#i wish my colored doodles looked as good as the lines by themselves.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Mother Miranda x Lawyer!Oc ----Tilted Scales

Hello guys :) This is another commission I wrote for the amazing, wonderful @saltwatereulogies

Your support has been insane, I can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy the story ❣

Three days.

That is how long you've been in the village, after years of studying abroad, before everything turns to shit.

As you slowly blink focus back into your eyes, you try to clear the haze from your mind. It feels as though you've collided with a truck. Your body hurts, your wrists protest in their iron cuffs, stuck to the wall as they are, having supported your weight while you were unconscious.

Desperately, you try to recollect the events that led you here...

A grey sky. A bleak day. One moment you were making coffee for your mother, excited to be able to sit down with her in the mornings again... and the next you heard the echo of screams.

Overcome by adrenaline, you bolted out of your house, only to witness a scene straight from a nightmare; humanoid monsters ripping villagers apart, cries and blood and animalistic growls all blending together into one mad mix.

And before you could even warn your mother...

Damn it all, what the fuck happened!

You suddenly struggle against your bonds, hard enough to rattle your whole frame. Your wrists burn from the grind against metal, but you don't care–

“Stop that. It is pointless and you will only injure yourself.” A cold voice, strangely familiar, says from far to your right.

You peer deep into the shadows, searching for the only other person in the empty room... until you see her. A mask advances on you, gold and shaped like a crow's visage, then wings folded into a cloak come into view.

You would be a fool to not recognize her. The local saint. The village's prophet. The very 'saint' your mother prayed to, for your safe return, all these years. Mother Miranda.

The sound of her heels bounces off the walls until she comes to stand directly in front of you. Looking past the openings of her mask now, you realize....

This isn't possible.

She hasn't aged a day. Not a single day, since you left the village. The years should show around her deadly blue eyes, somewhere, and yet they don't.

“I see you remember me...” she says, while you're still trying to find your voice. “Miss Warren.”

“What is going on? Mother Miranda, what happened to the village?!” you demand.

Her expression shows nothing. “The village is in need of... renovation.” she speaks, even, regal. “Repopulation, even.”

You stare at her with wide eyes.

“Now, don't give me that look. You would not be here if you weren't of the ones I chose to keep.” she continues. “You see, from now on, every single person in my domain will make themselves useful in some way, or they will be replaced. And you... you have been abroad studying law for a while now, yes?”

“I... yes.” you reply, still not fully having wrapped your mind around your situation.

“Excellent. What I need from you is simple. You will make the village independent from the state’s taxes as a religious organization... and you will keep foreign investors out from that point onward.”

What... what part of that is simple?!

“Do that for me and in return I guarantee your mother and you will go back to your house safe and sound. You will have no shortage of Lei for as long as you live, Miss Warren.” Miranda promises.

But it is not the sweet part of the deal your mind stays glued to. “And if...” you gulp. “If I can't work around the law to do that...?”

Miranda blinks slowly at you, like you shouldn't even ask such a basic question. Like the answer is obvious.

“Well. Then I have no further use for either of you.”

It is in this moment that it dawns on you.

This woman is no angel and no saint.

She is a devil.

You spend countless sleepless nights pouring over every single paragraph, every little opening or ambiguity in the law you can use to free the village of taxes.

To keep your mother in the dark about this, you work in the office Mother Miranda has provided for you, in her very stronghold.

Although technically it's her home, you don't see her nearly as much as you initially thought. She is gone throughout the day and returns late at night, not even sparing you a glance before heading for her chambers, at the upper sections of the building.

The days she does come into your office to inquire on your progress are few and far-between, your conversations always short and cold.

This evening is different.

“How is your work coming along, Miss Warren?” the prophetess asks with her aggravatingly nice accent, seating herself like a queen on the chair in front of your desk.

Your eyes are tired, but you force them on hers, through the mask obscuring her face. “I think I've got it. I'll be sending the necessary papers tomorrow and the answer shouldn't take longer than a month.”

“Very good.” she nods, a miniscule curve to her lips.

Icy eyes then drop to the wine in the whiskey glass at the corner of the desk. You think she will make a comment about drinking at work, but instead she says;

“Pour me a glass, will you?”

You will your hands steady as you comply, then carefully slide her drink over.

Miranda takes her mask with claw-shrouded fingers... and soundnessly sets it on the wooden surface. Then she pushes the veil at her hair back, shaking long, platinum locks free.

You do a double take you hope she doesn't notice. Because what the actual fuck.

You didn't think her hair was that long, or that straight, or that it would fall over her shoulders like she's staring in a shampoo ad. You didn't think her lips were shaped like a cupid's bow or that her skin was this flawless and radiant.

The helplessly lesbian part of you could begrudgingly admit she was beautiful before... but now you arrive to the painful realization she's drop-dead gorgeous.

“So. I've heard you won cases others would describe as impossible.” she begins.

“Nothing's impossible. You just need to know where to look.” you reply. Law is your comfort zone and she is not that far above you here. “But how do you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

"Nobody truly leaves this village, huh.”

“Not without my consent, no. But I knew you'd come back.” At your slight frown, she elaborates, “You would never leave your mother behind.”

She's right. There was a whole world of opportunities waiting for you out there and yet... here you are.

“Good work, so far. You can take the next two days off. Your eyes could use the rest, Miss Warren.” Miranda speaks, finishing her wine.

“Sarah.” you say. 'Miss Warren' is for clients and she is your boss.

Miranda's lips give a slight quirk that may or may not be a trick of the light.

“I know.” she replies and exits the room, long hair billowing behind her back.

The taxes were only the first challenge. Now that the village is free of them, investors are flying in circles around it like vultures over meat.

In the meantime, Miranda comes to talk to you more frequently.

Lately, it seems she has more free time. You wish that was a good thing, but...

“So... are you like... going to stay here?” You ask after reading the same sentence five times to make sense of it, because her gaze on you is distracting as fuck.

“I'm not getting in the way of your work.” she says. You want to argue she is, but can't quite do that in a way that won't get you killed.

“I'm simply not used to working with company. Isn't this boring for you?”

“No, actually. I find it interesting, even though science is my field of expertise.” she answers. “And the way you take notes is… amusing.”

You try not to blush as you look down at your notebook, filled with different colored markers and post-it squares with tiny stick figures pointing to the more important paragraphs. You have been doing this for so long to sort out information you didn't even realize you were keeping it up in her presence.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asks with a small smile, the first of its kind you've seen.

To your horror, her clawed pointer aims at a particularly silly doodle, barely the size of a pencil's eraser.

“A... bird.” you grimace like you've been stabbed.

“Ah, of course.” Miranda holds back a chuckle but you can tell she's dying to make a comment.

Studying becomes hell for the rest of the time she's there with you, those sharp eyes picking apart every little move you make. At the same time, though, the hours you spend with her make you realize...

She's not a saint, though she may look like one. She's not completely a devil, either, even if she may act as one, at times.

She's human.

Miranda shares nothing about herself when you chat, but she seems to like it when you speak about your time abroad and all the things that left an impression on you there.

Your conversation over wine is cut short, however, when you receive a call from a number you learned means nothing but trouble, lately.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” you tell her.

The one calling you is none other than this month's rival lawyer, trying to dispute your claim over the land for his own boss. He's lost to you before, so it's also personal, but you are confident you have cornered them good with the latest papers you sent them...

And you are proven correct, when, a few seconds later, he is all faux polite on the other line, resorting to offering you money for you to withdraw your arguments.

Miranda comes to stand next to you, listening in to what he's saying.

The problem with that is, the second her arm brushes yours and you catch a whiff of her perfume –which always lingers in your office long after she's left— youare the one who stops listening to him.

Your attention flies to other things, like the inches she has on you, the exact color of her pale blonde hair, the little glint of victory in her stunning eyes.

Oh, no. God, no...

You know what this is, the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Alarm bells go off in the back of your head, as though your own mind is telling your body how foolish it's being.

There isn't a worse thing you can do to yourself than be attracted to Miranda.

Over time, familiarity with the prophetess brings higher levels of difficulty into your 'try to ignore your crush on her' game.

Miranda joins your side and leans over your shoulder, sometimes, to peer down at what you're doing. You don't move and don't breathe until she's within a safe distance again.

Then there are the wayward 'reward' touches, when you turn another investor away from the village. She may pat your back or leave her hand on your shoulder, or even scratch your nape with her claws as a job well done.

You hope your poker face hides the fact you feel her touch on you for far longer than you should, after she's gone.

Tonight, the situation is the toughest it's ever been for you.

There is a rainstorm going on outside; the waterdrops are tapping against the windows of your office as though they're trying to break it. Miranda has pulled her chair next to you so you can talk easier, without having to shout over the cacophony.

“And basically the judge's decision was that—”

You are interrupted by a blinding flash of lighting, during which your mind lets you know the stronghold is easily the tallest structure in it's vicinity—

When thunder cracks down the sky and strikes the building, you nearly scream. Your body tenses and you jump; but Miranda's hands come to your biceps and hold you steady, against herself and your desk.

Another flash comes before you really have time to think about your proximity. She covers your ears with her palms before the thunderclap can send you into overdrive again.

“You are with me and you're scared of a little thunder?” she teases when things quiet down and your heartbeat eases.

It's true; Miranda is the more terrifying force of nature. At the same time, however...

You feel oddly safe to be this close to her.

“Well... I'm not scared right now...” you quietly admit.

Her pointer comes underneath your chin and lifts it so you are looking straight into her hypnotic blue eyes. How is this color even real...

“And why is that?” Miranda asks, her wings coming around you both. They're curtains of black, cutting out some of the storm's sounds.

You want nothing more in this moment than to run your fingers through each individual feather.

You lick your lips. That's...not a question you can answer if you want the balance in your arrangement with her to remain.

Perhaps, though, the scales have tilted for you long ago. You just haven't been brave enough to admit it.

You have the courage to face it now when she leans down and covers your lips with hers, warm in a manner you never imagined she could be.

Her wings pull tighter around you and your mouths slide more firmly together. Lipbalm and creamy lipstick mix, tongues brush, tasting of wine. You are shaking so bad on the inside from how much you want this, more of this, the rumbling of the thunder be damned.

Miranda's palm cups your flaming cheek when she pulls back, perfectly composed and staring at you with a little smirk in place.

You dare to turn a little, lay a tiny kiss on the inside of her wrist, beyond her rings and accessories.

You aren't very fond of storms, but...

You willingly walk right into the eye of this one.

#mother miranda x oc #mother miranda #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #commission #thank you so much :')

67 notes · View notes

obeyme-kaidii-writes · 4 years

Text

Your Otaku

Leviathan x poly gn!MC x Mammon

Words - 2818

Content Warnings - panic attacks, lots of angst, but lots of cuddles too (mostly focused on the relationship between Levi & MC)

Prompt/Inspiration - loosely inspired by the “Ruri-chan is my Bae!” event (and I mean loose)

Summary - You, Levi, and Mammon take a trip to the human realm together, and things take a sudden turn for the worse.

AO3

Arm in arm with Mammon, you walked through the convention center with Levi chattering excitedly at your side. You had managed to surprise him with a trip to the human realm to visit a popular anime convention, and he was just beside himself with excitement. The pure joy was practically radiating off him.

“That Q&A was amazing! Omg I never thought I’d get to see them so close. And they actually looked at me! Can you believe it? I know they were looking at me. There was a connection. I just felt it!”

His eyes were glued to the map in front of him, and only occasionally did you have to tug on his sleeve a bit to keep him from bumping into people. He started making plans about where you three should head to next, and come up with a strategy for maximizing the amount of limited edition merchandise he could acquire. He’d need your help obviously. And Mammon’s too. He only had so many arms after all, and as much as he wished he could stand in line for each item himself, he knew he had to be smart about this.

“So, we are gonna meet back up here in an hour, ok?” he said, “Set an alarm so you don’t get distracted and forget the time.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Got it. One hour,” Mammon replied. He wouldn’t admit it, but the idea of scoring limited edition merchandise actually had him rather excited. Perhaps he could grab a couple extra copies so he could resell them later? These nerds sure seemed desperate for these things, so he figured they’d sell like hot cakes and he’d be swimming in money in no time.

The three of you separated and went your different ways to go wait in line. You glanced at the shopping list Levi had given you. It was decorated with little doodles of Azuki-tan, color coded, and organized by priority. You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Levi working diligently to prepare this for you. You knew Mammon had one as well, but it definitely had way fewer hearts and stickers attached to it.

After an hour of line hopping, waiting, and more waiting, your DDD vibrated signaling it was time to meet up with your boys again and see how successful everyone had been. You glanced around and noticed Mammon right away. His face lit up when he saw you, and you returned his smile with one of your own. His arms were full of way more bags than you knew he needed.

“Did you get enough?” you teased, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“Oi! This is all Levi’s stuff remember? I might’ve grabbed a couple extras to make some quick Grimm, but most of this is his!” As much as he tried to deny it, you knew that less than half of those bags were for Levi, and you also knew that only a third were things he had intended to resell. You noticed some TSL merchandise peeking out from one bag that you were positive Mammon bought just for himself.

“Ok, let’s go with that,” you replied, still laughing. Mammon blushed, realizing he had been caught. He should have known better. You always seemed to see right through him. He was thankful you had decided to keep it to yourself though and let him at least pretend you didn’t notice.

CRASH

You snapped your head up and looked in the direction of the loud noise - the same direction you were supposed to be heading. It was only a moment later that you could hear the sound of laughter break out, and you had a sinking feeling that Levi was involved somehow. You didn’t even bother explaining to Mammon what you were thinking, you didn’t need to, you just walked as quickly as you could through the crowded pathways just short of breaking into a full out sprint.

What you saw when you arrived at the meetup spot made your heart ache. Levi was sitting on the ground, on his knees, and scattered around him were what you could only assume were the bags of merchandise he had been carrying. His eyes were laser focused on the objects in front of him as he attempted to gather everything up and put it back into his bags.

Behind him, only a few yards away, stood a group of teenage boys that were cackling as they looked on. It didn’t take you long to piece together what must have happened - Levi had been in a hurry, and the boys knocked him down, causing him to crash into a display, and sending his things flying.

You could catch bits and pieces of their conversation over the laughter and buzz of the convention center. “Loser.” “Weeb.” “Freak.” It made your blood boil. You wanted nothing more than to march over there and deliver a swift kick in the groin to all of them, but you had something much more important to do.

Not wasting anytime, you made your way to Levi, gathering things up as you went. You crouched down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey babe,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek lightly. You knew he didn’t like public displays of affection, but it was the only thing you could think to do to get him to shift his attention to you rather than his surroundings.

It seemed to work, for a moment at least. Levi turned to look at you, shocked to find you suddenly so close, but relieved all the same. You gave him a small smile, and rubbed his back. You could see he was struggling to keep his composure and not shift into his demon form in the middle of all these people. It was also obvious that he was only moments away from crying.

“C’mon, let’s go find somewhere to take a break,” you said, picking up the last of his bags yourself and rising to your feet. Levi gave a small nod and stood up as well, careful to keep his eyes trained on the ground in front of him. He dare not look around. He could feel the eyes of everyone boring into his back, and their whispers echoed in his ears. Freak. Loser. Weirdo. Creep.

He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself. He just wanted to take off running, but he knew it would only make things worse. He’d probably fall again like the loser that he was. He really should have stayed home. Why in hell did he let you convince him to go out today? If he was in his room right now like he should be, none of this would have happened. He was an otaku after all, and this was clearly divine punishment of some kind for him venturing out of his cave.

Mammon soon appeared beside you, “Hey! Ya can’t go takin’ off like that! What if somethin’ woulda happened to…” His voice trailed off as he became aware of his surroundings and noticed the group of teenagers standing a ways away. Their attention had now moved to you, and they were whispering rather loudly amongst themselves, and Mammon did not like the look in their eyes as they stared at you.

He looked back to you and Levi and realized just how shaken up his brother seemed. He could feel the waves of demonic energy rolling off him as he struggled to keep it together.

“Hey, I got this,” he said, moving to take the bags from your hands, “Y’all go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a bit.”

You gave Mammon a small nod, before linking arms with Levi and leading him away. He walked forward, robotically, no longer the bouncing, happy go lucky boyfriend you had seen just a mere hour ago. How quickly things had changed.

You felt so guilty for leaving him alone. You should have stayed with him. You knew he didn’t like crowds. Or people. If you had stopped to think for a moment you would have realized that it would have been better for you all to stick together. But you had let yourself get caught up in Levi’s excitement, and convinced yourself you had nothing to worry about.

Soon you approached a hall lined with closed doors. These seemed to be conference rooms, and a quick look inside told you they were unused.

“Here looks good. We will just rest for a bit inside, ok? Enjoy the peace and quiet,” you said as you opened the door and motioned for Levi to get inside. He listened obediently, not bothering to really pay attention to where he was going or where you had led him. His brain was on autopilot now, and he was just so incredibly tired.

Immediately upon entering the room, Levi’s self control finally started to crumble as his tail made an appearance, dragging along the floor behind him. He leaned his back against the nearest wall, and slid down to the floor, utterly exhausted. Before he could curl into a ball, you had locked the door and climbed into his lap, straddling his legs as you faced him. Once you wrapped your arms around his neck, it was like something just snapped inside him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, clinging to your waist, sobbing uncontrollably.

As Levi cried, you gently stroked his hair and whispered in his ear, “Its ok now. I got you. You’re safe. It’s just us here.” You repeated this over and over again, like a mantra that you hoped would settle into his heart and disrupt what you were sure were very dark, chaotic thoughts.

“This is so not fair!” he wailed, “Why are there normies here?! They shouldn’t be here! This is supposed to MY place. MINE.”

He noticed the shirt he was wearing, and felt incredibly foolish for thinking it would be a good idea to wear it out of the house, “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have worn this. What kind of loser likes a children’s show anyways?”

He grabbed at his Ruri-chan shirt, and you were sure he would have ripped it off himself if you didn’t stop him soon.

“Hey, let’s not remove our clothes while we are out in public, ok?” you said as you gently grabbed his hand to stop the assault on his shirt.

He froze for a moment as he processed your words. You were right after all. Once again he was about to do something reckless and impulsive. How could you even stand to be around someone like him? He was just a gross, yucky shut in. When were you going to realize that and leave him? Surely it was only a matter of time. You would grow tired of his breakdowns. Get bored of his rants. Annoyed with his negativity.

You brought his hand to your lips and gave it a quick kiss before releasing it and pulling his head to your chest. He seemed to be calming down a little now, if only slightly, but you could still feel the rapid beat of his heart and saw his tail twitch beside him. You resumed stroking his hair as you had been earlier, whispering your affirmations and reassurances in his ear.

He wrapped his arms around your waist once more, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. Your words were starting to reach him, and he concentrated on each and every syllable as he tried to ground himself. You were here with him, so he knew it would be ok. Everything always was when you were around.

He hadn’t the faintest idea why exactly you loved him or put up with his eccentricities, but you had never given him reason to doubt you. Not even for a moment. And even though he shared your affection with Mammon, you always made time for him and took an interest in the things that were important to him. You never forgot about him.

And you were always there to encourage him when he was feeling down about himself. That’s right. He was safe with you. The only person that truly understood him and accepted him for who he was, flaws and all. And you were here right now, holding him close, pressing soft kisses to his head. He could feel your warmth in his arms, and his muscles finally started to relax, aching because of how long they had been tensed.

His grip around your waist began to loosen slightly, though he was still holding your firmly, and his body had stopped shaking.

“Feeling a little better?” you smiled, as you tried to sneak a look at his face, but he kept his eyes hidden beneath his bangs.

“Yeah,” he said. Now that he was calmer he was beginning to become aware of the situation he found himself in and it was making him somewhat self conscious, though he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

“Alright,” you laughed, breathing a sigh of relief. You had your favorite otaku back. At some point his tail had disappeared too. As you continued to alternate between hugging him close, kissing the top of his head, and running your fingers through his hair, you felt the last of the tension leave his body.

“Ready to head home now? Or are you feeling up to checking out more of the convention?”, you asked, taking his face in your hands now and gently turning him to look at you.

He was not prepared for the love he saw in your eyes when he finally made eye contact with you. He was expecting something closer to pity, which was ridiculous really since you had never looked at him that way before, but this was a million times better. Without even thinking he kissed you gently on the lips. You could taste the salt from his tears in his kiss, but you didn’t care. It wasn’t often Levi initiated affection like this and you were determined to treasure every second of it.

He pulled away slightly, and rested his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed. You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs and smiled as you felt him lean into your touch.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say, and you knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t the first time you had witnessed him having a meltdown after all, and you had begun to figure out what worked best to soothe him.

You kissed his forehead, “Of course. You’d do the same for me wouldn’t you?”

He looked up at you again as you started to wipe what remained of his tears from his face. He was sure he looked like a complete mess, but somehow you were still smiling at him so sweetly. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and you gave him a soft laugh. That was your Leviathan alright.

“Obviously,” he said, looking away.

“I think there was one more Q&A session scheduled,” you offered, trying to see if he was interested. Finally, he smiled back at you and you could see that familiar sparkle in his eyes. He definitely did not want to miss out on this, not when he had the chance to shake hands with his favorite manga artist. He bet they even had signed copies of the latest release available. And this artist usually had stickers and keychains to pass out. He just had to get a matching set for you and him. And maybe Mammon too. Maybe.

You stood up, your legs stiff from the awkward position you had been sitting in. You hadn’t realized just how uncomfortably you had been positioned until now, and your knees felt like jelly. You started to wobble slightly, but Levi had already gotten up himself and grabbed your arm to steady you.

“C’mon. Let’s go find Mammon and get to the conference hall. If we hurry, I bet we can get some good seats too. Oh is this the one that always hands out keychains and stuff?”, you asked as you stretched your legs and started to test out your ability to walk again.

He smiled even more brightly, knowing that you had remembered, “Yeah! I really wanted a chance at grabbing a matching set. If that’s ok with you, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He couldn’t help but blush again. How did you always manage to say just what he wanted to hear? How did you always know what would make him happy? He thought about all the fun you had had together earlier that morning, and all he had to look forward to this evening.

Yeah, he was glad he left his room today.

#gn!mc #poly mc #tw: panic attack #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me levi #levi x mc #levi x poly mc #mammon x mc x levi #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me comfort #levi comfort #levi fanfic #levi angst

123 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 3 years

Text

Caffeinated drinks, black dots and I should’ve stayed at home

Kanene’s Notes: Heya, heya awesome beans! Howz you are all doing?!

