but i am not hipster at all

Writing in a coffee shop. In the study area there’s me, 7 other girls, and 1 dude whose name is probably Chad. Because Chad is the way that he is, he zeroes in on a pretty girl with her laptop out & headphones on and his thought process is like, “She totally wants me to talk at her for 20 minutes." 

So he chats her up, and when he’s about to leave he asks for her number. She politely says no. He’s all, "Then why did you talk to me? What’s your problem?” etc and finally stomps off in a huff like the grown ass man he is. His parting shot: “Well, GOOD LUCK making it as an actor.” (After which I’m assuming he high fived himself and whispered, “Nice one Chad.”) 

After he leaves, there’s like 5 seconds of silence before EVERY SINGLE GIRL in the study area just fucking CRACKS UP. It was the purest moment of human connection I have ever experienced. We are laughing our asses off. We are imitating Chad’s whiny pissbaby voice. I ask the pretty girl if that actually just happened. She says yes it did. I say, bullet fuckin’ DODGED babe. She laughs. I am reborn. We are all reborn. I don’t know what Chad was working on in this coffee shop, but there is a 100% chance it was 1. a screenplay, and 2. a remake of The Great Gatsby, but like it’s for millennials and a milquetoast white guy named Brent has a threesome with 2 beautiful hipster girls who both fall in love with him. It’s titled BOATS AGAINST THE CURRENT and it, like Chad’s love life, will never take off.

Usually I love going through the Eurovision tag after the show ends, but the hate Salvador Sobral gets at the moment is unreal! Just because he said that songs with more meaningful lyrics should get more recognition people say he is an arrogant hipster who is shitting on other people’s music.
Yes, dubsteb vampires and burning pianos are nice, it’s Eurovision after all, we all live for flashy music, but that doesn’t mean that deep and meaningful lyrics aren’t as important to a good song. In 2016 Jamala literally won with a song about war and the deportation of the Crimean Tatars, so you all can get your salty ass elsewhere and leave the rightful winner of this year’s esc alone.

reasons to love day6

jae;

  • A Dork, a lanky palm tree
  • loud at first and then becomes really quiet and listens to/observes other people
  • best facial expressions 
  • is always willing to give up something if he feels like someone else would benefit more from it (eg: when he gave wonpil the last piece during the vlive mukbang
  • wow how did i go this long without mentioning hIS VOicE?!?!?!???? boy knows how to pull off the raspy hipster voice while still clearly expressing emotion
  • when he clears his throat in every single damn radio show cover (+Dance Dance) 
  • casually has all these melodies and beautiful lyrics hidden somewhere in his head 
  • actually a really deep thinker even though on the surface all he does is meme
  • the fact that he already graduated college before he got into the industry so he’s pretty much got himself all figured out 
  • most relatable human (”I am trash but it is worth it” -Jae 2k17)
  • american humour, totally a tumblr dude
  • can someone pls tell him he looks good with or without his glasses he’s so insecure
  • looks like the kind of person that would either be really fun or really boring on road trips

sungjin;

  • Meme Father, busan boy
  • looks serious and intimidating until he does literally anything
  • that look he gets where he’s initially ticked off and then realizes that he should probably just let it go
  • THE RASPY THING HE DOES WITH HIS VOICE 
  • i think i’ve only ever heard him go out of tune once, like ever
  • when he uses the shaker in english song covers
  • that time he said “misunderstanding” on asc
  • he’s so willing to make a fool out of himself for others’ enjoyment (eg: basically any time he dances and he knows everyone’s laughing because he’s horrible but he OWNS IT
  • he’s sassy literally 25/7 he’s so sarcastic bih i LOVE it
  • how he clearly understands what people are saying in english but he just laughs silently and doesn’t respond 
  • he learned how to play so many instruments before he settled on guitar and leader 
  • his aCcENt,, 
  • he dresses himself like a casual fratboy or a farmers child there’s no in-between 

brian;

