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ain-t-bovvered · 4 years

Text

Bumpy Road to Love 15

EDITED & COLLABORATED with @waywardbaby ( a saint )

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Genre: 40s-50s Au. Singer/ Reader x veteran WWII/ Dean.

Warning: The story keeps going back and forth in the reader’s present and her past, and from joy and carefree to angst and angst and also angst

Disclaimer: the story takes place in the first years of WWII to the years right after, but I love the style and fashion of the 50s so some of the visuals and lifestyle will be not super time accurate, especially during the flashbacks, bear with it.

Catch up here : Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part9 Part10 Part 11 Part12 Part13 Part14

Masterpost

flashbacks are in italics

15.

I open my eyes once again, for the millionth time, because I want to make sure I'm not dreaming. The first light that is so insolently creeping in the room is a sign that the day is about to start. The day that just a few hours ago seemed so far away, is now here. Making its presence known. Alerting me to the ugly truth that I've been trying to ignore.

She’s sleeping, her face and body turned towards me the way I'm turned towards her. I can feel her breath on my face. Her eyelashes are resting against her cheeks which are still flushed. Her lips are half open and deliciously swollen, inhaling and exhaling in a steady rhythm. My eyes follow the curve of her shoulder, travel down the line of her arm and stop at her palm which is resting on my chest. I hate the cotton sheet that's between our bodies and I wanna pull it aside and take her in my arms. I don't want any distance between us. Not when I know that soon, distance is all we're going to have. But at the same time, I don't want to wake her. No sooner than would be absolutely necessary.

So, I lay there perfectly still and look at her. I remember how her body fitted perfectly against mine. I hear my name spilling from her lips. I feel her skin under my fingertips. And the longer I stare at this perfect woman who's sleeping in my bed I can't help but wonder what exactly I have done right in my life to deserve her. She has gone against her mother's order to not be with a slob like me. She has thrown every rule, she grew up with, out the window so she could be here. She has given herself to me in complete trust. She has practically shouted a huge “fuck you” extending her middle finger to the world once again and followed her strong, fearless heart. And what have I offered her in return? The feeling that in a few hours I'm gonna leave her standing at the docks, waving a small hand towards someone who she may very well not see again. How I wish I could hold her in my arms and never let go. Keep her close to my heart so that she knows that it's beating just for her. Kiss her and make her feel how much I love her. My hand reaches out before I get a chance to control myself and brushes a strand of hair away from her forehead. Her eyelids immediately flutter open and for a second I see panic registering in her irises. My palm rests on her cheek and I smile at her. Her eyes clear up at once and she turns her head and kisses my palm. She inhales deeply and a deep sigh leaves her half parted lips.

“Good morning…” She whispers and moves a little closer so now her nose is almost touching mine.

She drapes her arm around my shoulder and I sense her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. I wanna tell her so many things but for the life of me, I can't find any words. I wanna beg her to forgive me for the pain I will cause her soon. I wanna shout at this fucked up world to go screw itself because I have found the love of my life and I can't let her go. Not when I haven't had time with her. When I haven't told her how much she means to me. When I haven't shown her that she's my lifeline, my source of strength, my purpose of living. I can't let her go. And although I know that I have to follow my orders and help people who are thousands of miles away, although I have to be strong and brave and fight in a war that is raging on the other side of the world, all I wanna do is be a coward and stay here. Hide in the locks of her silky hair. Drown in the pool of her eyes. Get lost in the path of her body and let others fight, protect, kill.

But the only thing I can do is stare in silence while I scream in utter desperation inside. I stare deep in her eyes and pray to everything that's holy to find the strength to not break down and cry. She pulls her body even closer to mine and she brushes her soft lips over mine. Her kiss is timid and slow. Careful and sad. She's covering my lips with hers ever so lightly, over and over again. “Hold me close.” She whispers while she's kissing me and my arm moves to her waist while her leg goes over my thigh. Our bodies are molded one against the other and I feel her warmth, smell her scent, taste her. And once again I realize exactly what I'll lose. What I'll leave behind. I have to tell her. Let her know what I feel, what she makes me feel, how scared I am. I have to tell her before it's too late. “Y/N…” I start and I'm pretty sure that I will have to look away as my eyes are fighting back all the unshed tears that have come and gone during the hours we've spent together. Tears that I have skillfully hidden from her but all of a sudden feel like I ton on my soul, weighing me down. But before I get the chance to continue, to make a fool of myself in front of the woman I adore, she places her small finger on my parched lips and whispers: “I know…”

“I know…” She repeats softly and kissing the bridge of my nose, she closes her eyes and whispers, “You have to go, I know.”

I almost let out a bitter laugh. Not quite what I had in mind but she’s right. I do have to go back to base and grab my stuff that I had already packed. Cradling her head between my hands I kiss her, and she sighs. Pushing her back gently is almost painful. I’m up quickly, paying no attention to the pull her body has over mine. I'm up before I fall into her sweet trap again. Hearing her little gasp I turn around only to grin when I see she has covered her eyes with a pillow. I'm sure she's blushing like a tomato under there, I snort and not wanting to stall too much, I locate and grab most of my stuff.

“I’m gonna go and take a quick shower, so you can -” looking around the room I grab her chemise and fold it on the chair near her side “- get partially dressed.”

I wait for her to peak from under her cover and relish in her crimson face as she gets a good look at me.

“Oh my gosh Dean, just get into the bathroom already!”

I laugh as the pillow hits my back.

The door closes behind me and I’m now facing my reflection. The laugh dies on my lips and the mask falls from my face.

My hands grab the sink, knuckles white and I squeeze. I'd rip the thing off the wall, smash it against the mirror that shows no pity to the fool looking into it. But I can't. So, I just stare back, angry.

“Don’t!” I threaten, “Get a grip!” Pushing myself away I get into the shower and under the cold jet like I couldn’t care less. I’m too used to it anyway.

I don’t have a lot of time and I don’t want to waste any of it so the shower is quick and efficient just like they taught me and in less than seven minutes I’m done. Cold and shivering I put on the shorts, starchy pants, the white t-shirt, shirt, socks and shoes in the all too familiar and quick by now way I've been doing it the past few weeks. I quickly dry my hair with a towel, take a quick glance in the mirror to check if I have to shave later and I open the bathroom door. The image in front of me stops me in my tracks and calms my angry and tormented soul.

There she is, barefoot, with only the baby blue, silky chemise on, looking out the window, bathing in the light of dawn, gold and pink colors dancing on her skin, giving her an eerie aura as the rays of the new sun dance in her tousled hair, creating a halo around her.

She’s hugging herself, back straight and posed as usual, like the proper lady she was brought up to be. I can’t see her face, but her hands squeezing her arms betray the way she must be feeling. Silently I walk up to her, embrace her from behind. My arms wrap around her creating a protective blanket, my hands cover hers and her head rests against my chest, fitting perfectly under my chin. That's when I feel her tension melting away. We stay like that, both looking out the window, silent, lost in our thoughts. The sun is rising in the distance, somewhere on our right bathing the world in its light. For the people of the town that is slowly awakening, the light of the new dawn symbolizes a new beginning. What do those fools really know? To me, to her, to us, the only thing it symbolizes is the beginning of the end. With every passing second, we both know that we must let go. I bend my head and kiss the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, lingering there, needing to soak up all her scent and carry it with me to the ugliness and dirt I'm going to be drowning in soon. “I love you,” I whisper against her skin. She raises her right arm and places it behind my head, keeping me close. Turning towards me, she kisses my left cheek and murmurs: “I love you more.” Somewhere in the distance, the tolling of a church bell signals the time and her arm falls limply at her side. She gracefully moves away from me and goes over to the small wooden table that's sitting in the corner of the room. Her small fingers trace the name on my dog tags that were dropped on it last night and letting out a small sigh she picks them up and comes to stand in front of me.

I bend my head down as she slides them around my neck. They clink together as they fall on my chest and they feel so much heavier than they did yesterday. Smiling weakly, she slowly buttons up my shirt and while I tuck it in, she turns to the side picking up the tie she had laid on the bed. Caressing the hard cotton she drapes it around my neck. With quick, skillful hands she ties it and smooths it down my chest.

I put on my garrison and she rises on her toes to adjust it.

“All done.” She says, her small palm resting against my cheek and I close my eyes as the weight of my duty is sinking down heavily to the pit of my stomach.

“I’ll see you at the docks in a couple of hours. Do you know how to get there?”

“I’ll grab a taxi.”

“Like a true city girl.”

“I adapt fast.”

“Yes, you do.”

