lose dress

limerence: clumsy → 1

pairing: zach dempsey / reader

genre: part one in a drabble series called ‘limerence’ about boyfriend!zach 

about: not only did you literally stumble into zach, but into his heart as well. 


Your first day at a brand new school couldn’t be going better. You had single-handedly managed to rip your brand new silk dress, lose your class schedule, and make 0 friends in a span of less than 4 hours. 

“What kind of shit is this?” You thought to yourself as you searched the sea of students in the crowded hall for a friendly face, finding none. You needed to ask someone to show you where the science hall was and help you open your locker, but no one seemed to want to give you the time of day. 

There was a tedious familiarity of standing alone in a crowded space, watching people pass you by and feeling like you were merely an object strategically placed to display teenage normalcy. 

The end of lunch was fast approaching and standing feeling sorry for yourself was getting old. With newfound determination you bobby pinned the strap of your dress back on, put the loose tendrils of your hair behind your ear, and murmured a soft, “you got this, kid,” under your breath. 

You had spotted a girl dressed in a vivid daffodil colored sundress and you made a beeline straight towards her. Consumed by your sudden sense of purpose and thoughts of how she looked like a beacon of light in the cold murky waters that was the student body, you hadn’t noticed a certain tall basketball player was about to cross your path. 

With a small gasp of surprise you butted straight into his side, swaying backwards and tripping over your feet. A small groan of defeat left your lips as a small ache developed on the bridge of your nose. 

“Hey are you okay?” 

His voice was like deep, rich, smooth chocolate and laced with such genuine concern that it almost seemed to quell the dull twinge of pain on your face. Wanting to see if such an alluring voice had an equally alluring face you looked up and damn it did. 

You could feel your eyes involuntarily widening and the once leisure pace of your beating heart turn rapid. You swept over the gorgeous expanse of his face, committing the slope of his nose and the smooth flesh of his pout to memory in case you never had another chance to be at such close proximity to him. 

“Not trying to be rude, but i’m pretty sure we lost this staring contest a long time ago.” His words brought you back to reality and an uncontrollable blush coated your cheeks, you were sure he could feel the burning heat of them. 

“Actually you lost, i’ve been staring for how long?” Is all you could muster, trying to mask your embarrassment with humor. The beautiful stranger let out a small chuckle, a sound so lovely it brought a smile to your face.

“So long I think you broke a record just now,” he responds playing along. “The dudes from guinness world records should be here any minute now.” 

You pretend to look around the halls in search for them. “Good. They’re not here yet, I still have time to prepare my acceptance speech.” You both laugh at your comment and you can’t help the bubbling giddiness you feel from the silly exchange of words with him. “You’re funny, whats your name?” 

“Y/n.”

“Nice. I’m Zach.” You had never thought a name could be this hot until now. Wanting to prolong your time with him, get your stupid locker open, and get to at least one class without being late you asked, “Well Zach, besides helping me break world records would you mind helping me with the glorious task of opening my locker and taking me to the science hall? You will be rewarded generously.” 

His coffee brown eyes look off into the distance, pretending to ponder over your offer. “Lead the way.”

Your lips turn up in a content smile, walking over to your locker with a spring in your step. “My combination is 0-8-24.” 

You watch as his lithe fingers spin over the lock, opening it on the first time with a satisfying click. “There you go.”

You try not to gape at how quickly and simply he opened it, you had stood there before for a good 10 minutes without any luck. “I swear I know how to open lockers, this one just didn’t like me.” 

He smiles amused at how adorably your eyebrows furrowed, expressing your distaste at the rusty blue locker. “Well now that this is opened, whats my reward?”

He takes a flirtatious tone, insinuating that he has a certain something in mind. 

“Well that depends, what do you want?” Your words come out breathy as he steps closer to you. He laughs lightly at the sudden change in your tone, the once ringing voice now soft-spoken. 

