he looks like a caveman

love is love

Lukas lounges on the couch and stretches his legs out until his knee cracks. He can still see the rainbow flag across the street billowing out their neighbor’s window and he sighs, smiling to himself.

Spring semester was a breeze compared to their fall semester, though they only had two classes together this time around. Philip takes and develops more photos every day, and he joined a photography club that monopolizes way too much of his time, Lukas decided after twelve hours apart. More and more people have been getting interested in Philip’s work, and someone actually hired him to take pictures of their baby shower. Lukas went with him and after a brief freakout in the hallway, Philip took some of the best pictures Lukas has ever seen him take. They were gorgeous and he got a hundred bucks out of it, but Lukas has still yet to convince him to actually try to start taking freelance pictures for events. But he’s gonna keep trying.

They visited home more and Lukas practiced on his bike when he was in Tivoli, always with Philip pressed up close against his back. It felt strange when they were there, like they were catching a bit of the past and holding it between their fingers—they always have more nightmares when they’re there, but Lukas is grateful they never have to worry about not sleeping in the same bed.

They escaped midterms with all A’s, and finals with A’s and B’s and one B-, thanks to Philip’s chemistry class, and they celebrated finishing their first year of college with Angela, some gourmet New York pizza, and the puppies. Which made Philip want a dog even more. Which made Lukas start thinking really hard about the future.

For now, it’s the beginning of their summer and the beginning of June, which means that Philip is fluttering around the apartment, getting ready for the Pride Parade. He’s been anticipating it ever since he found out it was going right by their apartment, and in the beginning he wasn’t sure if Lukas would go with him. But they’re long past the point of being afraid to ask things like that, and when Philip presented the question Lukas, of course, said he’d be going with him.

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Some heights. 

  • Parvati Patil is teeny tiny, but her wand is the longest in her year.
  • McGonagall is six feet even, and can rock a pair of heeled boots. It makes her fun to watch when she paces while giving lectures. 
  • Goyle has a dreadful slouch during his teen years. He thinks it makes him look cool and tough, like a gangster in his sister’s stolen muggle mags, but really he looks like a caveman. 
  • Bill, Percy, and Ron are all within a half inch of each others heights. Charlie and Ginny come next, Charlie only an inch taller than his sister, and the twins are the shortest.
  • Dudley Dursley grows three inches when he starts working out and turning fat to muscle at 16. Running, sometimes slamming his feet on the school’s treadmill, sometimes mapping the tame forests of Little Whiniging is the only thing that keeps the cool feeling of the Dementor out of his head. 
  • Seamus was taller than Dean by a very proud two inches until third year, when Seamus stayed at 5′3″ but Dean shot up to 6′2″ and never ever let Seamus forget it. 
  • Hermione’s hair adds an inch to her height. 
  • Part of the reason Lucius and Narcissa imagined themselves well suited when courting just after Hogwarts was that for each of them, the other was the ideal height. A three inch difference was perfectly respectable and picturesque for a gorgeous pureblood match such as themselves. 
  • Tom Riddle was 5'10". His resurrected Voldemort body was 6'1.“ This was down to Wormtail’s design, wanting to serve a powerful master. 
  • Ginny is two inches taller than Harry. 
  • Rita Skeeter was amazingly dynamic and light on her feet while wearing six inch heels. If they were a little magically enhanced, well, that was just resourcefulness. 

alys07  asked:

30 please! :D

tourist/knowledgeable local au


Thank you to the ever beautiful mrsbonniemellark for proofreading!


Katniss sighed heavily. She stood in place, watching the subway car fill up with people knowing where they were going, unlike her.

Once again she had chosen the wrong train to get from her friend’s apartment to Times Square. Stalking over to the giant map in the middle of the platform, she stared at the little red dot that said, “you are here”. Her face turned into a downward pucker as she pointed to the train line she wanted and mumbled, “But I was to be here.”

The silence of the space finally sunk in, and she looked around, finding herself alone. Well, expect for the drunk mumbling to himself on the bench a few feet from her. Suddenly she realized just how hot it was down here, and she cursed herself for wearing a sweater. She tried to maneuver it off under her backpack as she climbed the stairs back out of the station, tugging one of her arms that got stuck, freeing it after the third try.

A ripping sound, the flood of people around her all talking at once as she reached the sidewalk, and lastly the sound of a thud met her ears, pain shooting through her hand in synch with the thump.