  • The Middle Child 
  • mediates all conversations between all members always
  • can someone call him YoungK at least once pls
  • is he sleeping or is he jumping off the walls rn who knows could be either one
  • so spontaneous and goes with the flow and super chill
  • relatable university student (”are you ready for your exam?” “no i’m going to study the night before”)
  • when he says CAAAAnada and Toroooonnuh (as a canadian I certify that’s how we say it)
  • he just really loves terry 
  • a lyrical genius,, man in a movie got me shook fam
  • somehow finds time to write and compose almost all day6 songs while still balancing school life and personal life
  • that time wooyoung exposed him by telling the story of how drunk Brian wouldn’t stop saying fuck into the phone
  • how quickly he mastered english even though he only lived in canada for a few years (I know people who’ve been here for 10+ years and they still can’t pronounce the “th” sound it’s difficult ok)
  • how flawlessly he transitions between falsetto and his normal singing voice and then it goes really low and then oh that’s a truMPet
  • does anyone even know what his real hair colour is anymore

wonpil;

  • Personification of Sunshine 
  • his go-to facial expression is to smile as wide as he can
  • the way his whole face and body language changes when he smiles
  • his voice is so unique but he’s got a great range and it’s really strong
  • he tries so hard when speaking in english
  • embraces the fact that he gets weird sometimes and runs with it (”hyung are you a bear”)
  • has written some of the most beautiful lyrics in their songs 
  • winking machine
  • “this dance move is really hard guys seriously try it” 
  • that sound he makes when he’s really confused like EH?? and he just stumbles over his words until it fades into quiet and then he goes AAAH AH AH AH OK 
  • fashion icon 
  • he’s just here to have a good time fam 
  • aegyo king except he spends like a full minute hyping himself up to do it
  • he just really loves dowoon

dowoon;

  • little baby puppy don’t hurt him
  • has so much love for the other members and is so grateful
  • looks like a cinnamon roll but can actually kill you 
  • strong af (eg: that time he killed a mosquito and ended up punching a hole in the freaking wall) 
  • sososososososososoo shy and his ears get red but he embraces it and tries to overcome it 
  • when he speaks you’re automatically like ??? did that voice just come out of that smol bean
  • and is actually so sassy and sarcastic??
  • has the best comedic timing 
  • every once in a while he comes out with these sayings that are absolute gems ok;
  • ”dowoon what are your dreams” “I’m so rich that I take the taxi everywhere. actually I don’t take the taxi. I walk.
  • “say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” “superaoefjnoawenfiaweocious” (nailed it)
  • “i’m a man in a….” “ moooovieee~” 
  • when he speaks english (”your eyes like… black hole.”)
  • pretty much grounds the whole group 
  • is taking vocal lessons! pls support this shy puppy
Because these are always handy, here are some Hayikuu fic recommendations for amazing one shots

These are just my favourites I thought I should share with the world. 

Pairings: Iwaoi, Bokuaka, Kuroken, Matsuhana, Kyouhaba, Ennotana


IWAOI:

untitled by snoqualmie -  Words: 1,092

Soft and cute Iwaoi.


Dinner and a Movie by rikke -  Words: 11,010

Fake relationship, do I need to say more?


Holding on to You by lahdolphin -  Words: 11,464

Harry Potter au with twists that left me speechless.


Keep reading

I used to fantasize about the existence of a never ending hole
huge
and full of nothing but darkness and wind and freedom
big enough to jump into
and fall forever
fall so long I forget that anything can touch me
so long I forget that anything exists outside of the air licking me
and if I felt lost I fantasized company
someone to do backflips with and laugh
silent cause the air grabbed the sound and held it
if I didn’t I was happy
I was a child and this was all I dreamt about
endless wind and air and dark and abandon
I am no longer a child
I wish that freefalls would consume my dreams
just one more week
— 

A.O.A.M. - Freefall

(hi guys im back hope ya didn’t forget about me) 

w4w guide to talking to girls at parties

wow. it sure seems like there are a lot of parties out there. a lot of girls also. “i am weak and unsure of what to do with this information or my life,” i’m sure you’re finding yourself mustering feebly. do not worry! it means you should be meeting girls at parties and that i am here to teach you how to do so!

parties

people throw parties for many reasons, such as turning 1, turning 2, etc. there are also parties thrown for other more important reasons, like hedonism or the devil. unless it’s the type of party that you don’t think a girl who likes girls will be at, then it’s a safe bet that there will be at least a few. if it’s not that type of party then just stay home, re-read Nevada, order some za, and commune with the ancient ones that periodically burst through the astral wound in your bathroom. assuming you do go out, however, you have to be ready for everything a party throws at you.

