#Fuzz Lee

[pedroam-bang]

Hot Fuzz (2007)

[harveylembecks]

when the song is so annoying frank hires a chorus to sing 1/3 of the song

[evilhorse]

Any more bright questions?

[peachyuus-arc]

"i think, deep in your heart, you've always known. haven't you?" to yunjin!

Why did it feel like an admission of defeat to say he was right? She knew his nature, sensed it from the beginning, and yet she stayed quiet. Her success was more important to her and the reputation of the Magnum Opus rested on his shoulders. Was it wrong to focus on her own safety? Would acknowledging it have even changed anything? Yunjin didn't think so. She didn't think anything she said or done would've changed him. So, she didn't bother trying. It was like babysitting a child, sacrifices and compromises were the only way to get through to them. Even if those sacrifices were human lives.

"Maybe." She admits with a nonchalant shrug. It's something that's been eating away at her since the first report. Since the first time she saw his eyes glimmer at a sharp blade. Since the first time she swore she could smell blood on him when he came into the studio. Yunjin knew he was a bad egg, but she wasn't a savior. "I like to think I'm quite perceptive to human behavior. But you definitely made it easy."

[love-that-we-were-in]

lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes. 

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.” 

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.” 

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see. 

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party. 

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly. 

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.” 

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.” 

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets. 

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.” 

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead. 

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick. 

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?” 

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table. 

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game. 

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win. 

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet. 

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?” 

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.” 

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond. 

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more. 

*

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this. 

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night. 

“Why aren’t you ready?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.” 

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?” 

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way. 

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around. 

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap. 

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more. 

“Fancy a rematch?” 

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?” 

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.” 

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.” 

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.” 

“How many beers have you had?” 

“Three, I think?” 

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you. 

So you say it anyway. 

“I bet I could outdrink you.” 

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition. 

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight. 

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?” 

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.” 

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.” 

“Are you going to?” 

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?” 

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.” 

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.” 

*

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head. 

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once. 

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch. 

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest. 

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building. 

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting. 

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again. 

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms. 

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.” 

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway. 

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?” 

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes. 

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.” 

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.” 

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.” 

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system. 

“You ever blown a smoke ring?” 

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now. 

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?” 

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes. 

“We can share.” 

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea. 

“You’re on, Castellan.” 

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular. 

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore. 

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you. 

“Can I help you?” It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close. 

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby. 

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen. 

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.” 

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

*

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.” 

“I know you hooked up with Luke.” 

“Seriously?” 

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.” 

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.” 

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.” 

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight. 

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy. 

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend. 

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight. 

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does. 

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?” 

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t. 

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it. 

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter. 

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

[sandwhitches]

✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a love story told through peaches

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, childhood best friends to lovers

✦ 𝐜𝐰: language, tiny bit of angst in places if you squint, kissing/making out, mutual pining, fem. reader (one mention of “girlfriend”), reader has a mother

✦ 𝐚/𝐧: inspired by the poem “From Blossoms” by Li-Young Lee (which is just a beautiful piece, do read it if you find the time!) randomly decided i wasn’t allowed to sleep until i finished this fuck ass thing so enjoy i guess. if it’s really bad i wouldn’t know i read over it once and hit post, so i humbly apologize if this is word vomit.

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 3.1k

It first happened in 2000, the fresh spoils of summer weighed down on skinny branches of the tree they had grown on, perfect for little hands to pluck. At the base of its trunk, you sat cross-legged, crunching into a perfectly ripe peach for the very first time that summer.

That day, as you remember it, was intended to be spent with a pout; after all, your mother had dropped you off for the day with your new neighbors to run errands, leaving you with two identical makeshift playmates you couldn’t say you were too fond of. 

Atsumu is the oldest twin, but he’s an inch shorter than his brother Osamu, which confuses you. Aren’t you supposed to be taller when you’re older? They’re both more interested in roughhousing than skipping rope or coloring, they bicker over small things, and they smell too much like the outdoors. From the first five minutes at the Miya household, you decided you were not going to enjoy it.

Osamu found you crouched in the living room, dejectedly pushing one of their toy cars back and forth with a finger, counting as high as you could under your breath (about five-hundred until you ran out of steam.) 

“Whatcha doin’?” That’s another thing that initially unsettled you about them, the way they spoke. Their words came out lazier, much more different than any other kid or adult you’d met before moving to the Kansai region. If I spoke like that, you thought, I would probably be corrected.

 “Nothing.” You’d mumbled, too shy to look up at him. That didn’t seem to deter Osamu one bit, because that’s how you found yourself beneath the peach tree in their backyard, licking the sticky juice that had bled down your arm upon the first bite.

You’re a bit intimidated by Osamu, who had somehow managed to eat two peaches in the duration it took you to eat one, but you still keenly listened as he told you about how his grandmother planted that tree a long time ago. 

Atsumu was on the other side of the yard scowling, Osamu said it was because he didn’t like the way peach fuzz felt on his tongue.

By 2006, you’ve realized there’s more than one way to eat a peach, your favorite method as of that summer was the peach pie that the Miyas’ mom would make if you asked her really nicely.

Atsumu had since gotten over his personal grudge against peaches and Osamu probably liked them more than he did before. Neither of them would even think about eating a slice if it did not come with a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream on the side. You’re stuffed full after two helpings of dessert, hunched over in discomfort at their kitchen counter. 

It’s no surprise that Osamu was shuffling his fourth slice of the night onto his plate, fueled by an appetite unfathomable to most people but him. “There’s not gonna be any left if ya keep piggin’ out,” Atsumu hissed, slapping a palm flat on the counter; he was also hardly able to move after a full meal and then some, but he always found enough energy within himself to insult his brother. 

Osamu, who turned out to be the quieter of the twins, didn’t have a verbal rebuttal, but took a resolute bite that perfectly asserted a good enough response to piss his brother off. 

Your mother usually called an hour or so after sunset if you were still with the Miya twins, and during the summer, you were always with them. It was Osamu who walked you next door most nights, your pathway lit by flickery street lamps that swarms of bugs buzzed around, save for the cicadas that chirruped their nightly song in the bushes.

He was still a bit disgruntled after Atsumu had reached over and pushed him, leading them headfirst into an angry brawl on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. 

“Such an idiot,” Osamu muttered angrily under his breath to fill the silence, hands twitching in the pockets of his pants. You don’t tell him this, and you don’t really know why this is, but you think that might be the first time you realized you had a slight preference towards him.

 After all, out of the two of them, Osamu was the only one who didn’t complain when you changed the channel to the weekly showing of your favorite cartoon (a “girl cartoon” as Atsumu had put it with irritation laced in his voice), he was the one that knocked on your door in the mornings and asked your mom if you were up yet, and no matter how many new friends he made, he’d sit with you at lunch. 

In the winter of 2008, you coped with the seasonally baron peach tree with the light pink package you tore open on the floor of Osamu’s room.

You were long done with your homework for the day, Atsumu was avoiding his, and Osamu was scrabbling away at his desk with a look of dull boredom. You popped a peach gummy into your mouth. Sometimes you’d forget that if you walked from school with them in your backpack, the winter air would toughen up the candy, and make it harder to chew; surprisingly, you found it tasted better that way. 

Atsumu’s back was pressed against the floor, hands outstretched as he tossed a slightly deflated volleyball a few inches, caught it in the basket of his ten fingers, then pushed it back into the air. You watched him as he got testier with his limits, letting the ball drop closer and closer to his face until his fingers couldn’t stretch fast enough, and the ball bounces off of his forehead. 

In order to deflect his embarrassment, he turned to you, raising a brow, “Those don’t even taste like peaches.” Atsumu commented superfluously, knowing himself that it was a pointless thing to say.

He’s not very popular with the boys on his volleyball team because he does things like that, and Osamu told you with a look of concern that he doesn’t even care. You think you agree with Osamu, Atsumu is certainly annoying, but he isn’t necessarily unlikeable. 

Atsumu is blessed to have a brother like Osamu, who is most likely incapable of ever growing to dislike him. Not many people have such a degree of patience for him, and you suppose that’s why they’re brothers. 

Without a retort from you, he returned his attention to tossing the ball once more. 

Your eyes were drawn to a hand that reached over the seat. Splotches of ink stained the side of Osamu’s palm because he always wrote with a heavy hand. You grinned wordlessly and placed three candies into the center of his cupped palm, knowing he was going to ask for more once those are gone. 

That’s okay, you think, because Osamu is the only person you know who does not ask for you to share because he’s greedy, he asks because he simply likes to share. There’s no ulterior motive or impatience in the way he holds his hand out once more, only an eagerness to enjoy something with you. That, for a reason you’d been avoiding to confront over the past year, made your heart flutter like a caged bird. 

In 2011, you find yourself back where you started, criss-crossed under the peach tree beside Osamu as you enjoy the first bloom of the summer. You bite into the peach’s dusty skin, uncaring that the sweet juice dripped down your chin and collected at the corners of your mouth. Osamu rolled a pit around his hand after meticulously sucking the flavor left from it, he pressed his fingers into it until it made indents on the skin. 

