#except i don’t really like it on the striped t-shirt i think plain will be better

[sweetchilituna]

silly merchandise for my silly student radio show

(block printed patches hand sewn on thrifted t-shirts)

[alarawriting]

I Suddenly Found Myself In Class With Amnesia, but I'm the Teacher?!

Experimenting with trying to write in "light novel" style despite being an American who writes in English.

****

I couldn’t tell you what the last thing I remembered was, because I couldn’t tell what order any of them had happened in. Was the last thing I remembered sitting in the back of the English classroom, gossiping with Suzy and Chantel, quietly enough that our half-deaf and eighty percent dead old English teacher couldn’t hear us? What about that moment in science lab where I had a beaker and I was pouring liquid into a retort and then there was a bright light and a boom? Or could the last thing I remembered be the moment where I was crossing the street in front of the high school, and I had my head turned because I was talking to my friend Rob?

I’m a big fan of portal fantasy. English, American, Japanese, it’s all great. Someone walks through a closet and finds themselves in another world. Or they get hit by a car and they wake up in a strange place full of magic. Or they die and get reincarnated as a cute little baby. Usually in a strange place full of magic. Most of these stories involve strange places full of magic.

That might have been fun, if that had been what happened. But no. I suddenly found myself standing in front of a room full of high school students that were filing in the door and finding seats.

Was I giving a presentation? I looked around, but there was no teacher. And then I looked down at how I was dressed – a plain blue blouse with a little pleating, and a very pleated, dark blue skirt, with sensible flats like my mom might wear, and pantyhose, like I would ever wear pantyhose. And then I looked up again, at the students, who were looking at me, and I realized that while they were mostly wearing T-shirts and jeans, the colors and styles were all wrong. Lots of neon stripes, and strategic cuts, and all the sneakers were either black with fluorescent stripes of some kind, or bright colors. And several of the boys were wearing pink. And none of the hairstyles looked like anything me or my friends would be caught dead in.

I reached behind my head and found that my hair was in a bun. In the last things I could remember, my hair was in a pixie cut. Pixie cuts cannot be made into buns. Somehow time had passed that I couldn’t remember. A lot of time.

My hands looked normal. No rings. But my fingernails weren’t chewed. There wasn’t any nail polish on them, but they were neat and clean and didn’t look like fingernails I might have.

The students weren’t looking at me the way students look at other students who are up at the board to do a presentation; they were looking at me sullenly, or expectantly.

I realized then to my horror that I was the teacher here.

If I was the teacher, I absolutely could not have a panic attack, even though I felt like I was about to. I also couldn’t suddenly run off to the bathroom – in all my years of school I have never seen a teacher do that at the start of a class. Teachers always present themselves as perfectly in control, without basic human needs, or else the class senses weakness and eats them alive.

This was exactly the kind of situation you might think to yourself, I’m having a bad dream. But my feet hurt. The shoes were annoying me. I have never noticed how my shoes feel, in a dream. And I was wearing an underwire bra, which was digging into my skin under my breasts. This was not a dream; I don’t dream up those kinds of details.

So. Somehow I was the teacher. I had no idea what I was teaching. I had never wanted to be a teacher – I’d planned to be a marine biologist. A quick eyeball around the class didn’t give me any hints; it was a very, very generic classroom. I did have a whiteboard with markers instead of a chalkboard, and the students didn’t have notebooks in front of them; most of them had something that looked like a laptop monitor, except smaller and without a keyboard, like a really big cell phone. A few had pens, except they were probably styluses for writing on the laptop monitor things, somehow, because without paper I couldn’t imagine how they could use those as pens.

No one was taking out a textbook, either. Seriously, how was I supposed to even guess what I was supposed to teach?

I could run off, I thought. This wasn’t actually my real life. I wasn’t a teacher. I was a high school student. This had to be some kind of Freaky Friday craziness where I’d swapped places with a teacher, somehow.

But… that was a ridiculous idea. Whereas the idea that somehow, something had happened to my brain and I’d suddenly lost years of memory and started thinking I was still a high school student when in fact I was a grown adult teacher… was possible. Implausible, and I didn’t like the idea at all, but it was more likely to be true. And if it was true, that meant this was my real life. This was my real job. And I’d be fired if I admitted I’d suddenly had some kind of brain damage that wiped out my memories of however many years it had been since I was a high school student. Somehow I had to fake my way through this, at least long enough to figure out what was going on.

The bell had rung a minute ago. The students were, mostly, pretty quiet, looking at me expectantly. I’m sure my lack of responsiveness was starting to seem weird.

I had to do something quick.

“We’re going to do something different today, students,” I said, wondering, as I said it, if I or the person whose life I’d stolen said things like “students” to address the class. “Let’s pretend I have total amnesia. I walked into this classroom, and wow! I don’t know my name and I’ve never been here before. Write me a short essay, in your own words, about what we’ve been learning for the past couple of weeks. Fill me in! Pretend I don’t know anything!”

[wolf-and-bard]

Bad Reputation

Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Jaskier/Eskel, ~1.3k, rated T, no warnings

Written for @thewitcherbog fic train event together with @kueble, @professorjaskier, and @softdarlingjaskier so be on the lookout for their parts in the next few days. It was so much fun!! 😊💕

---

“Ta-da,” Jaskier says with a flourish of his hand, and gestures at the dress-form he has set up in the middle of the living area of his rooms at Oxenfurt, all furniture pushed to the side. The mannequin is clad in a positively stunning arrangement, an unpretentious doublet of deep burgundy with subtly golden ribbons at the cuffs and seams, a matching pair of cotton breeches. Underneath, an almost-black silken shirt. It’s plain for Jaskier’s tastes and habits, but it’s perfect for its recipient whose suspicious gaze is currently flicking between Jaskier and the clothes. 

“What is that?” Eskel asks, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He’s wearing his typical red-and-dark stripe with those small spikes on the shoulders that Jaskier thinks are honestly ridiculous. Not big enough to work as any form of weaponry or defense mechanism, too dismissable to count as a fashion statement. Yeah, right. Wolves and fashion. Ridiculous.

Jaskier snorts and watches Eskel watch the dress-form, wary and uncomprehending to a point that is just adorable. 

“That, my dear witcher, is an outfit. Your outfit to be precise. That is to say, the outfit you will wear tonight.” Jaskier puts on his brightest sunlight-smile, hoping it will cover up the awkwardness he can feel tightening his throat. This could have started better. But then again, this could have started so much worse. Eskel could already be out the door what with him just having arrived, swords still strapped to his back, one hand fisted around the plain linen sack he keeps most of his belongings in. 

“Do I look like Geralt to you?” Eskel asks, brow raised which contorts the landscape of scars that cover half his face, stretching them out. Jaskier’s fingers itch to reach out and trace them, they always do whenever Eskel graces him with a visit to his apartment.

It’s about the only place they ever cross paths. With Geralt, Jaskier is bound to stumble into him in the most ridiculous of places and predicaments, as though Destiny wills it so. With Eskel… well. Jaskier learned early on in their acquaintance that finding Eskel anywhere takes effort, so it’s easier to have Eskel find him. The wolf sticks to himself almost all year round, avoids big cities and gets by on mysterious, long-winded contracts that take him to places most of the rest of the world has forgotten about. Jaskier has never once accompanied Eskel on one of his hunts, and that is perhaps why he often feels that a certain distance remains between them, no matter how often Eskel comes around.

And Eskel does, with striking regularity. At least once, whenever Jaskier’s staying in Oxenfurt for longer than a handful of days. He’ll always bring something too; a fine Toussaint vintage for them to share, a hearty piece of salt-crystal cheese for them to put on their bread, some pickled fish straight from the Skellige Isles. It isn’t always edible or drinkable, sometimes it’s useful like a pretty button or a new set of lute strings. There is no rhyme or reason to Eskel’s little gifts, just one thing that threads through them, and it is that every time, they take Jaskier by surprise. Eskel is so very reliable and Jaskier’s brain still hesitates to form expectations. Expectations can get crushed and he has already invested more heart into this relationship than is strictly healthy.

“Jaskier?” Eskel asks into the silence which has speeded by for Jaskier with his mind reminiscing, but which must have dragged excessively for the witcher. To Eskel’s credit, he doesn’t show the slightest twitch of impatience. 

“Of course you don’t,” Jaskier says, shuddering inwardly. Outwardly, his smile freezes over.

You look nothing like Geralt, he doesn’t say though he knows that with taking away the scars and dyeing Geralt’s hair, they would look strikingly similar. There are no pictures of Eskel before, but it didn’t even need Vesemir telling Jaskier this for the bard to notice. They have the same cut of jawline, same set of their shoulders, a similar nose. But that’s artificial and if one looks closely, the similarities start to fall away pretty quickly.

You look much more beautiful than him – sorry Geralt, but it’s true, is what Jaskier also doesn’t say even though his rapidly beating heart keeps commanding him to.

“Then why would I wear this? What for?”

“Oh nothing special, just a wee little occasion, really.”

“Jaskier…”

“A-hem, right. The school-board is throwing a fancy dinner party tonight and I have been invited as a guest. I thought you might want to join me… be my partner if you will.”

Oh, but that feels daring. That feels very daring. 

Eskel cocks his head, golden eyes boring into Jaskier’s. Jaskier feels his cheeks heat and licks his lips. 

“Can’t I go the way I am?” the witcher asks finally. 

“Ah, well,” Jaskier says and swallows. “Well, you see… there’s nothing wrong with the way you are, necessarily, but… it’s, well. They are very important people and I have a certain standing within the university. A reputation to maintain, if you will.”

“You?” Eskel raises a brow. “A reputation to maintain?”

A reputation other than drinking and whoring around, is what Eskel doesn’t say, but it is heavily implied and not even in a condescending manner. Eskel knows Jaskier the flamboyant bard, Jaskier the man with an eye for a good party, Jaskier that will drag any conquest into his bed regardless of whether there’s a witcher crashing in his guest bedroom or not. And even though Eskel’s been visiting him in Oxenfurt, in his rooms at the heart of the academy, Professor Pankratz is a complete stranger to both Eskel and Geralt. They know of him, of course, but they don’t know him.

“Yes, me,” Jaskier says. “A Professor at this university and highly valued member of several poet’s societies and bardic unions.”

“Trust a fucking academic to demand I dress up for him.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to trust anyone around here?” Jaskier retorts in what he hopes is a light note, but something has settled in the pit of his stomach at Eskel’s words, even though they were meant in jest. If this was Geralt, there would have been a deeper meaning woven into the words. In this regard too, Eskel is very different from Geralt in the manner in which he deals out his faith. He was wary when they first met at Kaer Morhen, of course; careful. But one night under the tightly-woven tapestry of constellations above the keep together, watching from the battlements while the temperature still allowed it, and Eskel turned from cool indifference to a low simmer of secretive smiles and sidelong glances. Jaskier can’t help but wonder if - for all of Eskel’s straightforwardness - there is still a hidden fuse he’s about to light up like a damn wildfire one day.

“I thought you were the exception,” Eskel grumbles and sighs deeply. Still eyeing the doublet wearily, the wolf witcher begins to pace around it, circling it as though it is a ghoul about to jump him and not his dress for the night. It would have been quite funny too, if it didn’t make Jaskier ponder so much. He doesn’t like pondering, not before an evening of events. He isn’t here to think, which would lead to dissecting, which would lead to inspiration and doubt at the same time. Jaskier has many doubts, especially when the handsomely rugged witcher in front of him is involved and he suspects there’s no glazing over them now, not when big words such as trust have been thrown this carelessly into the room. 

“I hoped I would be,” Jaskier admits begrudgingly and carves out another smile, if dampened. “Will you come along then? It would mean the world to me.”

[lesbianrobin]

hello em i have a request. can u please rate mr harrington's looks/outfits i just feel like u have the best takes and i'd LOVE to know how you'd rank his choices 👀

this is the single greatest ask i’ve ever received. i will be ranking the outfits, not steve’s moral alignment or actions in each scene. in order of appearance:

The Introduction

4/10

hair is tragic

steve copied this entire fit from a mannequin in the ralph lauren polo outlet store

would honestly be a 0/10 except for the obvious valiant effort being put forth by his lower half to resist the sexless curse of khaki pants. the devil (st costuming department) works hard but by god steve harrington (joe keery’s body) works harder

nice brown watch that certainly came from a department store

also gains points for being next to nancy’s anemic librarian fit, thus looking better by comparison

The Rich Bitch

8/10

thank god he ditched the khakis

hair looks much less demonic

it’s a simple look but the sweatshirt rides up when he shotguns the beer

he also gets wet

solid 8 for sluttiness alone

The Whore

10/10

wet

please note that his chest is waxed. keep this in mind.

The Heterosexual

2/10

hair looks like he dipped his head in glue

bold choice with the grey pants. unfortunately that choice was wrong

matching outfits with your comphet girlfriend isn’t as cute as you think it is stevie

you only get points because despite that ungodly pastel stripe pattern the polo’s decently fitted and makes your arm look kinda nice

The Dickhead

3/10

glue head pt. 2

at least the stripes aren’t pastel this time

The Cuck

6/10

hair slightly less glue-y

yet another striped polo is peeking out unfortunately

but! it’s green and green looks good on him

finally wearing jeans like a normal fucking human instead of weird slacks

pivotal moment in steve’s fashion evolution from preppy male model to sexy morally upright king

his morals are stored in the denim

The Final Girl

9/10

an outfit with a character arc to rival steve’s own

pretty fucking good hair if i do say so myself!!

it’s fluffy!

that shit looks like if you touched it it’d be soft... no glue here!

finally not copying from the goddamn l.l. bean catalog

iconic green slut sweatshirt? check! jacket and nikes? check! fucked-up gorgeous face and baseball bat full of rusty nails? check, baby!

looks good on its own OR with some blood on top

overall a very solid look

The Darling Little Drummer Boy

7/10

babe no... please don’t go back to the khakis... they won’t treat you like jeans do...

not quite glue head but not his best

apparently steve owns a single green sweatshirt, a thousand striped polos, and one very precious christmas sweater

almost makes up for prep-related khaki crimes by being really fucking cute

The Simp

8/10

glue head is DEAD

further evidence that steve harrington’s entire closet is just striped polos

this is his fifth unique striped polo

most of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

actually all of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

he’s finally let go of the fucking pastels thank jesus

and you can’t see it but he did wear jeans with this fit i just forgot to make sure they were pictured and it’s 4:15 am so i don’t feel like going back to remake this collage

cannot tell if this is a lighter blue version of the jacket he wore three times in s1 or if it IS the jacket he wore three times in s1 and the color grading is just that different

either way he loves jackets and i think that’s very sexy of him

The Intellectual

9/10

i’ve been waiting for this one... turn it up!

literally invented vests

excellent hair

loses a point for unfortunately introducing steve’s SIXTH unique striped fucking polo

i can’t see the collar but i know it’s there i know you’re wearing another fucking polo steve you can’t hide from me

can’t decide if he looks gay or just really preppy but either way he’s got some repression going on

still a very solid look

The Oh No Oh God It Hurts I’m Looking Away I Can’t Watch This

10/10

yes that middle picture is absolutely to show off the texture of his blazer and not at all me making sure that if i have to see his heartbroken little face then you all do too

anyways i Know that blazer cost at least $100 like i Know that shit’s expensive

excellent gorgeous soft-looking hair that someone ought to run their hands through but only people who haven’t dated him for a year while pining after someone else

emotional devastation... but make it unbelievably fucking sexy

stevie baby i know you’re a colorful guy but please wear more black

The Meathead Jock

9/10

aw christ whatever happened to standards?

introduction of the blue nikes <3

god his hair looked fucking good here

could have gained that final point by using tube socks with blue and GREEN stripes to tie together the shoes and the gym uniform :/

shorts could be shorter but are an altogether appropriate and enjoyable length

fun sweatstain to customize the look <3

The (is there a word for victim of bullying?) Serious Athlete

8/10

the yellow stripe was more fun

still cute though

The Sudsy Boy

11/10

wet

suds indicate that he’s washing his hair, presumably with faberge organics. is this why he’s being bullied?

steve brings his faberge organics shampoo and conditioner and his farrah fawcett spray to school with him whenever he has basketball practice

steve either has shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray in his backpack at all times, or he has a separate gym bag that’s mostly haircare products

just need to make sure we all know that

excellent freckle showcase

his chest is still waxed. please, i beg, keep this in mind

one of his strongest looks

The Babysitter

10/10

his most versatile look to date

a different jacket than the one(s) he’s worn before but it still has the same kind of collar. steve found a jacket he liked and bought it in at least three colors

the whole thing fits So fucking nicely! shirt, jacket, jeans... baby boy is TAILORED

return of the white nikes with the red check indicate that they are his fashion nikes, while the blue nikes with the white check are his sport nikes. interesting.

this fit lasts like 48 hours and steve simply looks sexier as time goes on which is a testament to its quality as well as his inherent power

every new accessory elevates his appearance. roses, nail bat, rubber gloves, blood, sweat, band-aids, bandana, goggles... each element complements the look in its own way!

an overall win

The Chauffeur

8/10

we can’t really see the whole fit but he’s not wearing a striped polo so i’m calling it a win regardless of what’s on his bottom half

cannot give him a 10/10 though because he might be wearing khakis

red is such a nice color on him when it’s not just from his blood

i lied when i said he should wear more black he should wear more colors

that plain sweater absolutely cost $85 or more

hair looks very nice and soft

excellent look!

