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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part I – At the Beginning

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 1,893 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan @mycat-is-mylove @amirahiddleston a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}

Your time at the Belhaven Foundlings Home ended as abruptly as it began ten years prior. You woke up to find the headmistress standing over you, hands on her hips, giving you that familiar, disapproving scowl she always had.

“Happy birthday. You have till noon to collect your things and get out.”

“I only need till 10,” you replied coolly, giving her that look you knew she hated. Whenever you conjured that imperious, disdainful expression she would tauntingly call you ‘Your Majesty’ and send you to do some odious chore. She had no power over you anymore, though. You were 18, a legal adult, and no longer hers to pretend to care about. Not that she’d put much effort into that anyway.

True to your word you readied yourself quickly. You’d been dropped off at the Home with only your clothes on your back and a necklace. The clothes you’d long ago outgrown and you’d given them to the House for other girls to wear and use, despite being advised to keep and sell them. The necklace was around your neck where it hadn’t left once in the last 10 years. You dressed yourself in the simple clothes you’d acquired since, relying on the charity of neighboring villages to provide for the little House. It was rumored that many of the children in it were bastards of the noble houses which sounded about right to you. You had no use for nobles. The little you’d seen of them had been during the annual holiday fundraiser where you were trotted out on display and they ooh’d and ahh’d and congratulated themselves on their generosity. As if a one-time donation meant anything over the span of a year with more children found abandoned or orphaned all the time.

“Are you really going to do it?” one of the girls asked as you said goodbye, “Are you going to find them?”

“I’m going to try,” you answered, brushing her hair out of her face tenderly.

“What if you don’t?” she asked. It would sound cynical to others but children of the Home knew better than to assume there was family waiting for them out there.

“Then I will make my own,” you answered.

“Are you really going to New Nilfgaard? I’ve heard there are monsters,” another child said, whispering the question and eyeing the closet suspiciously.

“Monsters aren’t real but tragically paperwork is so yes, I have to go there, try and get some notification papers drafted and then I can get a job and then I can save up money and go to Cidaris,” as you recited the plan your heart grew a little heavier. You were closer than you’d ever been but there was still so much time and money and work to do when all you wanted was to get a horse and ride until you were far away from Nilfgaard, New or Old. Still, you kept an optimistic face for the children. You knew you represented something that was rare around here; hope. If you could get out, maybe they could too.

“You have to stop by the palace! Oh Y/N, tell me you will!” a girl pleaded.

“Don’t be stupid, the palace burned down years ago.”

“No! Not all of it! There’s still some standing! A palace, can you believe it?”

“I will go to the palace,” you promised them, though you had no use for palaces or ruins or whatever was left now. You continued your goodbyes and by the time you left it was a bit past noon. You found it hard to leave the girls you’d become a bit of a surrogate mother to in your time there. You worried about them, too. You stood up for them, relentless in your protests against the callous way the headmistress treated them. These protests had caught you the long, lovely tresses you’d had when you arrived. They’d been cut in an attempt to humiliate you into submission but you just praised how light your head felt and vowed to never let it grow long again. You kept your word, your hair rested a couple of inches above your shoulder and you never let it get much longer. It was one of the many unnatural things about you, and therefore one of the many you exhibited with pride.

It was a bitterly cold winter’s day as you left, the snow crunching beneath your shoes which weren’t at all suited for walking through snow. There was still a determined courage in your heart as your fingers rubbed at the pendant, the familiar press of the letters against your skin a reminder of what you sought. Cidaris was far and you’d heard that New Nilfgaard was a brutal place full of conmen and tricksters. But you were a survivor, a girl found lying in the road by some docks with no memory beyond a name and no family though a necklace with clues of where some may be found. It was all you had but it was more than many you knew possessed so you faced the bitter cold and your soaking boots and you held your head up high as you began to trudge towards New Nilfgaard and your new life.

-----

New Nilfgaard was where hope went to die. Fortunately, it was where opportunism went to flourish, and none knew how to work an opportunity like Jaskier de Lettenhove. Separated from his family one fateful night a decade prior, Jaskier had woken to find himself in the company of a boy older than him (though, he reminded him often, not that much older). The boy, who begrudgingly introduced himself as Geralt, offered to aid Jaskier in tracking down any remaining family he may have but the boy took tragedy and turned it into a second chance.

“I’ve always been terrible at being noble anyway,” he’d argued, “Besides, no one is allowed in or out without identification.”

Geralt argued that the first point didn’t matter but the second had merit. Since Nilfgaard had “repossessed” the formerly independent duchy of Toussaint (a name no longer allowed to be spoken) they had become very concerned with identifying any who may spread word of what had occurred and bring attention from outside countries. Those who had fled the party that night found that trying to leave was akin to walking into a mousetrap and so many had chosen to either hide their identities and take that risk or start a new life in New Nilfgaard.

The first thing Jaskier stole was a lute. He insisted it was necessary as he could use the money he made performing to never steal again. This, as Geralt knew, was just the first of what would be a long and increasingly adept skill of thieving. They had a code, though, only stealing from the shops owned by Nilfgaard merchants who raised prices exorbitantly and tried to push out local merchants. And Jaskier did spend his earned (or pilfered) coin on those smaller places. Geralt offered his services doing bodyguard work around the country, a highly demanded occupation for those noblepeople who were hiding out and wanted to try and cross over to other places. He had invested in leather armor which Jaskier had decried as an extravagant expense until Geralt convinced him by increased earnings that the more intimidating he looked, the more business he got. It didn’t take very long for him to earn back what he’d spent. Jaskier didn’t have much room to criticize clothing expenses. He was forever coming back with a new doublet set and when Geralt glowered at him for it he just talked about The Local Economy and Helping Small Businesses. He didn’t mention the additional cost of importing the fine fabrics. Most of the time, like now, when they were just talking about plans, he tried to spare the nice clothes by opting for a simple undershirt. Geralt sometimes teased, reassuring him that they could afford to replace his buttons if they went and he could in fact use all of them but Jaskier merely scoffed and left his shirts half-unbuttoned, the soft thatch of dark hair across his chest always visible and whether or not Geralt liked to admit it, the scandalous sight made people a bit more generous with their well-earned coin after performances. All in all they made an odd-looking pair; the amber eyed, silver haired man in pitch black leather armor and the pale blue eyed, chestnut haired bard with his lute and jewel-toned doublets. Both wearing their own sort of camouflage, both trying to find ways to survive in this new world they’d been thrust into as children. Together they survived alright but Jaskier was determined that they find a way to earn enough money to secure their way out of New Nilfgaard forever. And he’d been working on a plan for 10 years, waiting for the moment to strike.

