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aquaticalay · 5 years ago

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F.R.I.D.A.Y. I'm in Love (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: While singing 'Friday, I'm in love' by The Cure in the kitchen to yourself, a certain AI thinks you're talking to her. She tells you something you didn't know, and decides to play matchmaker on Christmas morning, because why not?

Genre: christmas fluff :)

Word count: 2.5k

Song: Friday, I'm in Love by The Cure

Note: Merry Xmas! This is my last fic before vacation! This is also my first one shot in a while. Hope you like it!!

You were the first one awake at the compound, but that wasn't anything out of the usual. You always wake up at least half an hour earlier than anybody else in the compound without fail, every single day. It was simply an old habit you can't seem to get rid of, no matter how tired you were or how late you slept the night before.

The only thing that made a difference was that it's the day before christmas. Since you and Bucky were the only people with no family to celebrate it with, the two of you stayed behind to keep an eye on the compound. You had somehow convinced Bucky to agree on helping you set up decorations today. Besides, you also need help setting up the realistic-looking artificial pine tree at the corner of the common room. You already had a vision: green, white, and red ribbons filling up the ceiling and fairy lights as far as the eye can see.

But that was your plan for later in the afternoon. Right now, the sun had just barely began to rise.

You made your way to the kitchen, thinking of making pancakes for breakfast. You hummed a tune as you opened the cupboards for a pan and ingredients. You eyeballed the flour and sugar, sifted them in a bowl and went to the fridge to get the rest of the contents needed.

Lost in your own world, the tunes you hummed turned into cohesive words, an actual song that you had been listening to lately and can't seem to get out of your head.

"I don't care if Monday's blue," you sang, cracking the eggs, making sure the shell stayed out of the batter, "Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too."

You poured the milk and butter, "Thursday, I don't care about you," you grabbed a whisk and pretended it was a microphone, "It's Friday, I'm in love."

"May I guess with who?" FRIDAY quipped suddenly.

You yelped in shock and dropped the whisk into the batter, some of it splattering to your shirt and face. Just a little, but enough to piss you off.

"What?" You asked, slightly annoyed.

"You told me you were in love," you heard the AI say through the built in speakers of the room, "may I guess with who?".

You let out a lighthearted laugh, "First of all, it's just a song," you rolled your eyes with a smile, amused by the misunderstanding of the supposedly smart AI. "Secondly," you continued, "I am not in love with anybody at the moment."

FRIDAY then said, in a matter-of-factly manner, "But you are."

Furrowing your eyebrows, annoyed, you stubbornly told her, "No, I'm not."

"You are," the AI insisted, and before you can deny it once again, she told you, "You show all physical and hormonal signs of being in love— increased levels of dopamine, adrenaline, and norepinephrine, increased heart rate, and dilated pupils— in the presence of Sergeant James Barnes."

Your mind stopped just enough to catch up with what FRIDAY. was telling you.

"What?" You asked, flustered, as blood rushed to your cheeks, "No!"

"It's true," said the AI calmly, then displayed a panel of hologram on the island kitchen, usually used for mission briefings— your vitals, including your hormone levels. "These are your average body scans whenever you are in the same room as Sergeant Barnes," she said.

"That's enough, Friday!" you exclaimed, almost squeaking, embarrassed. She then took down the hologram, to your relief.

You admit, you have always been fond of Bucky, and dare you say, quite attached to him, but it never occurred to you that you loved him, mostly because everytime you even thought of the four-letter terrifying word, you pushed it to the deepest, darkest corner of your mind, lock it in a glass box and throw away the key, never to be seen again. The subject of love terrifies you, though the thought of being romantically involved with Bucky did give you a certain feeling of satisfaction and comfort, and maybe, just maybe, hope of it being able to work out.

Oops, there's the thought again.

Time to bury it six feet underground.

"In case you're curious, Sergeant Barnes also—" the AI started, but you shushed her furiously, "Fri, I don't want to hear it."

"But—" she began, but you cut her off again, "Please don't."

Sensing your discomfort, she stopped saying whatever she was about to say.

You continued to make your pancakes in peace, if there was ever any.

You hummed the tune of the same song, careful not to say the actual words to it. You turned on the stove an put a frying pan on it measuring your batter out for an even and fluffy pancake.

The automatic door opened, and Bucky entered the room, yawning. He was wearing a grey shirt and shorts. As he smelled the sweet aroma of the batter cooking, his gaze turned to you.

"Mornin' doll," he smiled lazily, greeting you. He seemed to be in an especially good mood today. Ever since you joined almost a year ago, he had given you the nickname, and you adapted to it quickly.

"Morning, Buck," you hummed, flipping the pancakes. Bucky walked towards you and took in the smell exaggeratingly. "Hope you made some for me."

You chuckled, "Of course."

You stacked the first three pancakes on an empty plate and handed it to Bucky, who gave you a chaste kiss on the side of your head.

This type of casual affection has been going on for a while now, a little over five months. He'd kiss you on the cheeks or forehead whenever he said thank you, hello, or goodbye. You'd also cuddle against him on movie nights and lean on his shoulder while sitting on the dinner table, but neither of you ever spoke about it. You never wanted to think much about these flirtatious exchanges. You assumed this was just who he was, and you were just playing his game. He was a ladies' man in the 40s, after all, and you were just all-all round playful person.

You stacked your own pancakes and turned off the stove.

You sat next to Bucky on the couch, who was currently pouring a shit ton of maple syrup on his pancakes, squeezing the bottle with his metal arm.

You chuckled at his behaviour, and he raised his eyebrows at you.

"What are you laughing at?" He tried to pretend to be serious, but he can't help but show a hint of a grin on his adorable face.

"Nothing," you shook your head playfully and started eating the sugar-filled breakfast.

Deciding it was too quiet, Bucky decided to ask FRIDAY a favor. "Friday," Bucky called, "play some music, please."

FRIDAY complied almost immediately, and the tune of the song she played was too familiar.

Your cheeks turned bright red in a matter of seconds. Why would she play that?

"I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday, too

Thursday I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love"

Bucky stuffed pancakes in his mouth as he listened to the song, "I've never heard this song before," he mentioned, his head moving subtly to the tempo of the song, "It's nice."

"Uh, yeah," you managed to nervously blurt out.

Bucky turned his head to you, "You cold, doll?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"No, why?"

"You're red," he pointed out worriedly, "Are you sure you're not sick?"

"No, I'm just—" you started, trying to find an excuse, but nothing comes to mind. You couldn't tell him you're embarrassed, and you already told him you weren't cold, "—I don't know."

As the song continued playing, Bucky placed the back of his hand on your forehead to check for a fever, but he was met with a normal, cool skin. He tried not to think too much about it. He shrugged and told you, "Just let me know if you feel unwell, okay? I know where Scott keeps his emergency cold medicine."

You managed a nod, and tried to distract yourself by eating your pancakes.

You started to feel relief wash over you as the song came to an end, but when it did end, it started to play again, as if FRIDAY had it on loop.

"Weird," Bucky quipped.

"Yeah, weird," you said, a little quieter than usual, "Friday, please play another song," you said, but Bucky cut you off, "No, I want to listen to it again," he said, "One more time? I really like it."

You sunk into your seat, having forced to suffer through this song again.

That afternoon, Bucky helped you set up the ribbons and lights, and now he was helping you with the tree ornaments.

The time you spent together were spent in laughter and joy, playfully teasing each other. He told you a lot about his old family traditions, how his little sister Rebecca and him would use their spare money to get their mother a gift every year. In return, you made him hot chocolate, made from your grandma's special recipe.

"Bucky," you called, "give me a boost so I can get the star on top of the tree."

You showed him the star. It was brilliant red. He chuckled to himself, wondering if you intentionally got it to match his old logo.

Without warning, he grabbed your waist, and spun you around playfully. You yelped in shock, steadying yourself by putting a hand on his shoulder. You laughed a little, "The tree, Buck," you reminded him, and he chuckled, rolling his eyes. "okay, okay."

You placed the star on top, and he set you down gently. You were facing him, and for a split second, you nose touched his and you were looking straight into his icy orbs.

You looked away, pretending it didn't happen.

"Help me with the ribbons," you quipped. Bucky grabbed the box full of colorful decorations. "Okay," he replied. You weren't sure, but you could've sworn he sounded a little bit disappointed.

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree, and it was all fun and games until Bucky started humming 'Friday, I'm in love,' under his breath, a song that seems to be stuck in his head.

You and Bucky fell asleep on the couch after a Christmas movie marathon. You woke up in the same position you fell asleep: cuddled up against Bucky, you head on his shoulder and his human arm wrapped contently around your waist. You adjusted your eyes to the light coming in from the big glass windows, and tugged on Bucky's side, "wake up."

He groaned a little, his eyes blinking to life.

"Merry Christmas," you smiled, still leaning your head on his shoulder, too lazy to get up.

"Merry Christmas, doll," he replied, a sleepy but sincere smile on his face.

You mustered enough energy to look at the Christmas tree, and was shocked to see one small red box under the tree, decorated with a fittingly small green bow. It was empty the last time you saw it.

"Did you–" you turned to Bucky, who nodded right away, "How?" You asked curiously.

"I slipped it there before we started the movie," he admitted, a slightly rosy color on his cheeks.

"Is that for me?" You asked, and he nodded.

"I- I've got a present for you in my room," you told him, half-way panicked that you've forgotten his present in your quarters.

Rushing out of the common room, Bucky watched you as a sigh left his lips.

He found himself humming the song he heard yesterday again. He took the present from under the tree to give it to you first hand, then walked to the island kitchen to get some water. He doesn't remember all the words, except the ones at the very end of the chorus.

He mumbled a string of noises, but lightly sang the last part in his best singing voice, "Friday, I'm in love."

"I know," Friday said through the speakers. It surprised Bucky, but he didn't show it. Sitting down on the bar stool of the island, Bucky asked, "What?"

"I know you're in love, Sergeant Barnes," the AI said.

Bucky let a heavy breath out. Friday was right. He was in love. With you. "How did you know?"

"Your physical and hormonal body scans when you're around Miss (Y/n)."

Bucky only chuckled dryly. It was nothing he didn't already know, "Too bad she doesn't feel the same, huh?"

"Actually—" the AI started, but suddenly stopped when you rushed back in the room, a heavy box decorated with a patterned white wrapper in your arms. It was huge compared to the gift he got you. You put on the marble countertop and climbed on the stool next to his.

"Here," you said excitedly, "open it!"

Your excitement was contagious. He gave you a hearty laugh and ripped the wrapping paper. When he was finished, he realized what it was. A record player.

"Wow, (Y/n)," he said, twinkle in his eyes. He raised it so he could see it better, "I- thank you."

"You've been telling me about how you used to listen to music," you told him, "So I got you a more modern one."

"Your turn," Bucky said, giving you your present.

It wasn't wrapped, it was just a red box with a bow. You opened it and you looked to him for explanation.

It was a necklace with a dark silver star pendant.

"It's beautiful," you sighed, admiring the jewelry, "Thank you."

He gently took the necklace in his fingers, and looped it behind your neck, hooking it so now you were wearing it.

"I asked Shuri to make it from the scrap vibranium used to make my metal arm," he told you, a warm and loving smile on his mouth, "So you can have a piece of me with you."

Suddenly, you wondered if FRIDAY was right about you being in love with him.

"Ahem," said a human-like voice from the ceiling. It was FRIDAY, calling so you would look up.

The two of you saw a holographic mistletoe from the projector above you.

Damn, FRIDAY.

You smiled. It was a good excuse to kiss him, right? Wasn't that the rules of the mistletoe?

You reached up a little to press a short but sweet kiss on his lips, catching him off-guard.

"I-" Bucky turned beet red, "can you do that again please?"

Pleasantly surprised, you nod as you let him caress your cheeks, and pull you in for a longer kiss, his lips moving against yours in sync, like you were pieces of a puzzle. You melted into his arms and laid a hand on his thigh for support.

"I love you," Bucky said as he pulled away. Wait, he thought to himself, I love you?!

He meant to say merry christmas!

In his mind, you only kissed him because of his mistletoe. He was seconds away from apologizing, but then a content sigh left your lips, "I love you, too," you admitted shyly

He looked at you with a loving look that has always been there, yet you've only noticed it now. His thumb stroke your cheek softly, the contrast of metal and flesh strangely comforting.

"What is it?" You asked.

He cracked a smile. "My dad used to spend christmas morning with my ma," he said, "She told me one day I'd find someone to spend it, too."

"Would she have approved of me?" You asked, curiosity laced im you silky voice.

"I swear to god she'd love you," he cupped both your cheek and pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose, "Merry Christmas, doll."

"Merry Christmas, James."

You made an internal note to self to thank FRIDAY later.

-end.

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scgdoeswhat · 6 years ago

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Scarred for Life - Beckett x Clarette (F!MC)

Summary: Beckett and Clarette have an entire afternoon to themselves… or so they think.

Rating: NSFW

Words: 1632

Author’s Notes: This takes place in their second year at Penderghast! I fully blame @lady-dianelewis for prompting me to do a flash fic challenge that turned into this. Beckett doesn’t belong to me (unfortunately), but the story does. No Beta used.

Sorry if the “Read More” link isn’t working. It’s Tumblr’s fault, not mine!

Tag List: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @grungeisntmything @friendlylilshipper @felmasri @numberonepoetryexpert @hellomynameisdeviblaire @beckettbaguette @siegrrun @choicesthatplayyou @retroangxl @askdana @50shadesofgrayx @darley1101 @kamybelen-blog @herdecisions @artchoicesreblog @teenytinymagician @choicesfannatalie @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @abigailpoe @flyawayboo @brightpinkpeppercorn @gardeningourmet @harringtons-honey @manateemilk @queenodysseia @thatcatlady0716 @divergentofhogwarts @pottershat @topsyturvy-dream @choicesyouplayandmore @zeniamiii @never-neverland @drakewalkerfantasy @syltti78 @elementalistshoe @maxwellsquidsuit @sleepingpillcorporation @tabithacarlisle @ludextruction @pbmychoices

Please let me know if you want to be tagged/removed on future fics and I’ll tag anyone I may have missed in the comments. Thank you!