She stilled. She had hit someone. Turning to the source of the continuous muffled groan, her apology died on her lips when she saw her victim.

He had blonde curly hair, and the longest blonde eyelashes that should be tangling when he blinked. The hands that covered his face and muffled his groans as he leaned against one of the few trees spread sporadically through the cement were large and rough. He pulled his hands away and looked at them, seeing blood.

It took him a moment to process, and in that moment Katniss ignored the smear of blood on his face continuing to pour from his nose, and instead noticed his chiseled jaw line, hanging slack then clenching and - oh he looked at her. His eyes were very blue. An indescribable shade. It reminded her of sparks. He was talking to her - oh. He was talking to her.

“…the hell?!” He was saying.

Katniss shook her head, trying to scatter the distracting thoughts and collect the important ones. “I am so sorry!” she said, bunching her sweater in knots in front of her before offering it to him to hold to his still gushing nose.

He took it gratefully, holding it up, and trying not to wince as he held it in place.

“I didn’t break anything did I?” Katniss asked, stepping so she was right in front of him, rude passersby no longer able to step between them.

The man chuckled. “No, no. I think just my pride.”

Katniss found herself laughing. She bit her lip when he looked up at her again, thinking he was annoyed at the sound, but she saw his eyes twinkle and a slight dimpled grin starting up his face. Pretty soon they were both shaking with a fit of laughter.

“Are you a professional boxer or something?” He asked, pulling the sweater away to check the blood flow before looking back to her.

Katniss stared at the cement, shifting her weight, her hands deep in her pockets. “No, no. Just an angry tourist cursing the subway system for it’s complexities.”

He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, stilling when he realized it had blood on it, wincing. “I probably look like a caveman now,” he joked, smiling when Katniss found another laugh falling unbidden from her lips. “I’m sorry. The subway can be a bitch sometimes. How about we split a cab?”

“Oh no, I can just walk-”

“Come on. My nose has stopped bleeding, and I need to get your sweater cleaned. I’ll drop it by the dry cleaners and then I can take you to my bakery and give you any pastry of your choosing while I explain the subway system to you.”

“But I almost broke your nose,” Katniss said quietly.

“I ruined your sweater. I owe you something,” he grinned.

Fine,” Katniss huffed.

Something in the man’s eyes danced as he looked at her, and she couldn’t help but stare.

“By the way, I’m Peeta,” he said, holding out his hand. “Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss glanced down at his hand before taking it and meeting his eyes when she felt a spark between them. The twinkle in his eyes said he felt it, too. “Katniss,” she shook his hand gently. “Katniss Everdeen.”

There was that grin again before he turned to hail a cab. “So, Katniss Everdeen, do you prefer something sweet or something cheesy?”


“Your pastries. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m good at making pretty much everything.” He glanced at her, biting his tongue to keep from laughing at the challenging look in her eye.

“I don’t mean to brag, but eating delicious things is kind of my forte, so…. We’ll see about that, Mellark.”

“So it’s a duel of the fates, huh?” He teased. “Can my masterpieces step up to your tastebuds….”

“Something like that….” She smiled.

“Frosting. The final defense of the dying,” he mumbled as the cab pulled up, smiling when she laughed behind him.

Send me one of these prompts!

Request: Ricochet

Request: ‘Imagine Dean whispering ‘I love you’ in your ear when he thinks you’re already asleep’. The idea was submitted as an image from @multifandom_imagines on Instagram, so all credit to them!!

Word Count: 1,127

Thank you!! Maybe this one could possibly work with a second part so if you feel like that would be nice, just let me know!! Have an awesome day<33

“Sweetheart, hey, look at me,” Dean grabs hold of your chin, leaving a bloody handprint on your skin as he angles your head up to look at him. He’s blurry, his face wavering in an out of focus, “You’re gonna be just fine, you hear me? It’s just a scratch. Just a scratch.” His own voice betrays him, catching in his throat and revealing the bubbling pool of fear behind the calm, determined mask he’s struggling so hard to keep in place.

“Dean!” Sam yells, somewhere in the background. His voice is vague and echoes in the room… or maybe you’re outside. You don’t know. You can’t see past Dean’s eyes, so close to yours.