“Why now?” Geralt demanded, voice much lower and brisker than it had been when they’d met.

“Her grandmother grows desperate,” Jaskier answered, “This is our best chance.”

They spoke in hushed tones over cups of watered-down ale that made Geralt screw up his face in disgust and glare in the direction of the bartender with every sip. Jaskier was too focused on his plan to notice or care.

“Hmm… and you feel aright with this? Tricking an old woman into believing she’s found her probably dead granddaughter?” Geralt asked bluntly, giving Jaskier a look that wasn’t so much judgmental as assessing. He wasn’t against shady dealings but he did need to know that his partner wouldn’t back out if his sometimes romantic or sentimental nature got the best of him.

“Whatever it takes,” Jaskier said simply, reciting the motto the two of them had established when they decided to stick it out together. Geralt nodded.

“Whatever it takes.”

“And besides, you’re acting as if we have nothing to go in with! We have this,” Jaskier glanced around carefully and then produced the little music box he’d taken with him from the palace when Geralt rescued him, “We just need a woman.”

“Famous last words,” Geralt murmured into his glass, taking another sip and then wincing and glaring at the bartender again. “Where exactly will we get a woman who happens to look like this long lost princess? You expect her to just waltz into town? Perhaps we can summon her to the palace?”

He chuckled, amusing himself with his bizarre idea, and then looked over and found Jaskier’s sky blue eyes glinting dangerously. It was a look he got as he worked out an idea and Geralt already didn’t like it.

“Do you still know that mage?” Jaskier asked.

“She’s in Cidaris,” Geralt replied, “And no.”

“What about that other one?”

“No, Jaskier.”

“Very well. But the old palace is a good idea anyway. We should go there and see if we can find any more scraps of relics or information we can use to help build our case for when we find the right woman,” Jaskier said, already getting up from the table.

“Everything has already been ransacked and either sold or burnt. Jaskier, are you listening to me? Gods damnit…” Geralt slammed a coin on the table and hurried off after the bard who was already out the door and running headfirst into the unknown.

#All Is Found series #Anastasia!AU #The Witcher!AU #Jaskier x Reader #fanfiction

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gutbrainaxis · 5 years

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lemon balm

My first experience with ulcerative colitis pain was in June of 2018. I felt a searing pain under my lowest rib on my right side, stretching down to my pelvis. Later that night, I got my period. Aha, I figured. My period. Of course. That night my flow was so heavy that I had to supplement my tampons with dunkin donuts napkins, wrapped expertly around the crotch of my panties in an effort to not further stain my boyfriend’s bedsheets.

Towards the end of my period, I found that I was extremely constipated. My entire abdomen felt like a water balloon full of cement. I let my mom drive me to the emergency room, not her own, but rather the one she used to work at some 2o-odd years ago. It was frustrating to stop every few feet to meet my mom’s coworkers from 20 years ago. I was hunched over and walking very slowly, in something like a bipedal fetal position. I don’t care how long ago you worked with my mom Sandra, my stomach feels like it’s about to explode. Intake was frustrating. A young, pretty nurse with an Apple Watch asks about my symptoms. I tell her my stomach feels like cement. Nothing else abnormal. Just the cement.

I finally get a bed in the ER. It’s a calm afternoon and my mom chats with the young nurse who gives me an IV. He completed part of his training at her hospital. They don’t remember each other. I get fluids and an ibuprofen and I’m discharged before I know what’s going on. I’m confused because I’m still in excruciating pain and I still don’t understand what’s going on. My mom says that I’m to follow up with my gynecologist.

Two days later, I’m at the OBGYN. My usual doctor, an advanced practice nurse, isn’t available, says the nurse. I catch her up on my medical history. I had had an abortion six months prior and yes I had followed up with the doctor and yes it had gone smoothly and no there was no pain. A white-haired gentleman speaks with me about my symptoms while pressing gently on my abdomen. He gives me a prescription for a vaginal ultrasound and leads me into his office, where we talk about the birth control I’ve neglected to take for the last 18 months. His office is decorated with pictures of his family and grandchildren and their crayon artwork. He strikes me as the type of man who is so knowledgeable about women’s reproductive health that he has embarrassed his daughters on several occasions. I learn that there is no medical reason for women to release their blood monthly. Did you know that the reason why the last week of a 30-day pack of birth control consists of sugar pills? It’s not because the woman needs to release her blood, as I had assumed. It’s a built-in pregnancy test. You could, theoretically, skip the sugar pill week. I leave the office with samples of NuvaRing in hand and sense of liberation from the Lutero-industrial complex.

We go to my mom’s facility, where a talkative Russian lady conducts my ultrasound and advises me in gentle terms to gain some weight soon. My ultrasound appears normal, although there is some evidence that I had a cyst on my left side that had already exploded or whatever. They don’t seem concerned.

Later that day, I go back to the ER. This time I give in to my mom’s advice and let her take me to her own ER. I’m reluctant to go there because I know she’ll be recognized and I’ll have to make pleasantries with all of her coworkers. It’s amazing how tone deaf they can be. It’s like, “Oh my how much you’ve grown! I saw you when you were 5 years old! Oh, you’re in horrible pain right now? Oh dear, you should definitely go to the hospital!” Still, I go.

This time they prepare me for a CT scan with contrast. I’m waiting for about an hour before I’m given a foul tasting drink that I have to down in order for the CT scan to appear with contrast. It looks like water but it tastes like freezer burn, if that makes sense. I take generous swigs and chase it with the thought that the taste is not as horrible as my pain.

They wheel my bed into a room with the giant eggshell colored contraption. I don’t remember much at that point except for putting my bra back on afterwards. I sit in the ER waiting for my results. It turns out that there is some thickening of my bladder wall, but nothing that causes any alarm or explains my symptoms.

Sometime around July 10, the pain morphs into something else. I remember waking up and immediately regretting being awake. I remember laying in bed paralyzed with pain. There was no comfortable position for any part of my body. I could not re-position my body without evoking the pain. I could not be awake. I took Naproxen that day, as per mom’s suggestion. No use. I took a good deal of melatonin in an effort to go back to sleep. Sleep was the only respite. There was a point when my body would not let me go back to sleep. It had been satiated. I was awake, regardless of whether or not I wanted to be. I stared at the flowers my mom had placed on my bedstand. Lemon balm sprigs, clipped from my aunt’s garden the prior afternoon on the way home from the ultrasound.

