#idk like the metaphor gets a little TOO metaphorical for me. but that’s just my onion. im an rgu fan so who am i to judge

[niceonejames7]

it's a pathetic feeling.

sirius black x reader

words: 1.1k

content: sirius and you both attempt pottery, and ofc he's better at it. not that you're complaining.

genre: fluff, pining(?)

cw: swearing(?), metaphorical self depreciation, if that makes sense. other than that, nothing

a/n: in honor of my baby's birthday<33

this is a repost, so if you've seen this pls forgive me, idk what happened to my old acc.

song mentioned: blue suede shoes by elvis presley

15 minutes ago, Sirius saw your hands mold the lump of clay that sits there now as he absentmindedly spins the wheel. He's thinking about how soft your hands were when he put them around yours, telling you cup your palm to create a bend, or when both his and your thumbs made shape into a bowl. He's thinking about how you offered your hands after finishing it, to scrape off clay, and he had taken his sweet time getting off the extra mud. He's wondering if you noticed, or if you thought he was obvious, or desperate. This train of thoughts pulled into a halt when you came in, shaking your hands to dry them.

Sirius isn't used to feeling shy, or vulnerable, or even desperate. If he wants something, he gets it. He feels pathetic when he wakes up early to make you coffee, so he can hear your voice first. Or when he brushes his teeth so you don't have to smell the cigarette on him. When your hands cup his face, every other time as a way of thanking him. It's his favourite form of thank you.

It's a sickening feeling, like someone is pulling down his heart further and  further deep, twisting it like a wet towel. His dirty hands give him excuses to keep busy, they're always trying to look for you. They always want to touch your arm, ruffle your hair, to hold your face, to have his thumbs run across your cheek. 

“What do you think?" You ask him, and he looks at the lumpy bowl in front of him. It's not his best, far from it, but he didn't let her change it. You made this, with him, that was enough to make it special. The strange tugging feeling hits him again, and he tells himself it's because it's your first attempt. “Stupid”, he mutters to himself. 

“It's great, my love.”

Your head tilts in amusement, a smile across your face, “This is useless Sirius, I'm gonna make another one.” 

You roll your eyes and reach to take the bowl, to mush it together when his hands stop you. “Don't you even dare.” He takes a thread to get it off the wheel, and carefully picks it up. 

“I will cherish this bowl you call useless forever,” he clutches the thing closer to his chest like a baby, but very gently, “Get away, you heathen.” Sirius says, all in his dramatic ways, as he flips his hair to walk off and set the bowl. 

A strange sensation erupts in your body, it's warm, and cozy, even though it's cold out, and your hands are wet, slightly covered in mud. You panic a little, this comforting feeling is too familiar, too easy to skip into. Too addictive.

You look at your muddied hands now, which you had cleaned just seconds ago. 

“I just washed my hands, dickhead.”

“Shouldn't have tried to ruin my masterpiece then.” He mutters quietly, but enough to let you hear.

You shake your head and find another piece of clay, and lay it down on the wheel. You spin the wheel, wet your hands and slowly start to mold the clay. Sirius comes back and sits down beside you, but as his hands reach yours you swat them away, “I'm doing this one by myself.”

Here goes his excuse. He doesn't protest, just sits there waiting, knowing you will ask for help.

As a shape starts to build, a crack forms down the side of the half crooked vase and a huff of annoyance escapes your lips. Sirius smiles and covers your hands and this time you let him.

It feels as if he's too aware of everything. The way your fingers fumble around his, or that your hair is too near his face, maybe you can hear his heartbeat. A faint feel of hot breath is evident on your neck and your shoulders, his usual scent more prominent because it's not covered by the cigarette smoke. Your breath is shallow as his arms are wrapped around yours.

The music Sirius had put on had now slipped into something light, and slow. All you wanted to do was squirm out of his grip, it was too much. You took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. You leaned back and relaxed against his chest. Your faces were touching now, lips so close and Sirius wanted to scream. Your hair was done up, your neck exposed and so close to his lips, it was driving him insane. 

“There you go.” Silent words come out his mouth like a whisper, as he detaches his hand from yours, eager to get as far as he can, this want in his chest was too much for him to bear. 

The anticipation hanging in the air is too much, too intense. “Thanks.”

And the one word answers aren't helping either. 

Sirius' eyes lock in with yours, and for just a few seconds it's silence. But then the music bursts out, “WELL, it's one for the money, two for the show,” and you both jump in your seats.

This time the second you and Sirius look at each other again, you're laughing your ass off. 

As the laughter slowly goes down, a new wave of it hits me an Sirius looks at me incredulously, followed shortly by his own amusement, and asks,

“What the hell?”

In fits of laughter you manage to get out,

“Did you hear Peter tried to make a move on Marlene?” You say, clutching your stomach,

“WHAT? No he did not.” His voice raises in incredulity, half laughing, half shocked,

“Yes, he did.”

You cannot speak anymore because it's hurting your stomach now, the situation being so funny as well as pitiful. The aprons you both wore were now dirtier than while you were actually doing pottery. 

“Poor lad, he doesn't have a chance.”

Both of you pant to catch your breath, when the doorbell rings.

“I'll go get it.” Sirius says, jogging towards the bathroom to wash his hands. You take the vase and carefully take it off and place it beside the lumpy bowl. 

An odd thought appears in your brain, where you compare it to Sirius and I. He's the vase and I'm the lumpy bowl, you think. The vase is clean, beautiful, perfect and smooth, and the bowl is everything opposite. It's a thought you cannot share with him, he will shut it down, and yell at you, all out of love, of course. You smile looking at your works and go wash your hands.

Sirius takes the food they ordered, pays the bill and sets it down on the kitchen table. Beside it, near the window, he sees their works. 

His eyes are fixed on the bowl. He decides he will paint it, and put it as a showpiece. “Maybe with green, that's her favourite color,” he thinks. The vase is fine, but the bowl is much too special for him. 

...........................

english isn't my first language so pls forgive any mistakes lmao

[i-may-be-an-emu]

the other day I watched Wine Under The Bridge again and had some. Thoughts.

