#love how every single one of these is a mirror selfie except for the one (1) candid pic my roommate took one time last year

[blueskittlesart]

Okay but which of the modern Link outfits are ones you’d like to wear in reality? If you had the chance, which like three of them would you want for yourself?

oh awesome a chance to brag about my fashion sense. see the thing is the reason the link outfits all look like that is because they're literally heavily based off things i would wear or have worn. i dress like this every day:

so. basically. the answer is all of them LMFAO

[odebbl]

💌 [230513] part 4

Ta-da

This is how Lee know hyung takes selfies How to lean on the wall and take a picture ㅋㅋㅋㅋ These days, I take pictures like this a lot (10:43 PM) I saw it in the video ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ (10:49 PM) [You said] I need to lie down more?? ㅋㅋㄱㅋㄱㅋㄱㅋ All right, that’s a good feedback (10:51 PM) ㅋㄱㅋㄱㅋㄱㅋㄱ ah ah ah Our Villains’ friends, STAY* joined the chat Yes! I have to raise my arm as much as I can and lean more Thank you!!!!!! (10:53 PM) (*Stray kids’ fandom name) The trendy mirror selfie as I said I will send you that after you watch the “Dear H.” MV which will be released at 6 PM on Monday (10:55 PM) Are there STAYs here?? (10:59 PM) Those are my hyungs (11:00 PM) To me, hyungs are people I respect and I like as seniors, hyungs, and singers While you are just mine It’s completely different (11:02 PM) But~~~~ I like everything I like it like this, what thing I don’t like? (11:03 PM) Yesterday, what did I just do with the ending pose, though (11:07 PM) I’m gonna fix it (11:08 PM) Everyone who came to my Bubble I believe that you’re here because you’re supporting me and really loving me Thank you for every single one of you with no exception I love you (both formally and informally) (11:09 PM) Okay (11:10 PM) Ode is doing what he must do (11:10 PM) I finished exercising and I’m going to take a showerrr (11:29 PM)

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next >>> 230514

[afusionoffandoms]

I often think about how easier my life would be if I were conventionally attractive.

Don't get me wrong. I don't look myself in the mirror and wish I looked good for the sake of looking good. I just wish I were treated that way.

When you're conventionally attractive, you get better job opportunities, and you get better paid. You get more social opportunities, from being first pick for games or projects, to having more friends, love interests and overall being more desirable to spend time with. Your opinions weigh more, and people are more inclined to listen to you, and care about you. Me? When I was a kid/teenager and the PE teacher had us form a circle or something, people literally refused to stand closer than 6 feet away from me, even though I've always been a very clean person. I've never been given pet/nicknames. I know for a fact that if I were to start a GoFundMe to help my medical expenses, I wouldn't get a single dollar.

If you're conventionally attractive, you get compliments just for existing. You post a selfie and people actually compliment you. Slay, girl. Smash. Daddy. Goals. Pretty thing. I've never experienced that. Not once have I been complimented on a random pic of myself, I'm only complimented if I've done something truly spectacular. All compliments have to be hard-earned and even then, they're very conservative. People have to be careful not to seem like they're attracted to me, for that would be embarrassing and make them seem weird. I could never use myself as a model to show something I've created, or in order to create something, since it would negatively affect what the subject is. Never have I been praised for simply existing. The world has never told me I have any reason to feel good - or even neutral - about the way I look.

I think about how my medical history would've looked so different and been so much easier for me to work through, how much more healthy I would've been today, if only medical professionals had treated me like they treat conventionally attractive individuals. If I would've been given the same treatments and trusted and taken seriously the same way. If people had an instinctual wish to treat me right.

I think about how movies, books, comics, series, music, video games, photography, art, podcasts, every single medium keeps telling me I'm undesirable both as a partner and a friend, that my existence is comical, that I'm unintelligent, selfish, lazy, greedy, filthy and evil unless proven otherwise. I can never find myself represented in media, or when you can build your own character. In perfect fictional worlds, I don't exist. Any instance where this stereotype is criticised or disproven, is treated as controversial and an exception to the rule.

I wonder what it would be like to be in a public space without being unfairly ignored or judged. It's either one or the other. You either don't exist at all - and don't deserve the time of day - or you exist too much and you're taking up too much space, judged mercilessly and picked apart. I can't go to the gym without getting looks of disapproval and disgust, which does nothing to encourage me to work harder. Imagine how much that damages you over time, even when you do your best to learn how to ignore the haters. It still doesn't change the fact that people do it. Doesn't change the fact that the average person still wants to treat you this way.

I'm not saying attractive people don't have challenges as well. I'm not saying there are minorities who don't have it worse.

But that doesn't change the fact that this is my life, and being unattractive means I have a considerable amount of additional hurdles to overcome - hurdles that I can't change with my mindset, hurdles that are unnecessary and wouldn't have to be there if people simply decided not to place them in my way.

[kurofai-olympics]

KuroFai Olympics 2022 - Team Cursed

Prompt: Frozen Heart Author: untilthenlive Title: a frozen heart Rating: T+ Summary: Fai takes a breath, then another, and then leans up on his elbows to look Kurogane in the eyes. Kurogane looks up at him, brow furrowed, head tilted, but so open, so beautiful, even in the darkening twilight. "I'm happy," he begins. "I am. And that scares me. I feel safe with you. And that terrifies me. I can't freeze my heart. I can't stop fucking loving people," he hisses, anger turned inward. "Even when I'm not supposed to. Even when it gets them hurt." https://archiveofourown.org/works/41088717

Prompt: A whole new world Author: kiminokokoro Title: Ultreia! Rating: E Summary: “What would you do then, I wonder,” he continued, tightening his grip. “When the time comes, would you be able to let them go? Would you accept they left you, and that there’s nothing in this world that can bring them back? Would you accept their destiny, as imposed by God?” Or, the fic where the little family lands in a place where not everything is as it seems. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41214408/chapters/103324089

Prompt: Into the Unknown Author: NinjaCupcake Title: Journey into the Unknown Rating: T+ Summary: What can be done when the curse is to be left alive? https://archiveofourown.org/works/41258457

Prompt: Poor Unfortunate Souls Author: Pasta_Muffin Title: Devil's Bargain Rating: M Summary: Ashura never came to collect Fai; Yui never took on his brother's name. The twins freed themselves and they find their way to a magic mirror showing them a world where no one has ever heard of cursed twins. A world where lives a handsome young man called Kurogane that Yui can only watch from a distance. They can run away to that place, but only if they pay a terrible price: Fai must take the shape of a bird, Yui must cut out his tongue; and Yui must win the trust of Kurogane, or Fai and Yui will both die. They have 30 days. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41266827/chapters/103462797

Prompt: How Far I'll Go Author: Caught Between Title: VenusInRetrograde Rating: T+ Summary: Kurogane has always felt caught between two worlds, cursed with the ability to see the spirits of the dead. He doesn't realize until much later what a gift that is. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41284410/chapters/103510815

Prompt: I Won't Say (I'm In Love) Author: Eternal_song Title: Cursed Images Rating: G Summary: Two idiots fall in love over selfies, but they'll never admit it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41217300

Prompt: God Help the Outcasts Author: aminiatureworld Title: Shattered Glass Rating: T Summary: In which Fai and Kurogane go to investigate a mysterious voice wailing in a church and Fai is trapped by the darkness of his past, and saved by the light of his present life. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41327511

Prompt: Part of your World Author: godtiercomplex Title: sun sets on you Rating: T+ Summary: Kurogane doesn’t know why he’s hesitating. He only knows two things: This man is a liar. This isn’t the first time he’s held a blade to this man’s throat. He never has forgotten a single person he’s killed. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41368410/chapters/103736478

Prompt: I See the Light Author: saltedmoon Title: The Killing of the High Priest Ashura by the Traitor Mage Fai Flowright Rating: T+ Summary: Every inch of gentleness in Kurogane’s face scrunched itself into irritation. It was a bit like watching a fruit dry in the sun, except at high speed. “Don’t make me hit you over the head,” he said. “You already did!” Fai said, stifling a laugh when Kurogane cringed. He wondered if everyone living under the light of the sun grew up this earnest, or if fate had delivered three outliers at his doorstep so that he would know what looking at the stars felt like. A small mercy before the Shroud let in something Fai couldn’t fend off, maybe. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41378313

Prompt: Can You Feel The Love Tonight? Author: PillarofAutumn117 Title: Were it so Easy Rating: M Summary: It was supposed to be a happy union. It was supposed to be for love. But blood magic never leaves anyone untainted. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41379258

[junseotual]

okok how abt all time favorite beverage for walking around in a slight drizzle with <3 and . rank top 5 junseo mirror selfies

erieri my bewoved <3 i think starbucks' gingerbread latte would fit autumn drizzles pretty well (if we ignore the fact that they only start selling it in winter) & for a spring drizzle i'd have to say the rose lemonade i told u about !!!!!

now . did u have to terrorize me like this . as of the moment im typing this u havent consented to me changing the 5 to like 250 (made it a top 10 but like cheating) but frankly i do not care. i present to u the prettiest man on planet earth:

(1) these 4 are a set they count as one . may be my most favouritestest idk im not sure but like i love.... they feel very for me u know (may be the coat). he's so pretty hes so cute? THIS close to giving him a kiss u know. also were all perfect lockscreen candidates (served me well also. from time to time im like i shld go back to this)

(2) left is just SO insanely important to me my spring lockscreen my beloved fox boy like look at him . hes a fox . im pointing im shaking you like are you seeing this ?? im so insanely attached to this picture . i think abt it . so often . (3) right takoyaki junseo my beloved i see this picture i cry i sob i bawl i wail i roll around my bed etc

the next four are all the same genre of junseo mirror selfies However there's a hierarchy there and it goes (4) left which is a bit different from the next three because i feel like the neck is the highlight nd thats all i will say . u shld click to see the actual full picture its v important. (5) right . hand . fingers . thats all

(6) these two go together they are a set also. they are like number 5 except slightly less hand focused but i went insane over these when they were posted esp left .

(7) is the one on the left nd i think people who pay slight attention to me probably knew this one was going to appear on this list . hes just .... gestures ... + right is a bonus for size but was one of the 87 candidates bc look....its so cute.....it looks like the flowers are in his hair.........

(8) is another set i tried rlly hard to just choose one of the two but like the energy is slightly different u know so it was hard so i was like u know what idc let's go w both

(9) is arguably another set.... i did end up choosing left when i was narrowing them down but for the sake of size im adding the other strong candidate. left just feels....cozy......nd also as everyone should know by now i am a coat enthusiast . im gently brushing his ha-- So right one is just . theres smth so cute about it like smth abt it feels so adorable ?? (+ coat i love u) (+ guest yongha mwah)

(10) is THIS VERY important picture....i love it so bad....the blue looks so pretty on him.... nd just that sweater in general it looks rlly pretty on him . like anything wld look pretty on him bc hes junseo whatever but like its so cute ? so prettie ? AND MOST IMPORTANTLY little plant crown... i love flower crowns (even tho i dont rlly see flowers there but like . theyre like . cousins i guess?) so its . i love it .

(bonus) not smth i would put on 11th spot like there are mirror selfies of his i like more n all but i felt like i needed to add this in some way bc it makes me laugh every single time like the little 'get a hobby' is so funny i feel very targeted like alright pretty boy ure right i rlly should get a hobby its like he knows i spend too much time just staring at him + right for size but also its so cute i find this genre of junseo in tiniest mirror known to man very endearing

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hello hello! Welcome to my first JJK fic for our free for all Valentine’s Day collab! I had fun with this free idea , I always wanted to do an AU like this so it gave me a bases for future ideas! Enjoy~ bunny ❥

Warnings : None! Some heavy kissing and such but nothing too explicit , Yuuji and Sukuna are twins ♡

Word count : 3.8k

Paring(s) : Tattooist!Sukuna x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

———————————————————————

Sukuna couldn't stand it, the girl his brother brought over to his shop plagued his mind. Wide eyed and just as happy as Yuuji it was infuriating how energetic the pair was in the tattoo shop. He was used to the sound of his brother asking for him but once he hear a second voice his hand twitches , eyes moving from the drawing in front of him as his appointment in front of him practically was begging fro his attention, occasionally trying spark up a conversation as he drew out a rose, planned for her collarbone “So, did all of you tattoos hurt?” The girl asked, pushing herself closer as he continued to stech, not paying her much mind. “No, I guess i've always had tough skin though.” He said as the girl hummed and giggled continuing her talking “I've been afraid of needles for as long as I could’ve remembered, but maybe this'll get me over my fear huh?” she questioned as all he did was hum, finishing the small design. “Maybe. Is this okay?” He asked her as she gasped, her giggling increasing to his dismay

“Omg i love it! You're a good worker with your hands” She said as he started to get ready, popping off his rings as he put on gloves, running up red and black inks for the rose to be. “Your right shoulder, right?” Sukuna asked as she confirmed, moving her shirt a bit too low to try to entice him. Pushing more of it back up, Sukuna placed and got the stencil ready, finally looking up to the girl “Tell me if there's anything wrong okay ?” He said as she gave him an almost hungry look “oh please i sure will” And with that he started the tattoo, the girl he was tattooing letting out small cries and gaps. Every one of the sounds made him stop, checking on her as the girl tried to act differently but he knew she was in pain. Once the girl stopped in a crying spell and was able to calm down from the help of the giant tattooist “s-sorry i didn't know my collar bone was so sensitive” she said as he said she was okay, starting to go back to her tattoo once everything was better with the girl. Once finished , she started to pay when she started to hit on him again “ I'm still sorry for that whole thing , how about I get you a drink for the troubles huh?” She threw at him as he gave her a small smile “I have more clients later, and i'd rather not drink, don't really like to unless its special'' Sukuna responded as the girl admired her new rose that covered a small portion of her chest and collarbone “ How about we go celebrate my new tattoo? And the fact you helped me through it huh?” She suggested. Before he could respond he heard the high pitched sounds of laughter. Looking up to his door he saw his annoying brother but with one of the most beautiful girls he ever saw. Once finishing the payment with his client and her sliding her number on a piece of paper his brother came up with his friend “Hey Su! I want you to meet my bestfriend [ ]!” his hyper twin brother Yuuji said as Sukuna looked at the girl in front of them. She looked to be their age , shorter than him with a few tattoos and dyed hair herself. “Nice to meet you young lady”

Sukuna said as he took her hand, giving it a kiss. [ ] giggled as Yuuji fake choked, his brother rolling his eyes at him “ What? Not my fault you've never brought her around me, she's a lady, gotta give her a proper introduction right?” Sukuna teased as Yuuji grumbled causing [ ] to laugh “Well nice to properly meet you Sukuna , ive heard so much about the woman lure bad boy whos the polar opposite of his sweet and innocent twin” She teased as he gave her his own smirk “ Yet i know nothing of the cute little girl standing in front of me” Sukuna lashed back as [ ] felt her face heat up, a laugh coming from her. His brother pouted he stood in front of his brother , giving him a knowing look. “I brought her here for a tattoo, idiot” He said as Sukuna gave him a raised eyebrow, looking at the girl beside him “Is that right doll? Came here for a tattoo?” He asked as she gave him a shy smile back “Well erm, i kinda wanted to start a sleeve with you if that's alright?” with widened eyes Sukuna and Yuuji were surprised together, the strawberry blondes both looking as the girl gave them a confused look back “What? Is that bad?” She asked as sukuna kicked in “Nah, i'm surprised that you'd choose me ,i'm not the usual girly tattoo sleeve maker” He said as she gave him a smile, “And i'm not your usual girly girl who just wants flowers and shit as my tattoo” She retorted back as he gave her an impressed smirk, ushering her to the back of his studio room “You can come too twerp” he said to his brother as yuuji ran to join them, headed to the back room.

This became a recurring theme as over the next few days and even weeks , Sukuna and [ ] met to talk about her new additions, adding and removing elements as they started to get a good picture of what they both thought looked the best together, some ideas being saved for other single tattoos. “So how do you like it so far sweetheart?” Sukuna asked as [ ] gave him an enthusiastic squeal, moving over the turned drawing desk as she fell forward to hug the tattooed covered man. Shocked by her random falling grasp he chuckled, catching her so she wouldn't hit her hip on the swerving table and half giving her a hug back as they laughed together. [ ] pulled back some as she started to notice more differences between the twins. Starting with Sukunas face ; it was more clear and sunkissed, small freckles adorned his cheeks from the sunshine. Unlike his twin, she noticed how more stocky and strong his body and face was compared to Yuuji. The twins were pretty much identical , except for how they acted, the fact that Sukuna had tattoos and the sometimes usual differences between twins, like style and other small discrepancies. Unlike the bright and colorful yet athletic look Yuuji had , Sukuna tended to be more of a dark artsy look, usually black clothes , ripped jeans , rings and chains. He tended to give off the usual bad boy vibes, someone who you wouldn't want your parents to meet.

