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i touched a vase | huang renjun.

pairing: potter!renjun x florist!reader 

synopsis: Your relationship with Renjun was strictly professional, albeit amicable. He would create beautiful ceramic vases that you’d commission for your display, and you supplied him with a collection of seeds he’d use to grow his own personal garden in his balcony. Renjun always felt like you two were walking around a glass vase that would break with a single wrong step, but sometimes he feels like he needs to make that first step into finally knocking it over. 

genre: romance, some levels of angst, magical realism, soulmates

wc: 7.4k

cw: slight mentions of familial death

a/n: idk man in japan vocaloid’s sort of having a revival and i’ve realized how creative a lot of these songs are. so i have to give a shoutout to balloon/suda keina for creating “i touched a vase.” he makes beautiful music. also “flos”. the first thing i described when i listened to both songs was “oh man it’s such a renjun song” so this fic was born. 

The place that Renjun feels at ease the most is his studio. The low hums of the pottery wheels reverberated across the vast emptiness of his four white walls as he continued to shape his recent work. A string of sighs escaped his lips as he continued to dirty his fingernails with the smooth batter of clay. He’s shaped a myriad of ceramics, but his fingers can never be satisfied. Did he put too much clay? Was it not enough? Is the shape suitable for the design he thought of painting?

He was always a perfectionist—even more so after meeting you.

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Share. Please. In honor or this nameless hero whom because of this letter he or she sent me, could save a life tonight. 

again, my box is always open.

bodyguards and boyfriends [l.jn]

summary : sometimes the only way you can really get some alone time with your boyfriend is by making his job hard. 

pairing : jeno x female!reader (only because I mention that reader is wearing a dress. No pronouns used tho so if u aren’t a girl and don’t mind wearing dresses then u can read it as a self insert)

genre : bodyguard AU, fluff w/ a tiny bit of angst at the beginning of you squint hard enough

warnings : mentions of blood, swear words 

word count : ~ 1.11 k

request : jeno + bodyguard AU + “don’t be stubborn” + “tell me if it hurts, okay?”

author’s note : as always, thanks to jo (@dearyongs) for editing. dedicated to the anon that requested this lol. this doesn’t seem like fluff at the beginning but the end is so hopefully that’s okay!! i was feeling sad when i wrote this lol. also this is female reader because i wasn’t thinking when i wrote about the dress lol so hopefully that’s okay too! i mean i don’t use pronouns so it can be gender neutral if you want it to be. pls enjoy! ❤️

     "You’re bleeding.“ 

     "No shit." 

     Jeno glares down at you. The hard look on his face would have scared you if you didn’t already know that Jeno was just a samoyed in the body of a muscular and mean looking young adult. 

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you don’t understand,, im OBSESSED ... ive replayed this part an unhealthy amount of times 😔

yangyang // resonance mv behind the scenes

johnny // work it behind the scenes

hi friend i'm not sure if you still take fluff requests but i really adore your writing so i thought i'd jump in on the opportunity,,,n e wayz can i please get some besties to lovers (since its the superior genre) with maybe some cliche sharing of hoodies with yangyang ?? thank you😔💗

short and sweet for you anon!

yangyang x reader

It’s not breaking and entering, you reason, if Yangyang willingly gave you the passcode to his apartment.

It’s 3pm and you know he has a macroeconomics lecture that he’s supposed to be in right now and you just saw his housemate Dejun in Starbucks, so the apartment should be empty. You tap in the six-digit entry code and, with a soft chime, the lock whirrs and clicks open. You push the door open to the darkened, quiet apartment, kicking off your shoes and shutting the door behind you.

Almost immediately, you make a beeline to Yangyang’s room. Well, to his closet, in particular. The thing about Liu Yangyang is that he has more clothes than anybody else you know, and you’ve been slowly depleting his hoodie collection over the past 2 months and he (seemingly) hasn’t noticed yet. You’ve even gone as far as wearing his own hoodie in front of him and he didn’t say anything.

Which one this week?

The hangers rattle as you rifle through the densely packed row of hoodies hanging in the back, inspecting each one until your hand falls on the softest thing you’ve ever touched. If fabric could be made of clouds, that’s what this hoodie would be made out of.