She takes a step back and I’m cold again. My body, my heart, my soul. They all scream at the emptiness. With heavy steps I grab my jacket and walk to the door, my hand hesitating on the doorknob. I glance back and see her again. The light is coming in the room bright and merciless, illuminating her silhouette, making her look like an angel. My angel. The angel that's gonna guide me back.

“Couple of hours,” I say again.

“I’ll be there.” She promises.

The door closes behind me.

Cold and tired, I climb the last three steps to my apartment, swearing under my breath because I can’t find the damn keys in my purse.

“Ah-ah!” I rejoice when they are finally jingling in my hand but before I try to insert them in the lock, the door suddenly opens.

“Jesus Christ!” I jump back surprised.

“No, just Chuck.”

Pushing past him I shimmy out my humid coat and toss it near the door.

“Did you miss me that much, uh?” I say falling on the couch, toeing off my heels and massaging my calves. No answers. Uh, strange.

“I already ate so do you need me to make you something?” I have no energy to do any cooking but Chuck has had some pretty rough days.

“No…I’m fine.”

“Ok then, I’m just gonna lay here for a bit. Maybe we could have a nightcap later? Put on some records? I don’t know. What are you in the mood for?” I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to rest my head. Chuck’s still oddly silent. No stupid comebacks or jokes. I hear him shuffling around the room. Pacing back and forth. He sits down, clears his throat and then he’s up again, stressing me out.

“What’s up Chuck? Did you piss off the neighbor again?” Still nothing. “I swear if I have to flirt my way out an eviction again…” “Did you -” he starts strained and stops again.

I peak from under my arm. He’s standing a few steps from me, looking down, his arms crossed.

“Did I what?”

And he doesn’t respond.

“Chuck I’m tired. Come on. What happened?”

“Wait here,” he says before walking out of the room.

“You think I’ll get up after a full day on heels? Do you even know me?”

I light a cigarette and let the nicotine burn in my throat before exhaling slowly and watch the smoke swirl lazily over me. My mind keeps going back to the painful plunge it took earlier. There are two possibilities. I’m either extremely lonely or extremely horny. I let out an ugly giggle. I’m definitely both. No escape there. Not that I’d do anything about it, let’s be real. Just the thought of it makes me sick. Maybe I should get a pet or something. I should talk to Chuck about it. Maybe a dog? Nah they are too much of a hassle with our all over the place schedule. A cat? Bad idea. Chuck’s probably allergic. Or not. But he definitely looks like someone allergic to cats. Oh! Maybe a bird? Ah...it’ll probably die from smoke poisoning. What about a -

My train of thought gets interrupted by a rustling of papers.

I turn my head to the side and stare at the pile of letters landing on the coffee table.

Raising an eyebrow I look at Chuck’s face.

“...and?”

He sits on the lounge chair opposite me. Elbows propped on his knees, he stares at me.

“Are these all ?”

“...Yeah. What about them?”

“Y/N…”

“Oh please, don’t make a fuss about them. I know.” I say, suddenly feeling more tired. I close my eyes again.

“Y/N! Are these all the letters?”

“Jesus Chuck!” I blurt out harshly, “Yes, these are all. What the heck?!”

“Did you read them?”

Sighing, I take another puff of smoke, “Of course I did. A long time ago.”

“Are you sure?” He pushes.

“I know them by heart, Chuck.”

“...Alright.” He says softly and I sigh in relief that this matter is finally over. “...but -” I was wrong.

“What?!” I sit up and now I’m getting angry. “Listen, it’s painful. I don’t wanna go through all that again. I know I haven’t told you about my whole life, but I'm sure you have figured it all out by now, ok? Can we drop this, please? I’m tired.” He stares at me with sad eyes. Pity leaking out every pore. I hate it.

“No,” He says, tense. “No, we can’t.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about it. So suit yourself.” I reply, bitterly, as I stand up, planning to go hide in my room.

He follows me, grabbing my wrist.

“Y/N…” He’s angry.

“Chuck, please.” A painful lump blocks my throat and my voice comes out broken.

“Sit down and let me explain.” Dragging me like I weigh nothing, he guides me to the chair. The old leather protests as I fall down on it, defeated.

“...Alright, whatever.”

He takes my cigarette away, putting it out in the half-empty glass on the table, sits on the edge of the table and gently takes my hands in his.

“So, these are the ones you read, right?” He says pointing with his hand at the opened letters scattered on the table.

I nod.

“What about those?”

I follow his gaze to the ones that look unopened. The ones that were tied with old ribbons.

“I don’t really care for my Dad’s business correspondence.”

“So...you didn’t even open them?”

“...No. Why would I? I didn’t even know those were there.”

“I think -” he looks at me strangely, his eyes gleaming, “I think you should.”

I tilt my head in confusion as he grabs the pile and drops it in my lap. I look down at them, and see they have been opened.

Looking at me, awkwardly, he scratches his head. “I took the liberty of opening them. I was curious and you said I could… anyway.”

“It's alright. I gave you permission. But why?”

“Oh Y/N…,” he says in a weak tone. “I think your parents made a big, big mistake.”

“Now you're scaring me Chuck. What do you mean?” He takes a deep breath and from his breast pocket he takes out a crumpled piece of paper. My breath speeds up and my heart clenches. I know what that is. I don’t want it but he pushes it in my hand.

I look down and stare at the chicken scratches.

Dear y/n

My vision swims.

The weather here sucks so bad. You can’t even imagine how friggin’ cold Belgium is. I hope you can read this because my hands are shaking. We are not dressed for winter and since we are close to the enemy line we can’t even hope to get some new supplies. I’m lucky my boots are in one piece.

Last night I was on patrol and everything was frozen. We couldn’t even start a fire to melt the frozen water to drink. I can’t remember the last time I had a hot shower, or simply a shower for that matter. One thing is certain. I’ll never take a bath for granted ever again. I swear even a dive in the murky river would be amazing right now.

Enough whining about the cold. I guess I’m just missing home, and you, and even Sammy. Can you believe it?

I don’t have a lot of time, we are moving soon. I’m scheduled to reach some little town whose name I can’t even pronounce. I forgot. We are close babe, we are so close we can almost taste it.

This nightmare will soon be over and I’ll be home.

See you soon.

Pvt Dean Winchester

90ID, Company B, 359th Infantry Regiment

90th Infantry Division

United States Army

I’m silent as I finish reading. My fingers grip the paper and the lump in my chest prevents me from breathing.

“This -” He starts, “- This is the last letter, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“You’ve never got any others after this?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“...Why do you think?”

“But -”

“Christ, Chuck! Do I have to spell it for you?”

“No, but listen -”

My body jerks into motion because I have never spelled it out loud. The walls close around me and I feel trapped. I just want to escape and drive off a cliff or something. He stops me firmly, pushing me back down.

“Did you write back?”

I avoid his eyes. He grabs my chin and makes me look at him.

“Did you?” He insists without mercy.

“Of course I did!” I scream. “For weeks and weeks! I never got anything back.”

“And his family?” He seems oblivious to my suffering and keeps pushing and asking, tearing me apart.

“ ...Never heard from them either.”

“ But let me understand…” he says confused. “They lived fairly close, right?”

“ Yeah, but I was not there. I had started college, remember? But I had left my new address in the next letters.”

He’s silent and I can see his brain working at full speed.

“I think your parents had something to do with it.”

My mind goes to a full stop. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m almost certain they intercepted the letters.”

“...W - what?”

“I don’t know how or why. Well, I can imagine why but that’s not the point.” He taps the packet of letters on my lap. “They kept these from reaching you and I suspect the ones you sent got lost …”

I stare at him.

“ If… if I’m right about it ...The battle he was getting ready for was a massacre. I heard about it while I was stationed in Holland. It was a disaster. It’s not uncommon for mail to get lost in a war zone and if you didn’t know where else to send telegrams and cards…well, it’s almost impossible they were delivered.” He takes a deep breath. “And if someone got injured, or worse captured, well ...the odds of receiving any mail is close to none...you understand what I’m saying?”

“...No, what...I don’t understand.” I reply and I'm not sure if I really don't understand or if I just don't want to understand.

“Y/N…” He takes my hand and places it on the letters. “This is not your father’s correspondence.”

I stare at his weak, hopeful smile and look down at my hand. I realize it’s trembling uncontrollably as the meaning and heaviness of his words are slowly sinking in.

“It is not…” He repeats, steadily and sure.

I stay motionless, something hot is burning in my spinning head. Something heavy crushes my chest. The pile of letters gets heavier as the seconds pass. Something ugly, something I forget I would ever have again rush through my blood.

Hope.

I don’t register when Chuck stands up. I don’t notice him leaving the room and coming back, putting a glass of water by my side. I don’t feel his hand squeezing my shoulder nor the light kiss he places on my head before leaving the room.