You paused, wiping your face with the back of your forearm, “Somethin’ on your mind?” It had been a very long time since their accent had bled into your own tongue, and you never noticed it anymore. Osamu glanced up, eyes clouded over with thought, “Do ya think I’m boring?” 

The question surprised you. You couldn’t remember a time Osamu voiced an insecurity, in fact, you were beginning to enviously think that he didn’t have any. Boring? You wondered what could have brought that about. How long had he felt that way?

Since starting high school, you’d noticed an influx of opportunities for the twins to be compared. As far as popularity went, Atsumu had surprisingly climbed up the ranks the first month. In volleyball, no matter how great Osamu’s spikes were, Atsumu’s sets were always better. At home, they’d taken to rapid firing every grade they’d received in the past week until it was clear who was performing best, and Atsumu frequently took the cake.

On top of this, Atsumu was now one inch taller than Osamu. 

It’s almost funny, you thought to yourself, they’re not that much different than when they were younger. They still roughhouse and bicker and they still can’t be angry at each other for longer than five hours.

Both of them still consistently pulled off stupid stunts, the most recent one being the cheap boxed dye they purchased with the hope of having a shot at being two different people for once. 

Finally, you replied, “I don’t think that at all.” And you wished you had said more. 

Osamu, you thought that night as you replayed the memory, I think you’re anything but that. You’re funny, and you always think about other people…and I think you’re one of the nicest people I know. You buried your face into the pillow, groaning. If you’d managed to at least say half of that, maybe he would have smiled instead of looking away, nodding in disappointment. 

Your mom was frowning to herself in 2014 as she folded up your high school uniform and packed it into a cardboard box to be forgotten with the other relics from your childhood. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you handed her your school shoes, “You might wanna throw ‘em out, the soles are about to lift anyways.” You know she won’t. She’s sentimental. 

Later on that evening, you told Osamu all about it on the lawn chairs in their backyard, swatting off a mosquito that buzzed in your ear. The two of you had just returned from a midnight run to the convenience store, indulging in salty chips that made your mouth go dry, but were impossible to stop eating. Such an issue was easy to remedy with the juice of a peach, even though the nectar wasn’t as sweet.

A few months before, during January, Hyōgo was hit with the iciest winter storm in a while, leading to the unfortunate demise of the peach tree in their backyard. Atsumu was more than positive that the old friend would make a comeback, but come springtime, it did not blossom and remained a thin skeleton of rigid sticks.

Now you had to buy a peach if you wanted one. 

The convenience store peach was slightly overripe, but you supposed that beggars can’t be choosers. 

Osamu listened intently, his face hardly discernible in the dark. You two hadn’t meant to be up so late, but you often lost track of time these days, you noticed that it goes by so fast now that you’re older. 

“I’m scared,” your voice was shaky, tears threatening to spill for the umpteenth time that day. You didn’t want to go to sleep, because you knew in the morning you’d have to leave. It would end for the very first time. You tried very hard not to think about the bags all packed up in your room, and with such empty walls it was beginning to feel like it wasn’t even yours anymore.

 “What if I don’t like it?”

Osamu sighed quietly, setting the peach he held down to place a comforting hand on your knee, “Yer gonna do just fine, ya know that?” He mumbled quietly, and if he wasn’t touching you, you might have been able to consider what he was saying to a deeper extent. It’s easier said than done when you’ve already come to terms with the fact that you’re madly in love with someone you’re sure you shouldn’t be. 

“I know, but…I don’t want it to change…I don’t like not seein’ you.” 

Though you couldn’t witness it in the inky cast of twilight, something changed in his face, and you wouldn’t have had a clue had his next words not come out as strained as they did, “We’ll see each other durin’ breaks.” Osamu whispered, almost as if it was a reassurance for nobody but him.

That’s not enough. You’d been with Osamu every day for nearly the entire duration of your life, how could it only be rendered down to a few precious weeks a year? You couldn’t take it. The tears finally flowed freely down your cheeks, muffled noises of anguish pushed against your bitten lip. 

“Hey,” Osamu muttered hurriedly, calloused hand moving to cup the side of your face, he thumbed at a stray tear. “Nothing’s gonna change while yer gone…okay? We’ll all-…I’ll still be the same. I promise.”

“How can I know that?” You sniffled between sobs, unabashedly leaning into his touch. 

With everything to lose, but nothing else he wanted, Osamu leaned forward and pressed his face against yours, his lips tenderly grazed against your own in a rushed kiss. Upon remembering himself, Osamu pulled away swiftly, exhaling in disappointment. 

“Shit, I’m really sorry, I don’t-”

You cut him off in a desperate search of his lips once more in the dark, kissing him like you’ve been starved your whole life, finally allowed a meal just this once.

Up close, he smelled like the linens his mother used to hang in the backyard, the ones you weaved in between during clumsy games of tag that always ended in skinned knees and grass stains. Osamu’s lips felt like the succulent meat of a peach, soft and warm; they tasted of its nectar, not of the convenience store peach, but of the sweeter ones that used to grow in that very backyard. Osamu’s kiss was everything you’ve grown to love and everything you’ve yearned for. 

You pulled apart after awkwardly knocking foreheads one too many times, giggling mindlessly at the state the two of you were in. The hand on your knee squeezed tighter, and Osamu rested his head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You wondered if you also smelled like the linens, like peach juice, if he could hear that your heartbeat sounded like the cicadas that sung to the two of you during your shared childhood summers. 

“When ya come back,” Osamu started quietly, “I promise I’ll still feel the same.”

It’s 2019 and you’re knackered, bored of watching the wooden posts that held up a barrier along the road go by, tired of the same playlist that’s been on loop all day, and yet you’re not even close to being sick of the man in the driver's seat. 

Osamu blinked at the road groggily, appearing to also be over the long haul through the mountains. 

“Remind me again why I moved?” He droned, readjusting his loose grip on the wheel as he took another turn that does not particularly help your developing carsickness. “Because you missed me?” You mused playfully, lolling your head to the side to watch his expression lighten up significantly. 

“I did, didn’t I?” 

It’d almost been a whole year since Osamu had gotten fed up with how little he got to see you, his girlfriend, and decided without hesitation that the perfect place for him to open up his restaurant would be in Osaka, only a few minutes away from your campus.

You’d since graduated, gotten an entry-level job with shitty hours and shittier pay, and found yourself a nice little apartment for the two of you to share. 

It would be your first summer returning to Hyōgo together.

Maybe it’s always been this way, though. You couldn’t remember a time in which you didn’t love Osamu, and similarly, you couldn’t remember a time where it didn’t feel like he loved you. It was always meant to happen this way. Things like kisses and passionate touch bloomed in time as the seasons turned, but the roots of his love had always been there since the beginning, digging deeper into you until it was your favorite way to live. 

You hummed in realization, bending over in your seat to grab something from the floor of the car, “Almost forgot about these.” 

Osamu peered back over at the sound of light rustling, eyes glinting with affection as you reached your hand into a brown paper bag, pulling out a peach. It was impossible for the two of you not to stop as you drove through one of the quaint small towns, a little boy sold the fruit from his family’s orchard beneath a hand painted wooden sign. 

You bought five peaches, each one large and solid in the palm of your hand, and you think you might have forgotten how much grocery store peaches pale in comparison to ones that were plucked from a tree that very morning.

 “When we get our own house-...” you started. A wry grin twisted on Osamu’s lips in response. 

The two of you liked to play this game, fantasizing about the distant future in which you’re able to settle down in the suburbs, far away from grumpy landlords and noisy upstairs neighbors.

You both had already lost track of half of the dreams you wished to fulfill, only able to barely recall the simple things like two dogs, a nicer oven, and dark green walls in the bedroom. 

Even though it’s a game, you hoped you didn’t forget this time. “Let’s plant a peach tree in the backyard.” 

Osamu laughed under his breath, but you can see a hint of nostalgic fondness bring warmth to his expression, “I dunno, yer gonna have to be in charge…I don’ really have a green thumb.” 

You’ve since taken a large bite of the peach, then passed it to him. Much to your amusement, Osamu only turned his face ever so slightly to eat it from your hand, eyes still carefully fixed on the road.

“I think I can do that,” you nodded, bringing the sweet fruit back to your lips again. If there’s one thing you end up doing in your make believe house, you hope it’s that. 

And there, in the comfortable silence of the car, you bask in an all too familiar feeling whilst enjoying your favorite thing to share: the fresh spoils of summer.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Daddied: based on true events

“Come on bro! Why are you being so weird?” Lee mocked standing in next to the bathtub with a bottle of alcohol. “I mean you got the perfect body and what not I think but I’m really just not into guys”. Lee laughed at Nathan. Lee knew that Nathan has a crush on him. People even claimed that they had a bromance going on with how much time spent together but after all the months of Lee casually flirting, Nathan finally made a move. Only for Lee to laugh in his place.