getting ready

always, always, always wear your second favorite outfit. your first favorite is a) trying too hard and b) best saved for a first date. so you need to be showing off, but just not too much. anyway, this is a party you’re going to go to, so try and have fun! wear easy, semi-comfortable clothing. if you plan on altering your consciousness this is very important. you don’t want to be wearing heels that you stumble on or a ceremonial headdress that curses everyone. consider avoiding make up that actively mutates the wearer into something foul (but rad as hell). also avoid any mobile devices that might dilate the time stream, as you don’t want people accidentally showing up to work two years late the next morning. just focus on looking good, looking confident, and looking gay. the idea is that this will keep boys away while drawing in girls. this idea does not work.

dealing with boys at parties

yikes. these suck! often these are strangers and many of them will try to touch you without consent. outside of wearing a plate mail or carving protective sigils into your yielding human(?) flesh, what is there to be done about these? well, if ignoring them doesn’t work, just remember your ABC’s: Always Be Condescending. does he try to talk about the music? you’re above it. literally planes of existence above it. yes, you’ve heard of that band, you’ve also heard of a thousand bands beyond his pathetic range of hearing. does he invite you to dance? turn him to stone. does he try to give you a drink? dump it on the floor and consume the red solo cup. you’re above them, you’re above all of this. what you’re not above is seeking advice about talking to girls at parties from an alleged witch on the internet. 

the talking to girls part

what do you talk to girls about? well, that’s easy! if you’re a girl you can talk to another girl about anything! long bathroom lines, filing income, the unhealing cut on your neck that seems to keep producing more and more spiders. anything! girls, it turns out, love talking to girls. why? because they’re not boys. but how do you know if she’s one of those kind of girls? no, not a werewolf (see: how to talk to wolfgirls and their kin), a gay. this is literally impossible to tell. is she in flannel? then she could be a hipster or a lumberjane. pierced septum? maybe she’s just into jewelry. a howliing cavity in her a chest that beckons you inward? again, maybe she’s just into jewelry. what were often, in the past, common signs girls gave to each other to telegraph gayness are now often just hip shit that all girls do because, let’s face it, gay girls are fashionable as fuck. anyway, assuming you are talking to a girl, assuming you are getting a little bit of a vibe from her, just shoot her the old “I AM GAYBONES FOR YOU AND WOULD THROW MYSELF INTO A VOLCANO IF IT MEANT YOU WOULD KISS MY NECK IN THE BEYOND” look that we all know how to do. if that doesn’t seal the deal just try gently touching her anywhere from the shoulder to the fingertips and telling her she’s cute while smiling. works on me every time.

hope this helped! don’t drink and drive! use erowid if you’re iffy about the weird pills you’ve been given and the necronomicon if the dead start eating guests! bless!