The Sailor Man

9/10

very precious

absolutely the best hair i’ve ever seen

baby boy got highlights for his hot girl summer!

bright colors make his very red lips pop

shorts could be shorter

love the little accents! especially the white pockets and belt

excellent color coordination on steve’s part with the blue sneakers (notably different than his s2 blue basketball nikes) and the red bruising/blood

i hope you remembered that steve’s chest was waxed. as you can see his chest is now unwaxed. some change between s2 and s3 drove this decision, presumably either his breakup with nancy or the fact that he no longer showers in front of other guys at school. up to your interpretation

shock blanket at the very end is a nice touch so we don’t forget he’s traumatized

The Drowned Rat/The Man Overboard

10/10

wet

shorts could be shorter

the decision to purchase and wear a hoodless raincoat is absolutely ridiculous and stupid

however it is also very steve harrington and i value self-expression

The Chick Magnet/The Flaming Homosexual

100/10

what can i even say about this fit?

the absolute best pants he’s worn thus far. amazing fit, excellent classic wash. i say this as a former american eagle outfitters associate and the winner of my freshman year dorm’s “best at folding jeans” award

manages to make blue jeans with a half-blue denim vest work effortlessly

bold primary colors make him stand out without being too gaudy

excellent pairing of t-shirt with simple stripes and vest with simple color blocking to create a complex yet cohesive and flattering look

simple brown belt gives the look a put-together yet down-to-earth vibe

hair has only gotten better

still wearing that same brown watch that he’s had since the introduction

this man looks like he waxes his chest

this is steve in his final form

thank you for your time

[oh-boy-me]

Casual Outfits Discussed

@themarchinghare Ok >:3c

These hot takes analyses and opinions are based entirely on the concept art of the demon brothers’ casual outfits.  So any in-game features not present in the concept art aren’t discussed.  We’re looking at the outfit as a whole, but occasionally we do talk about individual features.

Also please don’t take this seriously, we just had a lot of fun shitting on the Seven Power Avatars of Sin, Rulers of Hell Itself™’s questionable fashion sense.  I would still die for these boys, terrible taste in shoes or not.

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), my roommate and an art major with storyboarding and character design experience

Justin ( @justinlester0629​ ), my go-to fashion expert for at least a decade and very possibly a future male model

Noodle (Me), untrained eye and resident fashion decade disregarder

With the exception of a few choice quotes, our thoughts and conclusions are all mixed in with each other.  Quotes are mildly paraphrased.

Lucifer:

The colors are good; the blacks and grays are all in the blue-gray family, and there’s a pop of color with the gold belt and red vest.

But he paired a black suit with brown shoes????  SIN

“You should always match your belt with your shoes and those shoes are not gold.” —Justin

Justin on the coat: “I love it, the pattern of the inner lining is throwing me off but it’s not bad, and the fur is perfect because it’s associated with power.”

Me on the coat: “I don’t know about you but I bet that coat looks dumb as shit if you put your sleeves through it.”

WITHOUT the coat though his cuffs scream “I am dealing for blackjack and rolling craps.”  Lucifer looks like he could walk into and out of a casino whenever he pleases and everyone would assume he works there.

“Dress shirts don’t work like that.  He got a size too big.” —Jo

The belt isn’t doing anything functionally, but it’s very important because it balances things out from being too top-heavy.

Out of the belt, shirt cuffs, and coat cuffs, two of them should have matched.

We’re nitpicking because in general it’s a good design.  Lucifer has no taste in shoes but that aside is capable of dressing himself.

Mammon:

“That’s western Danny Phantom if I’ve ever seen it.” —Justin

Very nice coat 10/10 would wear.

The colors are odd, he mixes black and brown too, but the other colors mixed in makes it work in a cute way.

“The only things that clash are the shirt and jeans, he could replace the gray shirt with either a black one or a lighter one to match the boots.” —Justin

He’s got a cat toy on his belt.  I admire his preparedness for feline encounters.

The cat toy also balances out his rings nicely, since the toy is on his left hip and the rings are on his right hand.

The yellows in the shades, belt, and cat toy are placed very nicely and are the best part of the outfit.

Honestly except for the shirt color and the fact that fur-lined boots are out of style we don’t have much bad to say about his design.  Mammon’s casual outfit lives up to his model career.

Leviathan:

“Ugh, god.” —Justin

The headphones don’t match with anything, and ever color he’s wearing is so bright they REALLY don’t match.

Headphones aside he chose ok colors to supersaturate, but also like, supersaturation is very very loud.

It kind of looks like he bought two different tracksuits and forgot they were two different outfits.

The pants don’t match themselves.

“He color coordinated his pant cuffs and his shirt and thinks it makes it ok.” —Jo

The jacket itself is nice, the pins are really good and I appreciate that they’re opposite the stripes in his shirt.

Justin hates the gray stripe though because it looks like either part of the jacket or a girl scout sash.

“That shirt should not be collared.” —Jo

“The shoes look like what Kanye West would design but if they were sold on Wish.” —Justin

It’s kind of just… he took the RGB color wheel and went with it.  It’s just loud.  If he just changed some colors he’d be fine.  Leviathan please I have hope for you.

Satan:

“He looks like a gay prep school person.” —Justin

Satan wore 100 shades of green and said “yes this is peak fashion.”  And you know what, it objectively sucks but I’m kind of living for it?

Rip off jeans that can’t actually be ripped off because of the VERY stylish belt?  Iconic.

Green deep v-neck sweater over a gradient t-shirt and a jacket with the sleeves too short, this man only shops at Goodwill.

The one-shoulder jacket look gives the outfit some personality and I’m really glad he isn’t wearing it properly because looking at it alone I wouldn’t be caught dead in that jacket.

“While good for the design, it’s a mix between business and athletic and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” —Jo

(Jo also said some jackets are designed with sleeves like that but with the color choices it’s just… not good.  Justin pointed out that the sweater and jacket do match though.)

The chocolate loafer-style shoes take away from the rest of the outfit.

“Any other shade of green besides Crayola green would have been better for his nails.” —Justin

Listen it’s so bad it’s good, Satan’s fashion sense is “blue-green.”  We basically ripped into it the whole time but I’m pretty sure it was the universal favorite.

Asmodeus:

“Just from the back he looks like a cool dude and then the front of him screams douche.” —Jo

Asmo’s outfit is actually ok, but he has one fatal flaw: If he takes off his jacket it’s way too plain, but with the jacket it’s kind of too much.

It’s also kind of confusing, because it looks both casual and formal from different angles.  “I’m not sure I like the cut in the front with the t-shirt showing underneath.” —Justin

The shirt is nice but a color that contrasted his skin more would have been nice.

The pants are killer, and the white stitching matches the jacket really well.

The gold accents on the jacket are also good and would match the belt really nicely if the belt wasn’t some ugly mustard color.

This boy is wearing mustard belt and ketchup pants.

Inoffensive shoes which is really the best I can ask for with these boys.

“The scarf.  I like it, but I’m not sure how I feel about it because there’s just so much going on with both it and the jacket.” —Justin

“That’s not a scarf, it’s too long.  It’s like.  A really long strip of cloth.” —Jo

Anyway all in all there’s a little much going on in the front but it’s one of the better looks, good job Asmo.

Beelzebub:

Justin looked at the picture and immediately put his phone down.

“First impression is he looks like Naruto if he got his head lodged in Doritos.” —Justin

“He looks like he’s the carpet of the arcade portion of a skating rink.” —Jo

“He shouldn’t be wearing orange tones.” —Justin

Legitimately we were at a loss for words for a considerable time.  We just kept staring at it.

To start he’s got a lot going on but it feels like he looked in the mirror before leaving his room.  Not saying he did the best job but at least he looked at himself.

The jacket alone is great, but why is it fur-lined?  It throws off the urban design.

But finally some good fucking shirt.  We have mixed opinions on the triangles (I like them, Justin doesn’t but appreciates that the pattern continues on the back) but all like the cut.

Living for the necklace-bracelet combo.

Jo says the biggest problem is that there’s color-matching but in weird places and not enough of it.

Jo hates the pink belt and Justin hates the green suspenders; we concluded that one of them should have been excluded.

His choice in sneakers is not as bad as Levi’s but still not very good.  The laces shouldn’t be green.

This sounds like a lot of complaining but if he cleaned up the belts and ditched the fur it’d be a fine look.

Belphegor:

“Oh shit oh god.” —Justin

“The top half is for sleeping and the bottom half is for riding.” —Jo

Absolutely disgusting, mustard yellow pants tucked into brown lace-up combat boots?  Disgusting.

The shoes alone are nice but the mustard pants don’t work at all.  There’s no cutoff between blue and mustard.

Also he has really broad shoulders, just noticed that looking at this.  That has nothing to do with this but it does affect how his cardigan sits on him.

I personally would wear that cardigan, a hooded cardigan?  Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Justin pointed out that the button lining is weird, and the inside is a weird contrast with the pocket.  He’s right, but I think it’s an endearing mess.

Why do I look at him and feel like he needs to do laundry?  I think it’s the t-shirt.  It would have been better as a collared shirt, taking the hood off the cardigan in return.

You can’t convince me the avatar of sloth laces those boots every day, he sleeps with his shoes on and that’s a worse sin than sloth.

“The pillow’s not part of the outfit?  Oh thank god.” —Justin

Jo said we were being too mean and that it’s not the worst outfit out there, and from the waist up they’re right.

But damn Belphegor the condiment war called and they want the bottom half of their uniform back.

[my-soul-sings]

His Prize

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Yooha/Reader

A/N: Inspired by Yooha’s new If evermore! ;) 

***

The stadium erupted into rapturous cheering and clapping that resounded in your ears. People were on their feet, shouting the names of the members from the winning team, whistling and popping confetti to celebrate their victory. 

Amidst all the noise and action going on around you, it seemed you were the only one standing still, with your lips parted, arms by your side. 

All you could see was him; his handsome grin as he held up the shining golden champion trophy, the droplets of sweat running down his face, neck and arms, and his piercing silver eyes that were fixed on you. Only you.

“How about we make a bet? If I win the game later, you’ll go with me to prom.”

His words echoed in your mind and you swallowed, heart starting to hammer against your ribcage. Was this really going to happen? You, a nerd, going to prom with the most popular guy in school? 

Even though you were standing at the fifth row, not too far from where he was on the field, it felt like you were worlds apart. There he was, surrounded by his teammates tackling him with hugs and high-fives, while you stood here, dressed in a plain striped T-shirt and shorts, in a sea of people who were dressed to the nines, ready to party later and maybe make some moves on Yooha. You had heard that a few girls were planning to talk to him after the game, to see if he had a partner for prom.

A sweeping glance at the crowd made you see just how pretty all the girls here looked—why would he choose you?

He must have been joking when he said that. Yooha was just the kind of guy who said the most ridiculous things without thinking too much, who teased people with his silly jokes and offended the occasional person if he said something a bit insensitive. 

Or maybe he said that because you’d told him earlier that you would just be going to prom with your friends. So there. What he said wasn’t anything special, there was no deeper meaning to it. You could stop overthinking now.

Except it was hard to stop overthinking; you had been trying to stop for the past month, but to no avail. Every time he came close you would breathe in the cologne on his jacket, and your heart would flutter no matter how many deep breaths you too to calm down. 

Eventually it came to a point where you realised that the reason you got so nervous around him was because you had come to like him. The guy who liked to mess with you and laugh when you pouted at him, the guy who would hold your bag even if you insisted it was light enough, the guy who would wait for you to walk home together after school... 

And your mind would go places. Ponder over the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he might like you back. 

But then reality would pull your head down from the clouds, sending you sprawling across the dirt. The reminders were everywhere: when you looked at how close he was to the most popular girls in school, when you happened to overhear the compliments he gave them, and when you saw the look in their eyes:

It was the same way you looked at him. 

And for some reason you started to feel the need to hide your feelings, you started to think that your throbbing heart and your wandering daydreams of him were embarrassing. Something to be kept in the shadows, hidden from sight. 

He couldn’t ever find out. 

So when he casually asked you last week if you liked anyone, you had lied and said vaguely that you had a crush on someone other than him. It wasn’t the most convincing lie you had come up with, seeing as you couldn’t even look him properly in the eye when you said that, but he seemed to believe it. He had laughed it off and wished you good luck with a smile on his face. 

And that day, he had headed home without you. 

For the rest of the week it felt like he talked less to you, cracked fewer jokes and didn’t laugh as much. Made the occasional reference to your crush and probed for some description of him. And since you couldn’t make things up off the top of your head, you started describing him, although you changed a few details about the appearance of your “crush” to avoid being found out.

He seemed to believe everything—it made you wonder if you were better at lying than you thought you were. 

For a couple of days things sort of went back to normal. Until this afternoon, when he asked to meet you in between classes, on the rooftop. 

“So... you’re not going to prom with your crush?” 

His eyes looked unsure. Something very uncharacteristic for Yooha. 

“No,” you replied. “He... doesn’t attend this school.”

“Right... um in that case, how about... hmm...” The heavy words dragged across his tongue, hesitation making his voice softer, lacking the usual confidence he exuded. 

“Yooha?”

It was like saying his name was the magic word. 

His eyes darted towards yours, and he cleared his throat, resolve settling in his determined gaze and his clenched jaw. 

“Go to prom with me.”

At first his words didn’t register in your head. You thought you had heard wrong—maybe you were finally starting to hallucinate, or the wind had distorted his voice somehow. 

“Um... what?”

“Go to prom with me.” He uttered the same words, louder and clearer this time so you couldn’t chalk it up to coincidence, or a mistake with your hearing. 

Even though you had thought about this for a while—imagining going to prom with him, your hands in his, slow dancing in the night and swaying to the soft beats of the music—you couldn’t shake off the shock and disbelief.

All you could manage was a single word. 

“Why?” 

“I know you have a crush on someone else,” he said, scratching the back of his head and twisting his lips, “but... it’s not like he’s here anyway. So I was thinking... maybe we could go together.”

“Don’t you have other people to go with?” you asked, thinking back to what you’d heard from the girls in your class. “A lot of girls are waiting for you to ask them.”

At that, he frowned, and you bit down on your lip, wondering if you’d said something you shouldn’t have. 

"I’m not that interested in going with anyone else.” 

“Oh.” 

Your answer fell flat, but you didn’t really know how else to respond. Go to prom? With Yooha? What did that even mean? You didn’t want to get your hopes up. It was painful enough trying to deal with the overthinking. He might even find out that you liked him—everything would be revealed the moment he felt your heart racing as he held your hand in his. 

“You... don’t want to go with me?”

Your mind snapped back to reality then, and your attention returned to the man standing in front of you, searching your gaze for an answer. For a hint to what you were thinking so hard about. 

“It’s not that,” you blurted, shaking your head. “Not at all. I was just... thinking.”

“About?”

“Um...” Your mind chose the worst possible time to draw a complete blank. You couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for your lackluster response. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to say ‘yes’, but so many other thoughts were running through your mind. You needed some space and time alone to think, which you didn’t have right now. 

“I... have to go soon,” his voice broke the silence, the light from his phone screen glowing on his features briefly before he locked it again and stuffed it into his pocket. “Gotta get ready for the game.”

Oh right, the game. You had almost forgotten.

“You’re coming to watch, right?” Yooha asked, a smile brightening his features. 

You mirrored it, nodding. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“In that case...” Something seemed to click in his mind. You knew what that playful smile and the mischief twinkling in his eyes meant. 

He had an idea. 

“How about we make a bet? If I win the game later, you’ll go with me to prom.”

It was a ridiculous bet, with no rhyme or reason to it. Yet at the same time, it was so him. 

“W-What?”

“It’s settled then! I gotta head off first, but I’ll see you later at the stadium!” Without giving you any time to respond, he fled the scene with a nonchalant wave of his hand as he went. 

The memory started to wash away and your mind returned to the stadium and its the raucous cheers that seemed to be louder than before.

It didn’t take long for you to find out why.

Yooha was standing on the base of the steps, his piercing gaze on you. People seemed to be staring, following his eyes to where you were standing, and everyone watched as he started to jog up the stairs, rapidly closing the distance between you two. 

“Hey.” 

He smelled of sweat, his hair was matted to his forehead. His uniform was also a uniform shade, completely soaked in his perspiration that was still spilling down his face, neck and arms. You could feel the heat radiating from his body when he stood in front of you, and his hot breaths fanned across your forehead.

Your pulse started to race. And soon you were sure that your cheeks were burning at the same temperature. You just hoped your face wasn’t glowing pink yet. 

“H-Hey,” you said back with a nervous smile. “Congrats on winning.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, and the wink that followed sent an arrow through your heart. For a moment you thought it had stopped beating entirely.

“So... remember the bet we made?” he asked, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you.

“You mean the bet you made?” You didn’t even get the chance to agree to it, he had simply run off after saying whatever he wanted. 

His laugh had no trace of remorse in it. “Same thing,” he grinned. “I know I’m not as great as your crush. Still, would you go to prom with me, smarty?”

Cheers and whistles erupted from all around you. There were probably some hot glares coming your way too, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. Nor could you tame the butterflies in your stomach at the sound of the nickname he liked to tease you with. It sounded much more tender and affectionate than how he usually said it.  

Maybe that was what gave you the sudden boost of confidence. It was the push you needed to realise that maybe... maybe it would be okay to say this now. 

“Yooha... you aren’t as good as my crush.” 