All of a sudden, everything around me gets darker and suffocating while I stare at the pile of hope I cradle in my lap.

I’m confused.

I’m -

I undo the loose knot slowly letting the ribbon fall to the side and grab one of the letters.

It’s dirty.

It’s dirty and short.

Y/N,

I don’t know when or if this will reach you.

We made it, we barely made it.

It was ugly, I’m not going to lie. We lost so many, babe. Our platoon almost got annihilated. The few of us that made it, are scattered. We have to regroup and hopefully, we’ll get some rest. I got hit but it’s nothing serious, don’t worry. Sadly, nothing that will get me a ride back home. Just my luck, am I right?

I’ll try to write to you as soon as I can. Everything is fucked up right now. Comms are not working well.

Pvt Dean Winchester

90ID, Company B, 359th Infantry Regiment

90th Infantry Division

United States Army

-----------------------------------

Dear Y/N,

It’s been a few weeks that I haven’t got any mail from you. Only some delayed ones from Sammy. I guess comms are still banged up. I hope to receive yours later.

We had some time to rest and medics patched us up well enough that we are on route again.

Morale is pretty low right now. We’ve got some new recruits and if you could just see them. They look like scared kids. They can barely stand a 12-hour march and keep their rifles clean. Tran still makes dumb jokes to try to lift the heavy feeling that’s been weighing on us. I mean ...they are stupid and they make me want to punch his stupid face but it helps, somehow.

One of my brothers here got hit on a suicide run. Son of a bitch got his ass saved by sheer, dumb luck. He’s fine but … I’m scared, y/n. I’m so scared and I can’t let that show. Those kids need to be sharp and ready.

I can’t let them down.

I can’t let you and Sam down.

We are moving out again. We are eating ground and I can feel my COs getting anxious to reach our position. The front is again closing in.

Pvt Dean Winchester

90ID, Company B, 359th Infantry Regiment

90th Infantry Division

United States Army

-----------------------------------

Next ones are a bunch of telegrams

Is your address the same. STOP. I got no mail. STOP.

-We moved. STOP. Follow new coordinates. STOP.

-Y/n please. STOP. Are my letters reaching you. STOP.

-I need to know. STOP.

-I can’t reach you. STOP.

-I miss you. STOP.

-----------------------------------

Hey sweetheart,

This, too, will probably get lost somewhere or I don’t know. You’ll probably get it and drop it somewhere, unopened. Don’t even know why I still do it. Writing to you. But I do it every chance I get. In the rain, in the snow and mud. It’s what keeps me grounded, it keeps me here, with my mind. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing it. In a couple of days we are moving near Bastogne, I think. Never been good at Geography. I’m not gonna lie, things don’t look great, and if I’m right, Merry Christmas and happy new year.

I don’t wanna be here. It’s cold and everything is covered in mud. Your nose would scrunch up in disgust, I can almost see it.

Jesus, I miss you on my lips. I miss you under my fingertips. I miss you in my soul.

The thought of you, the thought of coming back to you is what gets me through this madness. Through this hell we all believed was a noble cause. What colossal fools were we? I could go on rambling about this hell we’re all living in. But I won't. I just wish I could have had a minute more with you… at our spot. Under the stars. A minute more to taste your lips. To memorize the way your body molded against mine. The way you fit in my arms.

A minute more in that hotel room. To etch your eyes deeper in my heart. To sense your breath on my face…

But that's all wishful thinking, right now, I just hope you get this.

Pvt Dean Winchester

90ID, Company B, 359th Infantry Regiment

90th Infantry Division

United States Army

---------------------------------------------

More telegrams.

-No news from you. STOP. Where are you. STOP.

-Sam can’t reach you. STOP.

-We are in [redacted]. STOP.

-I love you. STOP.

---------------------------------------------

My hands shake as I open the last one. I look at it and everything is all over the place. Words canceled, some illegible, some are just plain scribbles. They make no sense at all. What happened?

Somewhere there’s a big patch of ink. The words are crooked or misspelled. I try to make sense of them.

Im fucked. My chest hurts so much. It’s hot. Its all hot. They keep waving stuff in my face and taking my tempratur. I can’t even keep the damn thing in my mouth, my chest is killing me. My heart is fucked. Most of the time I cant breath. No snow, I hate, shit I never know I could miss it. But I miss summer.

I dream about it . White fence sunny yard, grass stains on your skirt, kid laugh and youre on the ground with them. You look at me, upside down,flowers tangled in your hair and youre beautiful and- oh god, I want you on my lips and. I here your voice and youre here somewere youre a hudred miles away, youre right next to me sumthime.

fuck I wanna cry because it’s so- you are right there, I reach for you everytime I reach for you but I-

Everything fades,my chest feels like hell-

Samm tell her im sorrry-

I let the last letter fall to my feet.

He’s alive.

The docks are loud and crowded. I push people aside trying to find her in the sea of people hugging, crying, kissing, laughing. Everyone is saying their goodbyes. Some of them will be the last ones and the solemnity of it makes the lump in my throat painful.

“Y/N!” My mouth is dry as I try to call for her, neck straining to see over the sea of heads. In the corner of my eye, I see an arm waving to my right.

I make my way there, rudely. No one cares. We all have more important things to care about right now.

Finally, she emerges from behind a woman hugging her son with the pain only a mother knows.

She crashes into my arms out of breath, looking up at me with shiny eyes and red cheeks. I can tell she’s been running.

I grab her hand and guide her through the mass of people bumping into us left and right and after what seems like a marathon we finally reach the meeting point of my platoon.

We stand side by side as I let my duffle bag slide from my shoulder and drop at our feet.

I feel my head ready to explode, filled with all the things I want to tell her. I feel my heart pounding so hard that it's one step away from imploding. Why is fate so cruel? Why let you meet the person you know you want to spend the rest of your life with and then tear you apart? What deranged higher power finds all this pain and suffering amusing?

I steal a small peak towards her side. I see her chest rising and falling more quickly by the minute. I see her hand balled into a fist. Her nails must be digging into her palm so hard that there's probably going to be blood. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. Tears she's not making an effort to hide from me anymore. I reach out and take her fisted hand in mine. Slowly, I caress each finger until I feel them relax and open up. That's when I lace mine with hers and bring both her hands to my lips.

The moment I touch her skin she turns her head and looks at me. Face flushed, eyes glistening, lips parted in an effort to speak. I nod, letting her know that she doesn't have to. That everything she wants to tell me, I already know. That every feeling traveling through her body is also traveling through mine.

We face each other. Fingers intertwined. Eyes locked. Words unspoken.

The sound of the ship horn mutes us all. I see her jump at the sound. Reluctantly, I release her hand. She buries her small frame in mine and her arms circle my waist keeping me molded against her. I place my hand at the back of her head, making sure she can hear my heart beating and I place a small kiss on the top of her head. She looks up at me and tries to smile. A forced smile that doesn't fool either of us.

“Come on, sweetheart!” I say and I try to pull away from her embrace. The minute her arms fall to her sides I brush some strands of hair from her face and wipe the tears that are still rolling down her cheeks. Her skin is so warm against the palm of my hand. So soft.

She leans in my touch and closes her eyes. Slowly turning her head, she kisses my palm.

Why is it so difficult to tell her I love her? I've told her a thousand times. But I guess if I tell her now, it will probably sound like “goodbye” and not like “I love you”. And I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready to let her go. I'm not ready to lose her.

“I love you”

Her words reach my ears and that's the minute I realize that this is the end. That we have no more time together.

I look at her wrist. My watch is still there. Too big for her. Mercilessly ticking away. Oblivious to our pain. I unclasp it and pull out the small lever that winds it. The ticking stops and the arms come to a halt. And along with the watch, everything else stops. The screaming, the crying, the waves of people walking past us. It's just her and me.

It's so quiet I can hear our hearts beating. I place the stopped watch back on her wrist and do the same with mine. Before she gets the chance to speak I bend down and kiss her. I try to pour all my love into that kiss. I'm trying to make her feel the depth of my emotion. My need for her.

She rises to the tips of her toes and circles her arms around my neck. She returns my kiss as a kind of an unspoken promise. As a pledge.

The booming voice of my CO calls for all of us. It’s the sound of war. It’s the call of our duty.

I don't want to let her go. I don't want to be a damn hero. Now, it's time to say it

“I love you”

“I love you more”

“Promise me that you will keep the hands of time stopped. Promise me that we will restart time when I get back. Promise me you'll wait”.

All the words that I couldn't voice before come blurting out now.

She places her lips on mine again and whispers:

“Promise me you'll come back”.

My hand slips from her as I take a few steps back, our hands still raised.