But under his hard exterior he was very personable , just as sweet as his twin. As she was lost in her own thoughts , her hands pushing off his chest he snapped her back to reality, a finger going under her chin as he gave her a gentle smile , catching the girl in midthought of her tattooist “Aren't you something….what's on your mind [ ]” He rasped out as her eyes widened, realizing how close they were. From the standing mirror she could really see it ; one of her thighs was in between his spreaded ones, the other in his right arm. From her arms wrapped around his neck her face was close to his, the two of them slightly chest to chest. Her body felt hot as the male in front of her smirked, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he looked at the scene in front of him too. Eyeing her in the mirror he could imagine the work to be put atop her skin, and how pretty she'd be in his work, the thought gave him a sense of protectiveness and overall close bond with the girl he was around for more than he'd had before. Spending hours a day , almost everyday except his super packed days had gotten him a closer bond with her and even with his twin brother, the group of them and their other friends relaxing and enjoying time together. The little things that they all did together made him realize how much he enjoyed taking a break. And how much he'd fallen for his new client.

Coming from his own thoughts he pulled her right leg higher onto his lap, causing her to fall forward as she gasped, their faces impossibly closer. “Hm...youre pretty when youre flustered..” he said absentmindedly as he looked back to them in the mirror ,wrapping an arm around her waist as he gave her a sly smile, moving back into the chair he sat in “S-sukuna?” [ ] questioned as he hummed, sliding his eyes from the mirror to her questioning ones. Tracing the hand on his chest he rose a brow, a silent sign to continue. “I-I can get down. I'm sorry i was a little excited-” She continued as she started to move. With quick ease Sukuna kept her in place, rubbing the back of her thigh as he leaned in, pulling her closer by the backs of her thighs “I like you here. You don't have to move unless you're uncomfortable” He said as she ran a hand through his messy hair, sliding it to his cheek as he laid his head in it, kissing her palm. With the small caring action she squeaked , making the male chuckle “Am i...moving too fast” He said , his voice barely a whisper as he tightened his grasp on her waist, eyes searching hers.

“N-no i'm just...surprised?” She half questioned as he gave a knowing smile, shifting her weight to completely have her in his lap. With a high pitched squeal and giggles [ ] landed comfortably , her calves hanging off as her thighs tightened around his waist. “See, isn't this more comfortable?” He asked as she shyly hid in his neck, overwhelmed by his random acts of affection “Sukuna...are you trying to just make me embarrassed” She whined as he stroked her back, putting her face deeper in his neck “Mh..no not particularly..kinda just...thinking” He said as he pulled his phone out. Facing the mirror he took a silent picture, a smirk on his lips as he looked it over. her body was perfectly flushed with his , her arms around his neck as the tattoo down her side was more prominent in the picture. From the way it looked was just a couple taking a handsy photo but for Sukuna, it was a seal for how he felt. He wanted to take more pictures like this, but with them being together. Mirror selfies, clothes or even more explicit for his own gallery ; he loved the way they looked together. Noticing how quiet he was [ ] sat up looking at the male as he set his phone up facing the mirror before squishing her face “Everything okay?” She asked with a squished face as he laughed , releasing her cheeks “I love this..” He admitted as she gave him a wide eyed look , his warm ones looking away from hers

“I know..all of this could be seen as a very lewd way to admit my feelings but..honestly i'm used to just having women want me for free tattoos and well..yknow..my talents'' Sukuna said as he gave her a crooked smile, a laugh coming from [ ] as she understood what he meant, but the fact that he's admitting feelings for her made her heart flutter “S-so you like me?” She asked warily as he let out a light sigh, leaning up to put their faces close again “Hey [ ]...i know this is awkward and embarrassing...for me at least...but..may i kiss you?” He whispered over her lips as she silently shook her head, letting her eyes feel heavy as he got closer, rubbing their lips faintly together. As soon as she tighten her arms around his neck he pushed his record on his phone, sealing their lips together. As the two started to make out he tightened his hands around her waist, a low hum coming from his throat as he bit her bottom lip, sliding his tongue in. the more heated it got the more she whimpered, pulling her kiss plumped lips away from his. Groaning he chased her lips, crashing them against his as they started to kiss again. Letting her nimble fingers move up from his neck she tugged at his hair at the back of his nape, making the male growl as he rocked her closer to him, his larger arms wrapping over her waist.

Once again she whined and pulled away, putting her head against his “Sukuna...I..geez you-” trying to catch her breath he gave an airsh laugh. Ending his video. Catching him touch his phone [ ] reached for it “What did you do?” She asked as he held the phone above his head, watching them kiss again as he grinned “Oh nothing..just wanted my confession is all” He said as she gave him a look “[ ]..i really do like you...god i could say i'm almost in love…” “Almost?” She whispered as he kissed her lips again “More like i am but..i dunno how you feel about me” He said as she gave him a soft look, kissing his cheek “I love the time we've spent together, and well, if you'll have me i'll be yours” She responded. A wide smile on his face as he leaned back in to kiss her, the new couple giggling through the sessions as they finalized the rest, starting on the masterpiece they had crafted together.

Starting on her sleeve was one of the most enjoyable things she had done. Every few weeks to a month depending on the healing time she was adding her next piece. As she finished all of her linework it came to coloring her colorful bits. For the next few months again she finished it, all while spending time with her tattooist boyfriend and friends. As she was to the final stretch of heer coloring she knew valentines day was coming up more and more. Her and Sukuna had been dating for around a year now, just a few weeks shy of it. As she came to the shop she waved to the receptionist, giving him a smile “Hey Megs, how are you?” Megumi, the inky haired boy looked up from his journal and gave [ ] a rare smile, “Hey [ ]! I'm good ,how are you today? Sukunas is in the back if youre ready for him” He said as she gave him smile “That's good! I'm so excited my tattoo should be done just in time for valentines day! Speaking of, do you have an idea of your valentine this year?” She teased as he gave her a shy look “Ah...not particularly but maybe once it came i would” He said as she gave him a nod in understanding. Hearing his girlfriend talking Sukuna came out, a grin on his lips “Hey babe” He said as he gave her a kiss to her neck, causing Megumi to groan as she giggled “Cmon dont make him uncomfortable with your affection, lets go big boy” She joked as she took her strawberry blonde to his room “Ah okay babe let me see your arm” Sukuna started as she took of his jacket, revealing her sleeveless crop top and work of art on her left arm. Turning her arm some he looked over her lines and color deposits , making sure everything looked right. “Its coming along nicely [ ]..i just have this little pieces on your forearm and we'd be done with piece” He said happily as she gave him a soft smile “I love it...just as much as i love you” She said as he looked up from her arm , giving her a shy smile “I love you more [ ]”

Sukuna said as he leaned up, kissing her lips as he set up his inks and machine, snapping his gloves as he started to finish her last pieces. As the buzzing of the machine lulled her comfortingly she caught the determined and concentrated look on his face as he tattooed away “Where do you wanna go on valentine's day...hypothetically speaking” Sukuna asked randomly as she started to fill in lines. Blinking comically, she looked down at her boyfriend. “Anything youd come up with” She said as he hummed, finishing up the last color as he wiped it clean, starting to clean up the ink and smaller tears in her skin hidden by the fresh ink. “Princess...thank you for letting me be the one that did your art…” He said as he traced her hand , kissing her fingertips as he flashed her a smile. “I love you more Su..” [ ] whispered back as she leaned forward, kissing his forehead.

As the two sat there in his studio and talked [ ] drew up a heart with their names in it , giggling as she showed her boyfriend “Look babe!” She said as he stopped cleaning his desk, analyzing her work “I like it, a lot. You did a great job sizing wise, and i always loved your cursive” he said as he ran a finger over the art again “You said you wanted to get better at tattooing, right?” Sukuna asked as he still looked over the design “Yeah i did, what about it?” [ ] asked as he stretched , reaching over as he pulled out his darkest black ink and vibrant red. Soon he picked up two pairs of gloves and one of his various machines “Ill let you do this on me, and i can do it on you if youd like” He said as she gave him a happy screech, starting to make the transfers “Really Sukuna, youd let me do that?” She asked as he nodded, prepping an empty space on his arm “Ill help you, make sure its deep enough but i trust you, you did a good job with the smaller ones on yourself. Youre good sweetheart im here “ And thats what he says the whole time she tattoos him, her lines were straight but she felt like her red names were lacking. Tracing them again the darken, showing up beautifully as she focused, holding his skin apart as she smiled at her work, wiping the access ink and covering it in ointment like he did earlier “I did it!” She jumped happily as he gave a satisfied grin, looking at her energetic girlfriend. ‘I love her’ he thought to himself as he thought of what hed do for her in the coming weeks for the day filled of love

On valentines day [ ] was at home, talking to Nobara as she heard a knock on her door. Telling the girl she'd call back, [ ] started at the door and opened it, seeing a giant bouquet of flowers as she took them nicely from the delivery boy “Uhhh miss [ ] correct? The sender also wanted you to have this” The boy fumbled with a note, handing it to the girl as she thanked him , watching him leave as she let out a happy squeal, reading it.

‘Dollface, I hope you're ready for tonight, I have a lot in store for us tonight. How about you wear that cute little black dress you got last time we went to the mall hm? I'll be over at four-SKR”

Giggling at his note she looked at the time, noting it was 2:00, she went to the back, starting to get dressed as she was excited to see what her boyfriend had planned for them. She took the time to curl her hair, setting them as she worked on her makeup. After taking the time she saw it was around 3:45. She smiled as she got a text from him, saying he was on his way. As she happily ran around her apartment , trying to get rid of the jitters she had for the night planned with her boyfriend. Soon she heard a knock on the door. Skipping to the dor she opened it to her tall boyfriend leaning against the frame, looking down at his girlfriend “Hi darling” Sukuna said as she stood on her toes , giving him a peck against his lips as she giggled “Hi” She responded as he wrapped his arms around her waist , kissing the crook of her neck. “Missed you..” He whispered as she hummed, rocking with him as they stumbled into her living room, Sukuna shutting her door behind him as he picked her up. Laughing , [ ] held onto him, looking down to her well dressed partner. He was in a black vest, adorned with red decals and black pants. Despite him wearing nicer clothes it had the same grudge feel to it, ringed fingers and pierced ears filled with glistening metals very promedent in his attire. As she gave him a glance over from being held in his arms he rose a brow and placed her down, giving her an uncharacteristic shy look “Do i look alright?....tried something new since ill be taking you out” He asked as she kissed his cheek, giving him a content smile “I love it. You still have that edge I fell in love with laced through and through” [ ] said as Sukuna felt his heart jump, a warmth creeping up his neck and face as he kissed her face, taking her hand “Well then...i'm very thankful with a woman like you in my life...thank you [ ]..you ready to go?” Sukuna softly asked as he outstretched a hand to her, making [ ] playfully laugh. Taking her ringed at tattooed lovers hand the duo set off, starting their first Valentines Day together.

Once night rolled around most had been finished [ ] and Sukuna found themselves on a hilltop, overlooking a city as they ate a snack basket that Sukuna prepared. Not only was he a tattooist but he could cook, and cook very well. “If I didn't have the urge to tattoo every square inch of my body with art maybe i'd be a cook” He laughed as she constantly complimented his cooking, laying her head on his shoulders. “This is wonderful Sukuna..ive really enjoyed today” [ ] said as he gave her a look before peering back at the city “I know how much you hated today so...I wanted to do something for you to love it” Sukuna said as she moved up, looking in his warm eyes as he reached out of his pocket, his phone showing their first accidental mirror picture they took together evident as his lockscreen. As he pulled the next thing to it, a shiny ring filed with her birthstone “This is for you, a promise to you” Tilting her head she took the beautiful ring and placed it on her finger, watching it glisten in the moonlight “A promise for what?” she asked “Ill never leave you, and one day...maybe...we could make that promise permanent” He said as he took her hand in his , pulling her in his lap as he sealed that promise with a kiss.

[charming-2d-boys]

hiya! what do u think are some of the adult-trio's SFW guilty pleasures? like things they secretly like that would ruin their street cred. i hope you know what I mean lolol if you answer this thank you 🙏🙏🙏

Hey! I think I've seen this somewhere else, but I'd like to try answering anyway, so thank you for the request!

I hope you enjoy this! 😄

First of all, they're all idiots, no matter how cool they try to be.

They're like the Three Stooges of Hunter x Hunter.

Dumb, dumber and dumbest, I'll let you pick which one is which.

Chrollo

he loves and I mean loves dancing to weird pop music, like the one from the early 2000s (think Britney Spears' Toxic, for example)

will never admit that he once stole a toy dog that he sleeps with in his arms when the Troupe isn't together

tried taking selfies...he sucks at getting the right angle and light, but he still tries

will never admit that he uses mascara sometimes to make his eyelashes look better

has a mug with Best Boss that he found once in a store and stole because he wanted one too

he always drinks his tea or coffee from that mug

Hisoka

Hisoka doesn't really feel any shame

he likes taking photos of whatever, including himself and he's got a massive collection on his phone that he's not afraid to show to anyone... except for that photo that he still has from when he was a kid and he was missing one tooth and he looked ridiculous and beat up because he got into a fight with someone he didn't like and they won... by pulling down his pants and underwear...

it was the only time someone ever took a picture of him and his mom because perfect timing, right?

won't ever let anyone live to tell the fact that he has an uplifting and wholesome quote as his phone background

loves practising his drama queen acts - literally bought a piano so he could drape himself over it

he loves dancing, but he remembers when he tried dancing with a rose in his mouth - idiot forgot about the thorns and stung himself in the lips, tongue and the roof of the mouth (he still practices sometimes and actually checks this time)

Illumi

would you believe me if I told you that Illumi does Zumba?

No? Me neither, but he loves the feeling of exercising, but it not feeling like it's exercising at all

plays fetch with Mike on the far side of the estate where he knows no one really looks

always does the hair flip thing whenever he passes by a mirror

pink, fluffy flipflops, moisturizing mask and cucumbers on his eyes while he sits down on his bed - no one will ever know

also, hand cream - lots and lots of it, every single day

for an assassin, he’s got extremely soft hands

but let them think it’s just his good genes

[thekitschdiet]

the kitsch diet part II

part one alr posted!! this chunk is about 3,000~ words long... let me know what u think :-) thank u all for all the luv already!!! looks like I really will hit 31 followers by easter!!!!!!!!

  Who is the Kitsch Girl? 

 I think this is more loosely defined, but The Chic Diet did a truly admirable way of reducing a girl to her YSL bag and her really skinny legs. Now, that implies an archetype, or a population in a specific location. I think kitschness is kind of the niche you fill when you’re not really much of anything else, sort of your own conglomerate of mainstream-specific. One major requirement, though, is being a little too into something somewhat uncool. And the whole illusion falls apart if you have any sort of outward insecurity. See, the Kitsch Girl is somewhat undefinable because she is so much of everything. She exists in multitudes, in a way that is also quite simple to understand; think of a list of axioms, or principles to live by. And now add a section to each one that says “but…” to make a collection of verified exceptions. Say, the kitsch girl will never wear jeans. But she thrifted this pair of vintage flares she just loves. She doesn’t reply to texts efficiently, but sometimes she will within a couple seconds. No mascara, no dinner forks, candles are to be collected not burned; but that was a gift, or something. It’s not personal, of course, those are just the contradictions she exists in. Don’t try to understand it, the enigma is essential to the facade. Or maybe she just lives like this, and her character is so homogenous with her inner world there’s no sense in trying to separate it. You have to have a little bit of an individuality complex about the whole ordeal, which is normally so eugh, but if you’re kitschy enough it works on you. Trust!The Kitsch girl is not someone unlikeable, but amiable and well heeled. I double checked that last one, assuming it meant liked by most, but apparently means affluent. I suppose that is an aspect of the kitsch girl too, having seemingly endless frivolous expenses with no real strain, but that’s not important right now. People that don’t like her think so out of jealousy, or something. Envious that her clothes are all kind of shake-it-up-esque and her highlights desperately need touching up, but she still seems so enthralled with the whole of life… How does she enjoy her own company so much when other people want to know her better? Doesn’t she feel weird about blowing people off to make a joke about reading Kafka in the bath? Why would she document her cluttered, unexciting life on Instagram so delicately, so vibrantly? Of course, no one would say this to her face because they are really baseless claims. She’s nice, generous, and valuable to have as a friend. Trade-offs exist, as they do with anyone. But I like thinking it’s easier to overlook a forgotten birthday when your kitschy best friend gave you a multi strand pearl necklace to celebrate the welcome breeze of June. Or some other made-up holiday. She is so unassuming if you’re not really looking. Girls want in on her inner circle. Or they just don’t care. Nothing wrong with being liked or thought of naught, for the most part. Boys are either enthralled or repulsed by her. Her doctor knows her as something of a hypochondriac, but only minorly. It’s just carpal tunnel, don’t worry… The sales staff at CVS turn a blind eye when she slips an eyeliner pencil into her tote bag. She shoplifts on occasion, just to see if she still knows how. But she is not a shoplifter. $9 here and $6.45 there doesn’t really add up to much. Everywhere she goes, she makes a tertiary friend or two. The term of friend is loosely used here, of course. But it is nice to tell a stranger you like her earrings. Or her phone case is so fun, is it Wildflower? The kitsch girl has an eye for this kind of detail. Simply put, she is sort of unspectacular. But in a way that makes you sort of wish you knew her better.