There were gasps, some of the people who were cheering went awkwardly silent. And you saw the smile on his face falter. 

“You are my crush.”

It took a second, and maybe one more, before his eyes widened, and his lips parted. In that moment you felt more vulnerable than you had ever been—with all eyes on the two of you, your confession lingering in the silence between you two. One second stretched into minutes, hours... it felt like an eternity as you waited for his response. 

Sudden fear pricked at you. What if you had been wrong? What if you had just set yourself up for embarrassment in front of everyone? Gosh, why didn’t you just say this when it was just the two of you? Or better yet, not say anything at all and simply agree to go to prom with him? 

A hand on your cheek made you snap out of your thoughts, and then you found him staring at you with the happiest smile you’d ever seen on him. The tips of his ears were red as he leaned in closer, nose almost touching yours. 

"Then, I guess it’s okay for me to do this, right?” 

His eyes slipped close, and then he sealed the distance between your lips.

The sound of cheers exploded all around you, but they seemed muffled compared to the sound of your beating heart. Your eyes slipped close too, leaning into his kiss. It was soft, gentle... you felt his hand move to the nape of your neck so he could deepen the kiss, and his other hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You didn’t mind that he was sticky and soaked with sweat, all your mind could focus on was his lips moving in sync with yours and how it was turning your insides to mush and making your knees weak.

As you rested your hands on his chest for support, you felt it. Even through his uniform, it was there: his racing pulse beneath your fingers, against your palm. 

The kiss didn’t last long, seeing as he couldn’t contain his smile. Your own lips spread into a smile too, and he pulled away, pumping his fist into the air.

“SHE SAID YES! WE’RE GOING TO PROM!” 

He yelled it like it was the greatest news ever, and even though you wanted to punch him in the head for being so embarrassing, you couldn’t help but laugh along with him as he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. It was like you were the true prize he had won from the game.

And when he looked at you with that dazzling, heart-stopping smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to his cheek, for all to see.

You had won, and now he was yours too. 

[sanghyukstattoos]

Riding in the wind

Characters: Yoo Taeyang x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut (including breeding kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex)

Words: 1933

Summary: Sex with Taeyang often included his breeding kink and this time, it was no different except with the two of you mixing fantasy and reality. 

A/N: Heyyyy, yess I do write for all members~~~ Oh my, I was very surprised to read this request and I'm not really great with smut writing but you said lowkey and I decided to take advantage of that (in a nice way???) Initially, I thought about writing Tae with a lowkey breeding kink but I don’t think it’s that lowkey anymore😅😅 So, here is to you hopefully liking it and thank you for liking the Sanghyuk fics very much~~~ Also, thank you for the request because I can finally add a Tae fic to the masterlist!

The first gif vs. the second (+_+) 

"Kids?" Taeyang whispered with a small smile across his face. Right now the sun had set and dark, deep tones of purple decorated the evening. The two of you were sitting on the sofa, facing each other with your knees touching. When he asked you that half question, you stilled and with good reason. You weren't sure if you were ready but drifting to thoughts about the future with him slightly eased the previous tension you felt. Tilting his head sideways in question, you bought yourself back to reality and slowly, very slowly agreed. "Yea, we could have kids, I guess." you spoke.

"It's okay if you are unsure because we have all the time-" and his words just powered through you. It wasn't a decision that you made on the whim because this topic had been floating around the house for almost a week now. Neither of you were opposed to having children so every time you touched the idea, Taeyang would be full of smiles. This was the first time however, you approached the subject and gave verbal confirmation.

You jumped a little saying, "I want to have kids, I want to have kids with you, sure", lips curling up into a smile as you spoke. A smile gradually adorned his face hearing you words and in excitement he pulled you into his arms. You squealed, wrapping your arms around him saying, "Yea, let's have a kid" realising that you said kids earlier instead of kid. "You said kids earlier, why are you going back?" he jokingly asked you, with disbelief on his face. You laughed, hiding your face in his neck, the redness creeping up on your face.

Grabbing his shoulders, you lightly pushed him down on the sofa, a little "oh" escaping his lips. His eyebrows cocked as a smile graced your lips. Giggling, you lowered your lips as his hands found your waist, guiding you to him. With a little thud, you plopped onto him, resting on your elbows careful not to crush him. His arms wrapped around you and shifted you onto his side, turning around to face you.

He was smiling more than you, feeling a little bit shy in the moment. Just as he went to kiss you, the phone rang and the two of you jumped back a little, feeling surprised. Planting a kiss to your forehead, he whispered a "sorry" with apologetic eyes and got off the sofa to answer the phone. You narrowed your eyes at the intrusion but the irritation left you as you heard the doorbell. Sitting up, you planted a soft and quick kiss onto his cheek. Passing by Taeyang on your way to the dinner table, you sneaked a glance only to find out that he was still on the phone.

Setting up the food, you heard Taeyang walk into the room and wrap his arms around you. Smiling, you turned around as your arms found his waist when he said, "I'm excited". Clearing the table, the food found itself on the other side. You squealed as he picked you, his lips finding yours, setting you on the table. Hungrily, you passionately made out on the table; your hands found his abs while he attacked your neck. Exploring the plain of your neck, his little love bites left red marks and you sighed in pleasure. Meeting your lips, he briefly leant away and pulled your t-shirt over your head.

The two of you stared at one another, breathing heavily as he removed his own t-shirt and unclasped your bra. It fell and your breasts bounced lightly at the lack of support. Discarding your bra to the side, he made quick work of removing the rest of his clothes while you did the same. Pushing you by the shoulders, you were now on the table, he pulled your legs so that your clothed centre met his cock.

Your fingers twirled your buds as he peppered kisses along the length of your stomach, fingers grasping the corners of your panties. Slowly, the adorned fabric made its way down your legs to your ankles and one hand replacing yours, his fingers twisted the nub. Feeling the heat pool at your centre, you jerked your hips, raising your back off the table. One hand slowly massaging your nipple, he pressed his lips to your sex eliciting a moan from you. Licking a stripe off your bundle of nerves, his finger went from rubbing comforting circles on your inner thigh to entering you. You moaned at the intrusion, the feeling of slight penetration building the pool of juices in the pit of your lower stomach.

Adding another finger, he continued eating you out, occasionally flattening his tongue against your centre as he shifted his hand to keep your legs open. Your fingers found their way to your breasts as you clenched around his fingers. Knowing that you were close, he pulled away, his face glistening with your juices while you groaned at the lack of attention to your clit. Grinning at your state, his cock was hard against his stomach, already leaking precum.

You wanted to suck him off, 'pop' as you left his cock to gaze at his fucked-out state. The sight of his face now- blush on his cheeks, deep pink pouty lips and your juices smeared across his face was enough for you to clench around air. Your hands met his as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your nose scrunched tasting your cum. Giggling at your adorable response, you could feel his member touch your entrance. Prodding, it was barely entering, increasing your frustration at the sensation of teasing.

Wiggling your hips, you lowered yourself onto him but not before he grabbed your hips, completely stilling them. You met his questioning eyes before he pushed you further up the table, entering you whole. Mouth open, the pleasure silently engulfed you, feeling sensitive from the lack of orgasm earlier. Waiting for you to adjust to his size, you took in a deep breath, looking at him and nodding for him to continue. "You okay?" he asked and you replied, "yes" in confirmation, eagerly awaiting for him to move.

Slowly he moved, increasing to set a pace at which his hips met yours, letting out heavy moans as he relished in his pleasure. He sounded pretty and every time he masturbated himself thinking about you, he would let out those pretty moans, jerking himself faster at the thought of knotting inside of you. Now that he was here and that he had your verbal agreement, he could do what he had been wanting to do since day one- fill you with his seed. Biting his lips just thinking about it, he snapped his hips against you, drawing out louder moans from the both of you.

A little surprised at his action you asked, "You okay?" grabbing his hand from your knee as he looked into your eyes replying, "Yea- just thinking of filling you full of my cum and my kids.". His words drew a pink tint to your cheeks and never having stopped his rhythm, he connected your hands, doing the same with your lips. Leaving one hand, his muscles tightened as he supported his weight above you, thrusting just a little faster every time. Your walls surrounded his cock, gritting his teeth every time he felt you clench around him and moan, the sounds filling the entire room.

Breasts bouncing, he placed a kiss to each, hands holding your shoulder from behind as he pushed you into him. Full till the hilt, he was now directly above you and left marks alongside your neck as you opened up, wanting him to leave more. Groaning, he was breathless as he felt your nipples against his chest, his mind wandering to images of your breasts, swollen with milk as you neared the end of your pregnancy with your stomach round and full as well. Speaking into your ear, he stated, "I'm going to come in you baby, is that okay? Is it okay if I fuck my seed into you?". Knowing that it was rhetorical, you replied anyway, "Ahh- yea, please".

Gulping, images of you with your legs spread as his thick, white cum painted your walls and dripped down the legs of the table brought him closer to his release. Brows knitting, he came, splashes of his cum filling up your womb and at the warm feeling, the knot in your stomach unravelled, spoiling yourself over his cock. Slowing down his thrusts, you winced as he pulled out of you, falling onto the palms of his hands, right above you. Pulling you up from under your arms, he sat you up as he pecked your lips, "God, I love you so much" to which you heartily replied, "I love you too". Leaning your head on his chest, your eyes began to droop and he chuckled as he noticed this, loving how adorable you seemed in your post- sex state. 

No idea about the amount of energy he had because he lifted you by the arms, the surprise caused you to wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Walking to the bedroom, he gently laid you down on the bed, plopping beside you with a huff. The thoughts of shower were on your mind, especially with the cum trickling down your legs but you were so tired you could have cared less. Darkness engulfed your vision as you went to sleep strewn over the covers. Getting up, Taeyang bought a wet towel and gently dabbed at your inner thighs, careful not to wake you up. After he was done, he slipped a shirt over your head and a pair of boxers for him, settling into the covers which he previously pulled from under you. Lights out, the two of you snuggled into one another through the night. 

Sun shining through the curtains, you felt a sharp, striking pain in your stomach waking you up from your deep slumber. You shuffled into Taeyang’s side, hiding your face in the crook in his neck waiting for the pain to stop. You couldn’t tell if the pain was from the lack of food or your deliberate unprotected sex with Taeyang. You wouldn’t have minded the latter but for now, you hoped for the former because you wanted to have breakfast with him. Stomach grumbling, his eyes fluttered open a couple of moments later, pulling you closer to him and wrapping a leg around your waist. ‘’My stomach hurts’’ you shyly spoke continuing due to the concern in his eyes, ‘’but I don’t know if it’s because we didn’t have food or just yesterday’’ trailing off at your last word. Understanding flooded his features as a small but unbashful smile lit his face.

‘‘I’m excited for whatever is about to happen’‘ he replied with words within the context of yesterday’s sex. ‘‘Same, but I have this feeling that you are more excited than I am’‘ you replied, laughing at the thought of him gleefully jumping around the house if you did become pregnant. ‘‘We need to have shower anyways’‘ he said, ears perking up at the mention of excitement. Not taking long to catch on, you caught his hand, pulling him up with you and towards the direction of your shower. Inside, you stripped together, wandering hands, causing giggles and laughs to flutter the bathroom which quickly quietened but in time, turned to moans and heavy breaths as the two of you stared at one another, out of breath.  

[thedumbguywithaheart43]

BoomLords weird adventure

Chapter 5 reluctant companions

Rairty spoke up."excuse me darling what is the crazy stallion saying?"Twilight was spaced out for a moment trying to process what she had just done. Apon realizing Rairty was speaking she snapped back to reality."what oh Rairty. Sorry uh he was talking about me helping him to uh shit"She blinked, wincing as she couldn't get the thought of what she had just done out of her head. She didn't intend to create Rose fire in fact in that moment she had wanted to kill him to render the flesh from his bone, it was as if another creature had entered her head for a moment and fueled her rage."I think I have to go with him."before she could explain why."WHAT ARE YOU TAKING ABOUT HE JUST MESSED WITH YOU AND THE PRINCESSES HEADS!"rainbow yelled."I merely showed them what they wanted to know however to be honest I didn't expect this to happen. I had been looking for the rose fire in every world every terrifying, every cruel, and every unforgiving place in the Omniverse. But it turns out all I had to do was accidentally induced fear and rage into a horse."the pony stared at him for a moment."He's telling the truth and now that we know what's at stake we have no choice but to help."Celestia stated her tone was dark however as if she was doing something she wasn't so sure she wanted to."h-how long until it happens?"Boom and Celestia stared at each other for a moment. It was clear Boom really didn't want to answer this."could be days could be another year time works differently for me but if I had to give a rough estimate maybe a year or two or less."Celestia took a gulp of air as she looked to her fellow ponies. She looked as if she was holding back tears."my little ponies I ask no I beg you all to go with him this is no longer a matter in my control and I cannot force you to partake in this. What he is asking is dangerous beyond anything any of you have ever faced and while he may only require Twilight I would never send my student alone into what I was shown."this time no one spoke not even dash because when princess Celestia tells you shits about to go down it's going to go fuckin down. And in unison without hesitation without regret without fear all the ponies and Spike responded"were in!"boom looked at the group of ponies a look of discontent on his face."fuckin great I'm babysitting a whole party."most of the ponies ignored what he said with the exception of rainbow dash and Applejack."hey no one asked you"dash got in his face while AJ got close next to her."yeah that's right and don't think we're going to take our eyes off you for a minute partner. Not after what you just pulled.

2 spike walked over to the stallion cautiously"so how are we leaving? I mean you said we had to leave."well you see that's why I'm going to need my notepad and Pen also my satchel if you don't mind."a look of confusion re-entered the faces of everyone."oooo are you gonna draw us amagical portal to another dimension?"pinky blurted out as a few of the others started to chuckle."actually that's a pretty accurate assessment of what I'm about to do, in fact spot on."Twilights jaw nearly dropped as BoomLord began scribbling on the paper. Boomlord had drawn a nearly perfect circle on a piece of the notepads paper and in the center of it wrote the words, °home space°as he took the pen off the paper another electric golden ring started to form, the area within beginning to blacken about 10 ft away."okay everybody we're about to leave but don't worry I can send us back to this exact point in time give or take a few minutes so while we may be gone for who knows how long to the princesses it will only be a couple minutes."Boom that hope this comment would calm them however they're confusion only broaden. 'God how are they going to react when they all change'

3 boom was the first to enter the portal then Twilight followed by Pinky, rainbow,Applejack, rarity Fluttershy, and lastly young Spike. Boomlord looked down at himself. He was human again his blue jeans and thick yellow hoodie once again with him. Pulling back the sleeve he saw that the green fur that once covered his body was gone replaced with his light taned skin. Okay I hope everybody's ready for some exposition and descriptions. Boomlord looked back at the ponies first up was Twilight she had grown into a human form unsurprisingly. Her mane or I guess her hair had stayed the same she had fairly pale white skin and a few smalls freckles adorning her face she was also fairly short compared to Boom. Boom knew his height was about 5'7 give or take so Twilight had to be about 5'4 or 5'3 she wore a purple t-shirt and a darker purple skirt with pants to go with it all put together with very nice sneakers which all the girls have with the exception of rarity and Applejack. Pinky on the overhand was definitely much taller than Twilight in fact she was about the same height as boom. She wore a striped blue and pink shirt with a polka dot skirt and light pink leggings she had average white skin no major tan or anything although she did have pink nail polish on. Dash was next she still had her rainbow hair but she was on the shorter end with Twilight only being a inch or so taller along with fairly tanned skin as if she's been spending her days at the beach. She wore a plain blue sleeveless top and jean shorts her wings were also noticeably missing the same with Fluttershy. Speaking of Fluttershy her outfit was rather green she wore a green t-shirt with a yellow peace symbol on it and long jeans. Additionally in her hair she had is a flower crown witch she probably took off, besides that her skin was also fairly tanned. Applejack definitely took the show with her outfit she was wearing thick brown leather gloves and a brown leather vest with tassels on it. Underneath the vest was a plain white shirt covered in bits of brown dirt, and long stylish cowboy print jeans and good old-fashioned cowgirl boots. Applejack skin was also the most tanned being she was definitely the one who spent the most time outdoors. Also she and rainbow dash were the only ones with noticeable er muscle growth as even through their outfits they still kept their physical physique. Applejack and Fluttershy we're definitely the tallest of the group with Fluttershy being 5'8 and Applejack being at least 6'2.Lastly of the girls we have rarity wearing a clean white shirt with stylish blue diamond print in it, and a rather long dress to accompany it. Along her neck was a rather lovely diamond necklace and alot Lower down beautiful high heels. She also had the darkness pigment of her skin when compared to everyone else. Also sorry if that's not politically correct I'm not entirely sure what the correct term is now. Do feel free to let me know. As soon as the girls walk through the portal though most of them with the exception of Twilight who seemed almost familiar with the sensation of walking on two legs fell to the ground."oh no whats happing?"Pinky yelled and she started crawling on all fours along with Fluttershy. Dash and Applejack were occupied with balancing themselves on a desk next to them and rarity had somehow crawled her way to a sofa and dramatically pose."oh darling what has happened to us?"boomlord rolled his eyes as he knew he was going to have to teach them how to be human it also occurred to him where the hell was spike.