Mainly about Troll-Father and Troll-Son’s dynamic and how the whole play can be interpreted as a metaphor for queerness

anyway uh here’s my long, unorganised observations and thoughts :)

troll son seems nervous to talk to his father and be around him (poor boy is so scared because he’s a “closeted” non-goat eater/wine drinker/maker)

troll father implies that he thinks “little floppy trolls with the colourful hair” aren’t “true trolls” (HMMMM THAT SOUNDS FAMILIAR)

“Do you want to be big like troll-father?? or do you want to be little and floppy forever.” - guilt tripping him, trying to make his son another version of himself.

Troll son seems to imply that he is little and floppy and he initiates the conversation about not eating goats, he wants to talk to troll father about it even though he knows he won’t understand deep down. (HE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT IT BUT HIS FATHER DOESNT GET IT)

“Your floppy hair is too colourful my boy” - troll father disapproves of floppy colourful trolls. He doesn’t seem mad just like he wants to change his son to be like him. He seems to think that being floppy and colourful = weakness (because his son won’t dare speak of his mother’s death) (HMM THINKING THAT PEOPLE WHO ARE MORE FLAMBOYANT(?) ARE WEAK HMMM OK OK)

“I want you to be big and tough like me”

Not being supportive of his wine idea and dissaproving

Calling him and seeing him as “goat son”

Troll father decides to exile him just for not eating a goat and wanting to try other foods and drinks

Troll father says “you have shamed me this day” he feels ashamed of his son (LIKE COME ON)

troll father gets upset with troll brother for being with a non-troll

he has a strong reaction to troll brother not confirming to seemingly conventional troll standards

Gets angry when troll brother says he eats food that’s not goat

But after learning about comfort zones seems to understand a bit more (HES LEARNINGGG)

“I chose to cut HIM out before he could cut ME out! Troll father feel safe inside!” Like just this quote, like- idk how to explain it but COME. ON.

“I maybe think there other way” (troll son challenging his fathers beliefs and saying there’s other ways. what if I just cry.)

troll son saying he’s been exiled hurts at first but then he becomes proud of it and keeps saying it (Oh gee being ashamed and hurt about something about yourself that people don’t approve of but then learning to be proud of it instead woah that sounds KINDA. FAMILIAR.)

troll father overhears him being proud and decides to not forgive him (even though there’s nothing to forgive) almost as though he was hoping to just forget about it all and ignore it, then he heard his son embracing it and knew that wouldn’t happen.

when troll father tastes the wine he says he tastes “being out of comfort zone” and accepts his son. Like. Idk. It makes me feel things.

troll father says he’s proud of troll son and that he’s “more troll than any of us” (LITERALLY WHAT IF I CRY. LIKE.)

Calls troll son beautiful when his colourful hair becomes apparent, learning to not only accept but to also love his son even though he’s different.

Also don’t even get me started on how the plot basically mirrors HTTYD. It’s so similar.

[eri-pl]

Ooooh. :) What an interesting topic to think of. (disclaimer: that is all purely for intellectual fun and not expected to fit with any real-world theology or anything also may contain peanuts.)

I am slightly surprised with your take on the Ainur (the accents, not the content) but yes, the fact that they existed before time makes it somewhat weird when you look at it too closely, but,... idk. Let's handweave it.

Maeglin is blamed on the Doom of the Noldor? I forgot that, that's interesting.

Yes, the non-Noldor, and early Noldor were not perfect, also, Miriel died and Finwë get this really strange for Elves thing when he fell in love again, and this was before the whole thing. "In some ways" is the key here, I agree. Like... they are not all-fallen-as-a-race but many of them seem kinda fallen. I think it's another case of Tolkien trying to do many things at various times and those things not working well together.

Also, you could say that the Dark Elves fell when they refused to go to Valinor, maybe? That would fix a lot. The Vanyar do seem non-fallen, unless you hc them to be jerks. And you could also blame the Teleri for waiting. This still leaves the pre-exile Noldor as an open question. But they do work with Melkor after his release….

Elves are tied to Arda, they are maybe more like the natural world, maybe their fall is very gradual, fuzzy... Men are more all-or-nothing than elves, I would assume. The Elves are connected to Arda, they are sort of grounded, maybe their corruption and the corruption of Arda is not fully separable. Yes, we're probably getting to stuff that normally would be a heresy, but idk it's a fantasy book and maybe we can see it as a metaphor for something.

Yes, Men are… Men. And hobbits are Men, but smol. And yes, the Shire is Tolkien's nostalgia wish-fulfillment land in a way.

The Dwarves are, I would say, not fully integrated in the narrative as a metaphysically-on-human-level race. They started off as monsters, like Orcs, and evolved among Tolkien's drafts and ended up a little unfinished. Other seemingly-posessing-souls creatures (Ents, Eagles if you don't see them as Maiar,..) are even more unintegrated.

I don't think I have a good explanation of the Dwarves, but also, with them we are working so far outside any framework we know…

I don't have much new thoughts to add, I'm sorry. It's just… What we are doing, what Tolkien tried to do is just jumping so much above out heads. (But also so interesting.)

OK, let me propose something: the Dwarves have both the "problem" of Men (die) and the "problem" of Elves (while alive, they're attuned to Arda). They just get un-attuned when they die. Somehow. Because Aulë made them in a way that was… well, he tried. I like Aulë.

So the Men are, in a way the only unfallen (except that they fell) race: they are the only ones that are not corrupted by the marring of Arda, because they are not connected to it so strongly, like they have a kind of filter? So… OK, we're getting to a place where I need to put my hc on a shelf to even be able to discuss that close enough to what Tolkien wrote or suggested. So I will not go into the details. Anyway the outcome is that they are fallen too, but they are fallen in a different way. From the inside.

And it seems the exiled Noldor may have this too? I'm not fully buying it tbh. But maybe that was Tolkien's intent about them. So they would be breaking both from the outside and from the inside. But they do not die. So, you are probably right, it's not the same thing.

Anyway, the marring is one thing and the fact that the Valar aren't working perfectlly either… it may be the result of the marring, it may be just the result of them being ...whatever to call it. But they do make mistakes, to mention the biggest: the whole Dwarves situation. I think this also has an impact on the state of the world.