“We’re coming! Y/N, keep your eyes open for me. This might sting a little, okay?” He slips one arm around your back and the other beneath your knees, lifting you from the hard ground. He feels a wave of warm blood spill onto him and your cry of pain sends shivers down his spine, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We’re getting you out of here, just stay with me.”

Dean runs over to the car and slides into the back, effortlessly pulling the door closed with his foot, “Drive, Sam. She’s already lost too much blood, I don’t- I don’t know-“

The Impala screeches away from the pavement and onto the road – it’s late enough that the roads are deserted and the road is quiet, so Sam flies through the streets. He’d called the hospital ahead, and knowing that they’ll have a team ready for you, right now, is their only comfort.

“Y/N? Look at me,” Dean begs, clutching you close to him and pressing harder on your side, a small whimper escaping your lips at the pain, “I know, sweetheart, I know. You just gotta hold on, okay?”

You nod minutely, but with every moment the darkness is advancing on you further and keeping your eyes open is becoming more and more difficult with each passing heartbeat. In fact, if you just close them for a few seconds, maybe… maybe it would be easier.

“Y/N? Y/N, no! No! Stay with- shit, Sam, drive!”


The sterile smell invades your nose and even before your eyes are open, you know exactly where you are. You just take a moment, drinking in your surrounding – hunter’s instincts have gifted you with the ability to figure out a lot about a room without much to go on. The room is quiet, apart from the soft beeping of an ECG reader and the gentle whir of the oxygen tank, the tubes of which are draped over your face and fixed into your nose. The air being blown into your lungs tickles your nose a little. You’re lying in a bed, your top half slightly raised and a woollen blanked tucked up to your hips. The hospital gown is cotton and, thankfully, not one of those awful open-backed ones.

There’s a window open, judging by the gentle breeze, and… and there’s someone in the room with you. Not a doctor or a nurse, they’d be moving around. It takes a moment before you recognise the pine and leather scent you’ve only ever been able to describe as Dean. Even more surprisingly, he has your right hand – the one not hooked up to an IV – enclosed in both of his as if it’s a wounded animal he must protect.

You prise open one eye, unprepared for the barrage of white light you’re flooded with. An involuntary groan sounds from somewhere in your throat and you close your eye again, but it’s too late – you’ve caught Dean’s attention.

“Y/N?” He asks, and you feel as he leans down close to you. Every couple of seconds, his warm breath ghosts over your face, “Are you… are you awake?”

“No.” You whisper, unable to do anything but. How long have you been out? A day? Three? More?

He laughs softly, “Shit, Y/N. You scared me there.” He says, squeezing your hand gingerly, “You’ve been out for a week, they didn’t know when you’d wake up.”

“A week?” You force your eye back open and this time, it isn’t so bad, but when you pull the other open too it takes a few blinks for the pulsing pain in your head to wear off.

He nods, “You lost a hell of a lot of blood. They said you shouldn’t even be alive, but you’re too stubborn for that.”

“Damn right.” You smile slightly, earning a laugh.

“Yeah. Sam went to get lunch, it’s about midday. You hungry? He can sneak you a burger in.”

You think about it for a moment, and then shake your head, “I’m good. Thanks. You should go eat, though. And shave. You’re starting to look like a caveman.”

He grins, “There’s my Y/N. I’ll go, but only if you promise to be awake when I get back. Oh, and don’t move, you ended up with 30-something stitches in your side and you don’t want to split them.”

You groan softly, but nod, “I’ll be awake. Maybe there’ll be a hot doctor I can bother.”

Dean chuckles, “See you soon, Y/N.”


He isn’t at all surprised when he and Sam return an hour later to find you sleeping peacefully. The greyish pallor is gone from your face, though, and there’s a small plate on the nightstand with the remains of a sandwich.

“You tell her?” Sam asks softly, and Dean shakes his head. He crosses over to you, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath you take, “Why not? Dean, you can’t-“

“Sammy, just let it go.” Dean replies, his voice tired, “She’s okay. She’ll be fine. She just needs to recover and then… then… I don’t know. If this has proved anything, it’s that she shouldn’t be around us. Me.”

“What are you talking about? She’d have gone in there anyway. You saved her.”

They go back and forth for a little while – little do they know, you’re very much awake and trying desperately to keep your breaths deep and even, so your heart doesn’t betray you and display racing beats on the little screen to your left.