“A date,” he responds in an indifferent tone that is more suited to say just buying some stuff or gonna go out for a walk. You raise your eyebrow at his request, faking your cool composure. 

“Take me to the science hall and submit a one page essay about why I should and I might just consider it.” 


hello! this is the first time i’ve ever put one of my works out there and i’d really appreciate any feedback anyone has :-) 

9

Every actor loves playing dress-up, losing yourself in a character, and having fun. Not to get too deep with Deadpool, but he filters all his pain through a prism of comedy and humor. I love that. I relate to that. I’ve done that since I was a little kid. I’m the youngest of four boys in my family so I was never gonna win anything with my fists. I had to win it with my mouth, and I think that’s essentially Deadpool as well. – Ryan Reynolds

9

Mary ± wardrobe appreciation (1x12-1x22) | part 1

when the stars whisper

Originally posted by 1980vibes

Genre: fairy!au, based on @lthyl ‘s request which i delayed for a decade and half :*

Pairings: readerxjimin

Words: 3.5K

Summary:  When did we stop believing in fairy tales? 

PART 1, PART 2


There’s something whimsical about tonight. Maybe its  the way the stars appear brighter than usual, adorning the inky night sky like sprinkles of gold dust.

Underneath the vast expanses of the starlit skies, the city hustles and buzzes with life. Jimin watches closely, the way humans scurry around like ants lost in a maze of concrete jungles and streetlights. From where he sits perched at the very edge of a skyscraper, wind blowing his golden hair, he feels a certain longing bloom, unfurling its hopeful petals inside his chest.

 Hope is a treacherous thing and he’s afraid of the dangerous desires brewing deep within him.

It’s funny, he thinks, how humans waste away their lives longing for fairy tales and a life of wandering amongst the stars, but the stars don’t hold Jimin’s attention tonight. The only thing he painfully longs for in vain, is something further away to him than the stars are to the humans on this particularly starry night.

 *

There seem to exist certain blank spaces in between the events that you cannot recall for the life of you, and as you stare at the blossoms of blue and violet underneath the skin that stretches taut across your wrists, you can only hope that the you from the night before hadn’t really been involved in anything life changingly stupid.

Being the ever studious and ever so meticulous university kid you’ve always been, it’s hard to decipher what exactly had possessed you the evening before an extremely crucial test to give in to the whining persistence of your sometimes annoying best friend.  

“You’ve been glued to your desk for days, Y/N!” You remember her complain to you in her chirpy voice over the phone. “You need, like NEED, to blow off some steam before you self implode…  explode whichever.”

You spring off the bed, warily approaching the full length mirror that stands in the corner- it’s metallic edges, glint silver in the bleak morning light that now filters in past your rather translucent curtains, throwing a weak yet mesmerising spectrum of iridescence on your white walls. Giving into her constant whining had obviously been a bad idea when she had waltzed away from your side quite early into the night never to return again. Dancing had never been your scene so you groan somewhat remembering yourself flopped at the bar closest to the dance floor instead, as you tried to hold a pretty slurred and very much one sided conversation with the poor bar tender about the beauty of trigonometry.

Assessing your haggard reflection, you’re quite surprised that your drunken self from the night before had somehow held enough decencies to have at least changed out of the skin tight dress before losing to the sweet oblivions of sleep. You inspect your skin closely, twirling around in your ivy blue nightie that barely reaches the top of your thighs, and you’re genuinely pleased when you see no other bouquets of shameful violet decorating your skin. But apart from that, you’re a mess really. Your hair’s a hay stack- with your artfully styled curls resembling more of a bird’s nest now, and your eyeliner’s smudged, as if you had been crying your soul out all night. All that remains of your bright lipstick, is the faint residue of dusted rose that sits engrained within the delicate grooves and creases of your lips and you surely look like a character straight out of some low budgeted horror flick.