“I promise”

@dean-winchesters-bacon @wingedcatninja @imma-winchester-addict @maimalfoi @missjenniferb @hannahindie @mariekoukie6661 @wayward-and-worn @thewinchestertales @starfirerules @hunterswearingplaid @sculptorofbeginnings @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @icequeen6666 @brokenhearted-littlegirl @theangelwinchester @missihart23 @weathergirl83 @ravenhg @thisismysecrethappyplace @yllwtaxi @soloarcana @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @sexykitten253 @ackleholicwinchester @snffbeebee @daskleinevolk @energizerbunnay @hobby27 @cloverhighfive @silent-loucidity @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @dammitsammy @mirandaaustin93 @srsllydunnodoncare @flipperjanga11 @sandlee44 @alexisxwinchester @jxnnxbrxwn @deans-baby-momma @pansexualgrapes @busy-bee-angel-misska

#bumpy road to love 15 #bumpy #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #reader insert #dean x reader #reader x dean winchester

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soft-sarcasm · 6 years

Text

50. “I may not need you, but I so desperately want you.”

Pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader.

Request: Anynomous: 50 + soonyoung.

Genre: fluff.

Word count: 1k.

a/n: so I’ve been basically deadly ill since Thursday and it’s been bloody awful because people keep telling me to stop working, so this happened.

request a drabble here.

It seemed that there was almost no pause between each cough, a never-ending cycle of dry heaving that rattled your overworked, battered lungs and left the soft flesh of throat feeling as though it been pinned with a thousand splinters every time you attempted to swallow. You constant retching did little to help the numbing ache in your head that made even shifting your gaze to the side a struggle with itself and it felt with every minute you lay in your bed, you grew closer to death.

You had been sick with some sort of freak flue that had manifested from nowhere for two days now. Your illness had spawned from simply feeling slightly achy and having a fever to suddenly having to stop yourself from downing an entire bottle of cough syrup to dull the pain of your throat and body. It also didn’t help that this was the first time you had allowed yourself any rest, instead favouring to put in the hours needed for your multiple essays then taking the nap your body so desperately needed. But now you had sent off your work to your advisor, apologising for the lack of coherency under the excuse that you were ‘slightly ill’ and were finally ready to give your body the tender care it had been asking for.

Except you were pretty incapable of doing so as of now seeing as your illness seemed to have been holding back to let you finish your work and had now come to full fruition. Instead of just having a sore throat, it felt like needless had taken the place of your oesophagus and swallowing had never been so painful. The mug of ginger tea that you had hoped would remedy the kitchen was abandoned in the kitchen and you had no way of retrieving it as the weight of your body kept you pinned to the bed.

“Why,” You whined during the few instances of relief in between your coughing fit, the word being followed by the near expelling of your lungs.

You were so busy heaving, the sound all but thunderous as it shook the walls of your room, that you barely heard the knock on your door and the subsequent scrap of metal as your spare key was used to open it. You were halfway through arching up at the force of a particularly loud and grating hack when you met the gaze of your boyfriend Soonyoung who stood in the doorway of your bedroom with eyes wide with surprise and concern.

You barely managed to sputter out your words in between wheezes, “What are you doing here?”

The sound of your rasped voice seemed to send Soonyoung into action as he flung himself down onto the ground near your bed, reaching for the hand that wasn’t busy blocking your harsh wheezes, “You didn’t answer my question about going on a date for three hours; I thought I’d come check on you. And thank god I did; you look close to death!”

“That’s because I am,” You moaned, attempting to remove your hand from Soonyoung’s grasp as it had turned sweaty due to your body not being able to decide whether it was hot or cold under your blankets but he refused to allow you to reclaim it. “Give it back.”

“No,” He instantly protested and you could feel the fight slowly draining out of your already weakened form as he ran a thumb over your knuckles and you were further soothed, there was also his naturally radiant presence that was doing a generous amount of work on your mood. “I’m going to take care of you now whether you like it or not. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were sick!”

Another hack rumbled up your throat and you turned your head into your pillow to muffle it when you looked up the concern in Soonyoung’s eyes had somehow increased. “We both had work to do and I’m not an invalid! I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Everyone needs to be taken care of one in a while,” He retorted, tone final and borderline scolding in a way that was rather endearing and you had you near melting. “And I’ve told you that you can still tell me things even if I’m working! Isn’t that one of the fundamentals of a relationship, communication?”

“I thought it was sex; my bad.” You attempted to joke though it was hard to tell if you were being humorous between the sputtering.

Soonyoung’s eyes further narrowed, “Ha. You’re fucking hilarious. But seriously, there is no way I’m leaving you alone until you get better.”

“No,” You whined, pulling your blanket further up to your chin as Soonyoung made a move to stand, “You don’t need me; just leave me here to die, I’ll be fine.”

He softened ever so slightly, crouching down slightly to your coddled form to press a kiss to your balmy temple, “I may not need you, but I so desperately want you.”

“Even like this?” You gestured to your sweat riddled and ill-pale appearance. “That’s a bit kinky Soonyoung.”

“Fuck your insufferable,” He sighed, shaking his head as he straightened back to his feet.

You pouted, “You just said that you desperately want me, now I’m insufferable? You really know how to confuse a girl! What do you want from me?!”

“I want you to let me take care of you without you sending me some sort of snarky remark at every corner, is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” Came your instant answer and then another cough, followed by a groan.

“You know what, maybe I should just leave you here alone to die,” Soonyoung proposed stepping closer to the door.

“Nooo,” You whined out rather pitifully, “Now I want to be taken care of; Soonyoung.”

“Why do I date you again?”

You jutted out your lips and batted your eyelashes, attempting to charm even though you knew you looked closer to a corpse than anything remotely attractive. “Because I’m wonderful, deathly ill and you love me.”

“It’s unfortunate that all of those things are true.”

#seventeen scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi scenarios #seventeen #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #seventeen smut #writing

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coloursflyaway · 7 years

Text

A Pattern Of Errors [1/ 5]

Pairing: Dirk Gently/ Todd Brotzman

Rating: T

Words: 3.273

A bright red cabriolet, the world at his feet and his best friend next to him; it’s all Todd could ask for on a road trip. He gets so much more.

List of chapters

It must be the car, Todd decides. It definitely must be the car that makes his heart skip a beat when he walks out of the door and sees Dirk. A Jaguar cabriolet, sleek and bright red, the kind of car young boys like Todd dream about when not listening in maths classes. How Dirk got it, he has no idea, but his friend – his best friend, Todd thinks – sits in the car like he has owned it for years, waving at Todd with a bright smile on his lips. His hair looks almost red with the early sunlight bouncing off it, his cheeks and lips pink and his eyes blue and sparkling. “Good morning”, the other greets and Todd cannot say a thing for at least four and a half seconds. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, because he has seen Dirk a thousand times before and will see him a million times afterwards, but right now, it’s a little bit like meeting him anew.

“Hey”, he finally replies, even if far too late, waves a little bit, which feels as weird and out of place as it most likely looks. “What are you doing here?” “Picking you up, obviously”, Dirk replies like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like they made plans months ago. “Get in, we have somewhere to be.” “Where?”, Todd asks, and it must be the car distracting him again, the way it gleams, because by now he should know the answer. And it comes, the answer he should know, delivered with a grin that is both mischievous and excited. “Everywhere, Todd.”

The seats are covered in the softest leather Todd has ever felt and although he thinks he should be at least slightly annoyed at the situation, he can’t help but run his hand over the side of his seat again and again. Because it’s Dirk, the roof of the cabriolet is wide open although the wind is cold and harsh against Todd’s skin, making his eyes water, but because it’s Dirk, Todd doesn’t say a thing, maybe because it’d be useless anyway, maybe because the man beside him looks genuinely happy. And really, wouldn’t it be a waste to drive a cabriolet and close the roof anyway?

“Dirk”, Todd all but yells to be heard over the wind, the slight concern definitely audible in his voce anyway. “You are aware that we are leaving Seattle, aren’t you?” “Yes, of course”, Dirk answers, grinning madly, like there is nothing better, nothing more wonderful than leaving this city behind. “Todd, there is a whole world out there, waiting just for us! I know that Seattle is your home, your turf, so to say, but there is so much more to see and experience and possibly, probably be hurt by, or hurt with.” “Hurt by. Or with.” “Well, I am just being realistic, Todd, and after evaluating the past events I have come to the conclusion that not being hurt by anything in whatever is to come is highly unrealistic.” Dirk is thankfully looking at the road and not Todd, even if the grin still hasn’t left his face. Todd wishes that the other’s deductions weren’t quite so on point. And yet, although it was Dirk who was hurt the most of all of them, he doesn’t seem fazed by it, at least not visibly so.