Eventually, Dean sighs, “It’s not like I can do anything now, anyway. It’ll be a few days before they let her out, and even then she’ll be in no fit state for big discussions.” You hear his footsteps as he crosses over to you, and then once again his warm breath on your face.

“See you later, Y/N,” He whispers, “I love you.”

He presses a light kiss to your forehead and then… then he’s gone.  His footsteps, quickly followed by Sam’s, disappear from the room to leave you alone with Dean’s words ricocheting around your mind.

For @toewsaf, who prompted friends-to-lovers & miscommunication.

“Fine,” Kaner says, grinding his teeth as he watches Jonny shoulder up with Laddy on screen. They’re laughing about something, something that Kaner isn’t in on, and Jonny gives some soundbite to the press about how he’s glad to have Ladd back, how it wasn’t the same without him, how he’s a great player.

Jonny never says stuff like that about him to the press. It’s always a smirk and a chirp, never anything close to sincere. Patrick used to think that maybe Jonny just wasn’t capable of it, but the newest Blackhawks TV spot proves that he just won’t do it for Kaner.

For almost a decade, Kaner has been waiting for Jonny to come out of his shell around him. To be more openly affectionate; to grin at him the way he did at Sharpy or does at Panarin and Shaw. Even when the cameras aren’t on them, Jonny wriggles out of the arm Kaner throws around his shoulder or away from the arm rest they share on the airplane.

Kaner’s tired of it, truly. He wants to be able to tell the media things like, Jonny’s the best person he’s ever been on a team with. Or that losing him would basically mean the end of hockey for Patrick, and signing those eight-year contracts together was like breathing fresh air for the first time in years. He wants to be able to tell them Jonny’s pride in him is the reason he gets out to morning skate, or how he’s kept it clean the past couple of years.

He could say all those things, technically, but not without getting that narrowed, scrutinizing look from Jonny afterwards.

Keep reading

Let Bygones Be Bygones (Jongin x OC)

Description: A physician visit, a hair cut, and getting comfortable with each other. Too comfortable.

Genre: Fluff



That’s what Jongin woke up to.

Two voices. One super loud and panicked the other calm and attempting to stay quiet.

The panicked, loud one was SooRi, he knew that well enough.

The other was an unrecognizable deep voice that no doubt belonged to a male.

Jongin kept his eyes shut because he really wasn’t trying to wake up just yet and he still felt pretty terrible.

‘Some tea would be nice,’ he mused in his head.

He tuned his ears in to listen to the conversation that was happening above him. He would have ignored them but honestly, SooRi was so loud that he couldn’t block out her voice if he tried.

“Kyungsoo, I really don’t think he’s okay. He’s been asleep for like thirteen hours straight!”

The man sighed and Jongin could mentally picture someone shaking their head and running a hand down their tired face.

“What time did he go to sleep last night?”

“Like 1:30 a.m. He went straight to sleep after he finished his beer-”

“Wait. What did you just say? SooRi, didn’t you say he was sick and that he took nighttime cold medicine?”

There was a pause and Jongin just knew she was biting her lip.

“Yeah…but I mean it was just one beer! I do it all the time! He’ll be okay right?”

Kyungsoo frowned and looked at the man on the couch. “You’re gonna fuck up this man’s liver. You’re not supposed to mix medicine with any amount of alcohol. Kids even know that, genius.”

“Oh my God! What did I do? He’ll be fine, right? Should I take him to the hospital?”

Kyungsoo rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and knelt down to Jongin’s level. “He’ll be fine. The combination of medicine and beer probably just made him extra sleepy. He’s definitely still sick though,” he said as he felt around Jongin’s throat and upper chest. “Go get me a cold washcloth. Do you have any more cold medicine? Something non-drowsy that he can wash down with, oh I don’t know, water?”

SooRi cringed as he stressed the last word of his sentence. She really didn’t know. Jongin had been asleep for so long and wouldn’t wake up when she called his name, shook him, anything.

“No, he took the last two pills I had last night.”

“Go get the washcloth, okay. He’ll be fine.”

SooRi rushed off and Kyungsoo turned his attention back to Jongin.

“I know you’re awake.”

Jongin cracked an eye open. This Kyungsoo person looked to be about his age, maybe even younger. He had a black bag he was rummaging through before pulling out gloves, a thermometer and a tongue depressor.

The man looked so serious and Jongin was almost intimidated until Kyungsoo gave him a small heart shaped smile.

