistry. No texts. No confusing social media applications. No boorish human beings. No hindrances.

Minghao doesn’t leave the studio for days. Not until all he sees is black and white. A monochromatic world. When bursts and explosions of platinum lightning have oozed out of the grey sky.

He rushes over to your apartment. Chasing thunderbolts. Desperate. A rainy day. A yellow bus. A knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. He arrives always. In search of colours.

You press your mouth to his before he can step foot into your room, words said between frantic kisses.

“God, where were you?” You say and he thinks you almost sound angry. His duffle bag drops with a soft thud.

He pulls your stringy dress off with a harsh tug. Hands skimming over the curve of your waist, your breasts, your skin. Goosebumps all over.

He tugs you closer by the heels of your feet. Hunching forward. Kissing you. Greedy fingers leaving you bare, shivering and craving in their wake.

A trail of sloppy kisses from the curve of your ribs to the slope of your stomach. Minghao’s fingers rest on your inner thighs, sucking in a multitude of colours. Fingers curled inside of you. Lewd squelch. Lewder whispers. Loud whines filling the room with each passing second.

He has you whining, sweaty underneath the rough pads of his fingers. Teeth scraping along the bend of your throat. Angry crescents. Minghao’s kisses on your tummy. Your fingers in his hair.

“Look at me.” He commands, holding his fingers up. Your eyes widened, glazed over. Lustful. Mischievous eyes. Wondering eyes.

If it’s you, if it’s like this, if this all you’ll ever be, wants to leave his trace, wants it to mean something, he wants to be remembered.

“Hey, stop that.” You say, covering your face with your hands. As if he hadn’t memorised it already.

Minghao’s pencil comes to a screeching halt. He’s on his stomach. Bare. Basking in the rubscent sunshine. Your sheets kiss his body, accentuating the slender shape of his waist.

Then the boy glances back and smiles. For a moment, you forget this isn’t love. This isn’t love. This isn’t supposed to be love.

Truth be told, Minghao isn’t good at sketching, he never was. He has never been quite fond of it. Minghao always imagines the world in vibrant colours. Never, in his mind, is beauty in black and white.

But in spite of his bitter exchanges with shaky borders and strange strokes before; now, he seems to excel at putting you on paper, be it in the form of ash pencil lines or splatter of colours, colours and colours, he can never seem to wrong your beauty. “Okay.”

He says and lays on his back. Wondering. Marvelling.

Your chin placed on your folded hands.

He pushes a rogue strand behind, one which always seems to keep falling over your eyes. Somehow every time you’re together, you end up like this. Craving. Touching. Never more. Never less. Can it be less? Can it be more?

No.

He shouldn’t say say or think or want something of that sort. Thinking is wanting. Wanting is saying. Saying is craving.

It isn’t right.

“Stop thinking so much.” You whisper, looking up at him with a look in your eyes that he doesn’t want to understand. Something which says more than what’s told.

Stop. He doesn’t quite stop. Minghao thinks and wants and craves. He mustn’t. Your face fits in his palms, you lean into the touch like a love starved kitten and he craves again. Wants again.

If you were a colour and not a million Minghao thinks you’d be blue.

Change. Change is strange. Sometimes you wonder how the world is frosted over, crystallised, whitened with snow and in a blink again, flowers bloom, spring comes and so comes hummingbirds. Change is strange. Sometimes you wonder how all you two share turns from mere lust to profound conversations of everything and nothing at all.

Minghao possesses a kind of intelligence that is unparalleled, he’s quick to understand thoughts and quicker to word it. You’ve been doing that quite often; talking and talking without meaning to stop. Change is strange.

“Do you believe in love?” Your voice is a low, broken thing, words barely there, airy.

"Yes.“ Minghao gazes at the sky, littered with more stars than there are in the city; the soft glow of silver lights his face up in an unusual way. A way about which you could write a thousand villanelles about.

Stars. Dim and twinkling. You wonder how many of them must have aligned for you to have found each other. Incomplete. Your half said words hang in the air. This comfort is peculiar.

Silence has never been an unpleasant thing before. You’re laid down with your arms and legs spread apart, gaze upcast.

Between the two of you, the wet patch of sand feels like a dried ocean, deserted. Lonely. The foamy sea lilts and sings and calls you to her; but you only lay silent, unmoved.

Minghao reaches out and interlaces your fingers. Hope is a funny thing. Desire is a funny thing. He doesn’t understand what it means to say a lot but speak no words at all. His hand tingles from where you rub your thumb. It’s the first time you’re together. But unbare.

This comfort is peculiar.

He’ll always remember; your shoulders erecting to mountains. Your eyes red and swollen, portions and bits of a conversation about a lost lover. The first time he saw you. Hansol’s piss yellow blankets. Seven minutes in a closet. Heated kisses. Your heart in shambles.

Minghao wonders what it means to love like that. Love that stays even when people don’t.

The sky is suddenly darker than before; mighty ravenous clouds seem to have gobbled down constellations after constellations. It’s going to rain again.

“Do you?“ He asks and you almost look, Minghao thinks, like you’re about to cry.

He wonders why it bothers him, why it makes him want to reach out and pull you to him. But he doesn’t, of course.

He shouldn’t.

It’s not right.

Something in your eyes is forlorn. Tight lipped. Sometimes he wishes he had a stethoscope to hear your thoughts, the ones you don’t unveil, despite your much fabled bravado.

You sit back, glance at him and smile briefly. Strange. Undercurrents. Tempted to trace your lips like it were brail. He wants to know what it means, the downward tilt of your mouth.

You’re insolent, an offensive girl, insulting every pretty scenery around you with your very strange beauty. Messy hair, moonlight kissing up your naked face, circles around your widening eyes and closing, parting mouth , like you’re trying to remember something or rather forget. He wishes his camera were with him.

"I can’t.” You say and the pain in your voice startles him.

"You can.“ Minghao corrects, sliding closer you. Toes touching. Bumping into each other. How one could think they can’t be reduced to the foolishness of a lover is beyond his understanding. Everyone can be a fool. In their own ways, of course. Everyone can fall in love. They just choose to. They just choose not to.

“Of course you can.” He says, sounding slightly injured by your ludicrous comment. Always flared up and cross. You rest your head on his shoulder. Stifling a laugh. It’s moments like these that truly confuse you, the gap between your bodies and the yearning to close it.

