#he is pulling the hoop down so he can smooch

[coldshrugs]

training day

[hanalulugguk]

One

Fast Times || Lee Felix

Pairings: Lee Felix x fem oc

genre: fluff, non-idol AU

Warnings: none really, this is just an introductory chapter.

Word count: 5.1 k

(not proof read!)

Note: Hi, i have yet again started a new AU that i’m not entirely sure i’ll finish, but i have more time on my hands so i thought i’d give it a shot.

Enjoy x

The sound of the alarm cutting through her music, alerting her that there are 10 minutes left till class starts. Luna turns off her alarm and gathers her sketch, book and picks up her bag, she stuffs everything in and slips her phone into her pocket. She swipes her finger over her headphones, turning off the noise cancelling mode, paranoid of not hearing her surroundings as she walks through the halls.

As she gets up and dusts her pants off in case any loose grass stuck from the garden, and is on her way to the commonary division of the campus for her core lecture. Being in her second year and still taking core subjects and not just major focused ones irritate her but at least they’re all relatively easy so they’re no bother when it comes to grades.

As she walks through the doors of the building, breezy wind and gentle sun rays no longer on her, she is instantly in a more glum mode. Luna is a nature oriented girl, the lack of sun and clear skies accompanied with wind that smells of lingering early morning gardening that she has to suffer 2 hours at a time for every lecture makes her moody, her resting face seeming intimidating and unapproachable is not good company. She has friends, plenty of in fact, however they all have at some point mentioned how had they not been paired up or been a part of the same groups they would have never been friends because they were all weary of her.

Nonetheless, she puts in no effort to change it. She makes a quick stop at the girls bathroom, washing her hands and reclipping her hair up before making her way to class. English literature. Ironic, since her major had nothing to do with it, in hindsight. But still it was a core class to most majors at Hankuk. As she reaches the massive lecture room, she sits at the front, not because she’s an ace student, which she actually is, but she can’t focus if she sits in the back. She also had bad vision and doesn’t use her glasses often, even though she always has them. 

Luna pulls out her phone to check the time, 10:55, even though she took her sweet time getting to class, walking so slow she irritated some of the students who were in more of a rush than her, she still had 5 more minutes left. She pulls out her black frame glasses and uses them to push her hair out of her face, resting at the top of her head, because lord knows they were made to be used as a headband and not vision enhancement. Instead she squits, because she’s a striver. She pulls out her notebook, flips to the English literature section, pulls out her pen and leans back in her seat, waiting.

In walks mingi and eunbi, two of her friends since the first year, when they spot her they both smile and wave excitedly at her, which she returns. As they go to walk past her up the stairs, eunbi gives luna a quick smooch on the cheek, to which she scrunches her nose and giggles at. The two have been inseparable since they’ve become friends, going as far as jumping through hoops to be roommates this year. 

Before the two go to sit at the back row, so mingi can sleep and eunbi can take notes whilst occasionally bothering mingi as he sleeps, she tugs luna’s sleeve lightly, making her look up at her with raised brows in question. “Wanna go get coffee after class?” she asks with a shake of her shoulders, luna smirks and nudges her in agreement. “Can i come?” mingi asks leaning his bigger frame on eubi as he gives soft puppy eyes to luna whilst glancing down at eunbi.

“No,”

“Sure,”

 The pair look at each other, “no?” luna asks looking at eunbi questioningly, “oh sorry i think i picked up your habit,” she fakes shock as she looks at luna who rolls her eyes, “very funny,” she retorts pushing the pair away to go to their seats, and they do, giggling on their way up the stairs. 

In a few seconds time, the professor walks in, making everyone scurry to their seats and all the commotion to die down. The two hours pass by agonisingly slow, the course isn’t necessarily difficult, but it is very boring in some chapters, so much so that sometimes, even though the professor is highly terrifying, some students accidentally fall asleep and snore too loudly, which usually earns them a good scolding but a good laugh from the rest of the class. 

After a 2 hour long torture of occassional note taking, luna staring down the proffessor on accident when she zones out but doesn’t want to seem like she sin’t focusing, and stealing glances at her phone on the table every time eunbi texts the dozzing off emojie to the groupchat till she put her phone on do not disturb, the class was over. Luna, and other students,  slowly picking up their things whilst others rush to get to their next lecture. As she slings her black one shoulder bag on whilst getting out of her seat, she almost bumps into someone, he stops taking a step back. “Oh I’m sorry, are you okay?” he asks extending a hand to her. 

Luna nods with a tigh lipped smile, mentally drained from the class. “I’m good, don’t worry about.” she waves off, for a brief moment his eyes widen as she speaks but then he smiles nodding, bangs falling in his face but he pushes them back behind his ear. “Okay good,” he smiles standing awkwardly with luna slowly furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, ‘should i apologize too’ she wonders to herself, but before she could he points to the door, “i have class. Bye” he smiles politely and she returns in before he’s dashing out of the class.

“Who was that?” eunbi asks as her and mingi make their way down the stairs to luna, she shrugs “don’t know, we almost bumped into each other so he was just apologising.”

“That’s hyunjin.” mingi points out, nodding his head in the direction of the door where said hyunjin had just left through, both girls look at him for further information.

“Hyunjin who?”

“Your crush?”

“Childhood best friend?”

“Roommate?”

“Group member?”

“Why are your replies always so vague?” eunbi asks after their fit, luna nods i agreement, scowl on her face. “You didn’t ask how i know him.” he states as the three make their way out of the class. “Mingi, there are certain things that instinctively just, follow, you don’t need to be asked.” luna argues, leading the three of them to the closest door in order to get some sun and get away from the suffocating halls. 

“Not everything is instinctive luna.” 

“Not everyone has the patience and tolerance to ask the simplist things. Mingi.” she retorts back nudging him. He rolls his eyes, and luna catches it but before he could catch her wide eyes and mouth, eunbi cuts in “a new cafe opened up 10 minutes from here, let’s go.” she grabs both of their hands as she drags them to the campus gates. The three walk in, mostly, comfortable silence. With the occasional dread of their next class, except luna, who was done for the day. 

“How come your schedule is so good?!” eunbi angrily stomps making luna laugh at her childish antics. “I told you to wake up early on registration day, you missed the good slots.” she links her arm with a grumpy eunbi. “You’re such a virgo.” luna rolls her eyes at the comment, “stop with the zodiac signs, it’s just discipline.” she defends herself but Eunbi still grumbles ‘virgo’ under her breath but she doesn’t bother reply.

Once they reach the cafe eunbi was talking about all three of them have forgotten whatever conversation they were in the middle of as they entered, it was beyond beautiful. The cafe had different shades of brown and beige for furniture, there was another story on top with limited seats situated right in front of the window. The walls were covered in books that seemed to be accessible to customers, the cashier and pick up stall were white marble with a beautiful pastry display in the middle that caught luna’s eye. “Shut up.” she rushes to it, mingi hot on her trails.

Her eyes almost glimmer as she looks at all the displayed sweets. Chocolate strawberry muffin, brownie cookies, coffee cake, vanilla raspberry, tiramisu cake, they seemed endless. And all seem freshly made. Luna has a sweet tooth, a very severe sweet tooth, the wakes up in the middle of the night and craves something sweet type of sweet tooth. And ever since she was young desserts have always been a favourite of hers, and even as the years go by, they still will be. 

“Hello,” the sweet girl behind the counter smiles warmly at luna and mingi who were bent over the display. As she tries to stand up she bumps into mingi, nudging him to get off her as she bows politely returning the greeting to the lady. 

“What do you guys want? It’s on me.” eunbi says from in front of the cashier, luna shakes her head pulling her card holder from her bag as she approaches her, “absolutely not, you paid last time.” she nudges her and stands in front of the cashier with an offended eunbi stuck to her back. “This is our first time here, let me pay i told you about the place.” the lady stands behind the cashier with a smile on her face as she watches luna take her card out and extend it to her just as eunbi grabs the back of her pants to pull her back but luna takes her hand and wraps it around her waist, having eunbi’s chest pressed against her back, chin on luna’s shoulder as she pouts. 

“You’re annoying.” she mumbles in luna’s ear as the cashier takes the card smiling at them, “i feel well taken care of,” mingi says patting luna’s head as she swats his hand away. “Iced latte with almond milk please.” luna orders first “we’ll both have an iced americano please.” eunbi orders for her and mingi. 

“What cake do you want?” luna asks mingi, knowing he probably has his eyes on one but may be shy to ask since she’s paying. He hesitates at first but hums looking back at the display, “i’m stuck between tiramisu and vanilla raspberry.” 

“Let’s get both and try them out together,” luna suggests and mingi nods happily. “One tiramisu and one raspberry cake please.” the cashier nods and rings them up. “Here you go, hope you enjoy.” the cashier hands luna her card and receipt to which she politely thanks her for and the 3 of them turn to find a table. 

“Let’s sit up there,” eunbi points at the second story where the tables were against the large glass window that overlooked a beautiful view of the city. Mingi and luna followed her as she walked towards the stairs, “oh, you guys go, i’ll get the order.” mingi says turning back to the pick up area, not waiting for a reply. The two girls go to get a table, “this place will look gorgeous at night.” luna points out as the two set their bags  down and pull out the chairs next to each other. “Yeah, we could come study here when the dorm gets stuffy.” eunbi suggests and luna nods back eagerly, “i was just thinking that, it would be really nice, we could ask about their working hours before we leave.” she takes the hair clip out letting her hair down, ruffling it a little. 

Mingi comes back with their orders, luna and eunbi helping set the tray down because mingi seemed to be struggling with balancing the drinks. After taking her first sip of her coffee luna passes it to the other two to taste it, since they always mock her for not being able to handle black coffee  since she can’t have regular milk, but they both seemed to like it. “Let’s try the cakes.” luna nudges mingi who excitedly bounces in his seat with her, she unwraps one of the forks and hands it to mingi who happily takes it and digs into the vanilla raspberry cake in front of him. He hums in satisfaction as he leans on the table, luna smiles and pokes into her slice, as soon as she tastes it she leans back in her seat grunting lowly at how the desserts melts in her mouth, “it’s so good,” she says and mingi hums back.

“Here try mine,” she takes a piece and holds the fork up to his mouth, he tries it and instantly melts into his seat like luna. “Good right?” she asks him excitedly and he nods. “It’s so good!” he squeals making her laugh. “Here,” he breaks out of his haze and gets a piece of his cake to have luna try. She places her hand over her mouth as she hums happily, “so soft.” she says holding eye contact with a very enthusiastic mingi. “Do you want to try?” luna asks turning to a very smiley eunbi. “ you guys are so cute when you’re eating something you like.” she points out looking at the pair fondly.

“Try mine,” luna holds up the fork to a refusing eunbi, “no, i’m good.”

“She won’t eat it till she’s on her period.” mingi retorts making eunbi stick her tongue out at him. “Try it so you know to crave it when you’re on your period.” luna argues, making her give in. she takes the piece offered to her, she eats silently then simply nods. “It’s good.” she finally says after she swallows.

Luna turns to mingi with a distasteful look on her face “her reactions are so underwhelming.” she says taking a sip of her coffee, “i’m just not a big fan of desserts like you two,” eunbi defends herself to the pair, “that’s fine, i’m talking about your reaction.” luna retorts taking another bite.

The three of them sat together, talking and finishing up their drinks till both mingi and eunbi had to leave for class. “When do you finish today?” luna asks her roommate as they pack up, “four.” eunbi pouts whilst picking up her bag.

“Want me to pick you up?” luna offers grabbing the tray on her way down the stairs. “No it’s okay i’ll walk, you also have work.”

“I have work at 6, i could pick you up then we could have dinner before i go.” luna suggests placing the tray at the pick up spot and thanks the lovely lady behind the counter. “Yeah sure, are you gonna walk back to campus with us?” eunbi asks as they leave the cafe. “Yeah, my motorcycle is there.” 

“Okay miss racer.” mingi nudges her but she rolls her eyes, “i’m not a racer,” 

“Then why do you have a motorcycle?”

“It’s faster, also gas is cheaper.” luna defends as they begin their 10 minute walk, knowing they’ll bicker the whole way there. “Stop lying. You’re doing it for the chicks.” he points at her as she feign guilt and murmurs a sarcastic shit under her breath making the other two laugh. 

Upon reaching university campus, the three part, each going their separate ways. Luna makes her way to the stall where her motorcycle is parked, once on and her helmet is on, she rears out and is on her way to her shared apartment. Luna and eunbi managed to get an apartment that’s a good 15 minute walk from campus. By motorcycle, it’s a 6 minute drive. Thankfully both of the girls are well off financially to be able to afford an apartment this close to campus. Both girls work alongside university to support themselves. Neither of them is rich, they do get help with tuition from their parents. But they also pay a good amount of it and pay for all their personal living expenses. They don’t live luxuriously, but they live very well.

Once at the apartment complex, luna parks her motorcycle in her designated spot, takes off her helmet and pulls out her door card. Thankfully they were able to land an apartment in a well secured building where you can’t get in without either being a resident or being personally let in by a resident. They live on the 5th floor, which is why the elevator is very convenient when it’s grocery shopping day.   

When in front of her apartment, luna takes a quick look around the hall before entering the security code to their apartment. Once inside with the door locking behind her, she takes off her shoes, hangs up her bag in the closet next to the door with their last minute jackets they share. She hears the tiny patter coming closer, looking behind her from the closet she sees her little cavalier pattering towards her. She smiles big, bending dow to pick up her dog. “Hey coco,” she coos at the puppy, well 3 year old puppy i guess, scratching her head as she struts in, past the hall and into the living room where she plops down on the couch. She leans back into the couch, dog in her lap as she mindlessly pats and scratches her.  

The apartment is comforting, it’s very simple and very warm. They both had a hand in decorating and managing the general spaces, and since they signed a one year lease and will renew it again for two years, they put in a lot of effort and care. When you enter the apartment you are in the only hallway in the apartment, the first door on your right is eunbi’s room, the one after on the left is luna, and the third door on the right is the bathroom. The walls of the hallway are a light beige, much like the floor tiles. 

when you pass the hallway, to your right is the kitchen, with cool toned light grey marble and light beige cupboards. The table, placed at the far end of the kitchen space, is white, with twi white chairs, a white bench on the other side and two beige chairs on either had of the table. 

The living room, facing the kitchen is very warm and simple. Since the two girls really valued the space, since the apartment isn’t too big and they don’t like to feel cluttered, they only have one big couch stretched across one wall, the big floor to ceiling sliding glass doors that lead out to the balcony that lets in a lot of natural sunlight, a very important deciding factor for picking this apartment. A big white massage chair, excited impulse purchase upon signing the apartment lease, placed right in front of the window. On the wall facing the couch is a big flat screen that the girls only use on the weekend when they have enough time to binge a show. 

The relationship the two girls have, may seem unusual to some. Even they would find it weird if they met someone who took such a big decision only 3 months after meeting someone. But within meeting each other, luna and eunbi became friends fairly quickly, they found comfort in each other and have grown a bond that was so strong that it even scared them a little. 

Granted the girls aren’t perfect, they’ve had arguments, brutal ones, but also ones you would have with a sibling that cares about you very much. These arguments were never spared by jealousy, anger, resentment, or even a simple disagreement. 

Like the one time eunbi was so concerned over luna’s wellbeing during the last semester when she was spending endless nights with no sleep, overworking herself, taking on extra work to send her parents money for when her little sister needed urgent surgery, barely eating to the point that she was hospitalized. It upset eunbi that she wasn’t taking care of herself and was putting herself in such danger, seeing her in that state worried her a lot. But what really pissed her was when luna snapped at her one time, telling her mind her business and that she was fine. That was their first fight. 

When their apartment still had nothing but a couch, some kitchen necessities, and the two were sleeping on the same mattress in the living room. Eunbi had spent the night in her empty room, sleeping on the floor covered in only her jacket because she left the covers for luna. However, she woke up in the living room, on the mattress, covered in their shared fluffy blanket with a plate of food on the floor covered in syran wrap with a note that read ‘i made us breakfast but you didn’t wake up,’ and that made eunbi happy. Us. meaning she ate. 

One thing the two always did after their rare fights was talk. Always. And that is what ensures that they never fight over the same thing twice. 

After a few minutes of patting head and tail wagging, luna gets up to see what she could fix up for dinner. After checking the fridge and freezer, she decides on a quick and simple sushi bake. They had both salmon and shrimp, left over rice, and a half full pack of nori. And since they were due for a good grocery run in 2 days, they needed to empty out as much as they could so nothing goes bad. 

By the time it hit 3:30 and her alarm went off, she gave coco a quick snack, pulled out her outfit for work and laid it on the bed for when she needs to go, readjusted her hair and touched up her eyeliner, she then set up the plates on the table and covered them so they won’t go cold in those few minutes. 

“Ohhh working hours.” she reminded herself, realising she hadn’t asked the the cashier lady about their working hours, which may seem unimportant, but since luna studies early in the morning most of the time and needs to find a cafe that opens before 8, she deemed it important. It was on her way to and from university so it wasn’t too much of a hassle to pass by.

With a kiss to her dog’s head, she slips her feet into her shoes and grabs her keys, and is out the door. If it weren’t for korean law, luna wouldn’t wear her helmet, it almost takes the fun away from riding a motorcycle. You can’t feel the wind in your hair, on your face. Granted it keeps you from squinting all the time, but that’s about it. Sure safety is important too, but the wind. 

The drive to the cafe turns out to be a 5 minute ride, meaning it’ll take 3 minutes to get to university. As she shuts off her motorcycle and her phone in her pocket dings with a text message.

Eunbi: 10 minutes.

Good enough time.

Helmet in hand, luna pushes the door to the cafe open, upon entering she notices there are more people than in the morning, but it’s still not crowded.

She walks up to the cashier and waits behind the guy ordering in front of her. As he was done, takes his receipt and moves aside, luna notices him as the guy she almost bumped into after class. He notices her too, smiling and pointing at her “it’s you!” he exclaims at her. She raises her brows smiling, “it’s you too.” she returns and he giggles, pushing his hair back with a smile. “Welcome back.” the lady at the cashier welcomes luna, making her step forward and lean over the counter, “hello, i’m not here to order i just wanted to ask when you guys open?” 

“Oh, we open 7 and close 10 on weekdays and open 9 and close 11 on weekends” the kind lady answers, luna nods and thanks her. When she turns to leave the line she notices hyunjin still standing. 

“I’m hyunjin, i feel like since we bumped into each other twice it’s only proper i introduce myself.” he reaches his hand out for her to shake, and she does.

“Oh mingi told us, i’m luna.”

“He remembers me? Didn’t expect it we only met once. We have a mutual friend, changbin.” hyunjin explains pointing at a table where 3 other boys were seated, they were all looking over to where he was talking to luna. One had light brown hair and had on a pair of black rimmed glasses, he was wearing a a grey oversized sweatshirt. Another boy had strawberry blonde hair, he had on a stripped red and black sweatshirt. The third was slightly buffer then the other 2, he had dark brown hair and was wearing a white plain shirt, with a grey sweater or jacket over his shoulders, luna recognized him. They weren’t close enough for her to be able to see them properly but enough to be able to make out their silhouettes somewhat clearly.  

 Upon making eye contact, changbin smiled and waved at luna which she returned. 

“Oh i know changbin, or not his name at least but i saw him a few times with mingi, we also shared a class last semester.” luna notes as she turns back to hyunjin. 

“oh , are you foreign by the way? I’m just asking because of your name.” it might seem like an inappropriate thing to ask, especially since they’ve barely been acquainted with one another, but within the 2 years she’s lived in korea, she’s used to people being blunt, especially so with foreigners.