Todd uses a moment of this sunny, if cool morning to wonder if Dirk wakes up from nightmares too sometimes, shaking and sweating and breathing so heavily he feels like he’s about to pass out.

“I am not happy with that train of thought”, Todd informs the other, not because he thinks that Dirk will actually care, but because he wants to be able to think that he did everything he could. “Oh, nor am I!”, Dirk exclaims, swerves right so he won’t completely demolish a teenager on a moped crazy enough not to immediately flee when seeing Dirk behind a steering wheel. “But sometimes – most of the times, actually – the universe doesn’t really care about that much. You should really know that by now.”

And Dirk is right, he should. He does, in fact, and tells Dirk as much, who laughs in a way that most definitely makes him even more of a hazard for anyone around them, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. There’s a moment or two in which Todd is fairly certain they are going to die, but without the fear he is used to feeling at that thought, more like a faint sense of worry. Maybe because the wind whipping into his face, leaving his cheeks burning and distracting him horribly, or maybe it’s because Dirk looks happy, truly happy, from head to toe and the tips of his eyelashes and suddenly, Todd is, too.

They have lunch at some shabby, run-down restaurant at the side of a highway Dirk seemed to pick at random. There are torn vinyl-covered seats and questionable stains on the menu, which is useless anyway, because every single thing Todd tries to order is sold-out; Dirk’s chosen meal – a chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream and the largest slice of apple pie Todd has ever seen – is in stock, of course it is. Todd sighs, looks up at the bored waitress, and orders apple pie as well, but with black coffee to go along with it, which the restaurant at least has to offer. When it comes, the coffee is watery and tastes a bit like it’s been waiting for someone to buy a cup of it for at least twenty-four hours, but Dirk’s milkshake is thick and sweet, makes the other hum happily to himself and smudges a bit of cream across the corner of his mouth. The pie at least is quite nice, sweet and tasting vaguely of cinnamon and warm evenings spent in front of a fireplace.

“So, when are we going to find a case?”, Todd asks around a forkful of pie and watches as Dirk licks cream off his straw just to push it back into his shake a second later. “I don’t know. Are you in a hurry? Because I am not and this is a nice day for not-detecting”, Dirk answers, frowning a little bit at his straw. It’s an unusual thing to say for the other, almost enough to worry Todd. “The case will come to us when it’s meant to, just like it always does.” “…alright, if you say so.” Todd takes another bite of his pie and decides to drop it; if Dirk doesn’t want to talk to it, then he won’t. It makes him realise just how much he doesn’t know about the other, the man he has somehow started to think of as his best friend after all, about Dirk’s past and even the present, really.

“That I absolutely do”, Dirk replies with confidence, more than anyone should possess, let alone someone wearing a brilliantly blue leather jacket and coiffed hair that would make a 50s greaser proud. “I say so. And now enjoy your terrible-tasting, far too bitter, absolutely disgusting disgrace of a drink, Todd.” He sits back and Todd thinks he should feel at least slightly insulted, but decides against it, after all it’s Dirk and Dirk hardly ever means to offend. Instead, he does what he is told, leans back too and takes a sip of his coffee, enjoys that it’s bitter, if vile in any other way. They sit in silence, which is unusual and a little bit wonderful, which isn’t.

“You know, Todd”, Dirk starts when they are somewhere, going somewhere, at some time when the sun is slowly setting. The other’s hands are mercifully still on the steering wheel, where they belong, although Todd has found that Dirk doesn’t always drive like a complete lunatic since they started this weird kind of trip. “There is something which… baffles me, I suppose. About you. Or the world, really, I can’t quite tell one from the other.” “Yeah? What is it?” Todd is shifts until he can look at Dirk more comfortably, leaning back against the window. “You know that the universe leads me where I need to be”, Dirk says, but doesn’t give Todd time to answer. “But in the past, there have been times when I didn’t have any cases for weeks. Months, even. Other times, I rushed from clue to clue and hardly had time to breathe in between. And I – well, I didn’t hate it, I don’t think I hate anything, but I didn’t enjoy it much. At all. It was too much or too little, but there was nothing I could do against it. And yet we solved six cases by now –“ “Four.” “- as I was saying, and haven’t had any for three weeks now, but I feel fine. More than that, even, I feel perfect, and the only difference is you. So, Todd, what is it that you change?”

It’s no question he is prepared to answer, not even one he would ever have expected Dirk to ask, so although the other looks over at him expectedly, he opens his mouth and closes it again twice, swallows, sits up straighter. “I… don’t know?”, he finally offers as a reply, even if a weak one. “Do I do anything?” “Well, obviously”, Dirk tells him like it’s him who’s offended now. “You’re my assistant, Todd. Why would I have ever made you that if you didn’t do anything?” “Dirk…” Todd sighs, and only knows what it is he wants to say when the words tumble from his lips. “I’m not your assistant. I’m your friend.”

The smile on Dirk’s face is bright enough it could power more cities than Edgar Spring’s unlimited energy device.

They stop at a motel long after the sun has set, when Todd’s eyes have long since grown tired and even Dirk’s chatter about some adventure he had long before they met has died down. The other looks sleepy, soft, and Todd catches himself thinking that he could get used to this version of Dirk just like he got used to the bright, enthusiastic one he first met. He’s still not quite sure why he is here, why they are here, but that’s something they can discuss tomorrow, or not at all.

“Oh thank God”, Todd mutters as he finally gets out of the car, stretching and hoping to somehow work the crick out of his neck, get his blood to flow properly again. It’s been too long since they last stopped for gas and a cup of coffee, although the time spent in the car passed far more quickly than he would ever have thought; maybe it’s because it’s been long enough that he has gotten out of Seattle that looking out of the window had felt like discovering the country around him for the very first time, maybe because spending time with Dirk has become something he actively looks forward to instead of just accepts. “Wanna stop for the night?”, he asks the other once he has heard the tell-tale click of the car door opening and closing again. He doesn’t turn to look at Dirk, not yet, because he has done so long enough during those past hours that he is fairly certain he could still count the impossibly light freckles on Dirk’s nose and cheeks if he concentrated and closed his eyes. But the street in front of him, the surprisingly nice looking motel, the night sky from this very perspective, he has never seen any of it before.

“Yes, please”, Dirk answers somewhere behind him, his voice smooth and familiar, although the British lilt that always clings to it makes it stand out wherever he goes. He wonders, for half a moment, if Dirk ever notices it. “Absolutely.” Todd takes another moment to breathe until he finally turns on his heel, expecting to see Dirk walking towards the motel already, but instead finding his best friend looking at him, a gentle, engrossed expression hidden somewhere behind his eyes, in the curve of his lips. Whatever words might have been waiting to be said die right there on the tip of Todd’s tongue, in the middle of a battered motel’s parking lot. He’s not breathless, far from it, maybe it’s the first time he breathes properly in years, and Dirk smiles at him like he knows.

Their room is small, the red wallpaper peeling and revealing the plaster behind it, the lamp flickering dangerously when Dirk turns it on before it decides to continue working, undefinable stains on the pillow cases that Todd decides not to think about for too long. But it’s got two beds crammed into it, and Todd’s heart is still pumping an unfamiliar warmth through his veins, treacherously sweet and subtle. Dirk busies himself with the duffle bag he brought with him while Todd sits down on the bed closer to the door, shucks off his jacket and lets himself fall back onto the mattress. It’s hard and lumpy, but right now, he couldn’t care less.

“You know, Todd”, Dirk says just when his eyelids have started drooping, his body preparing for sleep. “When I came here, to America, I always wanted to do this. A road trip, like in the movies, just take a car and a friend and see the country. It seemed so exotic, all of this, with your missing us, the ridiculous sizes everything comes in, the long, unwinding roads. I couldn’t ever do it, of course, but it was a nice thing to dream about back then.” Todd is vaguely aware that he should most likely sit up and look at Dirk, whose voice sounds softer and more contemplative than it usually does, but he can’t quite bring his body to do so. And it’s only a few moments after Dirk has stopped talking that the second bed creaks under the other man’s weight, and suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. “Why couldn’t you?”, he asks the various cracks in the ceiling and listens to Dirk shift on his bed.

There is no answer for a long time, until Todd is certain that Dirk has fallen asleep already, but then the bed creaks again, and Dirk speaks. He sounds unlike ever before, wistful and quiet and maybe a little bit sad; somehow, his voice suits the night around them. “Because I couldn’t leave. I wasn’t… Dirk back then, and although I wanted to, they wouldn’t have let me go. Or rather, they didn’t. I asked, several times, over several years, but the only thing they allowed was the occasional trip to a city. Once a beach. And then afterwards, well. It wouldn’t have been like in the movies on my own.”