Believe in love;

You can.

You do.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Sometimes love lasts forever. Sometimes love gives you reason and makes you believe. Sometimes love is soft whispers, never wilting roses. Sometimes love is forever and always. Sometimes love is the tranquil sea. Sometimes love is comfort and trust. Like the first touch of spring.

Such was not true for Yuta and you.

Yuta fell in love with you one winter morning and fell out every other.

Sometimes you wonder if he had been a phantom. If you were touching air. If you had imagined him all along.

You remember tracing your finger along his back, bumps and drops of his spine, trying to find the man you loved once. You remember kissing him, touching him, undressing him, aching for him to look at you the way he did. To tell you he loved you back. To mean it when he did. You should’ve seen it coming.

When it happens it happens so unsurprisingly. When it happens it happens so surprisingly.

You get off class early. A trail of clothes at your feet. It’s a funny thing, watching someone take away everything you love. It’s a funny thing watching someone give away everything you love.

“Get out.” You say to him with a straight face.

You want to stop him.

“Fine.” Yuta shrugs, sighing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how many times he’s held her with those hands. Has he ever thought of you when he fucked her? Did he feel sorry for you every time you kissed him? Did he have a good laugh when you weren’t around?

He looks back one last time; as if to say you can pull me back and tell me you love me. You can drag me back and tell me it’s okay. You can forgive me and we will go back to bed. Like nothing ever happened.

Your mouth parts. Words pleading to escape. I love you. Was I not enough?

"I never want to see you again.“ You grit out instead. The door shuts with a soft thud.

You don’t stop him.

...

Minghao hisses when you drag your tongue down his abdomen. Your hair entangled between the gaps of his fingers.

You meet his eyes, watery and widened. Taking him in. “Fuck.” A sight you’ll never share. Afraid someone will steal it from you. A sight which only belongs to you. His brows knitted together, mouth parted in a silent moan.

He cums with a groan and you wipe the corner of your mouth clean, lean on your palms and say, “Happy birthday.”

...

You don’t understand Minghao.

Sometimes he calls you his darling and takes you to his bedroom. Undresses you with care and care and care.

And other times he walks past you like you don’t exist.

...

Nasty wet trails travel down your spine like liquid serpents. They bite your clothes, twist their heads around your lower back and cling onto your skin like they would swallow it whole. It’s summer and your mouth is very dry.

“Hold still.” He scolds. Tapping your bare thighs so you stop moving it so much.

Minghao’s head is in your lap, face shielded from the lurid orange sun. Shaded by a reddened poetry book which says Robert Frost. Your face invisible. Only a hint of your eyebrows. He pulls it back.

“Hey!” You exclaim, trying to seize it but he tucks it away, under his bum. A complacent grin breaking out on his face. All teeth and no shame.

“I hate you so much.“ You say, sighing and brush away a few strands from his face. He’s pretty like this. Skin aglow, brown eyes suddenly an astonishing liquid gold. Honey.

You’ve been falling.

Minghao sits up suddenly, solemn look on his face. Amused no longer. He presses his mouth to yours. Beating heart and clashing teeth. Fingers holding your jaw in place. “That’s not true.” He says, swiping his thumb over your swollen lips.

You don’t understand Minghao.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

He’s drunk.

Minghao rests his head against your chest and draws circles into your stomach. Falling. You might be falling.

It scares you.

"I’ve got to go.“ You say suddenly. Body cold as the warmth of his own slips away. He’s sitting up on his bed.

He is the prettiest tonight.

Face still rubicund. Pitch black strands gone rogue,falling over his eyes. He swallows thickly. Adam’s apple bobbing.

He’s had too much to drink.

“Stay.” He says, pulling you back, looking up at you with big doe eyes. He tugs you closer. Ear pressed to your tummy. Arms looped around you.

If he doesn’t hold on tight, the whole world starts to spin. He wants to hold on tight. He always has.

“I want you to.” He whispers with such sincerity, you think you might turn to liquid.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Minghao doesn’t remember.

He stares at you. Your body pressed to his. The bend of your spine and your eyes clamped shut. Your hair always unkempt. His fingers yearn for a paintbrush.

His memory is a haze. A swirl of blurriness. A gaping cavern. How did he even get here? In your arms, your lips parted, face buried in his chest. The soft beating of your heart.

You’re awake. He knows.

He can tell. You only tap your feet when you’re awake.

His body slides away from yours.

“We’re late.” He says, his voice all garbled, like the sound was hindered by a rock lodged deep inside his throat. “What happened last night?“

Words seem to be a foreign thing to you for a minute. You look to him and pretend. How do you tell him?

You think of his ear pressed to your stomach and his beautiful eyes, a magnificent ebony looking up at you. You think of thinking. How you’ve been doing too much of it. Minghao elbows you, demanding an answer.

“Nothing.” You say and are surprised by how true it sounds.

You don’t want to be awake

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Melancholy has a peculiar way of coming. Sauntering away in her bluest gown. She meets you often. When you’re drowning in midnight ruminations. When you listen to the most sublime tunes humans have ever crafted. Today she comes suddenly, when you’re watching a movie you’re not watching. Feet propped up on Junhui’s lap. She comes in her bluest gown.

See you’ve been talking for an hour and your jaw hurts.

Junhui and you sit in a discomfiting quietude. He’s been your best friend through thick and thin. Through untamed pigtails and pubertal bacne. Through bad relationships and good. He’s known you long enough to know when you’re lying and when you’re not.

“You know.” He gulps. Looking at his hands. “The way the way you talk about Minghao…like you’re ready to take a bullet for him…it’s..”

“Is that a bad thing?” Your head snaps in his direction, you look annoyed. He winces. “No.” Nervously, he keeps tapping his foot. “Not if you love him.”

“Do you?” He nudges you. Then you tilt your head back and think of nothing and everything.

Your head weighty, inundated with thoughts of him. You keep thinking of Minghao’s smile. You think of his giggles.Stay . His smile. I want you to .

It isn’t until Junhui touches your face, a flick of his index, a tender thing; do you realise you’ve been crying. “I’m scared.” you say, leaning into his touch.