4 Then he saw it or well him. Unlike his fellow ponies Spike didn't turn into a human and no he did not turn into a dog. This isn't Equestria girls guys turning into a dog is really dumb and I already have one in the story. Spike's body had remained reptilian however he's noticeably taller now at least about Twilights size inner current form his body seemed to get longer and his claws along with it. His face has narrowed Abit becoming far more similar to his dragon freinds with the exception that he had a much longer neck which allowed him to survey his own body. Put it simply he looks more like what a small dragon would look like in our world if they existed."woah I look really cool!"spike yelled in excitement."ponies don't talk where I'm from so the portal has adjusted your body's to something a bit more familiar to me that I have set and in Spike's case I already had something in mind for dragons." Ponies now began to look around their surroundings. They notice they seemed to be in a rather decent sized living room a few desks a television ,yellow rug, a few lamps. The room seemed mostly normal only the walls and floor and ceiling all looked the same. It looks like the inside of a treehouse and where there was a window there was no... Well anything just an empty void."welcome to my home away from home a little place I made outside of the Omniverse and what I like to call free space, basically this entire place is an extension of a thought everything here with the exception of a few items were made from nothing. No magic and no magical effects can be taken here with the exception of the notepad so sorry girls but your wings and horns are temporarily unavailable don't worry when we go to other worlds you should be able to use them."Twilight rapidly blinked as she didn't expect well boom to look rather nice. He still had rather unkempt hair and the rings under the eyes but here the black in his eyes were gone however his irises remained red and gold. He had a warm smile or a warm fake smile and while definitely wasn't the biggest guy around he still had a rather fit physique. And the rarity was the first to comment on that"oh boom darling you look um..... Better than I would have thought."boom roll his eyes."well im far more comfortable like this."the girls who were having trouble standing took a few minutes to themselves to start copying the motions of Twilight who began pacing."uh hey are we safe here."like asked while moving around the girls who were rather surprised to see him as they did not expect such a change."spike looking badass today."rainbow dash teased.spike blushed slight as Boomlord spoke."well girls work going to have to set some ground rules since it looks like you'll be staying with me for a while."

(Oh one more thing because I know you're all wondering or at least some of you are wondering.

Breasts size from largest to smallest :Applejack dd followed by pinkie and Fluttershy then Rairty.twlight has the average size and rainbow dash is flat but that doesn't make her any less of a woman)

(not sure why I felt the need to put that there but I feel like some people just had to know)

[stuckwith-harry]

swear to be overdramatic and true

Snow, is his first thought upon materialising behind the apple trees.

Harry Potter draws his wand and slips into view from his Apparition spot, stepping out into the wintry night. A fluffy white blanket has fallen over everything, the grass and the windowsills and the rooftop: the apple trees are all wearing hats.

Above his head, a square of warm, golden light falls from the window that overlooks the garden into the night. Harry’s heart stirs quietly at the sight.

He leaves no trace in the fresh snow on the ground as he makes his way around the cottage to the front door. Auror boots leave no footprints by design, erasing every step behind themselves immediately: by the time he’s slipped through the front door, no sign outside the cottage’s walls betrays he was ever gone.

Harry exhales.

He is extraordinarily lucky, and he knows it: he’s spent most of this mission waiting for something, anything, to go awry like it usually does, for one of the juniors to make a mistake, for the lot of them to walk into a trap, for him to spend the holidays at St. Mungo’s again. Even now that he’s here, looking around at his quiet home, at the enchanted fairy lights floating around the ceiling: it all seems a little too good to be trusted.

It isn’t even midnight yet. Harry bites back his smile for fear of jinxing it.

He slips out of his Auror gear and leaves it in the downstairs bathroom, memories of the mission quickly fading as he sneaks up the stairs in just his t-shirt and boxers. A stripe of gold glowing under James’ bedroom door disappears at the sound of Harry’s approaching footsteps: his eldest hastily pulls his duvet over his head when he pushes the door open.

“Evenin’”, Harry says softly into the room, and James’ scarlet head reluctantly reappears under the pillow, moonlight illuminating his sheepish face. “Not asleep yet?”

“Dad!”, James whispers, folding back the duvet. “You’re back!”

Harry is well aware that his surprise is – at least in part – feigned, but the sheer elation on his son’s face is real: he notices it with a quiet warmth unfurling in his chest.

“And you’re up past your bedtime, I believe.”

“I wanted to wait for you”, James says quickly.

Harry doesn’t bother reminding him that waiting is pointless: for all they knew, he may not have made it back before Boxing Day.

“Christmas Eve, with a little luck”, he told Ginny, hesitant to even voice it to the children.

He never makes promises for a reason. The let-down is so much more devastating when they get their hopes up.

Harry sighs. “Close your eyes. Father Christmas isn’t going to stop by here until all children are sound asleep.”

James rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I believe in any of that stuff anymore – and Mum took the presents downstairs twenty minutes ago”, he adds, as though that settles the Father-Christmas-matter once and for all.

“Lily still believes it”, Harry reminds him. “Don’t go and ruin it for her, hm?”

“Fine”, James mutters, pulling his duvet back to his chin. “Love you, anyway.”

“Love you, too.”

Harry pulls James’ door shut as quietly as he can and continues down the dark hallway; won’t be able to sleep without this.

Lily is curled up in a mountain of blankets like a kitten, clutching her stuffed Crumple-Horned Snorkack firmly in her little arms. Her night-light is floating by the bed, painting her face in faint red and pink. A string of enchanted fairy lights is wrapped around her bedframe, too, cheerily twinkling in the dark.

Harry lets himself linger, just for a moment: brushes hair out of her slender face and watches her brows furrow slightly in her sleep. Far away in a dream somewhere, he knows. He could parade a real Crumple-Horned Snorkack through her bedroom and she likely wouldn’t wake, but he still tiptoes back to her door and throws one last glance over his shoulder before he leaves. Entirely too peaceful to be true, he wants to think, but stops himself.

Peaceful. Peaceful. Peaceful.

Al’s light is on, too: He’s holding his book to his chest with one arm, the other dangling off his bed in mid-air, mouth wide open as he sleeps. Harry carefully loosens the book from his grip, finds the bookmark on the wooden floor, and places it quietly on Al’s nightstand. He gently tucks both his arms back under the cover and runs his fingers lightly through Al’s unruly black hair, so much like his own.

Al shifts and mutters in his sleep. Harry waits until he has stilled, worried to wake him, and quietly backs out of the room only when Al has resumed snoring. Harry grins as he turns to leave, finally arriving at the last door.

A stripe of gold is falling out into the hallway from here, too: he pushes it open to find Ginny curled up in their king-sized bed, already in her pyjamas, but awake, her nose buried in a copy of Witch Weekly. She looks up at the sound of the door, smile ever more radiant in the half-dark and the glow of her bedside lamp.

“I thought I heard someone climb down the chimney”, she says, beaming at him as he climbs on the mattress next to her, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Hi”, she mutters, raking her fingers through his hair and down his shoulder. A tingle travels down Harry’s spine. “I can’t believe you made it.”

He closes his eyes at her touch, tension falling off him: two cold weeks without her are melting quickly in his memory. “Me neither, honestly.”

Harry spots a tower of presents in the armchair by the window. “Want any help with those?”, he asks, despite being far too content, far too comfortable now, to move.

Ginny hums quietly in response.

“In a bit. I think James was eavesdropping.”

“Oh, he was.”

She chuckles, flicking a page. “I thought it was too quiet. Always a bit fishy when they behave, isn’t it?”

And indeed, a peculiar quiet has got hold of the Potter family home: so strange and unprecedented in its completeness Harry cannot help but strain his ears every once in a while, listening intently for tip-toeing in the hallway, heated whispering: all the tell-tale signs his children have slipped out of their beds.

“I know you can’t sleep now”, she mutters after a few minutes of quiet, Harry’s head still on her shoulder. “Do you just want to hang out?”

She knows him too well, he thinks, some strange, wild gladness swelling in his chest.

It’s a part of coming home: letting go of the hyper-alertness that keeps him alive while he’s out there, of being constantly on edge. Sometimes, when he doesn’t get back until the early hours of the morning, he lies awake next to Ginny and can’t bring himself to shut off. He watches daylight creep over the apple trees through the window, waits for everyone else to wake up and ends up dozing off on the couch in the middle of the afternoon, more passing out from exhaustion than real sleep.

Ginny knows that’s part of the deal.

“Reading sounds good, actually”, he says, lifting his head off her shoulder regretfully to go find his book.

Teddy had, in recent months, taken to devouring adventure novels the size of bricks in a mere matter of days and then spending the weekly family dinners at the Burrow talking rapidly about little else. On one such Saturday evening, Harry had politely asked if Teddy would ever let him borrow one: the smile on Teddy’s face was absolutely brilliant, and Harry has been reading along with him ever since, his godson’s sheer enthusiasm, his joy at having someone to talk to after, impossibly infectious.

They flick through their respective pages in comfortable quiet, Ginny’s fingers drawing absent-minded circles on his thigh as she reads. A spark of warmth prickles at the back of his neck at every lazy scratch on her fingernail.

“I’m having an affair with Neville”, Ginny says as though announcing the weather.

Harry looks up from his novel, blinking at her.

“I thought I was having an affair with Neville”, he says, face plain.

“No, that was last week.”

“I see. Who am I sleeping with again?”

“Hermione. Says so right here on page 12.”

“I better give her a call, then”, he says, returning to his book.

The corners of Ginny’s mouth betray her: Harry grins over at her and she snickers into the magazine, her quiet laughter like waves rolling through his body, her cheek leaning against the top of his head. Warm, liquid bliss fills his chest: her small hand resumes caressing his thigh like she’s not even aware she’s doing it, though he doesn’t doubt she is. He draws in a slow, deep breath, too content to move or even focus much on anything except Ginny, least of all his book.

“You alright?”, Ginny asks after a while, not lifting her eyes off of a five-page article about the drummer of some girl band who’d been photographed snogging the bassist.

“Hm?”

“You haven’t turned your page in, like, ten minutes.”

“’M fine”, Harry mutters, forever startled that it’s truthful, and it is. “Wasn’t she dating some Newcomer Harpy?”, he adds, nodding towards the article.

“Hm-hm”, Ginny says. “Nothing interesting about a quiet, amicable breakup, though. That’s why ours are always really dramatic.”

Harry snorts. “Like I’d break up with you in public.”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m the dumpee in this scenario.”

Harry looks up in mock concern, bumping his foot into her leg. “You’re breaking up with me?”

Ginny hums as though deep in thought. “I guess I could loudly ask you for a divorce next time we want to get out of some horrible Ministry party. Might be fun.”

“Wish you’d had that idea last year”, Harry mutters darkly, remembering the lengthy Christmas feast they hadn’t been able to wriggle out of. He’d been shaking lametta out of his hair for hours after. “Alright, I’m down, but I’m taking the kids.”

Ginny pats his leg, unfazed. “Yeah, you wish.”

Harry smiles, slouching into her side – mission forgotten, peaceful, home. Ginny turns to look at him as his eyes flutter shut, exhaustion finally taking over.

All the way from the kitchen, they hear the enchanted garden gnome that lives inside their baby blue cuckoo’s clock – Luna’s moving-in present – announce “twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock, twelve o’clock!”.

Ginny presses a kiss to his temple. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas”, Harry mutters. “Love you.”

“You, too.” He feels the pads of Ginny’s fingers draw slow circles on his scalp, her palm brush over his jet-black hair. “Glad you’re back.”

He merely hums in response, too content to speak, not wanting the moment to end, this strange, deep peace that fills him.

They get to stay like that for a small eternity: Harry’s head on her shoulder, Ginny’s arm around him, warm limbs entangled.

Just as Harry is ready to doze off, Ginny gasps beside him.

“Listen”, she whispers, as Harry reluctantly opens his eyes.

And there it is: from outside their bedroom door comes the quiet tap-tap-tap of small feet on the hardwood floor, sneaking towards the stairs.

“I think we’ve got some Christmas elves on the loose”, Ginny whispers.

Harry grins at her, and she grins back, quietly conspiring.

“Wanna go catch them?”

They climb out of bed as quickly and quietly as they can, pressing their ears to the bedroom door. Ginny shakes her head and reaches for the doorknob.

“They’re lucky we love them so much.”

[to-star-lake]

ether [ pt. 2 ]

pairing | pjm/jjk x reader genre | angst, love triangle word count | 5.4k rating | M

You stared at the multiple missed calls from Jungkook on your screen, your thumb hovering over the notification, wondering if you should call him back. 

“Ugh,” you mumbled, feeling a headache come on, your head starting to pound and you tossed your phone aside. You pushed yourself up, struggling to pull your dress from your body before flipping the duvet over and crawling into bed, snuggling your face into your pillow. 

You took a deep breath in, ready to drift to sleep when you heard a faint buzzing from somewhere under the covers. You popped one eye open, annoyed, and felt around in the sheets until your hand landed on your phone. You grabbed ahold of it, and held it up to your face. 

Incoming call: Jungkook

Shit.

You sat up, holding your phone in your lap, staring at the lit up screen in your hands, wondering what to do. 

Fuck, just pick up the phone. 

You slid the bar across the screen and held your phone up to your ear, “Hello?” 

Nothing. 

“....JK?” you asked quietly. 

To this you heard a sigh, his breath huffing into the speaker. 

You felt your brows knit together. “Ok, if you’re not gonna say anything, I’m gonna hang up now-”

“Where are you,” he asked, though his tone made it sound more like a demand. 

“Home,” you scoffed at his question. 

“Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was-” You fell backward onto your pillows, a blurry and rose-tinted image of Jimin pushing you against the wall, his hand between your legs flashed through your mind and you shook your head, “I was busy.” 

You heard nothing on the other end except for his breathing. A few moments passed before he said, “Who was that guy you left with?”

“Just someone I met at the bar,” you answered curtly. 

“You left with a guy you just met?”

The way he asked that question made a knot form in your stomach. “Why do you even care, JK?”

A few more moments of silence. 

“Are you with him now?”

“No, obviously not, I’m at home,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Where’d you go with him?”

“What’s with the interrogation, JK?” you heard yourself raising your voice. “You don’t hear me asking what you and Yuri were doing all night.” 

You heard a sharp exhale on the other end. “You shouldn’t just go places with some random guy you just met, he’s bad news-” 

“How can you say that, you have no idea who he is!” 

“Neither do you, that’s my point! You said yourself you just met him!” he was beginning to raise his voice too. 

“Yeah, so what, I just met him, and I happened to have had a great time with him. He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s incredibly attractive, and I’m going on a date with him tomorrow. So leave out of it, JK.” you huffed, hanging up the phone, angrily tossing it aside. 

You stared up at the ceiling, taking a few deep breaths trying to calm yourself down. Why the hell does he care? Besides, it’s not like you even owe him any explanation. 

You slid down further into bed, pulling the covers over you when you heard your phone buzzing again beside you. 

Glancing over, you saw Jungkook’s name come up on the screen and you picked up your phone, getting out of bed, and walked it out to your kitchen counter and set it down and watched as it continued to vibrate on the marble surface. 

You left it there, turning and heading back into your bedroom, slamming the door shut. You pulled the covers over your shoulder and thought for a moment back to when you saw Yuri clinging onto Jungkook’s arm at the bar earlier. You wondered if she asked him to take her home. You wondered if she invited him up to his apartment. You wondered if he said yes. 

-

In the morning, you woke to a horrible high-pitched buzzing coming from your front door. 

“Ugh,” you moaned, sitting up and rubbing your eyes, a dull pounding in your head from a lingering hangover making you dizzy. You blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the bright morning sunlight, and looked over at the clock on your nightstand. 

It read 10:00AM. 

Oh, shit. 

You flew out of the covers, bursting through your bedroom door and running towards the buzzing intercom in your living room, almost sliding and falling on the rug. 

“Yes?” you hit the speaker quickly. 

“Miss Y/N?” it was Johnny, the security guard downstairs. “Um, there’s a guy here, says he’s here to see you?” 

You stood by the intercom for a moment, stunned. 

Did he really come back, at 10AM, like he said he would? It took you a few moments to hit the intercom again. 

“What’s he look like?” 

“Uh, about 5’8, gray hair though he’s not, like, old, umm” he lowered his voice, “He showed up in a McLaren.” 

You heard a soft laugh escape your lips at the description. 

“Johnny, please tell him I’m sorry to be late, I’ll be downstairs in 15, please be nice!” and with that you ran back through your bedroom, pulling your underwear down from your hips, almost tripping over them as they fell to your ankles. You stumbled into your bathroom, turning the water on and jumping in immediately, flinching as the cold water hit your skin. 

You doused your body in soap, rinsing shampoo through your hair as quickly as possible, and flew out of the shower, tousling your hair with a towel. You slid on a bralette and a matching pair of underwear, pausing for a moment in your closet and realizing you had no idea what he has planned for today and therefore did not know what would be appropriate dress. 

You reached for a pretty shimmery blouse and then held yourself back, thinking you didn’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. But he must be dressed nicely, like he was last night, you thought to yourself. 

“Ahh, fuck it,” you muttered, pulling down a plain white t-shirt and a pair of Levi’s from the shelf and threw it on. Grabbing a cardigan and your purse from your desk, you skipped back out through the kitchen, and kicking on your shoes, flew out your front door, tapping your foot nervously as you waited for the elevator. 

You stepped out on the ground floor and turned to walk through the courtyard, and at the security desk you saw Jimin, one side of his silver hair slicked back, the other hanging loosely over his eyes, his long legs in a pair of black jeans, and a black and white striped t-shirt under an expertly distressed plaid shirt. 