Todd doesn’t have to ask who they are, even if Dirk hardly ever talks about Blackwing, or his time with them, and Todd understands why: sometimes, it’s easier to keep the past locked away and hope it will lose its power over you. And there is nothing Todd can say to help a wound heal that Dirk sustained long before they met, hardly anything to soothe the one he knows Farah and Amanda and he managed to stitch up, however clumsily. “You’ve got me now”, he says anyway, because it’s easier to speak when he’s addressing the ceiling, and because it’s the truth. A few seconds pass, both of them breathing and thinking and listening; when Dirk finally answers, there is a smile audible in his voice. “I know.”

Sunlight trickles through the dirty windows and turns the red wallpaper an even more garish shade, almost stinging in Todd’s eyes when he opens them. It must be morning, and yet he feels disoriented, partly because this is not the flat he has gotten so used to waking up in, partly because it feels like years have passed, since he last slept this soundly. His back still aches when he sits up, bones seemingly having to realign beneath his skin and flesh after spending a night on this mattress. When he looks over, Dirk is still fast asleep, curled up on one side in a way that makes him look smaller, more vulnerable, like it wouldn’t take much to break him into pieces. Todd suspects that might be true.

He allows a few seconds to pass in silence, peace, before he gets up, suppressing the groan that bubbles up in his chest so he won’t wake Dirk up. It’s nothing more than a hunch, but Todd suspects that his best friend might not have gotten much sleep lately either. Since he didn’t have the time to gather literally anything he would actually need on a trip, neither clothes nor toiletries, he pushes a piece of chewing gum into his mouth and hopes that his clothes don’t smell too badly yet as he tiptoes through the room, opens the door and thanks the universe for letting it open almost soundlessly. Maybe he’s not the only one concerned about Dirk Gently after all.

One wrong move and Todd spills coffee all over his hand, curses and promptly stumbles over the threshold. The door opens easily, which is definitely not what he expected, and Todd is met with the sight of Dirk tying a bright red tie around his neck and the collar of his pastel yellow shirt. Anyone else would look ridiculous in it, but Todd knows that the universe will bend over backwards later to make it work on Dirk. It always does. “Oh, good morning, Todd”, the other greets even before he even has turned to look at him, like he knew Todd would come in before Todd knew it himself, then spins around with a bright grin on his face. There is nothing left of the wistfulness he wore the night before, but Todd didn’t expect to find anything of it now, the time isn’t right for it anymore.

“Morning”, he replies, puts down both the cups. “I didn’t think you’d be up already. Brought us coffee – or rather, I brought me coffee, and you what is probably going to be a horrible hot chocolate. I watched them make it and it was… unfortunate.” Dirk looks vaguely interested, but not really put off, tilts his head as his fingers continue pulling the silken tie through the knot he just tied; the smile is still in place. “I am sure it will be fine”, Dirk tells him reassuringly, grabs the cup from the desk Todd placed it on and a sip. It takes a moment for the changes in his face to get noticeable, Dirk’s eyebrows drawing together, his easy, playful happiness vanishing to make way for horrified disgust.

He doesn’t spit it out, but Todd is fairly certain it’s a close thing, judging by the look on Dirk’s face. “What on Earth is this?”, Dirk asks, stares at the cup like it personally offended him. Knowing Dirk, it might have. “They said it was hot chocolate, but well. I am not quite sure what it actually is”, Todd replies, offers an apologetic half-smile. “Wanna get out of here to find somewhere else to eat?” And suddenly Dirk is Dirk again, all smiles and brightness, a ray of sunlight having been given a human body to grace the Earth. “Oh yes. I would like that very, very much.”

They find a diner, of course they do, Dirk has a milkshake and more pie, Todd enough coffee to make his fingertips tingle; the sun is shining and Dirk smiles and Todd doesn’t even think about it before he smiles back.

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #todd brotzman #dghda #brotzly #well fuck me i am on fire tonight

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chumimiiiin · 5 years

Text

Lolita 100 questions tag

1. Screen-name and date of birth, please tell us these~

Chumimiin/Alice, 6/6 2. Height, weight, clothing size, and shoe size? 1,65 m / 54 kg / M / 39 3. Why did you start to dress lolita?

I fell in love with the lolita aesthetic at a really young age, when I discovered Japanese culture and subcultures. For years and years I wished I could be able to wear such gorgeous clothes once I grew up, so many years later my dream came true 4. Which style of lolita do you like? My favourite style is classic, but I love old school as well. Also I have a thing for sweet otome! 5. Express in your own words, the ideal of your above answer.

Various elements and colours that look really good together and a key concept that keeps everything united. 6. Do you have piercings? Where? Both earlobes. 7. Which brands do you like? Innocent World, Emily Temple Cute, Victorian Maiden, Baby the Stars Shine Bright. 8. Which are your favourite clothes (that you have)? Westminster JSK and Crown Jewels JSK by IW, Twinkle Tartan Heart Pocket JSK 9. How many lolita friends do you have? IDK MANY but unfortunately I don’t see them very often.

10. What do you love most about lolita? The huge variety of prints, the love for details and gorgeous materials, the femininity and the creativity you necessarily need to coordinate various items for an outfit.

11. What do you hate about it? Any pet peeves? Not really. I’m just kinda sad this fashion is dying in my country.

12. What lolita magazines do you read? I don’t read any magazine on regular basis, but I own a couple of Kera.

13. Headdresses, bonnets or ribbons/hairbows? Berets and simple bows. 14. Do you wear bloomers? No but I’d love to own a pair of old school ones! 15. Do you tie headdresses at the front or in the back? Always at the front! You must SUFFER lmao 16. Who is your favourite band/type of music? I listen to many different genres, but my favourites atm are folk rock and lo-fi. 17. What is your phone ring tone~? A boring one 18. Do you go to concerts in lolita? Noooo I’m not crazy enough 19. For people who attend concerts: do you headbang there? It depends 20. What colours do you like? Pink, bordeaux, black, gold. 21. What are your hobbies? Drawing, cosplay, workout, taking long walks, watching movies/shows/documentaries. 22. If you have any favourite perfumes, please tell us. La Petite Robe Noire by Guerlain. It’s perfect for lolita fashion. 23. Is there anything you are careful of in lolita? About my dresses and makeup.

24. Do you have any favourite haunts to go to in lolita? Not really, I like to go to different places each time. 25. How many times a week do you dress lolita? I used to dress it really often, now it’s been 4 months since the last time I wore it (too hot here). 26. Please tell us an embarrassing story from when you were a lolita beginner. Since I used to lurk A LOT on the Internet before getting to actually wear lolita, I never had a super embarrassing ita phase, although my first coord wasn’t that good... 27. What is your current hairstyle and colour? Short curly dark brown hair. Not very suited for lolita but whatevs.

28. What is your lolita history?

Discovery : It was 2007, I believe

First real item : 2013. I went to Tokyo and bought some stuff from Bodyline and Closet Child

In between : lurking and lurking and lurking and crying over the beauty I couldn’t have.

29. Do you store your clothes in a special place? In one half of my closet. 30. Did you ever think about quitting lolita? What was the reason? I kinda lost interest in it during this year, but I’m falling again 31. What is your motto? I’m bad with mottos lmao 32. What are your dreams of the future? Being able to find my way and be happy. 33. “This person is so perfect for lolita!” - Do you ever think that about certain celebrities? No. 34. Are there any products/items of which you have with a fond memory? Westminster JSK, it was my dream dress and I was so happy when it came in the mail I was about to cry. 35. What was your first item? I can’t remember, maybe an OP from Bodyline. 36. Do you have a signature pose for photos? No, I keep it simple 37. What is your heart’s bible? [book/magazine/CD/etc…] IDK I can’t choose just one thing. 38. What is the best height (cm) for heels? 6 cm 39. Do you wear tiaras? No, I don’t like them. 40. Do you think you want to try prince style? What kind of prince? Gothic/dark prince? Or “prince on a white horse” style? I’d like to try it! I’d like to go for “gorgeous young prince living in a fairy tale” style. 41. What types of lace do you like? Torchon lace and some laces used by IW. 42. Do you own a doll? Does owning it give you fun, childish feelings? No, but I think they’re beautiful. 43. What is in your lolita bag? Wallet, phone, keys, pochette with emergency makeup (?), earphones, power bank. 44. What is your favourite flower? Hydrangeas. 45. Right now, what is your favourite accessory? An offbrand necklace with pearls and a crown pendant. 46. Please recommend some cosmetics. Revolution palettes, NYX epic ink eyeliner, Urban Decay contour palette 47. With eye-tape your eyes look like a doll’s! What eyelashes will you wear? NYX’s. 48. What is your eye makeup for these eyelashes? I like to change it every time 49. Red Lipstick? Blue? Black? Pink? Pink or soft orange. Or gradient lips with dark red/pink. 50. Which nail polish do you normally choose? Pink, bordeaux or black. 51. Have you ever changed in a train station bathroom? No. 52. What do you think of “twin” and “triplet” lolitas? Super cute! 53. How do you keep in shape for lolita? Recommend something. I keep in shape for my health, not for a fashion...