Nathan walked out of the bathroom while Lee could be heard laughing at him. Nathan was heart broken. The first man that he actually felt a connection to. The one he grew to love. Just laughing at him. Rubbing the tears from his eyes Nathan laid in his apartment. In bed bundled up trying to find the courage to face the world again. He couldn’t continue on with this “bromance” any longer after being lead on for so long. He could feel his chest hurting. His heart breaking while he sobbed. He played back memories he had with Lee. Fun nights of playing games. Even the night when Lee told him that he better get his ass to class and get his degree. Lee was actually the reason he graduated college because he wanted to make Lee proud. He was the only one that pushed him to do. He even reminisced on the nights they would drink together. The deep conversations they had. The more Nathan thought. The more he got angry. He wanted Lee to pay for wasting his time. For breaking his heart. He didn’t want to feel this pain again. There was one memory that Nathan was playing back in his mind. And suddenly he shot up in bed. A dark smile creeped across his face.

—————————————————————-

Lee woke up the next morning with a hangover. “Ohh god how much did I drink?” He moaned to himself. His phone was buzzing. It was the chick he was flirting with at the very last night. “We need to talk was all the txt said”. Why would be need to talk? She was just a random chick he was flirting with. Dismissing the txt he swaggered to the bathroom. In the mirror flexing his muscles. And giving himself that perfect smile that got him out of so much trouble. His phone began to ring. He answered it not thinking about it only to hear the screeching of some chick. After a bit he said “oh yeah I remember you …. Wait… what are you saying!? WHAT!!” He dropped the phone. Apparently one of his hookups from a month ago was pregnant. He sat down on the edge of tub. Head in his hands trying to figure out what he was going to do. His stomach grumbled telling him it was time for breakfast but he wasn’t in any mood to eat. He walked back to his bedroom. Putting on some clean clothes. Not even noticed as he passed the mirror that his muscles had lost some definition.

He made it to the bistro next door, ordered some breakfast and took a seat trying to take in the news that he was going to be a Father. His phone rang again. This time the girl from last night. Reluctantly he picked up the phone. “THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE” he screamed and slammed his phone down. She was claiming to be pregnant with his child too! And they didn’t even sleep together ! Lee picked his sandwich up to take a bite of his food when his hands caught him off guard. Dropping to the food he stared at them. Seeing dark hairs creeping out the back of them and traveling up his arms. Hurrying home he ran to the bathroom and took his shirt off only to see the dark hairs poking out of skin. His chest and abs has a dark sheen on then and turning sideways he could see his back had the same peach fuzz hairs that were growing. “WHAT IS GOING ON!”

Grabbing the razor he began to shave off all the hair that seemed to being growing like wild fire across his body. And only the. Did he see it. His muscles seemed to be deflating. It was starting to look like he skipped a few gym sessions. “What happening !!” He screamed.

His phone rang and he dreaded seeing who it was. Nathan. “I’ve decided to distance myself from you. Yesterday really hurt and I need this for me”. Lee sat on the bed. Head in hands sobbing. The one person he needed right now more than ever and he pushed him away. Lee didn’t know what was happening. He still felt hungry but all he wanted to do was sleep. It’s all he wanted to do with all the uncertain changes happening.

———————————

Waking up Lee felt more groggy than ever. He didn’t want to get out bed. Staring at the ceiling he didn’t know what to do. He can’t be a father of 1 kid let alone 2! His stomach churned and he knew he needed to eat something. Sitting up in bed he screamed. “WHT THE FUCK IS THIS!” Running to the bathroom he was horror struck. Hair was everywhere.

A thick beard coated his face. His muscle definition was gone. And his stomach was poking out as if he drank beer all the time ! Look down he see. Thicker legs that lead down to some meaty sweaty feet. That had the beginnings of dark hair coating them. He began to swap from all the changes. He was fucked. He didn’t know what was happening. And …and…was he SHORTER!! Judging his height from the bathroom sink he had to be at least 4 inches shorter!!

————————————————

A week last Nathan went to Lee’s apartment. The door was unlocked. Walking into the space the living area was completely disheveled. As if someone was tearing the place apart. On the couch was a large circled wrapped in a sheet. Water dripping from the opening where a face would be as the hunched over figure appeared to be crying. “Hello?” Lee’s could be heard. “GO AWAY!” Deep and raspy. Nathan sat down beside him. Asking what’s wrong? Lee responded that he was a freak. The exposed flesh that Nathan could see was a pair of large hairy feet that he could smell. Leading up to some tree trunk legs coated in the thickest hair he had ever seen on a man. He heard Lee’s stomach growling. “Do you need me to make you something to eat ?”

Whipping the sheet back Lee screamed “does it look like I need something to eat!?”

Nathan jumped back. Shocked at how large Lee had gotten. “I can’t even leave this apartment anymore without people calling Jaimie. Jaimie!!! I’m not my damn father ! I’m not!!” Lee’s phone wrong. “Oh no not again!!” As if on command his body immediately responded. His stomach swelling larger. His hair growing thicker and his body becoming smellier. The dark smile crept across Nathan’s face. Lee caught a glimpse of it. “You did this! You and your spells! What did you do!?” Nathan stood up and laughed at him. “Well. You always said you would never follow in the foot steps of your father. After the other day, I decided to make you do exactly that”. Le was becoming his worst nightmare. His own father and a father to many as well.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Redamancy

Lee Russell x GN! Reader

Summary: Standing up for Lee against his sisters.

Warnings: Slight Fluff, Established Relationship, LOTS of Confrontation, Yelling, Married to Lee, Slight Angst, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Heated Kiss, Mention of Lee being turned on

Wiping away the fuzz of the morning from your eyes while stomping down the steps, annoyance built from the banging on the front door. Having left Lee to sleep in on his day off, leaving you with an almost giddy feeling of getting to yell at your porch guest.

Taking notice of the two silhouettes through the frosty French door windows before swinging open the door, ready to unleash hell. "What!" you say angrily, not ready to yell just yet, looking at the two women who stood on the porch who looked more annoyed than you.

"Does Lee live here?" one said, but the other cut in, "Of course he does." The comment was not clearly meant for you, as she pushed past you.

"Lee, get your ass down here!" She yelled with the other following in, "What the fuck!?" you say, turning to watch them stare at the stairs. Watching as Lee flew down the steps, looking confused and scared while still putting on his shirt.

"Look at you, a fucking mess," she says, laughing, causing the other to do the same. "I'm sorry, I don't know they were coming." He says to you first, then turning to them, "Why are you here?" he asks, making them laugh harder.

"You're lucky we even came out here, Lee," one says before the other chimes in. "We're staying here for a few days; mom's watching the kids, so we need a break," she says, looking around in disgust. "Don't be rude, Lee. Introduce us," the other says, arms crossed.

Taking a deep breath with an extended arm to your back, he introduced the two who welcomed themselves into your shared home: "These are my sisters, Lacey and Lynn," pointing to the both of them. Lacey being the one who pushed past you earlier.

"Where's the guest rooms?" Lynn said walking to the stairs, pushing past Lee. "No," you said, causing all of their heads to snap in your direction. "You're not staying here," you say, laughing lightly at the ridiculousness, yet they turn to Lee. "Look at you—no balls, no calls, no emails, not even welcoming us in." Lacey starts seeing real fear fall on Lee's face, breaking your heart.

"ENOUGH!" You yell, making them turn to you once again, "Get the fuck out of our house!" seeing as fear lay on all of their faces. "I did not wake up in the crack of fucking dawn just to hear two strangers bitch and moan at my husband!" Continuing your unleashing of hell watching as the two step back from it.

Your rant didn't stop one of them from turning to Lee. "Nuh uh, don't even fucking look at him," you warn before yelling once more "OUT!" watching as they rush out of the house.

Keeping up with them, sadly having missed them with the door, you slammed it shut, then locked it, taking a few breaths to calm down before looking over to Lee, stunned by the events that just unfolded, his hazel eyes staring at you.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly while rushing over to him. "Yeah," he says breathy, "No wonder you never told me about-" cutting you off as his lips smashed against yours, quickly feeling your back hit the wall. Breaking the kiss, allowing you both to catch your breaths, "I fucking love you," he says, voice deep while pushing against you, feeling just how much he loves you for defending his mere existence.

A/N: I wrote, proofread, and edited this while having double vision. Hope you enjoyed!

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @danveration

[vnamps]

THE GRADE AID. 002

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overall summary: lee min-ho, your absolute academic rival, an absolute menace needs help to raise his grade before the semester ends, and who better to ask for help than you, the grade aid.

overall contents: minho is cocky, a bunch of teasing, angst, fights, mentions of injuries, good ending, lowercase

The walls of the school building made the sounds your shoes created echo as you walked through the hallways. The school was over, and the only remaining students were in the different clubs and practicing club activities. After school was a calming time for you as you could always find yourself able to work on your hobbies in peace, like art. 