🎶🎶When You Collect Records🎶🎶
  • Hipster: *moves dusty old boxes out of the way* Whoa, an old record player. It looks like it's in working order too! *runs outside*
  • Hipster: Yo, dad!
  • Dad: What?
  • Hipster: We're getting rid of all of poppop's stuff, right?
  • Dad: There's something you want, isn't there?
  • Hipster: There's this old stereo record player in the attic.
  • Dad: What do you need a record player for?
  • Hipster: My record collection.
  • Dad: I didn't even know they still made those things. Can't you just listen to music on your phone?
  • Hipster: Dad, there's a big difference between listening to music digitally and on record.
  • Dad: Fine, I don't wanna get into it with you right now. You can take the record player. You just have to get someone else to take it to your place for you. My truck's full.
  • Hipster: Thanks dad! *smooches dad on the cheek*
  • *later at hipster's apartment*
  • Friend: So, like Patch Adams ends with Patch Adams half-naked in front of a ton of people. I don't know if it was meant to be funny or like a weird sex thing, but like the movie was just a deeply disturbing character study. I can't stop thinking about it.
  • Hipster: That sounds boring. *unlocks door to apartment* Ta-da! Here it is! My new record player!
  • Friend: New? Looks fucking old to me, dude.
  • Hipster: Well, it is old. That's the appeal. And we're going to listen to the new Sufjan record on it.
  • Friend: Is that actually how you say Sufjan? Apparently, I've been pronouncing it wrong this whole time.
  • Hipster: Well, you won't after this record. There's an entire track where he just says his name for four minutes. It's amazing. *plays records*
  • Record Player: *coughs* Hello. Hello! Where am I? Doctor? Hello! Why is it so dark...............................Can I breathe? I can't breath. Oh god, I'm not breathing! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! I.....................................
  • Hipster: Uh, that's not Sufjan.
  • Friend: It totally isn't. Is it some guest vocalist? I like the new direction he's going in. No instruments or singing, and long stretches of silence. Very experimental.
  • Hipster: *stops record player* I think maybe we should do something else for now.
  • Friend: Fucking lame! I wanted to listen to more Sufjan.
  • *days later at the record store*
  • Hipster: Yo, I think the Sufjan Stevens record I bought from here might be some kind of mispress.
  • Store Clerk: Really? It's a pretty major album. I doubt there'd just be a mispress like that.
  • Hipster: Yeah, but listen to it. It's not Sufjan at all. It's some girl talking.
  • *hipster and clerk listen to a completely normal Sufjan Stevens album together*
  • Store Clerk: What are you talking about? This is definitely Sufjan Stevens.
  • Hipster: Okay, but it wasn't like that when I listened to it at home! I even listened to it with my friend and he heard the same thing!
  • Store Clerk: Maybe there's something wrong with your record player.
  • Hipster: Hmm, maybe there is.
  • *back at the apartment*
  • Hipster: *turns on record player and just listens*
  • Record Player: ...I'm awake again. Why did I black out? Did I even black out? God, I'm not breathing, but it doesn't matter. Why don't I need to breathe? Am I even alive?
  • Hipster: Can you hear me?
  • Record Player: Doctor. Doctor! DOCTOR! Why can't I move? Why can't I feel anything. Keep yourself together. It'll all make sense soon. Calm down. Just breathe deeply. Fuck, I can't breathe! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I CAN'T BREATHE! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE! I'M STUCK! I CAN'T MOVE! PLEASE HELP ME!
  • Hipster: *turns off record player* It's just a recording, I bet. I can't believe I talked to it like an idiot... *nervously turns record player back on*
  • Record Player: I blacked out again. I blacked out. For how long? Is there even time here? Hell. This is hell, right? Did I go to hell.........................................
  • Hipster: *listens to the record player for hours*
  • Record Player: Negative 6893 bottles of wine on the wall! Negative 6893 bottles of wine! Take one down, pass it around, Negative 6894 bottles of wine on the wall... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
  • Hipster: *keeps listening*
  • Record Player: Soul of Christ, make me holy, Body of Christ, be my salvation. God, please forgive me. I'm sorry for all of my sins. Please free me. I'm so sorry. Please. Please. Please.
  • Hipster: *still listening*
  • Record Player: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! SHITTY DOCTOR! FUCK YOU! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! *sobs intensely* FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK EVERYTHING! Please just let me go.
  • Hipster: *nervously walks up to record player and lightly taps on it*
  • Record Player: ...A knock. A KNOCK! PLEASE HELP ME! I'M STUCK! PLEASE! *record player begins shake violently*
  • Hipster: *backs away in fear*
  • Record Player: HELP! HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE, IF SOMEONE'S THERE, HELP ME! HELP ME! I'M STUCK! GET ME OUT OF HERE, PLEASE!
  • Hipster: *unplugs record player*
  • Hipster: *gets hammer from the closet and begins to break apart record player*
  • Record Player: *drips red*
  • Hipster: W-What? *cracks front of record player open*
  • *rotting viscera falls from the record player*
  • Hipster: O-Oh... *stuffs viscera back into the record player and duct tapes over it*
  • Hipster: *turns record player back on*
  • Record Player: ...I can feel. It hurts. Why does it hurt now? Why does it hurt? Why? Why? Why? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? *spurts blood through it speakers and begins to gurgle*
  • Record Player: *hops forward* Please just let me go. Please... please. I'll do anything. I just want to see you again. I'm so sorry. This isn't what I asked for. I'm so sorry. *hops forward again and comes unplugged*
  • Record Player: *tips over, bleeding heavily onto the carpet*
  • Hipster: *silently cleans up the mess*
  • *some time later*
  • Hipster: *calls dad* Hey, dad. Oh, nothing. Uh, I just need to borrow your truck, If not tonight sometime this week. I just need to get rid of something. No, no, that's fine, I can do it myself. Yeah, tomorrow morning is perfect. Thanks Love you too. Bye.
  • *the next afternoon*
  • Dad: So, what did you need to get rid of this morning?
  • Hipster: Nothing important. Just some old junk... Dad, what kind of person was poppop?
  • Dad: Well, he was only the greatest man I've known in my life. Really caring, dedicated to his family. When you were born he loved you so much. He was a bit of a loner, though. It took a lot to get him to open up. Even around me and your grandmother. He was a bit like you. Always a huge music lover.
  • Hipster: I see. Was he ever a doctor?
  • Dad: That's a weird thing to ask. Nope. He hated doctors. Didn't trust modern medicine one bit. It's ironic. His cancer probably wouldn't have gotten to him if he did. But, your poppop was always so stubborn.
  • Hipster: Oh, okay then.
  • *some days later*
  • Friend: New carpet?
  • Hipster: Yup, old one was ugly wasn't it. It was time for a change.
  • Friend: That's what I've been telling you! I'm glad you finally came to your senses. What happened to your record player, though?
  • Hipster: That thing? I threw it away. It was busted.
  • Friend: That sucks. Are you gonna buy a new one?
  • Hipster: No.
  • Friend: But you won't have anything to play your records on.
  • Hipster: Yeah, but I buy records because I want to support the artists. They're not really for listening. Besides, lossless is better. FLAC is the future.