"Clarette, the door’s locked, right?" Beckett asked while he pinned her against the wall, his mouth finding the sensitive spot on her neck right under her ear. His left hand trailed over the curve of her breast and down her side, before squeezing her ass as he pulled her closer to his larger frame.

Clarette moaned as she felt him against her, his length pressing into her stomach. "Yes, I locked it. Besides, Shreya has classes and Atlas is training so we have the afternoon free here."

She pressed her lips to his as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He carried her to bed, the mattress sinking under their weight as his body covered hers.

Beckett made quick work of their clothes, the feel of her bare skin against his own lighting his blood ablaze. Leaning down, he traced the hollow of her neck with his tongue, eliciting a purr from her throat.

"You know, we could've always gone back to your room if you wanted to be sure," she mused.

He replied by kissing her hard, his hand slipping in between her legs as he shoved two fingers into her.

She broke the kiss, her head falling back on the pillow as her eyes shut in ecstasy. A strangled noise escaped her as he pumped his fingers in and out of her.

"My room's further and I couldn't wait to be in you," he growled in her ear. He removed his hand, licking his fingers as he stared into her chocolate orbs.

She whimpered, biting her lip, her gaze flitting to his mouth and then back to his eyes. Seeing him take such control turned her on to no end, the slickness at her apex evidence of her excitement.

Hooking an arm under her leg, he thrust into her long and deep, her pussy fitting him like a glove. A satisfied groan left him as he sheathed himself fully in her, the sound of his name being screamed from her lips an absolute melody to his ears.

Clarette snaked her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a hard kiss as their tongues fought for dominance. She found herself giving in as he pulled out, only to rock forward again, slamming his hard cock into her. Her nails dug into his back as she held on for dear life, his pace unforgiving.

Feeling his release nearing, Beckett slowed his tempo, not wanting to come until she did. He kissed her languidly, his strokes hitting her spot perfectly as he raised her other leg to adjust his angle. Their eyes connected as he moved within her, their panting breaths mingling as he picked up his rhythm, her hips meeting his every movement.

Sounds of pleasure filled the air as they became one. Beckett and Clarette were lost in a blissful oblivion and completely unaware of anything outside themselves. The only thing that existed in the entire world at that moment were each other.

Not once did the creak of the door enter their consciousness, even though it had been locked.

“Hey Clarette, I didn't know you were - OH GOD, MY EYES. I DID NOT NEED TO SEE YOU FUCKING MY SISTER!!” Atlas shrieked, her voice registering too late.

Beckett nearly fell off the bed as he rolled off Clarette, catching himself at the last minute. His whole body turned red as he buried his head in her shoulder in utter embarrassment.

Clarette flung the sheet over them, instant mortification causing the lightbulbs in the chandelier to burst. Her hand flew upward and covered her profile as she tried to hide in Beckett’s hair, all the while muttering obscenities to no one in particular.

Atlas closed her eyes as she threw a hand over her face, turning around as fast as she had come in. She bumped into the wall before making a hasty exit out of the bedroom, shutting the door with such force that it didn’t stay closed. The common room door slammed seconds later, leaving the couple all alone.

After a few moments, Beckett lifted his head and groaned. “I thought you said you locked the door.”

“I did! I don't know how she could've opened it.”

“I cannot believe she walked in on us.” Getting up, he put his boxer briefs on before inspecting and closing the door. His face crinkled as he examined the ill-fitting door knob. “Clarette?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever get the door knob fixed from that first night we were... together?”

Her eyes widened. “From last year? When you popped it off the door?”

A sheepish expression crossed his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“I put it back with some metal magick but I don’t think it ever got looked at.”

“Well, that explains why she barged in here,” he said resolutely, running a hand through his hair.

“This is going to be fun facing her later.” Clarette chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. “On the bright side, at least now we can finish what we started.” She slid the sheet down, exposing her body to Beckett.

“You may have a point,” he walked back to bed, losing his underwear along the way. Beckett leaned over and kissed her deeply, a moan emanating from deep within him. “I do make it a priority to complete the task at hand,” he murmured against her lips. “But this time, I can be thorough to make sure I hit all the right spots.”

She giggled as he descended upon her once more, this time the complete opposite of their frenzied pace from earlier. They made love the rest of the afternoon, uninterrupted.

Two days later…

Beckett and Clarette approached the table that the other girls of Motley Crue were eating lunch at, sitting down in the empty seats that were saved. He placed an arm around her shoulder, planting a quick kiss on the side of her head.

Atlas blanched at the sight of her twin and boyfriend, a frown appearing instantaneously. She pushed her chair back, a loud screech echoing through the dining hall as she hurriedly jumped up from the table, not sparing a second glance at the couple in question while exiting the room.

Shreya exchanged looks with Aster, a concerned expression on her face. “Clarette, is everything alright with you and Atlas? She’s been very touchy whenever anyone’s brought you up… or Beckett for that matter.”

Clarette smiled sunnily, not giving a hint of anything wrong. “Everything’s fine! Still adjusting to this whole ‘I have a twin’ thing, I guess! And she’s probably sick of all the PDA, right, B?”

Beckett flushed, clearing his throat. “That must be it, nothing more.” He took a quick sip of his water, instead concerning himself with the stained-glass windows rather than the curious glances from the table.

Aster branched out spontaneously, sensing the odd behavior from both. She gasped and her jaw fell, a rosy bloom tinting her green skin while the flowers in her hair stood at attention. Breaking out of her trance, she peeked at Clarette, trying to pick her next words carefully. “Hmmm, Clarette, did you ever notice how many trees are outside your window?” She asked subtly.

Clarette’s eyebrows raised in surprise, thankful that she was the only one privy to the knowledge of how Aster’s branching abilities worked. “No, I wasn’t, but thanks for letting me know.”

The wood nymph’s eyes quickly shot to Beckett before returning to the Sun-Att. “You might want to talk to your sister, by the way,” Aster looked at her imploringly. She branched out once more. “She’s down by the lake.”

“Got it! I’ll go find her right now.” Clarette said her goodbyes to the table before kissing Beckett on the cheek, rushing out to find her twin. Bounding across campus, she spotted her sister pacing along the shoreline, racing down to her.

“Atlas, I - ”

“Clarette, no.” The platinum haired twin twirled on her heel and held up her hand, her face scrunching up. “I don't want to hear it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “How hard is it to lock the fucking door?! All I see now is Beckett’s pale, pasty ass and you… GAH. I NEED BRAIN BLEACH!” A queasy look crossed her features.

“… But he does have a great ass, doesn’t he?” Clarette grinned shamelessly.

“You are absolutely impossible, you know that?” Atlas cracked a smile, shaking her head. “I’m embarrassed to be related to you.”

Clarette hugged her sister tightly. “You know you love me, sis!”

“That’s debatable right now.” She squirmed out of her sister’s grasp, pointing a finger at her. “And don’t touch me while I still have that damned visual of you and Harrington in my head.”

The brunette tried to hook arms with her, only for Atlas to nimbly dodge her attempts, leaving both cackling and wheezing with effort. “Just to let you know, I did lock the door. It never got fixed, though.”

The Moon-Att raised her eyebrow suspiciously. “Fixed from what?”

Her sister’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, last year after the championship party when Beckett and I first slept together – “

“You know what? I don’t need to know.” She patted her sibling on the shoulder. “Good job, Clarette. Out of all the things I’ve seen through the years of running from Raife and yet it’s you who manages to have me shrieking with something so gross.”

“You should feel lucky that I haven’t gone into detail with what he can do with his tongue!” Clarette snorted with laughter in response, successfully hooking arms with Atlas as they started the trek back to the main building. “Then I’d really leave you scarred for life!”

#beckett harrington #beckett x mc #the elementalists #beckett harrington fanfic #the elementalists fanfic #beckett harrington x mc #playchoices #beckett harrington fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #atlas #shreya mistry #aster #te atlas #te aster #beckett x clarette #scg writes #scg cookies

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 5 years ago

Note

nsfw questions for wolffe cody and fives - whichever questions you feel like answering bc I want to know the answers to all of them but that might be too much. ty!! (-ls)

Sorry for taking so long, it’s just SO many questions! But i did everything! N*FW/Lemon under the cut!

Oh if you like my writing, pls consider buying me a coffe!

Cody andFives (+Wolffe as a bonus)

Tie me, Bite me: Name a kink.

Cody: dominating/public sex

Fives: body worship (to have his body worshipped, that is)/ teasing (his partner, he likes to drive them crazy )

Wolffe: biting / rough sex

That’s Naughty: Name something you would want to try in bed, but won’t.

Cody: Having sex in a non-secluded area. Cody likes to play with the idea of being seen, butall in a calculated manner. Actually getting caught is not in his plans – whoever catches wouldn’t be able to consent, and he doesn’t want to expose himself or his partner either. But ugh, he fantasizes about it.

Fives: Being talked down to. The idea turns him on to a degree, but the dehumanizing treatment from Kamino made him iffy at the thought in the same measure. He feels like he could maybe try it with a partner with whom he feels really comfortable with, but he’s not sure.

Wolffe: Going really hardcore. Leaving marks all over his partner, biting them to the point of drawing blood and fucking them roughlyuntil they can hardly even think about walking anytime soon. Wolffe cares too much about his partners to go this hard though, and he would need to trust them enough to know they would use their safeword whenever it became too much. He has his fun roughing them up and pampering them with lots of aftercare anyway,so why change what’s working?

That’s Nice: Name something you want to try in bed and will.

Cody: Definitely adding toys to the play. He wonders if he can convince his partner to have a vibrator in them while he has the remote to make it go faster/harder while they’re out in public. Also, having his partner wear a cute collar.

Fives: He thinks rope play will probably be pretty damn fun. Give him plenty of power totease his partner into insanity while they can do nothing but whimper and beg for him. Oh yeah, he’s definitely getting some rope in 501st blue.

Wolffe: He will never – ever – admit to being curious about the idea of handcuffing his partner. Nope, nope. I guess it’ll be up to them to find that out. But moons, he would love that.

Self Torture: What do you like to masturbate to?

Cody: The thought of fucking someone against a window. In his imagination, there is norisk of getting caught for real, so… ;)

Fives: the sight of his moaning, quivering partner as they ache for him in bed. If he’s alone, then… holoporn videos. Boy likes to have visual stimulation.

Wolffe: he likes to think of the very few seconds before he comes, and the sight of the aftermath of sex on his partner – their skin reddened from spanking and his come trickling down between their thighs. Hmmm.

Wine and Dine: Is it important to have a nice prelude before having relations?

Cody: oh yes. Especially if it can include vivid descriptions of what he’s willing to do tohis parner while they’re still innocently dining out. He can’t get enough of the sight of them blushing and biting their lip. Makes the anticipation almost unbearable.

Fives: Yes! A lovely date night really sets the mood. Also, this boy talks. He loves to describe everything he’s doing and feeling even during foreplay, and he will love if his partner is willing to do the same. Also, he can just kiss for hours,and he’s a sucker for having his partner on his lap while they kiss.

Wolffe: Of course. A nice night out – or in, with a movie, popcorn and a blanket. Lots of foreplay, not only to set the mood but also to pepper his lover with kisses and set some ground rules – what is okay and what isn’t, agreeing on a safeword, where he likes to be touched, where he doesn’t, etc. Everything he can do to get his partner to feel comfortable and cared for.

Sweet Kisses: Are you a good kisser?

Cody: Yes he is. He especially enjoys kissing his partner between scenes where he’s being particularly dominant, so that he can shift from being bossy/cold to being affectionate and loving. Expect long, deep kisses that make you breathless.

Fives: As mentioned before, this boy loves kissing. He is a very playful kisser, so beready for lots of playful biting on your lips and kitten licks over your neck. He likes to press himself hard against his lover and touch them while he kisses them – squeezing their ass and whispering the most delightful filth close totheir ear. He is particularly proud to being able to get them off on occasion just by taking his sweet time kissing them and rubbing himself against their crotch.

Wolffe: He is! His kisses are not at all restricted to your lips though. He loves kissing his lover’s body, especially if he has their permission to leave marks on them. Expect a map of hickeys and bites all over your back and shoulders – he keeps the gentler kisses to your neck so that you won’t end up covered in visible love bruises. When it comes to kissing on the lips, he likes his partner to be more active; suck on his lower lip and give him lots of tongue to make him melt against you.

Tasty: Chocolate? Whipped cream? Do you use food with sex?

Cody: It’snot his thing, really. Cody thinks food and sex don’t really go well together.

Fives:Whipped cream sounds like fun. When Jesse gives him the idea earlier, Fivesgets home the very same day with two cans of it and a wicked grin to hispartner. He doesn’t have a preference regarding who gets to have some creamover their skin and who gets to lick the other clean – he just wanna play.

Two’s acrowd and three’s a party!: Have you participated in a threesome? Any more than three? Would you beinterested in inviting more people?

Cody: oh,moons, someone to watch him and his partner in action, and join them if they want to. Now that’s a dream come true. Hewould check with his partner first to make sure they’re ok with it but, ohhh,yes. Threesome? Foursome? Why not? He can even add some toys to this party. Justthinking about it makes him horny.

Fives: Heckyes, it sounds like fun. He would love to have more people to play with, and towatch his partner with them. More people to kiss and touch and fu-

Wolffe: He’snot at all interested in bringing another person to his bed, unless it’ssomeone both him and his partner know and trust very much. Still, it’s strange.He’s so used to pouring all his attention to his lover – how to share it andnot make anyone jealous or uncomfortable? He needs some time to think this through.

Swinger: Ever traded partners before?

Cody: If it’speople he knows and trust, why not? It’s a wild thought, fucking someone else’spartner, it’s really arousing for that matter. Sign him up.