“Iced americano.” the lady at the counter calls, urging hyunjin to pick up his drink and a straw.

“Oh that’s a very wild guess, what could have possibly urged it?” luna jokes making hyunjin giggle a very adorable giggle where he covers his mouth with the hand holding the straw.  

He punches the straw into the drink and holds it out to luna. She looks at the drink before letting out a chuckle and shaking her head, “no thank you.”

“I’m from Cuba actually.” she finally answers making his eyebrows shoot up into his hair line, “oh, i’ve never met anyone from Cuba.” he states back, interested.

“Yeah me neither.” luna deadpans making hyunjin let out this shocked sound, “i’m joking.”

 “i’ve lived in canada most of my life,” she explains, his mouth shapes a ‘o’ and he nods. He notices the helmet in her hand and points to it, “do you ride?” hyunjin asks excitedly looking from the helmet to luna few times.

“I do,” she replies with a smile holding it up. “I do have to go pick my friend up though.”

“yeah , sure.” he takes a step back allowing her room to move, “it was nice talking to you hyunjin.” she says finally as she waves and walks past him but not before he returns the smile and waves “likewise.” 

When outside luna notices that the sun is beginning to set, giving the sky a very beautiful view with splashes of orange and darkening shades of blue as the night approaches. 

She puts her helmet on and gets on her bike, she takes the quick trip to university, stopping right at the door where students have already began filing out. She leans over, pulling her visor up and pulling out her phone.

4:01

She’s exactly on time, so there’s no need rushing eunbi. She scrolls on her phone for a bit, motorcycle still running as she waits for her roommate.

She feels a pair of hands on her waist making her turn her head to look behind her. “Hey, girlfriend.” eunbi greets excitedly as she gets behind luna with her arms around her waist. Luna chuckles, taking off her helmet. 

“Put this on.” she hands it to eunbi who gladly takes it. “You’re using me as an excuse to not wear it.” she secures it over her head before clicking the safety in place.

“Yeah, and I still haven’t found another one that’s worth the money.”

“You’re really buying another helmet for me?” eunbi asks, voice laced with excitement and fluster. Luna simply nods, “hold on tight.” 

“I took a picture of you, can i post it?” eunbi asks showing her the picture she took just seconds ago of luna on her phone leaning on her bike. 

“Sure.” is the last thing she tells eunbi before taking off to go home.

After eating, eunbi doing the dishes whilst luna changes for her tutoring session and filling up coco’s food and water bowls, luna is stood in front of the mirror at the door adjusting her white button up into her jeans. 

“Seeing you in these clothes is still so weird to me.” eunbi says from the other end of the hallway, watching as luna pulled her long hair into a low bun. “I’m an actress. I must play the part.” luna replies, pulling front pieces out, not liking how sleek her oily hair looked in the bun. She’s due for a shower as soon as she’s back. “Don’t go pulling a parasite.”

“If i do at least you’ll know where to find me.” luna checks her teeth one final time before turning to eunbi.

“Can i borrow your bus card?” she nods, “isn’t today thursday though? Why are you going to jihoon?” eunbi asks going into her room, coming back a few seconds later, bus card in hand. She knows luna only takes the bus when she’s going to jihoon’s house for a lesson since she doesn’t want to show up on a bike.

“He has a test next week, he asked for the extra lessons.” 

She holds up the card eunbi just gave her “Thanks. Bye honey i’m off to make us some money.” luna bids her friend, in a very high pitched tone making eunbi laugh loudly, scaring poor coco who stood at her feet watching luna put her shoes on.

“Don’t wait up for me if i’m late, you have an 8am.” luna says, standing in the doorway of their apartment, with an accusing finger pointed at eunbi.

She grumbles and stomps, “you do too though,” she defends knowing very well luna is an early riser no matter how much sleep she gets, even if it’s an hour.

“Bye.” luna blows her one last kiss before closing the door. 

i’ll post the next part once this reaches 20 likes/reblogs <3

[skzsauce01]

Cold, White

Synopsis: While competing in a QR code treasure hunt event at your friend’s Halloween party, an unexpected companion gives you a little company. 

A districtninewriters event.

Warning: slight sexual harassment, mentions of creepy-ish props

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: gn!reader x exbf!Seo Changbin

Genre: fluff, college party au

Read intro here. Return with the “pink Among Us astronaut” link

But which one?

After a few moments, you spotted two vampires talking softly to each other. It shouldn’t be too hard to strike up a conversation with them, you decided and began walking over. Halfway there though, you turned around, feeling someone or something staring at you back. However, you didn’t spot anything, and turned back around to head towards your destination, all the while still feeling like you had eyes glued to your back.

“Hi,” you greeted, walking up to the vampires. “I’m Y/N. How are you two doing tonight?”

They turned to you, and you immediately regretted choosing them to walk up to.

“Oh, a little skeleton,” one of them smirked, looking you up and down. You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

The other one slung his arm around your waist and leaned in far too close. “Can I get you something to drink, Lil Boo?”

Oh, you did not skip studying for this. “Actually, I’m going to--”

Out of nowhere, the lights turned off. There were a few screams, but none as loud as the one in your heart when the vampire used the darkness as a chance to slide his hand down to other areas. You tried stepping away, but his grip was strong, so you just squeezed your eyes shut and hoped the moment would pass quickly. 

Before he got all the way down, however, you heard a loud crack and felt his hand flying off of you as he tumbled a few feet backwards.

“What on earth, man?” he cursed, and you were suddenly aware of a new presence beside you.

The newcomer made a weird noise as if he was breathing through a machine and turned towards you. He offered you a hand, and when you tentatively put yours into it, he dragged you away, leaving behind the vampires.

“Thanks,” you gasped once he finally stopped at a faraway corner.

He placed one hand on his hip and used the other to rub the back of his… head? It was much too big to be a human head, you decided. Was he wearing some sort of mask? It was hard to see in the dark, but he sensed your curiosity and leaned forward for you to take a better look. You reached for it slowly, and when he didn’t resist, you placed your hands onto his costume. The majority of it was warm and fabric-y except for where your thumbs landed. There, it was cold and possibly white like a one-way glass. A visor of some sort, you decided, and tried to push it up to see his face.

As soon as you do, however, he jerked back and quickly shut the glass back down.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered out.

He seemed too distracted to respond to your apology. You turned to see what he was looking at and saw smoke rising from BamBam’s mezzanine. Was there a fire? No, the kitchen is to your right. Before you could question any further, the lights came back on, but only on the second floor, casting a spotlight over your best friend who stepped grandly out of the smoke.

“Good evening, ghouls and fools, snitches and witches!” his voice boomed. “Are you ready for tonight’s main event?”

Ah, that’s right. The reason why BamBam’s parties were so popular was because there was always a special kick to them, be it a go cart race or a game of Running Man. This must be why the lights are off, you realized.

“Around the house, I have hidden a QR code on each floor of the house. Each one will give you a couple of words which when unscrambled will give you the name of the item. The person who makes it to the backyard gazebo first with their item first wins,” he explained. “Each code is locked by their own minigame which you have to complete to access, but of course, your efforts will not be without reward.” There were a few ooh’s at that announcement. “Whoever brings me their time first wins… two tickets to the Caribbeans!” 

Your ears perked up at that; maybe you were glad to have skipped studying after all. The Caribbeans! You’d heard many good things about that vacation spot and had always wanted to go with someone special. Someone special. You looked sadly down at your hand that felt oddly empty without a familiar warmth around it.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go!” prompted BamBam.

Around you, footsteps of partygoers dispersed in a frenzy and excited squeals filled the air. You looked around, surprised to see the masked man still standing beside you.

“Are you going to participate?” you asked.

Instead of answering, he pointed at you.

“Me? Yeah, I guess I am.”

He seemed to perk up at your answer and shyly tugged on your sleeve.

“Do you want to come with me?” you guessed. 

He nods.

“Alright, but if you win, you’ve gotta give me one of those tickets,” you joked, but to your surprise, he agreed to your condition readily.

The first minigame was not hard to find since there was a crowd around it. It was a simple ring toss game where you had to throw pumpkin shaped hoops onto brooms labeled with different point values until you reached 100.

The task proved to be more difficult than anticipated, but you were making considerable progress compared to others because your pink friend ran back and forths, picking up your rings for you.

At last, you got to a hundred, and the gamemaster revealed the code to you. You scanned it with your phone and read the clue.

친. (Chin)

Satisfied, you looked up, expecting to see the astronaut throwing his rings. Instead, you found him waiting for you just around the corner.

“You aren’t participating?” you asked, walking up to him.

Again, instead of answering, he pulled you by the sleeve to the next floor. By the pep in his step, you could imagine him smiling behind that cold white mask, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew something you didn’t.

You nearly laughed when you saw what challenge awaited you on the next floor. The room was decorated to the top with zombies and blood, but at the center of it all was a wizard stirring a pot labeled “love potion.”

“Who dares step foot into my lair?” hissed the sorcerer with an accent that was too over the top even for his character. 

“Just tell us what the mission is, Felix.” You shook your head with a smile. You knew Felix through your ex-boyfriend, and you stayed in touch even after whom you thought was your soulmate left you for college. 

Felix faltered for a moment from you calling him out, but quickly recomposed himself. “Very well, brave one. Your next mission is to prove that my potion works.”

You raised a brow. “How?”

“By drinking it, of course. And then--” he smirked in a way that set off alarms in your system-- “kiss me.”

“Oh, come on. What are we, twelve?” you scoffed at the reverse kissing booth challenge. Still, you crossed your arms and stepped over plastic bones and foam eyeballs to make your way over to him.

When you were about halfway, you noticed Felix’s smirk suddenly growing wider and questioned why. Your curiosity was soon satisfied, however, when the pink astronaut suddenly overtook you with large strides and beat you to the cauldron.

“Hey!” you complained, but your words fell on deaf ears.

The pink man kept his face turned away from you as he flipped up his cold white visor and downed the potion. It must have tasted horrible since this was a challenge after all, but he didn’t miss a beat slamming the now-empty vial on an adjacent table and planting a smooch squarely on Felix’s green face. He then flipped his visor back down and gestured at your phone.

“Me? Scan?” you frowned. “But you--”

Growing impatient, he took the phone from you and scanned Felix’s code. He then stuffed the device back into your hands and dragged you up the next flight of stairs.

You questioned his sudden change in demeanor but kept it to yourself. Instead, you looked at the next clue.

자. (Ja)

As soon as you arrived on the third floor, you immediately decided that its minigame was the hardest. Your eye twitched, not that anyone could see it doing so since the floor was completely blacked out. The only thing you could see was some glow-in-the-dark thread, and you were supposed to thread it through a normal, matte needle.

“This can’t be possible,” you deadpanned.

The gamemaster, someone you couldn’t see but very much wanted to give a piece of your mind, “wooooo’ed” unhelpfully at your misery. 

Your eyes struggled to switch between the different light levels, making your whole body tense up and your hand to shake. You let out a frustrated grunt after your nth attempt. By then, other competitors also entered the room, making you nervous and even more shaky.

As you were about to hang your head in surrender, you saw a pink glove clasping over your hand and steadying it. The touch sent a familiar sense of electricity up your spine, but you ignored it in favor of the task at hand. Together, you finally got the thread through after five tries.

“Yes!” you celebrated, startling a few other competitors around you.

The gamemaster handed you a slip of paper with the code on it, and your new friend led you to the exit by hand. When you realized that his hand hadn’t let go of yours since the game, a blush crept over your cheeks. You cleared your throat twice to push down the heat, but it seemed the astronaut took it the wrong way and immediately dropped it and looked at you with worry.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head when he started bowing. “I, uh, I just had something in my throat. I should thank you, actually, for helping me back there… and for all the times before that too.”

He stared at you for a few moments, looking down as he was a few steps above you on the staircase, and you couldn’t help but wonder again what he was hiding behind that cold white mask. Just as you were about to reach forward again, however, he turned back around and resumed climbing the stairs.

The last minigame was on the roof. There, a sign greeted you, telling you that multiple QR codes are hidden around the place, and that you had to find one of the many to complete your word hunt.

You looked at the code you received from the thread game. 구 (gu), it read. What could the last hint be?

You and your pink friend looked and looked, but struggled to find anything. BamBam sure didn’t make things easy for you, did he, you scoffed dryly, looking at all the pools of slime and hollowed out pumpkins where the code could be hiding.

It didn’t help that it was particularly cold that night and that you were on the roof of a three story house. As you shuffled around some prop mummy’s linen for the code, you felt a chill run up your body.

The astronaut must have been at least ten broomsticks away, but as soon you shivered, you heard him walking right up to you.

“Hey. Did you find it?” you asked, not grasping why he was here.

He shook his head and rubbed his hands up and down his upper arms before pointing at you.

“Me? Yeah, I guess it’s a little cold, but I’m okay. Let’s just find this thing quickly and head back down.”

You turned back to your mummy, but your new friend didn’t move. Despite wanting to keep you warm, he realized he wasn’t equipped with a jacket to give you.

Finding nothing in the mummy, you moved on to the next coffin, oblivious to the man’s distress behind you, and patted down a plastic vampire for any goods. As you were distracted, you didn’t realize a figure looming over you from behind. By the time you noticed the shadow being casted over you, it was too late to avoid--

“Wha--”

-- the hug.

The pink astronaut, unable to come up with any other solutions, decided to share his body heat with you. It warmed you up alright, but you weren’t sure if it was because of him or the fire that ignited on your cheeks.

“H-how are we supposed to search like this?” you stuttered.

He thought for a minute before waddling side to side to show you how you could walk.

You chuckled at his antics. “This isn’t going to--” 

And then you saw it. Right there. Stuck on his arm. The last QR code.

“You found it!” you exclaimed, surprising him with how quickly you whipped out your phone and took a picture of the code. “You must have brushed up against it when you were looking around.

This time, you grabbed his hand and made your way downstairs to the backyard as the scanning process loaded on your phone. Once there, you looked at your last clue.

“남(nam),” you read aloud now that no competitors were around you. “친. 자. 구 . 남.” The words were scrambled, so you read them out a few more times until the realization hit you. 

Your eyes widened. “남자 친구(namja chingu). Boyfriend. But I don’t--”

And then you looked up at the pink astronaut. He stared back at you, unmovingly, and your hands gravitated to his visor again. This time, he didn’t stop you, so you pushed the cold, white glass up to reveal the warmest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Changbin…” you breathed, recognizing him right away.

“Y/N, I know no amount of apologies can ever atone for me leaving you, but I’d do anything for you to take me baaaaaaa-aack!”

Without even hearing the rest of it, you dragged him to the balcony where BamBam was waiting.

“I got it!” you shout at your friend. “The item! I’ve got it right here!”

BamBam looked amused. “This is your boyfriend, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you said without missing a beat. Both the boys jumped a little in surprise at your eagerness.

“Alright then,” chuckled your best friend into a microphone. “We have a winner!”

You could hear groans coming from the house as gold confetti rained down from the gazebo. BamBam handed you the tickets and shot you a wink before making himself scarce. You gleamed at the prize until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Y/N-- oof!”

You attacked Changbin with a hug and wrapped your arms around him, frowning when you noticed he lost weight. “You’re back…”

After overcoming his shock, he returned the hug and patted you on the head. “I’m sorry I left you.”

You shook your head against him. “No, don’t be. You were chasing your dreams. What kind of person would I be if I held you back just because of our relationship?”

“But I hurt you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did, so--” You pulled your face away from his body to look him in the eyes-- “make it up to me at the Caribbeans?” 

Another loving smile spread across his face as he cupped yours with his hand. “I will, but be warned: I’m never letting you go again after that.”

You laughed together. “Ooh, spooky.”

~ ad.gold

[wienerbarnes]

Feel Good

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,817

Warnings: lots o drinking (its new years!), mentions to being nervous/self-doubt, drunk sam wilson, perhaps some smooching idk guess u gotta read it man

A/N: ngl I have like 4 cheek to cheek one shots that I wrote yesterday instead of working on school work or art commissions so lets enjoy this before that motivation spark dies okay enjoy my two fav ppl ever

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“Agent 51, stay behind, please.”

You meet Sam’s eye, confused for two reasons - this was supposed to be a quick debriefing after a mission, and he’s never called you out specifically before. You give him a nod and obligatory Yes, Captain before making eyes with Sharon, who gives you a quick smile before exiting the room with the other agents. That doesn’t give you anything. Is there already another mission? But if there was another mission, wouldn’t Sharon have stayed? Wouldn’t Bucky be here? Does it involve Bucky? Does-

“I want you to start training with the other recruits when they begin next week.” Sam informs you once the door closes behind the last person.

Oh.

This Friday is New Year’s Eve, meaning Monday begins the seven-week training led by Sergeant Barnes for wannabe Avengers Agents, before whoever remains continues on to undercover and psychological training with Sharon and other legendary retired agents of the field.

“Are you... sure?” You didn’t think there was a problem with the training you were currently doing with Sam, in fact, you thought you were doing pretty good for someone who hasn't followed a strict workout regimen in ten years. This would be the first time being around so many people with a greater chance of interacting. All of the meetings you go to have made you a little more comfortable with larger crowds, but you haven’t actually spoken to anyone.

“You know your file well?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, I’m sure.”

“I want you to continue your training with me on the weekends, though.” Sam adds.

Working out seven days a week? I might’ve considered prison if I knew this was a part of the deal.

“Won’t all of that all the time be hard?” You offer, suddenly scared for your biceps and hamstrings.

“Are you asking me if training to become a team member of the Avengers is hard?” Sam gives you a pointed look.

“...Right.” You stand, assuming that was all he had to tell you about.

“Also, there’s a little party Friday night. Nothing crazy, just me, Sharon, Bucky, Sharon and I are bringing some dates, maybe a few agents, but they usually go out and party. They don’t want to hang out with us more than they already have to around here.” He mentions as you reach the door.

Your hand pauses on the knob. A party. What if they pull some Carrie shit on you?

“A party?” You ask, eyebrows failing to conceal your silent fears as they tilt upward at him.

“I promise, it won’t be anything insane. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t think it was something you could handle.” He reassures.

Friday comes sooner than you’d hoped, and your anxiety still lingers, as much as you’d hoped it’d go away by now. You glance at the time, 8:00 in the evening. This was the time Sam told you everything would more or less be starting, but that you could go whenever you wanted, if you wanted.

You’ve actually been ready for about an hour, just too scared to go to the common area where everything was taking place.

You feel like you’re a teenager again; being invited to an event where you feel as though you won’t belong. An event where you know that everyone is so drastically different than you. You wonder how you would feel if you were different; if you weren’t so fucked up with trauma. Would you be a party person? Drinking and dancing through your twenties? Hooking up with men and women, maybe even having relationships?

You’re dressed in a short lilac romper, layers of silky ruffles around the tops of your thighs, and thin straps across your shoulders that cross against your back. The neckline is a tad low, a complimenting V that you’ve filled with layers of necklaces. Nude platforms put you about two inches taller without the fear of a heel, and you’re nervously picking at your recently painted green fingernails in anticipation for what the night will bring.

It’s not too late to not go. You can just tell Sam you ended up not feeling well, tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. not to let anyone bother you. Just take all these clothes off and put on your pajamas, and we can pretend you haven’t been thinking about this night for the last three days and spent all day thinking about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to act, reviewing your file just in case anyone asks you anything - we can just pretend you were going to be staying in the whole time.

You stand to begin slipping the straps from your shoulders, mind made up, when a knock sounds at the door.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., who is that?” You whisper out.