The older male smiles knowingly, passing the bucket of popcorn to you. Junhui is patient. Wordlessly taking your hand in his. He looks so unsurprised it scares you.

"I know.” He says, with no rancour or judgment. As if he has been looking at the insides of your head for long now.

When you were little you doubted the sweet voiced boy had the superhuman power of reading your mind. Knowing when your mum scolded you. Knowing when you wanted to cry and when you wanted to laugh. When you wanted an extra gummy bear. What if he knows now? What if he hears you think he doesn’t love me back? What if he hears you think I am in love with him, I have never been in love like this, what if?

"Let go.“ Junhui suggests, meeting your eyes with a kind of warning which perplexes you. A grand affirmation of all your fears. “It’s not good for you.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It’s dark outside and you’re lying on his arm, listening to his pulse. Bodies flush against each other.

When you look up; Minghao is staring intently at the ceiling fan, mouth parted, eyes widened, he’s looking at one thing and seeing a million. You wonder what he thinks so arduously about. Then you lean over and press your lips to his. He hums and smiles and laughs against your mouth, “I love you.“

It’s a tragic thing, the quickness of these words falling off of your lips. Minghao stops smiling. You think he stops thinking too. He sees one thing now. “It’s late. We should sleep.” He says suddenly, clearing his throat. As if words had clogged up inside.

Inside your chest, something turns to smithereens.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It isn’t his fault. It’s not your fault.

“Don’t go.” You whisper to Minghao, a reiteration, a lost memory you’re trying to relive. He sighs and glances briefly at you from the corner of his eye.

"We aren’t supposed to do this.“ It’s more of a thought than it is a suggestion, an idea he renders just to catch your reaction.

For a second, it’s so quiet that he can hear the soft plops of raindrops against your windows. Home. Suddenly he misses Anshan. Feeling rather uprooted when you unlace your fingers from his.

Minghao thinks summers are beautiful, he thinks sunflowers are yellow and that you shouldn’t date.

The words feel deafening to hear. But you’ve always been good at hiding your feelings. Phenomenal, actually. So you ignore your aching heart with no difficulty. “You’re right.” You say, “We shouldn’t.”

Sometimes we find things we aren’t searching for, sometimes we’re told things we don’t want to hear. Minghao thinks it’s the price we pay for not speaking our minds.

“Oh.” He says, sounding a little disappointed.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It’s funny how it’s so aggravatingly sunny outside.

In your head, it only rains when you are in pain. A reflection of your sorrows. The whistling wind. The hissing thunder. The ugly lightning. Inner storms.

But today, it rains not a drop. Despite you feeling like you’re being torn apart.

Has anything in your head ever been real? Have you conjured up the very idea of Minghao? Is he only an outline of a person you’ve filled in with imagination? A skeleton fleshed out of your pet desires?

Maybe.

Today his thrusts are sloppy, he groans into your skin and you hold onto him like you’re about to let go any second, like you’re losing him.

“I gotta go.”

He studies your face intently, finding that you have something to say in response. Maybe it’ll be a scold. Maybe it won’t be a scold. Whatever. He doesn’t expect you to look at him the way you do. With a kind of spark in your eyes which begins to die out.

“We should end this.” You sigh and Minghao waits for you to say more. For the mischievous glint. For you to say you’re just kidding. Like you always do. For you to say something, anything at all.

“Is it..is it about last night?” He queries, pausing.

“Because..I..” you look at him with a sudden sharpness, something that says stop me, please stop me. But he says nothing. He forgets that words are a thing at all. You look away.

What is unsaid tastes like blood on his tongue. Like blades. Hurtful. He’s trying to touch your shoulder, to see if you’re real.

You sink into the mattress.Looking rather defeated.

“No.” You lie. You sound like a different person. Someone who is brave. Someone who isn’t you.

He kneels between your legs, tugging onto your shorts, sighing. Hopeful eyes searching your face over and over again. “Don’t come back.” You say softly. Not meeting his eyes still. Afraid you’ll give into the temptation of retracting the previous demand. You can’t look at him.

“You always want me to come back.” He whispers, voice heavy. As if he were clinging onto it for dear life. A dying tree to its roots. A sinking ship to its broken anchor.

This isn’t love, this isn’t supposed to be love. You remind yourself again.

Only this time it sounds like an excuse, a poor attempt at concealing the awful pain inside your chest.

“Not this time. This time you can go.”

Your sheets still smell like him. Your shirts still smell like him. Minghao has managed to entangle himself in every aspect of your life.

You wonder how long it’ll take for you to get rid of him. How many washes, detergents and days, months, years.

“Okay.” He says, nodding.

Let go. Junhui’s hand in yours. I love you. Minghao’s involuntary giggle when you say something witty. His bare body on your mattress. It’s not good for you.

Minghao turns into a dot of charcoal against the firmament. The groaning motorbike of his now soundless.

You don’t stop him.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Something like this was bound to happen. It was waiting to happen from the start. It was waiting to happen from the end.

You arrive late at Wonwoo’s party and Minghao’s shoving his tongue down some other girl’s throat. The bottle’s been spun in unfortunate circles, a turn of fate.

Your friends say nothing. Speaking of this and that, anything but how Minghao’s probably fucking someone else’s brains out upstairs. You feel stupid.

“You okay?” Mingyu asks suddenly, you're surprised.

He’s Minghao’s best friend after all. Does he pity you this much? To traipse through restricted territories, comforting you in the most comforting way there is? You decide friendship and pity are parted only by the thinnest line.

Mingyu is your friend too.

“Yeah.” You reply, smiling briefly.

A soothing hand on the small of your back. A reminder of how you’re real and this is real, definitely not a nightmare.

Across the room, with the booming music ricocheting off pasty walls, a background of sweaty strangers and twists of neon, Junhui is looking at you.

No, that’s not right.

He’s looking through you.

You want to throw up.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

You think about sunlight caught in his eyes. Sunflowers in his hair. The way he shivers you when kiss his throat. You think of him once and twice and three times. You can’t stop. You mustn’t.

“What are you doing?” Junhui’s voice echoes through the bathroom. “Are you okay?“ He watches his dearest friend lean over the toilet seat.

You don’t know what to say. You’re looking at a ring of hydrangeas, afloat in a pool of your own blood and bile. And suddenly you know this means something, this always has.