Fives:Teasing someone else’s partner until they are begging for him? Oh, hells yes!

Wolffe:Having sex with someone else’s partner would feel weird for him – even if theyagreed with it, he would feel like they were cheating. And having someone elsefuck his partner? No, thanks.

BJ: Swallow or spit? What do youprefer?

Cody: Havinghis partner swallow is one of his favorite “punishments” for when they’remisbehaving. Personally, Cody prefers to spit. He’s not very fond of the aftertaste.

Fives: Ohhplease swallow, it’ll drive him crazy. Fives enjoys swallowing as well, so herelates to the pleasure of watching his partner swallow too.

Wolffe:Making sure his partner has previously agreed to, Wolffe like to not give themmuch of a choice in the matter, having them deepthroat him right before heorgasms and watching them swallow down. Personally, he likes to swallow too.

PornCollection: Do youwatch porn? Do you make your own porn?

Cody: Hnnnng,if his partner agrees to being filmed it’s such a turn on to make his own porn.He keeps the video just to rewatch and jerk off once before deleting it – he doesn’twant to take risks keeping it around and having someone find it.

Fives: Hewatches porn, yes, mainly when he masturbates or when he wants to set the moodin a special night and give his partner some ideas; “c’mooon, that new positionlooks like fun! ;)”

Wolffe: Notreally his thing. It looks all too fake in his opinion. Also, none of those “roughsex” videos show any sort of aftercare afterwards. Ugh.

Vibrator: Use any toys? Have a favorite?

Cody: Remotecontrol vibrators. They’re so much fun, and getting caught risk-free! Also,collars and paddles. Gotta discipline his naughty lover, doesn’t he?

Fives: ropeharnesses look lovely on his partner, do they count as toys?

Wolffe: Not afan of toys, except for maybe the handcuffs.

Tempo: Sweet and slow or hard and fast?

Cody: It’s usuallya buildup, sweet and slow first, and when his partner “earns it” they might getsome nice hard and fast. He’s more fond of the sweet and slow bit though.

Fives: whatbetter way to get them aching for more than sweet and slow? If they want thingsto go faster, they better wrap their legs around his waist or straddle him andtake charge ;)

Wolffe: Hardand fast, though he’ll most likely make sure to have his partner climax atleast twice, so it’s not that fast after all. He can give all the sweet andslow loving during aftercare.

SecretLover: Describesomeone you lust after. No names!

Cody: Someonebossy who carries themself with a serious, stern posture. The thought ofreducing them to a babbling, begging mess while a vibrator hums inside them turnshim on so much.

Fives:Someone playful and funny, that will enjoy being played with and will groan infrustration while he pushes them closer to the edge.

Wolffe:Someone serious whom he can trust to respect his limits and their own and willknow better than to overdue themselves. Someone he can trust enough to let thembe in charge of safewording out when things become too much.

WashingMachine: Ever do itin a weird place before?

Cody: Abathroom stall at the 79’s. Not ideally comfortable, but really arousing.

Fives: A civilian’s home during a relief mission. They were one of thepeople in charge of receiving the supplies sent by the republic and one thingled to another. It was really fun.

Wolffe: His office desk; the desk ended up being pushed 3 feet ahead fromwhere it used to be during the, um, interaction, and he will not provide anyfurther details on the matter.

Sheets: Are silk sheets sexy?

Cody: Yes.

Fives: Tooslippery, he can’t get a footing. What’s up with those things anyway?

Wolffe: Hedoesn’t care about what are the sheets made of, unless this means it’s easierto wash come off of them.

ThongSong: Do you likesexy lingerie?

Cody: yes! Especiallycorsets and garter belts. They look so sexy…

Fives: he’s reallyinto lace, especially the very sheer variety that lets him see everythingdespite his lover being still dressed.

Wolffe: yes,especially when his lover wears them without letting him know. Nothing hotterthan undressing them to be met with a tiny thong and lacy bra.

Flavor: What’s your orientation?

Cody: Bi/Pan

Fives: Bi/Pan

Wolffe:Bi/Pan

(we’re in my headcanoncity, bitch, and everyone’s bi/pan here)

Turn On: Name a turn on.

Cody: Havinghis partner strip for him.

Fives: Watchinghis partner masturbate. Also, getting pegged, but you didn’t hear it from him.

Wolffe:Making his partner come right before he comes too.

Turn Off: Name a turn off.

Cody: Worktalk. He’s “commander cody” all day long, and he’s in charge of the whole clonearmy. When he’s in bed, he just wants to be Cody.

Fives: Quickies.He likes to take his time.

Wolffe: Don’tstare at his scar, don’t bring it up. He doesn’t like to think about it, muchless remember how he got it.

Frequency: How many times do you haverelations in a week?

Cody:Ideally, every other day. Since he’s always busy during work days, he can onlyget some on weekends. He’s very salty over this.

Fives:Ideally, every day. Ugh, when will this stupid war be over so that he can meethis lover every day at home?

Wolffe: Everyother day would be nice, but he doesn’t mind waiting for the weekend. Makes himeven more horny, and the release more intense.

Heart andSoul: Is loveimportant when you have sex?

Cody: Hesupposes it makes a difference, yes. Especially because you can get to knoweach other better and make sure to do everything your partner likes to makethem happy.

Fives: Yes. Well,if not love, at least some kind of connection. To know what they like, what aretheir hobbies, who they are, etc. He thinks it’s important to see his partner –and to be seen – as an individual, not just some pretty face.

Wolffe: Definitely.He almost exclusively sleeps with people he’s been dating, or at least people hasknown for a while. Sex feels very vulnerable to him, and he won’t allow thisopening to just anyone.

GoodMorning: Do youpartake in morning sex?

Cody: yes,especially to reward his partner for their lovely performance on the previousnight.

Fives: he’sreally lazy in the morning, so maybe not intercourse itself, but he wouldn’tmind at all giving some sweet oral to his lover under the blankets.

Wolffe: yes,particularly some very slow, sweet and gentle sex. Less hair-pulling and moreneck nuzzling. Hmm.

FrenchMaid: Do youroleplay in bed?

Cody: Heckyes. He loves the role of ‘master’ so that he can boss around his partner. Healso loves to have them act coy and innocent to make it all more enticing.

Fives: Hewouldn’t oppose to that at all. Sounds like fun.

Wolffe: He’snever done it, but if his partner wants to, he’ll be up for it.

Mood: How do you create the mood?Favorite atmosphere?

Cody: Afterdining and chatting and lots of kissing, moving up to the bedroom and dimmingthe lights usually set the mood, but Cody really enjoys asking in a whisper ifhis partner has been “bad”.

Fives: justwatching some holos after dinner and then pulling his lover over his lap andkissing them passionately over and over until they can’t keep their hands offeach other.

Wolffe:usually when he kisses his partner and looks into his eyes saying “I want you”in a growled whisper it’s more than enough to get the mood going.

Takeout: Do you and your partner “eat out”often?

Cody: yesss,especially when he wants to reward them for behaving nicely. Also, there’snothing better to prep them for penetration than some good oral.

Fives: 69,anyone? To him, there are few things as delicious as eating out a lover whilethey do the same to you. Also, as Cody said fingering + oral are great ways toprep your partner, and so far he’s gotten nothing but compliments over the wayhis goatee feels against his partner’s crotch.

Wolffe: yes, paired with some love bites to their inner thighs. Helikes to keep his shaving up to date because he likes to eat them out for along time, and he doesn’t want to give them stubble burns down there.

TrouserSnake: Does sizematter? Is it big?

Cody:Honestly, he doesn’t think it matters, not any more than how ones uses it (and howthey use their hands, and their voice, etc.). It is, by most standards, on thelarger side – the original blessed them with some nice genes when it comes to that.

Fives: Maybe?He does get some nice compliments on his girth. No need to give any additionaldetails here, since Cody said it all: Jango’s genetic material came with thatbonus.

Wolffe: Itdoesn’t matter to him, especially since he can make his partner come with hishands alone. He’s glad about, hm, his size though, because it sure isentertaining – and very arousing – to watch his partner struggling a bit to getall of him in their mouth.

Meow: Shaved or natural?

Cody: shaved.He thinks it looks cleaner and sexier.

Fives:trimmed. He’s too lazy to shave, but he doesn’t want to look like he doesn’tcare.

Wolffe: hedoesn’t mind shaving if his partner says they like it better that way, but mostof the time he keeps it loosely trimmed. It’s so annoying to keep having toshave it over and over.

Gossip: Do you sleep and tell?

Cody: He doeslike to share his stories with Rex or Fox, but he will omit any details aboutwho his partner was or what they looked like. He doesn’t want them to end inthe GAR gossip mill, that’d be rude and wrong.

Fives: Nope.He lets the hickeys on his neck do the talking, and he’ll have the mostannoying smug face for the rest of the day.

Wolffe: No.These are private matters, and no one needs to know about them. He’s not astarry-eyed shiny anymore.

FirstTime: Who was yourfirst time with?

Cody: Acharming civilian he met at a night out with his troopers. They were verygentle, which was great because Cody was trying to pretend not to be nervousabout it.

Fives: Acivilian he would meet at the 79’s every other weekend to talk, dance and makeout with. One day they asked him if they’d like to go to their place, and whyin the moons would he say no? By the time they got there, he was the oppositeof his cocky, talky self: all shy and asking for guidance. The civilian was verysweet and took things slowly, and it was great. Fives still has an openrelationship with them.

Wolffe: A nat-bornsoldier from the army. They met once during an assignment and they really hitit off while talking about annoying droids and amazing generals. Wolffe andthem dated for a while, and his first time with them was amazing. They’re nottogether anymore, but they’re still friends, and that means a lot for a manlike Wolffe.

Keep itDown!: Are you loudwhen you make love?

Cody: the realquestion is: can he make his partners be loud while they make love? And theanswer is a long, drawn-out, moaned “yes”.

Fives: loudand wordy. “You like that, huh?”, “Hnn, you feel so good…”, “Yeah, darling don’tstop” as well as plenty of groans and moans.

Wolffe: “loud”is not the word, he’s more… noisy. Grunts, growls, rich purrs, hissed curses.Hmmmmm….

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quicksilverlightning · 5 years ago

Text

I have chased you through a thousand novels.

You saw her under a black umbrella on the corner of Cherry and Wessex. Dark eyes, dark hair, pale skin; her rainbow polka dot rubber boots felt incongruous under the orange street lamp as she stepped back, avoiding the wave created by a passing taxi. The rain splatters over the taut black curve of her umbrella in a melody you almost recognize before the tempo changes with her impatience and she walks into the street just before the walk sign changes. You start from your place under the awning of a small-time lawyer in a small-time town - the compulsion to follow her, to know her, is suddenly unbearable. You duck into the rain, heading for the crosswalk, already feeling the uncomfortable sensation of water down your collar. The white walking man is blinking orange - you only have a few seconds to reach the corner and cross. Your feet graze the street just as a flashing ambulance appears from around the bend; the wail of the siren is like a death whistle, and you rock yourself back just as it passes and you can see the splash of the puddle coming in slow motion, full of yellowed leaves and you raise your arms, hoping to at least keep the grime from your eyes as you shut them tightly.