“It’s Sergeant Barnes, Agent.” The A.I. relays in an equally hushed voice.

You sigh and walk over to the door before opening it a few inches.

“Hey! You look so cute! Party’s getting started, let's go!” He steps back out to the hallway, an excited smile on his face which drops when he focuses more on the frown that decorates your own face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately stepping back towards you.

“... I’m nervous.” You all but whimper out. Why do you have to be such a baby?

“Why are you nervous?” Bucky asks, his voice calm as he genuinely wants to know what’s troubling you, not an accusatory tone found in his voice.

“Because there’s going to be a lot of people, and I don’t know anyone, and I’ve never been to these kinds of parties, or at least I haven’t in, like, a decade.” You ramble, exasperated with yourself.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed with you the whole night? Either here or down at the party?” He offers, ready to give up one of his favorite nights for you.

“Bucky, I’m not going to make you -”

“You’re not making me, I’m offering. Besides, Sam’s all over the girl he brought and Sharon’s halfway drunk with her little boyfriend; they’re not going to be much fun for me tonight.” Bucky justifies, sounding like the eldest of three having to deal with their younger siblings.

“C’mon, you’re really gonna waste a dress like that? And your hair looks all nice! And - wait a minute, are those new earrings?” Bucky butters you, showering you with compliments in a sweet tone, metal hand reaching out to touch at the earrings hanging from your ears, the small tink sounding right in your ear.

A girlish giggle escapes you at his teasing. “Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me. But you promise you don’t mind staying with me all night?”

“I promise, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the night with.”

The common area isn’t how you expected it to be; there’s definitely more people than Sam promised there’d be, but it’s not the thousands of strangers you’d imagined in your head.

“Let’s get a drink,” Bucky’s deep voice speaks in your ear, and you’re not sure if it's his voice that makes you shiver or his warm hand in yours, but the two of you make your way to the bar.

“What do you drink?” He asks you, after ordering the name of some drink for himself.

“Uhm - I don’t, I don’t know.” You mutter to him. He scans your face for a second before rattling off the name of some other drink to the person behind the bar.

You never really drank; sure, you had the shitty beer as a teenager or perhaps a celebratory shot during your time in the Navy, but nothing you remember explicitly. You weren’t even old enough to drink in the Navy, you had turned twenty-one when you were already with HYDRA.

“Are you excited?” Bucky interrupts your thoughts of lost childhood.

“Excited?”

“For the New Year!” Bucky exclaims, and you give him a smile even if you don't understand the hoop-lah.

“Sure?” You offer.

“C’mon! There’s so much opportunity and promise that comes with a new year! A million chances to grow, to experience things, to learn, to have fun. A new chapter for everyone.” He explains.

You smile at his positivity. A new year should be good for you based on his logic. A new chapter. You’d be starting your training. Getting ahead as an agent. Using your powers to help for good. Maybe making friends. Maybe getting closer to Bucky.

The drinks arrive and you appreciate that Bucky knows you so well; the drink in front of you is bright pink, different fruits crowded around the rim with a curly straw sticking out. His is a deeper brown, in a short, crystal glass, figures. Matches his whole dark and emo aesthetic. He stands before you in black jeans and a black buttoned shirt, black leather jacket to sit on top.

You take a sip of your drink and immediately have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from spitting it out. Am I that much of a lightweight or is there actual gasoline in this?

“Sorry, maybe I should’ve warned you, babe,” Bucky chuckles, amused at your reaction to a mixed drink. “I think there’s, like, four different things in that.” He wants to cringe for you, but all he can do is look at you with a cheeky smile while you struggle to swallow the sip down.

“Christ, Bucky, I’ll blackout by ten at this rate, are all of the drinks like this?”

“Honestly? Probably. Everyone loves getting drunk on New Year’s.”

…

The night is not nearly as bad as you were thinking it was going to be. The room is lit up in different colored lights and screens; all of the TV’s display the annual countdown in Times Square but are muted so that music can be played the whole night. People are dancing, drinking, laughing, having the most fun you’ve seen people have in a long time. It’s 11:51 now, and everyone’s gathering closer and closer in anticipation for the countdown into the new year.

You and Bucky are gathered together with Sam and Sharon, and their respective dates. You don’t think you’ll let Sam live down how drunk he is; you never thought you’d feel so much joy seeing your Captain slurring his words while making jokes and telling stories.

Sharon leans over to you and whispers, a gentle hand on your arm, “Can you come to the bathroom with me?” A small giggle escaping her because she, too, is equally drunk. You give her a nod and hand your drink to Bucky to watch over while you’re gone.

The bathroom makes your ears buzz with the silence you encounter and Sharon walks over to the mirror to retouch her makeup.

“I just needed a little breather, have you tried the drinks at the bar?” She asks, and you laugh knowing that that’s the reason she, and everyone else at the party, is wasted.

“Yeah, Bucky proceeded to warn me after I had started drinking.” Laughs are shared as she reapplies her lipstick, a bright red shade.

“Do you know who you’re gonna kiss tonight?” She asks, smirk playing on her lips.

Shit, I forgot about that. How awkward would it be if you’re the only one not having a partner to kiss at midnight? Don’t worry, plenty of lame, single, psychotic basket cases that hear voices don’t kiss people on New Year’s Eve!

“Oh, uhm, I probably won’t be kissing anybody.” You inform her with a nervous laugh.

“I think you should kiss Bucky.” She states matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, why not? He’s not here with a date and he surely won’t kiss a stranger. I think last year Sam ended up planting one on him at midnight.” She laughs, a few hiccups interrupting her as she remembers that night.

As much as you want to join her in laughing at the thought of Sam drunkenly grabbing Bucky cheeks at midnight and smooching him, a pit opens up in your stomach at the thought of kissing Bucky.

“C’mon, T-minus five minutes.” Sharon tells you, interlocking her fingers with yours as she drags you back out to the common room.

The two of you rejoin the group and Bucky hands you your drink back, though you don’t feel much like drinking anymore, stomach suddenly knotted up with nerves. You’re torn because you don’t necessarily have a problem not kissing anybody, but now all you can think about is the urge to press your lips against Bucky’s, new year or not.

A husky voice whispers in your ear, “You okay? You look a little pale, you wanna head up to your room?” Bucky looks at you with concerned eyes, willing to go up to your room two minutes before midnight to ensure your comfort and wellbeing.

“I’m… I’m fine.” You reassure him, giving him the most unconvincing smile ever, even you wouldn’t believe you. He silently pulls you away from the group and pulls you into a hallway.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

His pet names are, for once, not helping right now.

You take a large gulp of your drink, stinging a bit, but hopefully it’ll give you some courage and relax you a bit. Bucky chuckles and gently takes the glass from your hand, “Hey,”

“I’m fine, just have some jitters, is all.” You try and convince.

You take the drink back and grab his hand with your open one and take him back out to the open area, a sixty second countdown already starting.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and discard it on a nearby table as the entire room begins chanting. Sam is the loudest, one arm wrapped around the waist of his date and the other wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky’s smiling at his enthusiasm, yelling the numbers just as loud as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to bring you in closer to the group. Sharon is on the other side of you, but her focus is on her date as they look into each other’s eyes, just waiting for the clock to strike twelve so they can share a kiss.

The ball drops on the TV and the room erupts in cheers and “Happy New Year!”’s. Sam unhooks himself from Bucky and turns to grab his date's face as they share a laugh-filled kiss. You glance at Sharon and you suspect her and her date began sharing kisses a few seconds early. Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around your shoulders and he tugs you closer so you’re face to face.

His grin is wide, “Happy New Year -”

His excitement is interrupted as your courage finally kicks in, and with a hand on either side of his face, you pull him in and press your lips to his.

It takes him less than two seconds to reciprocate, dropping his hands to your waist and pulling you closer as your hands slide from his cheeks to his neck, wrapping themselves around.

There’s no more anxiety. No more nerves. No more doubts or second-thoughts. No more voices, no more people in the room, no more music; it’s just you and Bucky in that moment.

His lips are soft and sweet, a strong taste of the drinks he’s had tonight with a mix of sweetness that’s all him. He smells like man and like Bucky and your senses are overwhelmed in the best way possible. Tingles travel down your spine at the feeling of being so close to him.

You’re so, so, so good. Sure, Bucky’s imagined kissing you, but he never thought it’d feel like this. You’re sweet like cherries and you’re soft all over and your perfume is flooding his nose and it’s all he wants to breathe for the rest of time. Your skin sends sparks of fire through his fingertips as they rest on your bare back and slide down to your silk-covered waist.

You pull away and Bucky sneaks a few extra pecks before pulling away completely, not removing his eyes from yours.

“Happy New Year.” He wishes you with a love-sick smile.

“Happy New -”

“Happy New Year, Tinman!” Sam yelps in both of your ears, arms wrapping around Bucky and disconnecting him from you, but you can’t help but laugh at Sam trying to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek while he attempts to wrestle him off.

You feel electricity all over watching him, butterflies not only in your stomach, but all over your body, in every organ, in your bloodstream, in your head, everywhere. But as much as you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel good; you feel really good.

A few months ago, you wouldn't have imagined that this is how you were going to be starting the new year. But here you are, and you feel good.

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Summer Loving - Request

Requested by @amberautumn: I wondered if you could write a Ron Weasley smut where the reader visits him at the Burrow during the summer, and they stay up late after most everyone in the house has gone to bed

Word Count: 2.509

Pairing: Ron x Reader

Warnings: Smut (unprotected, consensual, semi-public), Virgin!Ron x Experienced!Reader

A/N: I made Ron a Virgin, fight me. 

The Burrow during the summer was a whole show of beauty and magic - literally.

Molly Weasley wouldn’t spend a single day without yelling to one of her children in utter desperation, either because Fred and George charmed the family clock to mark them in prison, or Ron getting in trouble along Harry, and Ginny being living-sass every time every day… Or any other shenanigans either of them managed to do right under her nose.

“I need some holiday…” She said one morning, “I deserve some holiday, Arthur.”

Arthur Weasley, who was absolutely in love with his wife, didn’t even hesitate. He knew that, if he refused, she’d explode in a million pieces and return as a ghost solely to haunt him for the rest of his days, and after she’d spend their eternity in a state of anger that would haunt his death as well.

“We’re only leaving for the weekend,” Arthur explained to his kids and Harry, “just to let her breathe.”

“When we return, I better find this house in perfect state,” Molly threatened. “I love you all, don’t take this personal, but you’re just… so many kids.”

“We know, don’t worry,” the twins replied with honest smiles. “We’ll behave better than ever.”

“I’m scared already…” Molly whispered but shook the thought out of her head. If her kids made a mistake, she’d find a way to fix it back after her return. “I love you, you know where to find us.”

Arthur said goodbye to them as well and they both disappeared in the middle of the front yard, with bags and all.

“Where are they going?” Harry asked.

“Charlie managed to get a room for them in Romania, it’s a quirky place but she’ll like it because the whole staff is mute,” Ron explained as he walked to the kitchen, shoving three cookies in his mouth right after finishing his sentence.

“Someone’s nervous,” the twins observed with a mocking smile on each of their faces.

“What did mum say about (Y/N) coming over?” Ginny inquired.

“Oh, she’s happy, she planned on receiving her with pumpkin pie and a scarf,” Ron mumbled, with his mouth full.

“How is she doing that if (Y/N) arrives…” Ginny stopped suddenly, and her mouth fell into an elongated O. “She doesn’t know (Y/N) arrives today, does she?” Ron didn’t answer, “YOU SNEAKY BASTARD!”

“What? Harry’s here during the whole summer and we don’t mind!” Ron exclaimed.

“It’s not about that and you know it!” Ginny grinned.

“Unless of course you also like to smooch Harry before going to bed,” Fred mocked him and started doing kissing noises.

“Not that we’d judge you, Ronnie,” George added, “Harry is quite a catch, but honestly…”

“That would actually explain why Ron offered me to stay at Charlie’s room this time,” Harry realised.

“Get lost!” Ron fumed and left to his room.

(Y/N)’s arrival was as awkward for Ron as one would imagine. The twins had offered to make dinner - which resulted in them only serving sweets - and the whole time they searched for Ron’s face to glance and offer him naughty giggles. (Y/N) remained unaware the whole evening.

At night, they decided to play a Quidditch match before going to bed. Fred, George and Ginny were going against Harry, Ron and (Y/N).

The game started. Ginny and (Y/N) were rather brilliant players who were both playing as Chasers, while Harry and Fred were the Seekers, and Ron along George were the Keepers. The rings were replaced with a pair of magical hoops that Charlie had left for them during his last visit, the hoops glowed and floated. 

There were no Beaters for two reasons: 1. There weren’t enough players. 2. Nobody had the energy to deal with the Bludger.

In the end, Fred, George and Ginny won. Harry had caught the Snitch (which had been hard considering it was the middle of the night and there was a New Moon) but Ginny had scored 150 points just by herself - the last ten points were scored at the same time Harry caught the Snitch.

After their irrefutable Victory, the twins and Ginny punished the Losers by making them pick up the balls, brooms and hoops, while they went to bed. 

Since Harry had caught the Snitch, he was able to put it in its box right away. The Quaffle, however, was lost somewhere in the great backyard.

“You go look for the Quaffle,” Harry commanded Ron, “we would’ve won if you hadn’t been distracted by your girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t distracted by her,” Ron refuted, “I got distracted by the looks you were all giving me.”

Harry chuckled. “Look, mate, I’ll go put these their place, and I’ll try to cover you for as long as I can.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Got the rings!” (Y/N) exclaimed, as she approached the pair of friends with the hoops in hand. “What’s with the smug faces?”

“We’re… Planning a joke on Fred and George to get back at them for being annoying dickheads.” Ron lied.

“I’ll have these, thank you.” Harry took the hoops from (Y/N)’s hands and juggled them among the brooms.

“Let me help you,” she said.

“NO!” Harry and Ron replied in unison.

“It’s part of the joke,” Harry said. “I need to… um… keep these myself so they won’t suspect anything while you two go get the Quaffle… and then we can proceed with the joke.”

“Right…”

“Yeah, only one person can go in the house or else they will wake up… Harry is an expert in sneaking in so…” Ron started to explain and Harry noticed how his friend ran out of words.

“Alright, bye!” Harry hurried and ran back to the house, cursing every time something fell off his hands.

(Y/N) and Ron lit their wands and went on looking for the missing Quaffle. Truth was, Ron had spotted it near the house, but he didn’t tell as an attempt to get (Y/N) as far from his siblings as possible.

“It’s a shame Hermione couldn’t come,” (Y/N) murmured, “We always have a great time together.”

“Yeah, but I guess Austria is more interesting than this place,” Ron replied. “She is coming though, she’ll arrive the last week of summer and we’ll all go together back to school.”

“That’s lovely.” They continued to walk until they reached upon a moon dark moor. “You’re not pulling a joke on your brothers, are you?”

“No,” Ron confessed.

“And you do know the Quaffle is under the lemon tree your mother has in the yard?” (Y/N) asked with a grin.

“Yes…” Ron answered, “Wait a second, you know too!”

“I’m not dumb, Ron,” she stated. “I know we talked about… that.”

“Yeah, that,” Ron cleared his throat.

“I do want that, Ron. It’s just…”

“What?”

“You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

“Oh, yeah, that…” Ron blushed. “I haven’t because my brothers would mock me and you and that is something I do not want.” He explained in a robotic manner.

“Your brothers aren’t here,” She whispered.

Ron looked down shyly, although he had a nice smile on his face. The girl took a step forward and kissed him gently.

It wasn’t the first time they kissed. No, they had kissed quite often in the hallways after class, under the biggest tree from Hogsmead, at the upper floor in the Three Brooms, on the train back home… That was only their first kiss from that day, but it felt like they hadn’t kissed in ages.

“Are we really going to do that here?” Ron asked in a whisper.

“Nobody said anything about doing that,” she replied and Ron’s face fell into a dumbfounded expression that made (Y/N) burst in laughter.

“I’m just joking,” she said, “I’m up for it if you are.”

“I am.”

Now that was their first time. They were both scared to death but also incredibly excited about what would happen.

They laid on the grass just the way they had done many times before in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. It was wet with summer dew but warm nonetheless due to the weather. They could hear crickets, frogs, toads, and even owls somewhere not far from there.

Ron was shaking. His kisses became shy around the corners of her mouth. She was patient, and soft, with him. It wasn’t her first time with a boy, just her first time with Ron, and though it was always scary to make love to someone new, she decided to play her part as the experienced one.

She didn’t force him to touch her, or to kiss her, or anything. No, she allowed him to go as he felt comfortable and, though Ron didn’t openly say it, he was grateful for that.

His kisses became deeper and slower as he balanced his weight between his knees and his elbows until he found a comfortable position, carrying his weight with one arm and his two knees. Then, with his free hand, he started touching her breasts over her shirt. He barely knew how they worked or what made them feel good, but they felt amazing under his touch and so he spent a good time squeezing them until he felt her hips move under his.

Ron pressed his hips to hers and lifted her shirt just enough to reveal her uncovered breasts. Gravity made them look and feel slightly different than when she was standing up, yet Ron thought of them as two pieces of the finest art.

“May I?” He asked timidly.

“Be my guest,” She replied with a smirk.

Ron leaned closer to her chest. He licked one of her nipples as he pinched the other with the free hand. She let out a breathy hum, which made Ron understand she was liking that, so he continued until he couldn’t contain himself anymore.

He unzipped his trousers while she unzipped hers. He pulled his own down to his thighs, and she simply took them off completely. 

Ron grabbed her hips with his free hand and carried her to align her core to his. But it was dark and, when he tried to thrust in, he found himself pressing against her groin. 

“Not there,” she giggled.

Ron blushed and tried again, failing once more. “I can’t find… it” he huffed.

(Y/N) decided to help him. She used one of her hands to guide him to her entrance. That was all he needed.

He thrusted her slowly, taking his time to allow her to adjust to him. It was a painless process, she was as wet as she could be and he was hard as a rock.

They made love at a slow pace. 

“Wait, there are branches poking at my arse.”

They moved clumsily trying to get rid of any branch or rock or anything that could poke her at any given moment. 

“Why don’t we try standing up?” Ron asked, feeling daring.

(Y/N) gave her a knowing look but agreed just to let him experiment. They stood up, and she managed to use a tree as a support to carry some of her weight. He stood up behind her, holding her hip with one hand and guiding his length with the other.

He thrusted in slowly, finally holding her with both hands. Her back was arched, and her hair was falling over one side of her face, leaving the other side free for Ron to kiss. He wrapped one hand around her waist and another one around her chest, to help her carry her weight as he sped up. (Y/N) was no longer holding back her moans.

She arched her back a bit more so her head could rest on Ron’s shoulder. “Touch me,” she whispered, and held the hand closest to her core and guided it towards her clit, teaching Ron how to touch her.

Ron obeyed, pressing her clit in a circular motion as he continued to thrust as deeply as he could. He was moaning as well, panting over her neck, sweating and feeling every inch of his half naked body covered in sweat. 

“More,” she managed to say. Ron obliged and she scratched the tree while she came all over his throbbing cock.

“You’re dripping,” Ron whispered, amused. 

“That’s how you got me…” She replied before turning her head back to kiss him. 

“D’you want more?”  Ron inquired, innocently.

“Yes,” she answered. 

In a newly achieved confidence, Ron pulled out and turned her around. He took off all of her clothes as well as his own, almost ripping them apart, and pinned her back to the tree. Both of her hands above her head, being held by one of Ron’s hands, and his other lifting one of her legs just enough to give him access to her entrance.