The world is falling apart (just slowly) and the Men (and only them) would not be falling apart with it, except they do, just for a different reason. This makes no sense on many levels, probably, but makes some sense to me as a way to read the Silm. It fits with the theme of diminishing and fading and all that.

In which I puzzle over metaphysical implications as regards the peoples inhabiting Arda

fyi, a certain familiarity with the (predominantly Christian, I think) concept of fallenness/unfallenness is assumed, although it turns out that it doesn't necessarily work here. Feel free to ask for clarifications

So. I'm once again wracking my head as I try to make sense of what I shall call: 'metaphysical states' of elves, men and others, because the subject is emphasised and lampshaded a lot in the books, and I can't force it all to make sense when taken together.

Ainur are a specific case and I should really leave them aside for now. They certainly can fall — and, unlike angels, change their mind, apparently (which goes both ways) — although they do seem to be more all-or-nothing than everyone else. Still, I think as long as one doesn't go into the implications of time and what its existence or nonexistence changes, they're almost straightforward. But then you have:

Elves. The 'Fall of the Noldor' is very strongly emphasised as a metaphysical fall from grace and further evils, even ones unconnected with the matter of the Silmarils themselves, are blamed on it later (Maeglin!) So far so good. Except. Non-Noldor are also liable to behave in ways that are not exemplary in the slightest, and it doesn't seem to signify a cesura in the same way — and the Noldor in Valinor were able to commit acts that perhaps weren't as heinous as what we call crimes, but weren't good either. Getting into rancid fights with your brother isn't much in comparison, but these are not the actions of unfallen people.

And on the other hand, authorial quote (paraphrased): "Elves in some ways represent Man in an unfallen state". And I'm inclined to agree: they aren't subject to death (except they may be killed, so doesn't this already break down?), and there is something very poignant in the image of their artistry, "extempt from earthly limitations". But they do not lose it, not in any easily tangible way. We can argue that evil diminishes creativity and it's probably true, but there is no hard line anyone passes. And this is again lampshaded in-world with the Númenoreans ("If we die because of some darkness that lay on us before, than why don't the Noldor?").

Which brings us to Men. The existence of a direct cause-effect relationship between fallenness and mortality in Arda cannot be ascertained (Even taking into account a Catholic framework, I feel that logically it need not be the same relationship as the Biblical one since, in contrast with the Garden of Eden, the world was already marred when humans appeared). While I consider the Tale of Adanel to be Gondorian in origin, I can also see the possibility that whatever Men did back then, beyond memory (or in other words "we purposefully forgot") was just that much worse than Alqualondë and the Oath. In any case, Man is very straightforwardly Fallen.

Hobbits. The rules for Halflings are presumably the same as for Men, which is certainly notable, given that they seem to be the least inclined to evil of all incarnates. Not perfect, not by a long shot, but unknowing of wars and violence. A pastoral image, only in-world it's true.

And at the same time, my musings bring me to the unexpected conclusion that dwarves are the only notable "generally unfallen" kindred. Which is, in context of everything that regards them, weird — because by their actions, they are very similar to Men. And yet — either the circumstances of their creation make them disadvantaged from the start (which doesn't really make that much sense), or something happened off-screen, or it's the same case as Saeros, or Thingol sending Beren to his death.

Ents? I honestly don't know if we've seen enough of ents to judge, although they seem generally good-inclined? Huorns are a different kettle of fish.

Before I try to explain orcs, it would do well to know what they are exactly.

In other words, I cannot make sense of it all, enough that I've resorted to calling the default state of incarnates in Arda "semi-fallen" (or, as is, "semi-unfallen"). Which is not a thing that makes sense, philosophically speaking — but I can find no better way.

(Although, to be quite honest, the default state of being in Arda (because of the discord?) seems to be significantly different from the unfallen state of Man as described by religious thinkers in some ways, and not all of them regard merely such things as physical marring, so perhaps "semi" isn't the worst way to describe it.)

In any case, if someone has thoughts on the subject, I'm very open to hearing them.

[nayruwu]

I wont lie, guren, shinya and mahiru as mlp ponies sounds awesome

i finished them!! yay!!! the catastrophic trio as fucking My Little Pony characters, featuring unnecessarily detailed cutiemarks. 🐎

please welcome with me, Guren as Crimson Lotus,

Mahiru as Midday,

and Shinya as Deep Night. (i guess he could've also been Midnight, but the little pastel ponies often seem to have double names)

i'm just kidding. of course i made him one anyway.

this would have been massively easier (and quicker...) if i had just drawn them as actual mlp style ponies, but horse anatomy is just too gnarly, i couldn't resist. i like horses. sigh.

either way, i think it's awesome how you can just translate their names into english, and BOOM, you have a pony name.

[even-disco-baby]

YOU — “No. There is still a chance.”

DOLORES DEI — “You think so?” Her voice is weary.

EMPATHY — Everything about her is weary. She is the Innocence of weariness, of heroically borne suffering.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That is the picture you have painted for yourself, at any rate.

YOU — “You looked back. That’s the memory, the moment, that I can’t stop returning to. You looked back. I had a chance, for just that moment…”

DOLORES DEI — She meets your eye, gaze still forever cast back over her shoulder. Time stops. The stars are stilled, the ocean silent. There is *nothing* beyond this memory. Nothing at all. All of infinity is contained in this single moment when anything and everything was possible.

“Oh, Harry…” She sighs, soft as eiderdown. “We never had any chance.”

And just like that, the wave of time collapses under its own weight, obliterating everything. This moment was six years ago. She is gone from here. Gone, gone…

PAIN THRESHOLD — You cannot leave. There was nothing outside of this moment, and now there is nothing at all. It’s all gone. There is no point. I’m sorry. I can’t do this any longer.

VOLITION — Please, don’t say that…

“Okay. Well, fuck me, then.”

“How would *you* know?! You gave up! You didn’t even try!”

“We *must* have had a chance, at some point… Doesn’t everyone get a chance, if nothing more?”

“How could you say that…?”

DOLORES DEI — “Because it’s true,” she says, matter-of-fact. “There is no moment in time that you can turn back to, no branching paths, no infinity. There is only what happened. I looked back… and then away.” She closes her eyes, turning her back to you.