Lemon balm leaves are small, maybe just an inch in length. Its outer ridges are rounded. They have soft, tiny hairs that give it a velvety feel like a peach. They smell like sugar-dusted lemon, like a lemon bar pastry with graham cracker crust. I thought about the leaves. I thought about a single leaf. I thought about a single leaf so big that it could block out the intrusive daylight that continuously assaulted my eyelids. I imagined being a lady bug and sleeping under a hut made of a single lemon balm leaf. I thought about the cool earth underneath me, and the bliss of knowing nothing of the forest around me, only the packed earth below me and the leaf above me. I blocked out all other awareness. I let myself be encapsulated by its cool sweetness. I felt okay.

Later that night, my mom comes home from work. It’s close to midnight, or maybe just past midnight. She comes into my room and it’s dark. She says, “GutBrain?”I do not respond. The sound of her calling my name wrenches me from my lemon baum dream. I refuse to see her shadowy silhouette standing in my doorway. I can feel that it is there and with that growing awareness, I can feel the pain resurfacing with my consciousness. It grows logarithmically. She calls my name again. I can hear the concern in her voice. She asks me if I need to go to the emergency room. I grip the fringes of my daydream and lying as motionless as possible, I say, “Don’t… talk… to… me… it.. hurts”. A flurry of questions. I ignore them all. I grapple for the edges of the forest, the lemon balm leaf, my sanctuary. But it’s slipping away. Quick.

I whisper, “Sorry”. I know that I seem rude to her and I feel bad for that, but I also know that my guilt for being rude is a human emotion and at that moment, I couldn’t disentangle any aspect of my humanity from the pain in my abdomen. When I began meditating, I imagined walking through a series of doors and closing them behind me. I abandoned my belly pain in the same place that I abandoned all awareness of my human body and my human family and my human worries. When she called my name, it all came flooding back. I can’t unhear the sounds of her shuffling in the kitchen. The muffled voice of my grandma. I resign myself to being awake now. I use my elbows to leverage my lower half over the edge of my bed. My feet make contact with the carpet. A slow trek to the bathroom, lumbering under the weight of the magma in my body. Wince as I remove my pants. Sit on the toilet and stare at the cabinet in front of me as the pain galvanizes. Nothing comes out. I realize that if these doctors don’t figure out what’s wrong with me soon, I would have to kill myself.

It was the first time that I had confronted that idea without crying. I had experienced depressive episodes and suicidal ideation before, but it was always like scratching a mosquito bite. It felt good to think about dying. I had imagined exotic scenarios that implicated those who had wronged me- donating a kidney to someone and then dying afterwards. I used to dream about my funeral attended by all my friends but not my boyfriend. I used to imagine my dad’s horrible girlfriend discovering my body in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. I used to associate suicide with relief, justice, redemption.

It was only then, sitting on the commode, experiencing this otherworldly pain, that I felt that sadness of it all. It was only then that I realized that I didn’t deserve to die. I never did deserve to die. It was only then that I saw my own death as a tragedy. It was only then that I saw the injustice of my own death. It was then that I knew I couldn’t surrender.

#stomach ulcers #autoimmunedisease #ibs

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wintaer-bear · 6 years

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The Other Kim (M)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader x Kim Namjoon Genre/Rating: fluffy smut / M, mature audiences only plz Warnings: explicit sex, unprotected intercourse Word Count: 4.3k Summary: Marriage is awesome. You get to have sex whenever you want, wherever you want.

“Mrs. Kim!” The reference still makes you smile. There’s a euphoric element in the title that binds the muscles of your oris to your heartstrings, a tug that reminds you that you are his and, unequivocally, he is yours. “Mrs. Kim,” the voice repeats, softer now that it has your attention. “Your husband is in the lobby. Says he'd like to get lunch?” You give the new receptionist a whimsical look, a raised eyebrow to indicate your reluctance to believe that your husband, a man who has spent the better of the first six months of marriage hidden away in the darkest corners of the world, is simply, idly waiting for you to make an appearance downstairs. It's a possibility, and by no means do you rule it out, but he's crazy about you - the two of you are crazy about each other, and these months he's been away for work has only amplified and solidified the fact. You don’t trust it. If the man downstairs isn’t letting himself in, or causing a scene about the idiocy of building security that won't grant him access to the elevators at the forefront, there is no chance in hell that the visitor is in fact your man. Not that you husband is ill behaved, so to speak. No, he's quite the opposite. Typically, the most reserved man in the room. But he's a man with purpose. He would allow little to nothing, save for the insatiable taste of your lips, to get in the way of his mission. "My husband?" You ask, bleak and unnerving. You want it to be him. You want it to be a wondrous Christmas miracle in his cultured arms. You want to shower him with kisses of longing and bathe in him words of endearment, hold his hand until their raw from your touch. But there have been many times where your husband has inadvertently amused you in sending replacements: Jimin on your anniversary, with a half dozen bouquet of flowers. "One for every year you have decided to keep me," the card read. Jungkook on your birthday, cake and all. And by 'all' you mean helium filled balloons with streamers and confetti, party hats for everyone on the office floor and kazoos to last the year. There was even a time your husband requested his mother's presence. His mother, the sweetest, as mother in laws come, thoroughly enjoyed intermingling with corporate officials at the benefit dinner. She was your husband's stand in, no less, and finessed her way to a charitable amount of donations from her newfound friends through the over zealous sharing of your direction for the organization. "Says he's Kim Taehyung and he's ready to complete his marital duties." You scoff at the words. Kim Taehyung, that sneaky, playful, son of gun. "Let him up," you hiccup, ready to announce your endearments the moment he breaks through the glass doors. Six months is too long to go without seeing someone you love. There was a time the two of you were inseparable. From the time you made him rehearse your wedding vows as children up to now, where it takes all of him to convince you that your marriage isn't in shambles, but just an unconventional promise of love, he has always been your best friend. Your first love. Your first kiss. Your first -

It was awkward, to say the least, learning the anatomy of a man through the preliminary lessons of your best friend. You were young, too young to be dabbling in the actuality of love. But you had fire, and he had heart. Two things that should, on their own, be more than enough to transcend through any hardship.

It was clumsy at first, the stumbling of excited hands and the trembling of untrained lips. The first time Taehyung kissed you was like electricity. A current all its own and your pulse melted into his. He must have asked you a thousand times if it was alright, not that you could make out his words in between your shortened gasps, but you nodded anyway - anything to get his lips back on yours.