Phone cases

The phone case is, like, religious for the kitsch girl. Sorry, but there’s just no other accessory as flippant and expensive and single-purpose as a trendy little iPhone case with some semitacky stickers plastered over the design. I used to have an iPhone XS- extrasmall-  with like, 18 phone cases. It was kind of a sordid affair. I jest, but really… owning that many phone cases was kind of sick. We get it, you are frivolous and spontaneous and sooo stylish! Stop posting mirror selfies on your Instagram story, your crush isn’t going to see it. Kidding again. Having an extensive collection of phone cases is just so fun because while attainable, most people just simply do not partake in it. That makes you kitschy and unique. I really thought I had more to say about the IDEA of the phone case, but I guess in practice it is all very, very simple. You can slide your driver’s license in the back of a clear case. At what point does it stop being cool to have legal operational control of a vehicle? I don’t display mine because I don’t really like the photo. I look round. In the eyes but also just in general, swollen, unglamorous. Whatever. Not like I drive a Nissan or anything. I drive my *Mom’s* Nissan. Playing Bladee in the car seems sacrilegious. She would hate it.Back to phone cases. Sonix ones are cute but kind of overpriced retail- unless you have like, an iPhone 12 Pro Max or whatever the fuck is new this year, just go to Winner’s. They always have Xs and 11 cases. I had a cherry one for my previous phone, like the exact one Lana Del Rey had? Thank god I sold it before she got outed as a copfucker or whatever. Casetify is for an inadvertent flex. Flexing your lame, lame taste. Sorry, I know you bought it because you liked it, but what you failed to consider is just how un-Kitsch they are. SO common, and they advertise on Instagram. Sorry, I just can’t get into it! Kind of how I just never liked the Brandy Amara tanks. Or lowtop converse. Otterbox is just distressing. Like, if my boyfriend gave me an otterbox phone case I would probably break up with him because somebody clearly isn’t paying attention- one of my favorite, potentially overused joke is how Otterbox cases are the equivalent of orthopedic insoles. Sorry but if you have poor arch support or whatever, but no pain is worth giving up a good pair of Margiela slingback tabi heels. Obviously I couldn’t afford that right now because all loose income goes directly to Wildflower and my cig boy. But like, one day. I hope you want to punch me in the face a little bit after reading that.  If Wildflower isn’t your thing, at least have the decency to get a beaded phone strap. But not from String Ting. Pray tell you aren’t keeping score, but they are one of my several parasocial enemies. That should have been ME collaborating with Wildflower! Should have been ME mailing shit to Caroline Calloway (more on her later, but she is the only blue check I follow. I adore her! I was on her patreon for a bit I thinkl!!) …. Side note. Phone cases are cute but there is no way to properly protect your laptop without looking just absurd or colossally lame. The foam sleeves… ick.

Having the shittiest music taste ever

So like, here’s the thing. I’m an Apple Music user, which sort of reinstates my status as an unironic My Bloody Valentine Hyperpop Death Grips kinda gal. Read; volcel. My most recent conquest ended up being a huge L on my part, but also… I totally dodged a bullet. The guy had an iPhone 11 (female trait) and didn’t know who Rei Brown was, which just seemed suspicious given his Niche. I just know he had a “making out playlist” comprising entirely of like, Joji. Which isn’t a bad thing I guess but so unembarrassing it horseshoes back to being humiliating.Like I said. Having the worst music taste. It’s nice how subjective and deeply personal your music taste can be; no one really Needs to know you’re a die hard drainer. But there’s also no point in being a die-hard drainer and Not capitalizing off it somehow. I added it up and I have well over 150 hours of just Bladee and Yung Lean. Which is so yass? The more I write, using myself as a case study, I realize just how desperately jobless I am. And Yogenfruz isn’t even hiring! UGH!I think there is something very kitschy about liking hyperpop in the least ironic, least obnoxious way. Sort of feeds into a “I’m not like other girls” thing, but I mean… That’s kind of the idea of kitsch, isn’t it? Be a little different but also the very same as your lipgloss brethren?!Side note. If you make monthly playlists I am genuinely kind of afraid of you. That is just so organized!! I just make playlists with esoteric titles and then make a new one when I’m sick of the stuff on the last. I have exhausted most genres but I think my favorite is the “I’m wearing f****ng air forces and my teeth are SO white”. Guess what genre it is. Or don’t, but it’s probably what you think is. Okay, moving on….

Curating a scent

I like thinking I smell like mango and peach, Glossier you, whatever citrus is in that Lush shower jelly and mint 5Gum. But of course it is probably less distinct and just kind of generally fruit-floral-mint. Anyway. I think Glossier You is the perfect scent for anyone with a rather elementary understanding of the whole.. Perfume business. Every bottle of intentional fragrance I own was made via aesthetic choices… it really helps that Glossier You is so cute And so universal. Now, Glossier is kind of interesting to me because it really is at the intersection of cheugy and kitsch. Kind of basic, overplayed, unspectacular. But also…. Often popular things are popular because they are good. Glossier has excellent customer suurv, they ship SO fast (and no import duties! W!) and their stuff is just so sweet and nice if not unoriginal, in kind of the same way strawberry ice cream is. Which is still my favorite, of course, especially if there’s a vegan option. I was talking about Glossier. What the hell! It’s really worth trying out. A huge principle of kitsch is just… having as many possible layers and appendages to your composure as possible. And adding a signature scent just really completes that! When curating your own, I say this as a complete amateur, know-nothing; make it something that comes kind of naturally to Your Character. Like, I’m just not a Chanel No 5 kind of girl. Odds are you aren’t either. My bottle (before she asked for it back when I told her I didn’t use it, in exchange for a Nordstrom’s gift card) was from my grandmother. Ummm.. Yeah, I really have no expertise in curating a scent. But it is nice to have a signature. And having a bottle displayed on your dresser next to your aughties McDonald milkshake themed beanie baby and a handful of lip products is just way too fun! This is the kind of girl I am, everyone! Cluttered, but prioritizing pretty-delicate things!

Cheugyism

Cheugy is a relatively new word that has unfortunately wormed into my vocabulary to replace “uncouth”. Which I use to mean graceless or tacky, but if that isn’t what it means…. Don’t tell me. That would hurt more than weighing myself after a “feast” slash pastry binge at my dear Grandmothe’s house. Like I was saying. Cheugy. It’s sort of a fucked up concept to me because it is a critique on consumption, but not the pace or volume or magnitude of it. But rather… the idea of not being “good” enough at engaging in microtrends, or involvement in the fast paced fashion cycle. Don’t get me started on TikTok, or do, but… yeah,. No. That will require a cigarette because I’m so sorry, but writing a thinkpiece on social media is so lowbrow I would need to find about six ways to aesthetically counteract it…. Moving on.  I think the idea of cheugy is good, we really do need a word to simply and efficiently define “out of date/uninspired/lame”. But the way it is used to shame others for not liking the same trends or whatever is kind of gross. If you use cheugyism to put other people down and not as a neutral identifier umm… you will become what you fear. Sorry, that’s what happens. Some things that I think are cheugy or embarrassing, or just not part of my stylistic lexicon are… 1. Hooded or zip up clothing, or things with a large graphic on the back. Bingo if it's all three! I just can’t get behind it. Side note, my summer home outfit is brandy sweats and a tube top (Urban Outfitters tank I ripped the straps off) and a large cardigan that should have belonged to a stoner, but probably didn’t. I can dunk on bulky, uninspired clothes because I would honest to God NEVER be caught DEAD out of the house wearing any of it. I’m so serious. Next segment should be about the kitsch girl’s inadvertent affinity for diuretics. Remind me….. One of the ports of my laptop is dead. Not really sure what to do about that.

Eye makeup and what it means to me….

Personally, I am one of those people who never wears foundation and kind of has a complex about it. The kitsch girl wears fluffy eyelashes and owns a plethora of sparkly eyeliner. Or maybe she doesn’t, but she has something distinct and a little ritzy, if not haphazard. We all saw Euphoria and it like, totally imprinted on us. The way glitter sits on your face after a long day is so resplendent. When it’s shining and a little bit melted off from your long, semi-productive day… ugh! Just made for film. Pictures on film. But not the Prequel app. I keep getting fucking ads for it. But it’s so embarrassing. Like, isn’t the whole point of film the authenticity of the moment? The texture of the afternoon? Why would you fabricate that? Prequel is just so cheugy. More on that later. But anyhow. Wearing a ton of eye makeup kind of fits with the idea of film too I think. Like, look at you, in the moment. With your strip lash falling off! It’s all so tres-chic. Plus, for whatever reason, it’s kind of unique or notably dedicated to ~Pull up to the function~ with more eye makeup on than everyone else. Sorry, but it really doesn’t take that long! But yes I will gracefully accept your praise… it’s kind of like the dropshipping of complements if you think about it. Easy to source with little to no effort in the curating. Side note, lashes are like $20 for 40 weeks if you cut them in half and use each pair about 5 times. You could probably do more but I lose track. How the fuck is it almost June? I was trudging through the snow to check the mail for my Online Ceramics shirt just last week, I swear. The trick to cutting your lashes (the way I do it anyway) is pretty simple. Get out two lashes that are symmetrical. Find the middle and cut one slightly to the left and one slightly to the right. This means you have two sets (one set is a little more dramatic than the other but at least they are symmetrical) with longer outer edges. Glue this to the outer corner of your eye and you will look so Composed… obsessed with how this layers with three eyeliner tails (one traditional one pointing up and one pointing down directly below it, sort of like the tail light on a 2019 Lexus UX) and one below your eye, like a clown. Fun, irrelevant fact, is the first time I added this third tail to my eye makeup, my dad had just gotten home from the hospital because he was sure he had like appendicitis or something and it was actually.. Not that. Typical indie hypochondriac. He made me bring him cottage cheese on a plate with a teaspoon that evening. I put black pepper on it for flair, which he hated. Walking up and down stairs with a plate of cottage cheese is much more imprinting than most of the multiplication tables. Don’t forget to use a bright shimmer eyeshadow in your inner corner. It really opens up your eyes. I recommend Too Faced.  One time I got a little bit too high and tried to film an “editorial” makeup tutorial. You will never, ever, ever see that video. But I essentially covered my whole eyelid in the ABH shadow “palermo” and smudged out the edges with a tan Tartelette Toasted shade, coupled with my long-expired Milk Makeup holographic stick. Lopsided lashes and near-blinding eyeliner experience aside, it was kind of cool. My point is, you really cannot go wrong with an arsenal of shimmers, taupey mattes and a good eyeliner pen.

[encouleurdevie]

OKAY SO HEAR ME OUT. TIMOTHEE CHALAMET AT THE GOLDEN GLOBES. THE RINGS THAT HE WEARS GIVE ME A STROKE. YOU SHOULD WRITE SOMETHING INCORPORATING THOSE RINGS CAUSE... GODDAMN 🥵

Rings

a/n: …. sorry for disappearing for a while. send me ideas, i read them all, and i literally have google docs opened for all of them it’s just a matter of making myself be productive lol i love you. thank you for reading it means more than you’ll ever know

word count: 3100

“Be there in 5 minutes.” you typed as the taxi sped down the road towards a hotel that was much too fancy for your taste. But it was where Timothee was staying and you couldn’t say no to an invitation to come and take pictures of him before his big night. He was a nominee at the Golden Globes this year, and according to his previous texts, his stylists had gone all out for the occasion. One mirror selfie prompted you to pack your camera bag and hail a taxi to where he was staying. You were already drooling over how stunning his head-to-toe black outfit would look on your newest camera, which only shot in black and white.

As a photographer, you had a knack for capturing people at their best. It didn’t matter how confident they were or how camera shy they claimed to be, you had a way of making your subjects comfortable and carefree. People often told you that your photos were some of the most unique and beautiful they’d seen, which is how you had gotten to the point of photographing the enigmatic but easily recognizable faces of Hollywood. And it was going well, for the most part. Celebrities loved the attention they received after you released their photos. They loved feeling so special because of your attention to detail and poise behind the camera, and you loved the fact that they felt beautiful because of your photos. However, many of them would simply pay you for your time and then be on their way, never to speak to you again unless someone from their team of people reached out to you for another shoot. 

Timothee, however, was not one of these people. Months earlier, he had personally reached out to you online, expressing how much he liked your photos and how he’d love to do a shoot sometime. Nothing prepared you for the whirlwind of events that were to follow.

The first time you had taken his picture, you were blown away by how effortlessly attractive he was as he posed for you. The pictures turned out beautifully, but nothing could capture his essence as clearly as you could see it in person, so animated and electrifying. It would be a lie to say you weren’t smitten from the first click of your camera. As it turned out, Timothee was drawn to your passion for photography, your eclectic style, and the way your eyes looked when you stared at him carefully and told him how to pose. The second or third time you had taken his picture, a late night shoot on some of the hidden streets in LA, you had barely gotten ten pictures before he couldn’t stand it anymore and kissed you hard in an alleyway. You remembered waking up next to him, messy haired and in your underwear, the next morning. 

The photoshoots and secret rendezvous became routine, and before long you became a somewhat permanent member of his team, showing up to events and interviews and snapping photos. On the surface, you were merely his photographer, a background character in the spotlight of his life, but behind the dressing room door, he would be carefully undressing you and kissing you with a passion you didn’t know was possible. A secret affair from the public, and an erotic motivation for your art. 

As the taxi cab turned corners, you reminisced on the stolen kisses and the heat of his body moving against yours. When the hotel, in all of its high-end California glory, came into view, you shook your head in an attempt to get your mind back on the present. You thanked the cab driver and stepped out into the heat of Beverly Hills, walking quickly into the hotel lobby. 

Timothee had instructed you where to go once you were inside, so you made your way down the winding hallways until you found his room number. You knocked on the door twice, and waited. Within seconds, the door was yanked open and you were standing in front of the man who had come to be your muse. Timothee looked even better every time you saw him, and this time was no exception. The outfit looked even better in person than it had on your phone. The pristine black fabric of his shirt and pants fit his body snugly, and the small sequins that dotted his Louis Vuitton harness glinted in the light.

“Well hello, stranger,” he smiled.

“Hello, Mr. Fashion Man,” you replied, taking in the bold yet totally tasteful outfit.

He laughed his beautiful laugh and motioned for you to come into the posh hotel room which was decorated with various art deco furniture and paintings. Instead of having you set up in the indoor space, he walked across the room and out into an enclosed outdoor patio area.

“I was thinking this would be a cool spot,” he stated and looked at you for approval. You glanced around at the tall plants that bordered the small yard and admired the varying green hues of the space.

“This will be perfect,” you exclaimed, “but we need one thing.”

You dashed back into the room, and grabbed a tall metal chair that had caught your eye on the way in. You set it down in the grass, and made sure it was perfectly framed by leaves.

Timothee watched you closely, and smirked. “Always so full of ideas, aren’t you?”

You grinned at him and started unloading your camera bag onto a table just outside of the sliding glass door. You felt his eyes on you even after you looked away, making your heart beat ever so slightly faster.

“The newest addition to my collection,” you said proudly, reaching in your bag and then holding up your new camera. 

“Is that a film camera?” he stepped closer to you to see it better. And that was when you noticed them. As he reached up to try holding the camera, you noticed the small collection of rings positioned on his fingers. One on his pointer, one on his middle finger. You’d never seen him wear jewelry before and were taken aback by how good the rings looked on him. A tiny detail against the rest of his outfit, but a detail that for some reason made you lose all focus. As you gazed at his fingers, you realized you hadn’t answered his question.

“Yes. Um, yeah. I found it at an antique store last week and fixed it up.”

His eyes flicked up to you, obviously noticing the way you hesitated, and saw your eyes locked on his fingers as he held your camera. 

You brushed it off. “Anyway, I thought it would be cool to try it out. I forgot how much I love film.”

“Yeah. Okay, let’s do it.” He handed you the camera, and you noticed the way he made sure to brush his fingers against yours. This was going to be a long shoot if your mind kept wandering to other places, like it was starting to in that moment.

Timothee perched himself gently on the chair as you finished setting up the camera. When everything was ready to go, you brought the camera to your face, ready to start snapping away. The looks he was giving you could have melted iron. He knew exactly what he was doing too. As his eyes burned through the camera and he moved between poses, he began absently twisting the rings around his fingers. He moved them around, up and down his fingers, and spinning them around. 

The slight movement, paired with the fire in his eyes was making you squeeze your legs together. The rings were sexy, distracting, and clearly causing a lot of feelings to stir within you. His fingers were the only thing on your mind. You were always surprised at how he didn’t even have to say a single world. He just had to lock his big green eyes on yours and you were putty in his hands.

You pulled the camera away from your face, accidentally revealing your flushed cheeks.

“I just… um. I need to check something with the… uh… the shutter speed.” you said and it came out sounding more like a strangled whisper.

Timothee stood up instantly, and within seconds he was standing right in front of you. 

“No you don’t.” he cooed. You felt his presence so close to yours, and once again your eyes were glued to the rings on his fingers. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’re aching aren’t you?” 