He pushed in and exhaled a groaned. “You feel tighter this way,” he commented and slowed down his pace, rolling his hips slightly every time he thrusted it. She couldn’t say a word, Ron’s pelvis hit her clit every time he thrusted in, and the idea of being pinned to a tree by no other than Ron Weasley in the middle of the night somewhere inside the woods next to his house was thrilling.

Ron kept thrusting in, making sure to not over extend her legs so she wouldn’t get hurt. He had maintained a careful pace - not too fast nor too slow - and also kept the eye contact in such a way that (Y/N) felt like she could die of pleasure.

Ron pushed deeper, hitting her cervix with his tip. (Y/N) shuddered, which worked for Ron as a sign that she had liked it and, therefore, continued to hit it until she reached her high once more, trembling in his arms as she dripped. 

Ron didn’t stop moving, not even when she was having her orgasm. No, he continued moving, searching for his own high but also enjoying every second inside her wet cunt. 

Out of a sudden, his whole body was controlled by a wave of heat. His legs trembled and his head went blank for a second. He managed to pull out right on time, spurting his cum away from (Y/N), into the ground. He was breathing heavily, and (Y/N) was just looking at him, aroused by the picture of him cumming.

“Did you cum?” Ron asked, once his feet were back on the ground.

“Yeah,” She said.

“I can finish you off in any other way…” He suggested before they started hearing voices nearby.

“RON! (Y/N)! WHERE ARE YOU?” Ginny, Fred, George, and even Harry, were looking for them.

“You can finish me off any other time, we’ve got to get dressed now, though.” She winked at him and started to get dressed as fast as she can, Ron did the same. 

Finally, they drifted back home; holding hands, with a big smile on their face and no excuse to cover what they had just done.

-------

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[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Shiraishi Yoshitake

Long live the King! You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Relationship for Shiraishi is more about friendship with intimacy than a long tradition-based order of courtship and conventions. His affection does not manifest in standard gestures like buying flowers or singing serenades, acting all gentlemanly and saving the day pompously like a romantic novel protagonist. If he ever does anything from list above, it is his daydreaming that he doesn’t try to bring to life.

One of Shiraishi’s main goal in the relationship is to keep his partner happy, and the main sign that they are happy is their shrill laughter. It doesn’t matter if they are laughing because stray toothy animal bit his head or because the joke was funny (yay!), mission accomplished and he is satisfied.  Seeing them cry is worse than being hit hundred times with a baton.

Every single soul in the one kilometer radius know whom Shiraishi loves and why he loves them and how amazing, adorable, lovely, cool they are. Sugimoto and Asirpa are making earplugs because Shiraishi can’t shut the hell up. He managed to piss off the men who kidnapped him with bragging about his loved one. Kiroranke puts maximum effort not to bury him in the nearest snowdrift. His admiration doesn’t die down through years.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best friend to get dumb with. Sing inappropriate songs, prank others, annoy boring elders and all this jazz. His jokes are never offensive because Shiraishi wants to have good time only but they are unpredictable and never repetitive. His instinct of self-preservation goes m.i.a. in the process so it’s literally life-saving to have a reliable person by the side.

If you need a friend to gossip with Shiraishi is you best choice. He got hot tea on everyone, I mean e v e r y o n e, from old man Hijikata to naïve Koito and he needs best friend to spill it. Damn, Shiraishi is definitely that bih with neon acrylics and golden hoops.

Probably the friend that introduce you to people and brings you into new circles. Wide range of characters, social statuses, affiliations gives a chance to meet potential partners. There is one unspoken rule though: you come here as Shiraishi’s bff, you leave this place as Shiraishi’s bff.

Speaking of which, he comes across as possessive friend. Restriction of other’s social circle and constant need in validation aren’t his behavior traits, but Shiraishi is sensitive to subtle changes in communication. Sole possibility of losing the established connection gives him extreme anxiety. To avoid it he can make concessions and sacrifice his own interests for them.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Eeh, indifferent? He doesn’t seem like a big fan of cuddling but will do it on occasions. When lights are down and they are in a private of the room, Shiraishi may spoon them to feel the comfort of another person and a little bit of safety he finds in their touch. He doesn’t have a preferred position as well: whatever his loved one wants he will do without hesitation.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The closest home equivalent that Shiraishi knows is a dark prison cell and this is how he sees the stability in its best light. Yep, same food every day, funny inadequacies behind the adjacent wall, and a guy in not-so-sexy uniform who checks his asshole now and then. What a paradise. Seriously, he needs time to get used to concept of comfort zone. Maybe, after few years Shiraishi himself will offer to find a cozy place for both of them. Average cook. Doesn’t know how to hold a broom.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Breaking up with Shiraishi is a whole three-ring circus because he is hot and then cold, yes and then no. Get ready to prepare sad clown look for both you and him because it will be a long story: as soon as the idea settles in his head, Shiraishi will turn into giant wreck. Everybody around notices him walking in circles as well as asking Sugimoto how to properly show person that he is not interested. Of course, he ignores rational “just tell them, set a record straight”. Of course, Shiraishi plays dumb and tries to distance himself in all ways possible and impossible. The only way to end this agony is to break the relationship yourself before the mutual sympathy and respect turn into disgust and tension.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Doesn’t experience a burning passion to get married but doesn’t completely discards this possibility either. If person seems to be the only one, the meant one, Shiraishi will pop a question after 3-4 years of stable relationship. Cruel push and pull game, sudden break ups and get backs together kill his will to settle down. He may stay with them but Shiraishi will never bring up thought of marriage, wedding bells, and family.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Even the prison could not knock softness out of Shiraishi: he is utterly gentle with his partner, dreading hurting them or jeopardize their life with the hunt of tattooed skins. Choosing the right words is a little more complicated so translation of an emotional mess in his head does not always convey implied sentiment. That’s the reason why Shiraishi may be unintentionally harsh when it comes to serious conversations: he is torn between being tender and showing firm character.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Somehow, loves hugs but rarely initiate them. He is almost always cold, his skin feels cold and rough like papyrus paper, therefore, his partner frequently serves as a living heater. When they are busy with work or chores, Shiraishi catches their hand and embraces their arm, practically immobilizing it. Hints fly left and right when Shiraishi wants a hug: he really comes to the partner with puppy eyes and  index finger pointing towards one another because no, he won’t go for it himself, he want his loved one to do it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Mentally, he already did it when they met for first time but it takes at least a month for Shiraishi to say three magic words aloud. Two would be even better. He's not serious enough to wait for the friendly phase of a romantic relationship when people have already got used to each other. The longer the relationship lasts, the more serious Shiraishi gets though. You can hear it in the changing of his voice when his playful “I love you so so much” shifts to calm and earnest confession.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Easily jealoused walking disaster that will follow his partner like a poodle if they give him a reason to doubt their faithfulness. Sometimes Shiraishi overreacts, he even thought Sugimoto was looking at his loved one somehow weirdly but quickly brushed this idea off just for it to come back to him next day. Shiraishi gets extremely needy and tries to show everybody that this is HIS person. He is NOT sharing. They love ME. He gives them extra kisses, hugs, grabs their hand and squeezes it few times, smiles at them as much as he physically can.

If his loved one is the one being overly flirtatious, Shiraishi feels awful. Wave of insecurity knocks him off the feet and he doesn’t know what to do. He is overthinker so without proper explanation Shiraishi comes up with the worst scenarios possible. In this case he distance himself until person reassures him in their relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In the beginning, Shiraishi seems the worst kisser in the world. He has little experience, almost no experience to be honest: yujo do not have time to teach clients the art of kissing. So, yeah, he is pretty average, goofy, sloppy and eager. Wants to kiss everywhere anyhow.  

After a little bit of training his kisses become more sophisticated, and Shiraishi himself doesn’t try to jump on his partner with smooches. He is still impatient when they put their hands on him and tends to get touchy even in public places. When Shiraishi gets in the mood for kissing session, he is unstoppable.

There is a sweet spot right under the earlobe kissing which send Shiraishi on the cloud nine. One kiss and he surrounds to the will of the partner. Ask whatever you want. Besides that he doesn’t care where to be kissed. Likes to give his partner gentle pecks on the nose and cheeks.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you remember chart going around the Tumblr with categories like “wine aunt, great at babysitting, mediocre at babysitting” Shiraishi would fall both in “God is dead, house is on fire” and “Is a baby”. Kids absolutely love him because they are on the same level *cough cough* and he is overall funny guy unlike the most adults around. Shiraishi likes active games and never sits still. For every crying child he got a candy and few tricks in his sleeve. He would love to be a father one day so he has few more minions to annoy grumpy people.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

People who sleep in together stay together. This is the rule of Yoshitake house. No matter what time his partner wakes up Shiraishi wakes up later. Nine in the morning? He is in the bed until noon. Three in the afternoon? He is still sleeping, squeezing his partner tightly in his arms. Even after waking up Shiraishi stays under the blanket. He playfully asks the loved one if they want to keep him company and cuddle too but if they are in hurry, he will lazily crawl out of bed and cook something for them.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Prefers to spend night outside gambling or drinking, skinny-dipping, lying in the grass and telling fables with varying percentage of truth. In the cold season Shiraishi still likes to go downtown but mainly to meet old friends and have dinner with them and his loved one. Rarely he chooses to stay in the comfort of home. Shiraishi teaches his partner different board games, and soon playing turns into a competition. From time to time Shiraishi loses on purpose, gifting sweet victory in shogi/igo/karuta to the most significant person in his life.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You don’t have to ask anything unless you want to spend next hour listening to Shiraishi’s biography. He will tell you about the relationship with parents, about childhood scar on the knee, about search of Sister Miyazawa, and what a bastards his cellmates were. The list is endless, and every day Shiraishi remembers one more story he forgot to tell. There are only two things that can stop him: firm “no, not now, Shiraishi” from the partner and lack of mutual openness on their part.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It is impossible to piss Shiraishi off. His ability to reduce everything to a joke does not help only in advanced cases where person wanted to break his neck from the beginning. Even when his patience runs out, Shiraishi cannot explode in anger, he just grimaces, stomps, and spits sarcasm. In everyday life, he avoids conflicts as much as possible and does everything to find a convenient compromise so you won’t catch him slipping. He would rather go for a walk and leave another person to cool down than get involved in heated argument.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t remember shit if his partner doesn’t indicate that it is important information. Worth remembering. Shiraishi, please, listen. At the same time he notices slight changes in their appearance, from new haircut to ring, and keeps in mind such details like eye color, favorite clothes, maybe, particular qualities like never buttoning shirt up completely or writing notes on the wrist. Anniversaries? Baby, he doesn’t remember what day it is today. Just give up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first kiss. Not only did it happen completely by accident due to a bet, but it was so awkward and unexpected that Shiraishi forgot how kissing works. Yep, he froze feeling their warm lips on his, only eyebrows slightly raised up in disbelief. After this incident, Shiraishi could not stop thinking about them. God, he is disgrace, to embarrass yourself in front of the person you like. It could not be otherwise. To remedy the situation, Shiraishi pulled himself together, remembered the cheesiest lines in the reserve, and suggested to try again because he was astonished by their daring attitude. He has no idea what happened after that but that spontaneous kiss with a touch of childishness and innocence stayed with him forever.

Oh, one more moment! Meeting them after coming back from Karafuto. Honestly, Shiraishi didn’t believe he will make it out alive. Ogata or Kiroranke could slice his throat, hide the body, and tell Asirpa he left with his tail between his legs. Therefore, it is miracle to see their adorable face again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Let’s be real, he is the one who needs protection. He also needs some ass-whooping for getting in troubles regularly too but that is not the point. Shiraishi rarely stands up against obviously strong opponents and chooses famous Joestar backup plan – run for his life with loved one under his arm. Another option includes involvement of threatening allies, mostly Sugimoto, to save them both. Sometimes courage overwhelms him, and Shiraishi comes up with risky but bold plan how to save them without outside help but it happens much less often.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Most of the time, Shiraishi hopes that everything will be fine by itself, every event will run like clockwork without excessive effort. Dates are unpretentious: no fancy restaurants, exquisite gifts, long intricate confessions of endless love, etc. To his credit, Shiraishi takes chores more or less seriously and does his best. For the anniversaries he transforms in person you've never seen before: dressed immaculately Shiraishi holds a small bouquet of bright moss phlox and box of sweet sakuramochis, his face glows with happiness and love, however, you can sense a nervousness behind the wide smile. On days so special, he is afraid to ruin the mood with usual tomfoolery.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Canonically, Shiraishi is not the tidiest person around. For some it may be stumbling block because constant battle with desire to throw him in hot springs and scrub ingrained dirt with the hardest sponge can be too tiresome. Also Shiraishi bites his nails until they bleed as well as pulls the hangnails until his fingers start to hurt.

A sense of proportion leaves Shiraishi as soon as a bottle of sake appears on the horizon. Even though he is funny and harmless drinker, he goes overboard with alcohol to end up throwing out behind the nearest pine.

Little lies always slip through the conversation no matter what it is about. When the truth is revealed, it is too late to blame him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Shiraishi doesn’t care about his appearance but likes to get compliments on it. He knows bunch of tricks how to remove different stains from clothes in the wild and doesn't know how to avoid them. One look is enough for Shiraishi: he could wear his old prison uniform for life time because it is strangely comfortable and universal for any event. Except the pursuit by guards, of course.

Has mixed feelings about his tattoos. Living with them is to sit on a powder keg: you never know when the new man with the gold rush will try to scalp you alive.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Gets very, very attached to the friends and loved ones so break up feels like punch in the gut. Unlike the rest, Shiraishi basically refuses to let go. He gets clingy, keeps acting like nothing happened, like they are still the best friends, just to cover up growing emptiness inside. No matter how hard he ignores it, Shiraishi can feel how part of him fades. Sometimes even abrupt refusal doesn’t work, but it’s simply his way to deal with sadness.  After few weeks, he has an insight that things will never be the same and that when it hits him. Shiraishi tries to distance himself and it takes all of his strength since by this time he becomes easily distracted, irritated, and whiny. He needs months to get over it.

If they died or were killed, Shiraishi puts effort to maintain his clown image. Only closest people can notice small detail that give away his sorrow and melancholy. Doesn't attempt to get revenge. The time to recover increases to year.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Do you think Shiraishi went to jail so often because of negligence? Partially, yes. Besides the fact Shiraishi is being hopeless fool, he finds prison cell a great place to take a break from fleeting life. If you think about it time slows down behind bars. There’s no point to worry what tomorrow will bring, how to survive and make it through another scuffle, and his impressive skills guarantee him easy escape.

Shiraishi has joint hypermobility syndrome which helps him bend joints at unusual angles and even pull bones out of the fossae. Prolonged arthralgia is a side effect that Shiraishi had to deal with from the first conscious days. There are days when the pain becomes so excruciating that he just wants to lie still and stare at the sky for 24 hours.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Continuous scolding when there is a reason and when there is not. Yes, with his behavior it is difficult to resist the urge to say a couple of strong words or raise your voice, and Shiraishi is totally okay with it until rebuke becomes daily tradition.

Shiraishi's thoughts are always in motion, usually Brownian motion, his body twitches even when he tries to sit calmly in one place so stagnation in any form would be the death of him. This includes repetitive thoughts, boring behavior, and general passivity.

Shiraishi is genuinely upset if his partner doesn't like children. This is an inexplicable feeling, he really hurts if they ignore little ones or, worse, openly express dislike for kids.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Prepare yourself to unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, you will have a lot of them. Shiraishi keeps running from guardians of the law even in his sleep: he kicks, turns, throws his arms out to the sides for the most part of the night. Accidental elbow blow to the nose is not uncommon either. Worst of all, he does not wake up after that!

In the morning Shiraishi likes to sneak closer to his loved one and just presses him onto them. Like, completely. He throws his leg over them, hugs them, presses his cheek to their back, and if it feels just right in winter, in summer such cuddle can be a real test.

Abrupt sleep schedule changes do not bother Shiraishi at all. His organism is so adapted to the crazy lifestyle that he stays fresh even after sleepless night, after waking up at 3 a.m. and going to bed at 3 p.m.

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 6 (d.d)

A/N: hey whores!!! enjoy this. it’s a good one! i’m very proud of it. as always, let me know what you think of it. spark up a conversation about something in it with u and i’ll give u a big ol smooch. i love you and thank you for reading <33 -hailey

WC: 3.35K

David is sitting in the pews with you during Mass, arm draped around the back of your seat as one of your brothers, next to you, discreetly slips a wad of cash into David’s dangling hand. He removes his arm from around you, fingers quickly counting the amount – seventy dollars for seven grams, split between Mark and Matthew – and reaches into his breast pocket. David passes you the two miniature pill bags, each containing an eighth of an ounce, and watches as you quietly place them in Mark’s hand. 

 David casually rests his arm on the back of the pew again, eyes scanning the cathedral warily for any witnesses. He does more business at church than he’d like to admit – which is of your doing, not his. The list no longer begins with Michael and ends with Mark; his clientele has amassed, and a good chunk of his dealings are done after church. You and David meet people as they are heading to post-Mass breakfast in places throughout the city, forcing him to leave large amounts of weed in his car unattended. He doesn't like it, and fears getting searched by dogs, causing David to quadruple seal the amount of weed he intends to sell.

 The night before, Saturday evening, he weighs everything out, separates it for each person, puts it all in one colossal Ziploc, and puts the Ziploc inside of another one. Four times. These bags have earned the chief title of his weed Russian dolls, and David seals up the final plastic bag by wrapping it tightly in duct tape. It’s a grueling process, and he hates that he has to do it.

 You and David deal afterwards, mint toothpicks in rotation as he makes his pit stops, replacing the ideal cigarette his fingers are desperately itching for. Part of him has a desire to quit his horrible habit; maybe get prescribed Chantix, switch to Nicorette, anything else he could possibly do — but every time he thinks too deeply about it, he instantly changes his mind.

 David likes the routine of it all; he likes the purchase of the Camels, heartily tapping the bottom of the plastic wrapped pack against the dirty gas station counter as he glances down at the scratch offs and slides his debit card through the reader. He likes hopping in the car and rolling his window down, unwrapping the new pack and opening the top. He can smell the crisp scent of the tobacco at the mere thought of a new box, and he likes the tight wiggle of the first cigarette as he tugs it out. He likes tearing out the little foil at the top for easier access later down the line, and he likes flipping his lighter open loudly, thumb rolling the spark wheel and bringing the tip of his cigarette to the flame. He likes the smell of the smoke, and he likes the feeling of his lungs filling up as he takes the first drag. He likes how the scent infiltrates his clothing, his hair, his skin – many people despise it, but it's his favorite. It’s a distinct red flag of the addiction he has a soft spot for, the one he wouldn’t want to give up, for others to see and judge him upon. He doesn’t mind it and doesn't care for their opinion; it is something many people hate themselves for, but he takes pride in it. He loves that he smokes. 

 You don't know the extent of it, but he feels this way about sex, too.

 David takes you on expensive dates at opulent restaurants, and he swears he feels his eyes zero in every time you take a sip of the dry merlot he ordered for you, your suggestive gaze peeking at him over the rim of the glass. He attempts to not pay attention to the way your lipstick has tainted the edge of it, momentarily considering the image of what those specific lipstick prints would look like at the base of his dick. He tilts his head to the side as he watches you wipe politely at your lips after taking a sip, blush coming to your cheeks at whatever provocative joke he had just made. He hates lipstick, but adores the mess it leaves behind, depending on the night, the dress, and the purse. Sometimes he has trouble getting a deep plum out of the collar of his dress shirt; a delicate and innocuous pale pink blended into the skin on his chest; or — his favorite — a deep scarlet smeared down his first two, maybe three, fingers as he slides them slowly into your mouth, last knuckle tucked in as you give him doe eyes. 