...

Minghao catches your glaring eye and he’s surrounded by a thicket of roses,they are a kind of pink that is more orange than pink. He is painting. Birds warble and the wind hits his fringe to provide an unobstructed view of his face.

The next morning you spend an hour cleaning blood out of your sink. The same soft petals circling him, accompanied by vicious thorns. And you think it’s worth it, to die like this, to die for love.

...

He thinks of your smile often. Tries to commit the curve to his memory like he’ll forget it otherwise. Perhaps that is what he fears. Forgetting you. Your face. Your smile. Your voice. He fears to never be able to paint you again. Perhaps if he had forgotten, you’d cease to exist.

“I can’t do this.” He says to the nameless girl, her lipstick smudged.

It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right.

He yearns to run his fingers through your unkempt hair; he can’t stop thinking about you, your roaring laugh and your poetry, your heart, your fingers. Your imperfections. The bend of your spine and the slope of your neck.

Minghao searches for you in other people and finds only a gaping hole.

...

Minghao keeps having a recurring dream, one dream amongst thousands. He’s had it since he was a child.

He’s swimming at first, halving sapphire water with every stroke; whilst the sun shines above him. A spotlight.

He’s alone one moment and then he isn’t. Then he is in a meadow, a green meadow, a brilliant green that is too green to be just grass and not shards of emerald.

He’s lying down, head rested on his folded arms, the sky is cobalt, not a cloud in sight.

Peculiarly enough, in his dream, he knows he is in love and it is with someone who lies with him.

The first time he has this dream, he is 13. It teaches him to touch a paintbrush. To flirt with paint and fall in love with colours. Passion no longer latent. At 13, his lover is faceless.

Now, he lies in the same meadow, he looks to his beloved, anticipating the same blank outline he always has seen

and finds your smiling face instead.

...

Junhui swears at Henry James often. Unable to decipher whatever the hell the author drones on about. One time he flung his copy of The Wings Of The Dove and watched it tear into two miserable halves of stupidly sophisticated words.

But you understand him. You pick up the torn pages and glue them together. You understand Henry James.

The Turn Of The Screw. Horror in places that aren’t horrific.

A kiss of autumn. The commencement of reds, darker browns and crunchy leaves. Not horrific. Minghao is looking at you, vines of steam from his coffee, brick red beret. He’s looking right at you. Not everything around you. Not autumnal beauty to catch inspiration from and spill it on his canvas.

...

Minghao used to love someone once.

A rattling thing inside his chest. He was young, too trusting and a blatant stranger to the jolting ache of unrequited love which comes when she quickly turns him down.

He promises to never love like this again.

Fast and unsteady. Without reason. Without logic. Unconditionally.

He thinks of your fingers, smaller against his. He thinks of dusk laying atop your body. He thinks of the rings around your eyes. The curls of your eyelashes. He thinks of blue.

(Minghao has never been good at making promises.)

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It’s past midnight and you’re waiting for melancholy to visit like she always does. But she never comes. Never in her bluest dress. Never anymore.

You haven’t been coughing up flowers for a few weeks now.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Nervous is a laughable understatement.

There’s an elephant in the room and its squeezing Minghao’s throat with its trunk, crushing the poor thing to dust.

The café is anything but silent. Soft music. Buzzing with teenagers. Loquacious couples. In between all the unspeakably loud bustling, Minghao is surprised to find that he can only hear Junhui’s tapping foot. The tings of Joshua’s phone. Hansol’s low humming. Minghao clears his throat. “I think .. I’m in love with her.” He says, sitting straight suddenly. He blurts it out like it’s a grand revelation.

Junhui silently sips his drink. He’s only decided to see the younger male because he was offered brownies.. Minghao investigates silently, eyes darting all over his friends’ face. Hansol nods. Joshua says nothing but offers a huge grin. Unsurprised. He was expecting a parted mouth at least, if not dropping jaws.

It’s only Junhui who breaks the obnoxious silence. “You’re the last to find out.” He says finally, narrowing his eyes. Minghao frowns.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

He’s wearing the same shirt that he wore the first time you saw him. Baby blue. Sheer. Smiling. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Then your stomach twists. Finally, in your head echoes a delirious laugh. How foolish it was to get one’s hopes up.

You wonder what it will be this time, perhaps lavender, perhaps a water lily, perhaps wisteria.

But nothing comes.

You only find your own reflection, staring back at you, gaping eyes emerging from dirty ash toilet water. Then you try the sink.

Nothing comes.

"When were you going to tell me you were dying?“ You jump,turning and finding him leaning on the door frame.

Arms crossed. Minghao has the audacity to look offended.

“When were you going to tell me you’re in love with me?” You say instantaneously, frowning. If nothing comes now. If nothing comes for weeks. No thorns. No flowers. It means what you think it means. You’re glancing at him from the bathroom mirror. He shuts the door. Just the two of you.

Craving and Wanting. Thinking.

It isn’t wrong.

Wanting you isn’t wrong.

A ring on his little finger. He rubs his nape. Sheepish smile on his face. “I was hoping now.. isn’t a terrible time.”

You’re sitting on the ceramic ringlet of the sink, feet dangling. Like a child, you jut your lip out “It is.“

See you don’t mind the way he comes to you. Standing in between your legs. Foreheads pressed together. Fingers entwined. The oceans and hills. The gaps between your bodies. The tear in your heart. Forever closed.

“You're trying to seduce me.” You frown, and he’s laughing and giggling, fingers tilting your chin upwards.

“Am I not succeeding?"

You shake your head a no. Toying with the hairs dropping over his eyes. "Failing miserably.” He recognises your jests in an instant. Mischievous eyes. Wondering eyes.

Then he kisses you, soft and lingering. Muffled words pressed against your lips.

“I love you.” He says, breathless. Eyes widened. Lips swollen. He thinks you’re driving him a little insane now. Searching your face for an answer. “If I didn’t love you back…” You say, nails painted a kind of wine red that never should be unsweetened, “I wouldn’t be dying.” Thank you for saving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for saving my life.