Art was something you had a big passion for, something you wanted to further explore but never had the chance to because of your family's financial situation. At this school, students were able to do what they’d like after school so long as it was appropriate which was amazing for you as you had free access to the one thing you loved very much, the one thing you took more seriously than your studies.

As you walked into the room, it appeared empty as you sat down by an easel containing the unfinished artwork you’d been working on for the past few weeks, frowning as your mind felt fuzzed on what to add next. 

“that looks nice” a voice spoke from behind you. It startled you as you turned around to see another student. He was tall and had long brunette hair that stopped before his shoulders. 

You nodded slowly, turning back around before sighing. “It’s missing something, I can’t figure out what though..” your voice trailed off as you began to think, his voice taking you out of a trance.

“Art block?” was a simple phrase, one that you related to all too well, one that caused you to nod once again. 

“It shouldn’t be much of a problem, maybe a good night's rest help you. Also, aren’t you a part of the student body? What are you doing in the art room at this time?”

“I needed to get my mind off something..”

He nodded again, taking in a chair next to you, implying that you should continue. You shouldn’t rant to a total stranger who indeed knew who you were but if it weren’t for that stranger you’d have no one. 

“do you know Lee Minho?” it was a stupid question really, anyone who attended the school knew the menace, even without him knowing them. 

The boy in front of you gave a small smile, nodding. “He’s..something” you hum in agreement, letting out a sigh before looking at your failure of a painting. “It’s just- he has… everything…  a good lifestyle, a stable one at that… he’s wealthy, people like him. I don’t- I don’t get why he’d wanna take the one good thing I have going for me, my stardom” 

He nods in understanding as you rant. “Maybe he’s jealous of you?”  

“Me? Why would he ever be jealous of me? He already has people who like him for who he is, I don’t.” 

The boy lets out a small breath, leaning it just an inch before grinning “I like you for who you are, you’re not very much like those other students”

“So you say… what’s your name?” 

“Y/n L/n”  

“Hwang Hyunjin, you?”

Minho sits at the table, a cup of coffee in his hands as he lets out a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it Jisung. They‘re taking away all I have”  Jisung looks attentively at the set of notes you had given Minho before looking up at the older boy with worry in his eyes. 

“How are they taking it from you, this amount of notes is insane, something you haven’t done.” Jisung questions, his eyes in disbelief.

“That’s the problem. Before they came, everyone paid attention to me. My father says if I can’t have a small school full of undeveloped teenagers' respect, how can I have the respect of the entire world.”

Jisung sighs “I don’t think it’s that deep. Besides, y/n comes from a small family who doesn’t have all of our luxuries. Wouldn’t it be fine to let them have this one small thing?”

“No. It’s not fine. I can’t have some- random person take away something I’ve worked hard for. They need to stop.” Minho stares into space, his head clouded in thought. 

Jisung glances over at Jeongin, looking at him with pleading eyes.  Jeongin looks up from his book, scoffing at the older two. 

“What am I meant to do? Tell him to date y/n and convince them to let him be top at everything?” 

Minhos eyes widened at that, a slight “ha” leaving his mouth as Jeongin looked at him, a slight regret in his eyes. 

“No no no, don’t think about doing that, it isn’t fair.” Jisung says, trying to talk him out of it.

“Since when was I fair?”

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@palindrome969 @rpwplost @valkyriexo @intrikatie @brainrotahahaha @turtledove824 @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa @ashxxgyu @linosalwayslinos 

[harveylembecks]

kind of experiencing the danny kaye effect trying to watch series 11 of taskmaster. mike wozniak is such a gorgeous man that i'm kind of swept away whenever he's in shot

[lelengerine]

helloo!!! I am so glad you are back again,really missed seeing you on my dash:(

also,from your mini drabble list, the arranged marriage au really caught my eye! can you please write it with jeno as the main protagonist? I don't have anything specific in mind except that I am obsessed with the opposites attract kinda trope but you can write it anyway you want! thank you in advance <3

love, lee

pairing | prince!jeno x princess!reader

genre | royalty + arranged marriage au, jeno uses a nickname for reader (love), no pronouns are specifically used for this, lmk if there’s any i missed!

wc | 0.9k

notes | i think my love for royalty aus are really stating to show now TT this is my first jeno work and there were actually multiple entries for jeno with the arranged marriage trope so i hope this suffices for now (maybe i’ll make a part two or follow another req if i can !!) it’s not exactly the same as what anon mentioned because i tried to condense the ideas to the size of a drabble as much as possible but i love all ur brains so much LIKE TELL ME MORE 😭😭 anw likes, rbs, and feedbacks are very appreciated ;0;

this is part of my drabble req event here!

m.list

there’s this prophecy that landed upon your kingdom just as its walls were newly established, one that spoke of prosperity if two individuals coming from royal backgrounds were to be wed under every full moon.

of course, that hasn’t come true (and you don’t believe it ever will), but both the civilians and the royal family hold onto that sliver of hope ever so dearly. though, in the position of being someone forced into the position of marriage, you can’t help but view the tradition as something simply bizarre and unnecessary.

moreover, you haven't a clue who you are about to marry. the thought irritates you to the core, and your mother’s repetitive words on how this was ‘something she experienced too’ not making you feel any better — in fact, it was dampening your already sour mood even further.

just why hadn’t this been dropped centuries ago? the answer to that question doesn’t seem to be keen on revealing itself to you.

and so here you are, behind tall wooden doors in a dress you struggle to move in — much less breathe in — that will soon reveal a banquet hall filled with your and your groom’s relatives, a plethora of aristocrats that you couldn’t even dare to name no matter how long you stared at them, and reporters who were ready to swarm you with questions whenever they’d get the chance.

“there’s no need to fear, my dear.” your mother states by your side, and a scoff is the first response she receives.

“i hope you understand that what you’ve said lacks any sensitivity for my situation.” you bitterly reply with a blank expression, not even turning to face her once. with that, she decides to keep silent, not wanting to aggravate you any longer.

the doors open, finally placing you on display for everyone to see, and the first person your eyes search for is your husband-to-be.

he stands in front of the beautifully decorated altar in a navy blue suit and fur coat that looks just as uncomfortable as the white gown you’re wearing, and you start to feel a little sympathy for him knowing he probably didn’t have any plans of marrying you either.

you were both victims in this grand scheme, after all.

a step, two steps, and before you know it, you’re meeting his gaze for the first time. he offers a soft smile that puffs up his cheeks ever so slightly, pupils shining beneath the lights that brighten up the entire hall, and for a moment, you forget how much you’ve detested this day to come.

‘get a grip, it’s definitely for show’, you mentally tell yourself as your lips return the kind gesture.

the ceremony soon starts, and the words spoken by the priest pass through your ears like static fuzz, not paying attention to the prophecy that was being retold to the audience.

“i assume you were forced into this?” you begin in a whisper, wanting only the person beside you to hear your voice.

you turn to gaze at him and he looks a little surprised you actually started a conversation. “sure.”

sure? what kind of response was that? the least he could do was respond with a decisive yes or no to not leave you hanging like this. perhaps that smile from earlier really was to fool the reporters on a loveless marriage

“could you at least tell me your name?” you try to reach out once more, “it’s laughable as is to know we are in the middle of being wed and i have not a single clue on who you are.”

“lee, jeno.” he responds, and though it technically is an answer to your question, you’re oddly left unsatisfied at how perfunctory it was. “yours?”

“l/n, y/n.” you state in the same manner as if you wanted him to feel the same as you did just moments prior. “how does it feel to get married to a stranger? because i surely find this unsettling.”

you tried to play into humor, hoping to get a better reaction out of him, but what he says shocks you instead. “we aren’t strangers though.”

“what-” you start to sputter, however the priest cuts you off at the mention of announcing your respective vows.

“i’m sure you’ll recall it soon enough.” jeno’s expression finally shifts from his icy facade to a sly smirk that perfectly exemplifies his features, and you’re not sure whether to find the sight unsettling or absolutely breathtaking. “because i’ve known you my entire life, love.”

the nickname has your mind reeling in circles, paying no attention to the vows jeno was now dictating like a memorized poem of sorts. there was ever only one person who’s called you by that name, though it could never be someone like him… could it?

you snuck out of the castle to one of the town’s bakeries back when you were younger, meeting a boy who told you he was doing the exact same thing because he swore their garlic bread was absolutely out of this world, and that’s exactly why you came in the first place. it was like you both clicked, and that meeting became the first of many. though, as you grew older, your hectic tutoring schedules made it difficult for you to frequent the bakery as much as you used to.

still, you remember he suggested exchanging letters as a means of keeping in contact, and he’s the only one who’s referred to you as love. his love.

you’re abruptly taken away from your thoughts as the priest repeats your name, “princess, your vows if you may.”

“oh um, sorry.” you quickly apologize, trying to gather yourself back up.

jeno’s gaze on you looks much more animated than before, almost as if there was a playful glint that replaced the cold ones from earlier. where was the man you met moments ago as the event started? “i suppose you remember now.”