 He even likes when he wakes up the next morning hungover, bowtie still hanging around his neck and dress shirt unbuttoned as he looks in the mirror, a ruby red smeared across his mouth and cheeks from the night prior. He likes peeking over at you out of the bathroom door, knocked out in his bed and still in your dress, with the same red smear evident across your face. 

 David has no desire at all, but also every desire on the planet, to have sex with you. You’re too clean — it makes him nervous.

 He hints at this fact over dinner one week when the subject of sex comes up as he nurses a whiskey sour in a stout glass, waiting for your food, “I roughen you up…”

 “And I let you roll around in the dirt for a while,” David continues, eyes glued to yours as he takes a sip and smacks his lips, “But you go home and you rinse it all off, and I start all over the next day, and the next day after that.” 

 You stare at him with big eyes, not saying anything. He opens his mouth to speak again, placing his cup down on the cocktail napkin and sliding it around in a fidgety manner, “I want you to let it sink in, and let it stain.”

 You nod at his command, reaching for his glass and taking a liberal sip. Your lipstick stains it. “What if sex is the way to make it all stay?”

 David pauses, scoffing slightly, “It could be. Honey, you go to church twice a week. You bless yourself at every turn.” 

 “How do you even picture it?” He asks curiously, leaning forward, “Like every teenage girl? Candles around the bed? Romantic sex with your beau?”

 You don’t answer him, taking a long swallow of your wine, and he continues, shaking his head, “I can promise you right now, sweetheart – if that's what you’re hoping for, you won’t be getting it.” 

 “Does it matter how I want it?” you reply, playing his game, “What do you want?”

 “I want to chew you up and spit you out,” David replies easily, signaling for your waiter, “Do this again.”

 “But I’m not going to,” he rejects, fiddling with his gold cufflinks, “Just know that I want to.”

 “What does that mean?” you ask him, “Give me details.” 

 “I see you right here and right now, dressed in my money and my hustle. That dress is so tight that you wiggle side to side when you walk, and you could barely sit down in the booth earlier. I think about taking you to the Waldorf – up a few streets, and over a few streets, by Lake Shore – getting us a room, and having my way with you all night.” 

 “Why a hotel?” 

 His second drink comes, cutting him off before he begins. David takes a long sip, eyes not tearing away from you, “Because you walk out with the same things you walked in with. We get to do that little messy walk of shame all the way back home to Wilmette on the train, and you finally feel like the whore you’ve always been. You will find something out, my love — your God,” he pauses slightly, “can do anything and everything but pull the slut out of you, sweetheart.” 

 “You’ve thought about this a lot,” you respond, finishing your glass of wine, “Why don't you?”

 “Don’t tempt me.”

 “I know there must be more,” you state, watching as David fills your glass again with the bottle on the table, a silent beckoning to continue drinking with him. “Go on.”

 “Why ruin the surprise?” He asks, speaking too duplicitous for him to not have something hidden under his sleeve, tainted by his guise of promiscuity. “I know you think about it too.”

 “Yours are better,” you tell him, urging him to continue, “Hearing you talk about it means seeing how you look at me when you speak.” 

 David pauses, taking another swig and meeting your eyes, “I want to unzip that dress as slowly as I can; so slowly that you just beg me to get it off you. Self-control is the one thing I have that you never will. I can’t share that with you.” 

 “And I see that little crucifix of yours always staring right at me, meaning more to you than me, and for a split second, I feel a little guilty. You do your time and your due diligence; you go to church every Sunday, pray every day and night, all of that. But then…,” he trails as he looks away, shaking his glass and listening to the ice slide around.

 “I think about you afterwards,” he meets your eyes again, “Messy. You asked for it but didn't know what it would entail, or when you feel bad that you enjoyed how I made you feel. Better yet, when you’re kneeling at the side of the bed on your bruised knees — evidence from me — praying for absolution and salvation.”

 “...But?” you ask quietly, clinging to his every word.

 “But…” David continues, taking another casual sip and speaking slowly, “It’s too late. The damage is done. I get to see you do that, and I get the satisfaction of knowing that I just ruined your life.” 

 “I’ve always said that I want you to, though,” you quip, “And you’ve always said that you want to. If that's the answer to keeping me…” you roll your eyes at the word you’re about to say, blush coming to your cheeks, “dirty, then do it. I’m a big girl; I can handle it. I dare you.”

 “I would jump your bones right now if I could,” David swears shamelessly, “Think about all of the hoops we’ll have to jump through. The food, the check, getting to the hotel, booking the room…”

 “We don't need to eat,” you offer, “Let’s finish our drinks, pay, and leave.” 

 “I should've known that you’d be impatient,” he says, “You’re going to be drunk off your ass if you keep going, sweetheart. I don't like the ethics of where this is going. I’m still fine.”

 “Then you have another drink,” you give him a solution, “Or however many it’ll take for you to get like me and keep talking to me. I’ll cut you off when your words are slurring.”

 “Your words are slurring, baby,” he shakes his head, sliding the orange slice off the cocktail pick and dropping it into the liquor. David removes the Maraschino cherry and passes it to you, staring as your teeth tug it from the stem.

 He makes a soft noise at the sight, and bites at his lips when you slip the stem past your lips, speaking, “Don’t tell me you know how to do that shit.” 

 Seconds pass and David continues staring as he finishes his drink, eyes trained on your mouth before the knot emerges and you drop it on his cocktail napkin. He exhales and drops his voice, “I will bend you over this table right now.” 

 He motions for the waiter, “Change of plans – no food for us. Water and a lemon drop for her, and I’ll switch to a Manhattan.”

 “You know, every cocktail is twenty bucks,” you say, watching him play with the band of his watch, “The wine was-”

 “Don’t count the tab, sweet girl,” David shakes his head, refocusing his attention on to you, “I don't even look anymore. Neither should you. Price doesn't matter.”

 The drinks come moments later, and he continues, “I’m cutting you off after this. You’re drunk.”

 "Keep talking,” you giggle, eyes on his, “Your voice is sexy, and I like hearing what you want to do to me.” 

 "You don't know what you're in for,” David says casually, dunking the cherry into the liquor before passing the cocktail pick to you, listening to the delicate noise of your teeth scraping the metal while you take it into your mouth. “I might make you walk to the hotel just so I can see that sway of your hips. I love that dress you're wearing; the bow on the back makes you look like my little present. What else will Santa bring me this December?”

 “You’re so cocky,” you comment offhandedly, “Not everything is for you.”

 “You and I both know that’s not true. Quit lying,” he shakes his head again, laughing slightly, “Don’t tell me you don’t think about it every day.”

 You feel yourself flush as you drink more, still attempting to decide if it’s from the alcohol or his words before he speaks again, slutty drawl, “Look at you! I haven’t seen you this red since we first met. Cute ass.”

 “What can I say,” you shrug, embarrassed, “You’re sexy.”

 David leans forward interestedly, forearms resting on the table, “Am I?” 

 You nod sheepishly before he continues, eyes on yours, “Your napkin is on your lap?” 

 You nod again, now confused, but David clarifies his motive, ordering in a low voice, “Slip your hand up your dress, under your napkin, and tell me how wet you are.”

 “Make your next drink a double and it’s a deal,” you offer, thighs pressing together as you already obey him, playing off your rebellion.

 “Don’t bargain with me,” he shakes his head, eyebrows scrunching together, “Do as I say, or the only place we’ll be going tonight is back home.”

 He watches your face deliberately as you listen to his demand, eyeing the way you take your lips between your teeth, “Stop touching yourself, you whore. We’re in public.” 

 You stop, embarrassed, and he continues after finishing his third drink, “I made reservations here just for you to cancel the food, beg for sex and touch yourself under the table. Why do I try to take you anywhere nice?”

 David’s drinks are hitting him, now, and before you can reply to him, he’s motioning for the waiter again, “The check and another Manhattan for me. Can someone get us a cab? I think it’s obvious we’re in no shape to drive.” 

 “Yes, sir,” he says, looking between you, “Where are you headed?”

 “Waldorf Astoria,” David replies, “Thank you so much.”

 David finishes his drink once it's on the table, fingers reaching for the check. He doesn't flinch at the steep price and tips well, nearly fifty percent, and puts three hundred-dollar bills on the table after removing his money clip from his pocket. 

 The cab is dirty, as they all are, and David instantly tugs you into his lap, groaning softly, “You smell so good.” 

 You giggle slightly and attempt to undo the top button of his dress shirt, fiddling with it until it's undone and untying his bow tie. His palms reach around and squeeze at your ass through your dress as you plant kisses down his chest, marking your man until the lipstick prints run clear. 

 He kisses you, now, tongue sliding against yours and making a drunken noise of satisfaction, “You want this?”

 You nod against him, his hands gripping your waist and you kiss David again, “Yes. I dare you.” 

 “Be careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he pushes your hair from out of your face as you drown in skyscrapers, tugging you closer by your chin, “We’re getting a suite, and I’m fucking you on every surface possible. Don’t say no.”

 ++

 Too much liquor in David’s system turns him into an even bolder character, and you’re both drunk as you lean against the receptionist counter at the Waldorf Astoria, attempting to book a suite. 

 The all-too-patient receptionist tells him a price — more than you would ever pay for a hotel room — and David reaches into his pocket for his money clip. He quickly counts it out and she shakes her head, but you’re already too disinterested and don’t bother paying attention. Five minutes later, he’s lacing your fingers together and tugging you through the lobby, impatiently pressing the elevator button numerous times. 

 “Jeez,” you comment, eyeing the lipstick print peeking out of his rebuttoned dress shirt, “Someone’s antsy.”

 “You’re a fucking tease,” David excuses, pulling you inside and hitting the button for your floor, “My dick’s been hard since the restaurant. It’s all I can think about.” 

 He kisses you until the elevator pings, still tasting of liquor and the cigarette he smoked in the courtyard, “I love you.”

 You repeat it as he leads you by your waist to the room, watching the sway of your hips and the little bow flounce with every step you take. David doesn't know how this took him so long.

 He quickly slides the key in and out of the reader, opening the door for you and allowing you to walk in. David instantly shuts the door and presses you up against it, wrapping your legs around his torso as he kisses at your neck sloppily. Your fingers from both hands find the length of his bow tie, tugging his head up and attaching your mouths. You move to hastily unfasten the buttons of his shirt, untucking the garment from his pants. David blindly shrugs off his jacket and his shirt, carelessly dropping the items to the floor as you kick off your heels. 

 You feel his fingers tug slightly at the zipper of your dress before stopping himself, relocating his hands to your ass and pushing you forward into him. You both make a noise at the friction into each other's mouths, giggling slightly and urging David to quickly turn you around, bending you over against the door and pressing your face against it. 

 “Should I take these off or are you matching? Don't wanna miss that,” he slides his touch upwards and hooks his fingertips into the sides of your underwear, leaning over and cross necklace dangling. 

 “I’m matching,” you reply before he murmurs an incoherent response, pushing your dress up and sliding your underwear to the side in place of tugging them off. 

 “Mmm,” David mumbles at the sight, spreading you slightly before slowly putting his mouth on you. His hands hold your thighs apart as he drunkenly works, eyes closed. 

 “Are you gonna fuck me right here?” you ask him, words slurred as he stops his movements, standing and spinning you back around.

 “D’you want me to?” David replies, hands resting delicately on your waist as he presses gentle kisses back down your neck with a different kind of sensual candor.

 “Fuck yes,” you nod, eyes closed, “But get this dress the fuck off of me.” 

 “I told you so,” David responds cockily, reaching up near the nape of your neck and slowly tugging at the zipper, “Did I not?”

 “You did,” you nod again, feeling the air slowly hit your back as he undoes it as deliberately as possible. You take it upon yourself to reach down and begin unbuckling his belt, undoing the top button and unzipping him. 

 He doesn't stop you, hitting the bottom of your zipper as you tug his dick out and spit in your hand, beginning to work him over. David makes a noise and pushes the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, forcing you to momentarily stand. It pools at your feet before he’s propping you against the door again, arms wrapped around your torso.

“We’re drunk,” he comments, kissing you sloppily, “What’re you so tense for? Relax.”

[gemstoneconstellations]

Pretty Pretty Princess

Summary: Kaminari’s daughter wants to play dress up, so he becomes a princess for the evening.

Wordcount: 1808

“Mommy, can we play dress up?” You wave a tired hand at your daughter, who was following you around the room. You could feel her tugging onto your dress as you laid out paper plates and plastic silverware.

   Today was a special day; it was the baby shower for the unborn twins inside your belly. Lucky for you, they have been calm so you can get things done, but now your six year old is demanding your attention. “Miuko, I can’t. I’m setting up the party for your siblings. Today we get to find out if the babies are boys or girls.”

   Miuko puffed out her chubby cheeks, pulling on her dirty blonde pigtails. “But I wanna play princess tea party!” Her hair started to become staticy and her strands started to stand on end as she crossed her arms, pouting on the couch.

 “Heheh, now she looks like her dad when she does that. She’s so cute all the time, you forget her dad is Denki.” Kyouka came into the room, holding the cake for the party. Momo followed close behind her with balloons. Oh thank god, the other adults are here to help.

   You sigh happily as the girls came over to you and gave you side hugs. “Hey, Kyouka, that’s rude!” Speak of the devil, your husband pouted as he walked over to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly as he showered your face in loving kisses. “Hello my beautiful, darling, glowing, light-of-my-life wife. How are you feeling? How are the little lightning bugs?” His hands wandered down to your belly; the twins seemed to sense their father, as they shifted inside you...

   “We are good, don’t worry. Just worried about getting the party together in time for everyone to get here…” You looked back down at your daughter and then motioned your husband closer to whisper in his ear. “I think Miu is feeling a bit left out. She’s been begging to play princess all morning.”

   Denki looked down at his pouting little girl and then winked at you. “Oh man honey, I don’t think I can help with decorating. I’m really bad at it! I guess I have to keep myself out of the way. Hey Miu, do you know what daddy could do while we wait for the party?”

   Miuko gasped, jumping up and down on the couch. “Princess tea party!”

   Denki let out a dramatic gasp as he grabbed his daughter's hand. You giggled at his ‘excitement’ as you mindlessly rubbed your belly. “Princess tea party?! That sounds like sooooooo much fun! Let’s play in your room!” The two of them skipped down the hall; your daughter’s bubbly voice could be heard all the way to her room.

   “Man… that was cute.”

   “Makes you want a child of our own, Kyouka?”

   “M-M-Momo!”

   ~

   The party was still being set up when the guys showed up. Sero, Kirishima, and a Bakugo being dragged via headlock by Kirishima. Which meant they were sent to see where Denki was since they couldn’t be trusted to help or keep fingers away from snacks. “Holy shit! Pwahahahahahah! What the heck Kaminari?!” Both Sero and Kirishima fell to the floor, laughing at the sight before them.

   Denki had bows, clips, and glitter in his hair with random braids everywhere, as well as messy sparkly pink eyeshadow that didn’t stop at his eyelids and Barbie pink lipstick. Denki was sitting at his daughter’s play table, squeezing his large body onto one of the mini child chairs.e.

   “Is that an effing tutu, dunce face?” Bakugo, who was filtering his words in front of Miuko, pointed to the frill around Denki’s waist.

   “Yes, yes it is. And my name is Princess Dazzling Unicorn Sparkle.” Denki stated his new title proudly, taking a pretend sip from a very small plastic pink teacup, pinky out and everything. He is not ashamed that he plays with his daughter or that he lets her use him as a dress-up doll.

   Miu hopped to her feet, dressed in one of her princess costumes from Halloween. She ran over to the men that were more than triple her size. “Uncle Ei! Uncle Hanta! Uncle Suki! Are you here to play too?!” She grabbed Kirishima’s and Sero’s hands, pulling them and forcing them to sit at the table as well. It was amusing to see someone as big and bulky as Red Riot sitting in a chair that was smaller than one of his calves.

   “Uuuhhhhh…” The men looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Miu was looking at them with big puppy dog eyes; there was no way they could fight it. They both gave reluctant nods, but were rewarded with one of the brightest smiles they'd ever seen on Kaminari’s daughter’s face.

   “Eff that. I’d rather help with the dumb baby shower.” Bakugo tried to turn away, but small hands glued him to where he stood.

   “Pleeeaaasssse Uncle Suki? It won’t be as fun without you. I wanna play with you too.” Bakugo flinched at the tears starting to flow out of her eyes. Small sparks of electricity buzzed around her. If there is one thing Bakugo learned over the years from being around the small Kaminari child is to avoid any possible tantrum, at all costs. There is no way someone who didn’t have an electric quirk would survive. The moment he let go of the doorknob, she knew she’d won. “Yay, you are going to be Princess Butterfly Glitter Bomb!”

   ~

   You sighed from your spot on the couch; all the energy you’d had before had been sucked away when the twins decided to switch spots inside your stomach. “Alright, everything is set up. We just have to lay out the snacks and wait for everyone to show up. I’ll get the boys and the princess to come out and join us.”

   Walking down the hall, you could hear your daughter telling the story of how her prince in shining armor came to rescue her. “That’s stupid. Why would you wait for some dude to save you? You can do it yourself.” Ah, that was Bakugo talking.

   “But I want to be saved! My prince will give me a kiss!” Slowly, you opened the door; the first thing you see is your daughter being pampered by two pairs of hands. One was skillfully putting winged eyeliner on her, while the other was delicately placing flowers inside her French braided golden hair. Your eyes widened as you opened the door more; you immediately placed a hand over your mouth to hold back a snort.

   “You can fight some dragon on your own with your quirk, why wait for some dumb prince?” Bakugo, who was applying makeup to your daughter, had a butterfly clip holding back his bangs, a large amount of bright sparkly pink eyeshadow and neon pink lipstick. The makeup must of have been from her princess makeover kit that Denki had bought her for her birthday.

   “Katsuki, you are missing the point. She wants to be swept off her feet. To be romanced. You did that for me, bro.” Kirishima, the manliest and largest man of the Bakusquad, had many different assortments of colorful sparkly costume bracelets hooped around his spikes, flowers drawn in what you assume is the same red lipstick that was currently on his lips on his cheeks, and is that… your eyelashes from your Halloween costume last year?

   To the side of him was Sero, who was holding his hands out to Kirishima. “Shut up and focus on Soy Sauce’s nails. Anyways, you don’t need to be saved to be smooched, especially not from some random prince.” Sero was frowning down at his nails as Kiri continued to paint. The tape hero didn’t look much different to the redhead; his hair was in numerous ponytails that were being held up by beaded hair ties and bow; he had been given the purple lipstick.

   Your daughter held up the toy that she was clutching to herself right into Bakugo’s face, interrupting his work on her eyes. “It won’t be a random prince! Ingenium will save me!”

   “Glasses? Really?” Bakugo grabbed her face again, finishing the last bit of her eyeliner wings.

   Kaminari placed the final flower in his daughter’s hair. He was the most put together out of the rest; most likely he’d put his makeup on while your daughter did the rest of the guys. “She could do worse than our old class president. As long as she’s happy and he treats her right, I’m happy.”

   “All done.” Kirishima cheered as he closed the bottle of nail polish.

   Sero held up his hands to look at Kirishima’s work with an exasperated look; he was obviously not enjoying this as much as the others. “This is going to be hell to take off… why sparkles… I can’t imagine having a daughter who makes you dress up like this…”

   Kirishima leaned onto an open palm perched on his knees. “I don’t know bro, I feel kind of pretty.”