I am very glad that I finally finished this idea dfghjkderty. Shinsou was the second character that my mind screamed that I NEEDED to put in a cat cafe and kjhgtrertyu I think that one is a litol more funny and fluff than hurt/comfort, like the one with Midoriya, but worry not! In the end of the day one more kid is adopted :D

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* There is passing out due exhaustion, sleep deprivation and cursing, but besides that i don’t think that there are any more warnings. This is more funny and fluff.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Oh!! If you have an idea for another scenario in this universe, hmu! I would love to hear it !!Thankys so much for reading this. Take care! Drink water! Eat well!! Pet a cute animal today!! And please sleep a bit, okie? <3 Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Shinsou blinked for what it felt the fifth time on the last minutes, which was probably the same amount a normal human being was supposed to blink but right now it just felt wrong. He rubbed his stinging eyes again, suppressing another yawn, firm on his purpose to concentrate his brain enough on the task of remembering his order, an almost impossible action by the way a growing headache involved his mind since he woke up.

The teenager focused again on the colorful, full of doodles of paws and whiskers menu, wishing for the first time in nearly two months attending the place that the drinks’ names were objective and direct, and not awful cat puns that made his braincells prefer to combust themselves instead of gathering the necessary information to remind him of the beverage he should ask.

He squinted his eyes, dots appearing in the air. Hm. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe he should order two of the most caffeinated drinks instead of just one? He stared the menu again, frustration flaming on his veins as the words blurred and lost their signification, dancing together with the café’s lights.

And it was only 7 AM.

Perhaps he should have stayed home, on the safety of his bed and the darkness of his room. He knew he should have cancelled his training.

And yet, even thinking about that possibility made Hitoshi’s stomach be consumed by anxious tugs and knots, leaving an unpleasant taste of displeasure on his mouth. His trainings were one of the best moments on his entire week. They were events he would catch himself smiling as he thought about a newest move he learned or how his body seemed to recover quicker from the lessons. Or even how good, how right and free he felt on the gym, tired and sore, in the moment that his mentor nodded, proudness flicking in his eyes.

… How amazing it felt to look at the mirror and see that same feeling reflected on his own gaze.

He couldn’t deprive himself of that sensation, even if dealing with the painful consequences of his sleep deprivation and probably a lecture if his mentor caught him was the only other options.

“Just one more. Just one more person and then I can ask for the strongest caffeinated shit here.” Yeah. This time those cups would be enough to make him endure at least his afternoon classes, he repeated to himself in mumbles. Two cups. Two cups and some minutes petting a cat and he would be ready. He would be ready for the world and society and the whole being a functional human being thing. And then he would get on the metro and nap until he gets home where he would have the real opportunity to properly sleep. Almost there. Just two cups. Two. Two cups.

Gosh, he probably sounded like Midoriya, mumbling non stop like this. A mental image of the energetic teen looking as tired as Shinsou and drinking coffee as if his life depended on it popped on his brain, leading to a sudden urge to giggle manically take over the purple haired boy, and for the way some other customers eyed him warily he possible vocalized that impulse as well, limbs feeling at the same time too much heavy and too much light.

He was so fucking tired.

“Next one!” Loud. So loud. Shinsou obligated his body to step closer, opening his eyes enough to realize that dark spots still painted his vision. Huh. When did he close his eyes, again? “Good morning, little customer! How can I help you today?”

Hitoshi stared at the figure in front of him, senses slow like he was under water, trying to understand the distorted sentences being directed at him, the dots growing and twinkling. Black dots were supposed to be able to do that?

The world swayed a bit under his feet. He tried to move his lips but they didn’t obey him.

“Little customer?” The voice sounded worried, and maybe that is what compelled the boy to take a deep breath, putting all his will in forming word after word when a nauseating wave of tiredness hit him, leading his conscience’s grip in reality weaken.

“I am going to pass out.”

And then the world got completely black, his senses disappearing together with a background screech.

Well, fuck.

[…]

Yamada had seen a lot of crazy, strange things while working at the cat café.

As example that one shift when an adult of blue hair, strict pose and clear exhaustion dripping in waterfalls from his form was convinced that he was in a library and fiercely tried to return a book to them, doesn’t taking a ‘no’ as answer until the blond was left stupefied with a book of “The Secrets Hidden in The Bottom of The Ocean” on his arms.

Or that occasion when a boy with a blank expression wearing Victorian clothes and completely surrounded by crows opened their door, looked from a side to another, stared at the deepest parts of Yamada’s soul, analyzing all his dark fears and secrets before slowly blink and say “Wrong store, my apologies” walking back and calmly ignoring the hissing and battle yowling of dozens of cats and crows.

Or the day a green haired woman with a kind, calm aura just walked behind the counter completely unphazed by Hizashi and Aizawa’s unbelieved looks, made two healthy snacks, patted their cheeks saying ‘You two need to eat more, dears’ and then disappeared as if nothing had happened.

However, none of those events ever prepared him for the moment which purple eyes would stare his in an unfocused state, not really looking at anything and a wobbly smirk – if he wasn’t accustomed with Shouta’s grin, he would easily call it ‘creepy’ – would paint his customer’s pale face, the silence ringing alarmingly on his ears.

“Are you okay, little listener? Do you want to sit for a minute? You look extremely tired.”

As the words came out of his lips, a spell seemed to break, the other’s face getting even paler, smile falling and eyes widening leaded his body to stumble forward instinctively, something on his guts screaming for him to get ready. A few other customers on the line grumbled in impatience, looking at their watch and protesting. Somewhere, in the deep part of his brain, Yamada wondered why those things only happened when Aizawa was out and no procedures for those kinds of situations were previously discussed on their contract.

“Hey, guy,” a blonde teenager behind the paralyzed one said, tipping forward in an attempt to catch the other’s expression, his kimono following each move, “are you… here with us?”

“Little listener?”

A hesitant poke on his cheeks, two pair of eyes warily watching a third.

His mouth finally moved.

“I am going to pass out.” His voice was light, stitched together by certain. His legs trembled under his own weight, body collapsing.

“You WHAT?” A terrified shriek mixed itself between Hizashi’s words, flying across the whole store.

“Oh, shi-”

His blonde client didn’t waste a second before holding the other, arms locking under his armpits in a strange kind of hug, knees weakening with the sudden, unexpected effort, the limp teenager not even flinching with the touch, laying there completely motionless.

Hizashi blinked, gulping, adrenaline exploding on each one of his fibers, color slightly draining from his own face, a piece of his conscience wishing with all its strength for this to be only a dream. When his eyes opened, everything would be the same.

He blinked, the deafening silence still crushing the room, one set of black eyes staring at him in confusion and growing panic, another set closed, heavy, dark circles under it.

Right. He didn’t have time for this.

So, he blinked again, finding himself in front of them both, pushing his feelings under a mask of a calm, an easy reassuring smile already slipping on his face, crouching to get the legs of his customer, catching the gaze the other and winking, “let’s get him on a more comfortable position, right?”

A determined nod, quick, careful steps as they both laid the purple haired one on a small couch placed under some shelves, having to gently dislodge three sleeping cats, who hissed in irritation. The voice of Nemuri, attending the rest of the line filling the space and being acknowledged in the back of his mind, serving as a firm ground and helping his muscles to relax, even if just a little bit.

Hizashi stared the young boy in front of him, looking somewhat peaceful, a bit of color having already returned to his face, soft snores coming out from him.

… Hitoshi. That is his name, right? He wasn’t a new client, always coming at every fifteen days, always by morning and always caffeinated drinks that only Yamada - on his most delirious moments - ever thought in trying, quick to go to play with any feline who appeared in front of him. Although, he never stayed more than ten minutes, the quiets ‘bye’s he gave to the felines never failing to melt Yamada’s weak, bleeding heart.

A childish voice pulled him right out of his thoughts.

“Mom, is he dead?”

A snort escaped his lips before he could help it. Kids.

“Sir?” The teenager shook a small device with a shiny screen in front of him, the logo of a new rock band he hadn’t a chance to listen to yet on the background “I found his phone, I think we should call his emergency contact…?”

“Of course! Thank you, little helper!” He ruffles his hair, flashing a smile and thumbs up as his finger quickly clicked on the call button, listening, not trying to show his impatience as it ringed.

“You’re late.” A tired voice answered him, and Hizashi felt his entire body relax completely, right before the surprise shook its frame, too much pieces clicking together in a puzzle he didn’t even know he was solving.

“SHOU?”

[~*~]

“I am sorry.”

“You will be writing a formal letter apologizing to Hizashi, Nemuri and to me, our classes will be cancelled for this week and, if I notice you didn’t recover properly on this free time, for the next week as well. I am not going to stand by and watch you running yourself to the ground, damaging your potential because you lack of some sense of self preservation, do I make myself clear?” Shinsou tried to not visibly flinch at his sensei’s words. He almost forgot how much intimidating Aizawa could be when totally serious. They stopped by the Cat Café’s door, the black eyes staring at him.

“Yes, sir.” He answered, lowering his gaze. Shouta sighed, his worry stopping to come out as harsh and necessary words to materialize itself in the form of him patting the boy’s head, messing his hair for a few seconds before opening the door and getting into the establishment.

“Good. Now come in, Hizashi has been worried and he won’t stop pestering me until he sees with his own eyes how you are.”

Hitoshi didn’t had time to question how someone that he just met – if you consider passing out in front of him a proper meeting – could be worried about his well-being when, as the door clicked behind him, an excited screech filled the room, forging the realization that maybe that weird high sound before his faint wasn’t just the ring of his ears.

“SHINSOU!!” And, in a blink of eyes, the blonde was in front of him, hands on his face, turning it from a side to another, up and downwards, “You look so much better with some color on your face! I am glad that you finally took some necessary rest, huh? Your eyeshadows even got lighter, which, phew, is such a relief! For a very terrifying moment there I almost thought you would be as bad as this guy right here.” Yamada locked his arms around Aizawa’s shoulder, using the time to take a breather and smile, gladly giving the younger some time to process the flow of words thrown at him. “You gave us both quite a scare, kiddo.”

“I am deeply sorry for inconveniencing you and interrupting your work, Yamada-san.” He bowed, a slight embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

“Just please don’t do that again and you will be fine, little customer.” Hizashi then squinted his eyes on his direction as Hioshi brought himself back to his previous position, shoulders tense and straightened back, much different from his previous more slouched pose. Yamada’s eyes got a few inches wider. “You gave him The Talk!” He turned himself to Shouta, his excited sentence, loud enough to probably making his friend deaf, if the black haired adult wasn’t already used with the other’s attics, previously covering his ears before the outburst.

His response was a grunt, Aizawa dislodging himself from his touch with scoff and half heartedly mumbles, ignoring the confusion on his pupil’s gaze. “Maybe he looks like that because of your total disregarding of personal space.”

“Don’t worry,” Hizashi put his hand at the side of his mouth, as if he was confiding Shinsou’s a secret. “He only does that because he is worried about you, too. Don’t let yourself to be fooled by his grumpy façade. He is a mother hen at heart.”

“I am going to lock you outside and give all your CD’s to the kittens a their new toys.” The other threatened, going behind the balcony and turning the coffee machines on, preparing the store to open. The few cats who were already wandering around the place yowled and meowed in despair, as if the blonde hadn’t feed them fifteen minutes ago and they were starving under the hands of such unloving and uncaring creature. Aizawa crouched and distributed the treats hidden on his pockets for everyone of them, nevertheless. His friend used the distraction to mouth a ‘see?’ at the younger’s direction, eliciting a snicker from him, his body language more relaxed.

“Feel free to do whatever,” Aizawa proclaimed, not staring at the boy, who felt a flower of warmth blossom on his chest. “Just be sure that all your homework is completed by lunch time or the moment you decide to go. Sushi is probably napping now, but when she wakes up, I will warn you.”

“But first,” Hizashi clapped, capturing the attention as he walked with a dance on his step to the bakeries, taking two plate on his way. “breakfast! For you both. And that means something substantial and not just a cup of coffee.”

Shinsou startled from the table he decided to place himself, shaking his head. “Yamada-san, it’s okay, you don’t need to-”

“Nonsense, nonsense! I want to. Eating breakfast alone is just sooo boring, you know?” Hizashi spun on the place, almost throwing the muffins and breads around as Ochaco used his distraction to attack his shoelaces. “Uravity, stop, I need those.”

“Her name isn’t Uravity.” Shouta appeared again, bringing drinks and yawning, his focus changed to the boy’s. “Better give up. I’ve been fighting against him for years now.”

“Also, her name is Ochaco Uravity Fluffy Second and you just refuse to call her that because you’re just jealous of how much genius I am.”

“I refuse to call her that because I care for her sanity.”

“Lies, lies.”

Hitoshi snorted, hiding his smirk behind his hand. “I prefer his name better, sensei.”

Aizawa watched them high five between the cheers of the blonde with an unimpressed expression. “Cheeky brat.”

“You’re just grumpy because he has a good taste. Friendship ended with Shouta, now Shinsou is my new best friend.”

"I am truly devasted." Aizawa deadpanned, taking a long sip of his beverage, hiding his smirk as Shinsou snorted, Yamada's dramatic wailing in the background.

And, as the playful bickering engulfed them between the warm food and purrs, Hitoshi decided that maybe losing his weekly training wasn’t so bad if that was what waited for him.

8 notes · View notes

muertawrites · 4 years

Text

Aphrodite Kallipygos (Zuko x Plus Size Reader) [Modern AU]

Summary: Zuko takes up an art class as part of his therapy and ends up falling in love with a woman who’s a work of art in her own right.

Word Count: 3,500

Disclaimer: There’s a scene in this fic where a couple of thin girls engage in some rude behavior and are criticized in a few none-too-kind words. I want to make it very clear that this scene does not reflect my views of thin people or body positivity - these characters are meant to be a metaphor for greater culture and its strict, unrealistic views of what women should look like.

Author’s Note: I hate rom coms but after writing this fic it dawned on me that I would be excellent at writing them. Also, this one goes out to all my art hoes out there. I geek out pretty hard about art history in this one.

Speaking of which, I reference real-world cultures within the structure of the Avatar universe in this one as well. Something I like to do when I zone out is think about which actual countries would belong to which bending nations; my heritage is primarily from the British Isles, and what with liths like Stonehenge and the hella castles hanging around out there, I think we’d be earth benders - same with cultures like the ancient Egyptians and the Pueblos. I also love the idea of Pacific Islanders who can bend both water and lava, and Incan air benders, and I really wish the idea of global cultures as benders were explored more in the Avatar universe.

Have I mentioned that I’m a massive fucking nerd?

~ Muerta

Zuko never considered himself much of a creative. When he thought about it, he realized that that part of his life had never really been explored; his father always pushed him to focus solely on his bending and combat skills, never allowing even the consideration of other practices or hobbies. As much as Zuko was passionate about the martial arts he'd mastered, he also came to learn that he never had a choice in being passionate about anything else.

“I think you should take an art class,” his therapist suggested. “It would be a good outlet for you, and one that isn't directly influenced by your family.”

“I don't think I've ever drawn anything, though,” Zuko admitted. “I wouldn't be any good.”

“It's not about being good,” his therapist explained, “it's about exploring things that weren't available to you in your youth, freedom of expression. Consider it - there's a shop in this neighborhood that offers classes.”

She handed him a business card adorned with an array of different art styles, from delicate watercolors to bright, bold cartoons; it read, “classes for everything” in a cheerful, clearface font.

Zuko shrugged and pocketed the card. A week later, he was enrolled in a basic studio art course.

He arrived for his first class embarrassingly early, passing under the bell of the shop’s front door twenty minutes before it was scheduled to begin.

The building that housed the shop looked to be older than the rest of the neighborhood around it; the storefront was tiny, with crowded shelves lining each wall and tables and racks wound throughout the center of the space, creating a maze that led to the checkout counter. The room’s ceilings were high, supported by beams in a dark stained wood that matched the floor below. Paper mache sculptures and handmade lanterns hung from the rafters, and the simple, antique plaster walls were decorated with paintings and sketches, likely given by the shop’s clientele. From somewhere in the back, a radio sang folk music, accompanied by the hum of an electric fan.

Zuko wandered through the labyrinthine merchandise displays until he reached the register, where he was met with the single most beautiful sight he may have ever laid eyes on.

You stood behind the counter, leaned over a textbook with a pencil in hand, tapping it back and forth over the pages; you bit your lip in concentration, a few strands of your hair falling loose from the messy knot atop your head and over your cheeks, though you were too focused on your reading to care. An apron bearing the shop’s logo was tied around your waist, emphasizing your body's dramatic curves.

To Zuko, you were gorgeous. He couldn't place what exactly about you allured him; all he knew was that his pulse had quickened to a near dangerous pace.

You looked up at him when you noticed you were no longer alone, flashing him a kind, somewhat distracted smile. He nodded curtly, too nervous to do anything but stare.

“Can I help you?” you greeted him politely.

He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a pitch higher than normal as he spoke.

“I'm here for the art class,” he told you.

You smirked a little, peering down to check the time on your phone.

“It's a little early,” you said. “I was just about to start setting up. You could help me if you want? So you're not so bored while you wait?”

“Yeah,” Zuko mumbled, “yeah, sure.”

You grinned, waving him behind the counter and through a door to the back room. To his surprise, what he expected to be a minuscule stockroom turned out to be a space larger than the actual shop, lined on one wall with massive warehouse windows that poured late afternoon sunlight into the room. Metal shelves and boxes lay haphazardly about, mixed in with a scattering of easels, pottery spinners, canvases, and other art supplies. You directed your guest to a stack of chairs in the corner, instructing him to line them in a half circle in an empty portion of the room while you placed the easels.

“So, do you have a name?” you asked, attempting to make conversation that could drown out the repetitive radio drone.

“Zuko,” he introduced himself.

You stopped what you were doing, fixing him with an awed, slightly amused gape.

“Firelord Zuko?” you wondered.

He blushed, nodding.

“Oh spirits, I'm sorry I didn't bow!” you exclaimed, dropping into a low curtsy. The gesture was mixed with equal parts mirth and genuine respect; Zuko was unsure how to respond, his heart flickering as he watched you.

“I heard you were living somewhere in the city,” you continued after making your own introduction, setting an easel in front of each chair he positioned. “Not into the whole royalty thing?”

Zuko shrugged. He focused on his work, too nervous to look you in the eye.

“Just weird going back there,” he told you. “I don't really want taxpayer money going to making sure I live above my means.”

You leaned against the last chair he set down, smiling warmly at him.

“That's very respectable,” you responded. “Thank you. Y’know, as someone who pays taxes.”

Zuko chuckled softly as you handed him a bin of art supplies, instructing him to set one of each item at every station. He did as he was told, stealing glances at you whenever he was sure you weren’t looking.

“So, uh… do you own this place?” he asked, fumbling over his words.

“Oh, no, this is my professor’s shop,” you replied. “I just work here part time.”

“You’re a student?”

You shook your head.

“Nope. Graduated last year. I work days at the history museum downtown. I also give art history classes here, and help out with the ones Professor Cong teaches.”

“Oh.”

Zuko paused, unsure of what else to say.

“... They teach a different type of history just for art?” he asked after a moment.

You laughed, covering your mouth to muffle the sound and apologizing, giving him a little nod as you collected yourself.

“Yes. Some people even get whole degrees in it,” you giggled. “Not that it’s a useful field to learn anything about.”

Zuko shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment of sounding stupid in front of such a cute girl; little did he know, you found the question beyond endearing.

“It sounds important,” he contested. “I’ve been meeting historians from all over the world to correct all the propaganda from the past hundred years. It never occurred to me that I would need different historians for art.”

You smiled at him, meeting him where he stood and handing him one of the sketch pads from your bin. His cheeks pinkened, his eyes darting away from yours as he took it and mumbled a “thank you”.

“I like you, Firelord Zuko,” you decided aloud. “My classes are on Wednesdays. You can come if you want - free of charge.”

Zuko nodded, swallowing heavily as he met your gaze once again.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I appreciate it.”

You laughed a little bit, taking his now empty bin and returning both to their place on a nearby shelf. The shop’s bell rang from beyond the threshold and you went back to the front counter, telling Zuko to take a spot wherever he liked. He sat in the front row; wherever he thought he could be closest to you.

For the next five weeks, Zuko attended not only his studio art class, but your art history class, showing up early to each lesson so he could spend time alone with you. Despite the fact that you invited him to sit in, he paid the fee for the second course, not wanting you to go without the extra pay for your work - he found a doodle of a turtle duck on his seat the next time he showed up, the fuzzy little penciled duckling telling him he was a terrible listener, but thanking him anyway (with a heart scribbled in beside the words).

With your guidance, Zuko learned that there was much more to art than just vibrant colors and pretty decoration. Everything in art, it turned out, had significance, each piece and work holding insight into the people and cultures who created it; you spoke passionately about the art of the Egyptians, who used specific shapes and colors in their imagery to tell stories beyond the written word, about the mysteries of prehistoric structures that revealed how early humanity was much more sophisticated and interconnected than considered at a glance, about the symbols that translated and influenced across centuries to shape how each nation, each culture, portrayed themselves into the modern world. He found himself hanging on every word, falling even more deeply enamored with you with each moment he spent with you.

It didn’t take you long - what with the easy, pleasant conversations you shared before classes - to discover that Zuko lived relatively close to you, only two stops away on the local metro. Knowing this, you often saw each other on the days you weren't at the shop, meeting at the station between each of your respective neighborhoods and having coffee or dinner in one of its many cafes, talking about anything and everything and managing to pass several hours together in what seemed like the blink of an eye. You loved being with Zuko, finding the more you did it, the less you wanted your rendezvous to end; you thought about him all the time, getting all kinds of giddy whenever he crossed your mind.

On one of your extracurricular excursions, you and Zuko wandered around the local high street, marveling at the different streetside vendors and dreamily window shopping behind the glass of the upscale boutiques, doing little more than enjoying each other’s company. It was a hot day, and along your way, Zuko stopped at a coffee stand to get you each something cold to drink.

A pretty young woman in line in front of you eyed you up and down, her gaze flicking from between you and Zuko with disgust. She jabbed her slim, graceful elbow into her equally as flawless friend’s side, whispering something in the other woman’s ear as they both glared at you, sniggering cruelly behind flat stomachs and angular, willowy frames.

You sneered at them, making a point of hooking your arm within Zuko’s and pressing your much wider hip against his, the poison of the encounter sinking into your skin and infecting your thoughts. Zuko noticed your change in demeanor immediately, steering you away from the scene as soon as your drinks were served.

“You okay?” he asked, still holding tight to your arm.

“Fine,” you quipped, biting back tears. “Just a couple of pretty bitches proving how fucking hideous they are on the inside.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Zuko halted, pulling you to the side of the street and out of the way of traffic. He lay a hand on your shoulder, the firm, able grasp of his palm somehow making you feel even worse.

“Someone would really make fun of you?” he wondered, outraged and incredulous. “Why?”

You shook your head, smiling defeatedly as your lower lip quivered.

“People have made fun of me since I was a kid, Zu,” you told him, speaking as if he should’ve just assumed it. “I’m fat. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“So?” Zuko replied. You were so shocked, you physically leaned away from him, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re fat. That doesn’t mean you’re not pretty. I… I think you’re really pretty. Gorgeous, even. You’re beautiful.”

You blinked at him, taken aback. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“... Did I break you?” he tried after a moment, sounding concerned that it was a genuine possibility.