You remember saving yourself for him and when you turned 18 you made a unplanned visit to his dorm room and told him you were through. You couldn’t wait anymore and you wanted to spend forever with him. The sex was passionate, slow, nothing like the love between you where it burned hot and steady.

“Please Tae,” you quivered, a trembling mess beneath him as his two fingers slid in and out of you. “Don’t stop.” The will power it must have taken him to simply play with your cunt as you begged for his thickness is unfathomable. It wasn’t until you came undone from his fingers and tongue did he begin to undress himself and expose his own excitement.

His cock was pink and swollen, damp from his own wetness. But as much as he wanted you, to enter you and feel your tightness welcome him, he wanted your own pleasure more.

“I love you,” he whispered on top of you, kissing you from head to chin. “You know that, right?” You nodded. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready. We can wait,” he paused, hesitating before he continued. “I can wait.

You wanted to laugh, to ask him how he could say such sweet nothings while his throbbing cock was pressed against your thigh, but instead you brought your mouth to his ear, bit his lobe and whispered with conviction, “I want you.”

Taehyung couldn’t keep his eyes off you, as if he had never a finer sight. He had seen you undress before, an accident that occurred when he forgot to knock, and again when he sneaked into your bedroom for a midnight surprise of “I love you’s” and “I just wanted to see you,” but this time, he knew, was different. He was about to make you his, touch you in places he has yet to. He unrolled the translucent condom around his length and positioned himself at your core, lustful but sure. His entry was unhurried and gentle, every inch of him aware of your clenching cunt. His mouth pressed in a straight line, tucking his lips within each other to prevent himself from groaning. To prevent himself from enjoying the luxury of your pussy and coming prematurely.

His grunts were deep even though he was not. Watching you squirm to adjust beneath him, he paused halfway through, cock only breaking the entrance of you tight womb. The stretch was uncomfortable, but by no means painful. The lubrication from your climax was still prevalent inside, preparing you for his thickness.

“Tae,” you begged, “please.”

A breath escaped the both of you, a gasp of synchrony you’ve never heard before. A union between children. Simultaneous pleasure as Taehyung allowed himself to enter you fully, until his pelvic felt the curve of your bottom cheeks.

He gaped at the sensation, never feeling the pleasure of a woman before, for you, too, were his first.

His first few thrust were deep, as if he didn’t want to remove himself from the depths of your womb. But as you began to chant his name, his excitement grew and his movements flowed more fluid and complete. The snaps of his hip loud as they slammed against your core.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated, chasing his high within your womanhood. His fingers moved in circles, teasing your clit and awaiting your climax just the way he had seen in movies. Movies he had watched to prepare for you. Movies he watched so he wouldn’t look like a fool as he made love to you, as he cherished you.

Although he tried, he couldn’t hold out. He came in spurts, pushing his cock in deeper, harder, as he covered himself in his own seed.

That was the first time of many you made love to Taehyung. A ritual that became second to breathing. So when he announced his plans of travel, his internship abroad, you were hell bent on marrying him, so sure your place was beside him, following him around the world. But the world brings stranger things - better things.

Taehyung is a model, for now. His occupation changes as often as his passions and he’s the kind of person to act on his impulses (hence you). The world has been kind to him, cultivating his dreams and, like you, always letting him win.

The moment you catch sight of his fluffy hair bouncing around the corner, you can’t help but squeal in anticipation. It’s not any better when he breaks through the double doors, his eyes wide and gleaming. God, how you love those eyes. Pupils that express every ounce of his emotion, every flicker of happiness. You figure that’s how he’s catches his gigs, lands every job he interviews for. There’s some uncanny amount of truth and sincerity hidden beneath his folds and it doesn’t help that he’s so friendly, a bundle of joy contained in a vessel.

“I have missed you, I missed you, I miss you and I will always miss you,” he admits, crushing you beneath his tight hold. Your face his buried into his chest, a suffocating feeling you have missed entirely too much. “I’m never leaving you again, I swear.”

“I’ll give you some time to catch up,” the assistant coughs as she shuts the door behind her, the quaintness apparent in her beady eyes.

When Taehyung finally allows you to breathe, he takes a moment to stare at you, taking in the you before him now and comparing it to the you he saw six months ago. It would almost make you weak if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re thinner,” he breathes, tucking the loose hairs surrounding your face behind your ears. “Let’s fix that.”

Lunch is great. A whole lot of laughter and playing catch up. With Taehyung’s job, it makes it nearly impossible to get a hold of him. Photoshoots here, runways there. There's no sleep in his lifestyle, let alone time for you. But you’re important to him, he lets you know. He reminds you every time he comes home.

“Do you remember when we were kids? Not even kids. I don’t know maybe 17? And you told me you loved me for the first time?”

“I remember,” you panic, still sick at the thought. “You said you loved me too. And that was the end of it.”

Before, it would have been crucifying, nothing short of walking naked on pin needles to your own grave, to admit and relive your one sided crush on your neighbor. Taehyung has always been handsome, goofy and more friendly than need be. But he was dense, oblivious to the meaning behind the shy smiles and giggling amongst females as he walked by. He made nothing of the handfuls of do-eyed confessions, categorizing them as exaggerated friendships. You had thought it to be alleviating, an unexpected optimism you found in all his blunt rejections, until you realized you, too, were in love with him.

It took you the better of a ruined childhood friendship and years of self-loathing before you came to terms with your feelings. You remember waking up one day expecting Taehyung to feel the same. It was at a house party, you didn’t normally attend parties, but Taehyung was going - and you needed to tell him.

A party filled with booze and adolescent fun, it only took two cups of party juice before you had the courage to tell him. You took him outside, away from the beer pong table he was dominating, held him close and whispered something he could never forget.

The way your heart stopped when you heard his giggle is still memorable to this day. He set your heart aflutter in returning the three small, but monumental, words and for a second the world stood still - the world stood still to applaud your innocence, your triumph, your stupidity.

“The beginning,” he corrects, point his finger to make a point. “No me, no husband.”

His phone rings and he sends it his voicemail. “Work, probably,” he shrugs. “It can wait.” But the phone rings again. And again.

“I don’t mind,” you assure. You’re used to it, the constant ringing of his cell phone, the texts and interruptions. “Go.”

You hate to see him leave, tired and unfed. The makeup under his eyes can only conceal so much. Tomorrow, you figure, you’ll get to see him tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes all too soon. When you arrive in the office, coffee is in order. There’s work to do stemming from last night’s appraisal, a sudden increase in your grant - not that you’re complaining. This non-profit is your baby, your pride and joy, and, fingers crossed, your final calling. Too many times have you immersed yourself in business plans only to have them fall apart.