“The moment ended. *We* ended. That is all.”

SHIVERS — A wave crashes against an unseen shore, ocean spray tickling the back of your neck. You shiver, but no one shivers with you. You are alone in this intersection. Why are you here?

“Why can’t *I* end?! Why can’t this all just stop? Please, make it stop…”

“Ended? I’ve barely even started! I got a chance to start completely over as somebody new! I don’t need you anymore! You’re just dead weight to me now.”

“No. That wasn’t the real ending. We’re a part of something so much bigger than this intersection, telling a story that encapsulates all of history! There’s *more* to this, it *means* something.”

“Then… What am I supposed to do now…?”

DOLORES DEI — “No, Harry.” She turns back to you again now, and she looks… sad.

“We were not metaphors. We were people. Our narrative was not intelligently designed. It simply followed the patterns of history, because those are the only patterns we *know.* We tried to create something new, but we failed. There is no narrative reward for our failure, no satisfactory ending. There is only the immutable past and the unknowable future.”

RHETORIC — There is no assurance of what is good or deserved or what may bring relief. There is no assurance of punishment, either. There is no assurance of anything. Not even of a future. I don’t know what to say to make this bearable.

VOLITION — Even so… As long as you live, *something* is promised. Can you live with that?

I can’t, I just can’t do this anymore…

I can. It’s enough.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I can at least try for a little longer…

VOLITION — That’s all I ask. That’s enough.

[vynnyal]

Unga bunga these take 3 hrs to make

[ruvviks]

toying with the idea of making yancey's friends not real. would that be too evil

[304wv66]

10.20.2023 // gonna get bit by that thing

also bonus crop from the desktop wallpaper because i liked it, it made me happy 🥺

[eightspringdays]

Just saw a TikTok complaining about fanfics that didn't have "enough dialogue" because "reading more than three sentences" was hard.

I'm not against heavy dialogue-oriented fics; they are fun, but... that's a script. You want to read a fucking script, hope you know that. A writer isn't "bad" because they are... you know, writing. Just say it isn't your thing and move on, but categorize something as "bad" because you lack the ability to fucking read... ain't the author's problem; it seems like a "you" one.

[captainshyguy]

i do wish that people hadnt been so rabidly critical and vicious towards steven universe back in the day, because now it feels like u cant discuss any parts of the show u didnt like without getting lumped in with those guys lol

[okcoolthanks]

How to stop feeling like an awful person after accidentally crossing someone’s boundary even though you talked to them about it and apologized and know you won’t do it again and they understood it was an accident and it’s fine and you two are still on good terms

[wheeboo]

laundry day | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem) GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!! - #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow." - #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!

join the 2k celebration!

You are so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?

You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.

Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.

Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"

He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.

Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"

The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.

Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"

"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋

"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."

You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.

"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.

"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"

You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?

You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.

A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."

His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."

Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?

"No."

"Or it can't be postponed?"

"Nope."

"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"

"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.

Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"

"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."

Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.

"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."

"You're cute."

"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"

Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.

"I said you're really dumb."

That is not what he said.

For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?

Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.

"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.

Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.

The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.

"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."

You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"

You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.

"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"

"𑁋because I'm cute?"

"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."

You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."

"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.

You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."

Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.

You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.

"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."

Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.

"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."

"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."

Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"

"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."

A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."

You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."

another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

[mintwithchoco]

What You Need

tripleS Yooyeon x Male Reader

Word Count: 3260 words

Categories: smut, oral, facial, dom-ish!yooyeon (?) idk, she's just desperate to get that d

Inspired from;

“My go— Yooyeon! We’re still filming, we can't do this!”

“Shut up.”

There's nothing that can stop Kim Yooyeon from getting what she needs. She may seem cold and calm on the outside, but once an interest is sparked within herself, she'll do whatever it takes to reach it, no matter the situation. 

You know that you’re fucked all around when she sends you that look from afar a few minutes ago. Might as well blame it all on her at first for wearing that pink top, showing off her tight figure so well, forcing you to never peel your eyes away from her. She's bold and relentless, and it shows by the way she’s metaphorically fucking you with her eyes while filming, and you can only curse silently behind the camera, catching the secret message. It can only get worse from here on out (or better actually) as once she gets out of the frame, she walks past you quickly while whispering, “Fuck me, now.”

She slams the door shut as soon as she gets you inside the cramped bathroom. Before you can do anything to resist, she forcefully closes the distance between your lips by wrapping her arms around your neck. If you wanted to, you could just break out of her embrace and run out of the door. Instead, you have been poisoned by the emanating warmth of her body, the softness of her skin touching yours, and the sweetness of her lips, making you fall deeper and harder into her.

“Yooyeon—” She doesn't let you speak in the downtime of the makeout, dragging you back in as soon as she gets air in her lungs. “We can’t—”

“Don’t fucking lie. I know you’re craving for me too.”

You recoil at her undeniable statement—that voice is dripping with way too much arousal. “What if someone hears us?”

“I know, but, please,” Yooyeon’s hands rest on your shoulders. “Just for a while. I really need you.”

Fuck, she really knows how to make you submit. Those bright brown orbs, begging for her needs are crumbling your morals apart, inviting you to commit this wicked act that can potentially end everything you have in life. But if it does come to an end, I guess ruining your career with a pretty lady such as her isn't as bad as it seems, right?

“Damn it,” She shrieks when your hands scoot over her butt and squeeze them gently. “Let's make it quick, and quiet.” 

You overlook her cute little smile as your lips crash into hers again. The tides have now turned around with hunger filling you up almost immediately, overpowering the girl’s lust, evident by the way you’re aimlessly caressing every single part of her. Fear runs through your veins due to her moaning resoundingly into your mouth, afraid that the muffled noise would alarm anyone close by. Though, it was quickly diminished by her delicate fingers groping the raging tent on your lower half.

“Mmm, you’re so fucking hard already.” Her tone is now deeper than before, and it arouses you even more.

You try your best to control your ragged breaths as the pressure is building up in your bulge. “You’re the one to blame. God, you look so pretty.” 