You laughed, shaking your head in feverish disbelief, attempting to clear the confusion that fogged your battered brain.

“No, I just… Nobody’s ever called me pretty and fat before.”

Zuko shrugged.

“Both are true,” he told you. “I like your body. You look like one of those Greek sculptures. Of the goddesses.”

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of dishonesty or patronization; all you found looking back at you was the clumsily genuine man you were quickly falling in love with.

“... Have I ever told you about Aphrodite Kallipygos?” you asked.

Zuko shook his head, as confused as you had been a few seconds ago.

“She’s a statue of Venus,” you explained. “She’s got her dress raised up over her backside, and when they found her originally, she didn’t have her head; the guy who restored her sculpted it so that she was looking back at herself, admiring her body. There’s even a whole folktale about a pair of brothers who fell in love with two women because they had, like, beautifully fat asses and the town built a temple dedicated to Venus and her butt. The name literally translates to ‘Aphrodite of the Beautiful Buttocks’.”

Zuko chuckled, raising the hand at your shoulder to cup your cheek.

“See?” he said. “Men have worshiped thick, juicy butts since the dawn of time!”

You laughed, your cheeks turning bright red as you buried your face in your hands, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his chest and further hide yourself.

“Zuko, oh my god,” you breathed. “Promise me you’ll never say that out loud in a public setting ever again, please. You’re the fucking Firelord for Tui’s sake.”

Zuko chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still grinning. “Made you feel better, though.”

You pulled away from him, affectionately punching him in the shoulder. He laughed, gasping at you in mock reproach before pressing a finger into your side, shocking you with a burst of static electricity; you cackled as you jumped away, sticking your tongue out at him.

Zuko felt a rush of lightheadedness as he watched you, savoring the sound of your laugh and the radiance of your smile. It was then he realized he was in love with you.

The next studio art class focused on model drawing - more specifically, a nude model. Zuko, having been raised in what was arguably the most reserved family in the world, was nervous about the idea of having to sit in front of a stranger for an hour, not only staring at their naked body, but immortalizing it in graphite on a page.

He was mortified when he arrived at the class and found you sitting in the corner, wrapped in nothing but a silk dressing gown.

As you climbed the platform you were meant to model on, your limbs rattled. You began to question your sanity, wondering what you thought you were doing offering to pose for the class, what kind of statement you thought it would make. You faced enough judgement from others about your weight with your clothes on - what the hell did you think they would do when you stood before them completely naked, every bump and crevice on full display for them to gawk at and criticize?

You glanced to the side at Professor Cong, seeking some sort of assurance or comfort from him; he, being the seasoned professional in his mid-sixties that he was, sat reclined in a chair in his Hawaiian shirt and flip flops, scrolling totally undisturbed through Pinterest on his phone. Honestly, you expected no less - his obtuse reactions in the face of the awkward and uncomfortable were basically a superpower.

Taking a deep breath, you untied the knot holding your dressing gown together and let it fall, slipping gracefully from your shoulders and to the floor. You assumed a comfortable, classic pose, purposely facing yourself away from the man whose eyes you could feel searing into your back.

Zuko’s breath hitched as he watched you undress. Though he only saw the full of your body for a moment, he was captivated. The swell of your breasts and curve of your stomach sent him into a dizzy spell, his mouth going dry and his skin heating with a noticeable flush. The rolls of your back, the ripples and divots along your thighs and rump, the stripes etched into your skin like the veins through a granite block, he drank in every part of you, moulding every detail with a focused hand as he sketched. He made note every scar and beauty mark. Once or twice, his mind drifted towards the salacious, imagining how your body would feel beneath his, soft and supple, releasing exalted breaths and enraptured moans, your nails dragging down his back as he drove you closer and closer to infinity…

He inhaled sharply, snapping himself back to his work. You were Venus, Minerva, Diana - a goddess among men. He would gladly spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

The moment the class ended, you gathered your dressing gown and made a beeline for the employee bathroom, getting back into your clothes as quickly as you could physically manage. The experience of nude modeling wasn’t nearly as harrowing as you expected it to be; you actually found it kind of freeing, being able to show yourself to a room full of other people and come out of it unscathed, in fact feeling quite beautiful - what had you nervous was the fact that you’d have to face Zuko immediately after the fact, seeing as you took the train home together after classes. His was the only opinion you cared about, and you wanted nothing more than to convince yourself that he hadn’t judged you as harshly as the self-hatred brainwashed into you made you believe.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Professor Cong stood in front of one of the empty easels in the back, smirking at the drawing the student had left there.

“Your boyfriend left you his piece,” he teased.

You blushed, glaring at him as you approached and snatched the sketch from his hands.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you tried in vain to defend yourself.

Professor Cong just chuckled.

“I’ll believe that when I see evidence to the contrary,” he replied.

You looked down at the paper in your hand and felt the breath drain from your lungs, your heart and stomach soaring into your throat.

Zuko had drawn you in the image of Venus, your body draped in gossamer fabric and your head turned over your shoulder, eyes cast downward and lips slightly parted in a blissful, ethereal expression. In the corner of the page, he’d written “Aphrodite Kallipygos” in his sweeping handsome script, beneath which was his signature and the date. You’d never once seen yourself look so beautiful, let alone in the eyes of someone you loved so fiercely.

You swallowed hard, rolling the drawing and securing it with a hair tie from your bag before exiting the shop through the back, knowing Zuko would be in the alley waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you when you appeared through the storeroom door. “Are you okay? You looked really ner-”

You interrupted him by throwing your arms around his neck, slamming your lips into his in a desirous kiss. It took him less than a second to recover himself from the shock of the action and curl his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours and lifting you every so slightly off the ground, kissing you just as hard as you kissed him. When you parted, you were breathless, your cheeks fiery red and your lips swollen the color of vermilion. Zuko smiled at you, one side of his mouth curling up slightly higher than the other.

“So you liked it?” he asked.

You laughed, nodding.

“Zuko, I loved it,” you gasped. “I love you. I think I loved you as soon as I met you but that sort of thing is really cliche and stupid to admit.”

Zuko chuckled, raising his hand to your cheek and kissing you again, his lips soft and tender this time around. You sighed happily into his mouth, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the feeling of his body sharing the same space as yours.

“I think I loved you the moment I met you, too,” Zuko confessed, his nose grazing against yours as he pulled away. “But you’re right. That sort of thing is really stupid and cliche.”

You giggled, tugging gently on the collar of his jacket.

“Come on,” you prompted him. “Let’s go back to my apartment. You’ve already seen me naked; we need to make it even.”

Zuko laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the alley, his side pressed firmly against yours.

“Fair,” he agreed. “But if you want me to pose for any art, you’ll have to sign some paperwork. I’m still Firelord, you know.”

📚 table of contents 📚

✨ join me on patreon ✨

{ subscribers: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @celamoon @omgwhattheeven @i-am-not-a-thot @fandomtrash1616 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @just-another-romantic @berkeliums @eridanuswave @oleander-in-the-wind @kinismanditory @lammello @peppermenty @theawesomefactor123 @loganrwebb @ijustwannabecanadian @a-hopeless-fan @softvv @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @pearl-stonecutter @crazy0t @commander-rex @kittyddandnyla @abbyarchie @smol-grandpa @nonbinary-rogers @themanwiththemetalarmsdoll @witchywrter @canibea-whore-yet @fuckwhateverfuck @eridanuswave @duh-dobrik @sum-stuff13 }

72 notes · View notes

crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

Note

6, 3, 7 H2OVanoss! You know me heh ( •ॢᴗ•ॢ⋈)

Ahhh Owlbun! So I hope this fits the perimeters of a cute-meet cause I don’t know if it does but I think it does? Idk, its cute, please enjoy this mess of a story. >.> It’s a diff style than I normally do, but….hope it works out!

AU: Coffee shopTrope: Meet cutePrompt: “You had no idea, did you?”

Pairing: H2O Vanoss

If Evan was being honest, he hadn’t expected the chalkboard wall at his coffee shop to make much of a difference. The Owl Cafe was a staple in the community, and he had an okay group of regulars that liked to come in and check out his new blends on the daily. There were ones he knew by name, like the 6 year old girl Momo who loved Brian’s hot chocolate, or the late-night writer Kryoz who always seemed to appear when the place was deserted. Some regulars he didn’t catch names for, so he titled them as he saw fit; Runner man, vlogger teen, cute sweatshirt guy. All had their place in his cafe, which was steady in its sales. He wasn’t rolling in cash, but it was enough to pay Brock and Brian, so he felt that he was doing alright.

The chalkboard had been something of a whim. A friend when he was younger had a wall in his bedroom with chalkboard paint that Evan had always enjoyed drawing on before bed. When he’d bought the cafe two years ago, he hadn’t really remembered the fun times he had scribbling across the bedroom wall. He was too focused on payments and attracting customers to stroll down memory lane. That had changed three months ago when bumping into Lui, the two speaking about their times as a child. The wall came up, of course, and Evan couldn’t let the memory go for days after. Lots of his customers had children, and college kids were always quick to bore when waiting for coffee. So one night, after a really good week at the shop, Evan went out and bought the paint in order to make his wall next to the waiting area a drawing board.

The result was amazing; people loved coming by and adding their own doodles to the wall, filling it with different styles of art or funny sayings. There were always the punks who tried to draw dicks or write derogatory marks, but street justice tended to stop the crimes far quicker than Evan or his friends picked up on them. Evan enjoyed looking at the board at the end of the night, seeing what secrets it held from the customers he served. He tried to guess who drew what, or where each blurb of inspiration writing came from. Was the struggling mother of three the one who drew the calm beach? Did the preppy college girl express her darker thoughts in the corner of the board? Or was that old couple who shared a coffee really sweet enough to write their 70th anniversary with a heart around it? All of the pieces of the board was a collection of minds, hearts, and souls, and the nights didn’t feel complete for the shop owner without gazing at them in appreciation.

His favorite part was the confessions; like an anonymous message board, people left words of secrecy every day. Evan felt it was a safe way for customers to express themselves without having to reveal their identity, and so far he hadn’t gotten any confessions that worried him. Brock always enjoyed reading the romantic ones where someone would claim their love for a friend, an ex, or a person they could never have. Brian’s favorites were the weird claims; he made Evan keep the ‘I like smelling feet’ confession up for three days. Evan couldn’t really say he had a type he sought out, because all of them were fun to read. If anything, he liked taking in the handwriting of the confessions, seeing whose were quaking with fear or more broad with confidence that only anonymity provided.

It was nearly two months into owning the board that a message caught his eye; it didn’t have much color or outlandish design to it, so Evan wasn’t sure why it stuck out to him so much. But the writing just…looked different. Friendly. A little messy but with long enough strokes to show some care went into it. The words only took up a small part of the board.

I come here every day because I think the owner is nice. And maybe cute? I wanted to ask for his name, but I’m too nervous.

Evan blinked in surprise, feeling his face heat up when he read it again. Someone…confessed about him? It was sort of risky, since this was his shop and he could have checked in on the board at any time, but it was also endearing. Someone was too shy to approach Evan, but felt strong enough about him to confess on his wall? He read the line two more times while he cleaned off every other drawing and confession, leaving the words in the middle of the board. Slowly, his eyes dropped down to the basket of chalk at the bottom of the wall, fingers twitching by his side. Despite having it for months, he’d never actually written on it. He left designing the morning greeting to Brock, as he was the artistic one of the three. But now…

He kept the confession where it was, drawing a little circle around it with the red chalk. Then, with block letters bright enough to catch any returning customer’s attention, he wrote out a simple reply.

It’s Evan. Nice to meet you.

He didn’t think about the teasing Brian would rain on him, or how unlikely it was for him to get a response. The confessions were meant to be anonymous, not openers for conversation. So sure that his words would be left unanswered, Evan didn’t look once at the board the following day, trying to keep focused on making his customer’s happy. Any time he wasn’t working, he rushed into the back, trying to stay occupied so he didn’t stare at the wall. The day dragged on forever, but when the final customer was out the door, Evan nearly fell flat on his face vaulting over the counter to move to the board.

“Desperate much, buddy?” Brian’s shout from across the shop went ignored when Evan scanned the wall, looking for any sign of a response. At first, the words around the response were disheartening; nothing connected to what he’d said. The drawings were still cute, and he wanted to read the confessions, but his heart slightly dropped at the sight. Had he scared off the anonymous messenger? He felt his frown start to capture his lips, but then his eye picked up on something. A blue circle had been wrapped around Evan’s words, and a line of chalk was drawn to the left of the board. Curious, his eyes tracked the line. Like thread in a maze, Evan was led to a familiar handwriting.

Your name fits you! I’m…Jonathan. Is that okay?

“Jonathan.” He rolled the name around in his mouth, his smile small when he finished. He knew instantly what his new secret penpal was asking, and he found the red chalk from before in order to scribble out his answer.

That’s totally okay. I bet your name fits you, too, though I’m not sure who you are. Care to give me a hint?

And for the next two weeks, the hints poured out.

I like to wear blue a lot. Luke says it matches my eyes. But I think yours are prettier.

Evan counted seventy three customers with blue eyes who wore blue that day, but it did little to limit his search.

I saw you drop that lady’s coffee on purpose. She deserved it for treating Brock like that. You’re a really good boss.

The incident had been in the morning around rush hour, which probably meant his penpal was at least his age.

You only wear hats when you clean the mocha machine; it really looks good on you.

Except this was something he did at night, so maybe he had different shifts throughout the week?

Whenever little Momo comes in, you always give her the best smile. Sometimes I wish you’d smile at me like that.

Evan’s face hurt from how many smiles he gave out that day, but there had been nobody who hinted at knowing why he’d been grinning so much.

You’re so beautiful. I really want to ask you on a date.

Evan’s face flush red for the rest of the night.

After the days of trying to piece together just who ‘Jonathan’ was, Evan was almost ready to throw in the towel. The little banter between them was fun, and peeks of Jonathan’s personality came out with doodles or smilies at the end of his sentences. He mentioned his friends, his dog, and if Evan closed his eyes, he could almost make out a voice to the words. Everything just felt so familiar about this guy, like he was already seated comfortably in Evan’s life. But he just couldn’t come up with a name, or anything to sink his teeth into.

So, with a shot of courage (Brian may have supplied the alcohol) and nothing to lose, Evan wrote out one final message.

Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.

Evan tried not to look at the board, just like the first day, hoping he wouldn’t scare away his crush by staring the wall down. Brock and Brian helped distract him, jokingly picking out old men and toddlers as ‘his secret admirer’ before laughing at the outlandish suggestions. Evan tried to smile and joke with them, but his shaking hands when giving out the orders always proved how nervous he was. Each time a customer came up to him, his back tensed, wondering if it’d be his penpal. But they never were, always asking for sugar or a bag for their half eaten muffin.

When the last minutes of the day ticked away, and just a few regular souls lingered in the cafe, Evan finally broke. He left Brian and Brock behind the counter to walk up to the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of the apron to hide his twitching fingers. Slowly, his eyes scanned the board, trying to find the blue handwriting he’d grown to adore over the couple weeks he’d gotten to see it. But there was nothing; his crush hadn’t replied.

“I scared him away.” Evan sighed and pressed his head to the chalkboard, eyes closing in defeat. His shoulders slumped down, unable to hide his disappointment. He’d just wanted to know who this guy was, because starting to fall for a chalkboard he technically owned was starting to feel a little creepy-

“Um.” An unsure voice made Evan bite back a groan, trying to keep his composure. Even if he was being ghosted by an anonymous customer, it didn’t mean he could ignore his other ones. Pulling back from the wall, Evan turned to catch sight of a familiar face. Cute sweatshirt guy had been a regular for months, always polite but never one to really engage in much conversation with Evan or the others. He always contributed it to the slight stutter in his speech, which only seemed to come out in longer sentences. It was actually kind of late for cute sweatshirt guy to be at the cafe; he’d bought his coffee close to an hour ago, and though he normally left right after, he’d seemed to linger now. He’d been one of the people who’d come up to Evan, looking like he was going to burst out in a confession, only to ask for creamer.

And sugar.

And a new cup.

…And more creamer.

For a coffee he always drank black.

“Wait.” Evan’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes widened on the blue gaze nervously watching him, fingers curled into the worn down sweatshirt that was identical in color.

“Yeah, I’m-that was me. Jonathan. Who you were-I’m the guy tha–that, um, fuck. Luke said I should’ve just-but the wall was…was our thing.” Jonathan’s face lit up in color at the confession, the nervous laugh that poured out loud and uncontrolled. It echoed from the emptiness of the cafe, and both men jumped when Brian swore and knocked over a stack of cups in surprise. Tagging that as future Evan’s problem, he turned his attention back to Jonathan, who looked ready to let his sweatshirt swallow him whole. The smile he gave only lifted half his mouth, proving he didn’t feel confident. “You had no idea, did you?”

“None,” Evan admitted, hands pulling out of his apron at the defeated look that sunk over Jonathan.

“Right, that’s- I don’t have to ask you on a date if this isn’t what you…if I’m not who you-”

“Ask me!” Evan cut him off fast, not wanting to let Jonathan feel rejected for a second longer. He rushed forward, snagging hands that tugged the end of torn sleeves to entwine their fingers. Blue eyes widened above him, but Evan refused to let his racing heart of reddened cheeks stop him from repeating his confession from before. “Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.”

“Dinner? Can I-would you like to get food with me tomorrow?” Like a puppy, Jonathan’s body perked up at the possibility. Evan laughed before lifting their hands to cup Jonathan’s cheeks. He pushed up onto his toes, feeling the slight intake of his customer’s breath before he answered with a kiss.

But just to be safe, he wrote ‘yes’ on the chalkboard the next morning.

#kihoori #H2O Vanoss #H2O Delirious #VanossGaming #OTP boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

214 notes · View notes

hoopdiddies · 5 years

Text

I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 7)

A/N: This is probably the longest I've written in this series. Again guys, thank you for the support, your comments and likes mean so much! My tag list is always open so feel free to ask. And on a slightly heavy note: the next chapter could be really angsty. Just a heads up right there uwu

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: Angst, slight drinking, slight swearing, (yeah the fluff is still present)

W/C: 5k-ish

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

Edited// I forgot to link the previous parts

Parts: 6 5 4 3 2 1

(Got the pic from Pinterest hhh-)

Storing the luggage bag you've purchased for a fair price in the spare room, you come across a small box of sundries tucked in one corner with cobwebs clinging to the sides. Your eyes light up with curiosity spiking within you, you pick it up and dust the webs off, blowing the particles away from the top. You squat on the floor and open the flaps, discovering small yet familiar items that had been lost in time– one of them being a sepia-toned polaroid of you and Ben posing dramatically with hilarious doodles drawn on your faces. You forgot about this, feeling a little guilty that you had hidden it away in a drafty box without remembering doing anything of the sort. You flip the picture over and spot a date and an unfinished sentence written in faded ink on the bottom left part. This was taken on Homecoming night.

'I'm not going-' it says, clearly discontinued next to the date. Silly to think that the picture somehow represents a puzzle piece torn away from its board.

You were bound to graduate the week after and barely a day after, not see each other for several years due to your career paths and post-college choices.

You pull on the hem of your shirt, clearing the picture of dust and any more impurities, finally fitting it into your back pocket to finally treasure it the way it was always meant to be treasured.

The door clicks as you bring it close, your eyes gluing themselves at the hardwood floor seconds to having self-pity billow over you at how quickly your tears surface in the corner of your eyes from the memory of Ben spinning Rosy around - the exact way he did with you -and kissing her like she's a pouch full of life.

You clamp down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to stain your cheeks with your pooling tears. "Jeez, you just-" you pace back and forth in frustration, balling your fists as you gesticulate lazily, "you just don't get it, Y/N! Ugh, you're so- fuck, just get over it..." Knowing your harsh soliloquy would be getting you nowhere, you snarl strongly at yourself and roughly wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.

"He loves Rosy. F-freaking deal with it!" The reminder takes a hiss from your quivering lips for it to sink in; you have your own place in his life– a place behind the line you'd drawn in the years prior. The friend zone couldn't be any more hollow and cold than it already is.

And a polaroid pic is the only remnant left of how inseparable you and Ben were in the early days.

At the same time you're feeling your heart tear itself apart, Ben pulls out a picture - similar to what you've found - from the inner pocket of his old varsity jacket in the middle of rummaging through his wardrobe. He leaves his room in his pajamas and tosses himself on the couch next to a sleeping Frankie, softly apologizing to the little beagle for disturbing her cat-like nap. As he cuddles Frankie close, he scrutinizes the picture and it's also from Homecoming, but in it both of you are beaming widely with your arms slung around one another– the doodles ever-so-present on your faces. Behind it, the date and the continuation of the trailed-off sentence written at the back of your share of the memory.

'-anywhere at all.'- it ends in Ben's part of the duality. He grins fondly at the long lost picture, feeling twice as guilty for not keeping it safe and...close to his heart, just as he had promised you that night.

- - - - - - - -

In the convenience of Lucy needing some company to shop with for awards season just as she had returned from her get-away with Rami, she drags you along happily, having to pass through you insisting that you stay at home and study but purposefully ending up under her mercy anyway. You couldn't say no to her, she's basically your sparkly, glam counterpart and you're in need of her life-altering sparkles as of now. Especially since you're going to be tagging along with them, mainly as Joe's date cause you know, you're his 'girlfriend' and all.

You're at the mall, in a stylish boutique full of lines of voguish clothing and shoes that could span miles if not compressed together. For once in the hours you've spent scampering around the mall with Lucy to hoard dresses, skin products and make up, you admit that this is the most aesthetically pleasing space in the entire building.

You traipse along a section with black dresses fashioned into different forms, silently praying that what you have with you will amount to at least one of the varying prices.

Lucy's on the opposite side, ogling at the most colorful section in the boutique for a piece to wear. She peers over at you to make sure you've chosen your 'fighter'. A few swishes of the dresses lined up and you do, holding it up high to evaluate the appropriateness.

It's a sleeveless, halter neck satin that's just a few inches above the knee. Utterly backless but it ends right up the small of your back. The fabric is stretchy enough to move around and breathe in as it simultaneously hugs your shape. You love it but gulp as you prepare yourself for the price. Flipping the tag over, you suddenly wish you could let out the biggest, girlish squeal the human race has ever heard with how surprisingly affordable it is.

"Finally picked out yours?" Lucy pokes her head up playfully and you nod, quite speechless but giddy. She makes a grabby hand at your dress to examine it for herself.

Well she's the fashion guru so why not? You hand her the dress and as she trails her eyes from top to bottom, her mouth falls at the simple yet elegant details. "This is perfect! I highly doubt that it's not going to catch every exposed eye present at the event."

Your flush profusely at her comment. "Thanks but I'll be bringing a coat with me."

That triggered her, but of course you're only teasing. "You better effing not." She warns you and you chuckle, taking the dress from her and evenly brushing the skirt.

"I won't, you can sleep soundly tonight."