In that moment, you halt all movement, surprised when in the wake of a very faint memory which is enshrouded in a brilliant brightness and yet too fuzzy and unreal for you to be able to actually focus on. A slight tingle rushes across the plump flesh of your lips and you bring your hands to your mouth, running thin fingers over them, as you feel your heart beat quicken, for well, seemingly no reason.

“Well, well now-” A sickeningly sweet and ridiculously melodic voice, rings out across your room, and you jump, literally jump a mile out of your skin as you whip around.

“How good of a kisser I must be that you’re still feeling the after-shocks of last night, eh?”

Your mouth falls open in silent terror when your wild eyes finally find the boy, the absolute stranger, who lounges lazily on your bed as if he very rightfully belongs there when you definitely remember waking up alone. He stares back at you, a shamelessly wide smile stretching on his pretty lips, and the smile screams trouble and is nowhere close to sincere. You slowly back up against the wall, your trembling knees seeking the support of something stable because they threaten to give in otherwise.

He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair, golden strands threading in between his slender fingers before slipping through like fine silk and despite the bubbling fear, you feel your heart flutter in a manner so strange that it’s novel. It thumps like a bass drum against your ribcage- and you’re almost certain that none of it is just because of the adrenaline that pumps alongside fear in your veins. You only watch mesmerized- so thoroughly smitten by the strangers beauty that you actually find yourself almost forgetting that you’re, infact, supposed to be scared, and, no matter how useless an attempt you should be desperately yelling for help. 

“W-who-wha-you?” You stammer out incoherently and your voice is an unfamiliar squeak. 

However he seems to understand, smirking devilishly in response as he, without a care, without a shame, locks his arms around the back of his neck only to lean back comfortably against the head board of your bed. His eyes never leave yours the entire while and you find yourself, withering away by the minute under his intense stare.

“So you don’t remember me? I’m kind of hurt here.” He sneers, smirk wiping clean off his face as a feigned hurt takes over his perfectly sculpted features.

 "I’ve n-never seen y-“ you are cut short and your claims still hang in the air with an empty hollowness because just then he moves so fast, you’d deem it humanly impossible.

And within a flash he’s standing in front of you, grabbing at your wrists  the moment you throw your hands up in defence. With an iron clad grip he harshly pulls you towards the bed, all along treating your body as if you were no more than a life sized rag doll. You let out a piercing scream that’s cut short when you stumble, helplessly falling flat on top of the mattress. Air whooshes out your lungs in a loud huff and alarms go off in your head as you take in the predatory stance with which the boy then leans down, hovering on top of you- trapping you like a defeated animal within the cages of his strong arms, effortlessly barring all your escape routes from underneath him.

“Humans are awfully forgetful.” He accuses, voice sounding a bit breathless. A thin veil of nonchalant calmness masks a desperation, an urgency much greater than what he shows. You swallow, shrivelling like a dead leaf under his the venomous gaze. You’re scared out of your mind, finally realizing how utterly helpless you really are. Lying underneath an absolute stranger in your own bedroom which had suddenly started to feel so foreign in his unwelcomed presence, you’re too afraid to envision the various blood stained scenarios that threaten to conquer your consciousness.

You whimper softly, a lone tear leaking down your face before you can even realize. Past your blurry vision you try to read the expressionless mask the stranger wears on his beautiful face, but it gives off absolutely nothing. Seeing your pitiful state, something seems to shift in his gleaming eyes, and appearing almost apologetic he straightens up, releasing you from his stronghold with an exasperated sigh. He’s obviously irritated by your inability to recognize him but no matter how hard you try to reach out for the memories that might hold even a fleeting glance of his face, his presence, you come up with absolutely nothing.You wipe your eyes, roughly with the back of your hands and as your gaze shifts up, you very embarrassingly notice, for the very first time the lack of clothing on the boy. He wears a pair of tight black jeans, hugging his thighs just right and ripped artfully at his knees and thighs, but other than that his lean yet muscular torso’s completely bare. It’s strange but you can’t help but notice the way he wears his own skin, with a kind of poise that makes his part-nakedness appear absolutely normal. Infact he even appears regal.