You see her again in a garden, blonde ringlets bouncing in the sunlight. Her wicker basket is full of jonquils, tulips, and a small white flower you have no name for. You place your finger in the pages of your book and rest the spine on the stone bench you find yourself occupying, breath caught between the dappled light under the trees and the translucency of her white sundress fluttering in the breeze. The hum in your ears might be the honeybees flitting in the azalea bushes, or it might be the white noise of love at first sight - you’re too caught in the moment to care which. Her blue eyes flash with a wild, untouchable joy as a dragonfly alights upon her fingers curving over the basket handle. A sudden gust sends her sunhat flying - the dragonfly takes off as she yanks herself forward to grab it, but it’s already out of her reach. The straw bristles graze against your forehead and your senses are suddenly flooded with the scent of her coconut shampoo. Your free hand rises to pull the hat down, shading your eyes from the harsh glare of the day. The heat of the desert is absolutely ruthless - your white shirt and cargo pants do nothing to spare you from the brutal gaze of the sun. The excavation is going smoothly - your team has already procured enough priceless treasures to fill a museum, and the tomb is still largely untouched. Today is the day you will remove the funeral mask - today, you will finally see the face of the woman so beloved her servants willingly followed her to the grave. You step into the tomb and the temperature instantly drops ten degrees, falling lower with each antechamber until you find yourself in the center of the complex where she awaits. The gold funeral mask is painted and stylized with harsh angles that only vaguely resemble a human face. The flicker of torchlight casts strange shadows, further distorting the false persona laid over her body. Your team is ready; all of them have gathered here for this moment, the climax to twelve years of searching. Your hands tremble only a little. The mask is cold to the touch, and incredibly smooth. You hook the tips of your fingers just so around both sides of the dense metal, pulling as gently as possible. A few strands of straight black hair rise with the mask, and fall again as you lift it away completely, leaving the face of this land’s legendary queen open to your gaze. In the dark, a black cat brushes up against your ankles. You look down, catching a glimmer of green eyes, before the cat bolts away, dodging between the puddles and garbage cans of the back alley. You take another drag on your cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs before letting go with a sigh.Your boss is just about ready to fire you again, this time over a spilled beer bottle. It’s almost not worth going back in. You flick the butt away - it lands in a greasy puddle without a splash. You’re halfway turned towards to door when she runs by - her long black hair waves behind her like a banner and her combat boots hit the pavement like bricks as she speeds through the alley, taking almost exactly the same path as the cat from minutes ago. You would finish your turn and get back to the bar, but you saw the fear on her face - the whites of her eyes, the jerky movement of her arms, the rapid breathing that had nothing to do with simple exertion. You call out and begin to run. She makes one turn, then another, stumbling over a pile of flattened cardboard boxes and jumping over discarded two by fours. You can barely keep your eyes on her vintage bomber jacket in the poorly-lit backstreets; you rely on the sounds ahead of you to keep up, and hope you’re only imagining the sounds behind you. The passage opens up suddenly, and you find yourself in the ocean, waves crashing over the sand in cadence with the cry of the gulls. You brush the sand from your knees and reach for the surfboard that knocked you over, passing it to the sheepishly grinning boy who lost control. You make your way back to the blanket spread under the grove of palm trees, lying back to watch the clouds roll by. You must have dozed off at some point, because the sun is much lower in the sky when you open your eyes again. The sky is just beginning to glow and the ocean is a little less cerulean and a little more navy. You prop yourself up on your elbows, wondering what time it is when she walks by. Her red hair is slightly damp, clinging to her shoulders in a way that makes your swim trunks feel a little tighter. Around her neck, held loosely by a black cord, a white scallop shell hangs perfectly between her sun-kissed breasts. She’s holding a glass bottle with a rolled scrap of paper inside, and you wonder if she found it in the surf, or if she’s planning to throw it in. You pick yourself up off the blanket, stepping on to the warm stones of the cathedral courtyard. The singing is louder here, and you know you’re close to the source. You step as quietly as possible, over fallen pillars and shards of stained glass scattered all over the cobblestone. An echo of song reaches your ears, and you think you can make out some of the words. You’re on the other side now, the side covered in shadows, and you can see a set of stairs that weren’t visible from the entrance. They go up into the clouds; you grip the armrests of your seat, uneasy with the sensation of taking off. The woman across the aisle is eagerly looking out the window, watching the airport shrink into a pinprick. You wish you were so comfortable with flying. You also wish you were brave enough to talk to her - it’s going to be a long eight hours without anyone to talk to. You breathe a little easier as the plane levels out and can already hear some of the other passengers un-clicking their seat belts. You keep yours on, glancing again at the cover of her book - her palm covers the title, but the dust jacket looks familiar. You open your mouth ask her about it, but shut yourself up, quickly - you can’t bring yourself to interrupt a reader, to pull her lovely brown eyes away from the page that has so captured her interest, to remind her that her coffee is getting cold and her chocolate chip cookie is uneaten and the clouds look like they might rain and you have so much laundry to do. You’re already on the third load today, washer spinning your clothes like a personal hurricane. You can’t complain though - you always save the laundry for Thursdays. You glance at the clock just as the bell over the door jingles and know she’s right on time. The basket at her hip is full of pastels and skirts dirtied with garden soil. Her moccasins hardly make a sound over the tile as she heads for a washer only a few spaces down from your own. You can see your reflections together in the laundry shop window - her; soft, blonde, gold-rimmed glasses and beads, and you; gawky, awkward, nerdy t-shirts and Converse shoes hitting the pavement with a pile of resumes under one arm. None of the big companies are hiring much, but you might have more luck in some of the smaller businesses. You wonder if the pizza place with the cute cashier is looking for anyone - won’t hurt to give it a shot. You decide to begin your job hunt in that direction, when a sudden squeal of tires has you stomping on the breaks - the driver on the other side of the road has hit someone. You frantically reach for your seat belt, struggling a moment with the buckle before rushing over to see what you can do. The woman in the street is unconscious, blood pooling at the tip of your finger as the nurse presses it against the glucose meter. She has lovely brunette hair pulled back into a bun and all you can think about it pulling it loose to watch the cascade down her back. The prim white uniform is sterile, professional, but does nothing to hide her curves. The meter beeps with a shrill buzzing and you slow your jog to a walk. You rest your hands on your knees - maybe next week you’ll be able to keep up with her. Maybe the week after that, you’ll be able to talk as you run. Maybe the week after that one, pigs will fly. You huff and lift the package over the counter; same day delivery, just like always. You wonder what she’s sending in all these boxes, and to who. She thanks you with a pleasant smile and heads out the door to the Corvette she left idling outside. Your coworker’s radio is playing Mozart on a violin that looks older than her. Her song is impossibly beautiful, and you find your eyes watering with the sting of pepper spray. The riot shields are backing your fellow protesters into a corner, and you look for the girl with green hair, hoping she’s alright. You see her pick something up from the ground - a rock? She turns it over in a her hand, her expression curious. You move a little faster, heart racing with fear; you’ve dreamed this before, and you know, with absolute certainty, that the town’s witch is in danger. You reach out an arm to hail a cab, but it isn’t going to stop. In the backseat you can see a woman in a sharp business suit, ear pressed against a cell phone with a pained expression. Her red nails are clenched into her free palm, and her mascara is running down her cheeks. You see all this in but a moment - and then the cab is gone. Speeding around the corner, you nearly crash your bike into a woman with an armful of groceries. You yank the handlebars just in time, choosing to crash into a telephone pole instead. You faintly hear the woman drop her bags in shock - your dazed head hopes vaguely that she wasn’t carrying any eggs. You are in an empty station. The trains are all long gone for the night, save one, a black and red locomotive idling before a woman in a long brown skirt, a traveling coat, and sensible leather boots. The large suitcase sitting next to her is old and frayed at the corners; the few travel stickers are illegible now. You walk to her, one echoing footfall at a time. She turns her her to you, a faint smile on her face, as you slow, stopping barely a foot from where she stands. You say I have chased you through a thousand novels. She says I know. The train lets out a whistle as the steam bellows from the smokestack; you sense rather than hear the all aboard from the conductor. The woman picks up her suitcase, holding the bar with both hands. She turns to face you once more. Then, with that strange smile still gracing her lips, she bows, once, and boards the train. She hefts her suitcase up the stairs, the conductor following just after with a tip of the hat in your direction. You can still see her through the window of the passenger car, handing the inspector her ticket. She glances to you outside; you raise a hesitant hand and she smiles, a true smile, and waves back. The train whistles again and jerks, a fog of steam clouding the window. You step once, twice, as the train begins to pick up speed. You see the woman turn her head to the future. You stop, letting the rush of cars ruffle your hair, one hand loosely gripping at your coat, watching the train vanish into the distance. You stand a few minutes more, lost in thought, before finally moving away. With a gentle sigh you close the book.

#original work #short story #second person #experimental #writing #metatextual #prose poetry #leaning heavily on Calvino here #if on a winter's night a traveler

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polar-stars · 6 years ago

Note

₪ thought it'd be funny for takashi/shigeo to have the same room ❂ rutna and takayuki because I'm curious and ☁ Manami and Ayano because I see them being pretty good friends! If that's okay, of course!!

Of course! I hope you’ll enjoy them and that I did okay ;w;

Takashi/Shigeo - Due to an accident, your muse was given the same Hotel Room as mine…

“Yes I checked in already! The room is the bomb!” Takashi laughed into his phone. “There’s just…”, he shifted his gaze to the other side of the room, “…one, greedy, green-haired problem with it.”

“Give me another room.” Shigeo commanded coldly. The hotel staff member on the other side of the phone cleared his throat a little nervously. “…I’m truly sorry, Sir. We’re still trying to look into this and how this happened in the first place. But I am afraid to admit that….all rooms are full.” Shigeo’s face darkened and his voice got even sharper. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was to deal with incompetent people. “Okay, I’m going to explain this to you in the most simple way possible but-” He was interrupted.

“What does Suzume call you again? Aaah! I remember! Was it…” Takashi left a little dramatic pause, probably hearing an imaginative drumroll in his head. “….Four-Eyeeeeeeees?”

Shigeo clenched his teeth. Of course that kid would be on good terms with the goddess of sheer annoyance herself named Suzume Hojo.

No way he was going to listen to this irritating rambling all night long. “Do something about this! Or I’ll make sure that you’ll never greet a guest in your entire life again.” He hissed into the phone. Contrary to popular belief, he was not a hothead. But he just couldn’t bring up a lot of tolerance for loud, way too energetic people. Should they have blonde hair and be in any way related to Terunori Kuga it only made matters worse.

Slowly he turned around after hanging up, his eyes aiming to pierce through the young boy that was unfortunately stuck in his hotel room.

“The hotel staff will take care of it and as long as they do so…” His voice took on a threatening tone. “Do not talk to me. Your voice honestly gives me a headache.”

“Are you intending to freeze me, Mister?” Was Takashi’s mere response and he grinned widely. Shigeo’s left eye twitched, before he gave his answer. Or rather another threat.

“Die.”

“Whoops! Seems like it didn’t happen! I’m still here after all.” Takashi laughed, still unbothered by the threats. “I think I’ll call you ‘Baron Cold-Hearted’. Or what do you think?”

For quite some time it was silent as Shigeo just stared at the grinning Takashi with a more than displeased look. But finally his lips actually curled into the usual confident and condescending smirk. If that kid really wanted to play this game, then he would win. He had offered peace and all it had required the annoying blonde in front of him to do was to stay quiet. But if he wanted war that desperately, then let it be. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind me calling you midget.”

Now it was Takashi’s turn to have a twitching eye. He clutched his fists, took a step forward and bawled. “What did you just say to me?!”

Shigeo only crossed his arms, chuckled darkly and then answered. “Oh? That was just me pointing out facts.” His smirk grew a little. “Runt.”

“YOU PANCAKE SON OF MEDUSA!” “I beg your pardon?!”

Within just a few minutes, the hotel staff received a thousand calls of the rooms nearby begging to do something about the two, arguing annoyances.

Rutna/Takayuki - Your muse finds mine injured

Rutna took in a sharp, painful breath as she looked at her wrist which was dripping a little bit of blood and aching in pain. Her last opponent in combat had been good.

To make matters worse the crowd had gathered around her and everyone was staring at her, curious. Many different chats all together sounding like one, insanely loud gargle. And not one of them brought up the idea to maybe bring a plaster.

“Hey! Stop huddling around her like a group of retarded penguins you idiots! She needs help, not an audience!” A familiar voice suddenly spat.

An annoyed Takayuki was elbowing his way through the crowd, ready to punch anyone who would even intend to stop him in his tracks. “Atitarn! Are you okay?” He called out as he had finally reached Rutna. She smiled at him. “Ohh, Takayuki Sweetie! You finally came to watch huh!”

“Cut that!” Takayuki barked. “We’ll have to get you a plaster first!” He turned to the crowd and yelled. “For the last time, don’t just stand there! Fucking do something!”

The crowd did indeed part, but most of them just got bored and went elsewhere. Takayuki was not that intimidating yet.

However a girl decided to have a heart and run to get a plaster.

Takayuki shook his head “Idiots” and kneed down to Rutna. “You didn’t answer my question….Are you alright?”

Rutna chuckled. “I admit, my last opponent was better than usually but I will live, Takayuki Sweetie!”

Takayuki only grumbled in response. Before looking to the side and mumbling something about “Be more careful next time..”

Manami/Ayano - Our muses find shelter from the weather…in the same place

“Well get you as soon as possible, little sister. Find shelter in the meantime.” “Alright Zuzu, thank you! I’ll be perfectly fine!” Manami assured her brother on the phone before hanging up. The rain around her was becoming stronger and stronger by each second and she already heard the thunder roll in the distance.

She only accelerated her speed and finally saw a little bus stop with canopy that could lend her shelter. With security being so near, it made it possible for her to give her pace even a little more tempo and within a few seconds she was safe from the cold raindrops.

Once under the canopy she sighed and sat down on one of the seats. So she didn’t noticed that she wasn’t alone, at least not until the other person who had searched shelter at the bus stop spoke up. “Oh, aren’t you Kei-kun’s new friend?”

Manami looked up and turned into the direction from which that sugar-sweet voice had come from and saw right into the blood-red eyes of a black-haired young girl who was curiously looking at her. Manami tilted her head.

The girl came a little closer before she continued with a way-too wide smile. “My name is Mimasaka Ayano, I’m a good friend of Kei-kun! He told me about you! Kuga Manami, right?” Manami didn’t minded the glowing eyes, or her smile that looked a little like she had just murdered someone. She just jumped off her seat and held out her hand. “Yes! Kei-chi has also told me about you already. I was hoping to meet you someday! Guess I got lucky, it’s nice to meet you!”

Ayano giggled before taking the hand. “The pleasure is on my side, Manami-san.” She leaned a little forward and stared with big eyes into something that was in Manami’s hair. “Your bells are really cute!” Her smile got a little wider, if that was even possible. “I like bells a lot! Little bells like these, they fit great on teddybears. Or big, huge bells that hang in churches and that you can hear in the distance when strolling over a graveyard!” She giggled once again.

Manami could only laugh herself and said. “Thank you! I think the ribbons in your hair a pretty cute as well!”

Ayano leaned back again, but the smile did certainly not leave her lips. “Thank you. Red is my favorite color.”

Deciding that it was now her time to start a conversation, Manami asked. “And, how long do you think the rain will take?” Ayano shrugged to that. “Don’t know. I usually don’t mind the rain or thunderstorms but my bag will get wet and I have some of my most precious dolls in there! So I have to wait till the rain is going to stop…” She scratched her head. “I forgot my mobile phone at home once again, so I can’t contact Onee-chan to pick me up.” Despite being a young teen, Ayano rarely ever used her mobile phone which often caused her to leave it at home.

“Oh! Well, my brothers will come pick me up in just a few minutes.” Manami exclaimed and smiled. “I’m sure they can take you home as well.”

For a moment Ayano seemed surprised. “Really? You want to bring me home?” Manami brightly smiled at that. “But of course! We’re friends now! And while we wait…” Manami grabbed her own bag and pulled a box of chocolates out of it. “We’ll have some chocolates!”

Ayano blinked for a few seconds before giggling once again and smiling back. “That’s very nice of you.”

And so the two girls sat down next to each other and began sharing stories and chocolates.