54. Do you keep calm when you wear lolita alone in public? Not really, but I try to ignore everyone by listening to music and minding my business. 55. How much do you spend per month on clothes/accessories? I don’t spend much money anymore. 56. Was there a time lag between knowing about lolita and dressing in the fashion? Yes, I couldn’t afford it for a long time. 57. What is your most expensive lolita item? Westminster JSK 58. It takes a lot of money to be a lolita. How do you save? I work and resell stuff I don’t need anymore. 59. Just a little secret here… How much have you spent so far on lolita, roughly? I don’t know, some thousands of € 60. Is there a brand shop you want near where you live? IW, Emily Temple Cute, Leur Getter.

61. “Man, what a rip-off!!” Have you ever thought that about a store? Some AP dresses look cheap af in real life... 62. Do you shop online? If so, put the good & bad points here to advise others. Good point: huge variety of stuff. Bad point: shipping is expensive most of the times. 63. Is there a secret person/shop that you have commissioned a dress just for you from? No. 64. “I can never have that/see that happening!! But I will always want it!!” Is there a brand you think this of? Jane Marple and Victorian Maiden stuff, because it’s too expensive. Also, my ultimate dream dress: Lotta JSK in green by IW.

65. What do you do with the clothes you don’t want anymore? I try selling them. 66. What is your most recent purchase? (Even non-lolita.) Queen Mary Fragrance JSK in pink by ETC (my otome dream dress!) 67. Is there an item you love that you can’t buy/seem to find? Lots of Victorian Maiden stuff and veeeery old dresses 68. What do you think of people who only wear lolita to concerts? Do they really exist? 69. What do you think of lolitas without makeup? If they feel comfortable with no makeup, good for them. 70. Another lolita is wearing the same coordinate/clothes as you!! What do you do? ”TWEEEEEEEENSSSSS” 71. What age should you stop wearing lolita? when I get tired of it. I don’t think my anagraphic age would matter. 72. When do you think you should graduate from lolita? And why? See previous answer. 73. “You should stop doing that!!! >_<” What must a lolita not do? Passive-aggressively harassing other lolitas. I mean, what are you, 12? 74. “A lolita should be ‘this’!” What do you think that should be? A person who has fun with this fashion. 75. Besides #73, is there anything you should definitely not do while wearing lolita? Anything socially unacceptable/illegal lmao. 76. What do you think of men in lolita? Same thing of women in lolita. 77. Did you change yourself to be a lolita? I try to act more feminine.

78. What does your family and other people think of you dressing lolita? And do you accept it? My mother loves it, my sister thinks it’s a weird hobby and kind of a waste of money, but she likes it overall. 79. How do you wear lolita in the boiling mid-summer? No. 80. Have you gone to school or work in lolita? Both.

81. How do you dress normally? Very genderless. 82. Do you think twice about buying second-hand clothes? I avoid buying items in very bad conditions. 83. Do you have a boyfriend? (or husband?) Does he understand lolita? No. 84. Please tell us about your ideal man. I don’t have one. 85. What lolita has left a big, shiny impression on you so far? Fanny Rosie

86. Have you made your own clothes? What are they like? No but I want to sew something soon. 87. Have you made your own accessories? What did you make? I made a bow and two straw hats. 88. Think about the best item you have made! What is it? One of the hats. It has white and lilac flowers and a gingham ribbon. 89. Please tell us about the most perfect lolita coordination you wear. I don’t really remember lol 90. Do you admire someone? What are they like? IDK 91. “One day I will go on a date with that person.” What would you like to wear for him? Not lolita.

92. If you want one, what type of store would you open in the future? A multibrand j-fashion store. 93. Something catches your eye. What is this motif? Flowers, keys, crowns, gingham, books. 94. Would you dress your child in lolita? I don’t want children. 95. How much do you spend on one outfit? 200/350 € 96. “This is lolita!!” Please say what you would say this about. Something with good quality lace and bows. 97. “I have always wanted to try that once!” What, in the lolita world, have you wanted to try wearing? Ouji! 98. Look at yourself in lolita. In one word/phrase, how would you express your style/image? Well balanced. 99. What is your lolita ideal? Having a wardrobe I’d be proud of. 100. Thank you for taking this baton!! Tell us what you think! It took me 27 years but it was fun

#lolita question tag #100 lolita questions #lolita questions #lolita fashion

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theconservativebrief · 6 years

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I love celebrities and I love spending my money in inadvisable ways (I’ll never own a house regardless!), but I think the only thing I have actually purchased at the direct suggestion of a famous person is a pair of $80 Adidas Superstar sneakers.

These are the shoes Lorde wore in her “Green Light” music video and the Vevo-sponsored video for the choral arrangement of “Hard Feelings/Loveless,” and on many other occasions, including when she had the flu at the 2017 VMAs and appeared totally unhinged.

Do I regret this? Obviously not. It’s a classic, reliable sneaker, and Lorde is so beautiful and talented. I bought another pair after the first one got ruined by New York City’s hellish streets.

But it did make me wonder about a question many brands would like a clear answer to: Will people buy things just because celebrities tell them to? More importantly, will they do it more than once? Basically: When Lorde puts on a pair of Superstars, she’s not doing it for money. But would it be worth it for Adidas if she did?

Lorde performing at the 2017 VMAs in Adidas Superstars. Kevin Winter/Getty Images

This is trickier to answer than it seems on the surface. The status quo would say “yes”: Rappers are still getting paid to talk about Sprite, and thin people are still getting paid to talk about flat tummy tea. But it’s actually fairly opaque; a quick search turns up dozens and dozens of marketing and advertising executives and strategists asking, “Does influencer marketing actually work?”

We know that Coach has paid Selena Gomez $10 million and seen results as vague as “a significant spike in engagement and followers,” and we also know that brands are increasingly turning away from famous people and toward the far cheaper resource of thousands of normal people to do their outreach for them.

So what does the world of celebrity-influenced spending look like on the micro level? What are normal people — the people I work with, live with, or occasionally tweet at — spending their money on, and who told them to? I need to know! To that end, I asked them all the same question: What’s the silliest thing you’ve ever bought because of a celebrity?

Off the top, what I find interesting is that nearly every person who responded to my request started their admission with, “Not sure if this counts,” as if I were going to reply, “Actually no it doesn’t count; what you did is rational and smart not like all the other idiots I’ve been talking to.”

Sorry, friends! Not the case. If you bought something for no other reason than that a celebrity talked about it or wore or used it or was affiliated with it, it counts.

Here are the most ridiculous celebrity-inspired purchases my friends, colleagues, and Twitter acquaintances have ever made, from $3 bottles of juice to $95 cologne to a five-digit government loan.

Justin Bieber in Germany in 2012, in a sweatshirt. Just Jared

“Doing Real Stuff Sucks” sweatshirt, Justin Bieber

In 2012, while employed at a teen magazine, I bought this sweatshirt because Justin Bieber was photographed wearing it. The typography was good! The message was funny! (In retrospect, though, was it? Chalk it up to post-grad angst.) After some internet research, I figured out it was made by a Polish company, to which I promptly paid 169 Polish zlotys ($50) for a version with white lettering. The fit was weird, but I wore it anyway.

—Julia Rubin, editor at The Goods by Vox

Dior’s Sauvage cologne ad campaign featuring Johnny Depp. Dior

Dior Sauvage cologne, Johnny Depp

Two years ago, I was Christmas shopping for my dad at Macy’s and saw that Johnny Depp, an objectively terrible person, had endorsed a cologne called Dior Sauvage. [Note: This costs $95!] Intrigued by Depp’s rakish pirate looks in the in-store promotional displays, I stopped, spritzed one of those little paper strips, and inhaled. It smelled amazing — rich, spicy, dangerous. Exactly like a dad should smell.

I bought my dad the cologne, which he loved, and a year later, I was in the market for new cologne and bought it for myself. I continue to go on first dates with guys who tell me I smell amazing.

I am filled with shame.