He begins to pace the room lazily, his hands covering his troubled eyes.

When he pauses for a moment his body facing the window and the streaming sunlight at a certain angle, it is as if you’re really looking for the first time and your eyes land on something you absolutely don’t believe seeing. Shaking your head, you blink rapidly- but they refuse go away; they don’t vanish into nothingness like they should, for there was no way on earth that they were real.

But given the angle they are at, growing like giant petals from his shoulder blades are the two thin membranes, fluttering a mile a minute. The boy cocks his head, turning to look at you over his shoulder, as if somehow sensing your bewildered gaze boring into his back. You find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that, indeed there are wings protruding from his back. W.I.N.G.S you spell out in your head for your sanity’s sake. For a moment they still, letting you see the network of veins running all throughout them like threads which glitter like gold everytime they catch the peeking sunlight.

"What are you?” you ask shakily, after maybe minutes or maybe an hour of being rendered speechless.
“A fairy.” He replies, as if he’s only stating the obvious and as if you're nothing more than one those difficult five year olds who only question the most self-explanatory things.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks, the memory seeping in behind your closed eyelids like the same golden glow that that had lit up the darkest of alleyways the night before, as if the sun had descended down to the earth, merely to brighten that narrow strip of the world around the two of you. The memory comes with the soft sensation of his plushy lips, gently moving in sync against yours, the motion being so sweet, so full of emotion that you can physically feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach like a volcano. You can feel his harsh grip on your wrists, an action contrary to the ministrations of his gentle mouth and you can almost hear his ragged breathing, the thumping of your hearts. As the kiss gets fiercer with both passion and raw desperation so does the blinding light, which seems to be emanating from him somehow, grows brighter by the minute.

The memory comes to an abrupt end the same way the glowing boy had vanished from underneath your touch the night before, leaving you-reaching out for thin air, only to find nothing but the cool damp brick walls and the eerie darkness of the night.

“You’re the guy from the club last night!” You exclaim, cringing at how loud you were being.

He clicks his tongue, chuckling slightly as he turns to face you. “More like: You’re that absolutely breath-taking guy I made out with last night.” He corrects slyly, watching you become a hot mess with your blushing cheeks and indignant huffs.

 "Who also happens to be a psychopath, who calls himself a fairy.“ You retort.

But then your face is serious again, your eyes wandering over to find the tips of his wings,  rising from behind either of his shoulders, the very reminders of the queer possibility that the boy who stands in front of you might not even be human. "Fairies don’t exist.” you state bluntly, not wanting to believe any of it in fears of losing your sanity the moment you do.

“Yeah, the same way your brain doesn’t.” He mocks openly, eyes alight even though his face is deadpan.

“That’s it. Leave now or else I’m calling the police. Hell how did you even break into my room?” You threaten, trying to sound as convincing as possible even though you know your phone’s probably still in your bag which is very conveniently nowhere in sight. You’re sure he senses the emptiness of your threat as well for he shrugs as if to say go ahead, challenging you to do something you obviously can’t do. You don’t move an inch not knowing what to do really. Your eyes keep returning to the wings and you ache to touch them speculating whether they’ll vanish like a dream even with the slightest of your touch.

“What’s holding you back babe?” He asks you the obvious, enjoying your discomfort more than he should. “Just a quick reminder though… most normal humans don’t really see me. Also you should stop staring so much. ” He mutters the last bit and shocked you avert your eyes cursing yourself silently for being so stupid.

“Why do I see you then?” You ask wondering if he was only bluffing you just to keep you from calling for help.“That’s my question to you.” He says in response baffling you even further. “Why do you see me Miss Human.”