   With a straight face, Bakugo looked up at the redhead without any hesitation and said, “You are always pretty. Homo intended.”

   “Awww bro.”

   Now that no one was holding Miuko’s attention, she looked over to see you and excitedly stood up pointing to her face. “Mommy! Look! We princesses!”

   You giggle as she ran around the room, presenting each man and describing what she did to them with glee. “I see. Will your highnesses please join us in the living room; the party should be starting soon.”

   Sero sighed with relief as they all got to their feet. “After we get this makeup off…”

   That was the wrong thing to say. Miuko stomped her feet standing between Sero and Kirishima. “No! Princesses can’t be seen without their makeup! What if your prince comes? You have to look battle ready! Let’s go Princess Shiny Rainbow Bubbles and Princess Strawberry Sunshine Sugar.” She took Sero and Kiri’s hands and you watched as your six-year-old pulled the full-grown pro hero men out of the room.

   Kiri reached out and grabbed Bakugo’s hand, pulling him along as well with a cheeky smile. “Lucky me, I already found my prince…er, princess.”

   “Shut up, you sap.” Bakugo rolled his eyes as he let himself get dragged along.

   You were giggling to yourself as you could hear people gasping in surprise, soon followed by loud laughter. Denki came up beside you, offering his arm for you to take and escort you. You couldn’t help but chuckle and make a comment on his appearance. “You look beautiful, honey.”

   Denki flipped his hair dramatically with his free arm as the two of you walked. “I know, right?” You are sure the children in your stomach did somersaults due to your muscles flexing from how hard you laughed that day.

[awesomenightfall]

[’til death]

Haven’t written in 5ever and this is my first time writing Furuba ficlet! Rated PG, Ritsu/Mitsuru, Ayame/Mine, some mentioned others. Unbeta’d. 1,887 words.

With Ayame’s wedding looming, Mitsuru thinks, not for the first time, that they should definitely elope.

---

The invitation to the Sohma/Kuramae wedding was so big, so bedazzled and lace filled, that it had to be hand delivered to Mitsuru’s doorstep because it was too enormous to fit into the mailbox.

It was more box shaped than a standard paper invitation, Mitsuru observed, and knowing the ostentatious nature of her boyfriend’s relative, she wouldn’t have been surprised if live doves flew into her face when she opened it.

This was even fancier, if possible, than Ayame's baby announcement from the prior year. The pink lace monstrosity had taken a lot of people by surprise, but Ritsu sobbed hysterical happy tears for “Ayame-’niisan” and knitted no less than 12 pairs of baby socks for his new little cousin.

The older Sohma relatives were apparently not as impressed with the gaudy announcement or the out-of-wedlock baby girl that Ayame had brought into the world. The whole thing had been "Terribly scandalous," Ritsu's mom told her in a stage whisper, clutching her metaphorical pearls, "a baby before marriage and with his employee, no less… his mother almost had a nervous breakdown."

Her first thought: Wow. Rich people sure do things differently.

Her second thought: Am I going to have to see The Spawn of Satan - Shigure-sensei - at this wedding?

Ritsu, the sensitive, romantic soul that he was, was already blinking back tears by the time she pulled the velvet invitation out.

“I’m so happy for Ayame-’niisan and Mine-san. They’re such a kind, wonderful couple,” Ritsu sniffled, pausing from his knitting. He was curled up on her worn brown couch underneath an old blanket, hands working diligently at the tiny mittens he was knitting for one of his relatives' upcoming babies. They were adorable, of course, with a kitten motif in soft orange. “And it will be so good to see Hatori-’niisan and Shigure-’niisan again!”

Mitsuru shivered violently at the mention of her old boss. It was a Pavlovian response at this point and no amount of therapy in the world would help her work through it. Her worst fears were confirmed: she was definitely going to have to see Shigure-sensei and she was definitely going to have to be on her best behavior in front of Ritsu’s parents and relatives.

Ritsu lifted the blanket, looking concerned. “Mitsuru-san, are you cold? You should come under here before you get sick.”

She smiled to herself as she slid next to him. In the five years they had been dating, Ritsu had come a long way in terms of shyness and self confidence. He still asked if it was okay to kiss her and he blushed from neck to navel at the thought of anything beyond an innocent smooch, but they had gotten past the “apologize hysterically for holding her hand too long” stage and that in itself was a miracle. 

“You’re so cold,” Ritsu said softly, setting the knitting needles down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He tucked her into the blanket next to him and took her hands in his, rubbing them for warmth. “Maybe we should plan a trip to my mother’s hot spring resort sometime soon, they’re the best in the winter. And she would love to see you, she’s always asking for you.”

Mitsuru rested her head on his slender shoulder and took this opportunity to stealthily stare at him. He was so cute, she thought. Beautiful, even with his cropped hair and more masculine clothing. And he was so darn sweet, always worried about her, worried if she was working too hard, if she had enough to eat, if her new clients were treating her right. 

She had always thought she would die alone in her house surrounded by Shigure’s unfinished manuscripts with only cats to keep her company; Mitsuru never thought she could be so happy.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, catching her gaze with his own. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Do you not want to see my family? You -- you don’t have to, I mean. I don’t want to pressure you. Are you too warm? Do you want me to--?”

She put her fingers to his lips, shushing him. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

Her words had their intended effect and Ritsu nearly shot off the couch in embarrassment. “N-no no no no, Mitsuru-san! I’m the one that’s lucky to have you!” he babbled, face red. “I’m not --”

Mitsuru cut him off with a gentle kiss; the most effective way, she learned over the years, to stop his self deprecating apologies. “Ritsu,” she said with a smile. “I love you.”

Immediately his eyes glistened, even though he had heard this from her hundreds of times before. It never failed to make him emotional and it was infectious -- Mitsuru could feel her throat tighten at the look of gratitude on his face. “Thank you,” Ritsu said quietly, hugging her to him tightly. “I love you, too. And I’ll work so hard to make you happy.”

They sat in silence for a long while, enjoying the company and warmth.

“Weddings are nice, aren’t they?” Ritsu asked, somewhat hesitantly, not quite looking at her. “Being married must be wonderful.”

Mitsuru wondered if he was feeling her out on the subject. She knew he was getting some pressure from his family on proposing and while it was amusing, she didn’t want him to stress too badly. There was only so much knitting and yoga he could do to stave off a freakout. “I think so, too.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course,” she said, snuggling closer. “To be with the person you love every day -- is there anything better?”

He let out a quiet, “Oh,” but said nothing further, only kissing the top of her head absently, looking deep in thought.

As the comfortable silence returned and she drifted off, a thought so horrifying nearly jolted her from Ritsu’s embrace:

If Ritsu and I get married, does that mean I’ll be related to Shigure-sensei?

The things people do for love, she thought with a heavy sigh, and let herself succumb to sleep.

---

The Sohma clan in its entirety was overwhelming, to say the least. The grounds of the complex were decked out with an explosion of flowers, beautiful against the autumn backsplash. There were gazebos and arches and tables upon tables of food, alcohol, and desserts that spanned as far as the eye could see.

Mitsuru recognized a lot of Ritsu’s relatives -- mostly the ones that had once lived at Shigure’s house -- so she didn’t feel entirely out of place. Shigure had yet to make an appearance because of course he would be fashionably late, even to his best friend’s wedding.

“Mitsuru-san, you look beautiful,” Ritsu said at her side. “I love your dress.”

“Oh? Thank you.” She didn’t even bother to hide how pleased she was that Ritsu thought so. The black, long sleeved cocktail dress has been a safe choice and not nearly as lovely as the kimonos Ritsu once donned, so it was nice to know it made an impression. “Is your suit warm enough? It’s a bit chilly out.”

He squeezed her hand. “Oh no, I’m fine. If you get cold, I brought an extra shawl in the car.”

How was it possible, Mitsuru thought as they walked towards familiar faces, that this angel shared DNA with Shigure?

Ayame’s brother, Yuki, looked resplendent in a dark gray suit but, well, the pinched look of stress sort of ruined the ambience.

“Bets on if you think Aya-’nii is going to wear a wedding dress?” another Sohma relative, the one with black and white hair, asked.

“He would look so good in one!” a blond, perky Sohma replied. He paused from digging into a huge plate of desserts. “Do you think they’re wearing matching dresses?”

Yuki looked pained. “Please, don’t even breathe life into those words. My mother is already having an aneurysm at the whole situation.” 

The redheaded one -- Kyou, Mitsuru remembered -- handed Yuki a very full glass of champagne. Yuki took it gratefully and immediately started imbibing. “Kind of serves her right, don’t you think?” Kyou asked with a snort. “She bitched and moaned about him not being married before. Well, wish granted.”

A very pregnant Tohru beamed up at Yuki. Her hand cradled her round belly, a modest gold ring twinkling on her slender finger. “I think it’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see what Ayame-san and Mine-san wear!”

“Are you okay?” Kyou asked her, a protective hand on the small of her back. “Are you tired? Do you want to go sit down?”

Yuki rolled his eyes good naturedly, turning to Mitsuru and Ritsu. At least something was distracting him from his existential dread. “He’s only gotten worse since the pregnancy. I’m surprised this idiot hasn’t implanted a GPS chip into her neck so he can keep track of everything Tohru is doing at all times. It’s borderline obsessive.”

Yuki’s girlfriend - Machi? - gave him an even look. “As if you’re one to talk. Who is the one browsing baby websites at 2am and reading all the reviews to make sure Honda-san only has the safest baby toys?”

“Thank you, Yuki!” Tohru trilled over Kyou’s protests. “You’re so kind.”

Before Yuki could retort, the lights dimmed. A literal orchestra started playing as Mine -- wearing a breathtaking lace and crystal ball gown with a hoop skirt that would put Victorian novels to shame -- slowly walked down the aisle. Mitsuru could hear Ritsu sniffling and she immediately handed him some tissues from her purse.

Before anyone could inquire where Ayame was, the music stopped. The spotlights zoomed in on one of the temporary partitions that separated the food area from the reception area. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Yuki muttered. “‘Niisan kept mentioning a ‘surprise’.”

Hatori, arguably the one sane person at this event, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Just remember… this will be over soon and we can all go back to ignoring him.”

The partitions slowly opened to reveal Ayame -- not wearing a dress, to his credit, but a white tunic and pants outfit that looked like it belonged to an Arabian king-- in a lavish, horse drawn carriage, baby tucked in one arm, being pulled down the aisle. He waved benevolently to his subjects with his free hand and then blew a kiss to Yuki and then to his future wife.

“Please repress my memories of this night, Hatori,” Yuki said miserably. “It’s the least you can do for making me come.”

“Yuki, your mom fainted,” Hatsuharu said helpfully.

“Holy. Shit,” Kyou said.

Yuki grabbed an entire bottle of champagne from the nearby waiter. “I formally renounce the Sohma name and am now an orphan.”

Ritsu wiped at his eyes, passing a tissue to an emotional Tohru. “What a beautiful wedding. I can’t wait to see what they have planned next!”

“I hate this family,” Yuki said and honestly? 

Mitsuru couldn’t blame him.

---

“Ritsu,” Mitsuru said a few hours later, once they were back in the safe haven of her house, “let’s elope.”

Ritsu dropped all of the plates he was washing with a loud crash, hands pressed to his burning cheeks. His voice went up at least three octaves. “Elope--? As in-- marriage?? Mitsuru-san???”

Elopement would be perfect, she thought happily. 

The further away... the better.

[bts5sosempire]

BTS Reaction: kissing their s/o neck

A/n: this is a request from @mellowbiscuitllamaflower 😊. Sorry that this takes so long. But idk if I live up to your expectations.

Plus innocent gifs for these not so innocent reaction too.

Good luck lmao.

Kim Seokjin:

Jin had arrived home a little later than expected, the whole house smells like food as different kinds of aromas waft into the air. He saw you through the doorless kitchen and you were quickly shoving things aside here and there to make space for your food.

You were so busy that you didn't notice Jin nor see him sneak up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kiss your neck.

“That tickles,” you giggle, and Jin continues his action.

“There was a little sauce there,” Jin made an excuse and he continues to attack the spot. “I miss you so much.”

“You miss me, but I don't want to burn food at the moment.” You whine a little as Jin didn't stop, “Okay needy puppy I have food to watch.”

“That can wait.”

You turn around with Jin latching onto you, and he extends a long arm to shut off all the stoves and carry you by the waist with his arms away to the bedroom.

Needless to say, Jin had made your priority him.

Min Yoongi:

You and Yoongi had spent the whole day cooped up in the house and watching old marathons shows. It was once in a Blue Moon where Yoongi was very needy. He gets very handsy with you.

He had rearranged himself and settle you nicely onto his lap. His little breath hits your neck before you felt his lips ghosting across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Yoongi what are you doing?” You ask him with a slight shiver of anticipation.

“Shhhh,” he would silence you. Those doll lips of his keeps pressing warmly against you and you can't help it but try to turn around. Yoongi would warn you before it ends up getting heated.

He ended up marking your whole neck, as you try to maintain so much composure while focusing on the screen tv and Yoongi is making it hard not to. Biting your lips harder than before you ended up getting kind of aroused and is about to lose your mind if he continues on.

Jung Hoseok:

Another day ended successfully for you and Hoseok as the both of you walk to your shared apartment. Hoseok had picked you up from work as soon as he finished. His hand latches onto yours and he warmly gripped them in his bigger palm.

You and Hoseok were sharing some inside jokes before stopping at a red light.

He gets behind you and wrapped both arms around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder. Hoseok gently rocks you side to side before telling you something funny that happens at his workplace and you let out a laugh.

“Did that really happened?” Looking out the corner of your eyes, you see him smile broadly before he starts to attack your neck and pepper them with little kisses. With another laugh, you turn your face away from him and he continues.

“Yes, it did happen, the Maknae line manage to scare Jin and Jin wasn't happy,” Hoseok told you before letting you go and cross the street with you still giggling and he was in the same mood as you are. When you both finish crossing he went back kissing your neck again.

Kim Namjoon:

You were teaching Namjoon how to make proper clay pottery and so far he is getting the hang of it. Today was only Namjoon's day off, so you're not going to let it go to waste.

“Use your palm to create the shape of the base.” With careful instruction, you brought his hand to the clay and told him to move his hand slowly up to make the figure taller. “You're getting better than I thought.”

The little compliment made Namjoon smile as his dimples appeared on his cheeks. You walk off to your table and brought a colored paint brush that was coated in paint before decorating the pottery.

With little glances here and there from each other, Namjoon stands up and walk over to you. “How do you expand from the inside?” He then saw your clay that was decorated with yellow peonies and a hummingbird, he was in awe, “That's really pretty.” He rests his chin on your shoulder before telling you that you smell like clay and lavender.

Namjoon wrapped one arm around your waist and nuzzle his nose into the crooked of your neck deeper. He starts planting kisses there are you squirm a bit before dropping your paintbrush on the table. “Namjoon.” He only hums at you, “You're tickling me.”

Park Jimin:

You were so intensely focused on the crane machine that you whine out and look sadly at your teddy best that had fallen off the hook.

“Jimin, one more time.” You show a finger at him to let you play one more time as he huffs out silently and give you another dollar. With a happy excitement, you took it from his hand willingly and insert it to the machine and play it again.

Jimin had been standing and waiting next to you, for the next 10 minutes— watching and seeing you end up letting a miserable cry. “(Name)…” He whines out before latching onto you. He tries to get your attention as you shoo him away. “Look at me too like you look at those bears.” He starts kissing your neck as he nuzzles his nose into the crooked of your neck.

You roll your neck away and squirm from his lips. “Jimin, stop it.” Jimin hoists you by the waist as you stubbornly hold onto the machine crane controller before letting go as he successfully pulls you away. He carries you out like a child and kisses your neck endlessly on the way out with no shame.

You failed to fight him as you just let him do whatever he wants. But you didn't go down completely without telling him something. “You're buying me some bears that I failed to get Jimin.” He hums.

Kim Taehyung:

You were playfully playing with Taehyung as he keeps making his arms like a hoop for you to go under and popped out to kiss his lips like a jumping puppy.

With a laugh, you boop his nose with yours on accident and he tilted his head back with a laugh also. He pretends to fall on the ground with a dramatic cry of death. Taehyung looks up at you, who was scrunching up your face at him before making a pout.

Taehyung a raise a hand up from the ground for you to take. Hoisting him to a sitting position, you kneel down in front of him, who brush your fallen hair strands behind your ears. His hands went to cup your face before puffing your cheeks. “You're so cute.” He tells you with a box smile.

Taehyung brought you into a hug before taking you down onto the ground with him, as he wraps his own legs around your own. “Taehyung, you needy child you had your fun already.” You whine into his hair.

“I had my fun, but you're fun to have fun with (Name).” His lips start to aggressively attack your neck and you end up letting out a yelp while trying to get free from your boyfriend who is now leveling up his play. Taehyung heard you trying to stifle your laughs as you failed too. With full-blown laughter from you, he rolls you under him and continued.

Jeon Jungkook:

“A dare is a dare Jungkook,” telling him, you felt him close to your neck as you shut your eyes tight from his invading lips. With a smooch to your neck, you open your eyes and run away from the group of boys who laughs at you into the hallway. Jungkook was rather embarrassed as his ears were turning red like the color of the flame.

“Ya Jungkook look at you,” Hoseok said with a loud laugh as he had one covering his mouth, “it was just a dare and you are already shy as a flower.”

Jungkook also flees the room making everyone dying from laughter more than usual. He went after you who was in his room. He locked the door and turn around to saw your hunch form on the other side of the bed. You were covering your face. “That was embarrassing.” Peeking through your hands, Jungkook approaches you.

“No one knows that we're dating anyway,” he nonchalantly tells you as his embarrassment starts to fade away. He carries and tosses you on the bed. Jungkook climbs on the bed with you underneath him as he pries your hands away from your face. He interlaces his hands with yours before sliding them on the bed sheet then up above your head. He stops there, “Why don't we try it again?”

You gave him a dumbfounded look, to which a side smirk from him appeared. He lowered his body down. He uses his nose to lift your chin up before his warm lips start to kiss your neck gently. Your breath hitched up and you gripped his hands tightly. This is going to be a long night if you don't make a sound.

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Minho; Handsome Minho; PG

Hey whats up its me, and by me its my friend zoe who is posting this for me everyone say hi zoe gymnastics au where its cute and gay and key is there

Someone else very tall, and very buff, and very handsome. Jonghyun almost trips over his own two feet looking at them and then immediately diverts his course to walk himself right over there. Wow. Suddenly he doesn’t know why he was so hesitant to come here.

Jonghyun grimaces, just a little bit, when he follows Kibum into his gymnastics gym. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea when Kibum suggested it and he’s still not sure if he likes it now. He’s used to doing his gymnastics through casual cheerleading; jumps and flips and spins and being able to have fun, to smile and dance and do some improv and not have to take things so seriously. He’s sure that there are plenty of gymnasts out there that go for that style as well, but the ones in here seem to be…not that sort.

They all look like serious competitive types, from the people stretching that greet Kibum as he heads to the lockers to the people practising vaults over to the side and even the small group of kids swinging on the bars in the back. Jonghyun rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, trying not to draw attention to himself as he walks over to the lockers as well. He just wants to lift some weights, do some flips, maybe have a nice float in the foam pit, and chill. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to do that with all of these focused, intent gymnasts around trying to get actual practise done.