You looked up at him, and that was the end of it. He took the camera from your shaky hands and bent down until his lips were pressed roughly on yours. If this was what getting busted for having dirty thoughts about Timothee meant, you would gladly accept the consequences. 

He started nudging you backwards into the hotel room, one hand on the small of your back the other reaching out to set the camera back in your bag. Obviously, you wouldn’t be needing that for a while. You reached up, still moving your lips messily against his, and clasped your hands behind his head, gently touching the curls that graced the back of his neck.

Timothee pulled away for a second, letting you both catch your breath. His demeanor had gone from the smiley boy who greeted you at the door, to a worked up and dominating version of himself. You could sense how worked up he was too, and how much he craved your body. Every time something like this happened between the two of you, it was like the first time. There was so much sexual tension between you and the second someone initiated anything it was like an explosion of repressed feelings. And it felt so good.

As soon as Timothee led you across the threshold of the room, he fell back onto a chair that had been pulled away from expensive-looking desk. He pulled you right on top of him so that your chests were right up against each other. You straddled his legs, causing your flowy skirt to bunch up around your thighs. Timothee’s hands followed the fabric, gently grazing the skin on your legs until he had a firm grasp on your hips underneath your skirt. As he traced his fingers along the waistband of your panties, you felt the rings against you, causing your breath to hitch. 

“I saw you looking at them, baby.” he whispered against your ear. “Thought you might like them.”

“Fuck.” you groaned against his neck. “They look so good…”

You pushed yourself closer to him, grinding your hips onto his and feeling the outline of his hardening cock beneath you. In a swift movement, he pulled one hand away from your waist and brought it back down on your ass quickly. The warmth of his hand coupled with the cool metal of the rings made you squeal in anticipation. His hands guided your body as you continued to rub your hips against his lower half.

“Stand up.” he directed, his voice coming out cool and confidently arousing. You climbed off his lap, painstakingly dragging your body away from his, despite only wanting to be touching him everywhere. You stood up on shaky legs between his knees as he looked up at you from where he continued to sit. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, his stare filled with desire. Calmly, and still gauging your reaction, he gathered the material of your skirt in his fists and tugged downward. The light fabric fell from your body smoothly and pooled around your ankles, leaving you in your blouse and lacy underwear in front of him. His eyes hungrily raked across your body.

You really couldn’t stand not touching him for a second longer, so you bent down and caught his lips in yours. His hands cupped your jaw as you licked into his mouth, and you dropped your hands to the top of his pants. You popped the first button open and fumbled around until your fingers worked the zipper down. He pushed up against you, still kissing you hard, just enough so that he could push his black pants down to his knees. 

“Now come back here.” he mumbled against your lips. You didn’t need to be told twice. You let your body fall back open, spreading your legs so that you were straddling him again, this time only underwear between your lower halves. Your draped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

Timothee snaked one hand up the back of your blouse, sending a shiver up your spine, and began inching the other hand down the front of your panties. 

“I know what you want, princess.” he whispered. “I know you’ve been thinking about my fingers since you walked in the goddamn door.”

He ran a finger teasingly across your slit, and his face broke into a cocky grin as soon as he realized how wet you were for him. His eyes were locked on yours with such intensity you felt like if you broke the stare you might burst into flames. He began rubbing his fingers in slow circles around your clit, eliciting a string of moans to come tumbling from your lips, which you were biting down on to try and stifle the noise.

But your mouth quickly fell open as he slowly, slowly pushed a finger into you. His face remained calm but he knew exactly what he was doing to you, knew exactly the way he made you feel. You whimpered as you felt his ring make contact with your entrance. 

“That feel good baby?”

You didn’t reply, but merely sighed heavily in response, feeling so worked up. 

“I said does that feel good baby.”

“Fuck.. yes I-” Before you could finish speaking he was inserting a second finger, and didn’t stop until both fingers were ring-deep inside of you. You could feel every inch of his fingers sending waves of pleasure straight to your brain. He stilled for a second, still with his fingers inside of you and tilted his face up to yours. He just looked at you, his face emotionless but stern, studying you closely. He was driving you crazy, edging you on, and still giving you that stupid look. This was exactly what you craved.

“Look at me.” he said. “Look me in the eyes when I touch you.” You dragged your eyes open to meet his only inches away. He pulled his fingers down and out in one quick motion, before sliding them right back in and starting up a rhythm. In and out, scissoring you open a bit, feeling your walls, rings colliding with your entrance each time he pushed his fingers back in. You dripped onto his fingers, covering his knuckles with your juices. Moans spilled from your mouth as you bounced lightly on his fingers. You gripped his shoulders, pulling at the black fabric that was still annoyingly on his body. The way Timothee touched you radiated this dominant energy despite the fact that you were on top. He had a way of making you feel like all of you was his, no matter what position you ended up in, and it drove you wild. 

You started feeling your stomach get tighter, teetering on the edge of cumming all over his fingers. He noticed this too and began pulling his fingers out of you, not ready to let you come apart just yet.

“Clean it up.” he said putting his fingers close by your face. You took his hand in both of yours and slowly licked up the mess you made on his fingers. Your brain felt fuzzy, still grasping for the high he denied you, and as you licked yourself off his fingers your heart pounded in needy anticipation. Timothee watched you with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. He began edging a hand down into his underwear, which were tight as his cock strained against them. You watched his jaw clench and unclench as he began pumping himself, getting harder and harder as you licked his fingers.

The sight was enough to throw you over the edge. You could not wait any longer. 

You let his hand drop from yours and you pushed yourself up and against him until the tip of his dick was right at your entrance. 

“You gonna fuck me, baby? You wanna ride my dick?” Timothee hissed.

You groaned in response and dropped your body down, letting his cock fill you all the way up until you bottomed out. A low, loud groan fell from his mouth and his hands found their way back to your hips. You allowed yourself to fixate on the feeling of him inside of you, filling you up so perfectly and sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

After a second of adjustment, his hands found your hips again, and began guiding you, up and down, roughly, against him. The rhythm got faster and faster, and you whimpered above him as the incredible sensations racked through your body. He groaned beneath you, loving the way your pussy felt around him and the way your nails dug into the skin on his shoulders. He leaned forward and placed open mouthed kisses along your collarbone which was peeking out over the top of your now very messed up blouse, as the two of you got closer and closer. 

You dropped your head down onto his shoulder as you felt yourself start to tighten around him. 

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god. I’m gonna cum.” you moaned into his neck, feeling his hot skin and the tight breaths coming out of him. 

“You look sooo good, Y/N,” he whined moving his hands to your ass and rocking you against him. It was like you couldn’t get close enough to each other, and your bodies moved together in hot quick motions. Timothee angled himself into you and you suddenly felt him so deeply, so electrically, so incredibly well. You felt yourself come apart around his cock, grinding your hips down into his and crying out as the pleasure flowed through your body. 

The intensity of your orgasm was enough to throw Timothee over the edge too. He fucked up into you roughly as you clenched yourself around him, still coming down from your own high. He moaned your name loudly in your ear as he came undone, cumming in hot spurts inside you, and still holding your hips tightly against him. 

His dominant aura began to disappear as he recomposed himself, and his face melted into a smile. 

“God, I’m so obsessed with you.” he said, breathing heavily.

You leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You’re my muse, Timothee.” You peppered more kisses on his cheeks and neck.

The smile stayed plastered on his face for the rest of the evening, and through the award show he attended later, where he beamed at the rest of the cameras, thinking about how none of them could ever compare to you.

[shooting-starry]

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Warning: extremely unedited, mentioned blood, implied fire, implied violence,

Previous//Next

Well almost perfect. The only problem was that he didn’t own any silk sheets. He had scratchy cotton ones. In alarm, Atsumu sat up straight and looked around the room. He was is a room with lightly coloured walls and a few plants which hung from the ceiling. Beside the door was a body length mirror with two coat hooks beside it. Next to where he sat was a beige bedside table with two drawers and a single daisy in a small glass jar and 2 doors which he guessed led to the closet. Directly across from him was a  desk with a small stack of books, a spiral bounded notebook, and a few pens. It was all crazy. How did he end up in this strange room, that was not his. And what baffled him more was the fact that he was on a bed. With silk sheet?!

Still in confusion, he walked up to the mirror,  wearing the slippers that were left by the bed. The distance could not have been more than 3 meters, but his legs felt stiff and wooden. Every step he took sent lightning bolt into his brain and breathing was the hardest task.

When he looked in the mirror, he could hardly recognize himself. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants that rod up to his knees, with bandages covering his thigh and knee poking out from the sweatpants. Large bandages were wrapped around his chest, covering some of his tattoos. His face wasn’t looking great either, there was a large cut from his eyebrow to his cheekbone that had straight looking stitches keeping it shut along with a swollen lip and a bruise above under his other eye. His arms also were heavily covered in bandages and stitches. His blond hair, which was typically swept to the side of his face neatly, was covered in soot and messed up. Memories of the pervious night flashed through his mind.

“Wait, then why am I here?”  He thought to himself. After what could have been an hour of careful deliberation, he reached the conclusion. He was kidnapped. He ran through the house of who ever took him and flew down the stairs and ran to where ever the front door was. In his crazed search for an exit. He hear a voice behind him.

“Oh good you are awake! Do you want anything to eat?” The voice asked. Astumu turned around to see the kidnapper, and he saw a girl. Her y/h/c framed her face and her y/e/c eyes stood out from the rest of her facial features. Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped? He doubted a lovely looking girl like this couldn’t have kidnapped him.

“Uh who are ya?” He asked. His throat was scratchy and his accent was much heavier than normal.

“I am L/n Y/n. Anyways what do you want for breakfast, eggs, porridge, onigiri ?” She asked. At the mention of food his stomach growled. He felt like he had not eaten in over a year. L/n laughed at this as she turned around and walked towards the fridge. Atsumu gingerly followed L/n, not sure if he should trust her or not. Well maybe he should. He is in an unknown with someone who is willing to make him breakfast? That sounds great. Except for the fact that he was covered in bandages, felt extremely weak, and was in this unknown lady’s house in an unknown location. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a plate being set down onto the long kitchen island. On the plate was an omelette with some vegetables. He sat down in front of the inviting meal. He decided he should at least know this woman if he was going to eat her food.

“Wait who are ya again?” He asked again. He was sure he sounded like an idiot.

L/n looked at him for a minute before responding. “Do you want to know my name or who I am?” She asked cheekily. Her question took Atsumu aback. Her eyes seemed to be peering into his soul as he looked at her. “The second one.” He responded when his mind finally comprehended her words.

“Well I am technically a doctor. I grew up in Tokyo and know I am here.” L/n said an expression of great thought. A doctor. That is a well respected profession. And besides doctors are trusted. So maybe he should trust her as well.

The omelette stared back at him with its beautiful yellow hue and the reds and greens of the vegetables she added. The first bite was heavenly. The explosion of flavours the egg was exquisite and the texture that the vegetables added? Perfect. He took another and another and another bite of the dish until there was none left. When he finally looked up, she were still looking at him.

“So maybe as a thank you, could you tell me who you are and what happened to you?” She inquired. It was a perfectly just question, but if she knew then the Boss would kill her. And someone who made such delicious omelettes should not die. So maybe he could lie. Yeah that was the best option. To lie.

This decision was a good decision, except he wasn’t good at lying. He was the fighter, while his twin brother, Osumu, was the manipulator. Even as kids, his mother could always tell when he was lying. In fact everyone could. But of course Atsumu didn’t even think about this. What a silly boy.

“A was umm, uhh m m mugged. Yeah totally. A was mugged.” He lied. L/n looked at him with great dissatisfaction spread across her face.

“So why was a yakuza mugged?” She asked. Damn. How did she know. Atsumu knew that he wasn’t as good as lying as his brother, but he was still decent. Astumu looked at L/n with a shocked expression coating his face, stuttering out “How did ya know?”.

L/n just pointed at his tattoos which went down both arms, across his back and some of his chest. His mouth hung open in surprise, or maybe shock at his own stupidity. Of course you would have known he was yakuza. He had the tattoos to prove it.

L/n walked around the kitchen island and got on her knees right in him.His mind raced in both anticipation and confusion. She placed her small dainty hands on his thighs and looked up at him with her doe eyes. While batting her eyelashes, she moved her hand to his bandaged thigh and squeezed. Atsumu doubled over  in pain and fell to the ground. Shrieks of pain escaped his mouth as she held him knee. It felt like electricity was firing through his body as he convoluted on the ground in pain on the cold, hard ground. He screamed as she mercilessly held his thigh in her small hand.

“Fine I will tell ya, ya crazy bitch!!” He screamed in an attempt to surrender. She let go of his thigh and let him catch his breath.

“Good. When ever you are ready.” She stated in a very matter-of-fact tone as she stood up from his body, which was spread on her kitchen floor. As Atsumu started to catch his breath, he attempted to stand up only to feel a wet patch growing on his bandage. When he looked down at his leg, the blood had already seeped through his bandage and his one-size-too-small sweatpants. He looked up to see L/n’s alarmed face as he lost more blood.

“Hey Dr. L/n, if ya could please help?” He asked as he gestured toward his leg.

“Wait, what? At least give me your name first.” She said stubbornly. Atsumu’s vision was starting to blur and he felt as if the world was spinning. 

“Can ya please help me first?” He asked, with the same stubbornness. The patch of blood on his leg was growing and he felt the blood trickle down to his ankle and onto the slipper under his foot. The slipper felt entirely soaked. In the background of the entire scene, he heard a door open.

“No. Tell me your name and then I will help you.” She retorted, oblivious to both the squeak of the door and the small puddle of blood on her kitchen floor. Atsumu felt his mind spinning faster than a merry-go-round, and his vision was blurrier than any selfie he had ever taken. Maybe this was the end. His vertigo was not doing to well as he felt his body shutting down.

“Miya Astumu” he said as he fell to the floor. The last think he remembered was your y/e/c eyes and a tall man with messy black hair and piercing cobalt blue eyes.

[keanureevesisbae]

So Henry, you want to start a YouTube channel? - Chapter 1

Summary: Twenty five year old YouTuber Sandy Choi has no idea that one of her five million subscribers is the one and only Henry Cavill. When he asks her to help him out with starting his own YouTube channel, she falls more and more in love with her. But she should’ve known that dating one of the most desirable bachelors, does come with a prize.

Henry Cavill x Sandy Choi (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, please let me know xx

Masterlist // Channel introduction // Previous chapter // Next chapter 

It is finally done. I somehow finished the final edits of my newest novel. I mean, I love the book with all my heart and I do think that it’s one of the best books I’ve ever written so far, but if I have to read it one more time, I’m going to scream. In about a week, the advanced reader copies will go to the first beta readers. It’s a nerve wrecking part, but it does mean that the moment my book is going to be on the shelves, is one step closer.

To celebrate this glorious event, I decide to go my favorite cafe and edit my next YouTube video. Other people meditate, do yoga or get some exercise in to relax. For me editing is my form of relaxation.

Never in a million years would I have imagined that I would have five million subscribers. Five million people around the globe enjoy watching my vlogs, while I highly doubt I’m that interesting. Sure, I nowadays do photoshoots, some editorials and I still dance quite a lot, but besides that, I’m homebody, who writes a lot and to get out of the house, visits cafes.  

I grab my backpack and start packing my laptop, the charger and my AirPods. I’m tempted to bring my Nintendo Switch with me, so I can play some Animal Crossing (I’ve been kind of neglectful of my island, sorry Tom Nook), but I leave my Switch in its charger.

Before I leave my apartment, I take a quick selfie, to upload for my Instagram Stories. It’s just a simple mirror selfie, showing off my outfit. Since it’s pretty hot outside (it’s July tenth and London has been trapped in a very intense heatwave), I opted for some high waisted denim shorts, a simple white crop top and some matching white sneakers. I do bring a white blazer with me, since the cafe usually has its air-conditioning on and I don’t want to freeze to death.

To be honest, before I got famous on YouTube, I never was impressed with my looks, my style or my life really. I had to celebrate my twenty first birthday alone, to realize I was pretty much wasting my life. Because of the weather, my plans to travel back to my family were cancelled and when I was staring at the cupcake with one candle on it, I realized I barely had memories from my time in college and I was already in year two.

I started to document certain moments in my life, but with all the footage I had of one whole week, I could make a two minute video out of it. But everything I filmed, had to be extravagant and then I asked myself: why does it have to be extravagant to be important enough to film? I should live my own life like I’m the main character, not a side character. I should romanticize life more. All of the sudden, I began noticing how beautiful the sky would look when I went outside for a walk, how the flowers start to bloom when it’s spring and how cozy certain cafes are.

When I uploaded my first YouTube video, I barely had subscribers, but all of the sudden more than thousand people thought my life was interesting enough to watch and a whole year later, I had 200k subscribers. I always figured that it would stay around that number, but once I graduated, published a book and moved to London, my subscriber count went up with a rapid speed. My 500k subscriber hit was unbelievable, my one million subscriber hit was beyond me, but hitting five million subscribers… It’s weird and thank God I have now reached a certain plateau, because seeing my subscriber count going up with the speed that it went back in the day, scared the living shit out of me.  