#Lea is writing #Other's OCs #Shigeo Eizan #Takayuki Hojo #Ayano Mimasaka

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llvgd-a · 6 years ago

Note

"there was chocolate on your lips," wHOOPS

☾.*･｡ﾟ MEMES » ( @ophiiiuchus. )

ELECTRIFYING, how heavenly metronome soar like gentle beatings of a drum ! it sings a foreign melody, soft and versatile, it lulls the moon raven’s heart into ecstasy. numb from uncertainty, astute senses falls under the might of his spell. drowning from the warmth of his presence, she melts at his touch. celestial lips become nimble from inexperience and thus, she cannot help but follow his lead. movements grow sheltered, she remains diligently in the present. heart leaping across an unknown tempo, she can feel her blood rush towards the heat of her visage. her complexion flushed with color, she cannot help but wonder if he can feel the emotions that resonates from within. her mind flutters and luna cannot help but wonder if it was because of the wrackspurts playing a rather unusual trick on her. ( this was her first kiss ), and never had she anticipated that she would share this experience with draco malfoy of all people.

after all, she is loony lovegood —— and hence she is very aware of the rumors that befell her name. of course, she was far from bitter and never has she proven herself otherwise. therefore, she suppose it was rather flattering to say the least. he does have a rather beautiful facial structure if she was to be honest. strong, pointed, and evenly symmetrical, he could very well be an artist’s muse and as they parted, she becomes very aware of the physical attraction he bears. words are silence and doe eyes can only stare at his own as he reveals the circumstance befalling his rather abrupt gesture: there was chocolate on your lips, the older boy claims and a smile cannot help but become etched onto luna’s lips.

❝ oh — it’s the pudding. ❞ recollection suddenly emerges onto silvery gaze as her fingers quickly canvases across her own rose palette brims. a shy gesture was quickly revealed and she finds herself shrinking further by his presence. ❝ do you like pudding too, draco ? the ones made in the castle is truly divine. ❞ cherubic tongue cannot help but fall in rhapsody —— as her keen mind slowly finds herself processing the kiss shared between them. ( she does not know how to react and thus she humbly continues on ), ❝ i could get you some if you like ? ❞

#this was... soft #she does not know how to respond and i think thats so precious #ophiiiuchus

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nothingtoseeshhhh · 7 years ago

Text

Be serious

→ pairing: Jungkook x Reader

→ genre: FLUFF and very mild angst

→ warnings: swearing

→ word count: 2.8k

summary: You’re Jungkook’s older female friend and have known him for a few years now. Recently, however, you’ve been developing... unsettling feelings that you don’t know how to deal with. So, you do what you and Kookie know how best to do. Kill things in video games.

______________________

Death. Death is the great equalizer. Everyone dies, eventually, and in that regard, there is no true humiliation in dying. Well, that would be the case if it weren’t for a certain Jeon Jungkook sitting right behind you, bowl of popcorn perched precariously in his lap, while he watches you grind your teeth at dying-yet again-to the Dancer of the Boreal Valley in Dark Souls III. She winds back, body twisting in that unsightly, unnatural way that you know isn’t right, and you know that you’re too close-too close to that pillar behind you to flee, and too close to her legs to get around and to her right where you might be able to skirt some damage.

Sure enough, the second you try to roll out of her AOE, her double blades chasing after your characters flailing form, she catches you in the corner of the pillar. One hit, two, three, spinning round and round like a goddamn top of death decked out in shear silks and your health drops to zero, your Ashen One fading to nothing as the screen darkens to a colorless grey except for the horrid, sharp, bloody words you’ve seen thirteen times before now:

“Game over, noona!” Jungkook almost sings from behind on the couch. You don’t know when you slid off the cushions in favor of the floor, having muttered something about being able to concentrate better without Jungkook constantly nudging you, but you do know that when you flop your head back in frustration to whine at him, his beaming grin almost makes you forget how angry you are. Both at the game, and with his constant cajoling of your playing. Almost.

“I can read, Kookie,” you said.

“This is what, fourteen?” he asks, cocking a brow at you, angling himself on the couch so that he is facing you a little closer. It’s times like this you could just about forget he’s the lead vocalist in the world famous band BTS. Just sitting here, relaxing, playing video games while he harangues you for your evidently lacking playstyle, he seems like a normal early twenty-something.

You scrunched your nose when he throws a kernel of popcorn at you. “You’re wearing too much armor, noona. If you unequipped something or wore something lighter you’d roll faster.”

“I know how to play this game, Jungkook,” you grit, turning back to face the screen. You slam you thumb on the ‘x’ to keep playing, determined to speed your way back to the damn boss. Ignoring the way Jungkook egged you on to gather more souls so you could ‘git gud’ you managed to find your way through the pathways of High Lothric Castle, slashing and blocking passed as many enemies as possible.

“You’re pretty good against these weaklings, you know-”

“Kookie, I swear to God…”

“Now, if only that Dancer lady was one of these zombie things you’d stand a chance! But, no, you keep,” you shoot him a glare just as you backstab a guard, your stare daring him to continue, which he does, with a wide, shit-eating beam, “dying! Really, you’re so bad at video games!”

“I’ll show you bad at video games,” you mutter, sullenly, as you stagger a fatty and finish it with a quick fire bomb combo, scowling. No amount of trying to remind Jungkook that it scientifically proven that the Dancer was one of the most difficult bosses in the game could quell his incessant bothering, nor pointing out that his pestering only made it worse on you seemed to get through his thick skull. You needed him to be quiet while you fought the Dancer or you’d never advance. You’d taken on every other boss. Instead, the reminders seemed to spur him on, his body leaning forward as the back of her neck began to burn in both humiliation and anger at your continued failure.

“Ah! Are you blushing, Y/N? Because you keep losing?”

You scoffed and lifted an arm, trying to cover your cheeks to your ears. You were lucky in that you had stopped right outside of the Boreal’s boss room, so there were no mob spawns currently present to attempt to kill your Ashen One while you fought against the searing blood in your face. Refusing to look in Jungkook’s direction, you attempted to tamp down the conflicting emotions suddenly thrashing in your body. Both the adrenaline from the near constant boss fight, vexation from your inability to progress, and the ever present pleasant buzz that had surfaced around your best friend recently were swirling and battling for dominance. But, that last emotion you kept under tight regulation and a heavy dose of denial. After all, there was no way. Not with him, not for you.

You’d met Jungkook by pure chance and now, as his elder female friend, you treasured the limited time you got to spend with him too much to listen to your foolish hormones. It had just been too long since you’d dated any seriously. That had to be the explanation for the recent fluttering of your heart in your throat whenever he smiled like the adorable money made of sunshine that he was. Or how you wanted to wrap your arms around him and squeeze whenever he did that thing with his hair that showed off his forehead. Or when he told you to wear one of his hoodies when you forgot, stupidly, your jacket at your house again-not quite used to the quick drops in Seoul’s fall and spring evening temperatures-and how you wanted to just roll around and bask in his scent for the rest of the week.

Nope. None of that was allowed to happen. And he could never know about it.

“Shut it, Kookie, I can’t focus if you keep distracting me!” you whine, pressing your fingers to your face in an attempt to cool the burning. You had just picked your controller back up, determined to ignore Jungkook’s very existence, when you felt his finger graze along the sensitive skin of the back of your neck. It sent a shock of electricity through you, making you jolt and jump, both from surprise and to suppress the noise that would have escaped that back of your throat. Instead, you release an exaggerated yelp, holding your neck as if he’d scalded you and threw yourself a few inches away from him.

“Jungkook!?” you hiss, eyes wide. He sits there, looking at you with a surprised but spreading smile, as if he just discovered his new favorite thing. Damn his jawline. Damn his thick arms and glossy hair and the way just locking gazes with his deep chocolate stare was enough to drown out the blaring music of the game.

“Your neck is so red! Does it hurt, noona? And what’s with this cute reaction?” he wiggled his fingers, a silent threat that made you inwardly shriek. No, no, no! The last thing you could handle was more of whatever that had been. Your heart was already beating so hard you were sure it’d burst.

“My neck’s really sensitive,” you said, rubbing the skin in a desperate attempt to erase the feeling of him touching you. But it stuck like a brand continuing to send little bolts of something you refused to acknowledge through you, something too dark for you to want to think about around Jungkook.

So you chose to puff your cheeks out, waving your hand at him in mock annoyance. “Stop bothering me. I’m entering the cathedral.”

“Yes, noona,” he said, smirking.

The low thrumming of the Dancer’s choir music started up again, her snaking step moving in time to the steady whine of the high voices in the background as you flexed your fingers against the controller’s curved edges. You attempted to forget the feel of Jungkook touching you-after all, the two of you hugged and invaded personal spaces all the time-but that had been different. Unexpected. It made your nerves on edge, everything now hyper aware of every move and breath he took—which was making your fighting sloppy. The Dancer punished your inattentiveness with a sharp swipe, taking with her a third of your health. You sacrificed nearly all of your stamina to get away in order to use an estus flask in order to regain enough health to feel safe again, before returning to previous strategy.

“Do you want me to take the controller?”

“Do you want me to hit you with it?” you snapped, not even turning to look at his smug face. Soon, you were too engrossed in the erratic ebb and flow of the battle to pay attention to Jungkook or the way the smirk fell from his face. Gone was the cocky little shit that made your neck and ears burn, and in his stead was a thoughtful young man worrying his lower lip.

He picked at his thumb, staring at your profile as you worked the Dancer’s health steadily further down, whittling it until it reached half. Your jaw was set, tense, eyes narrowed, and arms forward on your legs. He found himself loving seeing you so captivated, so focused on something, and even better was the dusting of pink still present on your cheeks and ears. He felt his fingers itch, twitch, to reach out and run over the flesh to see if it would burn him like it promised it would. IF you would yelp and react as cutely again.

Your words from before also repeated over and over in his head. ‘I have a sensitive neck.’ He frowned.

Just as the music picked up and the Dancer pulled her second damn sword out-because of course the bitch did-you heard Jungkook shift. You tried not to pay attention to him, too busy adjusting to the new shift in tempo to the Dancer’s move-set, when he hummed under his breath.

“Noona, it’s boring.”

The annoyed click leaves your mouth before you think, your brows furrowing.

“I watch you play Overwatch. Deal,” you breathe, twitching a shoulder as the Dancer lands a punishing hit. One more like that and you’re fucked.

“At least Overwatch we can play together.”

“You know I don’t play shooters,” you said, blocking one of her spin attacks by ducking behind a pillar.

“Did your boyfriends know about your sensitive neck, noona?”

You almost choke on the air passing down your nose and you have to resist the urge to drop the controller. You lick your lips, feeling the blush that had been seceding starting to reaffirm itself anew. Goddammit, Jungkook!

You let out a shaky breath through your nose, managing to not let his questioning effect your fight too much. Yet. “Duh. Why wouldn’t they? Random question, Kook.”

You don’t look at him, don’t see his eyes narrow or the way a quick flash of something that could be classified as possessiveness makes its way over his features is presented before it’s pushed back down. You don’t see the way his eyes flit from your face, to your neck, to your hands, as if trying to decide what to do, his lips firming. He hadn’t liked that answer at all.

“Did you act that cute with them, too?”

You wince, both from confusion at the question’s direction and from the dancer managing to almost corner you by the head of the room. When you processed his words enough, your mouth dried.

“Why the hell are you asking me these kinds of things right now, Kookie? I’m kinda-”

“I like you,” he said, cutting you off.

The words thundered into the room, drowning the game, the music, the Dancer as she reared up and brought her swords down on your Ashen One and you just stood there. Stunned. Your hands shook as you turned your head, slowly, eyes wide, mouth opening a bit, disbelieving what you’d heard. Jungkook ran his tongue over his lower lip before sucking it under his teeth, his eyes narrowing on you.

“I like you, Y/N,” he repeated, though this time quieter, less confident sounding than before.

You swallowed, unsure if you were hearing him right, unsure if any of this was real. How many times over the last few months had you daydreamed the thought of Jungkook saying these words to you? And now, here he was, sitting there, looking humble and reticent with his head bowed but eyes trained on your reaction, having just confessed that he… liked… you?

You opened your mouth but no sounds came out. He took your silence as a sign to keep talking.

“I don’t like the idea of any other guys getting to see that cute reaction to your neck. Or getting to see you blush like that. I know that’s immature,” Jungkook scowled at himself, looked down at his hands, as he continued, “but I want to be the only one who knows about that. I want to learn all your cute faces. Your cute sounds. I want to learn everything about you. I like you so much it hurts.”

The burning on your cheeks and neck spread rapidly to your chest, you feel it, and you pull your hands up to your face in panic. Shit. Of course you’d turn into a red troll right when Jungkook was confessing to you! Of fucking course you would!

You start when you feel hands enclose around your wrists, gentle but firm, before strong arms are pulling your hands away from hiding your face. He had inched closer, far too close for your comfort, and his doe eyes were wide with wonder and appreciation.

“Don’t hide from me. Please. I want to see everything about you,” he said, as his hands come to cup your face. His thumbs traced over the tops of your cheeks, as if to press away the searing heat of your blush, but it only made it worse. You let out a nervous laugh, but quiet when pressed his forehead to yours: “I really want to kiss you, noona, but you haven’t said you like me back, yet.”

Your eyes dart to his lips, then back up to his eyes, before licking your own. Butterflies erupt into your stomach, nerves and anxiety wracking your entire body. What if, when he kissed you, he realized he was making a mistake? What if he was just playing with you? What if he was just being a little shit like usual?

But, as you stared into his warm, sincere brown eyes, you could see the emotion there was genuine. He was pleading with you to like him back. His hands were practically holding you in place, begging you not to run from his feelings, as he leaned carefully over you on the couch. Ah… Kookie… when did you get so insecure?

Finally, your throat clicks, and you feel like your tongue can work. The months of silently watching Jungkook, wanting to say something, anything, but being terrified to even so much as making one move wrong and give away your feelings melting away under his warmth. You can’t help the small smile the spreads over your face, inwardly chastising both yourself and Jungkook for waiting. All this time. How long had you liked each other?

How long could you have been together but were too scared to broach the topic?

Fuck being afraid, your heart decided.