He was leaning onto his elbows on the security desk, laughing at Johnny, who was waving his arms around, describing something. You took a deep breath, puffing out your cheeks, finding yourself having to shake some messy thoughts away looking at the lines of muscles on his legs as he shifted his weight. 

“Yo, Y/N!” Johnny called out, and you watched as Jimin turned to face you, and you suddenly became hyper aware of how your legs moved under you, like you had to consciously remember how to walk. 

“I was just talking with your man here about his cars,” Johnny boasted as you walked up. “I was telling him, the Wraith and the SV Roadster are some fine vehicles, but the engine in that P1,” he held his hand up to his lips in a chef’s kiss. “Mmm, when it comes to engines you can’t beat McLaren.” 

You turned to see Jimin smiling, his body leaned lazily against the table. “And I was just telling Johnny he should stop by the house on the island sometime. I’ve got the MP4/6 from the Formula 1 series in Monaco from a few years ago,” he said, grinning and totally serious. 

“Ha, cool cool, let’s see so that was a Rolls, a Lam, and an original F1 race car?” You tugged at your shirt. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

He laughed, reaching his hand out to your waist, standing upright and leaned in to give you a kiss, but you flinched at the sudden contact. 

“Woah, ok, I’m gonna just head back to my office and leave you guys to do, uh, whatever you were gonna do,” Johnny threw his hands up, backing away slowly. “It was nice meeting you man, don’t be a stranger, bring over one of the other toys next time. I’m totally gonna take you up on the offer to see the F1 car too!” he called out to Jimin before turning and walking into the back office. 

You turned and looked up at him, slightly embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I uh, I can’t believe you actually came.” 

“What, you didn’t think I’d show up?” he reached both arms around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss, and you felt your legs press together the moment his lips touched yours. “I’m a man that keeps his promises,” he pulled away, grinning. “Did you sleep well?”  

“Uh..” you felt your cheeks grow hot at his implication. “It was fine,” you answered sheepishly. “Um, so where are we going?” 

He led you out to his car and holding the door open for you, beaming, saying “This is going to be the cheesiest date of your life.” 

-

The day began at the aquarium, where he led you from exhibit to exhibit, mimicking the tiny fluorescent ocean fish, outrightly gawking at the sharks swimming above a glass tunnel, squeezing your arm and squealing about how cute the penguins were. 

He’d suck his cheeks in, making a fish face, asking ‘Is that how they breathe? Do their lips have to be like that?” 

You’d laugh and he’d pout, “Stop laughing at me!” 

“I’m not laughing at you Jimin, I’m laughing with you!” 

“You are! You’re laughing at me, and I don’t like it,” he’d cross his arms in front of his chest, walking a few steps in front of you. 

“Fish breathe through their gills, Jimin, they don’t breathe through their mouths,” you giggled, chasing after him. 

“Yeah, obviously I knew that,” he’d huff, still feigning like he was upset, but reached down and took your hand in his. 

He had you clutching your stomach in laughter as he gushed about the dolphin show, insisting that the two of you stop in every gift shop along the way, buying stuffed clownfish, stuffed blue tangs, stuffed otters, anything he found so adorable he couldn’t help but get it. And he shoved them all into your arms, “They’re for you!” he’d insist, smiling brightly. 

“I don’t need this many stuffed animals, Jimin, I’m not 5,” you laughed, soon unable to see over the stack of stuffed toys in your arms as you waited for your coffees at the cafe by one of the gift shops in the lobby. 

“Yes you do, I want you to have something to remember this day by,” Jimin pouted, reaching his arms around your waist in a back hug. 

“So just one souvenir wouldn’t have been enough? What’s wrong with a nice refrigerator magnet?” you laughed, feeling the muscles on your stomach tense when he flattened his hands against you, leaning his head down over your shoulder, his cologne wafting down. 

“Refrigerator magnets are lame,” he rolled his eyes, walking over to the counter to pick up your coffees and leading you out to the car to drop off all the stuffed toys. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon walking hand in hand along the river, and he asked you endless questions about yourself - about your favorite everything; books, movies, music, places you’ve been, about your work, about your family. And you asked in turn, discovering that in addition to being incredibly cheeky, kind, and an absolute jokester, he was also extremely smart and well-read. 

The two of you bonded over a mutual love of Hayao Miyazaki’s early works, Hunter S. Thompson and Kerouac, that both of you loved to listen to gloomy acoustic songs because somehow they cheered you up.  

He paused for a moment, leaning forward onto his elbows on the metal barrier by the river and you stopped next to him, resting your hands on the cold metal, taking a deep breath in. He reached his arms around your shoulders, moving to stand behind you, leaning his face down against yours. 

“Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his lips tickling your cheek. 

“Yes?” you smiled, and he squeezed his arms tighter around you. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” he leaned his face down to the base of your neck, breathing onto your bare skin. You leaned into the cold metal of the barrier, feeling him press his body closer to you. 

“I did too,” you sighed, breathing in his cologne and closing your eyes as he laced his fingers with yours, turning you around to face him. 

You looked up to see his smiling eyes, glowing in the late afternoon light. 

“So did you think more on what we talked about last night?” he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You felt goosebumps rise on your arm at his words. 

“I uh, I haven’t..” you looked up at him nervously. 

He smiled, “That’s okay, because after I left, I did a lot of thinking about it,” he leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“Really?” you asked shakily, his hands sliding down your waist to your hips. 

“Mhmm,” his lips traveled across your cheek. “I thought about it on my drive home,” he kissed at your jaw, “In the shower,” he leaned over you, lowering his lips to yours. “In bed, all by myself,” you felt a dull throbbing sensation as he pushed his mouth open with his. 

“Um, mm, what- what did you think about?” you murmured into his lips as his tongue rolled past your teeth, his taste making you weak at the knees, remembering last night. 

“You want me to tell you?”

“Could you show me?” 

-

He drove quickly through the city streets, pulling the car to a stop in front of your apartment complex. The two of you made your way past the security desk, across the courtyard, rolling against the wall, him pushing you into the bricks, his lips pressed against yours greedily, and you barely registered Johnny waving his hands out as the two of you stumbled past his desk, trying to tell you something. 

Jimin pushed you back into the elevator and you reached your hand out, pressing the button to your floor clumsily, his body pressed hard against yours in the corner, his lips latched onto your neck, pulling your leg up around his waist. 

“You’ll have to take it from here, I have no idea where I’m going,” he slid his fingers through the loop on your jeans, pulling you from the elevator when the doors opened to your floor, making you fall against his chest, giggling. 

When you turned, you saw a dark figure stand up a couple of doors down, in front of your apartment at the end of the hall, stopping you dead in your tracks. 

“JK-”

He stood upright, sliding his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants, his backpack by his feet, standing in front of your door, his jaw protruding from clenching his teeth down together upon seeing you and Jimin exit the elevator. 

“Y/N, who’s this?” Jimin asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him. 

You saw Jungkook take a step toward you guys and you immediately tugged at Jimin’s arms, turning him around to face you. 

“He’s um, he’s a friend. Jimin, I- can we take a rain check?”

He looked at you for a few moments. “What’s going on Y/N?”

“It’s, it’s nothing, he’s just a friend, he’s been having a hard time recently,” you lied, trying to reassure him. “I just need to talk to him.”

“You’ll be alright?” 

You nodded.

He sighed, leaning past you, reaching to hit the button to call the elevator. “Call me later,” he said, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze before stepping into the opened elevator. You saw him smiling at you softly as the doors closed. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a biting tone as you spun around and stomped down the hall to your apartment door, blowing right past Jungkook. 

“You wouldn’t answer my calls.” You saw him pick up his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and following you to your door. 

You unlocked it, holding the door only a little ajar and turning to face him. 

“I left my phone at home, and I was busy.” you emphasized, turning to face him, jumping a little in surprise finding him stepping close to you, his body towering over yours. 

He pushed past you into your apartment, dropping his backpack beside the coffee table. 

“JK, what are you doing,” you walked in, slamming the door behind you, crossing your arms in front of your chest as he pulled the long sleeves of his black t-shirt up and began clearing the mugs and plates from your counters. 

“Your kitchen’s a mess,” he answered through clenched teeth. 

“Yeah, well I got home late from work last night and ate quickly so I could meet Tae at the bar,” you tossed your purse onto the sofa, staring at Jungkook in frustration as he angrily tossed everything into the sink, the glasses clanging against each other. “JK, what the hell-”

“Are you fucking him?” he swung around. 

“What?” you held your arms in closer across your chest, defensive. “What are you talking about-”

“That guy you were just with, are you fucking him?” he repeated. 

You scoffed, walking past the kitchen island toward the bathroom, “No, I’m not fucking him.”

“Hey,” he caught your arm and you swung around. 

“What, JK , what?” you twisted your arm loose. 

Looking up at him, you were slightly taken aback by the way his eyes suddenly softened. “I came by to apologize, I just-” he slid his hands back into his pockets, looking down at his feet. “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were ok.” 

You crossed your arms back over your chest. “Well I’m perfectly fine, satisfied?” 

“Y/N,” he reached a hand out to your elbow.

“No, JK,” you rolled your shoulder back, dodging him. “I don’t-” you looked around you, exasperated and trying to find the words. “His name is Jimin, ok? And I like him. I like him a lot. We just spent the day together, and he’s so sweet and- so I need you to stop doing this, ok? I need you to stop coming around, I need you to stop showing up at my house randomly and calling me at all hours of the night. I need you to leave me alone, ok?”

“Y/N..” he took a step toward you and you stepped back. 

“JK, stop. Alright? Just stop. I don’t know what you’re doing, you just-” you ran your hands through your hair, your frustration boiling over. “You don’t like me, you’re not my boyfriend, so why do you keep coming around? You come around and, fuck,” you felt a rush of adrenaline coming on. “You make me so angry, JK. You come around, you make me food, you watch movies with me in bed, you sleep here, and then, and then you just leave! You leave, and I don’t hear from you for days, I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, except for the next time you decide to randomly show up at my door, and I can’t do this anymore, ok, I’m done with thi-”

You were cut off by JK’s hands grabbing onto your arms and pushing you back against the door to your bedroom, and his lips locking onto yours. 

You looked up at him in shock, eyes wide as he cupped your face in his hands, and you were brought back to that night during junior year in college when he took you home. He moved his lips against yours and you wondered why it felt different. He slid his arms around you, his muscles squeezing you in and you wondered when he’d gotten this strong. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, pulling away and leaning his forehead down against yours. “I’m not good at any of this, I don’t know what to do.” He took a deep breath in, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “Y/N, you’ve gotta know how I feel about you, you must.” 

“Then why do you keep leaving?” you asked quietly. 

“Because I don’t know how to be around you,” he whispered. “Remember when we first met at Taehyung’s house our first year of school? You were coming over to help him study for an Econ exam and we realized we had the same professor?” 

You nodded, remembering walking into Tae’s house that day thinking it was a day like any other. It was a gloomy Saturday, and you were wearing just a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, your hair in a messy bun, an armful of books, chugging a large coffee as you walked up the steps to Taehyung’s apartment.

You remember knocking, and when the door opened, a guy you didn’t recognize opened the door. You remember seeing him for the first time, in a black t-shirt and his dark brown hair hanging over a pair of sleepy but glittering eyes. 

“Oh, um, hi, is Taehyung home?” you asked meekly, questioning for a second if you knocked on the right door since you remembered Taehyung didn’t have roommates. And from behind his shoulder you saw Taehyung emerge in his pajamas. 

“Yoo,” he gestured to you and you stepped inside. “Y/N, this is Jungkook, Jungkook, this is Y/N. JK’s in my fantasy league, he’s got Georges for Econ, too, but he’s in the Tuesday/Thursday class.” 

“Hey,” you said, handing Taehyung his latte, which is really a cup of milk and sugar with a tablespoon of espresso, chuckling softly to yourself that fantasy football is really a way boys make friends. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here otherwise I would’ve brought you something too.” 

He shrugged, “It’s all good.” 

You dropped your books down on the table in the living room where his and Taehyung’s books weren’t even open yet, but the TV was on and you saw a paused game of Fifa. 

“Really, guys?” you rolled your eyes at this, unzipping a bag of flashcards and opening your laptop on the table. 

Jungkook walked over and turned off the TV, much to Taehyung’s protest and took a seat beside you, opening his textbook as well and you saw the pages were all highlighted, with lots of notes scribbled in the margins. 

Meanwhile, Taehyung turned the TV back on, sliding a headset over his ears and scooting a chair right in front of the console and started a solo game. The spine on his textbook looked brand new, most likely because he’d never even cracked open his textbook. 

“So, did you understand last week’s lecture on game theory?” Jungkook asked shyly. 

“Oh yeah, I learned most of that in high school already, the predictive models are super easy-” you paused, looking up and seeing Jungkook staring back at you, wide-eyed and you realized he was asking because he didn’t understand any of it. “Heh, sorry, um, do you understand the basics and why it’s relevant to strategic decision making?”

He shook his head, dismayed. 

You laughed softly, seeing him bite onto his lip in frustration. “It’s ok, we’ll work through it,” you smiled. 

You spent the rest of that day explaining game theory to Jungkook, drawing out diagrams and coming up with metaphors to help him remember various formulas. You offered him a set of flashcards you still kept from your high school business class and he thanked you endlessly. The three of you soon lapsed into easy conversation and laughter once Taehyung was fed up with the teenagers he was gaming with online and ordered pizza and you guys just hung out through the evening. 

-

You felt yourself smiling, recalling the memory. “Yeah, you didn’t understand game theory,” you laughed. 

“When I opened the door and saw you that day, it knocked the air from my lungs,” he said, caressing your cheek with his thumb. He sighed and looked down at you with sad eyes. “I know I’ve been an asshole, it’s just- when we started spending more time together, I really started falling for you. But I held myself back because you were still dating that guy, but then when the two of you broke up-”

You remembered the exact night he was referring to. 

“You’re the first girl I’ve ever loved, Y/N,” he leaned down close. “I don’t know what to do because,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Because I want you to be the last.” 

-

When Jungkook left, you flopped yourself down onto your couch, cheeks flushed, in a euphoric haze from what just happened. His words kept playing on repeat in your head like a lullaby - You’re the first girl I’ve ever loved, Y/N. And I want you to be the last.

“I just want to take things slow, I want to make sure I get this right,” you remembered he said, leaning down to kiss you again. 

“Okay,” You reached your arms up around his neck, holding him, giddy like an excited child at his confessions. 

You ran a hand through your hair and flopped about on your couch, picking up a throw pillow and squeezing it, still giddy, a smile plastered across your face like a fool. 

You heard your phone buzz on the beside table and you turned over, holding the screen up to see an incoming text.

Jimin: Hey, are you alright?

Shit. You remembered you were meant to call him to let him know you were doing alright. 

Yep, I’m good, thanks for checking in! you quickly wrote back. 

You watched three little dots flash up on the left hand side as he typed. 

Jimin: You wanna come meet me at Bemelmans? I have something I want to ask you.

You looked at the screen for a few moments, mood dropping suddenly. “Ugh, crap, what do I do,” you mumbled quietly to yourself, suddenly remembering the pile of stuffed animals Jimin bought you at the aquarium probably still sitting in the backseat of his car. 

You decided that you should tell him in person that it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to see him anymore. 

Yep, I can be there in 20. 

-

You stepped down the stone steps and through the bronze doors of Bemelmans and saw Jimin seated in the exact same spot he was last night at the bar.

“Hi Y/N,” he turned and saw you walk in, smiling. 

“Hey,” you smiled back, taking a seat beside him and the bartender slid a martini across for you. 

“I had it waiting for you,” Jimin grinned. 

“Oh, that’s really nice of you, thanks,” you laughed nervously. 

“Everything ok with your friend?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you. 

“Yeah..um, Jimin, look-” 

He swung back in his seat, pouting, “Uugghh, I knew it! So who is he? He’s your ex-boyfriend isn’t he? You’re getting back together?” He leaned forward onto the bar, dropping his head on his arm, whining. 

You sat frozen in your seat, completely taken aback by his cavalier and cute display. You studied his expression for a few moments, surprised that there was no anger or agitation in his voice as he spoke. You decided you’d just tell him the truth. And he listened quietly, his eyes watching yours intently, without judgement. 

“And then when he showed up today, and he told me he loves me, and, well it was kinda magical, like I’d been waiting for this for so long, you know?” you stopped, seeing how kindly he was smiling at you. 

“Well, I hope it’s not too forward for me to say that he is definitely not good enough for you,” he smiled, leaning onto his elbow on the bar. 

You laughed, “I’m...I’m cautiously optimistic to see where it goes...Oh, shit, Jimin!” you shot up in your seat. 

“Hmm?” He looked up at you with startled eyes. 

“What’s your Venmo? Let me pay you for all those stuffed animals, I feel so badly-”

He burst into laughter at this. “Y/N, love, don’t worry about it, it was my pleasure. It was a lovely date, after all, I haven’t had a fun day like this in a long time.” He reached his arms out to settle you back into the seat. 

“Are you sure? I feel really bad,” you mumbled. 

He sat looking at you quietly for a few moments. “You could make it up to me.” 

You flashed him a look as the devious grin grew on his face. “Jimin…” you said in a warning tone. 

He laughed, “No, no, nothing like that. I wanted you to come here to ask you something anyways, don’t worry, it’s a completely innocent request.” 

You sat up straight, “Ok, what is it?” 