Once I’m at my favorite cafe, I order a cappuccino and some vanilla cake, before I sit down and get ready for some editing. I used to spend way too much time on editing my videos, but now I finally have found a way to be more efficient.

Time ticks by. I see multiple people leave, I order some ice tea and another soda to keep hydrated and finally I take my AirPods out and put them in their case. I’ve been here for a few hours now and I maybe should leave. I don’t want to overstay my welcome here.

Before I can get up, my phone rings and I pick up when I see it’s Lacey. We met on the plane to London. She went to UCLA, but moved back to England after she was done with school. She told me about what she was going to do in London—becoming a librarian and honestly, that’s a dream—and somehow we hit it off. She was my first and only friend here in London. Of course, through her I met multiple people that I like, but I’m always a bit awkward around them, just like I’m shy around practically anyone I have never met.

‘Hi La—’

‘I have a new fling and he is having a party tonight,’ she simply interrupts me.

‘So much for a hello,’ I chuckle. ‘What fling was this again?’

‘This is the guy I met at the zoo.’ For someone who is a librarian, she meets an awful lot of guys. When I think of a librarian, I think of an older lady with a pencil skirt and grey hair in an updo, but not Lacey, who rocks short skirts like no other. She usually has a new guy every week, but the guy from the zoo… I don’t know if I remember correctly, but I think he is around for more than a week.

‘Hasn’t he been around for like two weeks?’ I ask her.

‘Yes, he is.’

‘And you aren’t tired of him yet?’ I start to pack my bag, while I clutch the phone between my ear and shoulder. ‘What was his name again?’

‘His name is Jackson and he is such a handsome guy, so you want to join us for the party? You can say no, Sandy, because this guy has parties every other week.’

‘I just finished my deadline for the new book,’ I say. ‘I think I just want to chill at home, to be honest.’

‘Totally understand. You are one a hard working woman and I know that parties can be pretty stressful for you.’ I can hear her smile through her voice. ‘I’m really proud of you for finishing that book, always remember that.’

‘Thanks, Lacey. Say hi to Jackson from me and tell him I’ll meet him soon. If he is still around then, of course.’

Lacey starts to laugh. ‘Oh, this one will be still around. I really like this guy and every morning, he sends me a good morning text, including a bad joke.’

‘That is oddly adorable.’ I wave to the barista’s as I leave the cafe. Shit, it’s hot. Like I’m stepping into an oven. Thank God I packed my white bucket hat and I put it on, to prevent my dark hair from frying my brain.

‘It is. Oh, he is calling me. Love you, doll.’

‘Love you too. Have fun tonight.’ I hang up the phone, while I move slowly through the streets of London. I’ve never really been a party type. For me it’s always a chore, never a pleasant event.

Being heavily introverted as I am, I enjoy my time reading on the couch, being by myself. Sometimes I wished I had an animal to keep me company, but my landlord is an asshole and prohibits any sort of pet. Maybe one day I can finally move out here, find myself a better place and become happy there with a nice dog.

Maybe tonight I can film my newly updated evening routine. I haven’t done that in ages and a lot has changed since the last time I did it. For a second I’m doubting my earlier decision of not going to the party with Lacey, but I shake off that thought.

Tonight I’m staying home.

As usual.

⟢⟡⟣

Who needs an alarm, when the sun can wake you up, nearly blinding you in the process? I roll around in my bed and am about to drift away again, continuing the beautiful dream of me being wrapped in Henry Cavill’s thick arms on this Sunday morning, when my phone rings.

Groaning I push myself up, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. I sigh deeply when I see it’s Lacey who video calls me. ‘Why on earth do you want to video chat with me?’ I ask her with a sleepy voice, still groggy from just waking up. I rub my eyes, hoping that that will wake me up. After I filmed my summer night routine, I fell fast asleep and when I look at my alarm clock, I slept a whole nine hours.

Well done, Sandy.

‘I have been trying to call you since five a.m.. Why aren’t you picking up your phone?’ Lacey asks impatiently, looking genuinely annoyed.

‘Sometimes I wonder if you even hear yourself. I was asleep at five a.m., as a normal person does.’

Lacey rolls her big doll like eyes. She actually looks like those porcelain dolls, the same ones that my creepy neighbor back home collected and put on display for the entire neighborhood to see. Blonde curls bounce around her face and for someone who partied the entire night, she actually looks really good and is way too awake. ‘I have a story for you and normally I don’t want to talk you into feeling guilty, but for this occasion I’ll make an exception.’

‘That doesn’t explain why you want to video chat with me.’

‘Just wait.’

I sit up straight in bed, placing a pillow against my back, so I can lean against the headboard. I pull my knees up to my chest, to lean my arm on. ‘Tell me, Lacey, what happened?’

‘So, I arrived at the party around eleven and Jackson was waiting for me at the door. He was being a true gentleman, kissed my cheek and when we walked inside, he kept introducing me to people, saying how at the end of the night, I was going to be his girl. To spoil the end for you: I am his girl now and we had steamy sex back at his place.’

As fantastic as that may sound for her, why does she the need to share this with me? I mean, I am happy for her that this Jackson guy is a nice guy and if she is actually going to date him, that’s great, but I don’t want to hear it. It’ll make me feel even more single.

‘Anyways, while Jackson is introducing me, I feel someone is staring at me. So I look around me, only to find one guy watching me. I try to squint you know, to see who that guy is and I think to myself: wow, that guy looks an awful lot like Henry Cavill.’

I start to chuckle. ‘How much did you have to drink at that moment?’

‘None, totally sober. Jackson pulls me with him and eventually introduces me to his friend Henry Cavill.’

Oh my God, I think I forgot how to breath. ‘You are telling me that the guy who you met at the zoo, who is probably more than just a fling to you and threw a party last night, is friends with the Henry Cavill?’

‘The same Henry Cavill you refuse to follow on Instagram, because you can’t handle that much gorgeousness on your feed.’

No need to attack me like that, I think to myself. I just woke up and was hit with the realization that I could’ve met Henry Cavill last night, but I didn’t want to go to a party. Tip for next time: always say yes when this Jackson guy is throwing a party.

‘Moving on with the story, Henry—yes, I’m on a first name basis with him—kept gawking at me and finally he asked me if we knew each other. I shrugged, telling him how I’m just a simple librarian, that usually doesn’t mingle with hot celebrities. Later on, I don’t know how exactly Jackson, Henry and I got to that topic, but I casually said something along the lines of that I’m friends with the Sandy Choi. Henry nearly loses all the color in his face and Jackson starts to laugh his ass off.’

Where is this story going? What the hell is going on?

Lacey starts to laugh out loud and manages to add: ‘Jackson tells me that mister Henry Cavill is a huge fan of yours and literally drops everything whenever you post a new video and how he had an almost heart attack when you mentioned him in your July first vlog. According to Jackson, he has been questioning your comment saying that you haven’t had your fair share of Henry Cavill today ever since.’

This isn’t happening. This honestly can’t be happening right now. Lacey is totally messing with me. ‘Sure.’

‘I can see you are questioning my fantastic story, so let me show you this then.’ She shares her screen with me and shows me a picture of her, this Jackson fella and Henry fucking Cavill, looking insanely handsome as he usually does. His hair is slightly growing out, revealing some lovely curls of his and he is wearing a white blouse. The buttons are hanging on for dear life. I’m mentally kicking myself. Why didn’t I go to this party? I mean, I would’ve probably embarrassed myself, but still: I could’ve admired him from a far. In real life.

Lacey stops sharing her screen with me and smiles widely in the camera. ‘And Jackson mentioned something about pressuring him into following you on Instagram and sliding into your DM’s, but mister Cavill is petrified of doing such thing, so… I decided to give him your number and I think he already texted you.’

I swipe the video chat away, while I start looking through my Whatsapp chats. I see I have some messages from my manager, my editor, my dad and an unknown number.

‘Did he text you?’

I click on the chat, ignore what it says and press on his profile picture. ‘It’s him,’ I say. ‘It’s really him.’ I admire the photo for a second. His thick and strong arms wrapped around his dog. God, I was dreaming about something like that just minutes ago and now all of the sudden, he has my number?

‘What did he write?’

I check the chat and see that the man wrote a paragraph, instead of multiple tiny texts. That is absolutely adorable.

‘I can see you and your grin,’ Lacey says, reminding me that I might’ve swiped away the video chat, she can indeed still see me. ‘Come on, Sandy, read it to me. I deserve to know what he wrote, since I’m the reason he has your number and texted you in the first place.’

She has a valid point and to be fair, I’d probably share it with her anyways. Best to do it now. ‘Hi Sandy, I swear I’m not a creepy stalker. I’m Henry Cavill and I met your friend Lacey at the party last night. She was kind enough to give me your number. I have no idea what she told you about last night, but I just wanted to let you know that your vlogs really help me to get through my days and that you are truly an inspiration to all young people out there.’

‘This is legit the cutest thing that has ever happened!’ Lacey squeals.

Though I agree, I keep staring at the text. This is what he thinks of me? He thinks I’m an inspiration to all young people out there? My videos help him through his day? ‘I’m going to hang up,’ I say to Lacey, ‘and figure out what to text him back.’

‘Wait,’ she says, ‘you’re not going to tell me what you texted back to Henry fucking Cavill?’

I pull up our video conversation again and shake my head. ‘No, I’m not. Thank you for giving him my number, Lacey, but please don’t make a habit out of it. Thank you. Love you. Bye.’

Before I can hear what she has to say, I hang up on her and look at his text again. My heartbeat is finally normalizing again, though my palms are still sweaty. I need to text him back, because that is a polite thing to do.

But what do I text back to a man like him, especially after he told me such a nice and lovely things? I mean, how do I top that? I can tell him the things I told Lacey whenever we would watch something that he starred in. I could say that I thought he was hot in the Witcher or that they should’ve included shirtless scenes of him in Mission Impossible. I could—

Oh my God, he is online!

I nearly die of panic, throwing my phone away from me on the bed. Maybe hanging up on Lacey was the dumbest thing I could’ve done. I need her help. She knows what she could say to him.

Lord knows how long I’m thinking about a response and I know that I should text him back. I finally wrote something and before I can regret it, I press send.

Sandy: Hi, Lacey indeed told me about last night. I honestly can’t believe that you watch my vlogs and that they help you get through your days. Hearing kind words like these from any subscriber honestly means the world to me 😊

And now we wait. He wasn’t online when I pressed send, so I probably won’t get an answer from him any ti—

Ping.

He already answered? Oh no, no, no, I have to let this moment sink in for a second. He can’t already texted me back. Please, let this be my mother, telling me I need to take my cod liver oil, please let this be her.

Henry Cavill: Do I want to know what she told you?

This sounds cheeky, I can handle cheeky. I can answer to this. I’m an adult woman, who is just texting with someone who is a fan. I can handle fan encounters.

Sort of.

Besides, I can think about the right response, so this is only in my advantage.

Sandy: Just that you are a big fan of my vlogs and drop everything when I post a new video.

Henry Cavill: Right, that’s not too bad, I guess.

Sandy: And that according to your friend Jackson, you almost had a heart attack when I mentioned you in my vlog and you have been questioning my fair share of Henry Cavill of today comment.

Henry Cavill: Great…

Sandy: It’s kind of flattering to be totally honest with you.

Henry Cavill: I’m just dying of embarrassment, give me a minute.

I can’t help but to chuckle. It’s weird, that I’m actually talking to Henry Cavill right now. Who would’ve ever thought that that would happen to me? I decide not to share the Instagram and sliding into my DM’s story that Lacey shared with me.

Sandy: I hope that Lacey haven’t told any embarrassing stories about me.

Henry Cavill: Just that you went to Mission Impossible: Fall Out three times in the cinema and that you commented all those three times that there wasn’t enough of me in it.

Okay, now it’s my turn to die of embarrassment. I feel like he is sparing me the need to fall into a deep hole of embarrassment, since he doesn’t mention Lacey adding to it that there wasn’t enough ass and the lack of shirtlessness on his part, because I said that all those three times as well. I know my friend and I know that she told him that.

Sandy: Right… I’m sorry.

Henry Cavill: It was pretty flattering and good for my ego 😉

⟢⟡⟣

Henry—yes I’m on a first name basis with him now as well, but I have yet to change his name in my phone—and his texts have caused tiny disasters around my apartment.

I burned my pancakes, because he kept distracting me with texts, causing the fire alarm to go off. Because I wanted to shut the thing up, I had to stand on a chair, but my brain was still with those texts, so I nearly broke my neck when I fell off it.

While I was filling the kettle with water, I forgot the tap was still running, causing the thing to overflow with water. I stubbed my toe not once, not twice, but three times on the same table leg.

But despite that, talking to Henry has been such a nice thing all morning and the first half of the afternoon. He keeps on complimenting me on my editing, saying what his favorite moments are in my vlogs, while I on my term share about the favorite moments of his interviews, his movies. It’s obvious that we are fans of one another, so having it out in the open, doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable.

But nothing prepares me for his latest text.

Henry Cavill: I’m going out for a walk with Kal, since it’s cooling down now. You want to join us?

I know I should answer him and I should answer him now, but I keep pacing around my living room. Going out with him on a walk, means talking to him. Like using my vocal cords to communicate with him, talking to him. Am I ready for that? What if I disappoint? I’m probably going to disappoint.

I take a deep breath. You didn’t went to the party last night, so you should go now, Sandy, I tell myself. You can do it. He is inviting you, meaning he wants to hang out with you. That is a good sign.

Sandy: Sure, I just need to get ready. I think I’m ready in about thirty minutes.

Henry Cavill: I’ll share my location, so you know where to go to, okay?

Taglist: @flhorah​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @toomanystoriessolittletime​

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Little Bad Habits (Dating MC)

– Zen –

Litter. Everywhere. Not permanently, he’s not that much of a slob, he does do chores regularly and stuff. But he just ... tosses his clothes and cigarette wrappers and other things literally everywhere, and leaves it for ‘later’. 

Since he’s so anal about his health, he kinda disrupts your own eating habits by coincidence. Grocery shopping can be a challenge when he’s forbidding all desserts and snacks from the cart even though he’s not gonna be eating any of it.

He's bad with technology, so good luck trying to get him to do stuff like answering emails, or paying bills online, or even using apps like Yelp or Uber. You end up in charge of most software in the house. 

It’s sweet that he texts you with random pickup lines and pictures three times a day, but damn it I keep thinking it’s something important I’m expecting, and instead it’s just one of your bathroom selfies with a heart drawn in the fogged up mirror. 

Zen, can you not have these bad tepid takes like ‘women look better without makeup’, or ‘being the man of the house is the mark of being an adult’, or ‘those who couldn’t work for every penny they’ve had don’t deserve it’? No, Zen, let me pout you’re being an idiot right now.

– Yoosung –

AXE bodywash, AXE bodyspray, AXE shampoo. He uses it because it’s ‘manly’? But god it’s so strong and synthetic-smelling. He needs your help in moving away from this brand. 

He’s also prone to clutter, even more so than Zen. It takes a while before he stops leaving all his laundry on the floor and takes that extra step in hanging it up, or folding it into his dresser. And good luck trying to get him to wash dishes every day, rather than leaving it overnight. 

It’d be nice if you were more enthusiastic about my interests, Yoosung. You may not enjoy visiting Sephora as much as I do, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t abandon me at the doorway to hang out at GameStop. 

He does a bunch of these little roommate mistakes like using up all the hot water, or not refilling the Brita, or always leaving the empty toilet paper roll for you. Yoosung, you gotta learn how to live with another person!!

He’ll always be prone to jealousy, which doesn’t cause a problem most days, but if you ever become a fan of some idol or celebrity, be prepared for some pouting, maybe even a cold shoulder or two. He can’t even side-eye the TV like he does catcallers or people on the street, so he’s twice as frustrated. 

– Jaehee –

She’s bad at recycling. She didn’t even do it for a long time, and only started recently. Even now, she’ll toss random plastic bits into either container, paying no mind to whether it’s recyclable or not. She won’t rise milk jugs or tin cans before throwing them away. 

Now that her hair is growing out, she sheds it everywhere. RIP the shower drain, the carpet, the furniture. The two of you gotta invest in rubber mops and lint rollers just for her hair.

She’s a very clean and organized person, except for her makeup, which all sits in a dusty old bag with old leaking bottles getting over everything, brushes and sponges she doesn’t wash, and literally every product is old and expired. And then she kisses you with her lipstick on and causes an acne breakout. 

When she settles down to watch TV while relaxing, she likes to turn her flatscreen up waaayy loud, which is fine unless you’re working on something and the noise is just so distracting. Jaehee, I’m trying to do the books on the cafe, you gotta turn Zen’s musical down!

When she gets colds, she sometimes hides it as long as she can, which makes everyone around her get colds too. She may have been able to avoid a couple of boring sick days, but now you’ve got a sore throat. Thanks, honey, I love you too. 

– Jumin –

He kept calling you in the middle of the day with full expectation that you’d answer every single time, especially during the beginning of the relationship. Jumin, I’ve got my own work. It’s okay if I miss a message or two, I’m not your employee.