Immediately, you pull it off the hanger and extract it, marveling at how silky smooth, yet pillowy the material is. You lift it to your cheek. It feels like you’re rubbing your face against a puppy’s ear. The hoodie smells like Yangyang’s fabric softener, a crisp, comforting scent that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Without another moment of hesitation, you pull it on over your head, swimming in the oversized hoodie for a few moments before finding the arm holes and threading your hands through the sleeves. Feeling very satisfied with this week’s selection, you wander out into Yangyang’s room and plop yourself backwards onto his bed (or at least, the mass of giant plushies and pillows that cover his bed during the day).

You’re making yourself comfortable in his bed when you hear a crinkling sound from the pocket of the hoodie. Frowning, you stick your hand in, grasping at fabric for a few moments before your fingers close on a crumpled sticky note. You pull it out and lean back against Yangyang’s pillow to unfold the paper and read the message written inside.

Dear <Y/N> ❤️

I really like this one, so you can only wear it for a week before you give it back? (please)

Love, LYY

lalisa manoban; march 27th 1997 main dancer & lead rapper of blackpink

[SOURCE]

Maternity kits, medical threads and scissors, water testing kits, anesthetics, mobile desalination units, etc do you see the pattern? Israel is not only starving the people of Gaza but it also wants to ensure the spread of disease through contaminated water and surgical tools, as well as ensuring injured Palestinians suffer through horrendous pain.

It's beyond sickening.

nct dream; saying i love you

[Mark and Haechan completed with 127]

Renjun: It hits him all at once. A train arriving at a station you long thought was abandoned. A sudden accident on a deserted highway. Renjun was existing happily, quietly, before you came along. Before you brought with you this wave of emotion that threatened to disturb his calm universe. It’s too much, he thinks. It’s too cliche. To be young and in love. He hides it from you–in gentle teasing and subtext. Tucking away his I love you’s in the playful insults he bats towards you with a soft smile. Listen closely and you will hear the words you know are hiding behind the golden browns of his eyes. Lend an ear and you will find the teasing sounds a lot like “I love you” when you’re held tightly in his arms. 

Jeno: He builds a home for you inside of himself. Inside of his heart. And there you reside surrounded by the walls of his love, a blanket of stars overhead twinkling their affections down upon you. “Do you need anything?” He asks, “Do you want anything? Can I help you?” The half-moon crescents of his night brown eyes shine their love and hope upon you in those words. Do you need anything. Do you need anything at all, Jeno will provide. Just say the words. Speak them into his ears, into his soul. He will give you the sun and moon to see you smile. He will pluck the clouds from the sky, pull the stars from the heavens and wrap them up in the warmth of his love for your pleasure. Jeno will do all of this for you, simply because he loves you.

Jaemin: For some love is a gentle whisper on a cool breeze. For others it’s the taste of honey on your lips–sweet and sticky, dripping in the heat of summer. For Jaemin love is a tsunami. He is Poseidon on the seas, riding the torrential waves of the emotions inside of himself. They roil up like a flood in his soul and instead of cowering in fear, he lets it carry him towards you. You are washed in the flood of his love, a sickly sweet shower of affection and words that pour forth from him endlessly. Are you overwhelmed, my love? Does the force of his love and ardour frighten you as the thunder splits the sky? Hold tight to the rigging, the sea will not quell anytime soon. You could withstand the storm–learn to walk with sea legs–or, you could simply slip into the ocean and let him carry you forward on his tide. 

Chenle: Chenle knew it would happen–he knew the feeling was inevitable from the first time your hand grazed against his skin and he felt he could see time eternal in your eyes. He watches you in silence for a moment–soft smile playing over his lips as he contemplates this development. As he readjusts his worldview to take into consideration the weight of his love. And then he allows it. It is a part of him, a part of you, a part of the world you inhabit together and why should he hide it? Why should he not express in words the feeling in his heart. What is so scary about love? Nothing, he thinks, as he speaks those sweet words to you–a smile and a laugh riding the on the waves of his love. 

Jisung: Light on his feet, Jisung dances around the words. An intricately choreographed display of fear and anxiety whirling in your proximity. You watch as he leaps through fences to avoid his feelings, as he bounds across the floor to escape the warm grasp of his love. Yet still it remains, keeping time with him–wrapping its arms around his heart and spinning him ever forwards into the abyss. He worries, oh he worries. What would you say, how do you feel, how would you react? These worries gnaw at him until he makes one mistake–distracted by the proximity of you, by your hand in his. He misses the timing, one fatal misstep, and the whole dance falls apart at his feet. Slip into his arms, join the waltz with him, and watch as the confidence rebuilds and blooms in his soft eyes. He becomes more assured in his steps, and in his love. Wrapping you in it like the soft music you dance to.