Okay okay. I finished those two hipster punkies fast. Because I thought, the last picture was not the best “ending” for our beloved JM-Month. So take that babes ;)

You know, this month was reeeaalllyy great, but all the time I felt as if something is lacking in my style… I was lightly uncomfortable while drawing all the stuff… And I think I know what the reason was. Maybe. So I will try to go with the “lighter” shading… or so I think. Gna. I am unhappy ;_; buhuuuu. ~

I’m here.
I love you.
I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you.
I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.
—  Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray, Love
Beautiful (Snowbaz AU)

A/N: featuring selectively mute!Simon and soft!Baz

- - Simon - -

I don’t think I’ve ever been in the library before, but I have no idea where Penny is and this is my last reasonable idea (the next one being that she’s gone for a swim in the lake, but seeing as it’s about 10 degrees out, this is my last hope).

I walk in and start to call for her before being angrily shushed by a grouchy looking lady behind the desk. “Oops,” I whisper – well, try to whisper, which Penny says is basically a normal talking voice for anyone else when I’m in ‘loud mode’ as she calls it– “sorry, but have you seen my friend Penny?” The lady just glares at me and puts her finger against her lip, so I shrug and decide to just wander the shelves and try and find her myself. Too loud, I mentally rebuke myself. I’m always either too loud or too quiet. The only time I’m okay is when I’m with Penny. She’s good at letting me know. ‘Too loud, Simon,’ she’ll say, or ‘I can’t hear you, love, a little louder?’ I’m also not as anxious around her, so my tongue doesn’t freeze up and feel like lead, not anymore at least. I don’t choke over my words with her.  I shove my fingers into my jean pockets, desperately trying to regain feeling in them and wander deeper into the library. It smells old, but not bad. Like maybe a bunch of posh ancient  vampires lived here. The shelves tower overhead and I could probably get lost if I’m not careful. I’d need a trail of breadcrumbs or something to ever find my way back to the grouchy lady and the front door, but Penny will help me once I find her.

I keep wandering and weaving, peering around shelves and quietly whisper-screaming Penny’s name. I am hushed countless times by people sprawled on overstuffed chairs with thick books and annoyed frowns. After about thirty minutes I’ve given up; even if Penny is somewhere in this maze I’ll never find her. Plus, all the books are distracting (I’ve never been much of a reader, but the pictures on the covers are fun to look at).

Then another thing – well, person – catches my eye. He could be a posh library vampire if he were paler. He has long, dark hair pulled up in a messy bun like it was done up in a rush. Large hipster glasses are sliding off of his narrow nose- which is currently buried in a book. The shadows from the soft yellow lights in the ceiling fall against his face, accenting his sharp cheekbones and firm jawline. I stare open-mouthed at this boy, blinking a few times to make sure he isn’t just a figment of my imagination.