He has a physical trainer, dietician, and physician regime that he follows rigorously, and he kinda expected you to do the same even if you didn’t want to. Even now, he brings up a nutrition plan once and a while, even if you are totally not interested in following a food calendar. “It’s for your health, love,” well, Jumin, my health calls for a big bowl of barbecue chips. 

He’s surprisingly clingy in bed. The two of you fall asleep in the middle of the mattress, and by morning you’re hanging on for dear life at the edge of the bed while Jumin is pushing as close to you as humanly possible. More than once you’ve been rudely awakened by falling out of bed and hitting the hard marble floor. 

Jumin, stop entering the bathroom while I’m on the toilet, or in the shower! I close the door for a reason. No it’s not like I wanna avoid you, I just wanna shit in peace

He sometimes makes plans without your input, which works for surprises, but not so much for dinner at the Galaria and he’s already downstairs waiting for you while you’re totally not ready. 

– Saeyoung –

All that Phd. Pepper has to go somewhere, and it tends to escape out of both orifices, so to speak. 

No joke, the boy is gassy. And he teases you with it, like making himself fart right when you decide to sit next to him on the couch just to hear you “EWW!!” and squirm away. You’re lucky you’re cute, 707. 

Even when his work schedule becomes more normal, he still doesn’t keep a regular schedule. He does stretches of days where he stays up until 4am, then he spends the next week sleeping 14 hours a day. It can be hard to spend time with someone who’s either dead tired when you’re awake, or super hyper when you’re about to sleep. 

He’s very particular when it comes to his cars. You can’t eat or drink in them, not even gum. You can’t put your feet anywhere except squarely in the footrests, god forbid you absentmindedly rest them against the dashboard. No picking at the leather, no scratching the carbon fiber, you can pet the soft velvet but you’re on thin ice. 

Saeyoung, can you shower more, please? You smell like old ham and your hair isn’t doing so good either. Yes, I will give you a kiss, but only if you hop in the bathtub right now. 

– Saeran –

Like his brother, his sleeping schedule is wack. He’ll spend several all-nighters and then clonk out for a long while, too tired to do anything. And not because of work, either, he just doesn’t have a good sleep schedule. 

Loves to cook, hates to clean. Leaves all the dirty dishes, pans and pots, and countertops for as long as humanly possible, which means someone else is usually the one stuck cleaning it all up. It gets better when the household arranges duties for everyone so Saeran’s in charge of meals while another cleans up afterwards, but even then it can still get dirty.

Sweats in his sleep, which is further exacerbated by some of his medication. Sleeping next to him means sticky skin and wet bedsheets. He has to wash his pajamas every other day.

You gotta hide your sweets or else Saeran’s gonna steal them. He stress-eats during his worse days, and besides that he’s just got a monster sweet tooth, so he’ll finish his entire pint of ice cream and steals yours, too. Then he finds your hidden package of gingersnap cookies and oops, there goes your snack.

He hates having his hair cut, it’s a weird sensory experience for him and he gets anxious while having to sit still for so long. He won’t go to the salon so he tries to cut it himself, which hogs up the bathroom for two hours and leaves shed hair all over the sink. Once you start helping him, he feels better about the experience.

– Jihyun –

He cannot be trusted with the laundry. He shrinks all the knitwear, keeps forgetting to clean the lint tray, and all his whites are no longer white. You gotta be in charge if you don’t want your wardrobe to end up like his. 

Jihyun, I know you grew up with money but when the toilet is clogged you don’t call the plumber, you take this plunger and try to unclog it yourself with bleach. And no, we don’t need a new refrigerator just because the light bulb burst. 

He’s surprisingly tough to sleep next to in bed. You eventually get used to it, but for a while you kept getting kicked by his long limbs, or getting punched by a flailing arm. And he drools, too, sometimes onto your hair. 

Why. Do you. Clip your nails on the bed. Ew, stop that. 

He’s prone to getting caught up in hipster food trends, like superfood phenomenons. Jihyun, you know that apricot pits are poisonous, right? I know the co-op recommended them but I gotta feel like that’s a marketing gimmick. Please don’t eat them, put those down. 

[reyna0w0]

Heterochromatic Soulmates

➵ Zen x gn!reader

➵ Zen belongs to Cheritz

➵ Oneshot

➵ W.C: 1.7k

»»—————————————♡ —————————————««

You’re window shopping with your friend, Yura; your heterochromatic eyes reflecting the clothes inside the shops. Left eye (e/c) and right eye crimson red. You sigh, “I really want that. I’m so broke though.”

“I know right! Let’s get ice cream instead,” Yura says, dragging you.

Moving through many people in the plaza while your words drowned in the noise of the crowd. Yura is chattering on top of her lungs though. You walk past a pair of tall guys, immediately feeling faint. You wonder if you forgot to take your iron pills. You stop in your tracks and Yura turns back, “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God! (Name)! Y-your eye!” Yura yells.

“What?” You groan, feeling like you might pass out.

“Your eye color! Your red iris is gone! You’ve met your soul mate!” She yells, freaking out. 

She rummages through her bag and produces a small mirror, bringing it up to your face. You definitely see that both your eyes are (e/c) now but it quickly flickers away and your red iris is back. 

Everyone is born with heterochromia; left eye, your original eye color, and right eye, your soulmates’ eye color. When you meet your soulmate, you’ll feel faint as the hue of your right iris changes to match your left iris. But this change is only for a moment and not permanent. Only when you and your soul mate have some kind of physical contact then you will regain your original eye color in both eyes as will they.

You don’t have the biggest interest in this soulmate business but Yura loves the concept. She looks around to figure out who it is but it’s a busy plaza and people are moving quickly.

“Aww, how will you find them now?” Yura whines.

“I don’t particularly care about it. You know people can lead perfectly normal lives even without their soulmates,” You roll your eyes.

“But meeting your soulmate is so romantic!” She retorts.

You sigh deeply, “Let’s get that ice cream.” 

The two of you continue to the ice cream parlor.

~

Somehow, you got roped into hosting a party at this charity organization. You didn’t even want to be asked why you even agreed in the first place. Well, you were lowkey threatened to stay and do the job; but you don’t talk about that. Because it turned out way better than you expected when you first joined; terrified out of your wits, not knowing what exactly you signed up for. 

Luckily, they were all genuinely good people, and the time leading up to the party, you learned more about every member. From Zen to Yoosung to Jaehee to Jumin to Seven. Jumin and Seven were more on the mysterious side, especially Seven but you got along with him, Yoosung and Jaehee. And most of all, Zen. 

Those beautiful eyes; one bright crimson and one beautiful (e/c). Of course, the possibility of Zen being your soulmate did cross your mind but it was quickly ruled out. You didn't believe much in the soulmate thing and you didn't think coincidences like this happen. Like what were the chances? Besides, many people had similar-colored eyes. 

You and Zen got along swimmingly. You found him extremely attractive but as the days passed and you chatted with him you started to love his personality. Definitely a bit of a narcissist...okay no lies...a huge narcissist. He was kind at heart and very caring. Also madly affectionate and you loved it when he used endearing words to call you. At first, you just thought he was a pretty boy but as time passed and the both of you shared conversations; you quickly noticed that you were falling fast. Really fast and no one could stop it. 

You were hit by the sudden realization of your feelings and flustered about it. The realization that the party was right around the corner was the trigger to you realizing your feelings. You were so excited and nervous to meet Zen for the first time in person. You were comforted by his words in a text and his voice in calls but seeing in real life and flesh and blood was a whole different story. 

The party day drew closer in a blink of an eye. Hours before the party, you found yourself in a mess. Cursing yourself for not deciding on an outfit suitable for the party. You rummaged through your closet, throwing clothes out, filling up the entire apartment with clothes. 

You groaned in frustration as you stared at the 3 outfits laying on your bed. Messing up your hair, you decided to send photos of each outfit to Seven. You and Seven got along pretty well since you both had a similar sense of humor. By the day of the party, you both were pretty tight. You sent him the pictures and asked for his opinion as you flopped onto your bed, sighing. 

Normally, you wouldn’t care about your outfit but this time, you did. All because you were going to meet Zen for the first time. You never thought you’d be like this; like Yura. Zen just made you feel things you never felt before. You couldn’t even explain it. All you decided to do was to cherish it. Though, you never thought that he’d feel the same way ever. 

Seven texted back really quickly saying he liked the second outfit you sent. Taking his opinion, you changed. Finally, you were done with your outfit, on making yourself look presentable as the party host, well, mostly for Zen. 

Your heartbeat sped up slightly as you got excited about the party. You’d finally meet everyone in real life and not through a screen. You felt jittery as your stomach did a couple of flips. 

Finishing up some final touches, you took one look at yourself in the mirror and headed out. Taking a bus and walking a few meters, you stood before the party hall. Bracing yourself, you pushed the doors open. Some finishing touches were being made to the hall, supervised by the brown-haired assistant. You smiled, walking up to her, “Jaehee!” 

“Is that you (Name)?” She said.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” You said, excitement filling your belly. 

Meeting her in person was way different than texting online. 

“It’s lovely to meet you in person,” Jaehee smiled.

You excitedly asked, “Who else is here?”

“Mr. Han is arriving shortly. Yoosung and Luciel are coming together. Zen said he’ll be here in a while,” Jaehee answered. 

As soon as she said that, Jumin joined you guys. 

“Mr. Han,” Jaehee said.

“Assistant Kang and I presume you are (Name),” Jumin said, matter-of-factly. 

“Yes! Pleased to meet you, Jumin!”

“Likewise,” Jumin replied.

“(Name)!” 

You heard a familiar voice call out. You turned to the source of the voice. You saw Yoosung run up to you at full speed, Seven trailing right behind.

Yoosung ran up and gave you a bone-crushing hug. 

“You’re going to suffocate her,” Seven commented, laughing. 

Yoosung let go real quick, “Sorry! I got too excited! It’s so nice to see you at last, (Name)!”

“Happy to see too, Yoosung,” You flashed a smile.

“You too, Seven,” You added, giving him a fist bump.

“Just Zen left now,” Jaehee said. 

Hearing his name sends butterflies to his stomach. You couldn’t wait to see him, wondering if he looked even better in real life. The anticipation made your stomach twist and convulse in a way it never did before. The effect he had on you was unreal. 

You continued talking to the rest of the party as most of the preparations were done and the party was officially starting soon. 

You were laughing at a joke Seven made but suddenly, you felt faint; a wave of nausea swept into you. You grimaced a little and you heard a voice, “(Name).”

You turned to the owner of the voice, clutching your chest. Your heterochromatic eyes flickered to the person who called you; eyes locking each other’s as it immediately changed colors. 

“Zen…,” You murmured. 

“You’re my soulmate,” He smiled, his now both crimson eyes staring into yours as he took your hand and pressed it to his lips. 

Nausea disappeared immediately after your eyes changed colors. But now you felt your heart in your throat as you looked at the breathtaking man in front of you; unable to utter a single word.

He was way more handsome than you could ever imagine. His selfies didn’t do him justice. Those bright crimson irises, silky smooth silver hair that fell beautifully on his face, the stance he took, the aura he emitted; all made him seem more ethereal than you could have imagined. 

“Z-Zen,” You finally found words to utter his name. 

You couldn’t believe it that he was your soul mate.

“You were the one who I crossed paths with at that plaza a while ago where my eyes temporarily changed…,” You muttered.

“Yeah,” He smiled.

~

On the other hand, Zen is out shopping with Yoosung at the very same plaza. He crosses paths with you and feels lightheaded. Being the sucker for romance he is, he whips his head back, looking around. He is absolutely certain he has met his soulmate. Yoosung looks at him confused until he realizes that both his eyes are crimson red. 

“Your soulmate!” Yoosung yells.

“Yes yes, I know!” Zen says, looking around frantically but to no avail. 

The crowd moves quickly and they are getting swept away by it. 

“Damnit, missed them,” Zen curses. 

~

Surprise on your face, you stuttered out, “I can’t believe it.” 

“I can. The moment we started talking on the messenger, I felt a connection,” Zen said. 

Heart beating out of your chest as Zen moved closer to you, entwining your hands with his; pressing his forehead to yours, “I’m so happy you’re my soulmate.” 

You stared at his eyes as it reflected your own; feeling like there was no one in the hall other than you two. The other members’ comments turned into a muffle as everything turned blurry except for the man who is your soulmate in front of you. 

[starlocked01]

Beautiful Mistakes

AO3 @tsshipmonth2020

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary-  Remy can't think before he has his coffee and that causes problems for him and his soulmate.

A/N- Slightly altered so that the marks disappear a few minutes after they’ve been received.

Day 9 Remile- Whatever you draw on your skin shows up on your soulmate

Emile could feel the slight itch on his cheek that indicated a message from his soulmate had appeared. He flushed with embarrassment but kept his composure. He quickly scrawled on his wrist.

Not now, Rem. I'm with a client.

He turned back to his patients with a smile and his wrist itched as Remy replied.

Oops

"Doc, you okay?"

"My apologies, my soulmate likes to send messages when he wakes up. Except he works… at night," Emile sighed, affectionately yet exasperated.

"Well the flags look cute, I guess as long as you're okay with your patients knowing..." Dot smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Emile paled, "he didn't…"

"I think he did," Larry replied.

Emile put a hand to his cheek, "it's a pride flag isn't it?"

"Oh don't worry, Doc! It's so cute! Larry, isn't it cute?"

"He's going to be rather upset with me. I can't check it, and he's not out at work yet… but enough about me, back to Dorry! Or if you prefer, Larrydot?? " Emile grinned despite the looks of confusion the couple were giving him. His cheek and wrist continued to itch but he insisted on staying focused on the session.

By the time Larry and Dot were leaving, the itching had crawled up his forearm. Remy must be rather upset.

He checked his watch. The next appointment was in 20 minutes. He could take 5 to read through the tirade and would still be able to review notes for the next couple. He rolled up his sleeve to see a block of text that grew more frantic the farther it got up his arm.

Babe check out the drawing!

I worked hard on that girl pls appreciate me

Em i have work in an hour

Look. At. Your. Cheek.

This isn't funny!

Okay it was supposed to be funny but i can't have a gay flag on my face at work they will kill me!!!!

Bitch

Bitch

You don't love me im gonna die because you don't love me

No one is gonna believe me if i have to lie about this

Please????

>:[

Emile chuckled and wrote back quickly.

This is your fault for drawing on your cheek. You know I work and can't check messages right away.

He checked the time again and pulled out his phone, opening the camera app. He admired the little gay flag crossed with a pan flag. He took a quick selfie to preserve the drawing on his phone. It really was sweet, if unfortunately timed. Luckily, most of his clients would be fairly understanding. Remy's coworkers on the other hand would not.

The tirade on his arm had faded and  been replaced with a new line from Remy.

Don't judge me I didn't have my coffee yet girl

Emile chuckled and pulled his sleeve back down, finding the file and notes he had for the next couple's session.

Remy sat in his car, obsessively checking the mirror until the flags on his cheek faded away. The last thing he needed was to get outed by a soul mark. He was usually late anyway because of the line at Starbucks, what harm would one more day do?

A lot of harm, apparently.

His boss was waiting by the loading dock, impatiently tapping his foot as Remy strolled up.

"'Sup? What are we-"

"Don't even bother clocking in. You don't do shit here and this is the fifth time you've been late this month. You're done."

Remy sputtered, "this is homophobic!"

His boss stared hard at him, eyes narrowing, "You're lazy and you're gay? You're FIRED!"

"Whatever! Your loss, you prick!" Remy turned and flipped the man off as he walked back to his car. He got in and locked the doors, taking some deep breaths. He considered writing to Emile, but decided this was probably an in-person topic.

He restarted the car and drove home, mentally preparing for a lot of explaining.

Emile was surprised to see Remy's car in the driveway when he got home and more than a little concerned. He parked and hurried inside. He found his soulmate sitting in the dark, sipping coffee, and scrolling instagram.

"Remy? Are you okay?"

"Got fired."

"Oh my stars! What happened?"

Remy gave an exasperated sigh, "he didn't like me being late. He also blamed me being gay so idk maybe there's a lawsuit there."

"Was it because of the flags? I tried to check as soon as possible…"

"No… I'm usually late anyway," Remy sank deeper into the couch and Emile moved to sit down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe it was time for a career change. You can find somewhere more accepting with less crazy hours."

"Maybe I'll become a stripper. They make good money right?" Remy mused, leaning into Emile’s side. The other man wrapped him in a one armed hug.

"While I am sure you'd be a natural, I'd be very concerned for your safety as a sex worker, dear. What about something you're passionate about?" Emile tried to be encouraging, numbers running through his head calculating exactly how long they could live off a single salary.

The outlook was not super promising.

"Don't worry, babe, I'll do some research tonight and fill out some applications. Promise," Remy gave Emile a smile that was skin deep, "what do you want for dinner? I'm starving."

After a week of Remy submitting applications and hearing nothing back, Emile was about ready to suggest the exotic dancer route himself. It wasn't that they were under financial stress (yet), moreso that Remy was a lot more rambunctious being cooped at home during the night. He kept waking Emile up too early and the loss of sleep was starting to affect his clients.