You don’t know whether you should laugh, at the sheer absurdity of it all. Not only was a psychotic full grown man telling you that fairies exist, but apparently you were a psychopath as well, seemingly gifted with some supernatural vision of sorts. What were you? A ghost whisperer for crying out loud?

“I’m real” he says, as if reading the turmoil that’s churns loudly in your head, his words looking to reassure to you, your sanity in this absolutely mad scenario. You give your head a shake when you find yourself almost believing him. No way any of this was real.

“Why are you here then?” You ask, standing your ground now more than ever. “Shouldn’t you be fluttering around in some magical meadow tucked away in the forests of never land sprinkling gold dust like confetti?”

“Well, yeah I truly should be.” He replies sounding rather honest, and it takes you aback.  “Also the pollution of the city is affecting my health- I don’t get how you humans live in such filth. Also Namjoon must be missing me.” He completes, saying it all more to himself than to you. You do not understand, neither do you wish to. You were an ordinary girl in an extremely ordinary world. You plaster an awfully fake smile onto your face. “You don’t wish to live in this little pigsty like world of ours, right? Then maybe you should just leave.”

 He chuckles and it’s a rather beautifully troublesome sound.

“Not just yet. This world might be a pigsty but I think I just found my favourite little piggy.”

 *

Time waits for no one.

Neither do you, Y/N- who won’t allow a strange nonsensical fantasy to threaten your very sensible reality. Y/N has never been late for a lecture in her entire 20 years of living and today was going to be no exception.

You storm into your bathroom before he can react, his little term of endearment grating on your nerves as if it were steel wool. You make sure to lock the door behind you (not sure if it were enough to keep a creature like him out though) as you turn on the faucet getting ready to shower. All by yourself, you somehow try to restrain the flurry of emotions threatening to claw out of your trembling heart and driving you berserk. You push fear and logic aside, instead contemplating idly as to what might have lead to you getting caught up in such a sheer misfortune spelled out like a curse on you.  Had you woken up on the wrong side of your bed? Or, had the foolish you assassinated the emperor of a holy land in cold blood sometime in your previous life? Either ways fate had finally latched on to your throat, deciding to make you pay in the most insane and mythic of ways; that was for sure.

Somehow pulling together a somewhat decent outfit and pulling your unruly hair back into a pony tail you stumble back out into your room. For a moment you hope to find the place empty, hope that the fairy had finally crawled back into his fairy tale where it rightfully belonged; but to your disappointment, like an embodiment of every single misery of your own, he stands there, arms crossed across his still very naked chest, in the very middle of your room. The memory from last night trickles into your mind and your heart beat grows erratic once again. An irrational part of you aches to be that close to him once again and that irrational you aches to feel him against you in a way where it was hard to tell where he began and you ended. A shameful blush blooms across your cheeks and you can only hope that it slips his attention. How many eons would it take to grow immune to his obvious good looks?

“Definitely not as sexy as last night but I still approve.” He sings and he seems to be scrutinising you the same way you’re doing him. And the sinister smirk on his astoundingly beautiful face makes the last of pink from your face fade. You literally growl at him in irritation, wondering if a human was strong enough to rip a fairy’s annoyingly pretty head off. However, violence wasn’t an option when your race against time had no intention of losing its pace and if you didn’t hurry you’d be late for your test.

“Go back to your mythical land you useless creature. I’ve got reality to attend to.” You sigh dejectedly, not knowing what to do or expect. How long was he planning on lurking around here? And it’s only for a moment but the smugness falters from his face, and you catch a glimpse of regret and something entirely else through the cracks.

You turn around not wanting to see anymore. Grabbing your house keys from the nearly shelf as you head towards the door to your apartment, you half-heartedly hope that a fairy would have better intentions than burglarizing the flat of an already debt ladden university student. “Well then I hope you enjoy your stay here. Just make sure you disappear by the time I get back.” You say without turning back. Your words are met with silence when you had very much been expecting a lame sarcastic retort and you whip around, your eyes searching for the fairy but finding him nowhere. Maybe you had hit a nerve with your sharp words, maybe you had been a bit too harsh. He was gone.