“There’s this event I have to go to tomorrow night,” he took a sip of his drink, looking at you over the rim of the embossed glass. “It’s not really something I want to have to go to alone, and I was going to ask you to be my date. Now, I heard everything you just told me and I’m very happy for you. But given that I’ve really enjoyed your company, I’d still like to ask you to come with me. As a friend.” 

-

You thought about his question in perfect stillness as he drove you back to your apartment. When the car came to a stop, you lingered for a moment, looking out the passenger door window.

“What kind of event is it?” you asked. 

“Something for work,” he said simply, turning to look at you. 

“Like a work party?” 

“Yeah, something like that,” he smiled. 

“Is it casual?” 

He laughed, brushing his hand across his lip, “It’s actually quite formal.” 

You were glad for this response because this gave you an easy reason for why you couldn’t attend. “So everyone there will be like you, like in your network? I just, I don’t think I have anything to wear for an event like that..”

He looked at you for a moment and then turned, reaching back to the backseat and brought out a large, flat box sitting on the floor below all the stuffed animals. He handed it to you and you stared down at the large white box, with gold leaf along the edges, a band of black silk around it, tied in a large bow, an embossed mirrored double C logo on the top. 

“Jimin..” you shook your head, pushing the box back towards him. 

He pursed his lips, refusing to take it back. “Listen, I’ll be back here to pick you up at 8 tomorrow night. You think on if you want to come. If you do, you can wear this or something of your own, it really doesn’t matter to me, I know you’ll be lovely no matter what you wear. I went to the showroom to pick up my suit earlier and saw this dress in the window, and I thought of you so I got it,” he smiled softly. 

You looked down at the box in your lap and then back up at him, still making a gesture to give it back, but he held up his hand, shaking his head. 

“It’s up to you, love,” he looked at you with soft eyes.

[crystalgirl259]

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 1 New Roommate

SUMMARY: Kai gets settled into his new school and meets his new roommates...

****************

Kai growled as he exited the yellow cab and walked towards the campus, adjusting his black sunglasses and gripping his suitcase tightly as it bumped across the stone path. He hated his family for this. He hated his father for forcing him to do this, hated his mother for agreeing to it, and hated his sister for not having his back. He didn't even do anything wrong. There was no reason to send him away to a HUMAN boarding school. His parents had given him a stupid lecture about how he needed to connect with people more emotionally, but he tuned out halfway through the lecture.

This was a stupid idea.

He didn't have to spend the rest of his teen years studying with his food. Vampires might not actually hunt humans anymore, but that didn't mean Kai didn't think of them as food. As he walked he looked at the tour brochure they had given him for this city and the school he'd be attending. Ninjago City was comprised of many skyscrapers, featuring billboards for advertising businesses. Within the city were small shops, lively subway systems, small arcades, schools, large banks, parks, cafes, and a vast sewer system.

On the streets were buses that drive around regularly, and many parked cars along the sidewalks.

The school he was attending was pretty unique. The school was called 'Everfree School for Gift Youths', or just 'Everfree' for short. The school only enrolled teenagers aged sixteen to nineteen and focused on not only preparing their students for college, but also for life outside of school. That's why they not only made their students have roommates, but they also charged rent, making the students get jobs. This is what worried Kai the most.

What human in their right mind would hire a seventeen-year-old, hot-tempered, allegedly emotionally detached vampire?

Fortunately, his parents had already paid his share of rent for the next three months, so Kai had plenty of time to find a part-time job somewhere in the city. He was dreading that. He had done a few jobs before, at his parents' suggestion, but he never lasted long. He could feel the few groups of students eyeing him oddly, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Kai sighed as he ran his hand through his spikey hair and looked up at the school he would have to call home for the next two or so years.

The large white building was huge.

From what Kai could see, the school had around twelve floors and seemed to stretch for miles. Kai couldn't help feeling angst as he went into the daunting building. When he stepped into the building he found himself in what looked like a large reception area that was mostly devoid of other people. The reception area was nicely decorated. There was a flat-screen TV hanging from the ceiling with some news channel on, uncomfortable-looking chairs made of plastic set up in rows, tables with old magazines on them.

A young, but plain-looking receptionist with her short blond hair held behind her head by a red headband, sitting behind a desk.

She looked extremely bored. She then looked up, noticed Kai, and motioned for him to sit in a vacant chair.

"Someone will be with you shortly," She said in an annoyed tone of voice. Kai fidgeted nervously and looked around the room. It was deserted except for the receptionist, who never said a word to him after telling him to sit down. He didn't know how much time had gone by when a stern-looking nurse came out of a door next to where the receptionist sat and told him to come with her. She was in her forties with her hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head and had light blue eyes, and a fitted nurse uniform.

They walked down the whitewashed corridors and into the nurse's office.

He was instructed to sit on the examining table and the nurse started confirming his medical history with him as well his other information such as his full name and date of birth. The questioning went on, his health history, allergies, and so on. The nurse took his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse, and recorded them on her clipboard. After the examination was done, Kai was then led to an office where the principal, a man named Sensei Wu, met him.

Sensei Wu was an elderly man with a long white beard. He wore a white suit and a conical straw hat and carried a wooden cane around.

"Good Morning, Mr. Smith, please take a seat." He smiled politely at the teen and Kai reluctantly obeyed. "Now then, I know that this is a new experience for you, so I took the liberty of rooming you with two students who I believe will gladly welcome you to our school and help you adjust; their names are Jay Walker and Lloyd Garmadon."

"Can't I have a room of my own?" Kai asked and Sensei Wu frowned slightly, but it quickly disappeared.

"I'm afraid not unless we feel being in a room by yourself is for your own good, it is not something we do I'm afraid." The old man explained and Kai groaned in frustration. After signing the last bits of paperwork and receiving his dorm key, Kai grabbed his suitcase and went to meet his roommates...

****************

After going up the stairs, and getting lost for a little while, Kai eventually found the floor where his dorm was. After noting that the dorms on this floor were reverse to the dorms on the bottom floor, odds on the right, and evens on the left, he located the door to his room. The room he had was pretty big and seemed to be set into three sections. One section was very organized and decorated mostly green with a few comics scattered on the bed.

The other one was a little messy and was mostly dark blue, with comics, video games, and movie posters.

The other was completely bare aside from the bed white, pristine sheets. He saw his two roommates right away. One had long, blond tousled hair, and brown arched eyebrows with bright emerald green eyes that many people would state could sometimes glow in the dark. He wore a dark green jacket with a white t-shirt and black pants and black and dark green sneakers. The other had reddish-brown curly hair with brown eyebrows and light freckles with dark blue eyes.

He wore a blue jacket with a white stripe over a white t-shirt and blue pants with a comfy-looking orange wooly scarf.

They were sat on the blue bed, watching a video on the blond-haired boy's phone, and noticed him as soon as he stepped into the room. The blond one shot up with a big smile on his face, whereas the ginger one eyed him warily. But Kai expected that. While everyone he had seen so far was dressed in bright, colorful, casual clothes he looked like he'd just walked off the set of a Tim Burton film.

"Hey, you must be Kai right?" The blond teen asked as he extended his hand towards the vampire for a handshake. Kai eyed the hand for an awkward moment, not really sure what to do until it hit him and he suddenly grabbed the hand and started shaking it a bit too hard and a bit too fast.

"Yeah, and you are?" He asked when he finally let go of his roommate's hand.

"I'm Lloyd, and this is Jay." He smiled and Kai shot a look at Jay, who shrank back a little, still staring at him. "So, um, Kai, tell us about yourself; I mean, if we're all gonna be living together we need to know each other." Lloyd prompted nervously, not really sure what to say to their new roommate. Likewise, Kai didn't know how to talk to humans. In the end, he just blurted out the first thing he thought of.

"Well, my parents are pretty loaded with cash and they always want what's best for me and my sister, and I'm grateful for that but I can't sleep in my childhood coffin forever, you know what I mean?" He shrugged, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was. If they saw his hesitation, they'd go for the kill.

"Not really." Jay finally spoke, his voice filled with fear and Kai glared at him as an unpleasant silence filled the air.

"Uh, so, I'm sure the principal explained this already but rent is $264 a month, so that's gonna be $88 between each of us," Lloyd explained, trying to ease the tension. "You would also get free student parking."

"I can't drive."

"That's fine; Jay and I are really laid-back roommates, we don't party too hard but we are night owls."

"That's wonderful, I didn't know there was an anthropomorphic community in Ninjago City," Kai replied in genuine interest, only to become confused when both humans started giggling. He realized that they were not actually talking about literal owls and he was thankful that they thought he was just making a joke. He'd have to be more careful from now on.

"So is there anything else you'd like to know about me?"

"Yeah, you're not gonna murder us in our sleep or anything right?" Jay asked fearfully as he looked the brunette up and down.

"Um, no..." Kai replied, not really sure what to say to that. After they got the pleasantries out of the way, Lloyd and Jay helped him unpack and get settled into his part of the room. As he finished unpacking he noticed Jay still staring at him so Kai met his gaze. They both stood there staring at each other for a few minutes until Jay finally blinked and looked away. Kai barely managed to suppress and smirk and laugh. He was starting to think he really would like it here after all...

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER ONE: FAKING IT

SUMMARY: Lynn Moore dreads the beginning of her greatest fear: the first day of senior year. WORD COUNT: 2.3k NOTE: Get ready for typical teenager angst. Let’s all bully Lynn. WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

JUST LIKE EVERY YEAR AROUND the middle of August, my mom tells me the same advice; have a good first day. Of course, most mothers, fathers, or whoever tell their child this, but it's as pointless as a circle. Whoever has a fantastic first day of school? There are new teachers to impress, you're stuck with the same bunch of losers you sit with at lunch, and there are more jerks and morons to pick on you, despite the status quo you fall under. High school is frankly really awful all the way around and there's no way someone can deny or even try to argue that. These are the four years of utter hell and we're all dying to get out. I've stepped through those heavy doors, resembling the gates of hell, on a first day three times now. My anger and hatred have only been fueled rather than dying down. I'm sure nothing will ever change.

"Don't forget--" Mom tries to tell me from the porch in sweats and a maroon t-shirt. Her unnatural dirty blonde hair piled on the top of her head with an old red clip. There are tears welling in her eyes, seeing her only child almost grown up. I have one last year of school and mere months until I'm an adult. For me, it may pass by far too slow, but I bet it's a whole different story for her. In all honesty, it's ridiculous that the woman is so upset and not to mention annoying. I have done this routine twelve times now, for Christ sake, she should get a grip on herself by now. I don't mean to belittle my mother but one of her greatest achievements is being able to replicate every single stereotype women have, including having no control over her emotions. An outsider looking in may say I'm a bit to harsh. All I can say to that is no one has loved with her for almost eighteen years like I have.

"I got it!" I yell against the wind as it smacks my face while I walk across the grass. "Christ on a bike," I curse tossing my messy light brown hair from my field of vision.

The bus would take another five minutes to get the corner, but I'd like to not look stupid on my first day by running to catch up with the metal rectangle of devilry Peter Parker style. Well, maybe it would turn into an interesting story at the least. Spiderman is my favorite superhero of all time after all. Despite this, I only allow an angry face to part my path. It's totally fake but faking it is the only way to survive.

Down at the intersection, there are already kids waiting. I think it's safe to assume that all of the puberty-sicken teenagers are freshmen or sophomores since most junior and seniors are still asleep at this early hour, knowing the good majority are able to drive. I take a good look at all of them. The fact that they find throwing bits of gravel at squirrels or birds makes me want to go over and smack them upside the head. That thought crosses my mind a lot. The world is so full of morons; it's hard to pick out which ones are actually tolerable. They're almost as bad as kids in letterman jackets with expensive sports cars. Those fuckers are the worst. All they care about is their ego and how much money they can wave around coming right from mommy and daddy's wallet.

Take the kid in the striped shirt tucked into his hand-me-down jeans. He looks like a nice kid; after all, he's got nothing to brag about. His parents are probably office workers or maybe nothing too difficult. Nothing too important. That's all we are, right? I mean, once we're dead and gone. No one is gonna care what car you drove or what brand your plain white shirt is. People who think they're hotshots or something special are the real morons.

Besides, who thinks it's cool to spend thirty bucks on a t-shirt?

An old car passes, a teenage girl in my grade sits in the driver's seat. I sort of duck out of the way. Not James Bond-like, but I move my already shitty hair in front of my face as if it's going to help hide my identity. The chick probably didn't even see me. I watch the car drive on, kinda imagining what sort of car I would drive once I get one. I suppose I would have to learn first. I personally am not a fan of getting behind the wheel. Hell, I can't even ride a bike without falling over. I'd rather move to a large city and order cabs to get me places. They seem more convenient and, if you get in a wreck, it's not your fault and it's not your money coming out of pocket. No car equals more money. Then again, no car also is equivalent to no freedom and taxis and Uber's can get expensive. It seems like each idea is flawed these days.

Upon scanning the area again— this time ignoring the idiots— I notice only one person who seems excited out of the group. Her dark brown hair and dark skin contrast to the majority of our town, including those waiting nearby. Her curled hair bounces with each stride she takes, happier than the step prior.

Some say it's strange that the girl and I are such good friends. You don't see God and Satan going out and having coffee every weekend or anything.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I question as I readjust my dark blue shirt underneath the flannel. Flannels are my favorite personal quirk. I own at least fifty, most being cool or dark colors. I don't have an obsession; just an interest that I care way too much about. Flannels are to Lynn Moore as controversy is to famous influencers. Looking back up, my eyebrow is still raised. I'm shocked to see her here, assuming her parents would have given her a lift. After a second, it dawned on me that this, riding the bus to school, was her punishment for getting into an accident she won't take responsibility for.

Posting memes and vines references are fun and all, but doing it while going 60 down a highway isn't the smartest. Forgive me for not following the strict millennial handbook but I don't actually want to die nor do I want my friends to.

My best friend, Ellie Graves, gives a small glare. "Why does it always seem like you're on your period?" I shrug my shoulders, and played with the wire choker I always wore. As my fingers slip underneath the necklace, it is evident how to lose it has gotten since I bought it a few months ago. I make a mental note to take a quick trip to the shopping side of the internet sometime soon.

I click my tongue before answering. "Probably because I'm closer to hell than you are," I say, referring to my obvious lack of height. I'm only five feet and just barely three inches off the ground while Ellie is at least five feet and seven inches. Personally I think we would make a cute couple given our attitudes and the extremities of our heights, except for the fact that dearest Ellie is not interested in people other than men. What a party pooper. For me, anyway. "But lets do our best to not reinforce stereotypes," I say referring to her comment.

She nods her head. "Yes, mother." I snort at her sass, leaning my body weight onto my right leg. "But hey! We have one year left! That's something to be excited about, am I right?"

Yes, I would say she is right. Freshmen, sophomore, and the dragged out junior year have come and passed, full of useless information and embarrassing memories with it. It's mostly embarrassing if I have to be honest. School isn't my thing, however falling up and down the main set of stairs apparently is. Who knew?

"Yeah, I suppose so. At least we're considered adults now," I reply trying to find some positive about the situation.

Ellie begins to lightly laugh, "True. That's kinda a scary thought, though." Her body shudders, either because a breeze just blew passed or out of what she just said.

The age of freedom is so close, I can nearly touch it. Despite my longing to finally buy a lottery ticket and spray paint, the fear of adulthood gnaws at the back of my mind. With eighteen comes responsibility, something I lack to a high degree. I muse the idea of getting a degree of irresponsibility. However, I don't think such diploma could help me get into a creative writing career.

I make a thinking face and bring my shoulders to my ears preparing for an exaggerated response. "Well, you aren't wrong," I reply in a forced high pitch noise, catching the attention of the guys. Now I notice they are all matching in basketball shorts and a jacket. Men's fashion, ladies and gents. Ellie chuckles at my utter dorkiness while I continue to make some weird face I'm sure she will get a picture of sometime within the next few seconds.

It's crazy how time is able to fly. Just last week, so it seems, the outgoing, beaming chick I have as a best friend and I were in third grade, the year I moved to a new house, a different school, and a very different town. Although my eight-year-old-self hated it at the time, I'm glad I left the northern state of Maine, all the way across to the midwest. That is if you consider southern Missouri part of the midwest. If I hadn't, who would have the privilege of being my first smack in the face? Or first sleepover (with an actual girl)? Who knows, and I honestly wouldn't like to. Ellie's my best friend; I would be dead if she didn't have my back. And I'm honestly positive she would say the same about her tiny best pal.

Little time passes after the picture was indeed taken and posted on Elle's Snapchat before an ugly shade of yellowish-orange appears entering the neighborhood. Ellie is practically fidgeting, fighting the urge to run up the bus even if it is some distance away. My eyes roll trying to not say anything to kill her spirit but I do let out an accidental groan as its loud hum draws nearer. The bus came to a screeching halt and I already want to turn on my heel and head home. When I step on, I notice there is a new driver this year. After Ellie got her license and could legally drive me around, I never bothered with the bus unless I needed space or she was busy, which was hardly ever. Ellie and I mostly spend our time together with our group of friends. Despite this, I still easily took notice of a different person in the seat. Instead of a balding old man with a face like alligator skin, a woman sat in the brown leather seat and looks roughly in her forties. She, like all of us except for Ellie, looks tired but fakes a smile anyways. The same rules apply; middle school and junior high in the front and high school in the back. It seems as if sitting in the back always made you cool of some sort. Every time a kid got away with it in middle school, he or she was automatically the bad kid, the cool kid, or the king of the bus. God, how stupid is that theory? These thoughts remind me how annoying and stupid we all were at ten and eleven years old. I'm sure if I had a duplicate of myself at that age, I'd shoot either one of us to cease me from the utter pain.