"Hey Doc? You're kinda unusually quiet today…"

Emile shook himself back to alertness, "sorry about that Elliott, where were we?"

"Um," they tapped their fingers together while thinking, "I think I was talking about how my soulmate never writes back. They check every message but I never get any from them. It doesn't… feel good."

"Remember what we've said before, Elliott, your worth isn't based on your soulmate. Whatever reason they choose not to write back, the fact of the matter is that you're still an amazing and powerful person in your own right."

Emile was interrupted by an itching on his wrist. Remy would usually still be asleep by now it was late enough in the morning.

He resisted the urge to check the mark as he spoke with Elliott and he could feel the itch crawling up his arm.

After the session, Emile quickly pulled up his sleeve, praying for good news.

I GOT IT!!!

Finally got an interview for tomorrow!!

<3 <3 <3

There were several more hearts and Emile allowed himself a small smile of relief. He doodled back a heart or two for Remy before returning his focus back to work.

They could celebrate when that interview turned into a position.

He greeted the next couple with a broader smile and a tad more exuberance, much to their dismay.

Remy was nervous. This job sounded too good to be true and they'd practically hired him on the spot. He wasn't about to let his soulmate down though.

He followed the man down the hall, sipping his tea for comfort.

"Honestly just don't let anyone eat anything inedible or hit each other and you'll do great," the man smiled, showing Remy into a room with a dozen kids and two other frazzled looking adults.

Piece of cake right?

Emile was in the middle of a session when he felt the itch on his cheek. He tried to smile through it, but then he felt more itches on his legs and arms and nose. His clients were too preoccupied actually talking through their issue with each other so Emile checked his arm to find a rainbow of scribbles that kept growing.

He put a hand to his face to cover his nose and cheek. What had Remy gotten himself into?

Pretty soon his clients were used to seeing Emile with colorful marks all over his face. He explained that his soulmate worked with kids and almost everyone nodded knowingly. He did ask that if they ever saw an inappropriate drawing they let him know so he could check it right away.

Some days he would draw little cartoons for the kids to fill in. They loved that and he always sent them little hearts back when they did a good job (they always did a good job).

And most importantly, Remy was having a great time with his job and got to be home at nights, so they saw each other a lot more often. They both enjoyed that.

[apterydek]

After a year of jockhood

A year of jockhood came and went, daily workouts, buzzed head, sweaty gym shorts. Though you were stronger and more comfortable than ever, you missed being preppy. Looking back at the old photos from when you wore chinos and polos instead, you remembered how you felt then: disappointed you weren’t living the jock life.

“I’m not sure what to do,” you confess to Sir. He’s the one putting you through your paces, holding you to your meal plan. He was the one who gave you your first buzz, clippers set to 1. “Though I’m living my fantasy, and I feel confident, I keep feeling like I’m missing out on all the other versions of me. This was supposed to be my final transformation, and despite all the mental training, I just can’t stick with it. I’m sorry Sir, I fear I’ve disappointed you. I know you’ve put so much effort into training me.”

Sir isn’t angry, nor let down. He’s pensive, eyes out of focus, forehead furrowed. Then, with a sudden smile, he starts: “Boy, it’s no problem. I’ve seen this before. Sensed that it might happen. It’s just that I wanted you to have the full jock experience you were so dedicated to when we first started. I know just what to do. Another year of training—”

“Another year?” you blurt in disbelief.

“Shush, boy,” he continues, stern now. “This year will be unlike the last year. Rather than get you deep into one identity, we’ll change things up every month. We’ll explore all the different versions of you. Then decide what to do next. Who knows, maybe you’ll be begging to go back to jock mode.”

Your mouth is open. “W..well…” you say, processing what Sir’s suggesting. It tingles, excitement gripping you, and you decide to comply. “Yes Sir!” you shout. He’s already thinking of what you’ll become, and within the week, you’re given your first identity.

January you kept your hoodies and trainers, but grew out your hair slightly on top even as the sides were shaved. You wore a steel necklace and a tracksuit. Manspreading, walking with a swagger. Drinking and cursing. Watching porn. Sir would catch you by surprise and pin you against the wall, getting his pleasure from you. You loved the sudden lack of discipline, the spontaneity, the cockiness.

February your hair was long enough to part and slick. Your wardrobe was entirely replaced with white briefs and singlets, gray and blue dress shirts, smart slacks, knee socks, shined shoes and even a pair of short elasticated wool shorts for home. You tucked in your shirt every day, followed a structured schedule, and learned the basics of piano and French every evening. Sir would spank you for the smallest transgressions. You came to enjoy his discipline, the way your energy was controlled and focused on learning.

March your hair kept growing. You returned to sporty shorts with matching silky shirts. Leg day every day. Running, endurance. Sir had chosen only two outfits for you to wear. It made decisions easy. He chose your food carefully for energy. By the end of all the workouts you’d be ready to head to bed, but you were quizzed on football stats every day from the games you spent hours watching. You lived through your team’s performance, trained hard to emulate your favorite players. Sport, sport, sport. The month passed quickly.

April you didn’t get a haircut, just put a little hair gel in it. Polos and khakis or bright, short shorts. Boat shoes. You started to drink again. Spent lots of time on social media, taking lots of selfies with vapid pearly smiles. A lot of them involved golf, which you were now taking up. Sir got you invited to a party on a yacht. Little discipline again, just spending money, and enjoying the money others spent, and the respect everyone gave you.

May you used a straight iron and bobby pins. Pink crop tops and pink high tops. Became a go-go dancer, shaking your butt every time someone slipped a sweaty dollar bill down the waistband of your glittery hot pants. Pumped your nips every night and morning. Sir worked your hole every morning until you could take a plug, then a thick dildo, then a fist. Sometimes, after your shows, you’d get the chance to fit other guys’ hands up your hole too. It felt good to be desired, great to be a slut, and utterly fabulous to be so flamboyant.

June you got a cut in front and a trim in the back. Button-ups with the snaps, tucked into tight Wranglers and secured with a massive belt buckle. You listened to country music the entire time you were awake. Spent time hunting and fishing, dressed in camo and/or waders. Beaten-up T-shirts and trucker caps half the time. Cowboy hats the other half. It was relaxing getting back into nature, relaxing listening to repetitive songs, relaxing to slip completely into this identity and hear the voices of anxiety silenced. Some time every day, Sir gave you hearty pats on the back, and butt, and you embraced him, totally at ease.

July you awoke in briefs and a singlet again. An extra-large polo shirt, sweater vest, and loose polyester dress pants were stuffed over you, and you were taken to a barbershop and given a tight waxed horseshoe flattop with a white, shiny, wide landing strip. Glasses for good measure too. The only fun you had was DnD, but mostly you were too busy reading academic papers, solving logic puzzles, and arguing with strangers on Quora to spend much time on the DnD sessions. Sir would turn the Internet off at 9 every night, though, and you’d have to wake up early the next day to catch up on your online pursuits. It felt good to know more than anyone else...except Sir, of course.

August you got tired of feeling like other guys were about to bully you and became the bully instead. Buzzed again, gym shorts, tank tops, lifting, protein shakes and meal plans: all the things you’d gotten tired of six months ago, but which seemed so comfortable and natural now. You almost didn’t want to continue the cycle of transformations. Begged Sir, naked and on your knees, your prominent pecs quivering slightly. Sir denied you. You needed still more discipline.

September you were to follow a detailed schedule to the minute. Your buzz was shaved daily on the back and sides, clippered to a 0.5 on top. You were issued one set of clothes for PT, and one set of clothes for day-to-day wear: a polo and cargo pants with stiff black boots that gave you blisters. There was a final set of clothing for dinners and special outings: a dress shirt secured with shirt stays, immaculately creased trousers, mirror-shined black shoes. Punishments were severe and severely boring: standing at attention for hours, endless sets of push-ups, and marches in circles with the sun beating on your shorn head. Despite the unpleasantness, you felt proud to be held to such a strict standard, and to comply with it at least most of the time. Sir would occasionally reward your compliance with a treat like a single ice cream bar or 20 minutes of free time.

October you asked again to become a jock, or a frat boy, again, but Sir, tight-lipped, shook his head. You hadn’t learned your lesson. Stripped of all clothing, you winced as you were shaved head to toe, and a chastity cage was forced on and locked. You were rubbed with lube before being covered in a thick black rubber suit that covered your entire body, zips held closed with a dozen miniature padlocks. You were let out of rubber only for your brief, intense workouts—for public matters, a thinner rubber suit that left your arms and legs exposed was fastened on you, after which you donned a plain black T-shirt, black jeans, black Converses and a black snapback. Half the time, a large plug was shoved up your ass. You didn’t have a strict schedule any more, but the punishments more than made up for it. Perhaps your entire existence was one punishment. You were beaten, forced into painful positions, your balls stretched, made to drink piss and eat from the floor. You slept in a large dog cage. Slowly, you got used to it, hastened by Sir’s hypnosis and brainwashing sessions. You realized how much effort Sir was putting into the training and resolved not to disappoint him again. The border between pain and pleasure disappeared, and you grew content in the moment, constant intense sensations forcing your attention on the present. For Halloween you were paraded out in your full rubber suit, a collar and leash around your neck.

November you knelt, bound, ready for the next layer of intensity, for a fresh round of humiliation and torture. You accepted whatever Sir might inflict upon you. But he untied you, let you out, gently cleaned you in the bathtub, and had you lie on a towel. It was only when you felt a soft, pillowy sensation enveloping your chastity cage that you realized what he’d planned. You had a large wardrobe of brightly colored T-shirts and pants and a full rack of chunky sneakers. There were rules, of course, particularly around bedtime, screen time, and getting your diaper changed, but you were otherwise free to play as you wished. The lack of punishment initially seemed wrong, like cheating, but you settled into your new pampered lifestyle as Sir gently encouraged you and occasionally told you life stories to learn from. By the end of the month, you were making cucumber sandwiches like a pro, wearing a cartoon sandwich T-shirt and overalls.

December Sir trimmed the sides and back of your head, undressed you, unlocked you from chastity, and showed you to yet another set of clothing. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he didn’t tell you what you were supposed to become, just smiled and walked out of the room. No kinky gear or implements anywhere, just a fleshlight in the back of the drawer, behind the boxer shorts and miscellaneous patterned shirts and jeans. Sir just kind of...left you alone, not telling you when to wake up or what any consequences of anything would be. With the horniness from the previous months of chastity and discipline built up, you started to jerk off at least three times a day. Sitting at the dinner table with Sir eating pizza, you asked him what this was all about. It felt so wrong.

“Boy, this month I’m showing you what you haven’t had for several years: a ‘normal’ lifestyle. No control, no schedule, no denial, no punishments, just...freedom. You shouldn’t forget, I can give you any transformation I desire, and this month I want you to be a regular guy. What’s light without shadow, a vessel without the internal emptiness, a crisp autumn day without the muggy summer before it?”

Almost crying at this point, you nodded. You’d taken all this kinky artifice for granted, assumed that last month was Sir’s way of letting you off easy even though you were in diapers. You had gotten so accustomed to Sir’s control that you’d let yourself get tired of living your deepest fantasies as a prep and a jock.

You stood up. “Sir,” you started, about to apologize, about to thank him, about to tell him how much you loved him, but you pushed your face into his and gave him a deep kiss, inserting your tongue, feeling his warm mouth relax in pleasure. You hugged him tight, and he hugged you tighter, and you were together, equals now. Wait, equals? That didn’t feel right.

You pulled his arms behind his back and scowled. “I love you. That’s why I’m going to do to you what you did to me. We’ll start with you as a jock.” Sir’s eyes widened. You kept your face stern, but worried he’d find some way to punish you. Suddenly, Sir sat up and straightened his shoulders. “Sir, yes Sir!” he yelled. And so, another year began, with a Sir and boy playing through various transformations, except the Sir and boy were reversed this time, and a few times, for a month at a stretch, they’d stop and live as equals, just to appreciate what they had. Appreciate each other they most certainly did.

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Nine (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

(read on ao3) (full fic)

Vanessa’s watching her opponent’s arms like a hawk, coiled in front of their face ready to shoot forward at any moment. She’s looking for an opening, a chance where her opponent falters for just a second, where there’s a chance for her to land a clean hit, in and out, ending up with the points that she needs to win.

It’s strategy. It’s a game. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

AN: Thank you guys so much for the love on this fic so far, I really appreciate it! Every single review makes me so happy to know that you guys are reading it and enjoying it and have something to say about it. It’s the best thing to come back to as a writer. After a month, here’s chapter nine! Hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think. Writ as usual is the best beta <3

Silky had asked Vanessa once about what goes through her mind when she’s in a match. What she’s thinking. And truth be told, even when Vanessa’s in it, it’s hard for her to really decipher everything.

When Vanessa’s in a fight, the world seems to slow down around her. She’s aware of every blink of her opponent’s eyes, every bead of sweat that is dripping from their temples to their eyebrows onto their cheeks. Vanessa’s watching her opponent’s arms like a hawk, coiled in front of their face ready to shoot forward at any moment. She’s looking for an opening, a chance where her opponent falters for just a second, where there’s a chance for her to land a clean hit, in and out, ending up with the points that she needs to win.

It’s strategy. It’s a game. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

This first fight feels pretty standard, so far shaping up to be what she’s prepared for. Vanessa’s unravelling the opponent’s tells with each minute that passes, and now, by the third round? She knows that the girl’s first instinct is to feint and jab high before actually going for a lower blow, and that she’s likely to block hits with her right. It’s all too easy for Vanessa, really, to land hit after hit by striking one step ahead while the girl is feinting a high punch, leaving her midsection wide open. Vanessa switches up her stance every time the girl’s shoulders relax for a second, because she can hear Brooke’s voice in her head lecturing her about the importance of being as comfortable attacking with her left side as much as her right and more dominant side.

It’s a puzzle that never fails to make Vanessa’s blood pump faster - her eyes narrow just a little bit more with every combo she can successfully throw at this girl, every hit that she blocks and counters with attacks of her own because she’s able to predict when the girl is going to strike. Each trill of the whistle that signifies the end of a round is a jolt in her ears, barely calming the electric current that buzzes along her limbs, keeping her on her toes even when she’s pulled to the side of the ring by Brooke in between rounds.

“Keep it up for this last round and you’ll be in the clear.” The approving tone in Brooke’s voice makes Vanessa stand up just a little bit taller as she tries to catch her breath, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. “She looks like she’s getting a bit worn out, too. It’ll be easier to land hits the more off kilter she is.”

Brooke tilts her head slightly towards the other side of the ring where Vanessa’s opponent and her coach are huddled, and it’s hard to miss the slight pout and downturned lips on the girl’s face, perfectly complimenting the furrow of her eyebrows. Her shoulders slump almost comically, and the way that she huffs and crosses her arms is reminiscent of the child beauty queens on Toddlers and Tiaras.

“You’ve got this last round,” Brooke reaches out, squeezing Vanessa’s shoulder as she winks when the referee blows his whistle, “so finish this match and let’s get ready for the next one.”

It doesn’t feel like a victory when the round ends and the referee hoists Vanessa’s fist into the air, declaring her win without a single word. The approving nods of the judges around the ring don’t mean much, not yet, not when winning this match is just a stepping stone onto the next one, where she’s going to have to face someone new and start the process of unravelling their tells all over again like she’s just finished doing with her first opponent.

The screen at the far end of the hall tells Vanessa that it’s only ten thirty. The tournament has only just started, and one successful match isn’t something to celebrate just yet, not when she has more to go. Still, it doesn’t stop her from squealing when she sees Monique leaving a fight of her own, the shit eating grin on her face telling Vanessa that she’s just won her first match, too.

“Bad bitches! Two bad bitches. Tell me, how does it feel to kick ass on this fine morning?” Monique spins in place and her excitement is contagious, any tiredness from Vanessa’s first match evaporating on the spot.

“It feels fucking fantastic, is how it feels. We just need Eye of the Tiger playing for the full dramatic effect.” Vanessa snickers.

“That’s old school. Play WAP and then we’ll be talking.” Monet slides up behind them, and Vanessa can’t help but double take at the sweats and sliders she’s in.

Monet catches the look and shrugs. “Bombed my first match. Got my ass whooped. But it’s whatever, I’m just gonna be here in the comfort of my sweats while watching y’all. My day’s gonna be easy.”

Vanessa reaches out to pat her shoulder, but Monet shakes her head. “Honestly? Pressure’s off for me now. I get to watch the rest of y’all stress.”

“Y’know, she’s got a point.” Monique raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa can’t help but let out a snort.

“You’re gonna keep fighting. No giving in because you wanna sit in the stands with Monet in your sweats.”

“You’re no fun.”

Monet pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna grab some food ‘cause I’m ‘bout to pass out. Anyone want anything?”

“I’m coming, my next match isn’t for another hour,” Monique grins, “so plenty of time to digest.”

Vanessa, though, shakes her head, because the thought of food feels almost foreign right now, not when she’s still so worked up and with her next match being so soon. “I’ll hold off. Maybe later.”