You should be rejoicing, truly rejoicing. Afterall, you had finally woken up from your rather drawn out nightmare, but you fail to understand why instead of relief your heart gives you a painful squeeze, leaving you slightly breathless and uneasy. You think back to the inkling of sorrow you had witnessed on his face a few moments ago and you find yourself curious as to how devastatingly beautiful the curve of his plush lips lifted into a genuine smile would look like. You didn’t even know his name, that is, if he had one.Guess you’d never know now and maybe it shouldn’t bother you this much. He was gone and this was definitely good riddance.

You’re not convinced.

“What’re you spacing out for?” His voice rings out once again but definitely not from where you expect it to come from, but you feel the cool touch of his hand as it wraps around your own and you almost immediately jerk back in absolute shock, either from the sudden charge that cackles like electricity where his skin’s comes into contact with yours or from the fact that he’s standing outside your door instead of inside your room- a door he had definitely never gone through. Of course you think.

“So where are we headed?” He asks, his mask of smugness back on in full throttle and the mischief in his voice as present as ever.

“School.” You mutter brushing past him as you go on ahead before he notices the way a silly grin almost threatens to break through.

“Also… put on a damn shirt you monster.”

3

Before a fight you would generally expect the aggressor to roll up their sleeve, but Mettaton loses his entire dress in the game….the viewers of yesterday’s Undertale gameplay stream wanted a comic of this, so here it is ;0

I recently remade my blog so if you haven’t re-followed me yet, please do so! My old blog had 8.7k followers so I’m hoping to get that back eventually.

[Commission info] [Art usage/repost rules]

Beauty Comes In All Shapes and Sizes | Dan Howell

Hello! This is a short fanfic about Dan Howell based on the request below. I did my best to make this fit your request but as mentioned before I have not struggled with weight myself so I really hope this is okay and what you wanted, please message me privately or not telling me whether I did okay and if not what I could change!! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

“I don’t know Dan…” Y/N mumbled to her boyfriend as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a new dress she bought that had looked a lot better in the store than it did now in the harsh, unflattering lighting of their bedroom. “You don’t like it anymore?” Dan asked, looking up from his laptop. He had stationed himself on the bed, his back against the headboard and his laptop balanced on his legs. “No, I do, just not… on me.” She admitted, followed by a big sigh. This happened to her more often than she cared to admit; something looked so cute on the mannequin in the store or online but whenever she took it home to try it on it just looked weird and obnoxious. “What do you mean not on you? I think it looks fine.” Her boyfriend assured her, closing his laptop and putting it aside to focus on her. “It just makes everything so visible and out-there..” Y/N said as her hands grabbed at her hips and stomach which were extra accentuated by the dress. She mostly wore lose dresses and sweaters to hide her stomach but she’d impulsively bought this piece, which had obviously not been such a good idea. “So? You look beautiful Y/N.” Dan said as he got up from the bed and walked over to his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

Keep reading

I feel like no one ever talks about rural girlhood, certainly not the way they talk about rural boyhood. my childhood was full of distinct imagery, like dirt roads between school bus and house, picking flowering weeds just to twirl them in my fingers, watching my friends kiss boys when they were too young, and struggling to find a place where I could wear dresses without losing the respect of other kids. I remember wandering through trails while it was barely raining and just seeing the hints of other houses, like I was in a maze of liminal space, and any tree I passed under might be the doorway to someplace else. small town boyhood is portrayed as this kind of innocence before masculinity destroys you, but I remember my small town girlhood as privacy, the space to think, a quiet kind of imagination, an almost shared awareness with my friends of a time limit on our emotional freedom, our ability to feel close to each other without self consciousness. I don’t know. I feel like we don’t romanticize the experiences of girls, and we should.