You assure her of the possibility. As you exit the boutique with a few bags you're not used to holding, Lucy takes out her phone and gasps, her face contorting with a little disbelief. "Uh oh, this might ruin your mood." She hands you the phone and you gape at her confusingly before taking a quick look.

Ben's posted some updates on his wedding preparations, shockingly tagging you, Joe, Gwil and Lucy in one photo. He's pretty busy alright; unable to text or call you for days but miraculously tagging you out of nowhere.

You come to disregard it until you notice one minute but important detail hidden in plain sight in all of his posts– there isn't a single one with him and Rosy together alone. None of such as well on his new ones.

The only post he's had with a close girl is the one with you, which is at the very bottom of his Instagram feed. You won't admit it but it warms your heart a little. Actually, a whole lot despite wondering why there's none of him and his fiancee. You hand Lucy her phone back and tilt your head to one side, suddenly finding the eagerness to go on shopping. "Let's go."

The following week comes as a radial blur contrasted to the slightly moderate one you just woke up from; your manager phoning you up to take the earliest shift you've had in years at the expense of your allotted time to rest, the heavy workload and rush hours in the upcoming hours followed by the slowest progress of filing your travel documents and visa needed for your departure on the 26th. You've got tons of missed calls from your parents and Joe, who's requested for you to pack up early since you'll be leaving for LA with Lucy on the day of the awards but earlier.

Also noting that you still need to double check the costs for flying to LA and back, ruling out the one exclusive for your flight on the 26th.

For mere days you feel as if you could lose your sanity as your life spirals into madness with everything you're required to do– whether or not you're obliged to do it.

But they are effective distractions for that problem you are still very much preoccupied with. That's a matter noteworthy of later discussion. Amidst all the chaos happening, part of you wishes for Ben to reply to your messages or even talk to you in the slightest. You never bothered to call this week since he's tied up but the least he could do is let you know how he's doing, if he's thinking of you once in a thousand passing seconds.

You give up for a day waiting on him and drown yourself in work.

- - - - - - -

Securing your phone between your tilted head and your shoulder as you indulge in your talk with Joe through the line, you crouch and zip your luggage bag close. Your eyes fixating themselves on two, separate luggage bags for two, separate travels.

"Was that all of it?" Joe's disembodied voice asks. You spring up and take your phone between your fingers. "Pretty much. I better have a kick out of something by the time we touchdown tomorrow– it's my first visit to the US." You inform him, leaping into your bed and landing comfortably.

He chortles softly and ensures you. "I know and you can be sure to expect a good par- ow! Bad kitty!" His smooth transition to a yelp amuses you for split second.

"Are you alright? "

"No. I'm finally feline food to my kid." He refers to his pet cat that has taken a small nibble on his finger, in which Joe returns with a light ruffle to its fur. You can't help but giggle heartily at him.

"Anyway, I'm picking you and Lucy up from LAX tomorrow." He gives you that heads up and you bring your hand up to your forehead. "Where will we be staying?"

"I've booked a hotel earlier so you've got nothing to worry about the moment you land." A faint crunch can be heard from your end and you mind to ask Joe about it. "Are you- are you eating?"

To answer your question, he bites down on his food sloppily and guarantees you of what you heard. You smack your lips together as your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Sometimes you make it easier for me to hit you with a pillow."

"Is that how you treat your boyfriend?" He taunts at you and cackles, his distorted voice bouncing off of the walls of your room. You sigh, defeated by the fact that this charade is still going on. It's silly and immature yet you and Joe somehow managed to stick to the act.

"Speaking of boyfriend though– would he be furious if I told him that I couldn't be there on his wedding day?" Since you're rested and got nothing else to distract you, you pop the question to Joe.

"Ben?"

You hum softly.

"There are two scenarios that we need to consider," on his end, Joe taps his finger on his lips as he thinks of said scenarios, "Best case scenario- he would get discouraged and slightly unmotivated, and obviously sad, but he'd still support you cause that's your dream."

You sit up and twirl the ends of your hair around your finger, swallowing. "And worst case scenario?"

Joe falls silent before exhaling harshly. "You'd crush his soul, heart, everything ranging from physical to spiritual and it would take a toll– and I mean a substantial toll on your friendship."

"Joe, don't make it sound like a prospect! "

"That is, " he adds strongly, "if he finds out that you had meant for him to be oblivious to it." And he's right. But you had a reason. You still do. Even if you do end up telling him and he supports you, you need a great deal of space to move on.

As long as he's committed to Rosy and you're in the sidelines still in love with him, it's just something toxic. You couldn't love anybody they way you do Ben and you feel like you'll never love someone like him ever again. Albeit how clueless he is sometimes and clumsy, you both had survived every storm and wave. So sticking around to witness him give his hand and heart to someone else is torture for you.

"I'm gonna be direct and say-" just as you begin talking, your phone shrills to another caller, cutting you off from Joe.

One look at the screen and your heart begins racing. Speak of the devil. You reserve an explanation for cutting off and answer Ben, clearing your throat. "You're late."

Ben's gruff chuckle welcomes you back. "I know, I'm so sorry. Busiest week I've had and the lady at Starbucks signed my cup like a snail."

"What are you doing tonight that requires coffee?"

"Call me dramatic- or do so, given that I'm an actor- but I just want to stargaze right now." You hear a light rustle coming from his end, like he's seated out on his lawn.

Silently giving him the 'oh really' look, you spread one side of the curtain to let some moon light in. "Ben, you're leaving early tomorrow."

He hums, seemingly enjoying himself. "But that's not an excuse to not enjoy the night." This boy can not get any cornier. You cast your gaze upon the moon, sighing profoundly. "How did the wedding planning go? Good?"

"Hm, yeah. Church wedding, big reception. Whole lot of booze binging planned out. And a killer bachelor party the day after the awards. " He jokes through the line and you tell him off in a playful chide. "Benjamin Jones, you better-"

"I won't. I won't." You sense his gentle smile from your end, checking the time and reluctantly coming to the decision to hit the hay since you'll be leaving early as well. As much as you want to recreate those late night conversations you once had with him, you can't.

"Hey?" You coo somehow.

"Yeah?"

"I gotta sleep. I have to meet Lucy at the airport at 5."

He gives out a throaty grunt as if he's pulling himself up. "Tragic. I'll see you in LA then, love."

Your lips curl up into the gentlest smile with the moonlight blessing it from the window. "You too. Tell yourself and the rest- especially Brian and Roger- that I'm gonna be rooting for you guys to get up on that stage."

"I will. Thanks for the motivation, Y/N. All the words coming from you just mean so much to me. To all of us." And in his voice, you can hear his utmost sincerity and fondness just highlighting his tone.

"Anytime. Now let me sleep, you bloke. "

"Haha, alright. Love you tons, love."

Shifting your eyes to the sky once more, you reply, allowing the words you're about to say to mean more.

"I love you too, Ben. Good night."

- - - - - - -

24th

You had promised Lucy you'd arrive 10 minutes earlier than her and you really didn't hold on to that promise. As soon as you arrive at the airport nearly bathing in sweat and deaf from the multiple rings Lucy has given you, you both take off to the waiting area with your heavy luggage where you spend an hour and a half waiting for your flight to board. Joe has sent two texts telling you that he's still in the middle of having coffee and it's a questionable action since he's 8 hours behind you and is expected to be asleep by now.

You reply with a simple, "See you there" before heeding to the call of your flight number from the speakers.

All the rushing and you haven't had a bite of breakfast yet. An eleven hour flight doesn't sound so bad, as long as you make sure you don't reel everytime you get up to use the bathroom and acquire jet lag the moment you land from a direct flight without any pit stops. The flight is long as you are awake but by the time you fall asleep in between hours, it shortens the duration. The pilot announcing your arrival wakes you and Lucy from the latest nap you've had on the plane. After gathering your luggage and answering a couple of phone calls on you way down the plane, the arrival area is where you spy Joe behind the red tapes, a scarf around his neck and an eager look plastered on his pale skin, just waiting for you and Lucy to step in. His eyes crinkle as he sees you both treading towards him with a handful of luggage. He greets you both with a tight hug and ushers you to his car, assisting with the transport of your things.

He's booked you in the hotel he's staying in to, of course, avoid some minor inconveniences especially since the awards start at 7 pm and you drastically need Lucy to help you prepare. Upon reaching the hotel, he leads the both of you up the second floor and into the hall for your rooms.

Apparently you and Lucy will be sharing which is the great and Joe will be staying in the room right across yours.

After giving yourselves a brief tour of the room, you settle in and unpack your essentials.

"Y/N, bring out your fighter!" Lucy declares with a giggle, pulling the dress she's chosen from her suitcase. It's a purple, off-the-shoulder, crepe satin and black velvet gown that cascades gracefully against the stable air.

Your eyes widen in awe at how it looks against the light. "No need for a match, Luce. You win," you raise your hands up in surrender, "that's- that's catching more eyes. From Rami of course."

"Oh shut it. You'll look smooth in black." She clicks her tongue and smoothens it at the edge of the bed. You whip out yours and hold it up high, wavering a little at how you'll look like in it tonight. How fortunate you were to find 3-inch, black pumps closeted when you were 'panic packing' the night before. You take it out from your suitcase and set it aside before striding towards the blinds, pulling it up and beholding the breathtaking view of Hollywood before you.

Your first visit to the US and you're already headed to the Oscars. This isn't the real life. This is just fantasy.

- - - - - - - -

"We're having a dinner party afterwards, I don't see any reason for two sandwiches before the ceremony." Staring blankly at how Joe's handling waiting for you and Lucy to emerge from your room, Rami purses his lips quizzically– he's come by to pick up his girl as well. The two men look dashingly handsome in their black tuxes and slick hairstyles– their individual charm strong as they highly anticipate for your appearances.

Joe swallows the chunk in his mouth before speaking. "I'm stressed."

"About what?"

He bites down on his last sandwich, dusting his hands off crumbs as he reasons out. "It's the Oscars. Biggest ceremony of the year."

With a shake of his head, Rami opens his mouth to protest but pauses as the creak of the door behind them butts in their conversation. Lucy - exquisite in her cascading satin gown and look dotted in light to moderate make up - emerges with her purse in hand and eyes heady on Rami.

Joe wishes he could loosen some hinges in Rami's jaw since the latter has got his mouth agape at her girlfriend's evening look. To him, she is his ultimate award and he wouldn't have it in any other way.

"Hey, babe." Lucy smiles delicately and kisses Rami's cheek, to which he responds with a breathless, "Luce, you look..." His starstruck silence finishing his compliment for her. Joe hums, agreeing with crossed arms. "I wish I was as pretty as you, Boynton."

"You boys look handsome, too." Lucy giggles softly and Joe begins to wonder. "Where's Y/N?"

"She'll be out in three...two..." As Lucy deliberately pauses her countdown, you come out of the room, head down as you feel a bit hesitant to continue but you regain your confidence and look up timidly– your appearance putting Joe in the same position Rami was just in with Lucy. The dress really agrees to your form, contouring every curve of your body in a semi-sensual way, guaranteeing that you'll be snagging some looks tonight. Your (H/C) hair frames your face intricately with your light make-up emphasizing the color of your eyes and lips. The light brush of air against the skin of your exposed back makes you clutch your purse tighter, deeming it uncomfortable.

Lucy smiles proudly at her work and that is you. "Well, how does she look Joe?"

Joe lets out a hitched exhale, hazel eyes wide as a sinkhole and a slacked jaw struggling to budge. "Like my girlfriend."

"You wish." You can't help but retort playfully and he brings his finger up to his lips, hushing you. Rami compliments you as well and you thank him as the four of you make your way to the elevator– your arm on Joe's and Lucy's on Rami's.

You've taken a limo for the sake of convenience, since Joe and Rami wanted to propose a pre-toast - with the champagne present in the vehicle - to their successes and hard work in the past year. You have faith they'd bring home an Oscar; considering how spectacular their work was portraying the members of Queen. You're also thrilled that you're about to meet Brian and Roger.

The limo parks just across Dolby Theatre and the four of you climb out, making your way arms-in-arms into the place crowded with paparazzi and attendees. You see yourself as a small fish swimming in a sea full of majestic dolphins. This is the big leagues right here and you're not even one bit of a celebrity– at least you feel like you aren't one. After a couple of shoulder brushes with either familiar and unfamiliar faces and escaping the blinding flashes of the cameras, the four of you reunite with Gwilym who has Roger and Brian present by his side. You are introduced to the two Queen members by Joe and you couldn't be any more happier to meet them in person. A couple of moments of interacting with the rest of the crew and cast, Ben joins the 'party' looking sharp and admittedly drop-dead gorgeous in his white tuxedo blazer and slicked back hair with Rosy by his side.

Before he could even reply to the greetings of his friends, he lays his eyes on you and for a while– his pupils dilate and his expression flits faster than he can command it to. He can't believe what or who he is seeing before him amidst all the glam. Letting go of Rosy's hand for a minute, he steps close to you, indescribably captivated. "Y/N...h-hey."

You keep your composure, musing back. "Hey. You look left out, outfit-wise, and a like a million bucks."

It takes him nearly five seconds to reply with the way hes has his eyes transfixed on you. It's like he's seeing you for the first time. Your evening look setting him back to Homecoming night and something inside him just tweaks. You avoid his mindless gaze and break the silence, trying your hardest not to flush. "Ben, please talk. It's just really-"

"You look...beautiful." He breathes out like he had just gotten up from under water.

#queen #borhap #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine #joe mazzello #ben hardy fanfic #imagine #fanfic

68 notes · View notes

salty-apples · 4 years

Text

My first memory of a wedding dress is a little vague but I can still remember the feelings of awe and wonder it inspired. It was my cousin’s wedding and I was her flower girl. I was decked in a frothy, flowery pink dress and my cousin who seemed to fill the room with her height (I was tiny then and everything looked huge from my perspective) was in the biggest ballgown I had ever seen. Struck by the beauty and sheer mass of the dress, I began to look forward to the day I too, would get my ballgown moment (opinions have since changed- I am no longer a ballgown aficionado).

Since then, I have been on a quest to find the most beautiful wedding dresses in the world- and from my rather hyperbolic title, you can tell that today’s post is going to be a doozy.

Hello and welcome to another post where I fangirl over a topic.

Today, I’m going to be pulling together all the wedding dresses I’ve ever loved, from cinema to real life, you name it! This particular post is in two parts and I’ll be discussing why I love the dresses and why I think they make the top ten all-time list.

First up, wedding dresses from film.

Carrie Bradshaw’s Vivienne Westwood dress from Sex and the City

The Sex and the City universe was a fashion trip. Although I never actually watched the series, I was glued to the products of Carrie Bradshaw’s wardrobe in the movies. The photoshoot for the magazine after her engagement was announced was amazing, giving us shot after shot of what happens when you get the all-star treatment. The dresses from the designers were works of art but none embodied the fashion forward spirit of our heroine than her Vivienne Westwood dress. To even begin to understand why the dress is so special, you’ve got to first look at its creator. Vivienne Westwood is known as the godmother of punk fashion, and to dip her nib in the wedding ink, you know that such a designer is going to do something extraordinary.

And extraordinary it was. Carrie’s dress is a ballgown, holding true to her princess-like status. But it is also sleek and modern, capturing the very essence of a woman who sees herself as the heart and soul of New York. It is beautiful and paired with the feather, it was stunning. This dress is an all-star entry, deserving of its own spot in an exhibition and I’m sure there a few people who would agree.

Mia Thermopolis-Renaldi’s dress in The Princess Diaries 2: A Royal Engagement

I don’t know how many people know this but I am not the biggest fan of lace, mostly because lace in all its forms disagrees with me.

However, I am willing to forget all that when I watch The Princess Diaries, especially the second movie. I love all the fashion moments, from Queen Clarisse’s dress to Mia’s 21st birthday party to their parade outfits. But the zenith of all moments was Mia, gliding down the aisle in the most regal wedding dress a fictional character has ever worn.

And you know what it had?

Lace, and a good amount of it.

Mia’s A-line beauty was built for a queen-in-waiting, the lace being a sign of that girlish, somewhat careless nature of hers and the smooth silk providing structure to the lace, strong support for a girl transitioning into a woman; a princess into a queen. For anyone who is looking for some sweet royal inspiration, look no further than Her Royal Majesty, Queen Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Queen of Genovia.

Lisa McDowell’s wedding dress in Coming to America

You know what’s wild about Coming to America?

It’s how they managed to pull off all that Euro-African headgear! It cracks me up every time.

Anyway, Coming to America doesn’t disappoint when it comes to delivering iconic lines and equally iconic fashion. I’m sure by now we’re familiar with the various interpretations of Imani’s court presentation dress during prom season but least talked about is the dress that ends it all- Lisa’s bubblegum pink delight of a wedding dress.

If you’ve read my colors post, my total abhorrence for the color pink is no surprise. That hatred melts away when I see Lisa’s dress. In form, it is the typical choice for an African bride- massive ballgown with a bustier and a towering tiara (the only thing it’s missing is the typical jacket- you know the one). But in color, it sets her apart. That’s not to say that there aren’t members of court who are donning the pink for the wedding. No, this is different. They are clad in soft gauzy pastels but she is the American woman who stole the heart of their prince and she is in a quintessentially American color. She is representing.

And in this thesis, I will discuss why everybody needs to vote Lisa McDowell for president…

Just kidding. Tl; dr: Lisa got the best dress a princess-to-be could ask for.

Toula Portcullis’ dress in My Big Fat Greek Wedding

For anyone who hasn’t heard of Toula Portcullis, she is the much-harangued heroine of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Honestly, her pains are many especially after she gets engaged and has to balance the cares of planning an intercultural wedding while still managing to stay sane. She’s stressed and if not for her fiancé, she would have lost it completely.

That aside, the reason her dress is here is not because it is a great beauty (it’s not quite to my liking, really) but for the sentiment attached to it. Toula, as the last female to wed in her family, is gifted with the poufiest dress in history, a dress steeped in a mix of love, culture and good wishes. It is her family’s wish that she lives and lives well and with the way they handle they dress, the ball of fabric passing from happy hand to happy hand before it gets to the bride, their coos and prayers are following her. Even though she declares, “I am a snow beast” as she sees herself in the mirror, she’s still as her family wanted her to be- the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. Later on- after some reverse tailoring by the new couple- excessively frilly, silly and poufy becomes pretty and sweet.

And that is the end of my story.

Tiana’s wedding dress from The Princess and the Frog

Tiana’s wedding dress is as a few of my friends from school used to say, special spesh. Besides being the first and only black princess in the Disney Princess franchise, she’s also the only one whose dress can boast of what it’s made of.

First, it is straight up juju- a feat I am yet to see any Nollywood movie accomplished. Tiana had the best dressmaker in the world and I know this because from what I know, any woman who is called ‘The Voodoo Queen of the Bayou’ has got to outrank another who goes by ‘Fairy Godmother’ (I’m sorry, Ms. Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bo but it’s a fact).

Second, her dress is 100% natural- everything swamp material. Tiana marries (pun intended) fashion, function and today’s buzzword, ‘sustainability’ in what is perhaps, the grandest statement a new princess can make. It is green, regal and eco-friendly and who better to wear a dress that striking than a woman who understands how to live a no-waste life.

And next, wedding dresses from real life!

Grace Kelly’s wedding dress

No list about the best weeding dresses is complete without mentioning Grace Kelly.

Before there was Meghan Markle, there was the original American superstar to marry into royalty and her dress… Constructed by her studio’s seamstress, Helen Rose, Grace Kelly’s dress was built in such a way that it did not overwhelm her in the way that many wedding dresses can. The lampshade silhouette of the dress, though uncommon now, is quite unique, especially with the way it stands- with unnoticed support structure, of course. The lace is delicate, sculpted into style that is both modern and old. It fits its wearer perfectly and makes her quite the standout bride. The dress is timeless, an opinion I’m sure most bridal enthusiasts would agree with.

Beyoncé’s vow renewal gown by Galia Lahav

There’s something about Galia Lahav creations that just transport the viewer or wearer into another world. Dresses from the brilliant folks who make them are elegant, stylish and beautiful, and this particular dress – worn by none other than Beyoncé – takes the cake.

I’ve always loved seeing Galia Lahav dresses and this particular dress has been my favorite for a long time. When I saw that Beyoncé had nabbed it for vow renewal, I was practically jumping for joy. It is an elegantly crafted piece, with a structured bodice, statement sleeves, sections of skirt that stylishly expose the thigh, and both delicate lace and rococo-style detailing juxtaposed beside each other. It’s beautiful dress for a beautiful lady who makes beautiful music.

Was that too many beautifuls?

Angelina Jolie’s wedding dress

Just like Toula Portcullis’ dress, Angelina Jolie’s dress was steeped in sentiment. A simple enough dress, pleated at the bodice and attached to an A-line skirt, the main draw of the skirt was what was it’s back. Made by Versace, it was as simple as it was sweet.

Giving her children license to express themselves, the back of the wedding dress was transformed into a canvas for them. Each of her children contributed drawings, doodles and sketches which were then transferred from paper to fabric and transformed into high art. It was, in short, a beautiful tribute from loving children to their loving mother. I bet Maleficent would have loved it.

Kate Middleton’s Alexander McQueen wedding dress

Whenever a royal wedding rolls around, regular folk and royal watchers get buzzing. All royal families are well, royal and there is none more royal than the most famous one of all: The British Royal Family. So, when a future queen gets her wedding day, the best designers are entrusted with the task of making the royal bride look the part.

To execute this task, the Duchess of Cambridge turned to the house of Alexander McQueen. Head of house, Sarah Burton delivered in a big way, turning the volume on the phrase, ‘English Rose’ all the way up. Incorporating motifs of the English Commonwealth into a traditional princess look, lace and silk and delicate detailing were the order of the day. Her Royal Highness’ wedding dress beat all on her wedding and it has continued to be one of the top contenders on the list of the most defining wedding dresses of the last twenty years.

And this absolutely fantastic creation!

This dress looks like Christmas morning, with a side of ‘It’s my birthday!’ You can be sure that though my preferences aren’t with ball gowns, this is one dress I would not hesitate to put on if it were given to me!

And that folks, is the end of today’s post. I know everybody’s got their favorites and I can’t wait to hear yours.

This post marks the end of the ‘clearing out my drafts’ spree and I, for one, am glad that now, I can really begin to work on new stuff. A few pieces are currently cooking in my head and who knows, maybe a certain suspended series might get some new life! It’s the season of second chances and I am just brimming with joy as Christmas Day approaches.

Until next time, ciao!

Top 10 wedding dresses of all time My first memory of a wedding dress is a little vague but I can still remember the feelings of awe and wonder it inspired.

#art #cinema #December #design #Fashion #film #History #Life #literature #Past events #Princess #Royalty #Wedding #White

1 note · View note

cutiecrates · 5 years

Text

Cutie Reviews: Kawaii Box May 19

Before I begin I have an announcement: later/tomorrow I plan to post a sort of... glossaryish post that will be about ALL the boxes I subscribe to :D Because earlier today it occurred to me, I never really talk about the brands themselves anymore unless they have some update or if I complain in my reviews. I thought this type of post would be nice for anyone who just wanted to learn more about a specific box to see if they would be interested in it. I will also be including my own opinions on the box as a whole, pros and cons, how the box has changed, etc.