You tug Minghao closer by the ends of his outgrown hair and kiss him a little dizzy. He thinks you’ve been driving him insane ever since you’ve met him.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

A cream envelope in hand, velvet under his fingers, a present amongst many presents. You’re wearing his shirt. The fabric reaching right below the curve of your bum. Speed Hunter scribbled on in chalky white. “I’ve tolerated you for an entire year.” You say and press your mouth to his. A tingly sensation in his tummy. It almost feels as if he’s swallowed a jar of butterflies.

Surprises are not Xu Minghao’s cup of tea. Seokmin’s screams still scare him, he falls off bikes and still fails courses sometimes.

But still, he, too, unwittingly, finds himself falling in love with a villanelle called Stars.

Your name inscribed underneath.

3K notes · View notes

tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years

Text

Trinkets, 35: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A mostly full bottle of whisky on which the label has been crossed out with ink and under it is scrawled “Potion of Emotional Healing”.

A silver pocket watch as thick and round as a pomegranate that makes a sound like a bag of coins when moved. The delicate crystal face is shattered, and tiny gears and wheels skitter and jumble randomly within the interior.

A masterfully executed painting depicting the aftermath of a horrific battle; pain and fear radiates from every living face. In the lower left corner is a familiar signature.

A strange, tiny inkwell, barely large enough to contain more than a few drops of ink, with a pointed, small-diameter needle protruding from its bottom. The needle, if embedded in one's flesh, causes the pot to well with waiting red.

A steel collar set with a coin sized medallion of rare, red flecked obsidian at the front of it. The stone is inscribe with a Necromantic rebuke.

A set of bongos made of elephant hide stretched over alder.

A scrap of paper that says, “Thank you for dealing with this ‘person.’ For a reward, please visit the Dancing Diva Festhall.” Under those words is a smudged, bright red lip imprint.

A marvelous lute of light, tastefully inlaid wood with a slender, engraved neck. The instrument's wood seems to sing on its own, its strings almost alive with wonderful tonality.

A pair of earrings, with red garnet cabochons, rounded on one side, flat on the other, shining prettily.

A hawthorn walking stick. The end stained with mud, and worn from use from walking through cities, deserts, moors, up mountains, and from being used to pry open many windows, and doors.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A mostly full bottle of whisky on which the label has been crossed out with ink and under it is scrawled “Potion of Emotional Healing”.

A masterfully executed painting depicting the aftermath of a horrific battle; pain and fear radiates from every living face. In the lower left corner is a familiar signature.

A strange, tiny inkpot, barely large enough to contain more than a few drops of ink, with a pointed, small-diameter needle protruding from its bottom. The needle, if embedded in one's flesh, causes the pot to well with waiting red.

A steel collar set with a coin sized medallion of rare, red flecked obsidian at the front of it. The stone is inscribe with a Necromantic rebuke.

A set of bongos made of elephant hide stretched over alder.

A scrap of paper that says, “Thank you for dealing with this ‘person.’ For a reward, please visit the Dancing Diva Festhall.” Under those words is a smudged, bright red lip imprint.

A marvellous lute of light, tastefully inlaid wood with a slender, engraved neck. The instrument's wood seems to sing on its own, its strings almost alive with wonderful tonality.

A pair of earrings, with red garnet cabochons, rounded on one side, flat on the other, shining prettily.

A hawthorn walking stick. The end stained with mud, and worn from use from walking through cities, deserts, moors, up mountains, and from being used to pry open many windows, and doors.

A beautifully polished obsidian carving shaped into a jaguar skull. Those that touch it feel a deep connection to the animal world and the earth itself.

A palm-sized gem wrapped in rune-embroidered cloth that glows with an inner radiance.

A small sliver of crystal that is completely translucent, although it flickers with a weak glow when held by a living creature.

Reveler's mug: A large horn mug that cannot be turned upside down while containing liquid. If one attempts to do so, the mug changes shape in their hands so that it does not spill.

A razor sharp hunting knife with a gut hook.

Beauticians clippers: Once per day the bearer can use the clippers to cause finger or toenails grow as if a month had gone by allowing damaged nails to be trimmed and cleaned much easier.

A pair of padded greaves, back-stitched in a diamond pattern that provides maximum flexibility without diminishing the effectiveness of the leg protection. A pair of buckled straps on the back side fasten the padded greaves while allowing some adjustment of the fit.

A broken lump of dark gray rock that shimmers like a rainbow along its jagged surfaces. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as titanium quartz.

A palm-sized stone, flat and ellipsoidal, made from roughly hewn marble. In the centre is a slight indentation, polished mirror smooth from countless thumbs rubbing circles over the years. Some creatures who uses the worry stone claim that catching their own reflection in this divot brings a sense of serenity and peace of mind.

A fist sized glass orb filled with scintillating colours and pinpoints of light swirling in a nebula.

A well-made backpack that appears to be well used, and quite ordinary. It is constructed of finely tanned leather, and the straps have brass hardware and buckles. It has two side pouches, each of which appears large enough to hold about a quart of material.

A vibrantly coloured mask, made from the feathers of a variety of rare and beautiful songbirds.

A scroll case containing a scroll scribed with an unfinished spell.

A broken sword hilt with strange runes on the remains of the blade.

A small piece of fabric that holds the scent of a lost love.

A rock with a patch of curious purple moss that occasionally puffs out hallucinogenic spores.

A rough bone carving of a golden dragon and a kobold, etched into the bottom is a name in Draconic: ''Vimrul''.

A curved warhorn bearing engravings of armed men on horseback, charging into battle.

An elaborately braided bicorne made of rich blue felt, embroidered with golden thread. It has a showy badge called a cockade, proclaiming nationality, faith, family crest, and the like.

A small, elaborately carved silver tube is designed to hold a single piece of chalk.

A translucent and oddly shaped prism that seems to fade in and out of existence when seen in daylight.

A black silk robe embroidered with adamantine thread in an elegant waterfall pattern.

A fancy choker made of barbs and black webbing, with nine gray spheres depending from it. Knowledgeable PC's are aware that the decoration is considered high fashion for drow priestesses.

A small wooden case containing a gaming set known as Mazes & Manticores. Inside is a wide variety of items. Maps of made-up continents and cities, sets of polyhedral dice in a variety of colours, quill pens, "Character Sheets", and a set of large books talking about "XP" and "Levels".

A glassy charm in the shape of a moon, with many claw and tooth marks.

An intricately made harp, inlaid with several glassy gray gemstones of various types.