Instead of going all the way to the back, I turn to sit in the seat half way down the aisle while plunging in an earbud, leaving one open to listen to Ellie. I instantly scroll through an select a playlist that mixes rock, punk, and even some emo. Given today being my last first day, I figured early morning jams would be appropriate to get me pumped up even though I tend to listen to this genre quite often as of lately. I enjoy the heavy guitar and double bass pedal and lyrics I can either relate to or wonder who hurt the singer so bad. Needless to say, I'm definitely more of a rock person however there's still a lot of other types of music on my device, including orchestra and folk or indie. I don't like to limit what I listen to; whatever makes me feel good ends up on my phone. Simple as that.

"So, Lynn," Ellie says sliding in right next to me. I look in her direction, which was to my right, waiting for her to respond. She looks at me, but nothing came out of her mouth. Slowly, I arch a brow. Still, there was nothing. "I had nothing to say, I just wanted your attention." Ellie gave a stupid grin while I glare kindly at her if there is such a thing.

My head shakes and I reach out to pat her cheek, "You, my darling, are an absolute dumbass."

I feel her grin grow against my hand since I haven't moved it yet. "Not as big as you, though." I can't argue; she has a point.

As the bus lunches forwards, I look out the window and watch the world go by. Something settles in my gut about then, the feeling both familiar and foreign. I can't tell what it is, but as I watch the clouds roll in over the sun and birds flying through the sky, I only hope my last year of high school will be memorable.

[fic-for-fic-sake]

It was self defense

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of death, angst, abuse, swearing. If any of this triggers you, DO NOT READ IT!

A/N: I started writing this a while ago, and just finished it tonight. Basically the reader has an abusive boyfriend and in the heat of the moment something bad happens and Bucky helps her deal with the aftermath. 

Tuesday nights were by far the worst. Jake would come home from a night of schmoozing his fellow Wall Street workers, reeking of gin and cigar smoke. He would stumble through the door, always smiling and laughing, like the jokes from the party hadn’t worn off yet. You would be in the living room, working. Hunched over your laptop, the bright screen a stark contrast to the black night that seeped in through the windows. Managing the lives of the Avengers was never an easy task but it was one that you did with pride. Usually Jake was fine with that, except when he wasn’t. 

“Baby, are you still working? It’s so late.” Jake slurred as he made his way into the kitchen. He loosened his red striped tie and grabbed a beer from the fridge, apparently he hadn’t had enough yet. 

“Yeah,” you began, rubbing your temples with your fingertips, “I just need to finish the schedule for the month.” 

You heard him rifle through drawers trying to find a bottle opener. For a while the only noise in your shared living space was the rattle of objects and Jake’s frustrated groaning. He paused, and you assumed he found what he was looking for. You heard the sound of his dress shoes hitting the wood floor as he walked in your direction. You really weren’t in the mood for his drunken behavior right now, you had schedules to build. Over the top of your screen you saw his fingers curl around your monitor and had your mouth poised with a question when he closed your laptop, beating you to the punch. 

“What the fuck is this?” He sneered, shoving the object in question into your face. 

“What is what?” You retorted, grabbing his wrist and stilling it so you could see what he was talking about. 

“This.” He said, forcefully, as he held what appeared to be a lighter in his hand. 

“Please tell me you’re not drunk enough to recognize a lighter Jake.” You joked back, rolling your eyes slightly. This was bad, even for him. 

“I know what it is but who does it belong to? Cause it sure as shit isn’t mine.” He pressed, moving around the table to stand over you. You stood up from your chair slowly, creating distance between the two of you. 

“I don’t know, maybe someone on the team? They were over here earlier so we could discuss PR for the next month.” You replied calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. You knew what Jake could be like when he was drunk and mad, it wasn’t fun. But usually you could lull him down so he was mostly docile. 

“Who?” 

“Who, what?” 

“Who. From the team. Was here.” Jake questioned, tone clipped. You let out a shaky breath, Jake could be a little jealous of the team from time to time. Especially Bucky. There was a history there and Jake knew it but no matter how many times you assured him it was over, it was all white noise to him. He wouldn’t believe it, and you had the bruises to prove it. Every time you brought Jake to an event and he saw Bucky look at you or even spare a word in your direction you felt it for the next week. Jake always swore that it would be the last time and he wouldn’t get so bent out of shape unless he really loved you. So you stayed, and you believed him. 

Your silence was a dead giveaway as to who from the team had been in your apartment. A hard blow left your right cheek stinging in pain, fat hot tears worked their way down your face as you held your cheek in your palm. 

“Answer me Y/N, who was here?” He screamed. 

“Bu-Bucky.” You choked out. “But I swear we were just going over his schedule.” 

“Horse shit.” Jake retorted, shoving you backwards. Your legs caught on the back of your chair and you were tossed onto the ground with a hard smack. “I bet you wore this little number for him didn’t you?” He accused, gesturing towards your plain black leggings and off the shoulder t-shirt. 

“No.” You choked out, attempting to claw yourself into a sitting position but Jake advanced on you. Kicking you swiftly in the ribs and forcing you back down. 

“Am I a joke to you Y/N?” He challenged as he squatted down next to you and shook your shoulders roughly. 

You violently shook your head no, as fear slowly coursed through your veins. His hand curled into a fist and tore through your left cheek, you could see a spatter of blood leave your mouth and decorate the stainless steel refrigerator. You cried out in pain as he wrapped his hands around your throat, forcing you to meet his harsh gaze. 

“You fucking twat. I could have any woman in the city that I want. You know that right? But I chose you. And how do you repay my gratitude? By fucking your ex in my own home?” He roared as he squeezed your throat so tight you saw black spots begin to darken your vision. You heard a sound that sounded like a dying cat and realized that the noise was coming from your own mouth. 

Your hands scrambled on the floor trying to find something to defend yourself with, your mind racing with the minimal oxygen it still had. Your hand gripped something cool and solid. You weren’t sure what it was but you brought it up and jabbed it into Jake’s arm. You could see the metal corkscrew stick out halfway from his bicep as he let out a piercing howl. He subsequently released your throat and you coughed, trying to work air back into your lungs. However, your victory was short lived. 

“You bitch, you’re gonna pay for that.” He promised, before he pulled the corkscrew out of his arm and deposited it somewhere on the floor. You scrambled to stand up, your hands seeking purchase on the cool marble countertop. Before you could stand all the way however, Jake grabbed your ankle and ripped you down once again. As you flailed your arms the knife block was knocked over and you busted your lip on a cabinet hinge on the way down. 

The copper taste of your own blood filling your mouth made you gag. Your vision was tear streaked as Jake grabbed your ankle once more and dragged you through the kitchen. You quickly grabbed the knife block and blindly threw it behind you hoping to subdue your boyfriend turned attacker. He yelped and you felt the grip on your ankle let go, you grabbed the butcher's knife and turned around to see Jake attempt to scramble towards you on the ground. He had the wooden knife block in his hands and was about to deliver a blow to your head when your instincts took over and suddenly the knife was buried in his chest. 

He let out a strangled cry as his eyes went wide and he looked down at the wound. You could feel his thick, warm, blood ooze out from the entry wound and coat your fingers in slick, red warmth. His hand came to your bicep and squeezed hard. With shaky fingers you removed the knife and stabbed again, further this time. Jake’s hand went slack around your arm and he fell backwards, sprawled out on your kitchen floor. You could feel hot tears run down your face as you removed the knife for a second time. You noticed the faint trickle of blood that made its way out of the corner of his mouth. 

You tossed the knife to the other side of the kitchen and heard the faint clatter as it landed. You sat there, shock kept you from moving. The silence was deafening. Jake’s breathing turned shallow until he was rasping and twitching and then he wasn’t. You sat there, next to his body, bloody hands trembling until you heard the faint sound of your phone ringing. Wordlessly, you stood up and went to check it. 

Bloody fingerprints stained the phone screen as you answered. 

All you could do was breathe into the receiver. Too numb to say anything. 

“Hello? Y/N? You there doll?” Bucky’s voice sounded from the other end. 

“B-Bucky?” You whispered, voice hardly audible, raspy from screaming. 

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong, are you okay?” Bucky’s deep voice probed from the other end of the line. At the pet name you lost it, gut wrenching sobs racking your body. You could hear Bucky asking questions from the other end of the line but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer them. Could only think about the man you killed, bleeding out in your shared kitchen. 

“Y/N don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.” Bucky spoke into your ear before you heard the dial tone. You sank back down onto the floor next to Jake. Unsure of where else to go. 

You heard a knock at your door and you scrambled to get up, to hide, to do, you weren’t sure of. You felt a wave of panic wash over you, adrenaline spiking. 

“Doll, it’s me, can I come in?” Bucky asked, voice muffled by the door. You slowly stood up and opened the door for him. Bucky’s ice blue eyes examined your battered face. Your busted lip, black cheek, and purple throat did a number on his heart. 

“Shit, what happened?” He questioned, eyes never leaving you. Your tears were coming faster now, pouring down your face and you brought your blood dried hands up to wipe your cheeks clean. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm. He walked around you into the kitchen and you heard his sharp intake of breath. He came back to you and gently placed his hands on either side of your face. 

“Sweetheart, I know this is gonna be hard, but I need you to tell me everything that happened, okay? I can help, but I need you to tell me.” Azure eyes burned into yours with worry and determination. With a shaky breath you told Bucky everything until your hands were trembling again and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. 

Cool metal fingers grasped your chin and pulled your head up to meet his eyes, “Look at me. You were defending yourself. It’s okay. Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I take care of this?” He spoke softly as he stroked your hair with his flesh hand. 

Wordlessly, you made your way to the bedroom you shared with Jake. The bed was made to his standards, per usual, anything else would’ve resulted in you getting smacked. You looked to his side of the bed and his nightstand, everything was just how he left it. The Wall Street Journal folded by the lamp, his reading glasses folded next to the paper, and one of his watches haphazardly tossed on the hardwood. You felt numb as you passed the table and walked into the bathroom. You tried to avoid the mirror but when you caught your reflection you gasped. Now you understood why Bucky looked so alarmed, you looked as battered and broken as you felt. 

You lifted your shirt over your head and winced in pain. You could already feel bruises forming where Jake kicked you and from where you fell. You went into the shower and turned the water on hot, standing under the stream and silently watching as the blood that was caked to your body swirled down the white tiled drain. You scrubbed your body until it was red and raw and still you didn’t feel clean. Fresh sobs caught in your throat as you continued to come out of your state of shock. You sank to the shower floor, sitting catatonically, unable to move or feel much of anything. 

A while later, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, could’ve been seconds or hours, you heard Bucky call out for you, but you didn’t have the strength to answer, just sit under the now cold spray of water and stare at cream colored tiles, tiles that you and Jake picked out together, and now he was dead. You killed him. Murderer. 

“Sweetheart, I’m coming in okay?” Bucky called out before opening the bathroom door. You could see his figure behind the clear glass of the shower and he turned to look at you. His hair was tied up and his sleeves were rolled up, but the second he caught your eyes his whole demeanor changed. His shoulders visibly softened as he walked into the shower with you, clothes and all. “The water’s cold doll.” Is all he said. 

“Jake’s dead. He’s dead because of me, I did this. I’m a murderer.” You whispered, your back to the super soldier. 

“Honey, no.” Bucky began, sinking to his knees and pulling your naked form against his chest. His clothes were soggy but he didn’t seem to care. “He did this to himself, he beat you. You were defending yourself.” Bucky repeated his words from earlier. You didn’t move as Bucky turned off the water and scooped you into his arms, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around your body before carrying you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. 

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me okay?” Bucky pleaded, grabbing your shoulders and meeting your eyes with his. “I need you to pack a bag. Whatever you think you’ll need for a few weeks, just the essentials.” 

“Oh my God I’m going to jail!” You wailed, handing coming up to hide your face as you cried again, panic seeming to break you out of your stupor. 

“Baby, no. You’re not going to jail, you’re coming with me, to the compound. You can stay in your old room if you want.” Bucky explained, hugging you tight against him as you shook with terror. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t know what to make of it. 

When you were ready Bucky let you go so you could pack. With shaky hands you grabbed a duffel bag out of your closet and pulled shirts off of their hangers, not caring what you were grabbing but throwing it into the bag anyway. Your mind was racing a million miles a minute as you packed what you thought you needed, your mind not as sharp given the current circumstances. 

Within ten minutes you had a bag packed and ready to go. You started to walk back to the kitchen but flashbulb memories attacked you on the way. Images of Jake coming after you, blood on the fridge, the knife, how his blood felt on your hands, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t go back in there. You collapsed in the hallway, wailing cries coming out of your mouth. Bucky came running and caught you before you fell, hauling you back to your feet. 

“I can’t- I can’t do it Bucky. I can’t go back in there.” You argued, vehemently shaking your head ‘no’. 

“Y/N.” Bucky said, his tone even and sure. He cupped your face in his hands, the metal providing a soothing sensation. “You gotta be brave. Can you do that for me doll? Can you be my brave girl?” Bucky implored, his eyes saying more than his words ever could. You drew on some of his strength as you took in a deep breath. Bucky took your hand in his and led you through the kitchen, where you abruptly stopped. 

Everything was gone. The blood, the knife, the corkscrew, knife block, and most importantly, Jake. Jake was gone. 

“Where’s the body Bucky?” You whispered shakily. 

“I took care of it.” He replied. 

“Where’s Jake? Bucky where is he?” You tried once again, pulling his arm as if to pull the truth from his lips. 

“I think it’s best if you don’t know.” Bucky responded, pulling you through the front door of your apartment and shutting it behind you. He ushered you out of the building and to his car which was parked around front. He placed your duffel bag in the backseat as you climbed into the passengers side and buckled yourself in. 

You and Bucky drove in silence for a while. Your mind kept replaying everything that happened, wondering if you could change it somehow. If you could’ve maybe put the knife into Jake’s shoulder instead of his chest, he would still be here. You would still be you. Not this, thing, not this monster. 

“Do you hate me?” Your voice was barely above a murmur as you stared at the road ahead, only illuminated by the headlights of the car. 

“What?” Bucky asked, his head whipping around to look at you. You were slumped into your seat, biting your nails and shaking. 

“I’m a murderer Bucky, a bad guy. You hunt bad guys for a living. You must hate me.” You explained, head turning to look at Bucky, tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to spill over. Bucky turned on his blinker as he turned down a small dirt path, just off the main road, and killed the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt so he could turn to face you fully. 

“Doll, I’m a trained killer. I fought in World War 2 and killed plenty of people. I was the Winter Soldier, the arm of Hydra for years and I killed, and now I kill bad guys. I have a lot of blood on my hands, do you hate me?” 

“What? No! Bucky I could never hate you.” You replied quickly, head snapping to look at him as he said the question. 

“Just as I could never hate you.” He responded forcefully, trying to get you to see his point. “How many times did Jake hit you?” 

“I don’t know.” You replied, looking away from him. 

“Doll.” 

“Too many to count.” You responded weakly. 

“You’re not a cold blooded killer Y/N. He came after you and it was self defense. How could I possibly hate you for defending yourself against a scumbag like him?” Bucky carded his hands through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Fuck, I should’ve seen it sooner.” He said angrily. 

“It’s not your fault Buck. I hid it from everyone, nobody knew.” 

“I swear to God sweetheart, nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. I won’t let ‘em.” He said as he clasped your hand in his and turned the car back on, steering it back on the road. You two drove the rest of the way in silence. Bucky occasionally brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, and he never once let go of your hand. 

[ladywinterwitch]

Silver

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader 

Summary: You and Sebastian have been dating for a little over a year, and hwen he asked you to be his date at the Avengers: Endgame premiere, you couldn’t be happier. Now the only thing that’s missing, it’s the dress.

Warnings: None except fluff, two ofc, some cursing

Word count: 1651

A/n: Nothing elaborate, but cute nonetheless. Ps: I know that the gif is from TWS premiere, but I needed that suit color.

(Gif not mine)

-Hey sweetie!- you turned around, seeing your two besties coming towards you with an excited face.

-Finally! Ugh what took you so long?- you hug them both to greet them. Lily huffs.

-Traffic was a bitch.- Carol rolls her eyes, opening the boutique's door.

-It's not true, I had to wait for her to finish her damn make up.-

-You never change.- you laugh shaking your head. The guilty girl gives the other a slight nudge with her elbow.

-Thanks a lot.-

-Always honey.- Carol responds with a fake smile.

-Hello girls, can I help you?- a nice woman, probably in her forties, approached them. She was wearing a black jumpsuit that looked as elegant as the rest of the shop. That was all Sebastian’s fault. He insisted to pay. You didn’t want to spend a fortune for a dress, but he said to choose whatever you liked. 

A fortune for him that you weren’t a mony grabber or someone who spends a lot in general. And he trusted you.

-Yeah, I'm here to find an evening dress.- you responded. She nodded and smiled politely, inviting the three of you towards some fancy leather couches with a  few changing rooms nearby. The tent was open, showing a quite wide space and a full body mirror, both outside and inside the room.

You would've expected to explore the shop, but you soon understood that it was one of those places where you had to be followed by a shop assistant at every step.

-So, what's the big occasion, if I may?- she asked, offering champagne to the three of you. Your friends almost had their eyes out of their head at the sight. None of you was really used to this fancy shit.