“I like you too, Jungkook,” you whisper, eyes sliding closed. You bask for a second in feeling his breath fanning across your face, his warm hands grasping you, his presence surrounding your form, it felt… like home. When had he started feeling like the one place in the world that you needed to come back to? When had he managed to worm his way into your heart so readily.

“Thank god. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long. I love you…”

Your head swam with the question of, ‘how long is so long?’ but it was banished by his lips pressing against yours, his body now coming to curve over yours from the couch. He craned your neck back carefully, as if your neck were made of glass, afraid of hurting you, of you running away, but the second his lips had touched yours a flurry of emotions you’d never quite experienced before flooded you. Your hands came to grip his shirt, heart thudding behind your eyes, elation swimming through your blood as your mind tried to catch up to the fact that this was real.

He bit at your lower lip just enough to smart, a finger coming to caress at your neck and make you shiver as he pulled away. The smug Jungkook was back, all smirks and coyness as he sat back, though now he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of you. He pursed his lips before looking to the screen that read, once more:

“Game over, noona.”

“Shut up, Jungkook, and kiss me again, you little shit.”

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its-just-like-the-movies · 6 years ago

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Tom & Viv (94, C+)

Why this film: Because it lined up so perfectly with this month’s Smackdown! So how could I not?

The Film: Who exactly was the predicted audience for Tom & Viv back in 1994? I don’t mean this exclusively as a dig on the source material or the finished product, but it’s hard to picture that the story of T.S. Eliot’s tumultuous marriage would’ve inspired that much fervor back in the day. The adaptation of the original play began nine years after it debuted on the West End, receiving one Laurence Olivier nomination before getting an off-Broadway run and vanishing from the stage for over twenty years. This lack of fanfare seems even more exasperated by its legacy nowadays, if it can be called that, saved from obscurity by way of two surprisingly high-profile Academy Award nominations that would still only attract those who’re deeply invested in either of the nominated women, Oscar completists who are doing it just cuz, folks who like watching period dramas about unstable women, or T.S. Eliot fans.

Of those groups, I’d imagine that the Eliot fans interested in a portrait of the artist would be the most consistently underwhelmed by the film, if only because his work is kept strictly in the film’s periphery. It’s talked about but rarely read aloud or shown, the focus on the Eliot’s marriage so predominant that his rising success and the income that comes with it is dramatized through their material wealth more that it is explicitly referenced, at least not to the degree of any of their personal lives. In fact, Eliot’s personal life and family ties don’t seem to exist outside of Viv until his fames grows, while Viv’s relationships to her family is one of the film’s central points of tension. The repercussions of Eliot’s fame are certainly discussed, as Viv worries that Tom is replacing her with his new poet friends and having affairs with women in those circles who’re dazzled by his work. There’s also the complication that Viv frequently claims to be his muse, his editor, and his sounding board, demanding credit for having given The Wasteland its name. This is not a hagiography of the artist, but the film’s focus on Eliot’s marriage and interest in Viv’s artistic credentials might keep this from being the deep plumbing of the artist someone might be hunting for.

Then again, an even bigger preclusion for Eliot fans to get into the film is how unfathomably dull Willem Dafoe is in the part. Any potential into getting a portrait of the man alongside or even superseding a portrait of the artist is stopped in its tracks by Dafoe’s soft-spoken, milquetoast take on the part. The man simply comes off as boring and stuffy, never worthy of the intrigue posed by Viv, his fellow poets, adoring fans, or anyone who presumes him to be a worthwhile figure. Dafoe is so passionless in the part, speaking his lines as softly as possible while infusing them with zero emotion, refusing to cling to any sense of intellect or to make his accent sound remotely natural, that there’s simply no believing that he might be having an affair with any of the women Viv is terrified of and antagonistic towards. What on earth could have drawn Viv to him in the first place?

Dafoe’s performance represents one half of the dichotomy of problems that best defines what makes Tom & Viv such a palpably uneven experience. If he stands in for the moments where the film could easily shape itself up more, Miranda Richardson’s energized but dangerously overmannered take on Vivienne Eliot emblematizes the film’s worst indulgences into overstatement. Richardson is more than capable of conjuring an air of instability and roiling inner turmoil, writing our her character’s thoughts through the darting glances of her eyes and jittery movements, but her madness becomes so prescriptive that it loses almost all spontaneity. In her best moments, which see her being more clearly guided by the director or by her costars, Richardson is able to temper herself slightly without sacrificing her tics, though it’s clear in these moments how little modulation is actually in the performance, aside from the moments where she makes a point of showing us that she’s modulating the performance in a lower tempo. True, she genuinely calms down in the film’s last act, but her impact before this point is ultimately limited, her scene-by-scene choices too obvious for them to build in any interesting way.

The film itself seems to follow a trajectory from being too hopped-up on its own, sporadically ostentatious filmmaking techniques all the way to almost dangerously non-cinematic, not so much a filmed play as just unimaginatively put together. This is not to say that the film is ever a showcase for its makers - director Brian Gilbert seems more than happy to slap his actors in period wares and let them carry the picture - but it’s still noticeable when the editing or the score become the primary method for the film to goose our responses. Its earliest scenes are by far the worst, as the almost 40 year old Dafoe is so heavily made up to impersonate a college-aged youth that his face loses any and all distinguishing features. He looks like a doll whose face has had any gendered characteristics smoothed away, as if he were an uncanny valley animation of an androgynous doll. Richardson’s makeup is fine, but she’s forced to pantomime the free-spirited behavior of a young person by running around with her arms outstretched as though she were a plane, galavanting on a lawn with a sign asking passerby not to galavant on it. In the next scene they meet, and in the next they pack their bags to get married. These scenes are relatively calm, something the film compensates for by showing Viv undergoing an abject breakdown, destroying their hotel room and taking a lot of her prescribed medication after an unsuccessful roll in the honeymoon sack, dramatically cross-cut with Tom’s furrowed brow contemplatively paces the shoreline of a beach.

If the establishing third of Tom & Viv is ultimately its shakiest segment, there’s something to be said for the film’s middle third, as all the pieces start sparking against each other in unexpectedly bracing ways. Even if Dafoe is unforgivably bland and Richardson semi-predictable in her brazenness, the shifting textures of their relationship are more interesting to watch play out than expected. It helps that Brian Gilbert’s direction finds an appropriately undemonstrative but still semi-active mode of shaping his story. Neither truly imaginative nor fully perfunctory, he finds the right distance from Richardson’s whirlwinds that they become more impactful as character beats rather than harried actressing. Watching her mix a boiling vat of chocolate, grow more and more vocally irate at a dinner party, draw on a mannequin with lipstick, all these actions are more compelling for how they’re shot. Simple and effective, enhancing Richardson’s work and feeding into the story with unexpected poignancy as we start to grasp how threatened Vivienne must constantly feel by these invaders who can provide something for her husband she cannot, knowing all the while that they know it too and are talking about it behind her back. This is not to suggest too much of a sudden transformation in the film’s overall style or impact - Dafoe is still left to softly murmur on in his scenes, and the cadres of artists and admirers that pop up around him are never as distinct or entrancing as they might be. Especially as he starts to seriously consider kicking Viv in a sanitarium, growing increasingly weary of her behavior, Dafoe’s performance remains as damp and demure as ever. Her fears of adultery never ring as plausible, Dafoe even drags down Richardson and the script with as little effort as possible on his part. A hot-blooded Tom might’ve really tapped in to the script’s dramatic potential, but the sight of Viv fighting so hard against people who could all have a legitimate claim to her husband’s attention, borne from paranoia that doesn’t seem borne from absolutely nothing is frankly more compelling than it has any right to be. There’s clearly a version of this story about an unreliable man sending his unreliable wife to a sanitarium on dubious grounds, one stifled by a weak leading man and half-baked direction but still able to burst through the interpretation we’re getting at odd, unexpected angles.

There is at least one unabashed bright spot in the film, in the form of Rosemary Harris’s subtly affecting performance as the matriarch of the Haigh-Wood clan. Without ever working to undermine Tom & Viv’s leading actors, she nevertheless coaxes stronger, more consistent performances from Dafoe and especially Richardson, stabilizing the latter without forgoing Mrs. Haigh-Wood’s own characterization. The film is at its best when it follows the lead of her perfectly contained but still very palpable anxiety, and is never better than in the uncomfortable sequence of Tom having dinner with Vivienne’s immediate family for the first time. Viv spends most of the meal asking provocative, blatantly upsetting questions of her loved ones. Her family telegraph exhaustion at having had this kind of dinner table conversation too many times already but still irritated by her behavior, before Rose takes her daughter aside and gets her to actually calm down, only for her lucid confession about her feelings for Tom to startle her poor mother. It takes real intelligence to project a stable grasp of her daughter’s neuroses, worrying about her future with this new man while still finding room to be elated and disappointed by both of them without overacting. Particularly in her last scenes, hurt and confused after realizing that Viv tried to stab her - even if it was with a fake knife - but perhaps even more wounded that Tom packing Vivvie off to an asylum has proven how badly this man has failed Rose and her daughter, Harris proves herself an unfussy and emotionally sincere performer within a film less stable than its central marriage.

Harris is more of a face in the crowd in her second-to-last sequence, as one of several family members and doctors present for a verbal test to see if Vivienne is certifiable for sanitarium care. This is surprisingly the film’s weakest stretch, beginning with Tom trying to warn Viv before the doctors arrive as the two engage in unexpectedly romantic talk about the state of their relationship. Here, Richardson is the primary source of that romance, which comes across as sentimental and unearned considering that Viv is suddenly without her livewire physicality and higher pitched emotions. Now she speaks in a soft voice, speaks warmly, but she undermines any of the film’s complications by stating its theses in such a loving way. She’s not wrong to judge Tom for his own lies and put-ons and for not being able to face the music the way she wanted him to, but the fact that the Viv who’s saying this is so radically unlike the Viv we’ve spent the previous hour with undermines these ideas. And yet, her affectations return in an oddly performative key once the doctors arrive, as if she’s a deer caught in headlights and trying to hurl herself at them as the last defense mechanism she has left. That they even bother with the test instead of carting her right off after Viv attempts to stab her mother with a rubber knife is pretty bizarre in itself, but Richardson’s playing strips the scene of any dramatic potential or ambiguity as she intentionally answers one of the questions incorrectly. More than that, the filmmaking is complicit in romanticizing her last act of self-sabotage, as the score swells under close ups of Tom and Viv exchanging meaningful glances before she gives the wrong answer, the scene abruptly ending as if the test actually ended on the second question.

I said earlier that the film transitions from Viv-like over-enthusiasm to Tom-ish stultification, and though the scene above certainly fits that bill, a better description for the last third might be that they simply have no other function except as being the end to a story. Both partners, gracefully made up into middle age, speak of their devotion to each other despite the fact that Tom has not visited his wife or made any attempt to contact her at the sanitarium in ten years. Dafoe’s last scene is almost completely carried by the overwhelming, piano-heavy score as he gives the cold shoulder to an old friend Viv once said wanted to sleep with her. Meanwhile, Richardson finds the right tempo between containing the energy that’s defined her performance for most of the film while suggesting some genuine recovery over the past ten years. She’s relaxed and unsentimental in her final scene, giving a fond yet forceful line reading to “Chin up.”, as her brother tries not to cry, that’s more impactful than a line so blatantly structured as a farewell forever aimed at the heartstrings has a right to be. There’s little here that’s interesting in the way that the preceding half hour was, and Gilbert ranking the volume on that orchestra as the credits roll certified that I was far less moved than he was clearly expecting. If Tom & Viv ends as unevenly as it began, I’m not sure if what painfully doesn’t work is enough to dismiss the moments where it comes to some kind of bracing life. In the moments where Harris shows the pain of a mother watching her child implode, where Richardson’s neuroses click into place and the script’s darker subtexts are able to be furnished show the rich potential that this story ultimately has. Tom & Viv isn’t crying out for any retreads, and I’m not sure how much this story deserves to be saved from the unusual legacy of almost complete anonymity that only pedigreed English adaptations of biographies of poets resulting in two high-profile Oscar nominations can truly earn. But it’s not without its merits, and something this uneven has the kind of quiet but sturdy highs that can stand against its more visible and ungainly lows.

#my posts #my reviews #where were they then?

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hearts-of-paper · 7 years ago

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Sinful & Sweet

Yoongi x OC

Word Count: 2,152

Genre: Smut

Vampire!Yoongi/Demon!OC

Night children only show themselves in true form one day of the year, mostly in clubs and dark areas of the neighborhood. Nobody suspects them on Halloween, the one night of the year that vampires and werewolves and other such creatures can get away with not wearing a costume, letting out their fangs and allowing their eyes to take back their original scarlet color.

The first thing you noticed was his skin- soft, pale white that begged to be marked. It glowed in the dim light of the club as he stood on the sidelines, black leather jacket contrasting with his skin. Besides the fact that he was immensely hotter than any guy you’d ever seen before, there was no way anyone would be able to tell he was a vampire. But you knew. You knew because his eyes looked too red to be lenses, skin too pale to be makeup, features too sharp to be human. What really caught you was the scent that lingered on him when you passed him by. A human would barely be able to detect it, but to you, it was strong, enticing- the sweet scent of blood and roses. He’d had your attention since the moment you laid eyes on him from across the dance floor. You were intrigued. There was something about him that made you want to lean in and study him some more, something a little thrilling, just on the edge of terrifying.