Another thing’s for certain is that you are addicted to leaving your marks all over Yooyeon. You generously land kisses on her neck nonstop while slowly sliding the straps off her shoulders. She giggles away, but also does the equivalent to you by slipping her hand down into your pants and continues her massage through the fabric of your boxers. Unfazed by this, you yank down her top to reveal a white bra, and you waste no further time to knead the covered breasts. Her soft gasps are like a muse to your ears, enthralling you more. Yooyeon is obviously weakening under your touch as her attempt to pull down both your pants and boxers fails as it only comes off halfway. 

Yooyeon’s expressions are fucking up your whole self entirely. You eventually finish off what she wanted to do, letting your cock feel the humid air in the bathroom. She feels the warm shaft throbbing in between her thighs, already leaking out with precum. While you reach behind to release her boobs from its fancy confines, her fingers are quick to wrap around your shaft and stroking it to full hardness. The white undergarment then drops to the tile floor, joining in the built up pile of your clothes.

Her husky voice rings in your ear once again. “Sit down. I wanna taste you.” 

The toilet is turned into a makeshift seat as you oblige to her request, sitting down on the cold surface. She quickly kneels down in between your legs, the raging shaft is now right in front of her breathtaking visual. You can never imagine that this innocent goddess would be a vixen in disguise, the one who triggers your hormones into this sexual overdrive. The contrasting thought has been completely erased however, as Yooyeon begins her oral teasing on your tip, drawing small circles while collecting your precum on her tongue.

“Holy shit—” is all you can utter when Yooyeon wraps her lips around the cockhead, finally getting a feel of her warm mouth. She starts slow and small, only taking in your tip momentarily before building herself up to take you in deeper. With her hands stroking your thighs, your sensations are heightened, the extreme pleasure shivering down your spine forces your head to unwillingly fall backwards.

And if that wasn't enough, she draws you in with her words. “Keep your eyes on me.”  

You muster up the will to look down, and you have never been more than grateful to witness Yooyeon doing wonders to your cock. Showing no signs of slowing down at all, this girl is filling up her wet cavern with the entirety of your length, her cheeks puffing up whenever she brings it to the sides of her mouth. You find it rather cute somehow, but it doesn’t falter the groan that leaves your lips every time she sucks you hard, and releases you by the tip. 

Her tongue rests on the underside of your shaft, vigorously licking it up to the head, and down to the base. She takes you in for the second time, and this time she's not holding anything back. Her head bobs furiously at a gradual pace on your shaft, making it fully covered with her saliva. The way her mouth perfectly envelopes with the shape of your cock is agonizingly pleasurable and mysteriously fascinating, as she never seems to gag whenever you hit the back of her throat, only leaving a great amount of spit when she disappointingly leaves your shaft.

“I can suck on this all day. It's so perfect.” The unexpected compliment compels your cheeks to turn slightly red.

Your eyes are blessed with the sight of Yooyeon’s handiwork; fingers delicately running up and down your lubricated shaft and her oral fixation; swirling her tongue around the swollen cockhead. While your whole soul is tearing apart when her dazzling orbs lock upon yours, pairing it with that small smirk and nose scrunch, her visuals clearly contradicting the sinful work she's doing. It goes to show how much she's enjoying herself, the desire that has been building up for the past couple of days finally breaks apart, thanks to her resilience.

You couldn't handle it anymore, plus your time is getting much thinner. Your hand creeps up to her chin, and you lean over to catch her lips amidst her strokes, sharing multiple kisses. As you suck on her lower lip, you slowly guide her into your lap. Your cock brushes against her midriff, which in return emits a low moan from Yooyeon, realizing that her clothed vagina is in the close proximity of the pulsating length. 

“Get this off me please.” 

Easier said than done. You’re too busy leaving kisses all over her neck, taking in all of her floral scent and having a hand full from squeezing her tits and tweaking her nipples. Nonetheless, the free hand manages to remove her shorts by pulling down on different parts of it. You didn't bother taking off her matching panties however, as it is deemed essential in her disheveled look. 

You let out a satisfied breath. “Fuck, I can't get enough of you.” 

With a steady grip on her waist, you dive your face into Yooyeon’s chest and engulf her right nipple into your mouth. Your hardness throbs upon the whine she lets out while your tongue does its best to stimulate the brown nub. The left side deserves some love as well, and a set of fingers playing around it is enough to induce an effect. Her small moans are being played into your ears directly, and it motivates you to worship this goddess to the fullest. You feel her hand pressing your head further in as you switch sides of your gratifying assault, this time attacking her left nipple in a similar way. 

“Mmmh, fuck! More, I nee— ohh yes, you’re so fucking good.” God, everything that she does never fails to make you swoon.

The heat in between her thighs could not be ignored anymore, and you know just the right way to deal with it efficiently. By bringing her body closer to yours, your cock makes contact with her crotch, and it drives the both of you to cloud nine. You soon realize how soaked her panties really is—it wasn't hard to make her grind against your shaft. The slickness from earlier’s blowjob really adds to the mixture of pleasure, as each sway of her hips is met with audible squelches. The dopamine courses quickly throughout both of your bodies, and it intrigues you to fall deeper into her sinning.

Yooyeon shrieks when your fingers pull her panties to the side, exposing her glistening pussy to you at long last. Even through the really tight space in between your bodies, your eyes manage to send the image of her lips fully covered in her juices, and dripping down on your cock to your brain. Continuing her hips rhythm onto yours is her breaking point of being discreet, as the skin-to-skin sensation makes her shamelessly spit out every curse words that she knows. 

“Please, please, please, just— oh!” Yooyeon’s desperation is cut off when you tease the opening to her hole with your tip. 

You really want to break her apart furthermore, but your rational thought comes forward in the heat of the moment, as you automatically place a finger on her lips. “Lower your voice, don’t want anyone to hear us.” 

Yooyeon snarls, “Fuck that, let them hear us if they want to. All I need is you inside me. Now.”

There's not a single resistance, let alone purity nor innocence left. Sinners are what both of you are, drowning into the depths of eroticism, unable to rise back up to the risks of reality. You grab the base of your cock steadily, carefully letting it glide on her lips to slightly spread them apart. Holding onto your shoulders, Yooyeon prepares herself mentally and physically to take in all of you, although her body is trembling just from your teasing. It didn’t take long for you to penetrate her pussy with just the first few inches, and it sent both of you to heaven in an instant.