But Kibum brought him here. Kibum listened to him whine about missing cheerleading since he quit his squad years ago and invited him along to get a nostalgia workout in out of the goodness of his heart. Jonghyun can at least try to have some fun for his friend. He leans up on the metal next to Kibum as he fiddles with his lock and lightly kicks his leg to get his attention.

“Thanks for bringing me with you,” he says. Kibum smiles back and tosses his jacket inside.

“No problem,” he signs once his hands are free. “You can just go do whatever,” he adds. He waves a hand blandly over the whole gym. “I’m gonna catch up with my friends first.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Jonghyun says, nodding. Nice. He hates being introduced and he loves being able to just go do stuff on his own. He pulls his bag off of his shoulder and stuffs it into Kibum’s locker, then wiggles out of his loose t-shirt so he’s just wearing the black tank top underneath. As he leans closer to Kibum to put that in the locker as well, he also pecks the tiniest, cutiest kiss to his cheek just to make him roll his eyes.

“Later,” he smiles, and jogs out into the gym. He feels like he should just take a walkaround first, just to get to know where everything is so he isn't wandering around like a lost asshole later. He stretches his arms lazily as he circles the gym. Vaults, balance beams, hoops, floor, weights, blah blah blah. He’s glancing over the kids on the bars in the corner to register that in his mind as well when he spots something that makes him forget everything else.

Or, rather, someone else. Someone else very tall, and very buff, and very handsome. Jonghyun almost trips over his own two feet looking at them and then immediately diverts his course to walk himself right over there. Wow. Suddenly he doesn’t know why he was so hesitant to come here.

The closer he gets the more handsome they get; by the time Jonghyun reaches the bars he’s already blushing a little bit and biting a smile and all he’s seen is their side profile. It’s a real nice profile. Their eyes are big enough to write songs about, and their upper lip is a tiny bit bigger than their lower and should be adorable to kiss, and their jawline is sharp and square like it would fit perfectly in Jonghyun’s hands, and--

“Gosh, fu—frick,” Jonghyun whispers, censoring himself around the kids just in time before he puts his face in his hands in an effort to not blush too much before he even says hi. He’s so weak for tall cute babes. He carefully scoots himself around the group of kids sitting and standing around waiting for someone to finish trying a trick and shuffles right up next to the tall handsome babe that he’s already fallen for.

They’re very intent on watching the kid on the bars do a simple set of swings and twists. The other two adults standing around are focused too, one on another kid on another set of bars and the other on talking to the rest of the kids. Jonghyun assumes that that one is the coach and that tall handsome babe is maybe an assistant coach or an invested parent or something. He watches one of the kids do a nicely practised dismount, waits for the babe to praise them and give them a high five, and then scoots a tiny bit closer before the next kid comes up and makes his move.

“Hey,” he says casually, leaning just enough forward to let them see him without having to really turn. He smiles wide and charming when they glance at him with those lovely brown eyes. “I’m Jonghyun,” he says, “I’m kinda new around here. Kibum brought me.” He doesn’t know if this tall babe knows his friend, but from his experience, Kibum knows every babe everywhere and it’s safe to assume.

“Oh, hi,” they reply with a little polite smile of their own. “I’m Minho. Uh—should I know a Kibum?” they ask, and damn, Jonghyun thinks. Bad start. Babe Minho also focuses on a new kid that stands in front of the bars and dusts chalk on their hands instead of him, but Jonghyun really can’t hold that one against them. He ruffles one hand casually through his hair so Minho can see from the corner of their eye.

“Mmm, maybe,” he says. Maybe he’ll get lucky and Minho just doesn’t know Kibum by name. “Rainbow hair, real flirty, Deaf,” he lists, signing “big gay baby” with lazy hands as an extra descriptor just to make himself smile. Minho keeps their eyes focused on the kid swinging to get momentum, but they also gasp softly and nod, pointing knowingly at Jonghyun with one finger.

“Eyebrow scar,” they say, lifting their finger now to tap their own right brow. Jonghyun smiles and nods.

“That’s the one,” he confirms. He’ll have to tell Kibum that his scar is how Minho knows him later. He’s finally gained confidence with it; the news will make him feel fuzzy and warm. “I used to be on a cheerleading squad and I told him I missed doing gymnastics so he brought me here so I can get a workout in,” he says. He tries to say something else, something flirty, but he wasn't prepared to be assailed by a hot babe so suddenly and in front of so many kids and nothing appropriate or witty enough comes to mind, so he just closes his mouth and purses his lips and rocks himself backward and forward on his toes.

“Neat,” babe Minho says absently. Jonghyun scrunches up his face, stomping his foot the tiniest amount he can to not be noticed in his frustration. This is going so bad. He’s never going to smooch babe Minho at this rate. “Is cheerleading really that similar?” Minho asks. 

“Oh!” Jonghyun says loudly. Too loudly, probably, because a couple of the kids glanced over at him, but he doesn't care and just latches on to the fact that Minho is furthering the conversation on their own. “Kind of,” he says. “It's like if you only did floor and there was a lot more teamwork and chanting involved.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Minho says. Their voice is dismissive, but their cute lips hold a smile, so Jonghyun isn't to put off by it. What he is put off by is how extremely dedicated and a focused babe Minho is on the kid going through their routine on the bars. Maybe he should come back later when they're not working and are more open to be flirted with. He rubs his hand over his undercut, stimming awkwardly with the short little hairs for a moment, before he decides to try at least one more time for now.

“So,” he starts. “What is it exactly that you do around—”

He doesn't finish because at that moment, the kid on the bars fumbles and babe Minho rockets forward on to the mat. The kid slips and falls and before they even come within a couple feet of actually hitting the mat, Minho catches them in their arms and scoops them up safely before setting them down gently on their feet. Jonghyun gets a little winded just from how fast all of that was. Oh.

Minho smiles encouragingly at the kid, fixes the collar of their leotard, and says some small words of comfort before ushering them off to talk to their coach. When they straighten up a second later, they turn to Jonghyun with a lazy smile.

“I spot,” they say. Jonghyun nods vaguely. They sure do. Now that it's over and he's had some time to process the little event, Jonghyun finds his brain replaying the exact way Minho’s arm muscles tensed and flexed as they caught that kid. That was. Real nice. Real attractive. He shakes his head quickly to clear it and then lifts one hand up to tap gently, playfully, on his own cheek.

“Do you spot for, like, just these kids,” he asks, “or can I look forward to falling into your arms sometime soon too?” Minho laughs and, for the first time, turns to look at him fully, glancing him up and down. 

“Well,” he says. “Practice ends in half an hour, but if you were still around I might stay late for once.” Jonghyun’s own smile brightens until he knows it's taking up his whole face. Bringing him here was the best idea Kibum has ever had.

[namjoonchronicles]

Sorry - [BTS] Husband!Yoongi Au

[A/N] Remember I told you I wrote fics where the boys are not artists, but just regular human with a job? Well in this fic, Yoongi is a music producer (like he mentioned he’d be, if he wasn’t in BTS)

Dropping your bag on the couch only to continue your journey down the hall of your house, you heard absolute silence the moment you stepped in.

The clock shows 11:56PM.

From the folded delivery box, by the trash can, you could safely conclude that Yoongi had dinner. Without you. Again. You wondered if he is coping okay..

It’s a night shift hell week for you this week. The white coat you left folded on the couch’s arm stained with a bit of blood. You should have had it washed in the hospital and left behind there, but you were so lazy to walk back up to where the staff’s laundries are, so you brought it home with you.

He is probably working on his music right now. He had a door lock by the studio he owned in this house, not to be disturbed whenever he is in them. But he gave you the code awhile ago, so you never really had to use the intercom.

However, it seemed rude to just barge in his private space, no? Especially, after what happened when you leave for work early this morning.

Taking a deep breath in, you clenched your eyes shut and exhaled while pressing the bell. The door buzzed open immediately. “You reached home safely?” He muttered lazily, not even turning away from his screen. The only thing that is lighting up this room in the light from the computers screens.

You nodded, tiptoeing in, shyly. Guilty as you are.

He switches all the lights on from the main control he had on his desk but still hasn’t turn around to see your face. So you leaned your back, sitting on his desk, your thigh next to his wrist, while he persistently work on a track. You hooked your fingers around the hoop of his headphone and tug it down till it rests on the base of his neck.

And only then he gaze up to you. A Kumamon plushie on his lap.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” You make an apologetic face and pouted. “What are you even sorry about.” Yoongi scoffed, a low chuckle chimed in, as if to lightened the topic. “I said some damned things... I let my lips get loose and I hurt you with my words.” You pouted harder and Yoongi smiled, then averted his eyes away, still smiling. He brushed the length of his index finger underneath his little nose, the crinkle of his eyes on full display.

“I said that you don’t have the same work load as I do since I work in a hospital, and how you would never understand how tiring night shifts can be, and gosh, I was so wrong...” you clearly felt distraughted at work.

Yoongi took your wrist and have Kumamon removed and replaced by you. “I am just a horrible person.” You sniffed. And he chuckled while tucking your hair behind your ear, “you hate me...” you said when you look at him. “I don’t hate you, what are you even talking about... hey, everybody gets tired.” Yoongi cooed, and brushed his lips on your knuckle, while his other rubs your back.

“I shouted at you when I lose my white coat...” you raise your voice a little more, and started to cry. Yoongi pulls you into an embrace, hushing and then decided against it, “Fine, cry. Cry out. Let it all out. I’m here.” Yoongi rubbed the back of your head. He let you curl in his lap as he worked.

You were crying for an hour at least.

Your forehead pressed on his nape and your cries had subside. Watching him work was so therapeutic. He didn’t have to listen to the beat to construct a track? Amazing.

“Better?” He leaves his mouse and his hand flew to rubbed against your skull, tenderly. “What if I resign?” You squeaked against his jaw. His hands stopped moving.

There was something about the gesture that made you think that he didn’t like your idea. You stayed silent to let him explain why he thinks so. His simple defense was the real reason why you love him. He knows you so much.. Better than you knew yourself. And he had the audacity to tell you what’s the real deal. No one would have told you that so complacently.

“When you’re at the hospital, you’re home.” He said and resumed working. And it was true.

No matter how strenous the work could be, you will find yourself wanting to get there despite the challenges you may face. The work fucks you up in all ways you could imagine, but when you step out of the hospital, and go home, all you could think of is, how you would do the fuckery all over again.

Your hope is to help others, save people from themselves. And along the way, lack of sleep, internal turbulence, emotional wreck—hardships, tails.

Yoongi made it clear to you that your home is the hospital.

And no matter how difficult it gets, you would always come back to it. You have it in your DNA.

“See, in life, we are faced with challenges we could overcome. And toughest battles are made for God’s strongest soldiers, right?” He plants a loud smooch on your cheek. Then he puts on his headphone to review the track he made while you were crying.

“Want to listen to what I’ve been working on with Namjoon?” He asked and you nodded eagerly. He wrote the rap line to this song. And the chorus was chiming your deepest thoughts.

Where there’s hope, There will be hardships.

How true it was. And in Yoongi’s arm, you found the missing piece of you; his love.

[A/N] Hands up to whom realised the lyrics to “Sea” was in here. That song is mean cuz it makes me cry, but I would like to thank Namjoon for understanding my struggles without being by my side and putting it in the album, ILY NamNam. 

[lexical-elasticity]

MASTURBATION

Tonight, he is at it again. 

He sits behind his desk, surfing the internet and inevitably bumping into a photo of a girl in a thong. The photo perfectly demonstrates the neat curves of her olive skin ass. The girl is also - for some uncanny reason - standing in the kitchen, making dinner. The caption reads: 

SHE SQUATS, BRO. 

Already he feels blood rushing down from his heart to his crotch. He opens an incognito tab and in his mind briefly thanks the person who introduced this digital phenomenon. After all, incognito prevents his wifey from ascertaining the knowledge that he commits the crime of watching porn. And a crime it is. Especially since he promised her - what with their feeble sex life - he would stop touching himself. Secretly however he finds it ridiculous to fight against an urge mother nature herself has put him up with. And so - every night when the wifey goes to bed - he sneaks into his study, pulls down his pants and commences doing what he isn’t supposed to be doing: Jerking off. The website has loaded. He clicks on the ‘PORN STARS’ button. Would it be Peggy Goo this time? Or Missus Kisses? The decision isn’t a hard one to make: Missus Kisses not only possesses the most luscious ass in the industry, she also has a heart-shaped face with green pearls bathing in the pools that are her eyes. This isn’t a girl one merely wants to fuck. This is a girl one wants to snuggle and cuddle and smooch and laugh and talk and watch a movie and share an ice cream with (and then fuck with also). He clicks on the video that says “MISSUS KISSES REWARDED WITH BIG DICK.” He knows the title to be somewhat unethical and yet he cannot help it – it is his sheer desire to witness a proper banging that makes him do it, makes him keep doing it. Lust isn’t inherent to reason, he reasons and therefore it is not his fault. Because when human beings touch their own peepee or cunt or have sex, they are not acting the way they are supposed to be acting, they are simply acting the way they are. In the meantime, Miss Kisses showcases her famous hula hoop skills. As if mesmerized by a hypnotist, he watches her hips go round and round. Soon, the male - with his dumb looking face - makes his entrance. But dumb as his face might look, he is the one who is about to fuck her with a hard-on that looks like it’s about to explode out of its own skin. He fast-forwards the video to the habitual blowjob and watches Miss Kisses sweep her tongue across the male’s peepee. My peepee, he tells himself in his head. He looks on as the male clasps the back of her head and forces her to do a deep-throat. Before long, Missus Kisses’s make-up is fossilized all over her cheeks. He fast-forwards the video once more. This time, to his favorite position: doggystyle.

The male doesn’t take it slow: oh no, he goes for it, all right, tongue sticking out of his dumb face and all, as Miss Kisses’s perfect ass bounces and raps and taps and claps against his pelvis. It’s somewhat of a brutal sight to behold but she seems to like it. Does she, though? The thought infiltrates his mind like a gunshot in an empty street. At this exact moment, Missus Kisses looks straight into the camera. And the expression on her face is too elusive to be left unconsidered. It looks as though she’s trying to tell him something. But, if so, what? Is she saying that she likes being treated like this? Or is she telling him that she’s feeling as miserable as she looks and that he should stop jerking off? Is there a part inside of her that loathes him because he himself is contributing to her humiliation?  Or is she perhaps saying that— “You lying piece of shit!” His heart makes a giant fucking leap to his throat. He turns around in his chair. She stands at the door, nostrils flaring. She picks up one of his heavy Norton Anthologies and throws it at his face. He evades it. She grabs another one of his Norton Anthologies and throws it at his dick. Ball’s eye. He screams in agony. Drops to his knees. “Honey,” he whimpers, “I can explain.” She comes up to him. And for a fleeting moment, it looks like she is about to kiss him. Does she wanna have sex? “Go fuck yourself.” she whispers. “Go fuck yourself, you miserable little cunt.” As she dashes out, he tries to follow her, pants down, dick aching, still insisting he could explain, not knowing that… He’ll never put his peepee inside of her again.

[viraljournalist]

Ten NBA things I like and don't like, including the Luka Doncic-Dwight Powell dance

New Post has been published on https://viraljournalist.com/ten-nba-things-i-like-and-dont-like-including-the-luka-doncic-dwight-powell-dance/

Ten NBA things I like and don't like, including the Luka Doncic-Dwight Powell dance

How about a fresh serving of 10 NBA things:

1. The tricks of Ja Morant

Morant’s athleticism and fearlessness strike you first. He is so fast. He wants to dunk on everyone — to humiliate victims, the bigger the better.

All that is cool. But what is most impressive about Morant — the runaway Rookie of the Year — is his veteran craft. He already knows how to start and stop with a live dribble, and keep defenses guessing until the best option reveals itself. He sees every pass. He imagines passes no one else sees, and conjures them with dribble moves designed to shift the defense in some specific way.

You just don’t see rookies doing stuff like this:

That fake spin — the Smitty — dusts damn near the entire LA Clippers team. The one-handed lefty gather into a reverse layup is borderline pornographic. That insta-gather is already a Morant trademark — useful in tight spaces.

He has a mean pass fake:

He busts it out on the perimeter to freeze help defenders:

A lot of ball handlers turn statuesque when someone else takes the controls. Not Morant. He weaponizes his speed as an off-ball cutter.

Morant isn’t the only reason the Memphis Grizzlies — 13-6 since early December — have improbably surged into the Western Conference’s No. 8 spot. Their three core big men — Jonas Valanciunas, Jaren Jackson Jr. and Brandon Clarke — are balling, and their bizarro bench is obliterating opponents.

But Morant is driving it. He is real. He is a superstar in the making playing winning basketball. He belongs at the edges of the All-Star conversation right now.

2. Drivin’ De’Aaron Fox

After two months of injuries and uneven play, Fox is back on his ascent toward becoming the Sacramento Kings’ franchise point guard. In seven January games, Fox is averaging 24 points and 8.5 assists on 50% shooting. He is driving more often, with more guile and ferocity.

Fox is earning seven free throws per 36 minutes — easily a career high. He is piling up almost 29 drives per 100 possessions, second among rotation players — and up from 15 and 18 in his prior two seasons, per Second Spectrum data. He has drawn fouls on 13% of those drives, 16th highest among 173 guys who have recorded at least 100 drives.

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Fox is still searching for the right pass-or-score balance, and the Kings under Luke Walton haven’t landed on a coherent identity. (Injuries to Fox and Marvin Bagley III have stalled progress there.) They are playing at one of the league’s slowest paces, though they amp it up some with Fox on the floor.

The next step for Fox is dialing in on defense, where he has disappointed this season. The Kings won’t go anywhere too serious until the Fox/Buddy Hield backcourt proves it can survive on that end.

3. Forfeiting mismatches

A pet peeve:

This isn’t about the Orlando Magic. Every team does this now and then: Spot a juicy mismatch, and default into a pick-and-roll that allows the defense to switch that mismatch away.

The Utah Jazz are stuck with Emmanuel Mudiay on Aaron Gordon. If you want to post Gordon up, do it when he can mash a smaller dude. Instead, D.J. Augustin and Gordon gift the Jazz a switch.

Come on. Disengage autopilot and read the game. The right kind of post-up can still be an effective scoring option. They also are fun to watch. The league needs stylistic diversity.

You know who rarely bungles this? The Indiana Pacers with Domantas Sabonis. Their old-school mentality serves them well when they earn a switch, or when the opposing power forward is stuck defending Sabonis. The Pacers in those scenarios are ruthless. They are surgical. They abort whatever plan they had and hunt that mismatch.

4. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, off the glass

The notorious S.G.A. is already one of the league’s shiftiest ball handlers — a long-limbed, change-of-pace phantom who seems to move at two or three different speeds at once. Guarding him is like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands.

He also is a premier bank shot artist, smooching from unconventional angles:

That is a little close to the baseline for most players to go glass. Gilgeous-Alexander has the touch to pull it off. That one hits pretty low on the backboard, but Gilgeous-Alexander will kiss the ball off the tippy-top if need be.

The straight-on banker is underused — a tricky work of depth perception that can increase your margin for error on harried floaters. Gilgeous-Alexander has it in his bag:

Only 10 players have attempted more glassers than Gilgeous-Alexander, per Second Spectrum. (Russell Westbrook has tried by far the most — almost double the No. 2 guy.) Coming off a ridiculous 20-20-10 game, Gilgeous-Alexander has a fringe All-Star case: 20 points, six rebounds and three assists per game, decent shooting, solid defense.