The boy sighs and shifts and I quickly push myself back behind the shelves, knocking over a couple of books as I move. Shit, shit, shit, he probably heard that. I wait for a little while, listening for movement, but don’t hear anything. Maybe he didn’t hear it. I slowly move forward again, peering around the shelf. He’s still there, still reading. I drink in the sight of this absolutely beautiful boy. He coughs, startling me and I start to move back again- tripping over my shoelaces as I go. I fall to the floor with a loud bang, and land on my back. I turn my head and stare through the books, but the chairs on the other side are empty. The boy is gone. I sigh and turn my head back up to stare at the ceiling. Only-there’s a person in my way. Startling grey eyes meet mine and I swallow back a gulp. Wisps of his hair fall against his cheeks. He’s even more beautiful up close.

“Mind telling me why you were watching me?” His voice is deep, deeper than mine. And smooth. A light lilt following his words. I open my mouth to reply, and then shut it again and close my eyes. My verbal communication skills are shitty at best, and in front of a beautiful boy they’re bound to be horrible. I don’t want to ruin the moment (if this even is a moment).

A light thud to my left causes me to open them again and look over. His nose brushes mine from where he’s lying on the ground next to me and he smirks. “You’re staring again,” he whispers. I feel his breath against my face and smile a bit at him, blushing. He grins back and turns his head towards the ceiling. I stare a while longer before looking up as well. The ceiling is quite beautiful, with arches made of dark wood forming large frames for beautiful murals and paintings. We’re lying under a night sky, painted white stars shining down on us. He tilts his head towards me and points a long elegant finger up. “See those brighter stars? In the top corner?” he whispers, tracing them with his finger in the air. I nod. “That constellation is called Cassiopeia, named after a boastful Ethiopian queen in Greek mythology.”

I slowly turn my head away from the stars on the ceiling and back to him. To his bright eyes and small smile as he passionately explains the stories in the stars. He points out a couple of others before meeting my eyes again and pausing.

“I’m Baz.”

“Simon.” I whisper.

I watch him mouth my name, curving his lips around each letter as if treasuring and memorizing each one. Simon. “Well, Simon.” His voice is breathy and light, “what do you see in the stars?”

I look back up, glancing over at him continuously. He nods encouragingly. Hesitantly opening my mouth I wish to everything that words could tumble out but they catch in my throat. I press my lips together and close my eyes, trying to control my shaking hands. I almost wish that I had continued therapy, that it had worked so I could fucking talk to this beautiful boy. That my continuous panic attacks during behaviour therapy hadn’t finally made me give up. Deciding to instead learn sign language with Penny alongside me for rough situations anxiety-wise, where my words choked me and my mouth betrayed me.

“Hey, hey” he whispers, noticing my obvious distress. He reaches out and grabs my hand. “You’re okay, Simon” oh how he says my name. It rolls off his tongue easy and light. “You’re okay,” he repeats, “Do you wanna know what I see in the stars?” I clench my eyes together and nod trying to focus on my breathing. The last thing I want right now is a panic attack. Why couldn’t I have this? Just this. This beautiful boy with his smile and his whispers about the stars.

“Okay,” he continues and points again with his left hand, his other hand staying over mine. “Well if you connect those stars it looks kind of like a dog. I mean not really, but it’s called the Canis Major. Which basically means big dog. I suppose if you use your imagination you can see it. That’s what I love about constellations. You have to use your imagination, otherwise they’re just weird connect-the-dots that don’t look like anything at all.” He looks back at me and I squeeze his hand and smile at him, blinking slowly, trying to savor this wonderful moment. How did I end up on the floor staring at a painted sky with a beautiful boy who doesn’t care that I could barely get my name out. A beautiful boy who lights up when he’s talking about stars and who doesn’t seem to want to let go of my hand.

“Simon,” His breath caresses my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Would you like to go get coffee with me?”

“Yes,” I whisper back, my voice cracking slightly from unuse.

“Okay,” he says, “but first you have to answer one question.”

I nod eagerly.

He leans in, nose brushing mine. “Why were you watching me?”

I stare at his lips, not ready to look into his sharp grey eyes. “I- “ I pause, lick my lips, raise my eyes to his.

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe out.

He leans in closer, and his lips brush mine as he whispers back.

“You’re pretty cute too.”

anonymous asked:

High school and friends with benefits au with Seven, Yoosung and Saeran (Zen if you don't write for him). Thank you!