“Fuuuuck…” Yooyeon cries out as her tightness surrounds you the lower her hips descend. Halfway inside her walls renders you to bury your head in her neck, its wetness and warmth is truly remarkable. The pleasure elevates when you feel her fluids leaking onto your crotch once you’re fully buried deep in her.

“You’re so fucking tight, oh my god.” You moan into her ears, before your hands familiarize itself with her slim waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Enchanted by your words, Yooyeon grinds her hips as much as she can, squealing in delight even in the smallest of motions. Her walls continue to constrict you with all its might, yet the pain only drives you into wanting more. And that’s exactly what the goddess did, as she began bouncing onto your lap in a slow rhythm. Gripping on her thighs and planting both feet harder to the floor, your hips began to move in a different wavelength than hers, forcing her to take a considerable amount of your length inside.

“You're— fuck, so big, so fucking big! Harder!” 

If it wasn’t for the loudness, it's possible that someone may have noticed the suspicious amount of time this room has been occupied. That thought wasn’t in any of your heads whatsoever—breaking it off right now would be meaningless. The risk of being caught in this moment is rather thrilling, and it certainly helps the pressure that’s been building inside you to grow.

“Yesyesyesyesyes!” Her screams resonate within the tile walls. Immediately, you muffle them with a passionate kiss before she gets even more vocal.

Yooyeon has truly lost herself. She doesn't even notice the way her hips are driving faster and harder, her filled pussy continuously seeping out her juices. It’s a breathtaking view from any angle that you can catch with your eyes. Looking up from her ethereal yet depraved expressions, down to her divine body jiggling with each thrust, to the point of impact on both of your crotches—it would be a shame for you to not let out your deepest groans to make her truly understand how you feel.

A sense of dominance comes across your mind. You own her as a whole, and no one deserves her more than you. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop. Fucking cum for me.”

You don’t intend to slow down. As your hips begin pushing up into her roughly, Yooyeon tightens the embrace around your shoulders while profusely moaning into your ears. Eventually, your tip hits deep inside a certain area in her pussy, prompting her body to jerk violently. You stay there for a while before fucking into the same spot once again, this time with much more intensity, sending multiple streams of pure dopamine into the angel who has been tainted with lust.

“Fuck, please, please, make me cum! I wanna cum all over you!” 

Your shirt is now soaked in sweat, but that doesn’t deter your adrenaline in the slightest. The force of your thrusts continues to rock Yooyeon’s petite frame, and you gratify her need to reach her climax by latching your lips on her erect nipples anew, the right one being the first. You expertly divide your attention on both tits, and your tongue swirls around them swiftly, letting you taste the saltiness of her sweat. The mix of slick friction on her lower half, the tenacious teasing on her chest and the wordless groans she lets out is enough to lead her into the well-deserved orgasm.

“I’m cumming, oh god, I’m cumming!”

One powerful thrust followed by a high pitched scream, and she explodes on contact. The massive gush of her nectar washes all over your crotch and thighs instantly, while her pussy torturously contracts around your cock, releasing everything that she has. As her body becomes weaker throughout her peak, your thrusts into her haven't died just yet—you’re yearning for the same high that she reached. The wetness escalates, as her squirting prolongs itself to stain your shirt and your seat below. 

Still shaky from her climax, Yooyeon struggles to speak up, but her point was acknowledged. “A-Are you c-close?”

You simply nod, and in some way, she manages to come back to her senses to get off from your lap and sink down on her knees, just like earlier. Without any warning, she shoves your cock into her mouth once more, taking away your breath and compelling you to lean against the toilet tank. Her head bobs with precision, not going too deep nor too shallow, but close enough to keep you on this euphoric flow. The unanticipated head is proven to be the consequent snap to your own release, apparent by the excessive heaving of your chest and the twisting tension in your stomach.

“Oh my god, Yooyeon!” You groan out loud just as Yooyeon stuffs you deep in her orifice, her spit drenching you all over and your tip hitting the back of her throat. She withdraws from you with a gasp, and strings of drool trails itself from her lips to your shaft. Her fingers wrap around you straight away, moving back and forth expertly, assisted by the tormenting slurps on its underside. 

“Fuck, you look so adorable moaning away like that.” She means it well, given by the increased pace at her strokes, licks and sucks on your member. 

There’s nothing that can turn both of you away now. She’s getting what she needs, and you’re on the brink of manifesting it to reality. “Shit, Yooyeon, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cover my face, please? I want it all over me.”

Her gaze full of admiration and wonder is the last thing you see before your vision becomes a blurry mess and your vocal cords let out a shattered grunt, marking it as the last step over the edge to your release. In a split second, long streaks of white cum spurt out of your cock, painting all over the godly facial features of Kim Yooyeon. The hot semen marks its territory on her sharp nose, her flushed cheeks, her closed eyes and most importantly, her slightly ajar mouth.  

As the last few drops land upon her chin, you take in the beautiful mess that you have created. You wish that you could save this deep memory—or rather, engrave it into your brain somehow of Yooyeon’s gorgeous look, completely covered in a coating of your semen, and it eventually drips down to her breasts and shoulders. It is truly a magnificent sight to behold, and you can never ask for anything better.

“Wow…” you weakly mutter while Yooyeon sucks the remains of your cum out of your tip. On top of that, she swipes some of the mess on her face with her fingers and licks it off cleanly to get a proper taste of you.

“Delicious.” Yooyeon responds with a hearty giggle. “Thank you, darling. This is what I really need.”

The cleanup didn’t take very long, as the essentials for it are already arranged in the room. Yooyeon quickly settles herself, so in order to avoid any suspicions, you ask her to join in with her members first. She agrees, and leaves you with a sweet kiss on your cheek before going outside.

Although Yooyeon is able to sneak out the door silently, a tall figure creeps up behind her unnoticed.

“What were you doing in there?” Yooyeon jumps in shock and looks behind towards the well-known voice.

Her nervousness was blatant. “Uhh, I had a really bad stomach ache—”

“I saw everything unnie. You didn’t lock the door.”