So if you like things like that, then make sure you come back soon!

Until then, we’re gonna focus on this:

Word of the month: Tanjyoubi - Birthday

Disney Princess Dress-Up Puffy Stickers

Our first item is a set of Disney Princess Ariel/Little Mermaid stickers. Covered to the brim with stickers, this sheet has multiple outfits, accessories/props, and deco bits to have fun with the sticker doll and then-some!

Besides Ariel, there are other Disney Princess and I’ve even seen they added a really cute Minnie mouse one on Blippo.com. Those in this set each cost $3.90.

I was really torn between all 3 dresses, the turquoise one was a classic for Ariel, and I love how the pink one reminded me of Aurora, but I actually settled for the purple one because I though it looked really pretty on her. Then I chose the shell purse and matching decoration/accessory and a light pink sash to add more to her dress, what do you think?

While on the subject, which dress would you have chose for her? Or would you have given her a different colored dress entirely?

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s really simple, but it’s also pretty fun and cute, I love dress-up stickers because of how creative you can be. I mentioned this before but I really want to start a scrapbook or photobook and fill it entirely with dress-ups~

The stickers puffiness is nice and soft, and I like how these don’t feel finished. So I could go back to it a few days later and swap out her purse and hair piece to make her classier with a sun hat. Or I could give her the turquoise dress if I wanted.

Sanrio Ziptop Bag Set

Next up is this pack of adorable Pompompurin zipper bags. You get 6 in total, including 3 Small 70mm x100mm, and 3 Medium 160mm x 190mm. Each set offers different designs, and besides Pompompurin (who I couldn’t find on blippo btw) there was also the other basic characters like my Melody, Gudetama, Little Twin Star. Each set costs $5.90.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I think these are really cute, and practical :D according to the back of the package you could put all sorts of things in these, and I like that both sets are zip-locks. These would be a perfect gift for any Pompompurin fan.

Kawaii Dreams File

This is the monthly Exclusive item, a file folder featuring a variety of kawaii designs and items you can find on the Kawaii Box box and booklet, with the inside panel being white and pink to match the box’s color scheme. It’s kinda small-medium, about the size of the booklet that comes in each box, and it’s a little flimsy, but for most part it feels durable and sturdy.

You can buy this off of Blippo for $2.90.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I usually don’t look forward to getting these files in the boxes because as cute as they are, they’re always big and bent. This one fits in the box with no problem, so I feel like even though you would need to fold certain things into it, it’s more practical. I also like how despite how colorful and busy it looks, it doesn’t feel too-busy.

Soft Jell Rainbow Gel Pen Set

I loved gel pens growing up x3 my friends and I loved to draw on our things and each other during class (but only when we weren’t actually doing anything important <3< I wasn’t a model student but I didn’t get into trouble either), and I remember just admiring the massive rainbow collection my friend had; she must have had at least 100!

My collection was much smaller and modest though, I only had a few glittery metallic ones and a couple multicolored pastels. So for someone who used to love these, getting a whole pretty set like this just made my day~

It’s also pretty rare for us to get a whole set of anything in the boxes. If you’ve seen my prior reviews (or check out the items on blippo) its usually just one separate of your choosing. This set costs $6.90.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The colors are vibrant and really pretty, as you can see I did decorate the box with them which in hindsight might not have been the best thing to do, but they still worked once the ink got flowing. They’re juicy and are capable of long lines, writing, dots, coloring.

My only complaint is that both blues (or I suppose you could say one is indigo? Turquoise?) look almost exactly alike. It’s the same in the actual pens, but there’s still a noticeable difference until you go to use them both, so I wish they would have darkened or lightened one of them to make the difference more noticeable.

Cute Animal Friend Masking Tape & Nekoni Cherry Blossoms Badge

For our next items, I got bunnies for both ♥

First is an adorable pastel bunny washi tape that consists of a kawaii bunny doing some silly actions. I would have taken out a piece to show the design, but when I unraveled a long, long amount of it I saw no end to the pattern >3< like it kept going, there was no repeat bunnies. Each bunny was cuter, or sillier than the last.

There are several varieties you could get, and you can guy them in sets of 4 for $5.90 on Blippo.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Well besides being very cute and silly to look at, I like how this doesn’t seem to be repetitive like most tapes. I’m sure it starts repeating somewhere but for now, I just think it would be cute to use them individually as little emoji icons, like for notes or letters or something.

-----

From the brand Nekoni are these adorable pastel badges with cherry blossom designs, ranging from animals, a human girl, scenery, and adorable foods. Each badge costs $1.90.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s very cute, but there isn’t really much I can say about a badge other than the fact it seems to be fine quality. There was no problems with it or anything to complain about.

Cute Stationery Buddy

This probably would have been better suited for a school theme- but you also use stuff like this to decorate :P so, our next item is an adorable, soft but firm plush themed after various stationery items. There are 7 in total, each with a ball chain and costing $4.90.

I really hope I’m not the only person, but when I saw this (and even now) I think of a snail; it’s a roll of tape! I was so surprised initially but now that I’ve had it for a while I’ve been seeing it more.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Again, I find myself with little to say. It’s really cute though, and the quality is nice, there’s no obvious flaws or issues.

Yogurt Jelly Hair Clip Set

In comparison to stationery, we always get sets of hair clips so I’m happy about that :3 I love their kawaii hair clips and accessories, they’re usually always one of my most favorite items~

Anyway, this set is themed after yogurt jelly and features a small translucent clip attached to a clear, colorful, glittery yogurt jelly attached to it, each with labels, a colorful lid, and a tiny lotte written in the corner. These come in several cute color schemes, each set costs $2.90.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

As I’ve been saying this entire review, these are very cute. They’re also well made, in that the pieces don’t feel loose or flimsy, which has been in a problem with one or two past-sets I’ve gotten, but you can easily fix that with some good glue. I was also very happy to get a very pink set, but you couldn’t go wrong with any of them in my opinion!

DIY Fruity Doodle Pen & Flower Candy

Our last item is this cute little fruity doodle set. Technically I don’t consider this to be a DIY considering you’re just spreading gel on the gummies, but it’s very cute and I really wanted to try it. I started seeing it like a year or two ago?

It’s available on Blippo for $3.50.

As you can see, I got tons of yellow gummies, along with a single pink, and two blues. The gel is supposed to be sour, but it’s actually very light- it reminds me a lot of strawberry jello/gelatin. The gummies are individually flavored, and this is what I thought:

Yellow - might be apricot? It tastes a lot like the apricot jelly filling in the mochi I buy from the mall.

Blue - my favorite, tastes like blue raspberry.

Pink - no flavor I could pick up, just sweetness.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

As I said, I’m not sure this is entirely a DIY so I didn’t make a separate post on it. All you do is apply the jelly, which I thought actually tasted the best out of everything in the set, but it was very tasty and cute overall, I just wish the colors/flavors of the flowers were more varied.

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 5 out of 5: I’m not sure they were all my absolute favorite or anything, but I did genuinely like everything we got this month. I found no quality issues or problems, plenty of variety in both the types of items, and for each item. A very practical and fun box. Some items were fairly pricey though, and I’m not sure if I agreed with some of those. Also, we got one item less than usual, which I assume has something to do with the price?

Theme - ????? out of 5: I found this Happy Birthday theme to be extremely open and up for interpretation, so I had I’m not sure how I feel about how they did on it. On one hand I could say “yes, these are items you could use for gifts or decoration for a birthday“, but on another I’d say “sakura badges and yogurt hair clips don’t make me think of a birthday.”

Total Rank: 8.5 out of 10 Cuties. I liked the items, and I can see why they chose the theme they did, but because of how open it is, I’m not sure how my feelings are towards it. The items worked great and I would recommend mostly all of them. I’m not sure this is my favorite box though...

(I’m sorry but I ended up skipping the last part of this review, I was fine this entire time but towards the end things got really busy in the house and I’m not feeling well at the time. I would have went to lay down but my laptop has been weird lately and I didn’t want to risk losing the work T^T sorry if you were looking forward to that part.)

#kawaiibox #blippo kawaii shop #pompompurin #cute stationery #sanrio #ariel

5 notes · View notes

yuissamidare · 5 years

Text

@codes i think i may have put this on my artblog but... Here

i guess ill start w ichi bc i always forget about him somehow like i always come up short when im making lists and im like 'oh wait shit yeah that guy’ bc im stupid n i only think of fishing trio + choro. I’m an Idiot. idk i never thought too hard on ichi bc i so rarely think about him but he looks so high its really funny i said this on main but he looks like my friend when he decided to try a weed gummy bear then started babbling about hentai then watched to watch porn with me but got mad all the intro scenes are a billion years long and started ranting about the industry but now that i think about it he looks like someone who used to send me weird shit when he was high like bad pick up lines about body parts i wish i didnt have

and thats so funny that its Ichimatsu who looks like that but also proof that hes high. but anyway!! hes really cute and im mad hes boutta ruin my reputation for my complete and utter lack of care and interest in him no matter what im mad. my friend gwyn said 'Sp lubing us up for the fuckening that is the reason why Ichi is sad in present day’ im really curious at the change like if hes trying a fake it till you make it type thing bc really emotionally exhausted or if hes just genuinely having a good time or hes puttin on a front since like. nails who stand get hammered down right??? just gotta do your best n Never Relax n i can relate to all that. but uhhh old hcs i guess

in kun ichi was the most serious! really smart but just as bad w school as the rest of them apparently but!! yeah so id think that!! ichis that guy who participates in class discussion constantly and is always willing to debate the readings, but turns in sloppy papers with typos and no a coherency or stucture or anything. he’s A+ in participation but has an average of 60% on most of the written assignments with points knocked bc of lateness then more bc its A Mess. you could ask about the prompts for one of his papers, he could babble about his position on it complete with paragraphs and footnotes but like the day before its due hes playing rpgs and watching horror movies.

his classmates think hes so smart n so intimidating. the family knows hes a hot mess. the teachers tell him he has a lot of potential but they don’t think hes applying himself. all are right. also he doesnt cheat or let people cheat off of him since hes always been about rules and boundaries and Rightness n he n jyushi were the only ones who Minded Themselves in kun

uhh jyushi!! let me talk about schoolwork again bc yeah i love jyushi so so so so much and thinking of him in a school environment is so weird i thought about it a lot n i thought about it him in kun n san and Woah!! i really really love delinquent jyushi, bc when i saw that i was like 'huh! that fits actually!!’ i love that like him and choro flip flopped completely from what i thought. his school must be so cold theyre too cheap to afford heating in the winter and in summer the acs Blast. he was so Shy and quiet and he cried and he liked to sing so i always thought that when he participated in chorus festivals hes always like right in front!! he hums a lot in class and also moves around alot bc he actually like school and people like primary trio are the types that make friends often. i wasnt supposed to talk about this yet whoops.

unlike ichi who relatively neat despite everything but has shit notes, jyushis notes are amazing and understandable and utterly illegible.

theyre covered in doodles, arrows and lines leading every which way, different colors but not like color coded n theyre not in order by date, but he opens to a random page every time yet somehow always seems to know where to find each lesson. he writes footnotes and caveats and corrections and criticisms of the teachers and random thoughts and just smears ink everywhere. sometimes his notes are on a completely different subject. the notebook itself is a horrifying mess, the front and back covers both covered in drawings and designs and falling apart, random papers shoved between the pages, coming apart at the seams, covered in stains of unknown origin. assignments are full of emoticons and informal language, and they always manage to make his teachers feel like hes smarter than they are (most likely). he does his projects the minute theyre assigned, and is finished a minute later so can talk to his friends. he loved school.

sophie told me once about how she thought was Like That was bc one of his main concerns is that he thought he had nothing that made him Jyushi n in kun she said he might have been the one who was the most concerned about having a distinctive personality and i talked about how that sorta carried over san and how he always blended in bc of how gentle and soft and push-overy he was. he was actually the and most gullible and weakest in kun so i was like :0 when i saw that and intentionally did stuff like only carry 14 yen in his pockets to be quirky but it always sorta fell flat and he was still invisible so i was like hmmmmm. and i can see how he couldve toughened up and thinking of this now!! i love that. oh im so happy. this is so much better than i ever couldve imagined ever.

totty…. i do not think he was very popular or good at school. i think he’s very decent at schoolwork but he never put much effort into it. just copies whats on the board but if the class runs out of allotted lesson time n he couldnt finish his work he just didnt do it like cram schools a pain in the ass. if he put effort hed be a star student but he just craps out whatever since hes was the laziest!! oh but something i noticed was that him and jyushi would play together often since sometime he felt overwhelmed by karamatsu a lot. also hes the money thief and scammer its great kun todo is so good. he gets shy and flustered easy too!!

but uhh yeah!! depending on the day im always like 'zaimoku love each other so much they are best friends and the perfect other halves!!’ then im like 'these mofos hate each other what the fuck is this trainwreck’ did you see their shitty small talk in the horse episode. what was that. like they are genuinely trying to communicate and are pretty easy with each other but they have nothing to say. its like when youre having a boring day at school and theres nothing to talk about with an acquaintance so you just look at the walls and go 'have you ever noticed how stupid these posters are’ then you both start reading posters aloud but you both know its not that funny and youre just doing it to waste time but you still enjoy their company you just dont want silence. thats their relationship. and i think they are just very similar in very different ways and like. the key things that make them both similar and different and the same fuck them up (like suiriku!! theyre both really similar even if it doesn’t seem like it at first which is why their compatibility in the relationship chart was so low in s1, but i saw a lot of improvement in both of their behaviours and their communication and honestly. s2 was worth it for that sophie was so happy to see her faves get along) like sometimes when you look in the mirror all the things you see are the things you dont like about yourself instead of what makes you wonderful and unique. also i didnt mean to talk about this but i guess i am.

but yeah. totty is bitter n resentful at kara during hs n karas more confused and upset at tottys behaviour in their twenties n thats bc like i said. theyre dumb. karamatsu!! i think was actually pretty popular in highschool n had a good amount of friends - i genuinely think theatre kids are well liked bc i literally know everyone in my department and im friends w a good amount of people and im not even That extroverted. my actual extrovert friends know everyone in the school by name and everyone in my department is so nice even though theres a lot of bitchiness and drama its not as bad as w other humanities studies (jesus christ humanity students outside of theatre are a hot mess.)

uh yeah n that ultimately makes totty feel a bit… betrayed? karamatsu is his partner! theyre supposed to be there for eachother! kara’s the first one to branch out, get friends etc etc and todomatsus left behind bc hes always the one playimg follow the leader and he breaks out of that once they graduate - he grows up resenting karamatsu slightly though he still cares. but this time Hes the one cancelling plans to hang out with friends instead. my friend katie put it best when, in response to me telling them this, they sent me:

'kara: totty you have so many friends now. We barely see you anymore.

totty, applying chapstick: well, I learned it from the best.’

when i told them about it. but at the time gwyn and i were babbling about possibilities and different storylines and how theres a possiblity the movie might break down into three manageable plotlines n she gave zaimoku 'popularity’ and this was me throwing out ideas but honestly. Good. (aha, the end of this scenario ended up with todo throwing hands and shoulder checking someone outside a window and then getting removed from the premise n hanging with atsushi all night after) why am i on this. shit what happened here.

uhh but yeah totty is Def someone with learned behaviours rather than being a natural extrovert honestly just look at him hes an introverted mess masquerading as a decent human being and i know full well how people like that are bc some of them have been my best friends for years n seein the new hs promos solidifies that fact bc look at him. Crybaby. He is Miniscule. A Child.

then its 'delinquent who looks like an honour student’ choro. i never studied him until sophie started liking choro n since i love sophie i wanted to take an interest in him too. n i started to think very hard about him! then gwyn planted this in me n its taken root and im just never not gonna think its great. yall see his shitty gokudo impression what a bossy lil shit. he pulled a whip on kara once and it was mad funny but also Gwyns Big Evidence for him just being the absolute worst not like a casually skips class type but a Choro was a legit a bully and really mean n sabatoged other classmates to make him look like he was 100% That Bitch. maybe not him being Mean and cruel but just an asshole who bums around, is something i really like that one a lot its been one of my faves since gwyn n i started talking about it but i just!! have a ton of other things too!!

hes a lot like karamatsu in that theyre both stupid and weird and embarrassing and they put on airs but they also!! dont try!! they talk so big and such high goals n expectations and they dont do shit bc they have so much hubris but i always talk about them bc suiriku is sophies Beloved so ill like. Not. but he acts like he’s better than all of them n forces the role of the straight man on himself because he wants to be seen as the responible, level headed one even if hes just. So Much.

i think the movies calling back to how touchy feely and clingy he was in kun and adding on to how jyushis a delinquent and kara… Is Like That he’ll be around them the most bc jyushi might either be really protective or push him away and then they do something to mend their relationship later on or hell cling to kara and they just. grow apart. sticking to my hc until the end bitches. oh.

for choro… personally!! i thought hed be a slacker instead of a delinquent but not in the way totty slacked - totty was lazy n knew the work but didnt want to put in effort but choro just. Doesnt. choro has so much energy all the time and choro Can Not deal with school situations. bc like… you always hear people say that studying is meant to be done at the desk, silently, no distractions what so ever!! focus on notes and nothing else!! ise a highlighter but dont use it too much!! make your notes legible but you only have five minutes before the board gets erased!! review!!! look at your notes or youll die! take breaks bit dont take too long and honestly. listen. kun choro wouldnt be able to stand that shit and id think hed just think he was doing it The Wrong Way n he just wasnt meant to do it.

he doesnt like quiet classrooms!! he cant study like that and hell get distracted. he cant sit still n thats why totoko broke up w him in the beer ad and why hes just Everywhere in kun!! hes understimulated and its just Ugh! you know??? he’ll fidget w his pens until he breaks them or hum or tap his foot and annoy everyone or leave for the bathroom at least three times a class just to get up and move.

eventually he just. gives up even though hes super smart he like, stops caring bc if you dont care to understand material then you wont have to read and read and reread and rereread something to get it! classes just make everything uncomphrehensible and makes any idea he may have sublimate into nothing. but he can work on the trains and the buses! he needs something kenetic to get him moving and trains n shit always have enough going on to work with, just like with home!! chorochoro motherfuckers. he works much better moving forward, ironic as that is. he feels sorta set apart from every thing like hes behind some big plane of glass doing everything wrong and being all set apart from everything. eventually he takes to acting like a real fussy mom to avoid his own problems and help everyone else out even though hes annoying and even when he graduates but it gets Worse bc then figures out how much!!! he fucked up!! then he kicks himself into high gear n still cant do shit. ahh.

its illegal for me to talk about choukei bc i talk about them so much and im always being annoying n typing stupid essays about them bc theyre… my faves.. But this is so long…

it actually makes me super happy that he kara acne he still can be really fighty and he cries and he still does stupid impulsive shit for others and even though hes really sweet and caring is still an utter monster and fucking mess of a person. love him. i always like to think his shittymatsu nickname came from iyami n it just morphed from there bc in 66 you can hear iyami calling him specifically garbage. ive always been glad they kept his sewing hobby too. ahh, actually from what i see hes pretty similarities to kun so i wonder when he decided to air out that teremity. idk what to say about him that i havent in tottys section. he just Feels like someone who had a good support group and nice friends bc of how hes able to move in the world. kara feels like some whos doing their growing up in their twenties bc highschool came easy to them and now theyre just really struggling with the real world. like i shouldve expected softboy hs kara and i appreciate him very much!! i talk about choukei a lot bc they were the first characters that spoke so i immediately attached myself to them n i talk about karamatsu Specifically but im not sure i ever mentioned how much i appreciated how smart and cautious hes proved himself to be time and time again, like how hes the only one to point out totokos fish shtick aint doing her favours or how he was the first one to notice osos irritation n how you can pick out his voice warning jyushi to calm down in the bg of 24 or how in the comedian episode he was ready to take Notes from iyami and a lot of other small things!!

i would think hes actually a bit more serious n calm in hs and san is him amping up traits that drew people to him in hs and it backfiring on kara spectacularly - kara is always gauging people and their reactions and acting in a way he believes will get something positive, but at the same time is utterly oblivious when it comes to actually Getting them n i talked about the girls on the bridge but this is also prevalent with ichi who kara just. Doesnt Get and can not figure out how to maneuver their relationship. like oso, kara is and elder brother!! and elder brothers have an image theyre supposed to uphold, but while kara acts the part he doesnt do the shit a big brother does and shrugs that responsibility off on oso until oso fucks up until s2, where they share the role more evenly and his relationship with ichi improves but this is another essay entirely. what im trying to get with that is that hyperfocus on what other people think of him, but his complete disregard when it comes to their actual reaction and instead what he wants their reactions to be would also greatly impact him transtioning from a teen to an adult im sorry im getting sloppy now

osomatsu… i really adore him too much and i understand how totty felt in their episode bc i also lent my phone to a friend who needed to desperately jack it before meeting new people n i talk about him a whole lot too. hes mean and an asshole and garbage n i know a lot of people find him plain n boring but idk. i dont think thats the case hes a really complexed n nuanced character n hes literally has always been way back from kun n thats expected from a main character but… hes always been mean n dumb n sly and he can get so pathetically vunerable and thats literally!! him. hes a normal dude nothing wrong with that n it can be real refreshing. n i suppose im so fond of fishing trio+choro bc they remind me of my friends. but yeah even if hes 'plain’ i dont see why thats a bad thing. n this they always have the most interesting body language like despite kara being So Much his body language was always closed off n singled him out as everything But exuberant and bright, and osos quirks like how he stands on his toes a lot had always been so cute… its relaxed and open n screams Talk To Me!!!!

ahh but i always end up thinking oso was. oso??? theres not much to say that i havent before but i do think that he was a lot more like he was in episode 2 when ranting to chibita about having shitty brothers and then actively Chose to be a good brother even if he wasnt a good person and be a stable rock and be someone they could all come back to at the end of the day. and hes good at math im never letting this die.

#now im sleepy fmxbfbc #mbbbaf #i didnt talk about oso much im ao tired

7 notes · View notes

deducingfangirlsofhell · 6 years

Text

An Artistic Mind

Pairing: MoriartyxReader

Warnings: None, I don’t think?

A/N: Soulmate AU!! Kinda funny?

He could practically feel the strokes being created on his arm. Really, this soulmate business was a nuisance. He had to be careful about what he wrote on his skin, if the ink from his notebook would transfer over to his flesh- whether or not he caused his soulmate to hate him before they even met. And before you ask, yes. The world’s most nefarious criminal mastermind was worried about what his soulmate thought of him. Heck- he had been since he was a child.