An ivory disk engraved with an image of a grinning skull and inlaid with black enamel to form a shield-shaped background.

A scarlet sash woven of fine red thread and delicate gold wire.

An elaborate, high-necked bustier laced and lined with black silk and adorned with sapphires and beljurils.

A mask, made of a beaten copper-mithril alloy and set with a constellation of seven variegated semi-previous stones, is made to cover the right half on an individual's face. A set of three chains circle round the back of the head and fasten the mask by resting over the cheekbone, the bridge of the nose, and the chin. Any creature wearing the mask feels a sleight tingling sensation in the skin it touches, and has the sensation that he sees sharper, more precise details with the eye looking through the eye hole.

A finger-sized shard of blue crystal that's constantly shedding flakes and chips of crystal without ever getting smaller.

A curved staff made of coiled brass and glass wire.

A cluster of translucent green roughly hexagonal crystals covering the surface of a dark green speckled stone. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as emerald.

A joyfully coloured terracotta rattle with a skull motif subtly woven into the pattern of hues.

A rattle shaped like the skull of a horned creature. Dried blood adds a macabre touch to the horns.

A small and lightweight wooden whistle. Lazily carved, the instrument features a single finger hole to alter its pitch. A childlike carving of a bird has been hewn heavy-handedly into the whistle’s foot. When putting the reed to your lips and forcing a small puff of air through it, a tuneless squawk sets everyone on edge.

A silken veil that glistens in strange colours, like oil on water.

A transparent glass polyhedron about the size of a human fist. Light passing through it tends to blend into white, and to magnify, so that when in the open it glows with pure white bubbles of light.

A three foot tall chalice carved in the shape of an open mawed dragon resting on its curled tail. It is made from petrified dragon bone of mottled purple and blood red hues. It is worked with sharp, horny and scaly looking protrusions that one can quite easily cut themselves on.

A half-mask like one worn to a masquerade party, but the bottom edge has numerous sharp-looking catlike teeth.

A wax paper packet filled with dried rose petals.

A glass hookah with a cap made of gold, its hose of tightly woven silk, and its mouth piece is cunningly carved from a piece of amber that contains an entire tiny scorpion. Even when the hookah is not lit, the interior of its glass body is hazy, as if with smoke.

A flask made of a metal that resembles a light gold with a curious dark iridescence tinting its lustre. The container is cast with a face on four sides, each bearing a different expression. Their eyes glow with a bloody purple light.

A swirling purple gem that if pressed against the forehead and held there for a few seconds, will then float in front of the bearer’s forehead until he is slain or removes it. While the gems floats around the head, the bearer feels a sense of clarity and foresight.

A forgery kit that contains a variety of papers, parchments, pens and inks, seals, sealing wax, gold and silver leaf, and other supplies necessary to create convincing forgeries of physical documents.

A forest of tiny bright red crystals emerging from an uneven brown stone that resembles soil. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as crocoite.

A crude wicker doll whose bead eyes glitter in any available light.

A polished marble model of a human heart, nearly the size of a human heart. Although it looks like a single solid piece, it weighs next to nothing.

A convoluted system of brass tubes and dials containing several lenses and polished mirrors. Peering into one end reveals that the entire system does nothing to change what you see through the tube.

A small, inverted L-shaped machine with a hand crank on one end. The crank seems to power a rather intricate system on the other end consisting of several delicate metal plates and a tiny needle.

A shimmering, clean yellow robe made of the lightest silk. Runes skitter across it and vanish. It smells of musk and roses.

A simple razor blade, used for shaving, resting on a pile of ash. A single drop of fresh blood marrs the perfect sheen of the blade.

A damaged ebony case containing a masterful set of pearl and onyx engraving tools in extreme disrepair.

An intricately articulated wooden figure of a multi-headed dog covered in a mouldy gray fur.

An extraordinarily fine miniature saddle, as though for a small dog, worked in supple leather and decorated with gold and silver thread.

A once-beautiful golden clasp, as for a ladies’ travelling cloak. The shape has been bent and distorted and now resembles a sneering face.

A pale gray, formless sculpture. While nothing about the piece gives the impression of movement, you get the vague impression that it has shifted every time you look away.

A small blue glass butterfly attached to a barrette. When the clip is opened, the butterfly stirs and gently flaps its wings.

A plain iron goblet with a cracked rim. It is filled to the brim with a frothy, clear amber substance that resembles a freshly poured lager frozen in place.

A set of fancifully etched translucent yellow wineglasses that flash brilliant fluorescent green when they catch the sun.

A truly ancient clay jug, stoppered with cork and wax. The lower half is caked with dried mud and the upper half is covered in salt and barnacles.

A glass globe that has a winged being dancing on the head of a pin within it.

A padded metal case filled with a hundred tiny figurines depicting warriors of various races, all obviously hand assembled and painted with great care. A half-painted kobold figure on top is especially well-sculpted.

A tortoise shell table snuff-box set with six crow feet.

A funeral urn made of fine porcelain some two feet high.

A slim, blown-glass bottle filled with a shimmering golden liquid. The bottle is sealed with a cork and wax, and the label is hand-written in a language you do not recognize. The fraction 1/500 is neatly penned in the bottom right corner.

A teak camphor chest with grinning, demented angelic handles.

A large stone needle carved with figures running from a pyramid with a single eye floating above it; the eye is made from obsidian and set with a ruby centre.

A funeral urn sealed with a stopper depicting a golden-haired jackal.

An ebony statuette of a sphinx with three faces.

A matte black sphere studded with a thousand tiny gemstones, many of them in the shape of recognizable constellations in reverse. The entire thing twinkles as though it contains a small flame.

A sun token made of pure gold with dried leather headdress fittings still hanging from it.

An ankh made of carved human bone.

A bronze incense burner with an ibex figure with a human female body.

A single gold earring fashioned to represent a man being eaten by a crocodile.

A travel pouch made of an elephant’s ear.

A shoulder bag of great age with ornate decorations made from human finger bones.

A collection of human lower jaws made into bracelets.

A deeply flawed, translucent blood red cube buried deep within a black stone covered in white calcification that vaguely resemble snowflakes. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as garnet.

A set of juggling balls made from dried lamb heads.

A pair of fancy earrings in the shape of swarming hornets.