There’s something about Friday’s that make it all the more hectic. The demand of weekly deadlines, the rush of final faxes, offices closing, weekend bustle, traffic jams on the outskirts of the city, all concepts that, although are intended to keep you busy, only make you feel all the more lonelier than you really are.

You miss your husband. You miss his presence. You miss the smell of his skin after he takes a shower. You miss him in the shower. The thought brings a blushed smile to your lips. You recall how cute his butt looks, how thick his waist is, how good he looks completely naked below you.

You stare at your phone, at his picture, disappointed but not surprised. No new messages. No missed calls. You return to bury yourself in work, dodging all the pent up frustration you just brought upon yourself.

“Mrs. Kim?”

There it is again, the unsure quiver in her voice. This time the assistant knocks as she enters, her face disapproving at your obvious state - sluggish and self wallowing. Who asked her anyway?

“Your husband. He wants to do lunch. ”

“Send him up,” you twinkle, ready for Taehyung to make up the events of last night. You really just want lunch, but he’s the type to overcompensate and bring chocolates and an apology card.

Today it’s flowers. A bouquet of red roses that cover his face as he makes way through your office door. Odd for him to shut it behind him. He normally leaves doors open. He likes the the draft, the option to escape when things get particularly awkward.

“Taehyung, what are you doing?”

His footsteps come to a halt and he pauses. “Taehyung?” He repeats, removing the flowers from his field of vision. “No, baby, it’s the other Kim.”

It’s as if the world quit spinning, or at the very least, you weren’t breathing. The other Kim. Your Kim.

“Namjoon!?” It isn’t a question, but a declaration. A declaration of love and aching that has suddenly subsided with his presence. He’s home. Your husband, after six months in the jungle attempting to save the world from itself, is finally safe - finally home.

You run into his arms, thoughtless of the flowers in his hands, and insert yourself in his hold instead. Namjoon doesn’t fight it. He drops the flowers at his feet and mold his hands to the curve of your body as he embraces you, a caress warmer than the sun. His hands are large and rougher than you remember. You can feel the callouses through your thin, chiffon button up, the only layer separating his hands from the barrenness of your flesh.

You don’t take a second to register where his mouth is before start placing your eager lips all over him. From collarbone to the skin you can reach on his face, you smother him with kisses, with wanting.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you whisper. “From the moment you left,” kiss, “until now,” kiss “I have missed you.” Big kiss. He is too tall for you to kiss his plump lips directly, but you remove your arms from his sides to wrap around his neck and he bends over to return your affection. You kiss him one more time, less rushed and more delicately on his lips as if to tell him ‘good job, you’ve done well, and i am so proud to be your wife.’

Namjoon’s tongue swipes your lips, his hands round at the bottom of your ass and he picks you up as if you’re weightless before him. He carries you across the room, setting you on your desk, shoving all else aside as he marks you as his. A claiming ritual he’s done countless times before.

“I thought you wanted to grab lunch?”

“Grab,” he smirks, dragging your ass to the edge of the desk. “And, do.” He runs his hands up your shirt and you hiss under the sensation of his caress.

If Taehyung’s touch is a circuit of electricity, Namjoon’s is a endless supply of light. A quasar that powers the dam of your sentiments. He compels everything out of you: the good, the bad, the light, the dark. There is not a part of you he has not seen. There is not a part of you he has not loved. He is your brightest day and your longest night.

His grip is tight and unrelenting at your breast while he extends your kisses to his. This time, he’s the one smothering you with endearment, pecking you with kisses from ear to the crook of your neck. Each kiss is wet. Each kiss is stimulating. Each kiss leaves you famished for more.

“Let’s go home baby.” You pull him away from your body to look at him, to beg him to take you to bed and allow you to feel a half year's worth of anticipated climax.

Namjoon responds with a gentle kiss to the tip of your forehead, he entangles his fingers with your messy hair as he grins and then brings his lips to your nose. “You think.” Cheek. “After calling me Taehyung.” Lips. “That I’m going” Neck. “To wait to make love to you?” Collarbone. “Taehyung could never love you like me,” with those words Namjoon returned his lips to yours and reclaimed his dominance. “Never fuck you like me.” His tongue press against your teeth tracing your insides as if in search for something.

“I want these lips on my dick,” he breathes. “Moaning my name, sucking my cock. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

It’s one in the afternoon, nearly time for all your employees to begin flocking back in from lunch. You know this. You know you should control yourself, save it for tonight in the privacy of your own home - but the thought excites you. The thought of getting caught in the middle of the day when you’re supposed to be a professional, and in your office, no less.

You plop yourself off the desk, trailing his essence with your fingers, gliding down his sides as you position yourself on your knees. You press kisses on his tummy, his belly button, the rim of his jeans, and finally, the bulge of his cock.

Namjoon groans in return, impatient for your mouth. “Suck,” he commands.

You don’t wait to take him in, too eager at his feet. A mistake. He’s big. Namjoon cock twitches in your mouth at the heavenly sensation. You run your tongue along the side of his cock, dragging it as you come up for air.

“Fuck, baby,” he jeers. “Yes. Just like that. God, I’ve missed your sweet mouth.”

You hum into his dick and allow him to feel each vibration.

“Of all the places,” he pants. “And all the views,” he pushes you head further into him, shoving his cock down your throat in a bliss you haven’t felt since his departure. “Unghh,” he grunts. “Nothing compares to seeing you on my cock.”

Namjoon pulls his dick from your throat and brings you up for a kiss well done.

He’s stunning. When you look at him you can see the little beads of perspiration on his forehead and they gleam in the afternoon light, as if he’s the one doing work.

The peckered sweat on his forehead reminds you of your first acquaintance. You were supposed to be visiting Taehyung. He was a photographer at the time and was making his way through the African terrain. He had just gotten out of his landscape phase and wanted a new challenge, something that moved, something that was hard to catch with his lens.

He met Namjoon on one of his excursion, something about getting lost in the maze of vines and undergrowth, and the two quickly became friends. It’s like that with Taehyung. He meets someone, and has this amazing gift of making you feel like you’re old friends.

Taehyung was supposed to pick you up from the airport, show you around the congo, anything to deliberately show he still had interest in the hobbies he leaves behind - but he didn’t. A part of you knew in coming what you would find. An adventure for sure, but a whole different kind.

While you and Taehyung spent the bittersweet end trying to convince yourselves the flame was still ongoing and steady, the love went up in smoke.