Most people’s soulmates didn’t become set until their teens, and therefore, most kids didn’t have little pictures of stick people and abstract kittens drawn on their arms. No, it’d only been him. It was… comforting. His soulmate always seemed like such a happy and loving person, and in his darkest days, he would sit and watch the colorful doodles stretch across his skin while his father drunkenly destroyed what little he had to call ‘home’ in the background. He’d let the drawings take him far away, to a place where someone cared for him. His soulmate.

Now, he played off the drawings as that “soulmate-nonsense” to anyone who asked, and well, too. Sebastian was positive that Jim didn’t even believe he had a soulmate, that this was just a phenomena that people convinced themselves was more than it was. That was, until he witnessed Jim photographing a particular set of drawings on his arms, smiling to himself like an idiot. It was really quite telling. He wished he could stop himself, but- he couldn’t. Each work of art adorning his flesh was a reminder that, out there, somewhere, was you. With the most gorgeous handwriting he’d ever seen. Sometimes, with a very precise hand, he’d go over each letter, practicing the carefully constructed lines as if his life depended on getting them exactly right. He’d sometimes even sign off using the calligraphed letters.

The idea itself, he thought was idiotic. The idea of your skin showing up with the marks your soulmate made on themselves seemed stupider than anything else in the world. Yet, he chose to believe the pathetic rumor. But that was because it was, well… you. He didn’t exactly know who you were, but the random doodles and drawings you made was all he needed.

But that’s besides the point. The point is, you were out there. Whether he met you or not, you were out there. But that was the thing…

If you were out there, he had to be very careful what he wrote down on his skin.

“I don’t know, they haven’t written anything in a while.” You giggled at Mariah. She’d been your best friend since preschool and if there is one thing you can always remember you guys talking about, it was your soulmate.

“Oh crap—what if they’re dead?! Before you two even had a chance to meet!?” She cried, clearly horrified by the idea. It wasn’t unheard of, actually… it was tragically almost common. Then again, it was just as common for a person’s soulmate to have another person as their soulmate. Just like love could be one sided, so could a soulmate.

It wasn’t like you had to worry about that, it was proof enough that you two were each other’s when they would trace your words.

“I don’t think they are, Iah.” You said, sighing softly as you rolled your eyes. She had a way of reading too much into things, this was actually the fifth time she suggested they might be dead. She went to try and argue, when you suddenly felt the usual tingling on your wrist.

“Wait—I think they’re writing something?” In all the years you’d known you had a soulmate, never once had they written something first…

“Hold on one second—no, Mr. Crump, I’m not trying to ignore you, just let me find some paper-!” Jim was still scouring around. This wasn’t good, if he didn’t figure something out soon, he’d lose the client. And a presidential candidate who wanted to conspire outside their country wasn’t a client he was willing to lose. Without thinking, he wrote down the request on his forearm as the man was saying it.

“Yes, My men will handle it right away—yes sir, thank you.” Jim ended the call, and sighed in relief. That relief was soon replaced with an utter feeling of sickness as he looked back down at his arm. Right beneath the looming sense of doom;

“Russia dignitary + win guarantee… American election rigging… 10,000,000 quid’? What. The actual. Hell?” You stared at the words on your arm, suddenly feeling something pressing into your opposite palm, as well. Your jaw dropped, looking at the words that had appeared there…

“Shite-” Jim cursed as he looked at the imprint he’d just left on his hand from the still drying ink, '3 billion pounds for disguised explosive—nitroglycerin base.’

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Mariah asked, seeing your utter panic. The message was quickly being clouded, like they were panicking to get rid of it, but the damage had been done. You tried to stand, but your legs immediately gave out beneath you.

“I-I can’t- I can’t believe this…” It had to be some sort of nightmare… right?

#moriarty imagine #moriarty imagines #moriarty x reader #moriartyxreader #moriarty/reader #jim moriarty/reader #james moriarty/reader #jim moriarty x reader #james moriarty x reader #jim moriartyxreader #james moriartyxreader #bbc sherlock

531 notes · View notes

yoongisbbydoll · 7 years

Text

white lie, (m.)

⇢ pairing ─ kim namjoon, reader

⇢ genre ─ break up

⇢ length ─ 8,206 words

⇢ warnings ─ angst, smut

⇢ synopsis ─ You never needed him, or at least that is what you tell yourself. Especially when, spur of the moment, you abandon everything and catch a flight out of the country, leaving everything behind to find yourself.

Nearing the end of your third year of college, you found your nights were spent in the darkness of your shared apartment searching for jobs. There were weekends wasted away getting drunk on cheap wine and Smirnoff with your roommates and friends after you had all given up on combing through job websites and emails from professors. At the time, summer break had seemed like a blessing and a curse, with a new boyfriend and friends but also seemingly endless rejected applications and days passing doing absolutely nothing.

Your only wish was to get a job to last you through the summer then into your final year of college. Soon enough, you would be venturing into the real world and it was time to start preparing for that day’s arrival. You needed to plan for when you finally were forced to jump ship on childhood and swim to the shore of adulthood—which seemed miles away, out of eyesight.

But your senior year of college brought corporations reaching out to you and not the other way around. So quickly had adulthood become that much closer, and a stable cash flow was making its way into your bank account. Student loans didn’t feel like a demon perched on your shoulders each time you went to class. You were in a perfect relationship with the valedictorian of his class, Kim Namjoon, and with your one-year anniversary seemingly around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel content in the way things had played out for you after years of stress and hard work.

Your relationship was like a dream until Namjoon received an opportunity—no, the absolute best opportunity, were his words on a cold, winter night. You were a little farther than tipsy when Namjoon told you—he had fed you drinks in hopes it would cushion the news he was about to break. But, despite your buzzed headspace, you had still heard him loud and clear. Being drunk only brought out your worst side through screaming and dramatic cries, a night later spent alone in your bed with tear stains as your only companion.

Namjoon had been offered a spot in a prestige foreign exchange program where he would go to America to study his major and advance his English proficiency. He would be gone for the last semester, abroad in a foreign land filled with conventionally beautiful women and men, new opportunities and friendships. You knew he wouldn’t want to come back. America was always his end goal. This would be a stepping stone to reaching this dream of his. Namjoon would be gone with the snap of a finger before your eyes.

In the two weeks leading up to Namjoon’s departure, you avoided his calls and texts, throwing yourself into your studies. Countless days were wasted hunching over highlighters and ripped notebook pages, pen marks and the limelight of your computer and lamp. Only when the sun started to shine through your blinds would you realized that once again you had stayed up far too late trying to distract yourself. Before getting into bed, you would turn on your phone to listen to the voicemails Namjoon had left you.

They all started the same.

I miss you so much.

He would then prose questions you would never answer:

I’m leaving soon and want to see you. Why weren’t you in classes today? Are you sick? Have you been sleeping well? Do you want me to come by with that tea you like and your favorite blanket? It’s still on my bed. I’ll leave it here if you want it when I leave. Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.

Each voice mail ended with a robotic click and crackling in the speaker. Each message would be deleted. Then you would turn to your computer and submit your work, type up a half-assed excuse as to why you wouldn’t make classes that day, then turn to your bed.

But, although you had stayed awake during the night, sleep did not come to you in the morning. The sheets smelled too much like Namjoon though you proactively cleaned them.

Today you did the same.

After sitting in the soft smell of your soon-to-be-ex boyfriend for almost an hour, you stood. You glared down at your bed and quickly ripped up the bedspread and everything else. The sound of seams and thread breaking met your ears this time but you ignored it and stuffed everything into a laundry bag.

Down at the communal laundry, you would shove the bedspread into an empty washing machine and pay the cheap price. Instead of returning to your dorm to wait, you would lean opposite of the machine and watch as water sloshed in, then the soap as it bubbled it and soaked into the fabric. The white sheets would become full of the soapy water and bubbles would crawl up the glass as it spun round and round.

The constant pitter patter of the machine caused your eyes to droop, as if welcoming the familiar sounds into sleep. You could barely slide down on a bench before your eyes were finally succumbing to sleep, the soft thrumming of the laundromat surrounding you.

The machine alerting you it had finished its cycle would wake you, startling you out of colorless dreams. You would quickly shoved everything into the dryer and go on your phone until everything was warm and smelled of fabric softener—not Namjoon.

It had become routine. For thirteen days, you followed these steps as if your life depended upon it. You ignored everyone’s concerns, even your teachers worry filled emails, your roommates’ pregnant pauses as you entered and left the room and their eyes following you wherever you moved. Your bedroom became messy, paper coffee cups and snack wrappers gathering on your desk, the floor, the space between your bed and the wall. You didn’t bother cleaning. No one was coming by anytime soon, anyways.

On the day you knew Namjoon was leaving, you finally decided to kick yourself out of the harmful and depressing routine. This time, you went to bed at a reasonable time and woke up early enough to slip into something besides sweatpants. You walked into classes like a ghost and watched when your teachers’ eyes widened as you responded to roll call. In fact, everyone’s eyes had widened a bit.

But you didn’t look up to the curious eyes, bashfully turning down to your book and doodling on the corners. Eventually, classes ended, and you had received a hefty amount of makeup work and notes. Your weekend had been planned for you.

But it was a Friday and the campus was abuzz with talks of parties and alcohol and other toxic drugs to get people off. Instead of searching for an address to forget yourself at, you turned in the direction of the library and pressed yourself into the familiar atmosphere.

Throughout college, the local library had become a small safe haven and you often found yourself spending days and nights studying between its dust lined walls and rows of endless books that hadn’t been touched in years. Everything was as you remembered it, there was light airy music playing on low and the librarian called you out by name. You greeted her and she smiled kindly back before returning to her stacks of books.

You looked at the books longingly. It was easy for you to lose yourself in a good read. Each story seemed to drag you in and never let you go. A distraction. That’s what you needed.

Head hanging low, you shuffled through the library, avoiding the wandering gazes of other classmates. You made yourself a coffee, slipping an extra dollar into the small donation box and then wandering off into a distant corner.

There were only about fifteen students in the small library at most. Each was focused on their own work and you were glad that there would be no one to disturb you.

On your way to find a seat, a stray book had caught your eye. It had been laying on an abandoned table and you scooped it up. The cover was worn for a library book, but the little, stamped slip inside the cover said no one was using it currently.

You splayed your things out on the table so no one would join you and tucked yourself into the chair, crossing your legs over themselves comfortably. The book’s first few words were a bit faded but you squinted closely and began reading.

For almost two hours, your mind was wrapped up in physics and psychology, exploring the meaning of life—or mostly the fact that there is none—and evolution of man. It took a deep cough to startle you away from your work. You did not have to look up to know who was sitting in front of you. His purple hair stood out against the bland, warm colors of the library.

From what you could see, he was dressed up in a nice suit, hair slicked up off his face. “Plane lands and we go right to the campus for an interview,” Namjoon says when he notices you staring at his out-of-place attire.

You nodded and looked over at your bag, wondering what he would do if you pulled out your headphones. “Please don’t.” He begged, already way ahead of your own thoughts.

This time, you looked up.

Though he was dressed prim and proper, his eyes were bloodshot, so you pushed your cup of coffee towards him—he probably needed it more than you anyways. Namjoon brought it to his lips and took a long, exasperated gulp.

“How long is your flight?” You asked, trying to be polite.

Namjoon’s glistening eyes dropped down to the cup in his hands. “Too long.”

You smiled—or tried to smile as much as you could in that moment. “I suppose you will be bringing a book or two then? Want a suggestion?”

Namjoon had first seen you in the library. He had first kissed you between the shelves and slipped his hands down your shorts in one of the private rooms. He had quietly rocked you against his hips and the table all those times he coaxed you into his lap to help him study.

The tall shelves that lined the floors became home to inside jokes and stolen kisses. The walls were places to press each other against and skim book descriptions on. The tables in the back became a home to nights studying and taking out frustration while fucking on top of the sticky surfaces. It was a ruthless cycle of trying to pass classes and trying not to get caught with his dick in your mouth. Sex with Namjoon was heated but slow at slow at first but later it because instant and quick, something you relied on when you didn’t have anything to say. Being with Namjoon had completely changed since that first day.

But now, as he sat in front of you, eyes tired and hands shaking from what you assume was restlessness and coffee—he’d always had an unhealthy obsession with the drink—he seemed so much different. Namjoon was always composed and seeing him in such a state frightened you.

His eyes met yours and you tried to smile. This was awkward for the both of you.

“Got anything good for me?”

You thought you were reading too deep into the question but replied anyways. “Yeah, this one called Brighton Rock by Graham Greene and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré—which I’ve read more than a few times now. They should keep you occupied for the flight.”

You awkwardly tapped your pencil on your book, as if trying to will him away.

Namjoon pushed back his chair, words on the tip of his tongue. He instead nods and turns, weaving himself into the shelves you’d once lost yourself in.

Namjoon didn’t come home for graduation, didn’t call or text after leaving. But you suppose your last meeting had to have been closure enough for him so it must be enough for you too. Guilt still bit at your wrists and ankles before you finally kicked it away and straightened yourself out for finals. Test results came back and you secured your own apartment out in the city for just yourself. You adopted a cat, got a well paying job and another boyfriend. But it wasn’t enough for you.

The apartment walls were too small and the cat was too annoying when you were trying to work. Even work was boring as hell and you always seemed to behind on something. It felt as if you had lost yourself, college hadn’t helped you chose a career and you still searched for better paying and most interesting jobs. Anything seemed better than the job you currently had, but it was the only one that paid you enough to afford an apartment in the city.

In the late spring, one year after you finished college, you quit your job. Walked right out in the middle of a corporate meeting with all those important people who made a real difference in the workplace.

The meeting had been boring, and you could barely see the notes you had been taking over the drowsiness eating away at your vision. Suddenly, the man standing at the front of the room had said your name, startling you out of your haze. When you looked up, he was glaring at you. You’d gotten this look from teachers and parents your entire life. But now, as a adult, it snapped in you. Your seat fell over in your rush to leave the room, sprinting down the halls, down the stairs until you reached the cool air outside.

People glared at you as you weaved quickly through the crowds but you didn’t care, letting your feet take you back to your apartment. When you finally made it there, you started roughly packing a small bag. You shot your boyfriend a text, telling him that things just weren’t working out on your end. You threw whatever you thought was most important to you in that bag and ran out the door.

At the airport everyone gave you side eyes, wondering what you were doing looking like a hot mess, hair mused, clothes crumpled. But you were in a completely different headspace, you didn’t give a single fuck about what these people who didn’t know you thought. You bought the earliest flight out of the country and rushed through security as if your life depended on it.

When you passed through the gates and gave the flight attendant your ticket, you didn’t turn back. Partially because you didn’t want to but also because you couldn’t or you might have stayed.

The flight you booked, which you had barely bothered to look at, was to France. Where specifically, you did not know, the city’s name lost in the confines of your head. But you did not stay lost, after midnight trysts with men whose names you forget now, you needed to move on. The world was waiting for you and you couldn’t bring yourself to stay in one place for more than a few weeks. Each new country was right in front of your fingers, new faces and foods you had never heard of. You dined in the fanciest to the most run-down restaurants. You captivated the people with your accent and giggles when you tried to speak their mother tongue.

You learned new languages, picking up on the most basic of things to get yourself by. It was fun not knowing though, listening to natives rapidly fire out different words in their own tongues while you sat, fascinated eyes wide. More people had shown you a good time than the people in your own country and home time and it felt nice to have the attention finally on you. Never on someone else or lingering on another body.

Men and women alike lured you into their traps, holding you to the country. In each place, you’d met more than a dozen but only one mattered in each place you ventured.

In France, it had been Ulrich. A chain smoker and heavy alcoholic, a man who swore like the sailors do, but someone with so much love an f care he didn’t know what to do with. Ulrich had been the first of many to capture your heart and mind—with nothing more than a single glance across the bar and a tug on his lips. He taught you to slow dance like the rich do in the middle of his rooftop apartment. You had spent the afternoon pushing all the furniture to the sides of the room then wrapped in each other’s arms, glass balcony doors opened, billowing white drapes hiding the outside from your view.

Ulrich’s lips were like bitter coffee that stung your own and left you craving for more. His hair was the darkest of chocolates, and eyes the color of your mother’s. In the mornings, he would let you sleep in, only waking you when the sun had begun to fall over the opposite side of the sky and the bright blues turned orange and violet and fluorescent yellow. In the afternoons, Ulrich would treat you to the streets and delights of Paris, kissing udder the Eiffel like a pair of stereotypical actors in a movie. In the nights, he would lead his kisses down the column of your neck, softly laying you into his bed. As the sun rose he would meet you out on his balcony, sprinkling hickies down your neck and shoulder, prickling goosebumps rising from your skin. He would bathe you in the dewy morning light before going to sleep with you.

But he was only an affair, much as they all were. The only time you felt you could leave him was in the night when he was fast asleep against your back. So that when he woke and walked out onto that balcony expecting to find you, Ulrich could watch the morning sun rise and think of you—think of you as you had been and as you were going to be. All he was left was an empty promise of We’ll meet again on a flimsy post-it note, stuck to the glass door of his balcony.

In Australia, you wound yourself tight into the thick accents and nights spent drunk at bars off of thick beer. Woman and men of all sorts tried to pull you in but left you high and dry when the morning rolled around, they would only faintly remember you when the sun shone through and work called their names. So you gave up on the pubs and turned to the ocean, spending hours on the sand, basking in the warmth and letting the sand stick to your damp skin.

It was midday, the tide having already come in when you spotted them. Marx and his sister Mickey had been jogging into the water, surfboards tucked underneath their tanned arms.

For the day, you watched them ride the waves as if they had been born to. Their bodies knew the water like an old friend, and when they fell into it, it enveloped them and stuck to their skin and hair, unwilling to let them go. You watched them until the sun set and the ocean became dark and monstrous, waves crashing louder and stronger than they had before. They made their giddy way across the sand and spotted you, smiling and dripping wet, sunburn coloring your cheeks. After explaining your situation, they took you in graciously as if you were their own. You fit yourself into the middle cushion of their couch and fit yourself snug into their lives as well.

Marx had given you pleasure, always tugging you back to bed whenever you tried to escape. He beckoned you with curly blonde hair and bitten cherry lips and tan skin. As soon as you looked back at him calling you back by your name, you would melt into his arms and sigh into the crook of his neck about how much you hated him. In his arms was by far your favorite place in Australia.

But Mickey, young, innocent, Mickey. She gave you a different kind of friendship you had never had before. You became her teller of secrets, gossiping over traveling and relationships, talking about boys and your personal meanings to life. You argued over your beliefs and goals and gave each other advice on hundreds of different things.

It was nearing the height of the summer, sweat a constant in the humidity, when you decided to pack your bags, only, this time, you left with something else besides an empty heart yearning for more adventures. Mickey had followed you to Hawaii.

The islands of Hawaii were much more than you expected. In Australia, Marx and Mickey had taught you how to surf—though badly—so when you pushed yourself out into the water with Mickey just a step behind, you were not thinking of the men or the drinks. All you could see was the clear water and the thousands of fish swimming beneath, coals lively and swaying like a breeze was running through their colorful bodies.

You stayed on the main island for almost two weeks before planning to pack your bags, but unlike you, Mickey had found herself a partner and you left her behind. Onto better things.

This brought you to Kahoni. He was going on vacation to get away from his parents and visit relatives that lived on the island for the summer. There you were, getting off the plane just as you were, in a natural state of happiness and euphoria. The both of you looked like complete messes, your tan finally settling into your skin, sun burn on your shoulders and high points of your face, but he was no better, his shirt stained and hair pushed in every direction. You turned to each other and smiled, as if already knowing that your stories were somehow intertwined.

When you jumped into his cab at the last second, not going to let the moment slip away, Kahoni changed his mind and asked the driver to turn the other way—towards the beach.

Kahoni showed you even more beautiful beaches and people and food. Letting you in on native secrets and taking you out for midnight fucks on the beach when the moon sparkled against the calm ocean took your breath away. He explored your daring side, fingering you in cabs and under the table in small restaurants where you could almost hear the person beside you breathing. He was exciting and intoxicating, always taking care of you and making sure you finished first, adoring it when you dug your nails into his obsidian hair and tugged on it when he fucked you, endless brow eyes drowning in yours. He would hold the door for you, buy you food and clothing fit of the Hawaiian heat and tied your shoes whenever they came undone in public.

Though you were his for the summer, he was not yours. Kahoni didn’t mind that you would go out on your own, venturing back when the sun was rising. He’d wake slightly when you climbed into bed next to him, but he’d never say a thing, only opening his arms to allow you to get closer. His only condition to the whole ordeal was that you come back to him one last night before you leave. On that fateful last day, you both booked flights out of the country and sloppily kissed goodbye at the flight gates and headed your separate ways.

As fall began to get beneath your skin, you had wound your way up to Alaska and Canada. The clothes you had packed and bought in the beginning were not fit for harsh winds, snow, and the cold. All your shoes were open-toed and you only brought along one pair of leggings. But, when you stopped at an outlet to go shopping for more weather appropriate clothes, you met Dean. He was a simple retail worker with silver hair and a good taste in music and lingerie.

Dean threw himself at you, knowing that you were what he needed to escape from his boring, small town life. So you equally threw yourself into his life, pulling him into your warmth for safe keeping. Not even a week later of crashing on his couch—really his bed—he was buying you gifts. Leaving prettily wrapped treasures around his underground apartment. Coats, wallets, purses—all things you would have to leave behind.

But, out of all of the things he had given you, a black silk nightie was your favorite. You had worn it for most of your stay in the cold climate of Canada. The only time you took it off was if you were fucking Dean or cleaning it.

Dean had what you found to be an extremely high sex drive, ravishing you on every surface of his apartment at any time of the day he wanted. You had fucked on almost every piece of furniture in a little bit over a week. The bed, the couch, the kitchen counter, against the windows, in his car, even on top of the grand piano he inherited from his mother and shoved into the corner of his living room—which had been untouched before you.

You were with him for three weeks before you packed up the silk piece—the only thing you would ever take away from Kieran besides yourself—and went on your way. You once again left in the middle of the night, the only thing hinting your absence was a sticky note you plastered to his fridge reading I’ll miss you in messy hand writing.

Hawaii had been enough for you, so instead of sauntering around the fifty states, you flew down to Mexico. Winter had also just begun and you didn’t think you could handle anything colder than what was in your heart.

There had been no one special for you in Mexico, but instead of losing yourself in the tall, dark men, you found yourself lain with the beautiful women. You had never been one for such a thing but when someone whispered Live a little, baby, you didn’t stop yourself like all those other times. You were enraptured by thick, silky black hair and chocolate eyes, heartwarming giggles and screams of your name.

You found yourself staying in Mexico for almost two months, riding out the rest of the winter in the heat of its beautiful country and enthralling clubs. The bars never closed and people stayed up all hours of the night, fucking and kissing and drinking and doing whatever the fuck they wanted because they could.

But there was still no one special that could keep you there one more night—besides maybe the deliciously spicy food—so you moved on with a longing kiss goodbye from some a woman you barely knew.