A tin case containing a dozen small purple sugar balls that taste like the hottest and sweetest bit of delight you’ve ever had.

A hand fan made of stretched aquatic elf skin decorated in horn and painted with animal scenes of hunger.

A bone and silver corkscrew on a leather thong hung with rabbit’s feet.

Automatic Whetstone: A small unremarkable whetstone that never wears out and when touched to a dull edge and let go, starts sharpening it automatically. The whetstone stops and falls to the ground when the edge has been sharpened to perfection.

A piece of cloth written with a short prophecy.

A ludicrously flamboyant, oversized hat with a dull metal disk affixed to the front. The hat reads the wearer's emotional state and displays images on the disk to match; an exclamation mark when surprised, a smiling face when happy, a frowning face when angry, and so forth. When the wearer is really angry or frustrated, in addition to displaying an appropriate face on the disk, the hat causes jets of steam to issue from the wearer's ears, accompanied by a whistling noise.

A battered old longcoat that reeks of alcohol and ash.

A clear glass hemisphere containing an arrangement of perfectly preserved rose petals in the shape of a heart.

A leather wallet containing a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a monk of a local monastery who has taken a vow of silence. The papers also include a list of questions people typically ask along with the answers for them so the bearer does not have to speak while still remaining polite. The section containing the monk's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair colour) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

81 notes · View notes

mythgirlimagines · 3 years

Photo

Time for a brand new talentswap for this fine Tuesday! Give a warm wink and a smile to Myth, the Former Ultimate Animator!

——————————————————-

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

As a youngster, Myth‘s imagination and energy was all over the place. A combination of regular consumption of books, movies, and TV, and living in a rather creative household herself, made this Myth want to bring her odd creations into the human world. Ever since she entered her first ever short animation into a prestigious film festival for preteens, she has been on a roll ever since, with romantic and fantasy anime being her main bread and butter. Her most well-known work yet is “Up in Smoke”, a Romeo and Juliet-esque animated film chronicling the romantic escapades of a two female elemental spirits, a water and fire spirit, and the rebellion against their strict family. It earned raving reviews from critics for its adorable artstyle, its loveable characters, and its heartwarming portrayal of LGBT dynamics. In fact, most of her works have at least one LGBT character, or at least have some form of LGBT subtext. She may not have a lot of human friends apart from Wyre, but she has the support of both her friends and her massive fanbase. Even as a adult, she still has it going in the animation department.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Animal Breeder

Due to her wild and rowdy appearance and personality, Wyre never really had many human friends, but they compensate for this with a whole arkload of animal friends, with lizards, snakes and other reptiles being her main speciality. Myth and Wyre met as children, and quickly bonded with each other over their eccentric behaviour and lack of human friends. In fact, Wyre was the one who gave Myth the eared hat and tail that Myth regularly wears. Wyre regularly brings in live animals as a drawing reference, so Myth would learn how to properly animate animal movement.

Outfit: Same outfit as the original, but with a cat design on the skirt, a brown fox ear headband, and a matching brown prop tail.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Princess

As the princess of a small European country called Zunduros, Scar is the current heiress to the Zundorian throne. Myth was surprised to learn that her animated shows have quite the following in Scar’s kingdom. Despite constantly carrying herself as the “Heiress of the Untouched Shadow”, the facade quickly breaks away to reveal a heavily-concerned and somewhat maternal girl, once she realises that this entertainment giant doesn’t exactly have the healthiest living habits. Nowadays, Scar is always on standby, making sure that Myth gets her daily food and rest.

Outfit: A black Gothic Lolita-style dress, with white lace and red bows on the front, dark red stockings, red heels, red gloves, a red rose holding up her side bun.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Musician

As the lead singer of the soft rock band, “QUIZ BOWL”, Fusion’s songs mainly center around family and parental love. Fusion’s personality matches the subject matter of his songs, being paternal and kind-hearted, despite what his height and wild fashion would suggest. Imagine Myth’s shock when this 6’3 tall boy with a large afro dyed various colors and a leather jacket claimed to be a massive fan of her adorable animated films. Ever since Myth found out and gave him an autographed art book, Fusion has been in special interest heaven. Nowadays, Fusion helps compose music for Myth’s animated films.

Outfit: A large afro dyed various colors, a black leather jacket with an autistic pride badge on the front over a red t-shirt, black leather gloves, ripped black pants, black boots, a guitar case strapped to his back, color contacts.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Photographer

As the girl behind the famous photography blog ,“bustasnap”, Fusion II has traveled all over the world to take pictures of all the scenic landscapes she can find. Upon looking at Fusion II’s photos, Myth knew that she had to use them for background references. This has led to the mysterious disappearance of many of Fusion II’s printed Polaroids. Upon finding out that Myth was the one behind the theft of her pictures, Fusion II chose to print the pictures and hand the copies to Myth. From there, Myth learned that Fusion II is a kind girl underneath her sarcastic and flippant demeanour.

Outfit: Same outfit as her original design, but with her prized Polaroid strapped to her right side.

Just Anon, Ultimate Gamer

Dominating popular MMORPG after popular MMORPG under the name, “anon.”, Janon spends all of his time laying down and not moving from his territory. Despite Janon’s adorable appearance and fashion sense, Janon is foul-mouthed, cynical, and hates just about everybody in this goddamn con. Well, almost everybody. He has a massive soft spot for the two Jr. Ultimates of the convention. Janon and Myth like to organize little slumber parties and nap underneath a large pile of blankets, pillows and stuffed toys, where certain bothersome Anons wouldn’t bother them.

Outfit: A Pikachu hoodie, black headphones with the Overwatch logo on each ear, formal wear and face-mask from original design.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Traditional Dancer

Coming from a long and prestigious line of traditional dancers, Sparkle’s dancing is truly a spectacle to witness on stage. Spicing up her dance moves with glitter and sakura petals, Sparkle’s moves look like they’re straight from a high-budget fantasy movie. Topping off her stellar appearance is a loud and bombastic attitude that truly shines on stage. Just like with Fusion, Sparkle is also a major fan of Myth’s works, particularly her magical girl series. Myth regularly watches Sparkle perform in order to help with animating dancing and the movement of her characters.