Yooyeon sighs and facepalms herself for her recklessness. “Shit. Don’t tell anyone please! I’ll do anything!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She smirks. “But you need to keep a secret for me too!”

“What are you— Hey!” She runs off into the bathroom before Yooyeon could say anything further. “Aish, this girl…”

While you take your sweet time in cleaning up and recovering yourself, the door suddenly opens up. 

“Excuse me, is this where I get to fuck?”

Your eyes widen upon the unexpected encounter. “X-Xinyu?!”

===========================================

note; now THIS is a fucking BFH. goodness gracious, yooyeon fucked me up in so many ways with these pictures.

i did kept my promise of having a longer story this time, even though this was definitely not in the plans LMAO but yeah, next one will be much more longer, more epic and definitely, more seggs. shoutout to @chunksworld for the quick beta read!

like always, thank you so much for reading, hope you guys enjoyed this one, and have a flawless day! <3

[koishua]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ━━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

genre: angst.

length: less than 0.600k words

caution: a take on grief and loss of someone close to you.

synopsis: he dies twice, yet his heart still beats painfully.

special thanks to my beloved, the sexc sexc talented incredible brilliant showstopping user @torhues for biting the bullet and taste testing this for me!! mayhaps my brain twin, despite our opposing opinions on hee's suffering. confirmed this is the only genre i can write

feedback and reblogs are desperately craved <3

lee heeseung has died twice in the long and arduous twenty-two years of his life. once, he had died when he'd lost his voice, abandoned and left stranded in a world where all people ever expected from him was that exact thing. the second time— the second thing he'd lost— had been the greater piece of his being.

his first death was somehow less painful than the second. it had been quicker to mellow out, the pain easier to soothe when you were there. heeseung experienced his first death with you by his side, holding his hand and sharing his tears. dreams he'd built, the work of what seemed to be his entire life. his first death felt much like a bullet did. 

it burned, seared, bled and struck him faster than he could blink. the death of an artist's ability to create should have crippled him, and yet, it hadn't. you'd been right by him, held his wound and breathed air into him. you were his second life.

and you were, subsequently, his second death.

this one had hurt much more than the first. heeseung would come to describe this as the moment his heart and flesh had been ripped away from him, his soul following suit. that, however, would not be enough to describe how it truly felt. the second time was so, so much more than just a death.

this one, this one was not as merciful as the quick bullet that was the loss of his most beloved possession and passion. this death was a loss of his entire reason for living. this time, the pain hadn't ebbed away as easily. this time, the pain had settled deep inside his chest, an ache damned to stay there for as long as the heart buried inside of him would beat, no matter how cold and blue the blood that ran in his veins seemed. this pain would leave him paralyzed, the fight in him lost, not even bothering to claw for the air and oxygen his lungs desperately craved. 

his second death had suffocated him from inside out. still, his blood, cold and blue, continued to run through his veins and somehow still functioning heart. you were his second attempt at life and you were his second death. you still haunt the corners of his mind, still hold a hand on his throat, each thought of you making your ghostly grip on him tighten to the point where he nears the edge of no return (he doesn't fight you back— doesn't have the heart to, when all he wants is to follow where you've gone to).

lee heeseung had died twice in the twenty-two years of his life, but had never been able to live for the third time. how could he? he'd lost himself in the waves right after you'd left. years would pass by and he'd still wonder if up was down and down was up. he was a man, once with eyes that shone as bright as the stars you'd point out to him at night, who'd been reduced into someone you'd be heartbroken to see if you were around. lost between a plane where nothing but your touch, your lips, your smile, and your laugh existed and the colourless world that his body continued it's daily affairs in. eyes unseeing, skin unfeeling, ears unhearing— his second death took something much, much more precious to him than his life.

lee heeseung's second death had taken away his soul; you were so cruel for doing that to him.

[scarletwinterxx]

this is how you fall in love - jeon wonwoo imagine

idk what to say except wonwoo is such a precious precious precious human🥺 i hope you're happy everyday, wonu🤍

i hope you like it!

alsooo if anyone want to be mutuals on X, i'm using the same un there😊

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

When you say your life turned technicolor when you started dating Wonwoo, you meant it both literally and metaphorically. Before him, life for you was black and white. A 24 hour rotation of the clock.

To put it simply, you just lived life as it is.

It's still a mystery to you how you manage to land yourself a wonderful boyfriend like him, there are moments it doesn't feel real. How could it be when your man looks and acts like he stepped right out of a fairytale book specially written for you.

"Hey pretty, I got something for you"

He swears gift giving isn't his love language and he knows you don't like getting such grand gifts, but time to time he brings home little trinkets that reminds him of you or something cute that he thinks you'll like.

Just the other week he got you shoes that matches the one he has, but yours was in pink. Very cute, you told him. He remembered you telling him you needed new shoes but couldn't decide what to get, you saw the pink version of his' and thought about getting those but you never got to doing so.

So a few days after that, he surprised you. The smile you had on was worth every dollar he spent. You even went on a walk with your matching shoes on.

Today it's something else. This time it's a cute yellow hair pin, perfect match to the scrunchie he got you before.

"You know my favorite color is purple, right?"

He chuckles at your question. Of course he knows. At this point there's little he doesn't know about you, from your little quirks, to your pet peeves to all your favorite, he have those all listed in his mind like his own commandments.

It also happens to be his favorite color too, so that helps

"I know, I just pick that one so I can easily spot you" he takes the seat beside you on the couch, throwing his arm on the back of the couch making you rest your head against him.

"Huh?" you ask, looking at him

"Just when I don't wear my glasses, everything else is blurry but atleast I can see the color. That way I know it's you" he smiles, playing with the yellow scrunchie on your wrist

"So you're telling me, you keep getting me yellow stuff so you could see me?"

He nods

You look at him before a smile breaks out of your face, taking Wonwoo's cheeks between your hands to squish them. Cuteness aggression taking over.

To some, Wonwoo might seem like a cold person, very nonchalant but that's the exact opposite. If you get to know him more, he's a big softie and likes to play practical jokes every now and then. One of the many things that made you fall in love with him was how easy it was to smile when you're with him.