A/N: *(the sheer amount of times i’ve had to “americanise” my spelling is unbelievable. I’m still to stubborn to change colour to color tho)

(Also I have a copious amount of aubergines in my inbox now, ya’ll are so nasty)

Seven

  • “You keep on sexting me in binary and now my friends think i’ve joined a shady hacktivists group ”

You were sitting at lunch with Saeyoung he was explaining about how internet cookies are extremely misleading in the title. You were half concentrating on him and half on what your friends Mina and Jisoo were snickering at. You could tell they were talking about the two of you. After another five minutes of their whispers they finally approached the two of you.

“Okay you two we know what’s going on” Mina said as she slammed her hand on the table.

You and Saeyoung looked at each other both thinking the same thing.

  1. Shit they know we’ve been fucking in the supply closet 
  2. How’d they even find out
  3. Which of the three exits can we make our escape

“So is it cool?” Jisoo asked pulling you both out of your thoughts.

You decided to play innocent by asking what the hell she was talking about.

“Oh come on we both know you and Seven are in a super underground hacktivist group” Mina said her elbow propped on the table in an act of secrecy

“Yeah we saw all those messages you sent in that nerd code” Jisoo piped in nodding in approval, “So spill the beans already”

Seven finally decided to speak up from being unusually silent

“Well girls we’d love to tell you but we’d have to kill you” 

Mina and Jisoo gawked in amazement. You sighed as you realised the deep hole you two had dug for yourselves.

Yoosung

  • “I accidentally told my *mom we were dating after she found your bra under my pillow and now you’re invited to my cousin’s wedding”

“I can’t believe your making me do this” You grumbled as you stalked past countless shops searching for a dress for this stupid wedding. 

“I already apologised like fifty times” 

You ignored his comment following him into a dress store. He scanned the racks looking for something that would please me. He picked out five dresses and piled them into my hands before directing me to the dressing room

~~~

“I just don’t understand how this involves me” you sighed stepping out in a light pink dress with some questionable frills.

“Well what would you do if your mother found a random girl’s bra in your room”

“Don’t you have a sister couldn’t you have said it was hers” You whined now in dark red dress that make you look like ornate blood stain.

“First of all my sister is 12 and second of all I hardly think that’s her style anyway”

“What would you know about style Mr. WearsTheSameRattyHoodieEveryday” you scoffed, “plus if you hadn’t stolen my bra in the first place we wouldn’t be in this situation at all”

“Wha..What..I didn’t steal it I merely kept for safekeeping till i could return it to you”

“Sure, Jan” you muttered “Yoosung you are many things but you ain’t slick”

Yoosung pouted now knowing he’d been caught. You took a glance at the dressing room then back at Yoosung

“So wanna have a quickie in there” You said pointing to the dressing room behind you.

“I swear to god you have a shorter attention span than me,” Yoosung scolded “we came to look for a dress remember?”

“Boo, You’re no fun”

Saeran

(headcanon that Saeran has a hella extensive mourning routine and knows all these natural remedies)

  • “Just cause I let you stay the night doesn’t mean you can use all my eyeliner”

“Who could have guessed ‘scary edgelord Saeran’ has a fucking morning routine” you smirked rising from the bed to see Saeran sat at your vanity table

“Fuck you”

“I already did” you retorted shrugging on one of his oversized shirts.

“Why am I even friends with you?”

“Cause I’m the only one that can deal with your hipster emo ass”

“I thought you liked my ass” he quipped setting down a moisturising cream.

“Cute” you replied now eyeing him as he emptied out your makeup bag picking out the eyeliner.

“Just cause I let you stay the night doesn’t mean you can use all my eyeliner”

Saeran ignored your comment and continued applying it with expert precision you were a bit jealous cause it usually took you like three tries to get it right.

“You better not do a better job than me, i can’t have you showing me up at school”

“Where the fuck do you keep your Vitamin E Oil” Saeran asked exasperated

“Do you even hear yourself, and who the fuck has Vitamin E Oil lying around the house” 

“No wonder your skin is so dry you’ve been living like a savage”

“Boi you about to catch these hands if you make anymore comments about the state of my skin”

~Admin Petty

Harry Potter isn’t real? Oh no! Wait, wait, what do you mean by real? Is this video blog real? Am I real if you can see me and hear me, but only through the internet? Are you real if I can read your comment but I don’t know who you are or what your name is or where you’re from or what you look like or how old you are? I know all of those things about Harry Potter. Maybe Harry Potter’s real and you’re not.
—  John Green