“yeah.” you breathe out, “yeah, i do.”

[pupsmailbox]

CAT ︰FELINE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. aina. aislin. amaris. apricity. artemis. aspen. aster. aylin. babi. bell. bella. ben. bennett. benny. boo. bristle. buddy. buttercup. calico. callie. cat. cataka. catalyn. catarine. cataura. cate. catelynn. caterina. catherine. catlyn. catnip. catra. catriel. catrin. catriona. charlotte. chat. chatters. cheshette. cheshire. chompo. citrie. claw. clawrina. clementine. cleo. coco. cole. cozie. critter. dessie. diana. diona. dippin. ditzy. dots. dreametta. drowsette. edur. eira. elara. fang. fausta. faustette. faustina. felicity. felina. feline. felisha. felix. fennec. ferri. fluff. fluffie. fluffles. fluffy. fortune. freya. fur. furayah. furina. furona. gato. gatto. gianna. gigi. ginger. hiraya. hissan. holly. hyacinth. hypnoticesse. iris. izzy. jett. jinx. kalico. kat. kataka. katalyn. katarina. katashi. kate. katelinn. katelyn. katharine. kathayani. katherina. kathi. kathirah. kathita. kathleen. kathrine. kathryn. katika. katilyn. katinah. katinka. katlin. katrina. katsen. katte. kattie. katzchen. katze. kelly. kettlingur. kismet. kit. kitti. kittie. kitty. kizzy. korat. kot. kote. kuting. kyathi. lawler. layla. lee. leo. leon. leonardo. lil. lilith. lily. lioness. lionette. liora. loki. lola. lottie. luckitty. lucky. lucy. lumi. luna. lunar. lunette. lynx. maine. mao. maola. maoli. maolia. maolmin. marie. mau. meowesse. meowli. meowy. mew. mewlina. mewy. midnight. milka. milo. missy. mist. misty. mitten. mittens. mizuki. mona. moonie. morphius. nala. napolean. narcyz. narkissa. neko, nemuri. neoma. neomi. nepeta. nevada. noir. nyamu. nyasia. nyx. olwen. onyx. oreo. orpheus. owen. paris. pawelek. pawleen. pawline. paws. popoki. poppy. prince. princess. pumpkin. purresse. purrette. purriette. purrlina. purrse. ragdoll. ravae. river. ruby. scar. selene. selenia. shade. sleepesse. stitch. stripe. sunny. sunrise. sunshine. sylvester. sylvie. tab. tabby. tabitha. thimble. tigris. tilly. tiny. tom. treat. valorie. vulpes. whisker. whiskers. willow. yue. yume.

PRONOUNS ⌇　(=^･ω･^=)/(=^･ω･^=). /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\//ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ. :3/:3. >:3/:>:3. >:3/>:3. >ww<. ^^/^^. ^^/^^. ^w^/^w^. ado/adore. ash/ash. aw/warm. bell/bell. bit/bit. bite/bite. ble/bless. blizz/blizzard. bow/bow. box/box. ca/cat. calm/calm. candle/candle. car/caracal. carni/vora. cat/cat. cat/nip. caterwaul/cayerwaul. catnip/catnip. cha/chase. chan/chance. chase/chase. chatter/chatter. cheer/cheerful. cher/cher. chew/chew. chom/chomp. chub/chub. cla/claw. claw/claw. claw/clawed. cli/climb. collar/collar. cookie/cookie. cozy/cozy. cu/cute. cud/cuddle. cuddle/cuddle. cute/cute. cute/cutie. dark/dark. des/destiny. dream/dream. drow/drowsy. eep/eepy. ey/em fa/fate. fang/fang. fay/fem fe/line. fel/feline. feli/dae. feli/feline. feline/feline. fi/fish. fish/fish. fleur/fleur. fli/flip. flick/flicker. floof/fluff. fluff/fluff. fluffy/fluffy. for/fortune. fri/friend. fu/fur. fur/fur. fu/fuzz. fuzz/fuzz. ga/to. gloom/gloomy. happ/happy. hi/his. hiss/hiss. ho/hop. hope/ful. hu/hunt. hunt/hunt. hunter/hunter. hy/hymn. hyp/hype. intro/vert. jagu/jaguar. ju/jump. kat/kat. kit/kit. kit/kitten. kit/kitty kit/kitty. knea/knead. kya/kya. lawl/law. lawl/lawl. leap/leap. lion/lion. lu/luck. luv/luv. lynx/lynx. mao/mao. me/meow. meo/meow. meow/meow. mew/meow. mew/mew. miau/miau. miew/miow. mil/milk. milk/milk. mimimi/mimimi. mlem/mlem. moon/moon. mrow/mrow. mrr/mrrp. mrreow/mrreow. mrrp/mrrp. nap/nap. neko/neko. night/night. nip/nip. noct/noct. nom/nyom. nya/nya. nya/nyan. pa/paw. panth/panthe. panth/panther. paw/claw. paw/paw. pawpad/pawpad. pessi/pessimist. pet/pet. petal/petal. pi/pink. pitter/patter. pla/play. play/playful. pou/pounce. pr/prr. pra/prance. prowl/prowl. prr/prr. pup/paw. purr/purr. quiet/quiet. ribbon/ribbon. ro/roll. roll/roll. sca/scratch. scra/scratch. scratch/scratch. sha/shake. shade/shade. shadow/shadow. shy/hyr shy/shy. skit/skitter. slee/sleep. sneak/sneak. sniff/sniff. snooze/snooze. snow/snowflake. soft/soft. spe/speak. spi/spin. squi/squish. sta/stare. swe/sweet. sweet/sweet. swi/swipe. ta/tail. tail/tail. tig/tig. tig/tigri. tiger/tiger. tire/tired. tired/tired. toy/toy. tre/treat. tri/trick. trill/trill. vae/vaem vix/vixen. waf/waffle. warm/warmth. whis/whisker. whisk/whisker. wonder/wonder. ya/yarn. yarn/yarn. yaw/yawn. yawn/yawn. yip/yip. yowl/yowl. zoomie/zoomie. zz/zz. 🍣 . 🐅 . 🐆 . 🐈 . 🐱 . 🐾 . 💤 . 😺 . 🥛 . 🦁 . 🦴 .

[missamyrisa2]

Agdjsj your massage story got me thinking of a professional clit-cleanser,,, little Lees sign up for a professional, thorough cleaning with a shower head, spinny brushes of all textures, and of course a feather brush-dry at the end

"Oooh you absolutely are overdue for a cleaning ~~ and luckily this is like, a fully automatic facility we have here~ just sit in this cozyy chair and relaxxx ~ now, this miiiiight ticklee~!!"

I skip about in my purple dress, pigtails bouncing as I start setting dials and pressing buttons before I nudge you back into the salon chair. I flash a smirk and pull a lever on the back and activate a team of robotic hands, unable to hold back my squeaky excitement while I watch and pose with a hand on my thick waist belt. Their fingers spring forth and wiggle menacingly at you before diving in, stripping away your clothes and tossing them to a nearby collection bin.

"For your safetyyy~" I grin, pressing a button to restrain your ankles and wrists to the chair with thick waterproof straps. Humming merrily, I pull out what looks like a hair cutting cape, though a bit smaller and emblazoned with a glimmering pearl logo. "Just relaxxx and let the machines do their work~hmm" I squeak and drape the cape over your waist, snugly setting it to hang over your royal area.

With another beep and clank, you suddenly find yourself looking up at my grinning face. The reclined salon chair starts scooting forth on its path, the walls opening and clicking to draw you into the cleansing factory. "First weee~ wheeee~!! We start with a presoak~" I can't contain my excitement, scurrying behind the chair with my clipboard and remote. With a whine and whoosh, a shiny showerhead twists into view coordinating with the chair which is shifting to gently spread your legs.

The collective of little circles on the head begin coating your royal area with a gentle spray, gradually raising in pressure to spread teasing soft touches across your thighs and royal lips, carefully aiming under the clit cape. "Now, did you want the triple foam package?" I start pressing buttons to summon nozzely hoses from three angles which start covering your girly area with a rainbow haze of tingly color. "Of course you dooo~"

As the foam settles and tingles and cleanses, the showerhead retracts and the chair moves further through curtains of light and growing machinery sounds. In the next segment a massive circle rolls out and clicks to life, extending a gang of scrubby brushes. Each one works to cleanse a layer of foam away as I watch and note the progress. "Pearl Destressing is absolutely essential. All these soft brushes make sure the foam is nicely scrubbed right into your most elegant areas." I lean in and watch as your legs quiver at the sensation of each brush gently gliding along your inner thighs over your lips and along your pearly area. "My my my ~ you really are sensitive huh? Don't worry, you can wiggle all you like. You're nice and snug."