Although the South Americas were alike to Mexico, they were completely their own. The culture of both places thrived and lived within each person you had met. But in Brazil, the parties were greater than you had ever experienced. They were loud, rambunctious, and exactly what you had been searching for. Everyone was interested and captured by your presence, each wanting a taste of the foreigner.

But you never gave into them, already having been captured by a man named Caio. He was tall, looming over you at six feet and nine inches. He was broad and went to the gym every day. In his arms you felt protected and secure, indifferent to those around you as you had found a tall, dark haired, mysterious man for your own.

Although someone who looked like him could have been paid to be on television, he was a chef. It was what kept you turning around at the door each time—aside from his strong grip. The smell of heavenly food wafting from the kitchen kept you always hungry and yearning for more. He treated you to the delicacies of his native area as well as his own interests.

He brought you on hikes up mountains and through busy streets, tugging you along like a happy child, explaining the rich history of the cities and country. He even ventured so far as to take you to the statue of Christ the Redeemer, pressing a kiss to your cheek as a stranger snapped a picture of the two of you in front of it.

Being with Caio made you gain and lose so much weight you were going crazy. He would feed you then take you on longs walks or entice you into going into the gym with him. But you needed a break and so did he. The restaurant he worked at was asking to work dinners as well as breakfast and being the free heart you, wanted to be free as well. He drove you to the airport, helping you with your luggage, paying for your plane ticket, then slapping your ass as you walked away.

Just like in Southern America, you had become enchanted by the lavish culture of Africa. All the people were kind as well and you always felt like all your needs had been catered to the fullest and then more. In Africa, you became friends with a street artist. He had been painting you as you sat and watched people in a park, taking a break from your constantly moving lifestyle to sit back and appreciate life at its simplest. When you noticed him, he smiled—wide and gummy. You patted the free space next to you on the bench and he jogged across the park to meet you. He immediately introduced himself as Jai.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Jai showed you the culture that sprung from every corner and crevice and doorstep and you in turn became the centerpiece for many of his beautiful illustrations and paintings and sketches, your curves and edges drawn out in bright colors and dark charcoal. Some days, you would spend time watching him paint in his top floor suite that overlooked the Lagos in Nigeria; others, you would lay on the couch as he sketched out your naked body on a rough piece of parchment. Then, the two of you would go out into the city and talk for hours, mouths spewing information about the people you’ve met and the paces you’ve been and the things you’ve experienced.

You found yourself on a sex and alcohol strike with Jai, instead of going out for drinks, you sat with locals at mom-owned restaurants and talked about the differences of your homes and they taught you their native languages.

You stayed with Jai the longest of all, two months passing by quickly in the presence of someone you would come to call the most unique and kind-hearted person you’ve ever met. Jai was your best friend by the end of your time spent together. He had always longed of seeing places besides his own home country, always eating up your stories of midnight rendezvous and the different people and cities and landscapes. You were like a good book he never wanted to put down.

You offered to take him with you on your next venture to Russia and China but he refused, staying behind and wishing you well. You took down his address and promised to write if you could. He would try sending you a few letters later but you would never respond. It would be too hard to relive those memories without longing to go back.

You were only in Russia and China when you decided that you had depleted your bank account enough and experienced so much that you thought it time you finally returned home. You didn’t want to but you found yourself on a flight home, angry at the prospect of having to go back to dull routine and monotonous work. You had been gone for a year, age and new experiences nipping at your body, begging you to continue your journey. But you forcefully ignored the thoughts and took a cab back home.

The apartment was cold when you first stepped into it and your cat curled herself around your leg, meowing loudly, tail swinging around your ankles. Mail and reminders of taxes and papers reminding you of actual adult responsibilities loitered the table beside your front door. But you ignored those, scooped up your cat and fell into the warmth of your bed. Being an adult could wait another day.

The next morning, you rolled over at one in the afternoon, rubbing your tired eyes. You wanted to go back to sleep but responsibility ate away at you and dragged you out of bed, puppeteering you like a marionet around your apartment.

You read the notes left by your mother who had agreed to take care of your animal as you rushed out of the country on a whim. Your sweet mother had faithfully written out a letter each week she came over explaining things you had missed and you slowly took in everything she wrote on those pages. In one of the letters, you took note of your mom mentioning a man who was standing in front of your door one day she came by but left when she approached. She talked about how your cat had needed a vaccination and she took care of the vet bill for you. After putting your favorite letters in a drawer you turned to the tabe beside your front door covered in mail.

Your mother had said she looked through it and got rid of unimportant things but there was so many letters. You felt too hungry to take them on, on an empty stomach so you ordered for food delivery and started tackling the pile.

It would be a week before you managed to come out of your apartment—thank God for delivery and your mother bringing you food whenever you needed it. You filed all your taxes and caught up on all your bills and such. You even sent out a dozen applications for jobs that you thought you would enjoy. Thankfully, one company had replied within twenty-four hours, asking for an interview so they could go over your resume. It brought you into the heart of the city, a place you hadn’t been in over a year.

Despite being gone for over a year making your way across the globe and discovering yourself, life was granting you some peace and ease, giving you a job and letting you be financially stable despite all the money spent in foreign countries.

But of course, it’s not that easy and life decided to throw you a curve ball.

The early morning rush keeps you packed tight into the crowd, shoulders pressed together, head down as you try to make your way to work. But of course, with your luck, someone pushing against the crowd runs directly into you, of all people. You’re completely stunned and pissed off, completely bewildered at the disrespect some people possess. “Are you fucking—”

When you finally looked up at the person from the ground, you weren’t expecting to see a familiar face. Namjoon was grimacing, rubbing his wrist. Just like you had, he began angrily spewing off swears, but he finally looked down and saw you and it all faded away.

It takes Namjoon a second to register your face through your new haircut and color, but as soon as he realizes who he’s looking at, his expression turns from angry to confused. “What are you doing here and why did you run into me?” He accuses.

You push yourself up off the ground seeing as Namjoon clearly isn’t going to help you. “I think it’s you who ran into me.” You state mater-of-factually, dusting yourself off in annoyance.

You never expected that seeing him would bring such annoyance and anger.

The crowd walks around you, creating a wall on each side, making you feel like it’s just the two of you. “No, I—”

You cut Namjoon off, raising your hand to his face, “Listen, you were walking against the majority, take another route next time.”

He looks down at you dumbfounded. When you had been together, you would never say anything so snippy towards him, every word had been airy and light. But after a moment, he realizes that you grew up, much like he had. Things had changed in the long two years apart and he couldn’t expect things to be the way they had been.

“Look, I’d love to stay and chat but I have an actual job to get to.” You roll your eyes and walk away, your shoulder brushing his as you pass by.

When your shoulder brushes his, something snaps in him. In the time he was away, Namjoon had become sick of you pushing him away and ignoring his calls. Now, he just wanted closure as the last time you saw him you had been as fake as a Barbie doll. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he only wanted to fulfill his own dreams—he didn’t plan on leaving you behind either. Why couldn’t you just understand that and stop being a self-absorbed bitch?

Namjoon spins around to catch our wrist, but instead you’re already lost in the hundreds of people walking up the street and he has caught the hand of an old man, holding onto the stranger like his life depends on it. Namjoon apologizes and stalks off, making his way through the crowd once again.

You had never been a great cook, meaning that almost three nights a week, your mother would have to come over with leftovers so that you didn’t starve or waste all your money on take out. So, of course, when you hear a knock at the door, you rush over at the prospect of your mom’s home cooking.

Hastily, you hop off the couch and skid along the tile floors to the door, ready to devour whatever dish your mom has brought you today. “Mom, perfect timing.”

The world really is against you, isn’t it? Your mom isn’t standing there with food in a saran wrapped plate, instead, in her place is Namjoon, staring at you with scrunched brows and lips pressed to a thing line.

Namjoon pushes himself into your apartment, not saying anything until he’s standing in the middle of your kitchen. He grips the edge of your marble counter, knuckles white in frustration. “What. The. Fuck." He grits.

“How the fuck did you know where I live?” You seethe. Who the fuck does Namjoon think he is? Showing up to your apartment after two years and forcing his way in without saying anything.

Right now, you’ are just as angry as Namjoon and if you weren’t raised the way you were, you would be smacking him unconscious and then calling the police. “Do you not know what the internet is?” Namjoon laughs obnoxiously.

You stand with a blank face and Namjoon smirks as if saying I’m-so-much-smarter-than-you-ha-ha-ha. “Why can’t you just fucking let this go?” You ask after a pause, throwing up your arms in frustration. “I got over you a long time ago and I think you need to do the same.”

“If you’re over me, then why can I do this?”

Namjoon is in front of you before you can take another breath, his lips coming down on you like a waterfall. He pulls you into him from the waist like you’re the cure to his homesickness, and he drinks you up like an alcoholic returning to his poison. Your anger melts off you slowly and you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you trying to make up for all the lost time.

His lips fit in yours like a puzzle piece and you can’t help but think that this is what you had been searching for all this time. All those countries and all those men and women had never been made for you in the way that Namjoon was.

When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry.” He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose and you close your eyes, leaning into the touch. “Can I kiss you?”

Namjoon had always asked you before kissing you, no matter what. It had become a quirk you were so used to and accustomed to that you almost forgot how special it made you feel. In the year you had been together, Namjoon had never not asked for your permission. When you once asked why he did it , he said that it was because he didn’t want to force you into an uncomfortable situation and he didn’t want to pressure you.

“Yes.” You breathe, tilting your head to capture his lips in yours.

His tongue dampens your bottom your lip and you slacken your jaw to allow him in. It’s breathless, sloppy, and full of the lust you’d been yearning for in the last year. Even after so long, Namjoon knows your body like his own and he grips you in just the right places to have you arching your back into him and moaning into his touch.

He pulls away again and the two of you are breathing heavy with bitten red lips and goofy smiles, staring into each other’s eyes passionately. Your hand slips down into his and you lock your fingers together tightly; he brings your hand up to his lips and peppers kisses against your knuckles.

You drag him to your bedroom and fall onto the mattress with an airy laugh. Namjoon kneels at the edge of the bed, placing himself between your spread legs. He runs his cold hand up the inside of your thigh, eliciting goosebumps up your legs as he pulls off your shorts, placing kisses where your skin is now bare.

Namjoon steadies his hands on your hips, massaging the skin carefully while leaving wet, open mouthed kisses along your pelvis. “Can I?” Namjoon asks, lips inches away from pantie line, tongue gliding over the bite marks he imprinted on your skin.

“Please.” You helplessly breathe, threading your fingers through his hair, trying to tug him closer to where you needed and missed him the most.

Within seconds, the thin fabric of your undergarments is thrown to the other side of the room and Namjoon’s cold fingers circles your clit. He’s careful to wind you up slowly, the pleasure bubbling up calmly so he can take his time with you and adore you in all the ways you deserve. It’s hard to keep your legs spread open for him, your instinct being to wrap your thighs around his head and suffocate him in your heat.

Namjoon makes a V with his fingers and slides them up your heat, trapping your slit in between his ring covered digits. With a moan, you arch your back into the cool feeling of the steel rings and his cold fingers against your sex. Namjoon pulls away but repeats his action again, holding your waist down with his other hand as your hips rock into the sensation. Your body is already shivering under him and Namjoon can’t help but feel cocky that you’re so quickly unraveled by a few simple strokes.

He dips his head, grabbing your legs to pull you closer to him so he can lay his tongue flat against your heat. His tongue delves between your slit and you grip his hair even tighter, biting down on your bottom lip to hold back your groggy moans. But the breath in your lungs is stolen away when he swirls his tongue around your clit and takes it between his full lips.

Electricity sizzles through your abdomen and you scream his name, so foreign yet so familiar on your lips. Namjoon smiles against your cunt and massages the inside of your thighs softly as he takes your clit between his lips again, sucking on the sensitive bundle.

You rock yourself against his face shamelessly, soaking up the pleasure and electrifying it as his tongue dances deceitfully against you. You need him, had always needed him, and the knots in your stomach and the anxiety you had ignored for so long were dissipating under him, slithering away with a sad smile.

Namjoon lets you ride out your orgasm against him, thumb pressing circles into your clit, tongue dancing around your dripping cunt. You breathe heavily as your orgasm dies down and Namjoon pulls away, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“Let me make love to you,” Namjoon smiles and presses a kiss against the damp skin of your neck. You nod and run your nails lightly down his back, lifting your leg as he pushes his pants down and presses his tip to your entrance. Namjoon hovers over you for a moment, eyes nervous. “Do you remember our safe word?”

You nod and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling you closer to you. Namjoon slides into you naturally and your walls stretch deliciously around him. He bites down on his bottom lips, screwing his eyes shut at the feeling of you around him again. Namjoon takes a moment to gather himself, taking deep breathes and laying his head on your shoulder.

When you begin to tighten around him, he mewls like a kicked puppy, hips jerking. “Namjoon.” You breathe in his hair, pressing kisses into his temple as you run your hand up back. He shakes his head but finally starts to move, pulling himself back before thrusting into you.

His hard cock presses into the heat of your tight cunt and every time he pulls out the erotic sound of your two bodies joining together meets your ears. Namjoon angles himself into you in a way he knows oh so well, so when he snaps his hips to meet yours, his cock slides over that special bundle of nerves with each thrust. He sets a pace of long, slow thrusts. Each one sends waves of heat over your already scorching muscles. You feel spent from your first orgasm but a second one rising out of nothing, urging you to spread your legs farther and tighten even more around him.

You close your eyes and give into the feeling of him inside of you, nothing like the men before him. He knows your body so well, is always knows exactly where to be and when. He knows the places that make you scream his name and dig your nails into his back like he’s asking for it—and he pretty much is.

But, he surprises you when his finger starts to swirl around your clit again. Your thighs shake from the pressure building in your stomach and you don’t know how much longer you can hang onto this very thin thread he has you hanging from. You pull Namjoon closer and press your lips messily against his.

You bite down on his bottom lip and curl your tongue into his mouth. But it proves too hard to keep yourself together as his thrusts become harder and more urgent. You lean your head back into the mattress and let the pleasure wash over you, cleansing you like a baptism.

Arched off the sheets, legs locking Namjoon against your chest, lips parted. A cry grows in your chest, traveling up to spill over the tip of your tongue and leave your trembling lips. Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

He snaps his hips and finishes inside of you, locking your lips in his to hold back the animalistic grunts rumbling from his chest. Namjoon grips your hips with both hands as you pulse around him, grabbing him from reality and dragging him ever so much closer to you.

In space and time, there is a place for you. Namjoon knows this now. Though it may not work out later, he knows, really knows that no one will ever replace the space you take up in his world. It’s a god damned big space but as long as, in this moment, with you crying out his name with euphoria dripping off your tongue like a symphony, if he stays just for a moment, it won’t matter in the end. It won’t matter because this is love. This is the ring on the finger and the deal breaker all in one.

The end of your third year out of college brought nights spent wondering who you were, but also knowing that being tucked between the wall and his chest like this would be enough. Nights were spent up late working and sipping expensive wine on your couch while reruns of shows you’ve already watched play in the background. Summer had been a blessing and a curse, with a new husband and a baby on the way, you knew everything would turn out alright in the end.

note : inspired by the songs “Hotline Bling” by Drake and “White Lie” by Jhameel. this turned out longer than i expected but happy birthday, namjoon!

Thank you for reading! Find more from me, July, here.

143 notes · View notes

warmau · 7 years

Note

would it be okay for you to do a college au for lee daehwi please? ;3; your college au's are always so amazing and I love reading them!

major: psychology

clubs: book club, part of student government as treasurer

is that kind of student. the one who does their homework three days in advance, teachers are the ones emailing him about recommendations, tutors others in english, and still manages to look very handsome doing so

even though it’s only his first year in college,,,,,,like,,,,,,,,,How

daehwi claims he has a “system” but when people ask him what it is he just winks and is like ;) a magician never gives away his secret!~

(cheesy, but we love it)

he initially wanted to go into the literary department, but something about psychology really fits his personality. he kind of likes to over analyze and make predictions

which he claims is NOT the case

but his best friend somi was like “daehwi on our first day you literally introduced yourself to that kid daniel and went “from your handshake i can safely assume you’re in the emt field” and now daniel is convinced you can read minds.”

but daehwi is like please! that’s not over analyzing-

youngmin: you told me i had a complex about my hair after i told you my favorite color

daehwi:,,,,,,,,,,but youngmin it has to do with the fact that people who like green tend to-

somi: you’re doing it again

but daehwi,,,,,is just a sunflower,,,,,a positive hardworking boy who sometimes comes off a little demanding but he’s,,,,not he’s just trying to help

lots of people have already resorted to being mean about him because of their own jealousy but daehwi does his best to push it away,,,,even to the point where he always apologizes in class if he talks too much or seems like he’s looking for attention

and somi is always like don’t do that bro but daehwi,,,,as collected and cool as he looks walking through the campus with his psych textbook in hand and a cup of coffee in the other

daehwi is just as nervous and scared about being unliked like everyone else,,,,,

which is why you really like him

see if daehwi is the clean-cut, proper student then you’re the opposite,,,,the type to sit with your legs up on the desk, doodle on your homework, maybe not even show up

and you have psych 43 with him,,,,human emotion and,,,,the teacher is always droning on and on about the reading and the only person who ever talks is daehwi

who seems so damn bright in a class that is so damn boring

and you’ve heard the way people sneer under their breath when he brings up a point, the eye rolling, the ‘whats the point of taking this class if all we hear is that brat talking?’

but you’ve also seen daehwi grit his teeth, keep raising his hand, and completely strive to do the best even in a room full of negativity

and sure,,,,,you’re not the straight a, study in your free time kind of person daehwi is friends with but you like people that fight for themselves

and one day as daehwi is explaining something you hear someone make a joke calling him something rude and it’s annoying you so you suddenly stand up

causing daehwi to freeze mid-sentence and the teacher to raise an eyebrow

and you point to the person and you’re like “wanna say that louder, i heard your friend laugh and i want to laugh too.”

the teacher is motioning lazily for you to sit down,,,,but tbh it doesnt really look like he cares all that much and daehwi is like “it’s ok -”

but you’re like “c’mon say it. i wanna hear it. make me laugh.”

and the person looks terrified,,,,because you’ve never been known to take things with a grain of salt and you’re crossing your arms waiting

and the teacher is like “this isn’t high school, sit down-”

and you’re like “uhuh i will, but you-” you point at the person now cowering in their seat “ill see you after this lecture. i wanna hear that joke up close and personal.”

the teacher just mumbles for everyone to calm down and when you sit back you smirk to yourself knowing god damn well that person will bolt the minute class is over

but you also feel daehwi scoot over and he’s like “hey,,,,i don’t usually whisper in class but you shouldn’t fight anyone!!! college expel people for that-”

and ur like “don’t worry there’s not going to be a fight that coward wont wait for me anyway”

and you look to the side to see daehwi’s obviously concerned expression,,,,,,and ok what - why is he so freaking cute????

quickly you look back toward the front where the teacher is pointing to something haphazardly on the board

but you feel it,,,,,your heart beat,,,,,,your stomach doing flips,,,,,

and with one peek to the side you see it again,,,,,,,,,daehwi’s,,,,,,,,cute,,,,,,cute cute cute,,,,,face

as expected with class over you see the stampede of kids run out and the first person infront is that guy you called out

and you chuckle to yourself until you suddenly feel someone’s trembling hand on your shoulder

and you turn and daehwi is there,,,,,,that face of his flushed pink,,,,,and he’s like “i,,,,,know he was joking about me,,,,,,yo-you didn’t have to stand up for me-”

but you’re like “no, i did. daehwi you’re too good for most of the people here. for me especially, but also for those scumbags who try to make you feel bad about being smart. sometimes though, you need to say something so they’ll shut up.”

with that you sling your bag over your shoulder and you turn again to leave

but daehwi’s voice reaches you again and he’s like “im not,,,,,too good for anyone. but most of all,,,,im not too good for you.”

like for a moment you’re confused what does that mean-

but then you see daehwi rush over to stand in front of you and that pink flush has gone fULL on red

and he’s fiddling with his fingers but he’s also like !!!!! i,,,think you’re amazing and ,,,,, i wish you’d pay attention more in class because i can tell you’re very smart and i just,,,,,,,,l-like—-lik—–aPPRECIATE who you are,,,,,,a lot,,,,,,,,and-”

you feel a smile tug at your lips because,,,,oh,,,,is daehwi,,,,,trying to confess something?? but at the same time you’re like thank u,,,,for thinking im capable of more,,,,,,,,,but also,,,,,daehwi

and he’s shaking a bit with embarrassment but he’s like y-yes

and you step closer to push some hair from his eyes and you’re like “i like you too ^^ or appreciate if thats what you smart kids say.”

and daehwi is like RGOJFDLgiefd REALLY but also he’s like,,,,,,,,i m-meant it in a romanti-romantic way

and ur like yes i know baby

and he’s like baby???!??????? and ur like,,,,oops sorry ur just so cute i had the urge to call you that~~

and daehwi is like gijkl i knew u were straightforward,,,,and confident,,,,but ur also,,,,,,flirty,,,

and ur like hey hey don’t over analyze this rn mister and he’s like !!!! right!!!!!

but it’s cute because you never would have expected the sweet, dedicated student to fall for you,,,,,,,,,,(especially since ur pretty sure uve slept through ur class with daehwi like 10 times)

but apparently daehwi is fascinated and when you reach out to hold his hand u think he might be overheating but ur not 100% sure

college boyfriend!daehwi is,,,,,,amazing. mostly because he really likes sappy things even if he tries to hide it at first,,,,like he likes candles and flowers and romcoms,,,,,,tried to watch a horror movie with you but ended up curled in your lap asking if it was over,,,,,is too shy to come over to your dorm ever which is like so angelic and pure of him he’s always like we should meet up somewhere comfortable like a cafe!! ooo what about the library??? even better,,,,study hall?? like what a nerd but also what a sweet human being???, but he also has a fun side too sometimes daehwi will say something about someone that’s so blatantly savage but he thinks he’s being like observational and you have to put a hand over his mouth before you burst out laughing, makes handmade cards for every holiday, tries to recopy and organize your notes for you but you’re like letsssss cudddllllleee insteeeadd and for a good amount of time he can resist your charm but at some point he melts too, but you melt more than he does because daehwi is soooo good at being obliviously adorable that it hurts, when he’s concentrating and cutely making “aha!” sounds when he solve a problem to sleepily asking you to pet his head, isn’t big on pda but got super giddy over the idea of having matching phone cases, totally made you his phone wallpaper, his phone background, has a photo of you two on his nightstand, sometimes learns corny pick up lines from jisung but is too smart to actually try them out (unless he really wants your attention then you get a text thats like did it hurt when you fell from heaven and ur like ,,,,,,,,daehwi ??? do you have a cold??), refuses to admit he’s sick when he’s sick you have to practically drag him by the ear to the uni nurse, likes knowing you’re thinking of him especially when you two get a moment of alone time and you kiss him and mumble that you wanted to see him really badly and he still gets all shy and squirmy about it but on the inside he is DYING of HAPPINESS, thinks stuffed animals are cute so you guys got couple ones (you almost physically fought samuel when he said that was corny), stays up to study but still manages to have better hair than you and it drives you nuts like hOW, sent you a recording of him reading his notes from that class you have together and it was so smooth and nice you fell asleep to it LOL, wears soft cardigans that you always want to steal but daehwi is like we can just go buy you one?????, you hold daehwi’s face and tell him he deserves the world whenever someone says something dumb or he feels down, somi loves you guys and keeps telling everyone on campus that you and daehwi are set to marry soon, does this cute thing where when he has a surprise for you he can’t help but jump around and get all excited which lets u know he’s hiding something up his sleeve tBH he’s kinda easy to read, has an amazing singing voice that you didn’t know about until he actually wrote you a song for your birthday about how he loves you like a lot and you practically threw yourself into his arms and he laughed against your neck but seriously daehwi is so perfect you never understand how you got sOOOOO lucky (he says the same thing about you tho hehe)

find others here: ong seongwoo | kang daniel

#produce 101 scenarios #daehwi scenarios #daehwi au #daehwi imagines #daehwi #produce 101 season 2 #wanna-one #wanna one scenarios #wanna one au #sfw #produce 101 seaons 2 #wanna-one scenarios #again no idea what to tag

610 notes · View notes

foundcarcosa · 6 years

Text

ccxxv.