“Come here often?” you ask as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. He takes the joke for what it is, fortunately, and his glowing red eyes scan you up and down shamelessly. “Shouldn’t that be my line?” His voice makes you shiver in the best way, a sharp tingle that shoots down your spine. “Only if you want it to be.” He grins like it’s a challenge, leaning against the bar and ordering two shots of vodka, handing you one when the drinks come up. You tell him your name after three shots and he returns the gesture after five. You match him shot for shot and he’s surprised that the alcohol hardly has any effect. Night creatures have always had strong alcohol tolerances, but even so, you’re not a lightweight by any means. “I’m impressed that you’re still on your feet,” Yoongi says after you’ve both reached eight shots. You’re starting to get a little tipsy, but you’re definitely still alright. You grin. “Did you think I was going to be an easy drinking opponent?” you challenge playfully and his eyes narrow- there’s something about you he can’t exactly place. Pushing a hand through his hair, he sighs, probably giving up on trying to figure you out as he scans the area. You can see in his eyes that he’s looking for a toy for the night, a play thing that he can toss away in the morning. The only person he’s shown interest in all night is you and, upon looking around, he’s probably the only one you’re interested in as well. “Hey, gorgeous, need some company?” says a voice on your right and you turn to see a tall, handsome guy, though looks to be younger than you. Black earrings glint in the dim lighting and as hot as he is, you instantly recoil. Werewolf. You’ve had bad experiences with them and you don’t want to deal with one now. “No, I’m fine, thanks,” you tell him, praying that he’ll give up and leave. But you know from experience that werewolves are pushy, spoiled creatures- and this one looks like a fuckboy to boot. “Oh c’mon, do you really want to be here by yourself?” He steps toward you and you frown, backing away until your back hits a very firm surface. Hands slide around your waist from behind and a firm voice says, “The lady said no. Back the fuck up.” You’re encased in the sweet smell of blood, roses, and alcohol, and the werewolf boy rolls his eyes and stalks off angrily. “You okay?” Yoongi asks as you turn in his arms. “Yeah,” you breathe, his scent making you dizzy with want, “I’m fine.” He releases you from his grip, but you reach out and grab his hand. Your gaze is cast downward, shy. “Thank you.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal but takes the opportunity to look you up and down again. “You should be more careful. Guys are suckers for dresses like that.” “Are you one of those guys?” you ask, and maybe it’s the alcohol finally taking effect, but there’s suddenly more confidence in your system. Yoongi doesn't reply, only takes a drink of what seems to be a white Russian and raises one eyebrow at you teasingly. Feeling bold, you take the glass from him and sip it yourself before setting it back down on the bar and taking his hand, pulling him close. “Dance with me,” you murmur, dragging him with you onto the dance floor. He doesn’t protest, to your surprise, and instead moves with all the fluidity of water. It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, his hands on your hips, your back to his chest. His scent is driving you crazy and you let it intoxicate you as the music slows to a bump-and-grind kind of tempo. The lights of the club flash and you’re slowly abandoning the self control that you’ve always kept so well in check, giving in to the beautiful mystery of the bright lights. There’s a blur on the edges of your vision, hazy and warm with lines being crossed that feel so wrong that they’re just right. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he inhales your intoxicating fragrance of spiced chocolate and sin- a combination he never knew he needed in his life until now. When your body starts to feel too warm, he notices. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs in your ear and you nod, allowing him to whisk you away from the dance floor. Before you can think twice, you find yourself in the passenger seat of a luxury car, pulling up to a high-end apartment building that only people of pureblood vampire status could afford. Yoongi, it seems, is one of them. He opens the door for you because he’s nothing if not a gentleman- at least for show- and pulls you into the elevator, not bothering to wait until the door closes to get his hands on you. His arms are around your waist, soft lips pressed to yours and your hands slide up his chest to wrap around his neck. You’re panting by the time the elevator comes to a stop. Yoongi manages to unlock the door while still kissing you- impressive, you note, he must do this often- and you don't even get to admire the gorgeous living space before he presses your back to the wall, his lips suck bruises into your shoulder. “Fuck,” you gasp as you throw your head back in response to him nipping at the most sensitive part of your neck. You feel his smirk against your skin and you pull his head back by his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. He allows you to be in control for only a second before he breaks the kiss. “On your knees,” he commands, his voice rough and deep. On any other night, you’d be the one to tease and take control, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you sink to your knees immediately, undoing his pants and wrapping your hand around his length. You start off with small, kittenish licks just to get a reaction out of him and he curses under his breath and grabs your hair. When you have him right on the edge, he stops you, pulling away as he tells you how good you look with your lips wrapped around his dick. Between one moment and the next, he’s pulled you up into his arms and moved you to his bedroom, pushing you down onto black silken sheets that scream to be defiled. His jacket and shirt are gone within a matter of seconds and he’s leaving marks on your neck, the scent of your blood so arousing that he’s conflicted as to what kind of hunger he’s feeling as one hand pushes up your dress. It’s off your body and on the floor by his shirt and jacket in a matter of seconds, leaving you in your lacy black underwear set, knee-high stockings, and heels as he moves down your body, marking your chest, stomach, and hips. Your bra follows the dress and his fingers run over the lace of your soaked panties and he smirks, making you blush without saying a word. “Already desperate, huh?” Yoongi rips the lace right off your body, tossing the scrap carelessly to the side. He pulls your body down the bed, kneeling before you and putting your legs on his shoulders before nipping his way up your inner thighs. “Y-Yoongi, don’t- shit,” you wail as his hot breath brushes against your sensitive core. His tongue teases you, slowly at first, working you up just like you had done to him. Your back arches off the bed and you can’t stop your hips from bucking up as he sucks harshly on your clit, bringing you to the brink of release. “Tell me how much you want it,” he says and you a whine slips through your lips. “P-Please, please Yoongi, I’ll do anything, I-” you break off mid-sentence as he pushes two fingers into you and curls them, sending you spiraling over the edge with a cry of his name. His other hand pins your hips down so you can’t move, forcing you to ride it out until the overstimulation has you begging for him to stop. You’re panting, sweating, utterly spent as he licks his fingers, making your face go red. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” he says, a devilish smirk crossing his lips, “we’re just getting started.” He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in, his moans layering with yours at the contact. “So fucking tight,” he mutters, starting off slow. His pace builds up as he runs his nose along your jawline, the tempting smell of your blood lingering in his senses. “I know what you want,” you murmur, your voice taking on a sultry tone that you haven’t used in a while, “so go ahead and take it.” He hesitates, unsettled by the thought of you knowing more about him than he does about you. You blink up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t you want me?” Eyes flashing red, he trails his lips down the side of your neck until he finds a spot that he likes, fangs snapping out at the uncontrollable desire for sweet, sweet blood. For a moment, you brace yourself as his sharp teeth sink downward into your skin. A sharp hiss escapes from you, but within a matter of moments you feel the endorphins seeping into your body, a euphoric sensation coursing through your veins. Yoongi’s breath hitches as soon as he tastes your blood. It’s different, sweeter than any he’s every tasted, with all the addictive qualities of dangerous narcotics. He can’t stop. The taste is too much but he can’t get enough and it’s not until you push him back weakly that he finally pulls away. He’s breathing heavily and his eyes are wild with lust. An animalistic rush overtakes him and he flips you over onto all fours, grabbing you by the hips and fucking you into the silk sheets, straight into another orgasm that has you calling his name in desperation. He reaches his end right after you, cursing and moaning your name before collapsing on the bed next to you. There’s only heavy panting to break the silence and it takes a full three minutes before he pulls the duvet over your bodies and wraps his arms around your waist. “So demons really are as good as they say,” he muses and you turn in his arms, confused. “How did you know?” He laughs. “No human can take that much alcohol and not be affected. And anyway,” he says, pinning you down beneath him, “your blood was too good to be human.” You smirk. “Well, we demons are the best at all of life’s taboos.” Yoongi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” “Wanna bet?” You roll on top of him, hand reaching down between his legs and jerking him off until he’s hard again, which doesn’t take long considering he’s a vampire. “Prove it,” he says, eyes going dark red again. You smirk, leaning down so your lips touch his neck, sucking harshly until a reddish mark stains his pale skin. “Fine, I will. We have all night.”

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miersports · 4 years ago

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How to Run Faster?

Running offers many benefits for your whole body. It can not only help to build strong bones, strengthen muscles and improve cardiovascular fitness, but also burn plenty of calories and help maintain a healthy weight.

Achieving a faster pace can be a thrill for runners, and it is also good for your overall health. Here are some tips to pick up the pace and improve your timing.

Warm-up and cool-down

Start each workout with a warm-up and finish with a cool-down. This allows you to gradually ease your body in and out of intense activity. Warm-up by walking or slowly jogging for five minutes, which can wake up your muscles and help stretch out your legs to prepare for a workout. Your body uses oxygen more efficiently, improving both your running speed and your overall endurance. Stretching after you run will help to prevent lactic acid buildup, which reduces swelling and muscle soreness.

Eat well

To improve your speed, you need to consider what you have put into your body. The right food at the right time can motivate your performance during running. There are several foods that runners should take into account in their eating list are:

Bananas -- a high-carb energy booster

Oats --high in carb and fiber

Peanut butter --rich in Vitamin E

Broccoli --full of Vitamin C

Plain Yogurt --perfect combination of carbohydrates and proteins

Dark Chocolate --lower your blood pressure and cholesterol level

Coffee --give your high-intensity interval training a boost

Tempo runs

Tempo runs are 10 to 45 minutes runs at a steady pace, which can help you develop discipline by controlling speed and help your bodies learn how to handle stress. You can practice the workout as following to catch your tempo:

Warm-up: easy pace (1 mile at 6.5 m/ph) for 5-15 min

Tempo：at least 20mins at a tough pace (3 miles at 7.5 m/ph)

Cooldown: easy pace (1 mile at 6.5 m/ph) for 5-15 min

Lateral exercise

You can do some lateral exercises like walking lateral lunges, step-ups, and shuffles to strengthen the muscles along the side of your body and move your body in a different direction. This improves mobility, eases low back pain, and stabilizes your hips, thighs, and knees.

Keep positive

Enjoy running and believe that you can strengthen your body. Take every running as an exploration.

There is nothing important than your safety. If you feel a little uncomfortable during running, slow down to walk or sit to find someone who can help you.

#Running Clothes #Running Shirts #Running Shorts

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pashpops · 4 years ago

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B.COY

B.coy are Boys (who have a) Crush On You! Sweet vocals, gentle demeanours, music never stepping above mid-tempo, lyrics always respectfully doting on the vague concept of "you", they're the non-threatening soft boy uwu group of your dreams! Just be a little wary of those twins…

Members: Haneul (maknae), Beau (leader (unofficial)), Seongjun, Changwook, Sangwook

Fandom name: Dearests

Stage Name: Haneul Birth Name: Heo Ha Neul Position: Vocalist, Maknae Birthday: 1999 Zodiac: Cancer Height: 170cm Weight: kg Blood Type: B Favourite Colour: Lavender, white Favourite Food: Milk chocolate Least Favourite Food: Dark chocolate Hobbies: Writing music, baking sweets

Facts: - Has loved singing and songwriting since he was a child, he’s a born ballad singer with a sweet, light, high-pitched voice. - Very polite and gentle, to the point of being a pushover. - So much natural aegyo! Gets very embarrassed about doing aegyo on purpose though. - Very shy and not very talkative unless he’s alone with Beau, who’s been actively trying to make him feel more comfortable and loosen up a little.

BEHIND THE SCENES DATA: - Imposter syndrome galore! Auditioned with a group of friends and only after MUCH convincing, wasn’t expecting to get in, but the company liked him so much they debuted him pretty much immediately. Woefully, woefully underprepared for being an idol and is always close to tears from stress and anxiety. - Weak-willed and will go along with anything if pushed. He was bullied a lot in school, and still hasn’t really realised that a lot of his “friends” are people who either expected him to fail his auditions and be humiliated or want to leech off him now he actually passed them and became an idol. - Extremely A Virgin. - Not only Extremely A Virgin but also very shy and awkward about the subject of sex and romance in general, but not repulsed. Very, very curious, in fact, especially when it comes to Beau’s off-handedly flirtatious comments and experienced demeanour...

Stage Name: Beau Birth Name: Byun Kwang Jun Position: Main Vocalist, Dancer Birthday: 1997 Zodiac: Taurus Height: 165cm Weight: kg Blood Type: O Favourite Colour: Teal Favourite Food: Beef carpaccio Least Favourite Food: None Hobbies: Singing, dancing, painting, cooking

Facts: - B.coy’s power vocalist with a smooth and romantic voice that suits both pop and ballads. - Very charismatic and flirtatious, he’s the best at giving fanservice, always happy to smile or wink or throw a heart for fans, and is always doing skinship with the other members. - B.coy’s de facto leader, despite being second-youngest, as he is very driven and they don’t have an official leader. - A logical thinker with a great memory who tears through books and actively enjoys dense theory. - Great with his hands, often taking apart and putting back together old or damaged electronics. - An accomplished painter, completed his college degree with an emphasis on fine arts and had sold quite a few of his paintings (mostly hypercolour landscapes and pop art-inspired portraits) before becoming an idol. - A fantastic cook, he considers food an artform and has a handwritten recipe book that he’s always adding to.

BEHIND THE SCENES DATA: - Honestly expected to debut as a soloist, but he’s grown to like being in a group as a very extraverted and very cuddly person. He still has the ambition to go solo, though, and he’s already done some solo OSTs for dramas which went over fairly well, but the company is more focused on promoting Seongjun. - Always has to be doing something otherwise he falls into depression. Has a lot of self-loathing deep down despite being a genuinely good person. - Not as experienced as he pretends to be around the boys, he had a girlfriend in high school which never went further than kissing and dry humping, and a few hookups with a roommate he had in college that never went further than mutual masturbation and giving him a blowjob one time. - Very aware of Haneul’s interest in him, probably more than Haneul himself is. He’s flattered, and flirts with him just as much as he does with everyone else because that’s just in his nature, but he’s also worried about breaking Haneul’s fragile heart and thinks he deserves someone as innocent as himself as his first love. (Is that it, though…? Or is Beau unable to handle the feelings stirring in his own heart?)

