queenavedon-blog - Tumblr blog

[queenavedon-blog]

▲ fuck me up

send me a symbol for… // accepting // @queenavedon​

▲ - five times my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did. 

OO1. 

They meet in the Chase Space. A blonde girl arrives next to her mother in matching clothing and shoes that are too big for her feet. It’s obvious – even though she grew up on these linoleum floors, she struggles walking because of those heels. She looks like a doe, learning how to walk. Nathan’s lips curl up, and he almost laughs aloud but Kristine sends a hand moving downwards, hitting his side. 

Victoria keeps staring at Nathan through the entire negotiation.  ❛ What? ❜  He whispers, eyes narrowing. Sean stops talking to Mrs. Chase and looks at his son.  

❛ Nate, why don’t you take Vicky outside? ❜ 

He doesn’t want to, but Nathan has to. 

Outside, Victoria raises her shitty camera to capture a photo of some chrysanthemums planted outside of the art gallery. Nathan laughs, loud now, shaking his head.  ❛ Your composition is all wrong, ❜  he says, matter-of-factly, nose held high.  

❛ No it’s not, ❜  she says, not even turning her head to face him. Nathan can see her change her composition, though, silently. He takes steps to her, loafers clicking on the concrete, and grabs her camera. He clicks on the display. Nathan shakes his head.  

❛ No, like this – ❜  he says, moving his eye to the viewfinder and framing the flowers in a completely different way. Nathan snaps the picture, turning on the display and showing it to her. She looks at it for a while before grabbing her camera, pouting.  

❛ You don’t know what you’re talking about. ❜  

Nathan wants to kiss her. 

OO2. 

She sits in her bed, long hair tied into a bun on the top of her head. Dropping her phone to the side of her body, Victoria lets out the perfect sigh.  

❛ Why is Mark Jefferson so dreamy? ❜ 

Keep reading

[queenavedon-blog]

i shodnt have pregamed nate’s banger i already feel 

[queenavedon-blog]

hello seattle

     The wait is boring.

   Victoria tosses and turns for what feels like years, staring at the empty, cream-colored walls surrounding her. They used to be filled with posters and pictures, but she took them with her when she moved into Blackwell’s dorms. She’s scrolled through her Instagram and Twitter timelines to nearly three weeks back, watched every Snapchat story, and now she’s staring blankly at her wall, filled with an immense sense of boredom. 

   She puts both of her hands on her face and drags them down, letting out a groan. She’s impatient. Waiting for anyone feels like centuries to her.

   But waiting for Nathan? That felt like an eternity.

   Mostly because she hasn’t seen him since she left for Seattle with her parents. She missed him dearly, even though she texted or facetimed him on the daily. It’s been about three and a half hours since he told her he’d left, and since then, she was itching to leave, anxiously awaiting that ‘i’m here’ text. 

   She’d barely even asked for permission, just telling her parents she was getting picked up and leaving for a bit. They didn’t exactly care, they were just curious in who in god’s name was picking her up. She told them it was Nathan Prescott, and before further interrogation could take place, she shut her door again. 

   She’s listening to one of the countless playlists they’d created together, crossfaded out of their senses, and she can practically hear Nathan imitating the trilling noises to their favorite songs, and she laughs to herself. 

   The music fades out, and before the ding of her text message notification sounds, she’s lifting her Vera Bradley overnight bag and her phone, and sprinting out the door. Her parents don’t react to her running out, so she doesn’t even waste her breath on mustering a ‘bye.’

“Naaaate!”

   She drops her bag right in front of her driveway and squeals, running and jumping into Nathan’s arms (without warning) as he’s shutting his car door. She wraps her long legs around his hips and just squeezes him.

“I missed you,” she cries, the biggest grin on her face.

@cantfukinfite​

[queenavedon-blog]

@queenavedon

[queenavedon-blog]

LMAO wait really??????

@cantfukinfite

[queenavedon-blog]

i went to victorias dorm and she was wearing a shirt of mine i didnt even know i was missing

[queenavedon-blog]

stcrdcst:

And I’ve never been on a plane, so how would I know this?

after nathan just roasted me publicly i cant really continue to fake being 100% disgusted in it the snacks are fine so this conversation topic is a bust.

[queenavedon-blog]

remember when i promised not to watch rpdr without you? im breaking that promise bitch

[queenavedon-blog]

i agree with you there, even in first class.

queenavedon:

how bout that airline food.

Has the taste equivalent of fish. And I’m allergic to fish.

[queenavedon-blog]

cantfukinfite replied to your post: @stcrdcst hi.

no ur not ur a bitch

ok, stinky

[queenavedon-blog]

how bout that airline food.

@stcrdcst hi.

[queenavedon-blog]

@stcrdcst hi.

[queenavedon-blog]

fwiiippp. hhhhhh. thats the sound of me smocking we’d

smock we’d @cantfukinfite

[queenavedon-blog]

smock we’d @cantfukinfite

[queenavedon-blog]

until you smacked my sunburn and then i almost got back on the plane

i had a sign that said “miss chase” in the airport (i ripped a side off of a cardboard box and wrote it in marker) and victoria got SO emotional she totally cried

[queenavedon-blog]

❛ can't you just let me be happy for once?! ❜

   “What the hell, Nate?”

     She’s raising her voice, something she usually never does at him. Victoria is hurt by his words, and she’s making it known with her tone.

   “Is she the only source of your happiness now? Just because I said you should stay away from that leech doesn’t mean you have to be so pissy!”

[queenavedon-blog]

" Are you okay?"

     Her eyes remain fixated on the ground, and she doesn’t even give Max a glance. 

     She looks like hell. Her eyes are red and puffy from the tears she’d recently shed, and she hisses out a reply. She glances up, her eyes glaring in disdain for the brunette.

   “Screw off, Max. I’m not in the mood.”