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It is a hard case to parse. Each member of Oklahoma City’s three-headed point guard monster has sacrificed something. Gilgeous-Alexander has stepped back into a secondary ballhandling role behind Chris Paul (probably a better All-Star candidate) and Dennis Schroder (in the running for Sixth Man of the Year). Gilgeous-Alexander has logged only 40 minutes as solo floor general — without either Schroder or Paul.

I recently debated with a few non-Thunder executives whether Gilgeous-Alexander would grow into an All-NBA player. That they framed the question in those terms — and not around whether Gilgeous-Alexander will make All-Star teams — is indicative of how good he has been.

5. Still waiting on Aaron Gordon

Boy, did Gordon need this recent mini-hot streak: 60 points on 23-of-39 shooting over Orlando’s last three outings, and a last-second game-winner Monday in Sacramento. It has otherwise been a stilted, disappointing season for Gordon.

I thought this was the year it might finally happen for him. I predicted Gordon would make the All-Star Game.

Instead, Gordon’s production on offense has dipped across the board, though he remains engaged on the other end. There are three theoretical Gordons: the player Gordon wants to be; the player Orlando wants him to be; and the player Orlando needs him to be because of their roster construction. The actual Gordon is paralyzed in some sort of existential tension between all three.

The first player — Gordon’s dream for himself — is a ball-dominant scorer. Orlando indulges that Gordon by calling occasional post-ups for him and giving him some freedom to go rogue. Gordon can make hay against smaller players. He has done well on scripted duck-ins. But too many of his forays into would-be stardom end with bricked fadeaways:

A player this powerful should not spend so much time spinning away from the hoop. He rarely draws fouls. The Magic have scored 0.826 points per possession anytime Gordon shoots out of a post-up or passes to a teammate who fires right away — 74th among 96 players who have recorded at least 25 post-ups, per Second Spectrum data. He is not much of an inside-out playmaker. A full 77% of those post-ups have ended with Gordon shooting — the second highest such rate in that sample.

The best version of Gordon on a good team is something like his take on Draymond Green: screening and rolling as a power forward, spraying passes (Gordon is an underrated playmaker), defending like all hell across every position. The Magic have never put Gordon in optimal position to find that role. They shoehorned him onto the wing next to Serge Ibaka and now Jonathan Isaac.

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That is not on its face unworkable. Some of those ultra-big Magic lineups have performed well — including last season. Talented frontcourt partners render positional designations irrelevant. What position would Gordon play next to, say, Kevin Durant and a traditional center in Brooklyn? Isaac has some blossoming all-around skill on offense.

But Isaac also is very young. Before Isaac’s injury, it felt — from the outside — Orlando was reaching the point at which it would have to make a final call on Gordon. There are teams who would give a lot for Gordon. Isaac’s knee injury may have put off those decisions. The Magic don’t have to rush. Gordon is still just 24.

But stasis often becomes untenable.

6. The Bucks, going under

Almost every team scurries under picks against bad shooters, but Milwaukee does it more dramatically and against many more players. The Bucks treat every so-so shooter like Ben Simmons. Present Milwaukee with Kris Dunn or RJ Barrett (two recent examples) and its on-ball defenders hang almost in the paint — a step or two further back than most teams prefer. They form a shell that is really hard to puncture.

They don’t deviate if some Dunn type hits a couple of long 2s. The Bucks understand math. They know their scheme plays mind games with opposing shooters — even non-terrible ones. They’re going so far under. This is embarrassing. Am I really supposed to keep shooting? Boom — the shot clock is down to 8, and you’ve accomplished nothing.

This is such low-hanging fruit. Every team should imitate Mike Budenholzer’s exaggerated “go under” ethos.

Of course, later playoff rounds offer very few awful shooters — and almost none beyond Simmons who handle the ball. It would be interesting to see Milwaukee’s approach in a series against the Miami Heat and Jimmy Butler — shooting just 27% from deep this season and 36% for his career on long 2s.

7. When young guys forget who is guarding them, Part I

Oh, Jordan Poole.

That’s Kawhi Leonard. At his apex, the mere act of possessing the ball within a 15-foot radius of Leonard was dangerous for anyone outside the league’s most deft point guards. Forget dribbling. Poor saps held the ball close to their chest — terror sweat pouring from their brow, eyes darting in search of some passing target — until Leonard would simply reach out and take it. It was cruel. It was bullying.

Leonard isn’t the same impenetrable wall today, and he saves his best stuff for high-leverage playoff moments. But you can’t be Jordan freaking Poole and dangle the ball in front of him. This is like living next door to Thomas Crown, buying a masterwork, and leaving your front door wide open all night. What do you think is going to happen?

There has been much fretting of late about the Clippers’ underwhelming performances against the dregs of the league. Meh. One of Leonard and Paul George has missed most of those games. Wake me up when the real Clippers struggle.

The Clippers also seem like a mortal lock to make a win-now trade. They have use-it-or-kinda-lose-it assets ticking toward evaporation. They can trade their 2020 first-round pick, but that is the last one they can move (as things stand now) before their 2028 selection. They have Maurice Harkless’ $11 million expiring contract, and a few semi-expendable midsized salaries.

The Clippers would rather add talent (via in-season free agency) without trading anything. Harkless is solid — a starter most of the season. That 2020 pick represents one of LA’s only means of acquiring a young player who might help Leonard and George as they age.

But the Clippers are all-in. George and Leonard can hit free agency in 18 months. They should prioritize this year over everything.

Part II of young guys failing to respect their elders is coming next week.

8. Respect the Mavs’ other big men

I never got the mostly quashed rumblings Dallas might be interested in Andre Drummond. Kristaps Porzingis should eventually play more as the Mavs’ lone big man, and in the meantime, Maxi Kleber and Dwight Powell are doing just fine alongside him.

Skeptics in the preseason perceived the Mavs roster as top heavy: two stars and a motley crew of bench guys. It’s true (it’s damn true!) Dallas does not have anyone like a third member of past championship Big 3s. But they do have (by my count) seven guys you might describe as quality fifth starters — seven fifth-best players, all but one (Tim Hardaway Jr.) on value contracts. There is power in giving zero minutes to below-average players.

Powell has always been a dangerous rim-runner, but he has exploded as Luka Doncic’s go-to pick-and-roll dance partner. Only three player pairs have teamed up on that play more often. (For trivia purposes, the top three in volume: Spencer Dinwiddie/Jarrett Allen, Damian Lillard/Hassan Whiteside, and the Lou Williams/Montrezl Harrell symphony.)

The Mavs average a ginormous 1.18 points per possession anytime Doncic or Powell shoots out of the pick-and-roll, or passes to a teammate who launches — ninth-best among 226 duos who have run at least 100 such plays, per Second Spectrum.

Powell has improved as a passer on the move — crucial when teams trap Doncic:

Kleber does a little of everything. He’s a serviceable screen-and-dive guy. He is hitting 41% from deep on a career-high attempt rate, and he makes canny plays off the bounce when defenses rush at him:

Kleber is a sturdy, smart defender across multiple positions. Rick Carlisle has trusted him to guard extra-large ball-handlers, including LeBron, Giannis Antetokounmpo, and Simmons. He’s a solid rim protector with some hops.

Dallas is starting Kleber and Powell in the absence of Porzingis, and the Mavs have outscored opponents by 13 points per 100 possessions with both on the floor.

Kleber and Powell earn $18 million combined this season — $9 million less than Drummond. Drummond holds a much-discussed player option for 2020-21. Kleber and Powell are under contract through 2023. Leaving aside money and whatever assets Detroit might demand, it’s unclear whether giving Kleber/Powell minutes to Drummond would even make Dallas any better.

9. Miami is one player away, but who?

This is a minor quibble considering the Heat are 28-12 and a robust 10-6 against teams at .500 or better. Maybe the “one player” is Justise Winslow, who is still out with a back injury after returning for a single game last week.

Winslow is (in theory) the well-rounded small-ball power forward to unlock lineups featuring Bam Adebayo at center. Meyers Leonard is shooting 45% from deep as Miami’s nominal starting center, but there are lots of games in which he never sees the floor after his first stint in each half. Kelly Olynyk is barely playing.

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Right now, Derrick Jones Jr. and James Johnson are holding down that Winslow slot. Johnson looks feisty after a long stint in Heat purgatory. He’s 10-of-20 on 3s. But his jumper is unreliable, and he is regaining the team’s trust.

Jones has taken the lion’s share of these minutes over the last month. His arms are everywhere. He is the keystone of Miami’s zone defense. Lineups with Jones and Adebayo at power forward and center have done well.

But are you trusting Jones to close playoff games? He’s shooting 23% from deep. Defenses ignore him on the perimeter to muck up Miami’s spacing.

Miami has tried to solve the equation at times by going super-small, with Jimmy Butler at power forward. That is a little too small. Adebayo is so strong and athletic, you forget he’s only 6-9. Miami has been a middle-of-the-pack defensive team after a stingy start. They have to be careful.

They are one player away from being really dangerous. They know. They are looking, sources say. A lot of speculation about the Heat — and other teams — has centered around Jrue Holiday. He’s good. The Pelicans may opt to keep him and push for the No. 8 seed. (This is what suitors expect as of now — which could of course change.)

But I wonder if Miami has a more pressing need for a stretch power forward with some defensive chops to fill that Winslow/Jones/Johnson slot. (Winslow returning to form could render this moot.) Danilo Gallinari would be a worthy rental, but the Thunder might be too good to trade him. It’s also unclear whether Miami has any appetite for surrendering any players who are or could be (i.e., Winslow) key parts of their current rotation.

Regardless, keep an eye on Miami.

10. Marcus Smart is coming at you

What in the hell is this?

I’ve seen defenders close out low to distract shooters, but they usually resemble football tacklers. They aim for the stomach. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone crouch toward the shooter’s foot. Smart looks like he’s trying to pick something up off the floor.

I honestly don’t know how anyone shoots 3s against Boston without worrying what kind of goofy closeout awaits. Jaylen Brown jumps straight up and down with all his might, and reaches both arms as high as he can — a technique Al Horford mastered, and something the Celtics teach. Brace for that, and Smart comes nipping at your ankles.

What’s next? Jayson Tatum running at shooters, screaming gibberish and waving his arms? Kemba Walker experimenting with some kind of drop-and-roll technique?

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[solomonfiore]

The Beast

"People talk sometimes of a bestial cruelty, but that's a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel."

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I became so accustomed to people that I began to feel as if I were one of them. Whether or not there was ever anything human about me is debatable. It goes without saying that I was no more than a beast according to my co-workers. The circus’ menagerie of exotic animals had all died off save for me, leading me to view myself as an important figure. Maybe that’s why I began to see myself as more than just an animal. I thought I was unique. Alas, I got cocky. I didn’t know my place and acted out of line. I brought about my own downfall. That’s what they tell themselves. That’s what they tell each other and members of the audience in those rare instances when my absence is brought up.

I kept to myself ever since I was a cub, but all of that changed when I fell in love with my boss. My paws muddied by the footprints of tourists on the trammeled ground, I was sauntering back to my tent when the trapeze swinger and first-in-command of the circus called out to me one dusky evening. She was getting high and drunk with the carnival workers around a bonfire. Empty pill bottles, broken crack stems, and used syringes were strewn about the site. Surveying the valley of the Arizona desert, the moon was an aquamarine cataract sewn into a sky defaced by fuchsia and ocher claw marks. The skulking vista of sandy bluffs enshrined the trapeze swinger’s resplendent aspect as she stood over the rusty canister of flames at the encampment. Having traded her diamond-studded leotard for a flannel shirt in the wake of that day’s show, her beauty was only further enhanced by the vivacious temperament of her garb, recalling autumnal mornings and the heartache of precocious lambs.

I waded through the swamp of clowns and freaks in her retinue to where she’d beckoned me, placing myself loyally at her feet as if praying before an altar of roman candles. I saw that she and her wacky entourage were playing a game of sorts. She pointed to an empty bottle of absinthe lying on its side on the ground between us. Its spout was pointed in the direction of Zorax the Strongman who was donned in a shaggy one-piece with his lips eagerly puckered in anticipation of a smooch from the sultry daredevil. With a pristine toe delicately wrapped in a black slipper, she altered the direction of the bottle, turning it to face me.

In a bundle that trickled through the spaces between her gentle fingers in luscious tendrils, she pulled her smooth locks of hazelnut hair over her forehead to gaze at me with diaphanous eyes more piercing than the stars of twilight. “Have you ever played Spin-the-Bottle, Kitty Kat?” she asked me, her mouth still moist from the 240 milliliter container of hydrocodone syrup she’d just downed in one swig. “Every once in a while I’ll give the old bottle a spin and offer to kiss whoever the lucky chap it happens to land on. It looks like your lucky night, Kitty Kat.”

Not just because she’d cheated him out of an intoxicating kiss, but as a gesture of honest concern for his superior, Zorax voiced his apprehensions. “Be reasonable, Miss Aida!” he protested. “Don’t you dare let those precious lips make contact with that atrocious beast. Do you know what parasites those dreadful creatures are known to carry? With all due respect, at least stick to the civilized members of your ranks. That abominable furball shouldn’t even be wandering the grounds freely. Its master Peg Leg Paul has become too lenient in his old age. There’s no telling what savagery you could incite if you rile up this animal’s passions with a kiss.”

Oppositional by default, the young lady took the bodybuilder’s admonitions as a cue to rebel regardless of whether or not they held any validity. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on my velveteen muzzle, leaving the imprint of an iris where her lips had made contact with my fur. Traceable by the finest sprinkles of glitter produced by the spectacle of that enchanting instant, the sweetest scent of lavender emanated from the salivary stamp on the crest of my nose. She eased away from where I faced her and the euphoria of this fleeting embrace bordered on unbearable to me. I gathered the courage to express my gratitude for this invigorated display of affection, but my vocal cords could only muster a growl.

She recoiled from me as if she had accidentally touched a maggot-infested carcass. “That beast growled at me!” she cried. “Take it away before I have it euthanized!”

Having emerged from his drunken stupor to find me missing from the stable, Peg Leg Paul had been conducting a search. He stumbled upon the scene at the encampment at an ideal time to intercede. Vicious beatings from his cane of thick, gnarled wood served as assurances to the crowd of entertainers and hired hands that I would be dealt with severely. When the blunt instrument broke into splinters over my skull, he removed the wooden appendage extending from the stub of his knee and bludgeoned me with that. My mangled hide of broken bones was escorted back to our tent with my master dutifully in tow, sparing no lenience when it came to extolling punishment via a battery of blows from his artificial limb.

But Peg Leg Paul’s unwavering discipline failed to curb my desire for the ravishing trapeze swinger from that night henceforth. I took to combing the bristles out of my fleece every morning and dyed my hair with henna to give it more flare; I practiced walking on my hind legs to appear more human; I studied the history of Tutankhamun and the Great Pharaohs with the sole intention of telling the object of my ardor about a time when my breed was worshipped. Most crucially, I did everything in my power to give a voice to the passel of thoughts running through my lovesick mind, but not so much as a ‘meow’ was issued from my frustrated maw whenever I attempted to speak.

Much to my master’s consternation, I no longer accommodated my training with the usual deference and patience. Jumping through fiery hoops and opening my fang-ensconced jaws for him was too commonplace for me. These tricks failed to challenge my intellect and keep me stimulated. Rudely indicating my boredom, I would yawn or smack my leathery lips during his long-winded tutorials. These absent-minded displays of ennui cost me dearly. Bedtime was greeted with every inch of my body throbbing with excruciating pain from my exasperated keeper’s wallops.

I frequently snuck into the main tent to watch Aida practicing her death-defying stunts. My heart would rev up to a rumbling flutter at the sight of her twirling around in whimsical circles high above my head in defiance of the laws of gravity. I would watch this angel in ebony tights fly through the air with baited breath, her body as nimble as the exoskeleton of a butterfly. Observing these aerial dervishes were glimpses of eternity itself. Throughout my day, I could think of nothing but the irrepressible joy I experienced every time I’d borne witness to one of her performances.

After a particularly enthralling show, I followed her into the tent where everyone was having lunch. To communicate my admiration for her, I sat by her side and attempted to lick the back of her hand. She withdrew from me with a flinch before my tongue could make contact with her smooth skin. Annoyed, she found her place at a separate table where she proceeded to rifle through her fan mail. Seized by a flush of humiliating despair in reaction to this cold and dismissive gesture, I summoned up all my will to express to her the dejection I’d just sustained. Flashing my razor sharp incisors inches away from her face, I let out a blood-curdling roar.

The opiate-addled mumblings and inbred drawls of her hungry employees bustling about the dining area were hushed as she stared at me with a mixture of indignation and terror. I immediately recognized the terrible error of my conduct. I bowed my head and lowered my eyes to her submissively, but it was too late to rectify the appalling offense.

“That is the last straw!” she hollered. She pointed at me and yelled to her bodyguards, “That creepy cat has been stalking me! Forget issuing a restraining order. I’m the judge and jury of this circus. Lock up that perverted puss and throw away the key!”

After a thorough flogging, I was confined to a cage and could no longer participate in the festivities. My master was so fed up with my unruly behavior that he wouldn’t even grant me the attention of a daily beating. My only friends were the birds that came to snack on the nests of fleas in my coat. I was treated like the most verminous genus of the mammalian order by staff and visitors alike. Spectators made fun of me. They threw beer cans and firecrackers into my cramped domicile. My health took a turn for the worst in captivity. Dr. Goreslime, a traveling quack and distributor of some of the finest sizzurp in the states, diagnosed me with mange, distemper, renal dysplasia, peritonitis, feline leukemia, and a congenital bone disorder hitherto unknown to the medical profession.

For such a cruel master, Peg Leg Paul must have been struck with an epiphany of sympathy. For he knew of the adoration I harbored for the lovely trapeze swinger while predicting the impending extinction of the last of his pets. Knowing me as soon to depart this cursed popsicle stand of human exploit, he implored the young woman to visit me. She agreed to his invitation after some cajoling.

Carefully stepping over the droppings and puddles of urine dotting the cement floor, she looked down upon my sad visage when she reached the corner of my cage where I lay dying. Their lids encrusted with marmalade beads of mucopurulent discharge, my giant emerald eyes had been sanded down to a dull olive hue; my once regal mane took on the rusty grain of a Jewish toupee; and my golden flanks were caked with milky diarrhea. A pinch of girlish sympathy roused her, and she let out a sigh. “You were roaring like you ruled the world the other day, Kitty Kat,” she kidded. “You no longer want to come out and play? What’s all this fuss about, silly?”

She ventured to wrap her arms around my colossal head and that delicious lavender scent from her flowery pores once again caressed my ruby nose. In a final exhalation, I summoned up the strength to speak to her. “I just wanted to talk to you,” I purred before the most merciful of all the ancient gods came to transport me from this mortal hell to where I would find eternal sanctuary - my heavenly den in the Egyptian azure.

Solomon Fiore – January 15, 2016

<photo: Aida Rodriguez of the Kitsune Klan>

Special thanks to Aida Rodriguez.

Solomon Fiore is the nom de plume of

Oliver Lodge, an author who lives in New York. He has been published in “Sirens’ Call Publications”, “Ravenwood Quarterly”, “Whorror House”, “Living Paranormal Magazine”, “Creepy Campfire Quarterly”, “Aaduna”, “ANON Magazine”, “Blood Puddles”, “Yellow Mama”, “Inner Sins”, “Gutter, Grimy, Scum”, “Body Parts Magazine”, “Blood Moon Rising Magazine” and a slew of other rags he’s too lazy to list. A selection of his works can be accessed here in addition to the following links:

https://solomonfioreauthor.wordpress.com

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100019080735694

Further inquiries: solomonfiore@yahoo.com.