Falling for him didn't feel scary. From your past relationships it always felt like a part of you was lost, like you're not you're own person anymore. But with him, it's different.

Wonwoo let's you be you. You feel loved just by being you.

"What got you thinking, pretty? Lost you for a second there" he whispers

"Just.. things"

"Want to share?"

It's cute he still asks, even after dating for some time he still asks if you want to share whatever thoughts you have in your mind instead of just making you say it. From day 1 he let you set the pace, no matter how slow or how fast you want to go he'll be right beside you happily holding your hand.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, cradling your face in his hands and you think this is where you feel the safest, the most secure.

"Just you, still wondering what I did in my past life to deserve you"

He shakes his head, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. "I should be the one asking you that. I'm just happy I get to love you like this"

He watches you watch him, he knows you're still having an internal debate. Thoughts bouncing around in your head, sometimes that happens and he's always there to shut any doubts.

"You love me, correct?" he asks, you quickly utter a confirmation making Wonwoo smile

"You said, anything I love you'll learn to love too. Correct?" he asks again, you nod at his question

"I love you, more than anything in this universe. I love even the tiny flaws you think you have. To me, all those things are just... you. These cheeks? I love seeing them the moment i open my eyes in morning, pressed against the pillow making you look like a sleeping angel. These hands? I love how they hold me, keep me grounded when it gets too loud. Your laugh, especially the one that don't sound like anything because you're laughing too hard and you're so happy I cant help but smile too and make me want to make you laugh like that everyday."

He holds your hand in his, eyes looking straight into yours as he says the words. Each and every one of them is the truth and nothing but the truth.

"You, all of you I love. This mind, the one that keeps you up at night, makes you worry about the future that have yet to come and everything that could go wrong, I love that too. That's you, you and your nagging, your ups and downs, your mood swings and bad days. I'd have it all" He frees your hand so he can reach up to flatten the crease between your brows. You feel his fingertip ever so gently land on your forehead.

"Just once, even for a second I wish you see yourself through my eyes and know just why I look at you the way I do. If only you can feel what I feel because there isn't any word in any language to express it. Not yet anyways" he breathes out.

Before you, Wonwoo's life was monochromatic. Like a black and white silent film. And when he met you, that's when it all changed. He started to laugh a little louder, smile a little wider. You're the color of his life, not the overwhelming kind of color but instead the exact hues he loved.

"Do you ever feel overwhelmed with how you feel about me?" you ask him. He can hear the genuine wonder in your voice, instead of sugarcoating it for you he tells the truth because he would never know how to lie to you.

"Sometimes, I overthink too" he lets out a chuckle before continuing "Like what if one day I become too much, but I can't help it. I just want to do everything for you. Sometimes, I feel down. I don't want to make you feel that too so I just..." he trails off

He didn't need to say anything else for you to understand.

"Then will you tell me if you're having bad days too? I can take it." you tell him

"Love, I-" he pauses "I'm sorry. I know I'm not the most vocal person, I just don't want to burden you with my problems" he breathes out. His hold on you tightening.

"I'm your partner, I'm your girlfriend. Am I not?"

"You are"

"Didn't you tell me once you'd marry me"

"I did, and I will" he smiles, recalling that conversation in his head.

"Then talk to me, I don't care about the baggage, I don't care if they're too heavy. I'm here. You share your joys with me, then that's double the happiness. That goes the same with your sorrows, you tell me all about it so it's half the pain"

He smiles, heart filling up with more love for you he didn't was possible.

"You can tell me, you don't have to give it all to me. I just want to know if you're okay, or angry or worried or sad. I just want to know how to be there for you like you are for me" you tell him, tracing his features with your fingertips.

He hugs you even tighter, afraid of letting any space get between the two of you. "You being here is more than enough for me. Knowing I'm coming home to you is enough for me. You are more than enough for me, my love"

You didn't expect your afternoon to turn into love confessions but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

[moonamite]

Ever since I was little I always got the impression Randall was an autistic boy who just wanted people to like him, to be accepted and praised, but ultimately ends up with the wrong crowd- Which ALSO reminds me of my experience with autism in a school setting where people will only come to you if you can be ‘useful’ to them, like ROR with Randall’s camouflage ability, and how easy it is to be tricked into mistaking this for genuine kindness.

On the topic of camouflage, whether intentional or not, it’s a perfect metaphor for masking, ‘blending in’. And how Randall has to change who he is just to fit in, starting out small by taking off his glasses, and ending with him completely changing who he is as a person. It all hits way too close to home for me.

And I’m not excusing any of his actions, but I can emphasize with his experiences that cause him to be this way. How his jealousy turns into hatred. I’ve felt all of those things. How one bad experience can change you. It’s just. UUUUUGH.

I don’t know if it’s really an autism thing but I’ve noticed a common theme of me and my nd friends having particular issues with letting go of the past/holding grudges.

Even if he was hypothetically given a second chance, there’d still be that bitter, petty side of him that will always be there because it’s been practically engraved into his head ever since that one moment.

And on the topic of the incident™️, there’s the topic of Johnny. I’m out for blood when I see this asshole. I’ve been in Randall’s exact position of trying to get in with the popular crowd. When Johnny told him to “do the thing” and he giddily obeyed immediately like a puppy desperate to please so they could gawk at him.

He mistook their ‘acceptance’ as friendship. But the only reason why they kept him around was because of his ability, similar how the popular kids will keep around the oblivious autistic kid to use as a punching bag or a jester. They were never laughing with you. They were laughing at you.

MaW is cool and all but I don’t buy that Randall and Johnny were ‘besties’, especially not after the scare games. My personal belief is that Randall left them and secluded himself from people after what happened, never getting over his humiliation and shame, and hatred for Sully. He gets so fixated on proving himself that nothing else matters, and thus he never grows as a person. It may seem far fetched to a normal person, but to me I understand. I get how easy it is to slip into that mindset, to let one bad experience eat away at you and change you, how it makes you withdraw from other people and let yourself get enveloped in your feelings.

I just, idk… I want to see him grow, too. Because I know he’s more than just the hatred and jealousy that’s been building inside of him. He wasn’t always like this, we know that. One experience can ruin you, but it can also save you.

Anyways yeah this boys autistic