Stage Name: Seongjun Birth Name: Kim Seong Jun Position: Vocalist, Visual Birthday: 1994 Zodiac: Virgo Height: 182cm Weight: kg Blood Type: O Favourite Colour: Navy blue Favourite Food: Tuna Least Favourite Food: Grape flavoured sweets Hobbies: Working out, watching baseball

Facts: - Was street-cast while working as a waiter, hadn’t really thought about becoming an idol and was surprised as anyone when he became popular overnight for his kdrama actor-like looks. - Works out for at least 1 or 2 hours every day, even if they have practice all day long. - He’s the oldest member, so he often is treated as the leader but he’s too laid-back to actually lead. - Because he’s tall and fit with a small face and pale skin, he’s popular as a model.

BEHIND THE SCENES DATA: - Doesn’t really care much about being an idol and puts in pretty much the bare minimum effort. Likes that he gets attention from girls, but B.coy’s fanbase skews very young, and as an actor, most of the attention he gets from women is from aunties and grandmas, so they’re not the type of girls he particularly wants attention from. - Very mild-mannered, doesn’t often get angry or upset or really show many strong feelings at all. - Doesn’t really have much of a personality at all, and because of this and his generic good looks, he’s super popular with shippers, who can project any personality they want onto him. - However, in real life… is there something going on with Dain of Basier de Filles?

Stage Name: Changwook Birth Name: Bang Chang Wook Position: Rapper, Dancer Birthday: 1996 Zodiac: Leo Height: 177cm Weight: kg Blood Type: O Favourite Colour: Cyan Favourite Food: Banana milk Least Favourite Food: Black coffee Hobbies: Playing sport, playing video games, playing pranks

Facts: - The older of B.coy’s Twin Princes by 2 minutes. - Very high energy and talkative. - Loves skinship and is always cuddling with his brother or Beau. He likes bear hugs best! Either giving or receiving, and the tighter the better. - When the Bang Bros are dressed identically, the way to tell them apart is that Changwook has a very slightly thinner face and a smaller top lip. - #1 most used word: “noona!!!”

BEHIND THE SCENES DATA: - The only children of a very large family when they were born, so a bit spoiled and used to being the centre of attention at all times. - Very affectionate to the point it can get smothering, and gets hurt easily and starts sulking if his affection is ignored or worse, rejected. - Even though he’s a lot to deal with at times, he’s actually surprisingly mature when he needs to be. - The body of the Bang Bros, though that’s not saying much as they’re both pretty lanky.

Stage Name: Sangwook Birth Name: Bang Sang Wook Position: Rapper, Dancer Birthday: 1996 Zodiac: Leo Height: 177cm Weight: kg Blood Type: O Favourite Colour: Wine red Favourite Food: Tiramisu Least Favourite Food: Hardboiled eggs Hobbies: Playing pranks, clothes shopping

Facts: - The younger of the Twin Princes by 2 minutes, but he insists they’re exactly the same age. - Loves skinship and is always cuddling with his brother or Beau. He likes cheek kisses best! - When the Bang Bros are dressed identically, the way to tell them apart is that Sangwook has a very slightly rounder face and a fuller top lip. They’re super identical to the point that even their mother confuses them sometimes, which is why they part their hair and have piercings on opposite sides. - When they’re not dressed identically, it’s usually easy to tell them apart because Sangwook is very interested in fashion and always wearing trendy styles while Changwook doesn’t care much about that. - Like Changwook, he’s very high energy and chatty, but he’s more likely of the two to be sitting down.

BEHIND THE SCENES DATA: - The only children of a very large family when they were born, so a bit spoiled and used to being the centre of attention at all times. - SO MELODRAMATIC. While Changwook is prone to fits of overdramatising for attention as well, nothing Sangwook says can be taken seriously, as he’ll turn even the slightest inconvenience into a life-threatening situation which he needs to be rescued from and then fussed over until he feels better. - While still very affectionate by regular standards, he’s a little more self-absorbed than Changwook and would rather be complimented than give compliments. - Usually the one who comes up with prank ideas, even though he and Changwook almost always execute them together. - The brain of the Bang Bros, though that’s not saying much, as they’re both pretty dumb.

#group: B.coy #c: Haneul #c: Beau #c: Seongjun #c: Changwook #c: Sangwook #profile

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tryingtofeelanything · 7 years ago

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Do not wake me again

English Bungou Stray Dogs One shot Mostly SFW (but blood and injury + implied major character death depending on interpretation)

Hello, it’s been a while ! I’ve been so busy recently, I apologize for my inactivity. I still have some headcanons to come, I just need to actually stop and sit down to write them. Anyway, about this work. This my modest contribution for the @skkficexchange event, and my gift for @lenin-it-to-win-it (I really hope you’ll like this small thing !). I used their headcanon “elegical” for this one. So for once, the English version is posted first. I’ll post the French one soon. So, Merry Christmas if you celebrate it !

He was hot. Way too hot. At least too hot compared to the still quite chilly, spring temperature, making a slight breeze running between the high buildings of Yokohama. His heart, beating way too fast for the pace of his steps, could not deny the considerable responsibility it had in this reaction. It was frustrating. He was feeling like he was getting embarrassing teenage passions back, some that should only belong to the past. But well, this incontrollable emotional frenzy well and truly originated from his teenage years…

Keeping a blank expression happened to be something particularly intricate and the mere thought that everything was certainly displayed on his face with a traitorous sincerity only heightened the heat, located right between his cheeks. At least, the frustration caused by all of those unwilling reactions would be shown to everyone’s eyes. With a bit of luck, he could pretend it was a lack of consent to the current situation, as he was trying almost desperately to make others believe it. Foolishly. For two reasons. On one hand, because he was here willingly and had entirely agreed to the said situation, which was not deviating from what it was supposed to be for now. On the other hand, because it was not to Dazai he could hide the deepest truth of his thoughts.

The street was in a constant state of hustle and bustle, in front of their eyes, then behind each one of their steps. Right in between, some sort of enclosed but porous, transparent space, like a bubble, held a world apart for the two of them. Dazai’s hand was meeting his intermittently, a voluntary accident, an irresistible encouragement to entwine their slightly moist fingers. Their eyes were meeting each other regularly, following a wavering tempo ; with each time, surreptitious glances, inevitably attracting the other, like some pure instinct. Dazai sent him a smile full of gentleness every time. Chuuya did not know what to do with all of this tenderness ; no one had taught him how to receive so much at a time, and definitely not Dazai.

His ex partner’s hand broke the few resistances remaining between them and wrapped around his. His voice pulled him out of all of his questions with a not so familiar gentleness :

“Let’s make a stop here.”

In the space of a few seconds, he forgot to keep a pout on his face. His eyes stopped, attracted, as if under the yoke of a parallel force of gravity, in a chocolate-like ocean, before he realized he was supposed to follow the brown-haired head’s gesture, pointing a small, welcoming-looking cafe out. A new wave of warmth covered his chest, leaving a myriad of heady sensations there, just like some foam. All of them rushed to spot the perfect moment to steal one, or two, kisses between nosy eyes.

They reached his rib cage and stabbed right through his chest. A strong pain blinded him completely.

He calmly opened his eyes again under white sheets. Dazai’s body was pressed against his, their naked chest, hips, legs slowly gliding against each other to the rhythm of their breathing. Brown strands of hair gently tickled his cheek as lengthy kisses were continuously washed up on the pleasantly sensitive skin right under his ear. A bandaged hand slid its fingers between long, tawny-colored curls, stroking them, wrapping them around a loving forefinger, cherishing them like precious goods. His partner’s deep and warm voice whispered loving words between kisses. He could not understand their meaning, but he felt so peaceful, so… loved and loving, that he could not worry about it.

Despite his heavy and tired body, Chuuya turned a bit more towards Dazai. Seeking more warmth, more comfort… no, even, more fusion, he hunched even closer to him, nestling against the body, covered in slightly loose bandages. An arm welcomed him, sneaking around him. Rocked by the continuous whispers still going on right against him, he closed his eyes. His fingers could not stop from fiddling with the ring, warmed by his skin, and put around his left ring finger. The moment felt surrealistic, in the range of those one would not even dare to dream of. Maybe for the first time in his life, the young man felt contented, fulfilled.

Yet, on this moment, all he could acknowledge was nausea.

His knees crashed on the tough mattress of a hospital bed. The whiteness of the wall in the room blinded him. He closed his eyes, to avoid it as much as to fully enjoy Dazai’s lips that were submissively letting him devour them. He tilted his head, slid his hands on each side of the face framed with brown curls to keep it still, forced him to open up, to discover him again as if he did not know him inside out. A muffled moan vibrated against him. He did not let them catch their breath.

Dazai was shaking weakly between his fingers, still out of strength. He should probably act with more restraint. Chuuya could not. His partner, his cruel life companion, his… Dazai was panting right against him, was shuddering on his own because he was alive. His hands were still cold but not frozen. He had been afraid to touch them ; he was now holding them in his fingers, with enough strength to get sure they would not slip away from him anymore.

With the anxiety now subsided, he felt relief engulfing him with slow, successive waves. His kisses were getting less invasive, less hungry, were changing into stroking lips, into silent admissions. “I was so afraid”, on reddened lips ; “I thought I lost you”, on one of their corners ; “don’t ever leave me alone again” against a prominent bone of the jaw. The way the young man’s body sank back into the too hard pillow, the way he closed his eyes, the way he just let all of those gestures be, meant as many “I was too” “I did too”.

And yet, in this room that should smell like disinfectant and body heat, he only perceived the smell of blood.

The violent pain running through his rib cage made him open his eyes again, for good this time. He could hardly breath ; the oxygen was stuck halfway between his lungs and the outside. The blood flowing along his body was sticky and soaked him in a feeling of heat and frozen coldness in the same time. Except from the truly living body standing against him, this body that did not have to suffer from its strength pouring away like red water, burning against him as his own strength left him here and there. Dazai was holding him tightly while his muscles were getting gradually paralyzed because of this tremendous weakness ; his body heat was as unbearable as a wrenching flame, as his body could not find the needed energy to warm up anymore.

Ah, he was not hallucinating anymore. His diminished mind could not even grant him those last moments of break. He should probably blame Dazai’s presence on this brutal call back to reality. This Dazai was a bit less ideal. That had never stopped him from letting himself get attracted every single time, like a magnet, one too natural to be true.

The bullet in his thigh was causing the most important damages. Numbness from Corruption was destroying all hopes of recovery. It had blackened his guts, perverted his organs. The gentle effect of No Longer Human, like a lukewarm wave spreading its effects on every ability users, was giving him the last source of comfort. He had accepted it early in their partnership : like some light relentlessly attracting a moth, it was an enchanting feeling, a release from the devastating weigh of his own power cramming between his innards ; a momentary treatment, with illusory, but oh so comforting, results. Now, however, his body could not react to it anymore, and gradually escaped from his control, slowly extinguishing the flames of his consciousness.

A laugh, in which few traces of humor easily hided, shook him weakly. This mere shadow of a shudder immediately heightened the pain submitting his whole body to its mercy, forcing him to stop soon. With some difficulty, he could raise two eyes, with a slowly fading blue color, through eyelids that could not open fully anymore. Dazai’s dark irises looked almost too colorful to hold his gaze. The distress emanating from them was well and truly unbearable, though. The shadow of a question crossed them when faded blue met intense brown.

For split second, he could not tell if he was half lying on muddy ground, soaking in his blood, or in sheets vaguely smelling like Dazai’s perfume. It was this fragrance, he was smelling in a particularly strong way in a mix of death, violence and firearm, that granted him one last rush of lucidity, one enough to make him speak, whereas he could no move a muscle anymore.

“In the end… I’ve never been able to tell you that I love you.”

A strange light crossed Dazai’s eyes. He looked at him with a blank face for a while, before a sad smile appeared on his face, like a veil sliding from his head with gentleness, revealing a bit of honesty along his features. He whispered in his turn, not louder than Chuuya. As if he was loosing his ability to make physical efforts too.

“But you just admitted it, didn’t you, Chuuya ?”

“No. I never did. Genuinely. Not genuinely.”

Silence fell on them again. Speaking was getting far too difficult. The detective had understood what he meant. That’s what mattered. The embrace around him tightened even more. It made him feel dizzy ; but, in the same time, nothing else was holding him anymore, either his body, nor his consciousness. It only needed to drop him, and he would faint with it. Dazai was not allowing release that easily. For once, he was persisting on staying. For the first time. But as usual, he let him suffer until the end.

“It’s not important right now. You’ll still have time for that. You’re already halfway there.”

A few seconds were needed for Chuuya to realize who had just spoken. The young man’s voice was shaking so much that it was almost unrecognizable. And he was loosing his ability to perceive his environment more and more. He would have probably thrown up part of his guts, if his body had still been able to be shaken by spams.

Halfway ? Too far. No. He was almost there. So little time would have been needed…

Dull sounds and vibrations. Ah, some footsteps were coming their way. Allies, enemies ? Could they end his suffering instead of Dazai who would have never shown mercy until the end ? Finally, someone has came to release him. From Osamu Dazai’s shackle. From his physical embrace. From his mental embrace ? Would someone be able to cut those ties ? No, probably not. He should not get vain hopes.

Only a few steps away. It was so close. Was he about to reach it ? Right at this moment ? What ? For who ? Why ?

His head fell back against a scorching chest. It lifted to a rash rhythm. Panic ? Anxiety ? Or was that a normal rhythm he had just forgotten ? Darkness surrounded him. Ah, he could not keep his eyes open anymore.

Dazai always had cold hands. Yet, he suddenly felt so warm.

His lips moved on their own in a final delirium. In the very end, maybe Corruption should get the upper hand on Nakahara Chuuya.

“O grantors of dark disgrace,

do not wake me again !

I will endure my solitude,

Arms seeming already useless.”

“O eyes that open doubtfully,

Open eyes that stay motionless for a while,

Ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself,

O expectations, stale and dismal airs,

leave, leave this body of mine !

I enjoy nothing anymore but my wrecked dreams.”

#skkficexchange #bungou stray dogs #dachuu #soukoku #osamu dazai #chuuya nakahara #one shot #fanfiction #blood #injuries #character death #death

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cxmpbells-blog · 5 years ago

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