She waves her friends off and cranes her neck to look around the hall. Brooke had excused herself to the bathroom at least fifteen minutes ago, and the fact that she’s not back yet makes Vanessa wonder if she’s been held up. Is there really that long of a line for the bathroom at a boxing tournament?

Except there’s no line when Vanessa finds the bathroom, and Brooke’s not inside the enclosed area when Vanessa peeks in, fixing her flyaways in the mirror. When Vanessa pushes the door open though, stepping back out into the hall, she sees why she really didn’t have to go into the bathroom in the first place.

Brooke’s surrounded by what looks like a small army of athletes, tucking their hair behind their ears and batting their eyelashes and Vanessa doesn’t know what’s funnier - the way they’re all clamouring to get a word in or the way Brooke looks like she’s smelled something terrible.

“I can’t believe Brooke Lynn Hytes is here-”

“Are you ever gonna make a comeback?”

“You were like, my favourite boxer when I was a kid-”

The chattering blurs together when Vanessa peeks at Brooke’s expression, the polite smile on her face not quite hiding the way her brows are climbing higher and higher on her forehead. She’s at a bit of a loss of what to do - maybe Brooke doesn’t mind the commotion and doesn’t necessarily want to be rescued, but on the other hand her foot is tapping a beat on the floor that’s getting faster and faster. She’s getting twitchy.

Vanessa’s about to take a hesitant step forward when Brooke turns in her direction, and the relief in her eyes is palpable as they widen upon seeing her.

“What should I do?” Vanessa mouths, trying not to draw the crowd’s attention towards her, as a girl shoves a flyer and sharpie in front of Brooke’s face for her to autograph.

Brooke shrugs, taking a step back when another girl tries to take a selfie with her, blinking at the brightness of the flash. “Improvise!”

Well, there’s no time like the present for Vanessa to foray into an acting career.

“Oof. Ow.” Vanessa cradles her wrist in her other hand, trying her best to convey a wincing expression on her face. She’s about to limp, before realizing she’s pretending that her arm is hurt, not her leg.

There’s a reason Vanessa got the part of a tree branch in her third grade class play. It had required her to do absolutely nothing to sell the part.

Lucky for her, Brooke’s more than willing to step up to bat. “Vanessa! Are you hurt? Shit, excuse me, pardon me, just have to check on my athlete, coming through-”

Brooke pushes her way through the athletes until she reaches her, and Vanessa pretends to wince again for good measure. “Oh no, we better get this checked out before your next match, can’t have it giving out on you, can we?” Brooke spins to face the athletes, an expression of fake sadness on her face that Vanessa has to admit is pretty convincing. “So sorry to leave, it’s been wonderful to meet you all! But the sport always comes first, you know how it is. I’ll see you all around!”

Vanessa grabs onto Brooke with her other hand and practically sprints, ducking past the other coaches and spectators and athletes and pulling Brooke into the first empty hallway that pops up. Brooke nearly skids past her, recovering fast enough to find her footing before leaning against the opposite wall.

“Holy shit.” Vanessa gasps out, her giggles interspersed with the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. “Did you just-”

“Carry that fake injury plot on my back? Yes I did.” Brooke grins as she bends over, her hands resting against her knees as she tries to regulate her own breathing.

Vanessa sticks out her tongue. “Now that’s no way to treat someone saving you from a wild pack of fangirls, is it? Seriously though, I didn’t expect that.”

“Shit, honestly, me neither. It’s not that something like that hasn’t happened before, it’s just…it’s been awhile since it has.” Brooke lets out a breath. “I was used to it back in the day, competing all the time. But it’s been awhile since I’ve been in a place like this, where people actually know who pro boxers are.”

“You telling me you used to be smooth and suave while handling crowds?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow, trying to picture the sight of Brooke however many years ago.

“Don’t act like it’s that hard to believe. I totally was. I just gotta get that mojo back if I’m gonna come to competitions with you and have to say hello to people. Either that, or wear a disguise. Dress incognito.”

Vanessa snickers. “Ah, the life of a niche famous person is so hard. All the adoring fans. How are you ever going to survive it?”

“Shut up.” Brooke shoves Vanessa’s shoulder, but she’s laughing too, shaking her head as she does. “Seriously though, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Princess Diana. Or Taylor Swift. Which paparazzi-favourite celebrity do you prefer?”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “The better question is, let’s see which one of us has her next fight in hmm, let me check my watch, fifteen minutes. Don’t make me make your warm up exercises a bitch.”

“Whatever you say, Lady Gaga. Hey, you could sing her song Paparazzi with all this media attention you’re getting, couldn’t you?” Vanessa flashes Brooke a grin before turning on her heels, practically sprinting back to the competition area before Brooke can retaliate in any way.

If nothing else, at least Vanessa’s keeping her humble. Never too good to have a big head.

The second match of the day is almost easier than the first - the girl falls for her feints almost too easily, giving Vanessa the chance to land clean hit after hit, and she’s barely breaking a sweat when the referee blows the whistle to end the final round. The referee lifts her fist up and maybe it’s the cheering of everyone around the ring watching them, maybe it’s the way he yells out her name as the winner, but Vanessa’s heart is still pumping at the speed of light, the rushing of blood loud in her ears and she feels like a fucking rockstar.

The best part, though? Brooke. At the edge of the ring, she has a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face that Vanessa can feel in her soul. Brooke cheers along with everyone else but there’s something about having her approval that feels different. Right. It’s enough to make every morning practice, every rep and extra minute of sparring worth it, just for the clap on the back that Brooke gives her as she helps her over the ropes of the ring and onto the ground.

“Fucking killed that.” Vanessa doesn’t mean to sound cocky but it’s hard not to when she feels like a million dollars, having obliterated both of the opponents that she’s faced so far.

She’s just left the ring but she wants more, because her muscles feel as if they’re laced with electricity that can keep her going for two, three, four more matches. The sensation is addicting and Vanessa almost feels drunk on it, the desire to win again almost an itch that she can’t scratch.

“Not gonna lie, you really did.” The pride in Brooke’s eyes is hard to miss but there’s a hesitancy too, one that’s hard to miss with the purse of her lips.

So Vanessa shoots her a questioning look. “What? Did I not do as well as I thought?”

“Just…be careful. Don’t get overconfident too early, especially when you have another match still left in the day. Letting your guard down means your next opponent is going to have an easy in.”

Vanessa wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It ain’t over ‘till it’s over. I’m still allowed to be pumped, though.”

“Didn’t say you aren’t,” Brooke tugs on one of Vanessa’s braids lightly, “but remember that you’re not done yet. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience.”

“You’ve let your guard down too early?”

“Every time I thought I had a match in the bag because I did fine on earlier ones, I didn’t. And I always paid for it majorly.” Brooke’s pointed look makes Vanessa want to scowl, because she’s not that cocky. She’ll be ready for the next one.

Just like she’d been for her first two matches of the day.  

Vanessa makes her way towards the plastic chairs that Kameron and a handful of athletes from the gym have taken over, plopping herself down beside Asia with a grin.

“Made it through to the finals in my division.” Vanessa holds up a hand and Asia returns the high five immediately, though she’s biting her lip, her eyes looking a little wild.

“Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow and Asia shushes her almost comically, slinking down in her chair.

“Can you not be so loud?”

“What, bitch?”

Asia pulls her hood up over her head, mumbling something under her breath that Vanessa can’t hear. Vanessa scoots herself closer until her and Asia are close enough to bonk their foreheads together.

“Speak up.”

“KameronandIkissed.”

“What?”

“Shh!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Vanessa mumbles under her breath, trying to resist the urge to rub her temples, “how? When? Where? Did you swap spit out here on the chairs? The fuck?”

“What? No!” Asia whispers, making frantic shushing gestures with her index finger. “She was giving me a pep talk before my second match. In the hallway. Which happened to be empty.”

“And decided it would be best to end with a makeout session?” Vanessa feels like she’s about to explode because holy shit. Asia’s crush on Kameron isn’t exactly a secret and quite frankly, it’s always looked reciprocated.

But a first kiss before a match? Damn.

“It wasn’t a makeout session! Who do you take me for?” Asia sputters but Vanessa raises an eyebrow, and snickers when Asia seems to deflate. “Okay, maybe it was a bit. But I won the match and now it feels like I can’t even look her in the eye because the last thing we did before the match was kiss.”

“So what? Go kiss her again, dumbass. It’s not rocket science.” Vanessa feels like Dr. Phil, with her friends’ love lives. First Monique and Monet not figuring themselves out and now Asia in a tizzy over Kameron.

But Asia’s crossing her arms. “She’s a coach! I can’t just go and kiss a coach.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you technically already kissed a coach.” Vanessa snickers, trying her best to hold back the urge to wiggle her brows.

“Shut up.” Asia grumbles. “I can’t believe I can never talk to her again.”

“Never again-what do you mean, never again?” Vanessa nearly falls off of her chair as she leans forward, poking Asia’s shoulder. “Go talk to her and also make out with her. In fact, Kameron’s looking over right this second.”

The subtle looks that Kameron is throwing in Asia’s direction are hard to miss when Vanessa knows what to watch for, and she just wants to let out a little yell under her breath. Because something’s happening. Vanessa doesn’t know what, exactly, but if anything, she loves watching the show.

“What? She is? Shit, I gotta hide. She won’t see me if I slide off the chair and crouch, will she?” Asia’s beginning to slide to the front of her chair and Vanessa snorts, reaching out a hand to grab the back of her hoodie.

“You’re not exactly invisible, and it’s going to look way more suspicious if you do that.” Vanessa tugs on Asia’s hoodie, revealing her face again. “What’s the harm in talking to her?”

“Because then we have to talk.” Asia groans, dropping her face in her hands.

Vanessa reaches out to pat her shoulder. “I know you’d rather kiss her and all that, but you’ll have to talk eventually, y’know. You’re sitting in shotgun and navigating for the ride home.”

Asia lifts up her face to scowl. “First, I wouldn’t rather kiss her. Okay, maybe I would, but still. Second, I’ll just get Monet or Monique to navigate. I’ll hide in the back or something.”

“No you won’t. You’re going to talk to Kameron on the drive home about the kiss. And then go kiss her again.”

It’s foolproof, really. Straight out of a romantic comedy. Should be easy enough to execute.

“I’m never coming to you for advice again.”

Or not.

“You’ll thank me later when the two of you are together.” Vanessa grins, an expression that grows when Asia groans.

Vanessa has to tell Monet and Monique about this, because they’ll have to figure out a way to get Asia into that front seat. If any one of them is going to end up with a boo, it may as well be Asia. Despite her spooked horse tendencies.

Vanessa’s gotta ask Brooke about it. Maybe Kameron’s telling her about it too, from the way the two of them are deep in conversation only a few rows over. Not that Vanessa gets the chance to do so, because when Brooke’s getting up out of her seat and handing her a protein bar, they’re on their way to the last match.

It’s not too worrisome. Vanessa will be fine, just like how she had been for her first two matches. She takes a swig of her Gatorade in their corner of the ring as Brooke wraps up her other hand, feeling the energy growing in her limbs the closer and closer the clock overhead ticks to the start of the match. The crowd is bigger than those from her first two matches, seven to eight rows deep around all sides of the ring and it makes the excitement bubble higher and higher in Vanessa’s stomach. Reaching the finale in her weight class is one thing. But winning this match and thus winning her weight class?

It’ll be even better.

“Feeling alright?” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s other hand once the first one is wrapped, her touch delicate as she covers Vanessa’s knuckles for the third time that day.

Vanessa would be lying if she said that she doesn’t feel her heart beat just a little bit faster every time Brooke does up her wraps for her, but she can’t think about it now. Not during a tournament. Not when the first round of her last match is coming up in a few minutes and she gets to kick ass all over again.

So she shrugs. “Feeling just fine.”

“Good. So stay alert, look for her tells, and take her down using her own game.”

The girl across the ring is intimidating, Vanessa will give her that, with a sleeve of tattoos on one arm extending all the way to her fingers. She doesn’t look too afraid herself, fastening her gloves with her teeth while her coach gives her a pep talk of her own. The girl’s coach towers over her, but then again, it doesn’t mean much when Vanessa isn’t blessed in the height department either.

But Vanessa can beat her. Just like she’s beaten her other two opponents today.

The girl shoots her a grin as the referee beckons the two of them closer, the gold mouth guard she’s flashing almost akin to a grill. Vanessa’s hands are up and protecting her face and abdomen before the whistle blows, because she’s ready, and-

Damn.

The girl is fast, with a jab and a cross and an uppercut as soon as the round starts and Vanessa blocks them just in time, letting out a breath when the girl steps back. But she’s fine, it doesn’t matter if the girl is fast because Vanessa is too, and the combination that she throws at the girl with her hook is enough to land a clean hit against the chest. But then the girl is back and in Vanessa’s space and too close but she’s most definitely in the right spot to crowd her and land a bunch of hits that make Vanessa scowl as she retreats, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The pierce of the whistle is almost welcome, as Vanessa flops onto the stool in her corner of the ring. Brooke’s handing her a water bottle and patting her forehead with a towel and her raised eyebrows make Vanessa shrug.

“So not the best start to a round. I’ll get there.”

“Crowd her space first. She’s trying to catch you off guard, so you need to be in there before she’s ready. You can probably get a few in with jabs and a backhand before she’s realized what’s happening.” Brooke reaches out a hand for the water bottle once Vanessa’s finished, taking a swig herself.

Vanessa rolls out her neck, wiping the sweat off of her forehead with the back of the glove and it’s just as well because the whistle is blowing again, pulling them back for another round.

Except that the girl figures Vanessa out too easily. She’s hitting back in the mere milliseconds that Vanessa’s guards are down, landing hits that will count in her favour and it’s frustrating, being a second behind. The girl takes advantage of every time that Vanessa pauses and takes a second to strategize, breaking through her train of thought every time with a hit that Vanessa should be able to block and counter with a combination of her own. But it’s feeling impossible when Vanessa’s attempted hits turn into fumbles, when all she can do is try to block the girl as best as she can.

“Fuck!” Vanessa’s scowling by the next break, dropping her head between her knees because this is wrong, not how this match should be going.

What the hell is she doing wrong?

“She’s getting in your head. Don’t let her do that.” Brooke’s crouching beside her, a hand on her knee and Vanessa wants to shake it off, because everything feels prickly, the energy previously flowing her limbs now acting like currents that are slowly setting her on fire.

Vanessa sits back up, leaning against the ropes of the ring. “How the fuck not? I can’t focus ‘cause she’s too fast and I’m crashing ‘cause it’s been a long fucking day, and I can’t do this.”

Maybe it’ll be less embarrassing if Vanessa throws in the towel now. She’s clearly in over her head, and it’s too much and maybe if she leaves with her tail in between her legs she can preserve a small shred of dignity without getting her ass whooped even more in the process.

“You’re not giving in that easily, are you?” Brooke’s raising an eyebrow and Vanessa wants to growl. “Thought you had more in you than that.”

“I do, I just…fuck.” She can’t go and give up when Brooke’s looking at her like that. Not that she would, anyway, but for a second, the option is tempting.

Vanessa is just going to crumble into pieces during the course of the match instead.

Brooke turns her chin towards her. “Listen. She’s not invincible. This is just me in the gym, pushing you just a little too hard when you’re tired. Nothing more. That’s all you’re facing right now.”

It’s easy enough for Brooke to say, Vanessa supposes, when the whistle blows again to signal the next round and her opponent is looking as fresh as ever, already bouncing on her feet. Vanessa feels like she’s stuck in molasses, her limbs sluggish as they fight against an invisible force and her brain just a second behind. She’s blindsided by hits that she’d be able to block easily in the gym, counter with a few of her own, but right now?

She’s fighting worse than someone who’s never boxed before.

Everything is too loud, too blinding around her as the third round ends and she slumps on her stool in the corner of the ring, dropping her head into her hands. The lights are too bright and there are too many people watching the match and all Vanessa wants to have is the ability to disappear into her brain and hide away and turn everything around her off.

There’s a hand on Vanessa’s knee, and when she opens her eyes Brooke is looking at her with a sympathetic expression and she hates it. She doesn’t want to have to see it, because it means that Brooke also knows that she’s in deep shit in this round, that there’s no way to come back from it. Instead, both of them get to watch this slow descent towards a loss that almost feels worse than if Vanessa was hit with a knockout. She gets to see the foundations of her boxing skills break down one by one, all because now she’s faced with a little bit of pressure that she can’t face up against.

She knows that Kameron, Asia, Monet, and Monique are in the crowd, along with the rest of the athletes from their gym. There’s other competitors that Vanessa hasn’t met yet, more coaches and spectators here just for the entertainment of it all. There’s even television cameras because the tournament is being broadcast on some offshoot sports channel on cable and god, the fact that people Vanessa doesn’t even know are seeing her in this state?

She hates it.

The referee’s whistle is piercing, cutting through her thoughts and bringing her back to the stool she’s on, the cheering of the crowd, and most importantly, her opponent who’s already bouncing on her feet and ready to go.

She still has one more round to go.

Fucking hell.

Tags: branjie, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, lesbian au, boxer au, holtzmanns, level up