The chair moves you along further into the facility, the sounds of slapping materials fill your ear right as you start to see the fuzzy curtains swishing back and forth. "Oh don't worry, that's just to keep the texture nice and fluffed. We're not gonna rough you up darling~" I snicker as we watch together the hanging threads of fuzz slowing and turning to start gently kissing and gliding up your royal area while the chair hums and takes you through. The remaining tingle foam is whisked away and your cleansed skin is thoroughly teased and coaxed into ticklish sensations by the endless parade of swishy soft materials~

"Awww, does that tickle? Does it just tickle soooo much?" I chuckle knowingly, patting your head and teasing your neck with feathery touches while you helplessly struggle through the treatments. In the next room you see the indicator stating it's time for the drying, but after a quick tingly scan the machine goes off in alarm and overrides the process to instead read Deep Rinse. "Ooooh my my my you're a naughty thing huhhhh?" I step around if fake shock, pointing at your swollen wanting button~ "Yeppp we've got a naughty pearlyyy~!!"

Tapping buttons on the machine, robotic hands spring back out and start lightly massaging your inner thighs with their wiggly index fingers, as a coat is slid down my arms and goggles placed over my eyes, with a hand dropping a shiny silver wand into my waiting hand. "Now hold still girlyyy~ we're gonna get you niiiice and clean, I promise~" my tongue pokes out in concentration as I lean in and use the water wand to start spraying up your royal lips. The robotic hands work to tickle and coax out your most royal button, getting close to the outside of your lips as I start drawing up from below.

"Aww ~ coochie cooo laughing girl~ you are soooo naughty ~ look at thatttt ~ you need sooo much cleansing~" I work my wand upward, spraying right over your button with a tickly jet, modulating the pressure up and down while my helpers tickle around your mound and down to your thighs and occasionally hold your steady so I can thoroughly cleanse your throbbing pearl before clicking my tongue in admonishment. "Tsk tsk. Sooo naughty. You keep that up and we'll just have to cleanse you all day oh yes we willll~ satisfaction guaranteed at this clitty cleansing center~!! You don't leave until we have you shiny clean~~"

I snicker and work away, reaching back to pick up a detail brush, teasing with the lightest of stroking pokes on the underside of your button while the spray works around side to side. "Sooo many giggles and gasps in youuu~ good thing we're extracting them allll~"

When you've finally been deep cleansed to satisfaction, your dizzy starry-eyed giggly self is at least in the final chamber. "Only the finest ~ gentlest ~ pamper dry for our cute girly pearllll~" I tease, tracing a long stiff feather over your neck and chest before planting it into the machine. The apparatus starts pivoting back and forth with a click, carefully wicking away the remaining droplets on your girly parts with the feather's tip. "The key is a slooooww dry ~ I could blot away all of it with this nice soft towel hmmm" I run the luxurious cloth over my own face and hum at you~ "but this special feather will dry you one drop at a time for maximum cleansing ~ and sensation~"

I plop myself onto the nearby chair and start pulling up the stats and footage of your cleansing as the machine clicks away, the feather tip caressing at your button and slowly drying it with the tickliest of slow strokes. "Don't you worry, I'll just be over here reviewing your progress and we'll check and see if you need a reclean here when the machine is done~"

[jeongintwenty3]

10.53 p.m.

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight hurt comfort

summary: a sick you unwillingly decided to call off the date, but minho didn’t seem to mind one bit.

warnings: mentions of sickness, tears

author’s note: hiii! my third update of the day HAHA my midterms are coming soon so i probably am able to draft a few, let’s hope i can be more active after this. any asks or requests are appreciated <3 thank you for staying around and thank you for existing, love yaaaa!

————————————————————————

It was Friday, which means it’s date night! However, due to your lover being absent for the past week due to his work which required him to leave town for a bit, it’s getting postponed. As the night grew darker, your lids grew heavier. A fatigue started to fuzz your entire being, leaving you sweating buckets for a minute and shivering for another. There laid yourself on the bed that’s somehow uncomfortable when usually, it’s the safest place you can ever cocoon yourself in. The thin shirt you wore felt like two layers of the thickest hoodies you own, the constant breaking of sweat seemed to keep your body on edge, fraying each and every nerve. Sight blurred with what you made out to be tiredness, you reached for the cabinet that stored the many medicines – trying to identify which one worked best for you, you accidentally knocked over the thermos. Grunting, you gave up and decided to just wait for Minho to come home. His plane landed just an hour ago, so it’s estimated that in ten minutes, your boyfriend will walk through the door. Everything will be okay, you tried convincing yourself. But the constant thrumming in your head, the shivers running up and down your body kept yourself from believing so. After a few minutes of tiptoeing between the line of unconsciousness and being awake, you let yourself lose in the battle with sleep.

There was the man you’ve been waiting all night for, taking off his shoes and putting the socks in the laundry, his feet leading him to the oddly dark living room. Checking his phone, Minho found it weird – the last text you sent was saying you’re in the living room, watching the drama Minho claimed to be unrealistic. Dropping his luggage as quietly as possible, he padded his way through the premises, it’s too quiet for his liking. Minho figured you’d be in the master bedroom after checking both the reading room and kitchen. His hunch was right, you were practically sleeping – but you were unfit. The rummaged drawer of medicines, remnants of sweat and the thermos on the floor practically gave it away. Even though he tried picking up the piece of metal daintily, his presence somewhat set an alarm off in you – causing you to jolt awake and for the pain to double. Eyes wide open, you felt suffocated.

Minho directed every last bit of his attention towards his lover. Noticing something was definitely wrong, he checked your temperature by pressing his lips to your forehead. It was warmer than usual, he thought.

“Baby, you’re burning up,” he whispered, tucking away the locks that fell messily upon your face.

“I am hot, thanks,” you retaliate, not knowing where the energy came from.

Shaking his head, he asked, “Since when were you feeling like this?” – eyes busy taking in your figure, hands rubbing your forearm with utmost care. Minho never wanted to come home to this sight, to his lover deteriorating due to this fever that emerged out of nowhere – or so he thought.

“Last night was merely a headache. Today’s a hundred times worse,” you confessed, “Maybe it’s because I kinda got caught up with work lately.” Minho held his palm out, reaching for your left cheek. You sighed, nuzzling into his touch – rubbing it fondly, he shot you a sad smile, “I told you to take breaks, hmm?”

“Please don’t lecture me. What I need is your hugs, not your anger. Please?” eyes slightly tearing up and red, Minho felt his heart chip at the sight.

“Wasn’t even planning on getting angry, baby. Here, drink up,” he offered your thermos and two blue pills for you to consume – in hopes you'll sleep better. Minho helped you sit up, leaning your head on the headboard. Doing exactly what he said, you gulped the whole thermos. Minho patted your head a few times, just like how he’d pet his three cats back home. He found you adorable and he hates (not) how soft you make him feel.

“Hugs,” you said, holding out your two arms for him to slot himself into.

“I haven’t showered,” he defended himself. Huffing, you crossed your arms placing them in front of your chest. Minho laughed at your gesture and continued, “15 minutes, then I’ll give you hugs. What do you think?”

“Five,”

“Ten, then,”

“Fine.”

Ten minutes passed by in a whiz, but somehow sleep found you right before Minho could snuggle under the duvet with you. Giggling at your figure, he checked your temperature again with the same method as before – curtly pressing his lips on your forehead. The temperature’s gone down, he thought, it’s still warm but it’s better than before. This action pulled you out of your dozed state. Without opening your eyes, you pointed at your lips, a signal for him to kiss your lips too. Complying to your antics, Minho leaned in and swiftly pecked your lips. You missed him, but your current condition is hindering you from smothering Minho with all the love he can get.

“Sorry I ruined our Friday night,” you apologized, eyes still closed but body moving closer to him.

Minho’s hands found its way to your waist, eroding any distance left between the two of you. Leaving kisses here and there, he loved seeing the way you’d slightly scrunch your eyebrows and squirmed everytime he left a peck.

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby. I love taking care of you. Are you feeling better?”

“Much,”

“Then that’s what matters. Get some rest, yeah? I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered, looking at you with pools of love swimming in his two brown orbs, even though you were in a condition you described as hella ugly – hair unruly, lips chapped and skin seeming to lose some melanin due to the sickness. Resting your head on the broad of his chest, he took the blanket and covered the two of you, making sure you were comfortable.

Seeing that you got dragged back into the abyss of sleep, Minho stayed awake for an extra 30 minutes, making sure the illness wasn’t disrupting any of the peaceful sleep you needed. Before heading straight into dreamland, he kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you, feel better soon, my love.”

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Grant Lee Buffalo - Shepherd's Bush Empire, London, England, October 11, 1994

The Guided By Voices post last week ruffled the feathers of my infamous brother — he claims to have introduced me to GBV back in 1994. Hey, it was a long time ago, maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong. However, the Dollar Bin maniac definitely turned me on to GLB (Grant Lee Buffalo, that is) three decades ago, right when the band's classic Mighty Joe Moon came out. I remember hearing it and thinking: "Wow, these guys are going to be bigger than Pearl Jam!" And I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't I?!!