Outfit: An orange kimono with pink flower designs all over it, a purple obi, white socks, brown gets sandals, a sidetail decorated with flowers, glasses from original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Lucky Student, and Wet Sock, Former Ultimate Yakuza

Originally the twin children to one of the biggest underground yakuza chains in the world, Egg has since been cast out of the bloodline for their unpredictable luck cycle managed to nearly doom their entire bloodline, and it’s only through Wet Sock‘s control that the entire bloodline didn’t go kaput. Upon hearing about Egg and Wet Sock’s backstory, Myth thought that this would make a good premise for a film. Needless to say, despite their cursed and violent concepts, Myth managed to look past them, to find deeply disturbed individuals that just need a hug.

Egg’s Outfit: A bandaged left eye, a half-shaved haircut, the same same clothes from their original design, but with a clover design replacing the bird designs.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: An eyepatch on their right eye, a half-shaved haircut, a black suit just like Fuyuhiko’s.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Nurse

As the adopted child of a hospital worker, Curious ended up learning everything that they can about the medical field and the human body. Curious has became famous and beloved at the hospital for their kind-hearted and levelheaded personality, as well as their excellent bedside vigil. Because of Myth’s constant neglect of food and sleep, Curious is constantly on standby to make sure that Myth gets the proper amount of nutrition needed to function as a proper human being. Myth may not need Curious constantly hovering over her, but she appreciates Curi’s concern for her.

Outfit: Part of their hair tied into a small ponytail, a mint green face mask, same outfit from original design, but with a white apron with a red cross design on the front, and mint green scrubs.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Mechanic

Famous for his uncontrollable temper and strength, as well as his equal caliber intelligence, Anon Nerd is known for making functional machines out of literal garbage. Unfortunately, Nerd’s entire attitude doesn’t exactly make him a massive hit with other people at his mechanics store. Despite Nerd’s own workaholic tendencies, Myth just makes Nerd so angry with her blatant disregard for her own health. Nerd regularly tries to get this adorable animator to get her eyes off her drawing tablet and just go to sleep, even if it means knocking her out with a wrench.

Outfit: Ruffled-up hair, grease stains all over his body, a black and yellow jumpsuit, black and yellow boots and gloves, scouter from original design.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Team Manager

Despite Eldritch‘s jittery and paranoid behavior in public, Eldritch is unbelievably confident when it comes to leading a group. Eldritch is the number one trainer in “Fort Ritchie‘s Boot Camp”, a training center that trains children to take on the inevitable zombie apocalypse. Ignoring the whole “apocalypse” pretense, Eldritch is really good at motivating individuals to take action. Upon witnessing Myth’s poor health, Eldritch has taken it upon himself to prevent Myth from becoming zombie bait, but Myth really doesn’t want to exercise, and seems content with being zombie chow.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Chef

As the daughter of a professional TV chef, Dream can cook healthy meals to feed all her teammates on her volleyball team. Dream is famous for being just a big bundle of joy and sunshine, as well as her energetic and overzealous attitude when it comes to cooking. Dream has taken upon herself to cook Myth only the best of meals, in order to make Myth actually drop her work to go eat with all the others. Don’t get Dream wrong, she does enjoy a lot of Myth’s works, particularly her shonen works. But would it kill Myth to eat something with actual nutritional value?

Outfit: A white chef uniform, a pink bandana tied over her head, a pink ascot, shoes from original design.

Iris Anon, Reserve Course Student

When you first meet up with Iris, the first thing you would notice about her is her insane clumsiness and her almost stupidly optimistic viewpoint. Despite first impressions, Iris actually managed to get into Hope’s Peak Middle School’s reserve course on academic prowess alone, which makes her a veritable genius. Despite not even having an actual talent, Iris doesn’t let that, or the horrible quality of the Reserve Course get her down. Iris watched a bunch of Myth’s anime with her girlfriend, and she is currently overjoyed to be spending the con visit with the girl behind all those masterpieces.

Outfit: A white dress shirt, a red bowtie, a dark blue skirt, white knee-length socks, black slip-on shoes, bandages on her arms and legs, glasses, star clip, and braids from original design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Swordswoman

As the daughter of an ancient lineage of sword fighters, Purple has been taught the art of the blade by her elders, and yet she manages to surpass them all in blade-to-blade combat. Purple is hardly ever seen without her trusty claymore strapped to her back. Despite what her talent would suggest, Purple is very timid and cowardly, thanks to her sheltered upbringing. Because of her sheltered and old-fashioned upbringing, Purple also speaks in very antiquated vocabulary that is hard to understand. Myth may not understand a word that Purple is saying, but Purple would make a great fantasy protagonist.

Outfit: A black headband, gakuran top, a long purple skirt, lilac stockings, black slip-on shoes, a purple scabbard on her back that holds her claymore.

This series centers around this adorable animator who is unhealthily attached to her work, as the people around her show massive concern for both her and her health.

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PERSONALITY

Ever since she was a child, Animator!Myth has always been into the arts and a very creative soul. Her imagination is all over the place, which helps her with her works. Aside from that, Animator!Myth is also kind-hearted and happy to lend a helping hand to people who needs it. Unfortunately, Animator!Myth has a little bit gaping flaw in her personality: she is a MASSIVE workaholic. Not wanting to let down her loyal fanbase, Animator!Myth works day and night on her animated works, much to the understandable concern of her family and friends. This unfortunately means she goes for days on end without stopping for a snack or nap break, making this already childish and loopy girl somehow even more childish and loopy. Her friends are trying their best to teach Myth that overexerting yourself is no good, and taking constant breaks is the key to success.

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APPEARANCE

Animator!Myth is bespectacled and slightly chubby. Myth‘s undyed hair goes down to her shoulders. As for her clothes, on her head, Myth wears a fuzzy blue hat with ears, an ahoge, and brown stripes. Myth wears an oversized blue jacket with yellow details, that holds an animator’s tablet in one of the pockets, over a pink shirt. She also wears a red skirt, black stockings, and yellow rainboots with a paw print design on the bottom. Clipped to the bottom of her skirt is a tail that matches the hat she wears. ——————————————————-

Well, now that I have finished this week’s talentswap, let me know what you think! In the meantime, have fun and be merry!

-Fusion Anon

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It would be so awesome to be an animator! I love this talentswap!

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