What kind of makeup do you think is appropriate for church? >> The kind that makes one the most comfortable to wear.

What would you wear to church? >> I wear anything I want to church. None of my clothes are blatantly inappropriate church attire except for a couple of band shirts.

Would/Do you like having brown eyes? >> Having brown eyes is fine with me.

Do you spend a lot of time on the internet? >> I sure do.

Could you live without the internet? >> I’d survive, I’m sure, but internet access enriches my life in ways that I find indispensable. I would be loath to give that up.

Have you bought anyone a Christmas gift? >> I bought three people Christmas gifts, and about ten people got cards.

Do you have a Christmas tree in your house now? >> Yes.

How do you feel when someone hates on Apple? >> Understanding.

Do you have an Iphone? If so, which one? >> I don’t.

Favorite flavor of jello? >> I like cherry.

I see. Do you have long toes? >> Not any longer than anyone else’s, I don’t think.

What’s something someone said to you that bothered you? >> I can’t remember anything off the top of my head.

What is one of your favorite compliments to receive? >> Anything regarding my fiction.

Do you compliment other random people? >> Occasionally.

Could you see yourself buying a truck as your go to vehicle? >> I could see that, yes.

What kind of car do you want? Something less than $100,000. >> A Tesla Model 3.

What kind of gift would you appreciate for your birthday? >> I’d appreciate being given a gift, period. Books are nice, if we must be specific.

Can you type fast? >> Sure.

Can you type without looking at the letters? >> Yes.

Did you take typing classes? >> I was self-taught. I think I might have had a few half-hearted attempts at typing classes in my school career, but I didn’t pay them much attention since I already knew how.

What do you use Facebook for? >> Lately, as a meme repository (and a login device, since a lot of websites have that “login through facebook” feature and I’ve used it enough times that keeping an account is necessary). I find a lot of things about facebook -- format wise and content wise -- to be more trouble than it’s worth.

What do you look like in your profile picture? >> On facebook? I look like me sitting by the river.

Do you love cartoons? >> Sure.

Name a band that you like. >> Vanden Plas.

Name a band you don’t like. >> Mumford & Sons.

Name a genre of music you don’t like? >> Bluegrass.

What genre of music do you listen to around the house? >> No specific genre.

You think it’s wrong to tell a person ____. >> That they should off themselves because of some perceived moral failing.

What kind of compliments have you given? >> No specific kind.

Would you rather give or receive? >> ---

Do you paint your own nails? >> Yes.

Do you like acrylic nails? >> No.

What is your favorite red lipstick? >> I don’t have one.

What are your favorite colors to wear? >> Black, gold, green.

What colors do you NOT wear? >> I don’t wear white, but that’s mostly because wearing white makes me paranoid about getting it dirty. I think black people in white is a compelling aesthetic. Maybe I’ll get over the paranoia one day.

Where do you shop for most of clothes? >> Amazon, Hot Topic, Rue 21-type stores, Plato’s Closet, thrift shops.

What are your favorite clothing stores/shops? >> I don’t know if I have any. All clothing stores manage to disappoint me in some way eventually.

What kind of shoes do you like? >> Boots.

Describe your style in one word. >> Eclectic.

Describe your current personality in one or two words. >> I’m not sure I can do that.

What is your opinion on weed? >> I enjoy it and I think other people should be able to enjoy it (or abstain from it) at their leisure.

Are you afraid of child birth/pregnancy? >> Yes, which is why I refuse to experience it.

What are your favorite bottoms to wear? >> Pajama bottoms, rave pants, Gap jeans, long layered skirts.

Do you like dresses? >> I do, but I’m particular about the kinds I’ll wear.

Would you rather be called a geek, a nerd or a dork? >> It doesn’t matter to me.

Do you eat cake with a spoon or a fork? >> Some with a fork, some with a spoon. Depends on the consistency of the cake.

What age will you be next? >> 31.

Did you graduate high school? >> I did.

Do you make youtube videos? If so, leave your URL >> I used to take video surveys. That was wild.

Do you flat iron your hair? >> No.

What physical features do you wish you had? ( name 2 ). >> Ram horns and a big dick.

Would you ever get plastic cosmetic surgery? >> Probably not. (Also, I’m being facetious about the big dick. It just sounded funny. Dead ass serious about the ram horns, though.)

Ever broken a bone? >> No.

What are your favorite youtube videos to watch? >> Music videos, Honest Trailers, and stuff like School of Life.

What is your favorite sex position? ;) >> Definitely missionary.

Do you like red lipstick? >> Sure.

What color will you paint your nails next? >> I don’t know yet. I need some new colours. I desperately need a good vibrant shimmery gold.

What is one of your favorite Disney movies? >> Hunchback of Notre Dame.

If you could meet a real life Disney character who would it be? >> Tia Dalma, hands down.

Are you afraid of ghosts/hauntings? >> No.

Do you like to play computer games a lot? >> Yes.

Are you a sore loser? >> Not usually.

What is your favorite game to play with family/friends? >> ---

What is your beer of choice? >> I’ll always go for something by Founder’s, Abita, or Leinenkugel.

What do you plan to buy next? >> Probably groceries, and maybe a couple of things for my room.

Do you like shopping? >> Not especially, but I try to find ways to make it less boring/aggravating.

What is one of your favorite things to do on the weekend? >> Hm.

Here, I’m giving you $500 dollars to one store, where would you spend it? >> Let’s just go for Amazon and call it a day.

Would you look good in a Beatle car? >> I’d look good in any kind of car, I’m sure.

Do you play slug bug? >> Sometimes.

What kind of computer are on? >> Normandy is a Lenovo IdeaPad.

You are attracted to ___. >> Where do I even begin.

Do you like glitter? >> I like looking at it sometimes, but I don’t like having it all over me (which is what inevitably happens any time you even think about glitter).

Have you ever owned a Quija board? >> No.

Do you like to text? >> Meh. I prefer instant messaging, especially since that means I can use my computer keyboard.

If you had to be an animal for Halloween, what would it be? >> Let’s stay on-brand and go with spider.

Do you have more dry skin or oily skin? >> Dry.

What kind of shampoo do you use? Be specific. >> I use OGX’s teatree and mint conditioner.

Do you have acne? >> No.

You’re glad that you don’t ___. >> have to do anything specific tomorrow.

You’re glad that you do ___. >> have a new library book to read.

Your favorite cuss word? >> I guess “fuck”.

Are you obsessed with any superheros? >> I’m really into Doc Strange.

Do you read comic books? >> Sure.

Do you like the Sunday paper and why or why not? >> I have no opinion on the Sunday papers.

Do you have cable? >> No.

What’s a show you wish that was still on air? >> I wish Carnivale had gotten to run its full course.

Do you listen to the radio at all? >> Not unless it’s playing in the car.

Do you like hip hop? >> Sure do.

Do you like pretzels? >> The big soft ones. But I’ll eat a few of the small crunchy ones too, if they’re there.

Do you like snow? >> Yeah.

What’s your favorite thing about your favorite season? Name the season. >> I am currently in the market for a new favourite season.

Name something that starts with the first letter of your first name. >> Ley lines.

Name something that starts with the first letter of your middle name? >> Frogs.

And your lastname. >> Dryads.

Do you have pets? If so, what and what are their names? >> I personally don’t, no.

You want your next pet to be what? >> I’m not even sure I personally like the idea of pets anymore. (Human ones aside, I suppose--)

Are you a religious person? >> Yes.

Do you like pina coladas? >> I’ve never had one.

Do you like coconut scents? >> BPAL’s Elegba fragrance has coconut in it, and at first I was like “hrm...” but it works. Anyway, I like coconut circumstantially. Sometimes it’s just too much, but sometimes it just works.

What is your favorite Bath and Body Works candles? >> ---

Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle? >> Eh, I can get candles I like for cheaper than that, so probably not.

What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? >> I’m not sure.

Do you look in the mirror a lot? >> Nah.

Do you brush your teeth twice a day everyday? >> No, once.

What brand of toothpaste do you use? >> Tom’s of Maine.

What is a dessert that you DON’T like? >> Chocolate cake.

And one that you love? >> Tiramisu. --Dammit, I accidentally left the rest of my tiramisu and Chinese food at Sparrow’s parents’ house! >:|

Twilight or Harry Potter? >> I prefer HP to Twilight.

Would you rather be a vampire or a mermaid? >> I don’t think either of those would suit me very well.

About how many times do you fart in a day? >> I mean, I don’t count or anything.

I see… well… what is your favorite angry music? >> I don’t know.

Do you have a favorite number? >> Nine...? You know, I think I’m just going to settle on nine for a number. It’s eight plus one (and eight is my dad’s number, so that makes a kind of sense), and it’s in nineteen, and there are some mythological connotations to consider. Eight’s a really good number too, though. But maybe I’ll go with nine. Nine will be mine.

Had a crush on somebody that every1 around u thought was ugly? >> Sure.

Are you happy with your physical features? >> Most of the time.

P.E or Math? >> Math.

Math or Science? >> Hm.

Creative Writing or Art? >> Creative Writing.

When you doodle, what are you usually doodling? >> Spirals, shapes. Little dancing stick figures.

What is something that you like that is really cheap in price? >> Incense from Sleeping Bear or whatever the name of that mall store is.

What is something that you like that is kind of expensive? >> Travel.

What do you do when someone is really rude to you in public? >> Depends on where my head is at. I’ve done everything from laugh to ignore to fly off the handle.

Do you argue with your significant other a lot? >> No.

Have you ever had a really painful breakup? >> Yes.

Which is better smoking or vaping? >> I assume vaping is less risky.

Do you write in print or cursive? >> Mostly print, for legibility, but I enjoy writing in script.

Do you have neat handwriting? >> It’s gotten less neat over the years, since I’m always on the computer. But it’s still quite legible most of the time, I think. I just have to get the fluidity back into it.

What do you like to write with? >> Pentel Flair type pens.

Do you keep a journal/diary? >> I keep a dreamwidth, and sometimes I even update it.

You should. Do you eat salads? >> Yes.

What do you like in your salad? If you do. If not, what is 1+1? >> Multiple types of greens, a bit of vinaigrette, a little feta, something crunchy like onion or celery or chip shards or small crackers. Pieces of apple is nice too.

If you HAD to change your eyecolor, what would you change it to? >> Hazel.

What would you not change it to? >> Blue. Although it’d be funny from a Deschain point of view.

What is one of your favorite colors? >> Dusky purple.

Do you prefer to be pale or tan? Don’t say in between. >> I definitely prefer being dark.

Favorite thing to do on your phone? >> Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, Bejeweled, reading ebooks.

What magazines do you like? >> New Scientist and Revolver.

What is your favorite book? >> I can’t possibly choose anymore.

What is your favorite thing about Christmas? >> The music.

I’m giving a ticket to wherever you want, where would you go? >> New Orleans.

Here’s $5, what do you do with it? >> Right now, nothing. I’d probably use it for a snack at the gas station during one of my walks.

Cool. Cool. Favorite flavor of Ice Cream? >> Butter pecan, I guess.

Least favorite flavor of ice cream? >> Anything chocolate.

Do you prefer white or black electronics? >> Black.

What is your favorite deodorant? >> I like the smell of my lavender one.

Are you a good kisser ( make out )? >> I like to think so.

A stranger comes up to you and gives you a big hug, what do you do? >> Recoil and fight my way out of it.

Do your eyes tear up when you’re nervous? >> No.

Have you ever gotten the shakes in public? >> Sure.

What do you like to order from Starbucks? >> Eh.

Vanilla or Chocolate? >> Vanilla.

Apples or Bananas? >> Apples.

Fruit or Veggies? >> Veggies.

Water or Milk? >> Water.

Regular Milk or Chocolate Milk? >> Regular, if I must.

Would you milk a cow given the chance? >> I’d have to at least try it.

What kind of underwear do you like? >> The kind that doesn’t give me a wedgie or some other kind of discomfort. (That’s... harder to do than it seems. A lot of underwear styles don’t sit right on me for some reason. Sparrow says it’s because my butt’s big. Probably.)

Where do you shop for your underwear? >> I don’t have a specific place.

Chicken or Fish? >> Fish.

Firm pillow or soft pillow? >> I prefer it to be a little firm.

What are you wearing when you go to sleep? >> Usually a t-shirt and pj pants, in this season.

Do you take any meds? If so which and why? >> No.

Do you like this survey? >> Sure, it was fine.

#surveysofsamedi

1 note · View note

kpopfanficsforthesoul · 7 years

Text

Pictures and Words- Taeyeon (Girls Generation)

Author’s Note: Look at this cutie!!! ^^^ I was so excited to write this. I mean, Sooyoung is my bias, but we all have a soft spot for our creative kid leader :-)

Prompt: We’re roommates at a college dormitory. I’m a creative writing student and you’re an art student. One day I find illustrations all over my assignment.

Genre: Fluff, College!Au, Art Student!Taeyeon

Pairing: Taeyeon x Reader

If a stranger had walked into your dorm, they’d think they walked into the shared room of J.K Rowling and Leonardo Davinci. While the two mentioned are from different time periods, you and your roommate were from different mindsets. It was as if the left side of the brain and the right side decided to split it right down the middle.

Taeyeon and you had only been living together for a week or so, and things were pretty awkward. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along, Taeyeon was a sweetheart. It was just that Taeyeon was very reserved. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to talk, she just didn’t feel compelled to.

You walked into the dorm and looked over at her. She sat against the wall on her bed, going to town on a blank sketchbook, pencils in a jumbled pile next to her. She looked up and gave you a small smile.

It was at this moment that you realized just how different your two sides of the room were. Yours displayed neat bookshelves, an immaculate desk, and neatly stacked papers next to your laptop, while Taeyeon’s consisted of a huge pile of colorful art supplies on her desk, sketchbooks piled up in messy heaps, canvases of past paintings, and a wall covered in photographs.

You took off your black coat and sat down to type on your laptop. After opening a new document, it was only a short amount of time before you’d be hunched over your laptop, face in palms, and scrunching up your hair in your fingers trying to figure out what to write next.

“What are you working on?” she quietly asked, brushing her dark locks out of her eyes to look at you.

“Just a new fantasy assignment for class.” you told her, looking up from your screen with a smile. “How about you? New art project?”

“Nah, I’m just free drawing.” she mumbled with her small and sweet voice, looking back down to her pad. She picked up a bright orange oil pastel and applied a few strokes to her work.

“I wish I could be as inspired as you right now…” you sighed, turning your attention back to the keyboard, trying to figure out which sequence of letters to punch in.

“You having a block?” she inquired with a caring tone, looking back up at you.

You laughed. “I think I am…” You hit your keyboard in frustration as it spewed a squigly red line at you after your fourth spelling revision. “I knew I wasn’t good enough for this class…”

Taeyeon felt sorry for you. As a creative herself, she knew what it was to feel like you couldn’t come up with anything new. In a society that looks down upon those who devote their lives to hobbies like these if they aren’t at the top of their career, she knew how much it was needed to get encouragement.

“You know Y/N…” she started, throwing off her purple comforter and revealing her ripped jeans and pastel pink sweater, “Creative blocks aren’t an actual thing. It’s simply a psychological restriction of creativity put down by the creator themselves.”

“Mmm…” you muttered, sinking your head deeper into your hands.

She got up from her bed to sit next to you. You noticed the mint green and primrose pink paint smudges on her hands, and her scent which smelled of oil paints and fresh pine. “Some of your best work can come out of a block! What I want you to do is just type for ten minutes straight without stopping. Don’t worry about spelling, grammar, or sentence structure, you can tweek all that later. If you force yourself to write through a block, then you’ll be telling your mind that it can’t limit you.”

“Alright…” you agreed, stretching your fingers out. Taeyeon went back to her bed to debate over whether her piece needed more shades of red or not.

She was right. That paper turned out to be one of the best things you’ve ever written, at least it felt like that to you. You ended up stewing up a plot after writing every idea you had suppressed inside of you. That paired with the fueling music blaring through your headphones came strong characters, appropriate setting, and an engrossing conflict. However, it had left you exhausted by the time midnight came around. You shockingly looked at the clock, then glanced over to Taeyeon. She was still awake with her sketchpad, sitting against the wall next to her bedside lamp. You decided to go straight to sleep. You were a deep sleeper, so it didn’t matter to you if she stayed up with the light on.

“Goodnight Taeng, thanks for the encouragement.” you told her with a small smile as you quickly slapped a makeup wipe over your face before passing out.

“No problem!” she told you with a sincere smile.

You awoke to an empty room, Taeyeon gone, along with her personally decorated bag and her sketchbook. Looking at her messy dresser drawers and bag of makeup spilled over her vanity, you realized she was most likely at her early morning watercolor painting class.

You smiled, wiping your disheveled hair out of your face as your remembered the progress you made on your assignment last night. Never before had you been able to write that well at that speed. Thank God you had Taeyeon to get you out of that slump, or it would have never happened.

You excitedly got up out of bed and went to your desk to flip through the printed out pages one last time. It was just a quick short story homework assignment, but that didn’t matter. This had to be perfect. You began to read over the words that used to be locked away in the depths of your brain.

However, as you reached a certain part of the story, you looked down at the space at the bottom where no words were printed. There was a little illustration of a pink mermaid sitting gracefully on a rock, facing the ocean, with a setting sun against the horizon. Her vibrant hair flew back in the wind as she gazed at her home from a different perspective. Your eyes widened as you realized… that’s what your story was about.

The only person who could have read your story while you were asleep was… Taeyeon.

You absolutely adored this illustration. It was the perfect depiction of the aesthetic you had been trying to convey with your words. It was the missing piece to your work! You flipped through the rest of the pages, finding more of her unique sketches. Some were just little doodles in the margin, and some were exquisite pieces drawn on her sketchpad and placed in between the pages of your document.

Suddenly, you received an idea- maybe if you continued writing this plot, Taeyeon would keep drawing new things for it…I mean, she seemed to be inspired by the world you created, and you thought this plot was too good to just be left as an insignificant short story.

You threw on a pair of two tone jeans and a leather jacket, slid your laptop into your bag, and headed out the door to the closest coffee shop. You had some work to do.

It went on like this for a couple of weeks. While Taeyeon was at her morning classes, you would go type away at your developing novel over a hot americano and leave your papers purposely on your desk, and when you went to sleep, she would sneak over to your pages and start drawing to her hearts content. And when you were together in person, you both acted as if everything was normal, not even mentioning the ongoing partnership.

However, one day, towards the end of the year, you had finished the book, and Taeyeon had drawn every important scene. You wanted to do something special with it- so, you put it in a binder, clipping in her drawings where they belonged in accordance with the plot. Tonight, you’d tell her your plan.

“Hey, I’m back!” you heard her declare as she stepped through the door, white converse padding across the wooden floor.

“Hey!” you greeted her. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?” she asked, sitting down on her bed and taking off her patched jean jacket.

“You know how I’ve been writing that mermaid book?” You inquired, cocking your eyebrow.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, if this is about my drawings, I’m so sorry, I just thought it would be okay since it wasn’t an official assignment, and I-”

“Taeyeon, it’s perfectly fine!” you reassured her, holding up your hand and smiling. “I actually really like it. Your drawing is amazing… which is why I want to publish it in my book.”

Her eyes widened even more. “Oh… I don’t know Y/N, I wasn’t really being serious with those, I don’t think they’re good enough to be published in a book…”

“No, I want you to look at this.” you motioned her over, and she came over to your desk where you were sitting. You flipped through the binder you prepared, showing her how well the words fit with the pictures. “Your style is just the thing that this story needs… it’s just what I’ve been trying to display in all my work, right there for the reader to see!”

“I’m still not very sure…” she said, leaning over your shoulder as you flipped through her laminated creations.

You turned around in your chair. “Come on Taeyeon, stop limiting yourself! Perfect pairings between pictures and words like these don’t just happen every day! It goes against all my logic, but… I think it was somehow fate that we were put together as roommates."

Taeyon pursed her lips as she ran her finger over her drawing.

“What do you say, Taeng?”

You looked over at her, the light shifting over her pale face as the elevator rose up.

“Jaqiya, I don’t know if I can do this…” she quaked, rubbing her sweaty palms on her leather skirt.

You sent a reassuring smile at her. “We’ve done book signings before, haven’t we?”

She nervously fiddled with the frills on her white lace top. “Well, that was before our book series became interpreted in ten different languages, sold internationally, and a New York Times best seller.”

“Oh come on, that’s not such a big deal.” you said rolling your eyes.

“We live in South Korea!” she exclaimed.

You snickered at her anguish. “You look really pretty. Come here.”

You engulfed her into your arms. She buried her head in your neck, and you set your chin on top of her head, rubbing up and down her back in a soothing way. “Everything will be okay, my lovely girlfriend. I’m right here with you.”

The light for the top floor flashed, and you both let go of each other.

“Got your lucky pen?” you asked her, smoothing the skirt of your black dress.

“Yep. Get ready!” She squealed with newfound confidence.

You both flashed genuine smiles as the doors of your elevator opened up. You grabbed each others hands and proceeded up the stage as you saw a huge crowd of people waiting in line to receive your signatures.

“And here they are, the author and illustrator of Stars and Sea, Y/N Y/L/N, and Kim Taeyeon!”

Author’s Note: GAH I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT!!! Aish, my Taeyeon feels are welling up. I’m about to burst. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! :-) Cheers to cute and adorkable artist Taengoo!!!

[Masterlist]

-Marie 💗

#kim taeyeon #taeyeon #taeyeon girls generation #snsd #girls generation #taeyeon scenarios #girls generation scenarios #snsd scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop #girls generation reactions

91 notes · View notes