Oh well. Grant Lee Phillips, Joey Peters and Paul Kimble did seem like they were on the cusp of a mainstream breakthrough that fall — "Mockingbirds" got some KROQ play, I think I saw the video on MTV, and the gig Nathan and I caught in November at the Roxy was packed to the gills. To the gills!

A few weeks before that, GLB was over in London playing a larger space, and we can hear a sweet radio broadcast of that show now. What might surprise you is just how aggressive/explosive the trio is here, really raging through even some of the mellower-on-record numbers. Fired up! Phillips sings/snarls/croons magnificently, and tears into his guitar leads, making his acoustic 12-string sound almost Sonic Youth-y when he steps on the fuzz(y) pedal. This ain't the Stars Hollow Town Troubadour, friends.

[13as07]

Flower

(Rock Lee)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Twinvenus]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,574

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Peep me having to look up types of flowers because I ran out of names

I know Kurenai retired when her kid was born but I refuse to believe that cause screw Kishimoto's semi-sexist writing

Gets a little heated in the middle

Nonsexual shower scene

———————————————————————

"My Petunia!" Rock's voice rings out, filling the field with his voice. Kiba lets out a long sigh that quickly melts into a groan. He's not the biggest fan of Lee, the reason why is still unknown. However, I think it's just our clan's territorial behaviors shining through. I get a little defensive when people flock to him too.

"Over here, Rocky!" I call, throwing my hand up to wave it around in hopes he'll see it.

Akamaru jumps up from his sunbathing spot, running circles around Kiba and me as he barks his snout off. My dog, Gekko, does the same, chasing after Akamaru in a playful game of tag. When he catches Akamaru, he flips around, running in the opposite direction as Kiba'a dog chases.

When Rock gets closer, Kiba lets out an exaggerated sigh, and Gekko beelines for Lee. Akamaru follows, the two dogs now attempting to pounce on the Shinobi. "Sunflower, call off the dogs!" He whines, trying to escape the ball of fuzz that keeps following him around. "Rose! Kiba!"

I let out a whistle, throwing my hands up again with my palms facing the dogs. They do as the signal suggests, racing forward to press their noses against my hands. "Who's a good boy?" I praise them, rubbing their snouts as I take turns littering them with kisses. "Are you a good boy Aka? Yes, you are! How about you? Are you a good boy too Ge-Ge? Yes, Sir."

The dogs settle down, Gekko resting his head in my lap as Akamaru goes to bother his owner. "You're home early," I mutter, leaning backward to look at Lee as I scratch my dog's ears. "I didn't think you'd be home for a few more days."

"My mission ended early so I figured we could celebrate!" Rocky cheers, falling into his usual placement. His hands cup my neck, his wraps rubbing against my throat as he massages it. Lee's head dips, his hair flapping around in its cute way as he looks down at me. "What time would work best for you, my Iris?"

"Kiba and I have to meet up with Kurenai-Sensei in about an hour. We're usually done training by five-thirty."

"Five-thirty it is!" Lee cheers, brushing kisses across the red markings of my cheeks.

Kiba rolls off his back, fake gagging as he does so. "I'll need to shower afterward, Rocky. How about six-thirty? It'll give me an hour to shower and look nice," I giggle out, Gekko jumping up to cover me in kisses too. It's funny how much competition Rock and my dog think they have over my attention.

"Six-thirty, and not a minute later!" He cheers again, littering my nose in kisses. "We'll go get some good curry and then go for a walk. Oh! Maybe you can even spend the night!"

"I'll think about it," I say the words coming out as a laugh. I let my eyes flutter closed, soaking in the feeling of his lips against my face and his nimble fingers caressing my neck. "But, it'll probably be yes."

"Yes," he mumbles under his breath, joy coating the single word. "All right, I'll let you be, Daisy."

Three, four, five kisses are pecked on my lips before Lee drops his hold on me. A huge smile is on his face as he pulls away. He pats Gekko's head before he starts walking away, waving at me the whole way.

"Gross, disgusting, I'm going to throw up my lunch," Kiba grumbles, sitting upright. "You two are gross."

"You're just jealous," I tease, knocking my fist into his shoulder.

He teases back, dramatically falling back to the ground as he holds his arm. "Oh no, you broke it. You broke my shoulder. Tell Kurenai-Sensei I can't train today."

"You're such a baby," I giggle out, standing up and dusting myself off. The dogs trail after me, a groaning Kiba making up the butt end of the pack per usual.

————————————

My focus is on Lee's mirror I'm kneeling in front of, sights set on applying my makeup. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Rock sitting criss-crossed in my bed, his eyes jumping between me and my sketchbook I'm letting him flip through.

"Marigold?"

"Rocky?" I call back, rubbing my brush over my cheeks again. My blush is too pink and I can't get it to blend out for the life of me.

"I saw the prettiest field on my last mission." I hum in acknowledgment, finally making progress on my blending. "I think when we get home you should sketch it for me since I didn't get to take a picture of it."

"I can do that for you," I mutter, letting my eyes flicker up. Lee has left the bed and is now standing behind me, my book hanging from the fingertips of his right hand. His left hand jumps up, cupping my throat again today.

I managed to talk him out of his outfit. The usual green is still present, this time as a sweatshirt with his Shinobi tag hanging out the pocket of the workout shorts he chose to wear. Rock is a pretty boy, and he definitely works his body suit but he looks so much better in his day-to-day clothes. Despite the change-up, his hands are still wrapped up in his signature bandages.

Said bandages rub against my neck again, toying with my skin as Lee's big eyes focus on me in the mirror. His eyes remind me of a stuffed animal, so round and soft. I could melt away in them.

My eyes trail over him as his eyes trail over me. I like it when Rock wears shorts, it shows off some of the 'sleep build' he has.

As if he can read my thoughts, Lee shifts forward, tapping his knees against my back. "Are you ready to go, Lavender?"

I hum a yes, letting my eyes trail over him again. "You're hot, you know that Rocky?"

"Oh, well, thank you, Blue Bell," He races out, one hand tightening around my sketchbook as the other one jumps off of me to scratch the back of his head. His cheeks are a bright red as he glances away from me, his flusteredness evident in the darker red his face gets. "You're very pretty too. Just cause you are, not because of your makeup. Though your makeup is pretty too and I appreciate your efforts to look nice for me. I just want you to know that I don't think you're not pretty without it or that I don't think your makeup is nice. I just - "

"I know, Lee," I cut him off, climbing to my feet as the man goes on a ramble. "I'm glad you think I'm pretty." I turn around so we're face-to-face, letting my hands snake into the pocket of his hoody. Rocky's hands fall to my hips, my sketchbook between his hand and my side on one side. "Can I have a kiss?" I ask, leaning forward so I'm pressed against him.

"Of course, Tulip!" He answers, his face lighting up at my question. His free hand jumps up, cupping the back of my neck as his head dips. Lee's lips brush against mine, soft and slow like always. It melts me how much time and care he takes when kissing me. It's always kisses that make my knees weak.

Rocky's hold on me tightens, head tilting to the side a bit as he keeps his lips gentle. My mouth parts slightly, testing to see what it is he wants. His tongue pokes out, rubbing against my bottom lip before disappearing. It pokes out again, running over my own this time. He tastes like a honey-crisp apple, which isn't a surprise. Lee insists having an apple for breakfast helps his immune system.

His head tilts again, giving him more space to trail his tongue around my mouth. The moment doesn't last long though, Lee pulls back, hand still present as he tugs himself away from me. A huge smile is set on his face, cheeks dusted pink again and mouth stained from my lipstick. "Thank you, Pansy."

"For what?" I ask, leaning forward in search of another kiss.

Lee backs away, cheeriness still lingering off of him as he smiles down at me. "For our kiss. I like kisses like that." The second half is almost whispered, his cheek darkening as he looks away from me. "Anyway," Rock cheers, hand moving to toy with my hair. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ya, we should probably clean my lipstick off of you first," I mumble, sliding my hands out of his pocket. I let them dance up his chest before dangling over his shoulders, crossing them to try and keep him in place. "I want another kiss first though."

Rocky shifts in my hold, cheeks flaring again as his eyes jump around. "We should eat before we... do anything else."

I hum in agreement, tightening my arms around him as I lean against him again. "We won't do anything until after dinner," I murmur, crashing my lips against his.

Lee gives in, tongue poking my lips instantly. My head tilts, mouth parting to give him what he wants. His apple taste slides into my mouth again, the sound of my sketchbook tumbling to the ground as his grip tightens. "Daffodil," Rocky mutters, tugging me backward as he sucks in a breath.

"Rock," I mutter back, my hands dancing across his shoulders.

He bumps into the bed, falling into a sitting position as I shift myself between his knees. Lee's hands fall to the back of my knees, gripping them to tug me up, settling them next to his hips. "We should... we need to get going," He stumbles out, lips pressed against mine again.

"We should get going," I echo, letting our kisses continue for another beat before I pull away. "But first, let's clean you up and fix my lipstick."