“I’m Do Kyungsoo. Jongin, right?”


“I’m a friend of SooRi’s. We work together at the hospital,” he explained as he put on his latex gloves and placed his hands on Jongin’s shoulders to help him sit up. “I’m a physician.”

“Oh,” Jongin could barely speak as Kyungsoo quickly took his temperature and took a look at his throat. Jongin didn’t even know the last time he had gone to a doctor.

“You have a bad cold and a sinus infection. Your fever is low, but you should still take it easy. Wouldn’t want to give SooRi another heart attack.”

Jongin nodded, eyes moving to watch as SooRi came back into the room with a wet washcloth. She handed it to Kyungsoo and stepped a few feet away from the couch. She looked so guilty that Jongin wanted to laugh and pull her into a tight hug.

“Thanks. He should be over the cold in a few days but the sinus infection might be a little harder to get rid of,” Kyungsoo said as he placed the cold cloth on Jongin’s forehead.

“You were worried about me?”

“Worried would be an understatement. I had to rush over here before she lost her entire mind.”

SooRi looked at Jongin and frowned. “Jongin, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have offered you a beer in the first place.”

“It’s okay, SooRi, I’m good. Super well rested too,” he chuckled as he watched her face relax.

Kyungsoo packed up his belongings and shook Jongin’s hand. “I’m going to write you some prescriptions for cold medicine and an antibiotic. Take both twice a day with water, please. Nice to meet you.”

Jongin smiled at the man and nodded his head. “Thank you for coming to check me. Sorry if SooRi was being over dramatic.”

Kyungsoo shook his head and smirked, “It’s kinda her thing. I’m used to it now.”

SooRi walked Kyungsoo to the door and sighed. “Thanks so much. I owe you lunch later this week.”

“You bet your sweet ass you do. See you tomorrow,” he said, walking out into the hallway.

“And SooRi?”


“Stop mixing medicine and alcohol.”

SooRi closed the door and turned to see Jongin standing behind her. She still couldn’t quite look him in the eyes yet. She felt guilty, ashamed, embarrassed, and a little shy.

“Uh…I’m gonna run to the pharmacy to drop off your prescriptions. You want anything?”

Jongin followed behind SooRi as she shuffled around the apartment quickly to grab her shoes and purse. “Slow down before you slip and hurt yourself. I can go get it, you’re probably late for work.”

SooRi finally looked at him, brows furrowed. “I don’t have work today. I cancelled my appointments.”

Jongin balked at the woman. Could she do that? Surely she couldn’t just cancel her appointments like that.

“W-What do you mean? Will you get in trouble? I’m sorry-”

He was silenced when SooRi raised her right hand to stop his babbling. She grabbed her keys, shaking her head as she walked towards the front door. “Don’t be sorry, Jongin. I was really worried about you, especially after 1:30 passed. I called the hospital and asked them to move my appointments around. Everything is okay, I won’t get in trouble.”

Jongin smiled and nodded his head, relief taking over his features. “Good. That’s good. Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it. You just rest and I’ll be right back.”

So Jongin rested.

Jongin rested a lot.

Even after SooRi fell back into her work routine, Jongin rested. He still wanted to pull some of his own weight and not look like a complete freeloader, so he would clean, do laundry, and cook to the best of his abilities. His cold and sinus infection had thankfully been easy to get rid of and after another visit from Kyungsoo a week later, Jongin had a clean bill of health.

In the five weeks he had been at SooRi’s, Jongin had ventured out of the apartment a few times. He’d taken Boo to the vet when SooRi was caught up at the hospital, he’d gone to run errands with SooRi, and he’d even gotten to look at a few places for a job.

He hadn’t applied yet, but he knew where to look and that was good enough for now.

It was almost normal. He was slowly getting used to his new, temporary life. SooRi had been extremely helpful to him. She would buy him clothes even after he begged her not to spend excess money on him and bring him snacks she’d picked up on her way home.

It was hard for Jongin not to develop a little crush on SooRi.

She was like his angel.

But he would never admit that to her.

He would scold himself when he stared at her for too long or when he would smile goofily at her antics.

How dare he.

Him of all people. He who was so undeserving of SooRi’s kindness had the audacity to develop feelings, no matter how small, for her beyond thankfulness and gratitude.

In the middle of yet another internal scolding session, SooRi bounced into the living room and plopped down next to Jongin on the couch.