For awhile, the only means of communication you had with Taehyung was through Namjoon. He had been there to see the downfall, “a wasted love” he calls it, and was adamant on getting the two of you back together. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Somewhere along the way, Namjoon shamefully admitted his feelings to his new-old-friend and Taehyung just laughed.

“How could you not?” He asked.

“Bend over for sweetheart.” Namjoon turns your around on your desk, shoving his erection between the cheeks of your ass to taunt you. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Without warning your husband raises the hem of your pencil skirt above your waists and delivers a wet kiss between your folds. “Shit baby,” Namjoon whispers when he can. “You’ve must have missed me a lot. You’re practically dripping and I haven’t even touched you yet.” You clench your entrance at his touch, his fingers running the lines of your panties.

“Joonie,” you gape. “Don’t tease - ah.”

He shoves your soiled underwear to the side as he enters your cunt with his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste good. Have you been using the toys I send you?”

“Y-Yes,” you shiver, his tongue and gliding fingers bringing you near ecstasy. “But only when we skype.”

Namjoon smiles. Though he can’t be there physically, he never leaves you lonely. Even when he has to be up at the crack of dawn to bike to whatever parts of the continent, he makes it a priority to have you satisfied before bed. He’ll call you at three in the afternoon, with erotic notions of his arousal, of demands for your own release. Namjoon will send you pictures of his day and dick at three in the morning, still insistent that you read them and call when you wake. You would think the boy would get his time zones right, but “there no time when he is not in love,” you quote, “so does time even really matter?”

“Show me,” Namjoon stands, aligning his cock at your drenched entrance. “Just like you do on skype baby girl.” He bends over, careful not to break entry before whisper in your ear and tugging your hair between his fingers. “Show me how you fuck yourself on a hard cock.”

At his words, you stretch your ass out to him, swallowing the entirety of his cock as you continuing to twerk your ass on his hips.

Namjoon brings his fingers to your clit with his free hand, rubbing circles in all their pleasure. “Fuck, baby, fuck” he muffles, aware of the increasing noise outside the office. “Slow down baby girl, let me help.”

For once, you don’t listen to him. You increase your speed, pumping him in ways you’ve been practicing at home. To finally feel him makes your knees weak. To feel the entirety of his cock makes you -

“Joon, Joon,” you repeat. “I’m gonna- fuckkkkk! I’m going to cum!”

Namjoon power thrusts his cock on last time inside of you before you become undone, squeezing his circumference tighter than you have before. A euphoric moan leaves your breath as your knees shake and bend against the desk. Namjoon is still pounding into you from behind, approaching his own high.

“Fuck, where should I? Baby, where should I-”

His question is cut short with your mouth. Using whatever strength you have left in your knees, you lean back to kiss him, assuring him that it’s okay. “Cum in me, baby. I want you to. It’s okay.”

You’ve never let Namjoon cum in your before, not even while on the bill. The both of you are too busy in your own right to even contemplate the thought of being responsible for another human apart for yourselves. But this feels right. The connection, the bond between you and Namjoon is permanent, is more atomic and pure than the feeble flames of fire.

“God,” he moans as he spurts in his final jackhammering. You can feel the cum splattering against the roundness of your ass.

A part of your heart clenches at the realization. He’s not ready. He doesn’t feel the same. He didn’t come inside.

Namjoon leans over to kiss you, this time to assure you that that it’s okay. “One day, cutie.” He kisses you again on his reach for the issues on your desk. “When I’m done, when I’m home, we can start our family. But until then,” Namjoon smacks your ass playfully before return your skirt to its original position. “You’re just going to have to keep fucking me like that.”

A/N: written for all the tortured taejoon hos out there. myself included. may we find inner peace in knowing that we will never have either of them. yay.

#bts smut #v smut #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #later: proofread

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mssng-lttrs · 7 years

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thank you so much for tagging me, @studywithbread! a bit late, but i had fun answering!

Rules: Answer these 92 89 statements and tag 20 people

LAST: 1. Drink: water (it’s important to stay hydrated, kids!) 2. Phone call: a call from my great aunt telling me that she was waiting out front 3. Text message: sent - “ohh” (my friend told me that jacob stegosaurus got hacked lmao) received - “good night” (a text from my family group chat) 4. Song you listened to: Trade Mistakes by Panic! at the Disco 5. Time you cried: i honestly don’t remember?? i’m just not a big crier. the last time i cried was also the first time i cried in public. i stayed after class to ask my teacher to input some assignments (this was after the deadline for late work and he didn’t accept any more emails). he went off on me, saying that i should’ve emailed and blah blah blah. i walked out to lunch with my friend who had waited and then started to cry

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: no 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: is it lame that i’m sixteen and haven’t even had my first kiss?? 8. Been cheated on: no 9. Lost someone special: um, not in the aspect of friends, but i have lost family members 10. Been depressed: not really 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: i aM a gOod kiD!! (the answer is no.)

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: yellow, purple (lilac or very dark purple), and black

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: yes i have 16. Fallen out of love: i don’t really have any experience with love lmao 17. Laughed until you cried: i don’t think i’ve ever laughed and ended up with tears, but i have laughed until i ran out of breath and ended up just clapping my hands together like a seal 18. Found out someone was talking about you: no, i have not 19. Met someone who changed you: i don’t think i’ve recently met someone with that much impact on my life 20. Found out who your friends are: i think i have 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: i honestly don’t even know how to use facebook

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: ^see above 23. Do you have any pets: no, but i really, really, really want a dog!!

HYDRATION REMINDER #1: drink a glass of water! yes, right now!

24. Do you want to change your name: no, i do not. i’m really proud of my name (despite not choosing to disclose it on here) because it has a certain meaning to it 25. What did you do for your last birthday: my last birthday was actually pretty fun! for my sixteenth birthday, i decided to have a party (after not having one since like fourth grade) with a bob ross theme. it was pretty small, i only invited a few friends over, but we had a lot of fun just chilling and painting along to bob ross :) 26. What time did you wake up: i woke up at 7:15 due to my alarm, but then went back to sleep until 8:45 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: falling asleep 28. Name something you can’t wait for: this sunday. i’m part of a teen advisory board at my local library and i came up with this idea for a program. i’ve spent a few months working on putting everything together for this, and it’s going to be on sunday! 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: this morning when she left for work 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: um… i’m not sure, i think i’m pretty okay with my life at the moment 31. What are you listening to right now: Black Mambo by Glass Animals 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: i am very shocked that my answer is no 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: my little brother’s temper tantrums 34. Most visited websites: youtube and tumblr