                     ————————————

Rocky's hands dance under my shirt, toying with the area just above my belly button as I struggle to focus enough to slide his keys into the lock of his door. His nose is buried into my hair, mouth focused on sucking softly on my skin. "Snowdrop?" He mutters into my skin, a single hand leaving my stomach to crawl across my arm.

His fingers wrap around mine, helping me shove the key into the lock and turn it. We stumble into the house, courtesy of our previous pressed-up position in the door. Lee's hands jump to my waist, helping me stay on my feet. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, clinging to his wrists with my shirt disrupting our connection. "Are you good?"

"I'm good," he answers, using his hold on me to pick me up. I'm carried into his room kisses brushed to my clothed shoulders as he walks around. Once we're in his room, I'm settled on his bed before his attention switches away from me.

"Rocky," I whine, clinging to his arms that are trying to tug away from me.

"My Morning Glory," he coos, bending down to peck my lips. A few more kisses are peppered to my lips before Lee - successfully - pulls away from me. "Let me get my evening workout in and shower. Then I'm all yours."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Rock giggles, coating my cheeks in kisses before he leaves me alone in the bed. The noise of him getting his stuff out fills the room as I scan for my sketchbook. It's still discarded on the ground from earlier, standing out against the tan carpet of Lee's room.

Reluctantly I climb out of bed, collecting my art book and digging through my overnight bag for my drawing pencils. "Hey, Rock?"

"Hey, Poppy?" He calls back, tugging off his hoodie. Rocky put on a t-shirt, probably one Naruto bought him because of the graphic in it, gracing me with the sight of his defined form.

"What did that field you were talking about look like?" Lee jumps into his explanation, doing his best to remember all the details as he starts his sets of sit-ups.

     I half listen to his speech, my eyes trailing over his shirt. My cheeks heat up as I watch the way his muscles shift with his movements, most notably the way his arms and shoulders move. "Did you hear me, Orchid?" Lee asks, staying seated with his arms still pressed to his head.

     "Hmm? Ya, ya I heard you. I'm just... envisioning it," I mutter, snapping my sketchbook open. "Do you want it black and white or colored?"

     "Black and white is fine," Rock answers, slowly moving back down to his laying position.

     My eyes scan over the blank sheet, reversing Lee's words as I plan out my attack on the paper. My focus stays on my sketch, quickly laying out the plan so I have something to go off of.

     By the time my very rough outline is laid out, Lee is shuffling around again. My eyes flicker up on occasion, watching him situate his pull-up bar in the door frame. What little focus I have is gone when he jumps up, clinging to the bar stuck to the door.

     My mind wanders just as much as my eyes do, taking in the sight of his ridden-up shirt. They jump around from his stomach to his arms, back down to his exposed v-line. "Rocky?"

     "Hydrangea?" He huffs out, his eyes flickering to me before he focuses on his breathing again.

     "We should go take a shower... right now."

     "It's... just... a light... workout," Lee counters, pulling himself up and letting out a huff of air between each word. "I'll be done soon," he tells me, letting himself hang for a beat before he rolls into another set. "Wait we?" He asks, letting himself hang again after a few pull-ups.

     "Yes, we," I mumble, falsely focusing on my outline. "I want to take a shower with you if you want."

     "Ya, yep. Ya, that... I would like that," Rock stumbles out, the pinkness of his cheeks not just from his workout anymore. "If you would like that."

     "If I didn't like it I wouldn't have asked," I tell him, my focus actually on my sketch now as a smile crosses my face. What a goofball of a man. A sweet, kind, easily flustered, man.

                     ————————————

     Lee is kneeling in front of me, his eyes tracing the lines I've laid on the image I'm working on for him. Despite the constant distraction, I've made pretty good progress on the art piece.

     "Buttercup?"

     "Rocky?" I ask back, glancing at him before settling on my picture again.

     He stays quiet, still balled up as he kneels in front of me, eyes on the same thing mine are on. "I'm done working out."

     "Okay."

     "... I'm going to go shower now."

     "Okay."

     I can hear Lee's unasked question just as much as I can feel his eyes on my face. Nervousness waves off of him as he burns holes into me. His balled up-ness increasing as if shrinking himself will help his nerves. 

     "Hollyhock?"

     "I'm starting to think you're just making flowers up," I tease, setting my notebook down and focusing on Rocky.

     "No I'm not," he tells me, a soft smile on his face as he shakes his head, Lee's bangs skirting across his face as he moves. "I would... I'm done working out... and while I was working you said..." Lee's bushy eyebrows press together as he struggles over his words, face scrunching up as he looks at me.

     "I said what, Rock?" I ask, leaning forward to further tempt the words out of him. The tip of my nose is pressed against his, eyes locked on his obnoxiously round ones as I wait for the answer.

     "Ya... um...." Lee puffs his cheeks before letting out a long, slow breath, his cheeks quickly getting dusted again as he tries to work the words out. "You said... that we should... that, that we... shower?"

     "Shower," I repeat, nodding my head in agreement before I finish leaning forward. I brush my lips against a reddened Rock before climbing to my feet, set on grabbing the things I need for our shower.

     Rocky follows me around the room, the lost puppy-dog look in his eyes as he trails after me. He stays close but still makes sure there's space between us as if I'll change my mind if he gets too close. When I head towards the bathroom, I can sense Lee almost buzzing behind me.

     I stop in my tracks, hand still on the knob of the door. He bumps into me from my sudden stop, accidentally pushing me against the door as his hands fall to my hips. "Rocky?"

     "Honeysuckle?"

     "Are you sure you're okay with this? You seem nervous."

     "Ya, I'm just... I'm not used to seeing you naked in the light. We've only..." Rock's cheeks puff out, his blood rushing to them once again, bringing color to his skin. "... in the dark. I'm just nervous about you seeing me... and super excited to see you, of course! You're so pretty, I can't wait to see you like... that."

     "I'm excited too, Rock," I coo, gently pushing us off the wall. He calms down a bit, still buzzing but slightly less nervous as I open the bathroom door.

     Once we're in the bathroom I focus on myself, peeling off my clothes and using the big mirror to clean off my makeup. As I prep for the shower, I can hear Lee moving around the small space. The sound of his clothes shifting off, the shower being turned on, and him pacing as he waits for me to finish getting undressed.

     When I'm prepared, I turn towards the man waiting by the shower for me. I keep my eyes on his face, trying my best to keep Rock calm as I smile at him. A nervous smile is on his face, his eyes locked on me as well. "So... um... shower?" He asks, eyes glancing down my body before he panics. Lee turns away from me, cheeks pink and puffed out again as he focuses on testing the temperature of the water.

     I move slowly, gently laying my hand on his bare shoulder as I step over the edge of the bed, letting the water fall over my body as I climb in. I can feel his eyes jumping around me as I soak my hair in the water, the streams coating my body as I soak in the heat of it. "You are beautiful, Violet. The most beautiful person I have ever seen."

     "Thank you, Rock. You're very handsome too," I compliment back, letting my eyes scan down his body quickly before settling them on his face again. "Are you going to get in with me?"

     "Oh! Ya, it's not much of a shower together if we're not together, huh?" He asks, rubbing his neck as his eyes skirt around the space of the tub. Lee is as red as a rose petal by the time his focus settles on me again. "Okay, I'm getting in now."

     "Take your time," I tell him, leaning forward to grab his shampoo bottle.

     Rocky stands outside of the shower for another beat or two before he climbs in, his hands jumpy as they rest on my waist. "You are beautiful, I told you that right?"

     "Yes, you did," I remind him, letting the shampoo rest in my hair as my hands jump up to his bowl cut. I gently dip Lee's head down, playing with the strands as the water soaks into them.

     His arms tighten around me, shifting me an inch or two closer, but not enough for me to be pressed against him. Rocky's breaths are uneven as he focuses on my chest, not having much room to look anywhere else as I work on washing his hair. "Your... um... chest is very luscious."

     "I'm glad you think so," I answer, keeping my fingertips gentle as I work the soap out of his hair. "Rocky?"

     "Anemone?"

     "I need you to move backward a bit so I can rinse my hair too."

     "Oh... Oh! Right, of course!" He almost shouts, his hands shaky as he slides them up my sides a bit. Rock changes his mind, moving them back to my waist as he slowly moves backward, gently pulling me forward so I can rinse my hair. "Crocus?"

     "Yes?" I hum, flipping my head back out once I'm sure all the soap is out of my hair.

     "I want to touch you."

     "Then touch me. I'm alright with it, Rocky. You can touch me wherever you want."

     "Really?"

     "Really," I repeat, resting my hands on his shoulders. I dip forward, brushing a soft kiss to his lips before I turn back to finish my shower.

     A small noise escapes Lee, his fingers tightening on my waist for a second. Once he settles himself down, his hands slowly start to wander, pawing at different parts of me. They play with my waist, jumping to my arms before falling to my thighs. They ghost over my chest, fingertips shaky before he settles on my legs again. "You are the prettiest flower in the world."

     "And you're the hottest workout nut in the world."

     "Really?"

     "Really."