—Casey Newton, Silicon Valley editor at The Verge

8Greens dietary supplement. 8Greens

8Greens dietary supplement, Min Jin Lee

I bought these 8Greens fizzy tablet supplements ($14) because I saw them on the Strategist three times under their “What [X celebrity] can’t live without” column. I love the Strategist, I love being told what to buy, and I will happily click on affiliate links. Anyway, I didn’t really care the first two times I saw these tablets because the recommendations came from Brooke Shields and Molly Sims. Brooke Shields has vouched for some shady products in the past, including those serums that are supposed to grow out your eyelashes but could spell big trouble for your eyes if it gets in there.

But the third time around, it was mentioned by Pachinko writer Min Jin Lee, and I was like, “You know this HBIC doesn’t play around when it comes to sensible goods.” Also, it was included on her list among other boring items like very thick socks and earplugs, so I felt like I could trust her.

I was vulnerable to purchases around this time because I was just on the edge of getting a cold, which is exactly what these tablets are good for. I haven’t taken them yet because I felt better by the time they arrived, but now I feel prepared for when I feel like I’m about to get sick.

—Dami Lee, tech reporter at The Verge

Kylie Cosmetics Lip Kit, Kylie Jenner

I bought a Kylie Lip Kit in college. [Note: This sentence was originally relayed in all caps.]

Candy K. I think it cost $29 plus shipping, which was, like, a full shift of my part-time job. I was enraptured by the idea of a lipstick that lasted all day, and Kylie’s Insta was the first time I had heard of matte liquid lipsticks. This was when they first launched and there were only a few colors, but they always sold out immediately, so I’m pretty sure I logged on during class to buy it [this phrase was also in all caps!] when she announced the next release.

But it turns out that to wear matte lipstick, your lips cannot be even a tiny bit chapped, and it dries them out even if they aren’t. So I hated it and am still confused about how it looks so good in pictures. Then I found out that her formula is basically the same as ColourPop’s and theirs cost, like, $6. But I didn’t even like it enough to buy any of those.

—Katie O’Brien, media publicist

Kim Kardashian West’s latest Kimoji perfumes. Kimoji

Kimoji perfume, Kim Kardashian West

At this point, I own three different Kimoji perfumes — the first one was a gift that I love, because 1) it’s a Kimoji heart and it’s genuinely adorable, and 2) it makes me smell like a cotton candy orgy. But then [Kardashian] stopped selling them and you can’t buy the Hearts series anymore, which made me anxious because I hate change.

When Kim released her next set, I bought the Kimoji Cherry perfume right away. It didn’t smell as good. Then I bought the Kimoji “vibes” perfume. It definitely didn’t smell as good.

Now I have three different Kimoji perfumes that I douse myself in sometimes before bed. They’re $45 each. I like to smell nice when I’m falling asleep, but also I just feel like a dumbass for spending so much money on Kim Kardashian fragrances. Perfumes last a long time. I’m going to smell like Kim well into my 30s.

I never watched Kim’s show but respected her as A Business. With recent Kanye events — since she’s married to him — and her becoming a weird PR mouthpiece for President Trump, I wouldn’t call myself a fan anymore. But she’s one of those people who’s too big to ignore because she has a hand in defining our larger pop culture.

Is she still a smart businesswoman? Absolutely. Am I complicit in a system of hero worship that has both helped fund her empire and given celebrities like her unprecedented political power? I reek of it, literally.

—Megan Farokhmanesh, culture reporter at The Verge

Merch from Kanye West’s 2016 Saint Pablo tour. sohosoles/eBay

Saint Pablo T-shirt, Kanye West

Kanye West made me spend $100 on a long sleeve Saint Pablo tour T-shirt. At least now I have something to wear when I go to a barbecue at my MAGA hat-wearing uncle’s house.

—James Rainis, music publicist

Marilyn Manson’s absinthe brand. Mansinthe

Mansinthe absinthe, Marilyn Manson

My ex and I once split the cost of a bottle of Marilyn Manson’s absinthe. It’s called “Mansinthe,” and it costs $66.66. I don’t like absinthe. I don’t even like Marilyn Manson! Still unsure as to why I did it. I think I’m very suggestible, or something about the idea of owning a whole bottle of absinthe appealed to me. For the record, we did drink all of it, but I still regret it.

It tasted like watery licorice. I felt like an idiot every time we took out the bottle and realized just how much it cost, but the good news was that it wasn’t exactly enjoyable to drink and also didn’t really get you drunk, so no one ever wanted more than one glass of it, and the bottle lasted us for, like, six months. So an okay investment, I guess? This was in college, and I would rank it as probably the second-worst investment I ever made in college, right after buying a pet snake.

—Shay Collins, information specialist at Cornell

Michael Jordan visiting his alma mater in North Carolina. Streeter Lecka/Getty Images

Undergraduate degree at the University of North Carolina, Michael Jordan

I went to the wrong college. [Cost: $55,000 in student loans]

—James Dator, producer at SB Nation

Martinelli’s apple juice, Aziz Ansari

I started drinking Martinelli’s after I saw Aziz Ansari talking about how good it was [on Master of None]. A few months after, I realized, “Huh, this isn’t discernibly tastier than regular apple juice, a beverage I’d never purchase. Over the course of, like, three months [I probably spent] approximately $90. They’re, like, three bucks a pop and I drank it semi-regularly.

I feel a little silly because I could have been drinking cheap-ass Minute Maid apple juice the whole time or, better yet, going with a beverage that isn’t so rich in sugar. But it’s not a steep enough purchase that I’m full-on embarrassed, which isn’t a coincidence. I don’t think I’d buy anything really high-stakes based on celebrity persuasion. [Note: Congratulations!]

—Charles Bramesco, freelance writer

Victoria Beckham at a book signing in 2001. Anthony Harvey/Getty Images

Asymmetrical bob, Victoria Beckham

I spent years and [lots of money] getting and maintaining the Victoria Beckham asymmetrical bob (you know the one) in middle school. For years, I lived in shame for having fallen prey to such an aggressively heinous fad and for having ruined five years’ worth of photos, but now I feel proud to have stanned one of our living icons in her earlier, tackier years. She also has one of the best celebrity memoirs, which I spent money on. Also, earlier this year I considered purchasing a watermelon cake, which she posted on her Instagram for her birthday. VB forever, one of our best celebrities for two decades strong.

—Tamar McCollom, publishing assistant

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Oakley sunglasses, Tom Cruise

I 100 percent asked for Oakley sunglasses for Hanukkah [at age 11] because Tom Cruise wore them in Mission Impossible 2. I think they were, like, $80. They were really expensive for kids’ sunglasses. Then I realized I looked like a dumbass and basically never wore them.

—Seth Rosenthal, writer at SB Nation

I am not trying to embarrass my friends. I only copped to having bought the Lorde sneakers, but quite honestly, there are so many celebrities whose taste and opinions I have cared about deeply for all of my adult life that I can no longer see where I end and they begin. I can tell you some things I almost bought at the urging of famous people, because most of these almost-purchases still live in my Chrome bookmarks, for another day when I’m weaker and needier and have a lot more discretionary income.

—Randy’s Donuts gray hoodie (price unlisted, and you can only order them over the phone?) because Harry Styles was photographed wearing one on July 4, 2016.

—Calvin Klein Eternity perfume ($73) because Jake Gyllenhaal was announced as the face of the campaign in October 2017, and I spent one calendar year of my life writing a weekly newsletter about him at no one’s request and for no money or acclaim.

—Airfare to Atlanta ($500) to visit 2 Chainz’s Haunted Pink Trap House ($65) and buy a souvenir T-shirt on which 2 Chainz is styled as Freddy Krueger ($30), because I love Halloween, I love spectacle, I love Wes Craven, and I love this iconic photo of Lil Wayne having to stand on top of a couch to get up high enough to put 2 Chainz’s tuxedo jacket on him at his wedding. He’s so tall!

—Kim Kardashian’s coffee table book of selfies ($23) because someone on Twitter — who has a lot of followers and a handful of New Yorker bylines — said that if Kim were to photograph herself naked every day until she was 90 years old, it would “actually” be really important performance art.

—A smiley face manicure (approximately $50) from Los Angeles nail artist Britney Tokyo because Playboi Carti has it and it makes him look rich and whimsical.

I don’t need any of these things, but typing them out, I still want them. What I love about Seth’s Mission Impossible story is that it has exactly the same logic as all the other stories, except it took place when he was a child. Buying something because a celebrity says so is childish — a doofy decision-making process based on nothing except whim and delusion of grandeur and failure to have a solid opinion of one’s own. And it’s really fun!

It’s also — as I hope these anecdotes illustrate — very hard to predict, and brands should not try.

Original Source -> Lorde’s Adidas sneakers, Marilyn Manson’s absinthe, and other things celebrities compelled us to buy

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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