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: i have one below my right eye and a few light ones on my cheeks by my mouth 36. Mark/s: i have a birthmark on the back of my thigh that i can’t see myself unless i sit in front of a mirror and lift up my leg. i also have a scar on my stomach right next to my navel from surgery as a premature baby 37. Childhood dream: my childhood dream was to own and manage my own restaurant and to be a writer. i don’t remember if one came before the other or if they came about at the same time. the restaurant dream has faded away over time, but i still love to write 38. Hair color: black, but the ends have gotten a dark brown from the sun 39. Long or short hair: when i was little, i really did not want to get my hair cut. so, i only ever got it trimmed until two years ago. i decided to actually cut it and donate the hair, because my hair was long enough to do so. my hair ended up a few inches past my shoulders, and i actually really liked it. then i let my hair grow out and back in december i decided to cut it again to donate. this time, it went up to about my collarbones. i don’t really prefer one hair length over the other, though 40. Do you have a crush on someone: no, i do not 41. What do you like about yourself: i like my creativity and my ability to make others laugh 42. Piercings: i only have two, one on each lobe. i love the idea of other piercings (eyebrow bars, septums, snake bites, etc.), but i wouldn’t get them myself 43. Blood type: i have no idea 44. Nickname: in real life, i don’t really have any nicknames. i prefer people to call me by my full name, but i’m fine with people coming up with nicknames that don’t have to do with my actual name. on here, i go by o.a.a (here’s why) 45. Relationship status: single, but i would really like to be in a relationship 46. Zodiac: pisces

HYDRATION REMINDER #2: go and get yourself another glass of water!

47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: i don’t watch a lot of tv because we have amazon prime 49. Tattoos: i don’t have any. but, like with piercings, i really like the idea of it. i would want one on my right bicep of a planet, or something related to space, but i don’t think i would ever actually get it (mostly because i am not a fan of needles) 50. Right or left hand: i am right-handed 51. Surgery: i underwent surgeries when i was a baby because i was born two months premature. i don’t remember/have never really asked about the exact purpose of them, though 52. Hair dyed in different color: i have never dyed my hair, not even with a temporary hair dye, hair chalk, or kool aid 53. Sport: what is this sport you speak of?? haha i am a very lazy person, but i do go to the gym with my family 54. Vacation: i think my favorite vacation was during spring break this year. my family and i went on a road trip up to portland, oregon. we stayed there for a couple days. then we went on a day trip to vancouver, washington. after that, we went to san jose to stay at a friend’s. the next day, we went on a day trip to san francisco and the day after we went back home 55. Pair of trainers: i don’t know how to answer this question

MORE GENERAL: 56. Eating: i’m not eating anything at the moment, but i had cereal for breakfast 57. Drinking: i am currently drinking water 58. I’m about to: reblog some gifs of dan and phil probably 59. Waiting for: my mom to come home from work 60. Want: to be able to explore more of the world; go to more museums and bookstores; become a cultured person; be happy in life (and get a dog!!) 61. Get married: i really want to get married sometime in the future 62. Career: i’m planning on becoming a pharmacist as my career (because it’s sensible, financially-speaking) and write on the side/in my spare time (which is the more risky job)

WHICH IS BETTER: 63. Hugs or kisses: hugs 64. Lips or eyes: eyes 65. Shorter or taller: idk? i am a very short person (4’ 11.5”) so everyone’s taller than me. i wish i was at least in the 5’ range, but i don’t particularly mind being a small person 67. Older or younger: i guess older? but i am friends with people that are younger than me

HYDRATION REMINDER #3: yes, drink even more water!

68. Nice arms or nice stomach: nice stomach 69. Sensitive or loud: loud (to balance out my sensitivity) 70. Hook up or relationship: relationship 71. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER: 72. Kissed a Stranger: no, i’m too shy for that 73. Drank hard liquor: nope 74. Lost glasses/contact lenses: yes, and here’s the story behind it: my mom took us to a party thrown by her boss. they had a home theater, so my brothers and i spent the rest of the time in there. at some point, i took off my glasses and set them down. when we went to leave, i couldn’t find my glasses, anywhere. i never left the room except to go the bathroom, but i didn’t find them. i ended up buying new ones (which look better than the old ones) in december. last week, my mom came home from work with my old glasses. turns out, her boss found them under the seat. 75. Turned someone down: yeah 76. Sex on the first date: I’M ONLY SIXTEEN 77. Broken someone’s heart: sorta (it ties in with turning someone down) 78. Had your heart broken: no 79. Been arrested: nope 80. Cried when someone dies: i know this makes me sound soulless, but i have not cried when my family members died. i did grieve deeply, though 81. Fallen for a friend: the same person who sorta had their heart broken and was turned down by me

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 82. Yourself: yeah 83. Miracles: yes 84. Love at first sight: i do (this was intentional wording) 85. Santa Claus: as a kid, yes, but not anymore 86. Kiss on the first date: sure if the date went well

OTHER: 87. Current best friend name: alex 88. Eye color: a deep brown 89. Favorite movie: any disney movie or studio ghibli movie (but i do really like ratatouille and spirited away)

HYDRATION REMINDER #4: the very last one now that you’ve gotten to the end of this list! drink another glass! now you’ve at least met half of the daily goal in only the time it took you to read this post!

NOW, TAG 20 PEOPLE:

@philester // @wishes-and-stars // @philscurls // @studywitheva // @hufflepuffwannabe // @tbhstudying // @donthavetobebrave // @h2ostudies // @needacuddle // @dannyhowell // @cosyphan // @scholarc // @permanenthugfromyou // @studie-s // @studybrite // @miepeachy // @saturday-studying // @gradespiration // @studyrelief // @notesworthtea

*it’s all good if you don’t want to answer these! i honestly just went down my following list and tagged whoever came up. sorry in advance if i just come off as a creepy, random follower

#tagged #about me

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lifestyleforu-blog1 · 5 years

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Throughout history, the one sure thing that you could count on was that each era would have its own style of fashion. Today that continues, but now what was in style last year might not be this year, so you have to constantly stay up with the newest trends.

2019 is bringing with it a little of the old and a lot of the new. Here are 30 quick-fire women fashion tips you need to know if you want to look trendy and fashionable in the upcoming year.

1. Lingerie is for under your clothes

There was a thankfully short time period where it was considered hip to wear your bras visibly and let your panty lines show. In 2019, your lingerie should be where it belongs: under your clothes. When you buy panties and bras that fit right and have a good shape and design, they should be almost seamlessly underneath your pants or skirt. You know they’re there, but we can’t see them, and that’s as it should be.