-A premiere.- her eyes widened a bit.

-Wow. We really need you to shine then, don't we?- you gave her a shy smile and she chuckled. Then she made you get up to go take a look at the dresses. Carol and Lily immediately started to look and comment on each one.

-So, just to get a more specific idea. Did you have something in mind?-

-I'm sure about a long dress. Something elegant, not too tight maybe?- you didn't have a precise idea about what you wanted. All you knew was that you didn't want to appear raunchy nor ridiculus with something too stravagant. It wasn't your style. Also, it would’ve been your first public appearence with Sebastian, and your first time in front of the paparazzi ever.

It had been a fight sometimes to keep your relationship under wraps, and knowing how much Sebastian valued his privacy, it surprised you when he asked you to come to the premiere as his plus one. He was giving you trust, and you wanted to prove to him that you were worthy of it, because he deserves it.

-Okay, I think I got it. Why don't you go in the changing room while I bring you a few to try on hmm?-

-

The lady, which you later found out to be named Ines, brought you five different dresses. Your friends gawked at you every time, tellin' that you looked great, but the gowns didn't really convinced you, even though they were beautiful. The first was a sleeveless blue dress with a silver embroidered top with a very deep neckline, the second had a basically identical cut to the first, but the neckline was more covered and the color was a very light, almost greyish blue and the whole dress was embroidered, the third was embroidered, rose gold and had long sleeves, the fourth was plain, violet and was covering just one shoulder, and the fifth and last one was emerald, with the upper part separated from the skirt kinda like a crop top but longer, decorated with stones and sleveless but with a collar attached, while the skirt was made in soft organza and had two stripes covered in stones at the waist. 

They really were beautiful. The problems were that one didn’t fit your taste, or it didn’t convince you. In any case, you wanted to look around for yourself, to avoi wasting both yours and the lady’s time.

-Can I take a look around?- you ask with a smile, still wearing the fifth dress.

-Yes sure, that way.- she pointed to your right. You went around, barefoot on the soft moquette, your wavy hair picked up with a large pin.

-I don't understad why you don't like those dresses. I mean, you look like a damn princess even right now.- Lily said, following you. You shrugged.

-It's not that I din't liked them. I just didn't liked them enough.- you look at a few more dresses, then you stop, picking one.

You look at it for a few seconds and smile, then you turn to Ines.

-I take this one.- you announce with convinction.

-What? So fast?- Carol says shocked. She look at Lily, which just shrugs.

-You may want to try it on first, Darling? I'm sure it'll look great, it's just a precaution.- the shop assistant talks sweetly to you.

-Alright, but I'm buying this.- you answer while you close the tent of the changing room.

-

You tried it on, and it fitted you like a glove. You paid, a quite reasonable prince surprisingly, and then went home after two full hours of searching.

-Honey, I'm home.- you called out while you closed the door to your shared apartament. Sebastian came out of the kitchen in his full glory. A tight black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, freshly washed fluffy hair and a delicious scruff. He smiled at you widely.

-Hi baby.- he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you close to kiss him.

-I missed you too.- you chuckled, caressing his cheek.

-Did you find what you wanted?- he asked, leading you to the kitchen where he was making dinner. Kind of a miracle, considering that before meeting you he never even tried to learn to cook.

-Yes. Mmh, it smells amazing in here.- you mix the boiling sauce with a spoon.

-Thank you. And?- you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter.

-And what?- you asked, he got closer, starting to kiss your neck, cheek and collarbone.

-Can I see it?- you moaned slightly, biting your lip so suppress a smile.

-Nope.- he backed away to face you.

-Why?- you give him a quick kiss and then you went to the kitchen stove to turn the sauce off.

-I want you to see the whole package the day of the premiere.- you answer.

-I don't care about the 'whole package'. You, stark naked and without make up are a whole package for me already.- he resumed to kiss your neck.

-Okay lover boy. But I'm not changing  my mind. Also, it's still at the boutique, I'll go fetch it the morning of the premiere.-

-You're cruel.- he pouted sitting at the set table. You placed his plate in front of him giving him a kiss on the head.

-Evil.-

-

A week later, it was the day of the premiere. You went to collect your dress in the morning and now, Sebastian's hairstylist, which brought along a friend of hers who was a make up artist, was applying the last touches to your face. You decided to go for a grey bright smokey eye which made your eyes magnetic, some blush and a medium red matte lipstick. You didn't do anything special with your hair, you just curled them in natual beach waves and pinned two locks in the back of your head, fixing them with a silver and diamonds star shaped pin.

Finally, you put you dress above the black lace lingerie, which you knew Sebastian would appreciate later on. Carol and Lily were there too to help you get ready. They fixed your dress and checked your make up for the last time.

-Perfect.- the first said.

-Sebastian's gonna love it, y/n.- you smiled at her.

A  sudden knock on your door interrupted your conversation.

-Baby, the driver will be here in ten minutes, are you ready?- your boyfriend's voice spoke through the door.

Your friends looked at you excitedly and you huffed out a breath before going to open the door.

You were welcomed with the sight him in a classic black suit with a black shirt and tie. His scruff was gone and his hair were a litle shorter and styled upwards.

When you were done checking him out you saw that his mouth was slightly agape and his eyes full of love.

-You're stunning baby.- he finally said. You smiled sheepishly.

-You look handsome. I'm kinda jealous.- you laugh a bit placing your palms on his chest.

-You shouldn't be. You look brighter than a star.- he smirked, then frowned a bit looking again at your dress.

-Are these...for me?- he asked referring to the silver stars adorning your black dress. You smiled widely, happy that he understood it.

-The winter soldier's colours. Black, silver and red.- you marked the last word with a featherlight kiss on his lips.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds and your smiled faltered a bit.

-You don't like- but before you could finish you sentence he grabbed your face by your cheeks and kissed you. You placed your hand on his wrists and closed your eyes.

-I love it. And I love you.- he whispered on your mouth. You smiled fondly at him, while you locked gazes.

-Sorry to interrupt, but it's better if we go now.- Carol said startling you a bit. You forgot that they were even there.

-Oh sure. Thankyou girls, for everything.- you hugged them quickly.

-Don't mention it sugar. You both look fantastic, so if you'll excuse me now I'm going home to cry with a bottle of wine.- Lily said in a dramatic tone making you all laugh.

After a few minutes the driver arrived and you got in the car.

-Are you okay?- he asked kissing your hand.

-Just a little nervous.-

-Don't be, you look beautiful. Also, you already know half of the cast. It's going to be alright.- he soothed you. You smiled feeling a bit reassured.

-We have arrived, sir.- the driver says.

-Let's go out there.- you say confidently while a smile creeps on his face.

Hope you liked it. Feedback is always appreciated :)

[daesungfmd]

hwang daesung + fashion! (part one)

daesung’s only long-term goal is to live a colorful life and, in his eyes, that starts with fashion. if you open the doors to his closet, you’ll see neon colors, cheap patterns and varying materials that don’t appear to be organized in any respectable kind of way  ―  on a day to day basis, he usually picks the first item blindly and builds an outfit from there. a good enough idea, except... from how he usually dresses, you’d think that he picks every individual piece the same way. 

aesthetic 3 + headcanon 3  /  wc: 1035.

first things first, it’s important to note that fashion means a lot to daesung. to him, it’s a way to make your personality visible  ―  a way to express yourself even in silence. however, he doesn’t frequently speak up about his interest because he is (rather unfortunately) regarded as a fashion terrorist  &  he doesn’t want to get clowned any more than he absolutely has to because he’s scared it’ll make him lose his passion/interest in fashion, yk? so he just lets everyone think he doesn’t care.

but he’s pretty much always shopping either physically or online and he spends a really long time planning outfits / getting ready, so it’s not that hard to realize that he puts a lot of effort in??? it’s a lot more obvious than he thinks </3

honestly, he doesn’t even look that bad most of the time. it’s just that he doesn’t pay attention to trends, doesn’t care about wearing colors that compliment his skin tone or go with the season, doesn’t care about wearing expensive brands. he just wears whatever he wants to whenever he wants to, which results in him looking like he doesn’t know anything about fashion. he does, he just doesn’t care.

but there are times when he does simply just look bad because he’s bad at matching colors  &  doesn’t really care about what brands he wears together??? mf will wear a gucci belt with a pair of 5,000w chinos he bought from a street stall and act like he looks good.

on the topic of gucci... daesung has a few really, really expensive clothing items (more on that in the accessories post), but for the most part, he goes for cheaper brands. probably not considered cheap by the average person, but considering he doesn’t have much else to spend his money on, his tastes are surprisingly cheap. he mostly wears chinatown market, thisisneverthat, vans  &  odd future items. 

other brands he likes:  converse, supreme, trasher, adidas, nike, ripndip, santa cruz, chancechance, charm’s, tommy hilfiger, beyond closet, vetements.

for shoes, he prefers vans over anything else. he has a lot of different styles; old skool, authentic, era, slip-ons, etc. he has a few pairs that are typical colors like black  &  white, but most of them are bold or pastel colors and/or special edition styles from collabs that vans has done with other brands. converse is his second favorite shoe brand; for converse, he likes high-tops and the og low-tops. he also has a decent amount of converse in varing styles/colors, but not quite as many pairs as vans. third favorite is crocs. every time he wears them, he gets Torn To Pieces by his Loving Fans, so nowadays he only wears them if he’s just going to be chilling with a friend or something like that. he collects the little charms to express his personality/interests! other shoe brands he likes are dr martens, reebok, adidas  &  nike.

that said, these aren’t the only things you’ll find in his closet. he’s very much the type to just go strolling around on off days and pick things up that he likes in secondhand shops, from street markets, from independent shops, etc. 

he has very particular tastes, but at the same time, he’s not that picky? he views himself as being a loud  &  optimistic guy, so he prefers things that reflect this. his favorite style is tie-dye, but he also likes neon colors (especially green/yellow), reflective materials, rainbow designs, stripes, quirky patterns, etc. he likes items that are very in-your-face, blinding caution sign vibes. you’ll rarely see him wearing solid colors, and if he is, then it’s probably a neon. he likes to be seen!!!

he buys most of his clothes a size or two too big because he likes the baggy fit / he isn’t particularly comfortable with his body but that’s a story for another time. enjoys looking like a very colorful shapeless being.

for pants, he mainly wears brightly colored cargo pants, jeans with patterns sewn into them or sweats. doesn’t wear shorts all that often, but when he does, they’re usually basketball style shorts with some cartoony graphic on them.

for tops, he likes t-shirts (long sleeves or short sleeves, or layered), windbreakers  &  hoodies more than anything else. every now and then he’ll throw on a cardigan if it’s cold enough. tank tops do not exist in his wardrobe...... not a single one. hates ‘em. he has a lot of chunky knit sweaters  &  pullover sweaters, but they usually only make an appearance on the Coldest Days of the year. except for his christmas sweater collection. he’s the ugly christmas sweater king, has one for every single day of december (but has only gone through with wearing all of them One Time. never again). be on the lookout for those this month because he is in a jolly mood and ready to spread that holiday cheer.

the type to wear matching sweaters with his dog, which i imagine his fans either absolutely hate or absolutely love.

when it comes to socks, he very rarely wears plain ones. he HAS some plain ones (mainly vans/nike brand), but he thinks it’s so much more fun to wear really gimmicky ones with dumb designs on them. ~acts~ embarrassed any time he has to take his shoes off on a variety show and gets caught wearing fuckin pink panther or spongebob socks, but is actually glad he gets to show off his collection <333

any time he has to wear a suit, he makes sure to find his most ridiculously attention-grabbing socks and nonchalantly show them off on camera. can’t be Sleek and Elegant ever. it’s just not his thing.

eeevvvverrryyy now and then he’ll wear a plain/toned-down outfit because you can’t flex on ‘em all the time, right? goes for simple ~boyfriend~ looks when he doesn’t feel like standing out because they’re still fashionable enough.

doesn’t always look colorful, either  ―  he prefers to, but he also can’t really settle on a style/aesthetic because he likes a lot of different looks. is he a skater boy? an indie boy? an e-boy? a soft boy? he is simultaneously all and none of them. 

[tibbinswrites]

Suptober Day 6 - Outfit of the Day

Castiel liked going to the farmer’s market in town held on the first Saturday of each month from May through to October, before it became the daily ‘Christmas market’ in December. Sam would go with him most times but some days, like today, he’d prefer to stay in. Cas mostly went for the local honey; the stall was run by a sunny woman called Lucy in her mid 40s who lived on the outskirts of town with her apiary and she always slipped Castiel an extra jar because he ended up standing there letting her talk about bees for at least 20 minutes.

“You could come and see ’em for yerself, y’know,” she told him with a friendly wink, “I open them to the public some days. There’s a little tunnel and shed there with information of the types of bees I keep. For schoolkids mostly, class trips, y’know on the last Wednesday of the month in the summer. But if you come by sometime I’d let ya in no trouble. And if you’d like to help out, I could always use an extra pair of hands around harvest time.”

“I’d like to,” Cas replied with a wistful smile. “But I work a lot, a lot of trips out of town. I can’t guarantee I’ll be around.”

“Just if you can.” Lucy said, handing him his brown paper bag. “It’s nice to talk to someone around here who actually cares about the world outside of the one they see.”

Dean would say that the woman was flirting with him, he’d nudge Castiel in the ribs, encouraging him to try some kind of line, but Castiel never would. For one thing, he was pretty sure that Lucy wasn’t interested in relationships of any kind. She’d mentioned this once or twice, laughing about being happily single in the way that suggested it was true, rather than the way people often did, trying to cover their loneliness. For another thing, Castiel wasn’t interested. He liked Lucy, would like to consider her a friend, and he very much enjoyed talking with her when she was at her stall. She set up one most days while the market was on, though earlier in the summer, she had no honey.

He bought the honey mostly for Sam, who liked to spread it on toast in the morning before his run. It was more expensive than the squeezy bottles at the supermarket, but Castiel liked to show support for Lucy. Apiaries were a fine hobby in his opinion, and he would like a hive of his own, but until then, it was nice to support a friend.

Lucy sold other things on her stall too; beeswax candles, some scented with different floral or herbal tones. He’d bought one or two of these. He liked to light them in his room at night, just breathing in their fragrance. Everything was in some way bee-related: pencils and erasers, cheap things that Lucy probably bought in bulk from some warehouse, leftovers from the school trips that she could sell on, but there were also some things clearly lovingly made by hand. Beautifully stitched patches, delicately painted teacups, even a few small framed paintings done in watercolour, lace doilies, t-shirts, a few clay sculptures, some knitted items. There were also some larger prints in varying styles done and donated to her by local artists. She apparently taught weekly classes in the village hall on painting because ‘bees don’t pay the bills’, and attended several other crafts classes, to help her make things for her stall.

The weather was unseasonably warm for October and he’d gotten more cash than he needed at the ATM (he never liked paying with his fake card at the market; it felt disingenuous, like he was stealing) and he was feeling frivolous and this would be the last week of the market until May and the last honey until next year (there were less than five jars left on her stall, the last of her harvest) so he bought more than just the honey. One of the small watercolours caught his eye just after he’d made his purchases and so he bought that too; a bee in beautiful pastel shades of pink, purple and blue. It was in a chunky, plain white plastic frame and very small, the bee itself was about half the length of his middle finger. He would put it on his desk, he decided, right in the middle.

He felt a little bad, spending the Winchester’s money on things that he didn’t strictly need. Dean never complained about him buying food, so the honey wasn’t an issue, but he’d never really bought anything else except with Dean or Sam on a case so he wasn’t sure how they’d react. Perhaps it was only useless things Dean wouldn’t like him buying. If that was the case, then he could just utilise everything. He bought.

Xxx

“Cas?” Dean said, squinting at him through the steam coming off his coffee mug the next morning.

“Hmm?”

“What the hell are you wearing?” Dean’s tone was strange, thick, like he needed to cough.

“Oh,” Castiel said, looking down self-consciously at the black leather biker jacket, faded band t-shirt and worn jeans that could pass as being ripped by design, though they weren’t. “The jeans are yours, I hope that’s alright. I bought the rest at the farmer’s market yesterday.”

His fingers came up to the fabric hem of the shirt. Dean looked confused, and something else too, something soft.

“Why?” He asked.

“I-” Castiel hesitated, looked down again, at the light blue t-shirt with a little cartoon bee on the front, sporting scowl and a pair of crossed arms, a speech bubble that emanated from its mouth said ‘Buzz off’, at the yellow and black striped woollen socks, at the pocket of his jacket, onto which he’d sewn a patch of another brightly coloured cartoon bee, this one was happily leaving a trail of wonky lines in white thread that Castiel had sewn himself to try and make it look like the bee had come out of his pocket. He’d been proud of himself for this small accomplishment, under Dean’s heavy gaze though, his effort suddenly felt stupid and pointless.

“I liked them.” He finished in a very small voice.

A gentle smile split Dean’s face.

“Well okay then,” he said. “I think I’ve got a spare suit jacket you can use when we need to pass off as feds.”

“Can I wear my new tie?” Cas asked eagerly, tugging on the one around his neck and showing it to Dean properly, it was dark blue, similar to his other one, but a slightly different shade and with a very small bee outline stitched on the end in shimmering gold thread.

Dean laughed and took the end of the tie to examine it. “Sure, buddy,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he looked up. “It’s nice. Matches your eyes.”

@winchester-reload

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