2. You’re never fully dressed without a smile

This line may have been popular decades ago, but it still rings true. The best way to be fashionable and exhibit that radiant glow is to be happy and show off that natural smile.

3. You don’t have to shop designer to look good

With millions of people up to their eyeballs in debt, it’s not in style anymore to run up your credit cards to buy name-brand. Instead, you have thousands of discount options online at your fingertips. You can still buy designer, but shop around. Outlet stores, gently used thrift shops, and other opportunities are available for you to donate, sell, and purchase high-quality clothing at affordable prices.

4. Fill your wardrobe with smart clothes

Instead of a closet busting at the seams with clothing you’ll likely never wear, shop smart. Have a few basics on hand – jeans, versatile tops, a skirt, and shoes that go with everything. Then throw in some bold accessories, like a cute choker necklace, to add flair to your outfit.

5. Black is back

Sure, you want color in your outfits, and too much black is depressing, but if you use it right, black is a classy, elegant, slimming color that everyone should utilize. Wear the classic black t-shirt or slacks and finish your look with a colorful addition of a scarf or jewelry.

6. If a style doesn’t suit your body type, don’t wear it

Follow the rule: Just because you can wear something doesn’t mean you should. Learn what styles look good on you, what is recommended for your height and body type, and what you like, and then buy clothes that fit that pattern.

7. Prints are popular

Go for wild looks with animal prints, tie-dyed colors, fringe and crochet looks, and bright or bold colors.

8. Shop for comfort and style

The time for wearing six-inch stilettos because they make your calves look good is gone. Instead, in 2019 we know that what you wear and what you eat makes a difference in your physical and mental health, and styles that focus on looks over comfort are long-gone.

9. Go for the bulky belts

Accentuate your curves and waistline with a dark belt with decorative accessories.

10. Add a hat

No longer for the days when you ran out of the house late and didn’t have time to do your hair, caps and hats are a fun accessory to show off your face and play around with your favorite style!

11. Choose the right bra

There’s never a one-size-fits-all option for bras, and to complete your look, you need to wear a bra that fits you well. With all of the bra companies out there and the thousands of styles, you have no excuse for not finding the just-right bra for your body.

12. Don’t forget the classics

Every woman needs a denim jacket and a long, well-designed trench coat. You never know when they’ll come in handy for just the right look.

13. Scarves are the must-have accessory

There are a hundred different ways that you can add a scarf to your look, and you should learn them all. There’s a reason they were once the it-item for a woman’s style and they have come back around for 2019.

14. Know your skin-tone

Colors that look amazing on one person may not look so great on you. Certain colors can wash out your skin tone, making you look sallow or yellow. Be honest with yourself and what works and doesn’t. That cat-puke green may look bomb on someone else, but it just may not be for you.

15. Layer the right way

When you layer your clothes properly, they can be used to hide unflattering parts of your body or accentuate areas you would like to show off.

16. Plaid is not just for lumberjacks

Patterns like plaids, chambrays, and denim have been feminized to make beautiful clothing. Use these patterns in your shirt choices to add a flair to your outfit.

17. Reduce the urge to impulse shop

You may be dying for that one item you saw in the window or on your favorite designer’s site, but wait. It will go on sale, or you’ll find one just like it with a little research and time.

18. You must have a little black dress

Find that perfect LBD that fits you, shows off all of your curves, and makes you feel like a million dollars. Keep it in your closet, take care of it, and love it like you’ve never loved another clothing item ever, because it will save your fashion life.

19. Learn how to tuck appropriately

There’s an art to tucking in your clothes correctly. You should learn when to tuck, when to untuck, and when to partially tuck.

20. Less is more

When it comes to accessorizing and adding colors to your outfit, remember that less is more. Don’t throw in a hodgepodge of patterns and prints, multiple colors, or too many accessories.

21. Pick a color, any color

Choose a color that you want to show off for that outfit and focus on accessorizing to match that same color.

22. If you’re wearing leggings, does it right?

Fleece leggings should be in everyone’s wardrobe. They’re a go-to item for so many reasons! But no matter what kind of leggings you are going to wear, do it right. Leggings should always be paired with long, below the hip tops. And don’t forget tip #1 – hide your panties.

23. Keep a balance

Too much skinny or too much loose are no-nos. Keep a balance. If you’re wearing a flowing skirt, pair it with a tight shirt. Tight pants can go with looser shirts. Too much loose and you look like a balloon; too much tight and…you get the picture.

24. Don’t fold your pants

Folded jeans and slacks were in style in the 80s and 90s and that trend should stay there. Instead of folding to get the right length, get your pants hemmed. Your growth spurt is probably over by now, so you’re safe.

25. Focus on the details

Pay attention to the little things in your outfit. These tend to be the big things, like: are your pants zipped? Are your underwear or bra straps visible? Are there unintentional holes anywhere? Little things can mean so much but be overlooked when you are trying to add glam to your outfit.

26. be careful with white

Not everyone can pull off white. Moms of young children, for instance, tend to accidentally get splashes of color – like red spaghetti sauce – on their white shirts and pants. If you are brave enough to go with white, layer appropriately so that your underclothing are not visible. And you might want to carry some Tide with Bleach or an extra outfit in your bag just in case.

27. Go with vertical

Some people can pull off horizontal stripes. These people are probably aliens because it’s an incredibly impressive feat. If you are not sure whether you are one of these aliens or not and you must stripe, go with vertical to be safe.

28. Dress to match the seasons

It’s fun to go with the seasons! In fall, find those rich autumn colors to splash up your clothing. In the summer, find the breezy, laid back styles. Let the season dictate your fashion choices.

29. Not all dresses are created equally

Some dresses, no matter how gorgeous they are, just are not to be worn for a trip to WalMart. Save them for an evening out and stick with day dresses for running errands.

30. Show off your best assets

Learn what to show off and what to hide, what looks good on you and what to avoid, and you’ll always be in style.

A Healthy, Happy Woman is the Most Beautiful

Audrey Hepburn said that I believe happy girls are the prettiest girls. No matter how well-dressed you are, your soul will shine through and tell on you. Be healthy, be happy, and you’ll be beautiful in any fashion, in any era.

Author info:-

The author is loved to write different women fashion ideas and tips with the personal interest. This blog describe the women fashion tips in 2019. For more information about our best fashion blogs please visit our website www.leisuremartini.com and read our update blogs which are related to fashion.

#best lifestyle blogs for 20 somethings #best travel blogs to read

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