“Whatcha brooding over now, moody moose?”

Jongin relaxed his face and chuckled sheepishly, “Nothing, just lost in thought.”

SooRi nodded and after a few seconds turned so that her body was completely facing Jongin. She looked at his face intently and Jongin couldn’t make himself look away as she neared her face closer to him.

‘What the hell is she doing?’

SooRi squinted her eyes and tilted her head just slightly to the left. “You know what you need, Jongin?”

Jongin swallowed but that did nothing to relieve the knot in his throat. He needed to stay normal in front of SooRi.

But fuck, if she didn’t make it hard.


Jongin’s eyes trailed to her lips and watched as they formed a cheeky smirk.

“A haircut.”

She was right. His hair was in dire need of a trim, the chocolate brown strands falling into his eyes and the back becoming annoyingly long.

“Oh yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s been a while.”

He awkwardly tugged at a particularly long strand and focused on that strand as if it held the key of life. He was kind of embarrassed. If SooRi noticed that he needed a haircut then she had noticed him looking like a modern day caveman for the last few weeks.

And he cared about what SooRi thought of him.

SooRi stretched and stood up from the couch. She had just returned home from work but still had some energy left from her afternoon coffee. She tried to work on stuff in her room but she always found herself seeking Jongin’s company. May be she had been lonelier than she thought. But Jongin was great company; he was funny, relaxing, and could hold a great conversation.

She really liked being around him.


Jongin looked up at SooRi and raised an eyebrow. “Well what?”

SooRi rolled her eyes playfully, “Your haircut! Let’s go, I know a great place not far from here.”

“SooRi, you don’t have to do this.”

As usual, she shooed away any negative comments he had. She wanted to do this for him and she was personally dying to see how he would look with shorter hair.

May be she could convince him to dye it?

“Look, I know you’ve been looking at places to apply for a job and it’ll be hard for you to do your interviews when your potential employers can’t even see your face.”


“Just let me do this one last thing for you, Jongin. Besides, if you land a job and start making good money, I’m making you buy me Chinese food for a week.”

Jongin couldn’t help the bright smile that split his face as he laughed at SooRi. He stood up to join her and they made the quick ten minute journey to the hair salon SooRi had been raving about nonstop.

“What should I do to my hair?”

SooRi looked up from the magazine she was flipping through as they waited. She felt her stomach do a funny flip as her eyes met his.

He wanted her opinion.

He cared about what she thought of him.

She didn’t allow herself time to get too carried away. He was probably only asking because he was indecisive or wanted to pass time until it was his turn with the stylist.

She looked at his hair and his face. His bone structure was good for both long and short hair. But since he would be looking for jobs, shorter would be the best option. But nothing boring. Jongin was far from boring.

“Hm, maybe keep the top long and shave the sides down a little. Not too crazy, just a little bit. I’d say go for something you can style quickly and neatly but also looks good when you don’t want to style it.”

Jongin listened to her closely, brain clinging to every word out of her mouth as she spoke about what she thought would look good on him.

“Yeah, I like that idea. I’ll go with that.”

“That easy, huh?”

Jongin smiled as he looked away from her. “I trust you.”

Watching chunks of his hair hit the shiny floor was a shock at first but as the stylist put the finishing touches on his hair, Jongin couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open at his reflection.

This was really him.

His skin looked brighter since the shadow his hair casted was long gone. His jawline looked more prominent too. He thought he looked handsome.

He turned his eyes to SooRi who hadn’t left his side and cleared his throat. SooRi looked up from her phone and her eyes immediately widened in shock.

He looked so good.

Well, he always looked good. But he looked more mature. His hair was tousled out of his face and SooRi treated herself to looking at his face thoroughly.

“Looks good, Jongin. Really good. Don’t forget about little ol’ me when you go off and start your modelling career.”

Jongin blushed and looked down at his lap as the stylist cackled behind him. “Leave the poor man alone, SooRi! His face is about to burst into flames.”

“Whatever. Thanks, Hoon. You did a great job, as always.”

After paying, the pair made the quick ten minute trip back to SooRi’s apartment. Jongin placed his bag of hair product next to the small pile of his belongings. He wanted to run to the bathroom to look at his hair and try styling it himself but he didn’t want to look foolish.

Not after the constant compliments SooRi had been showering him with.

“Wanna watch a movie? I don’t have to go to the office until noon tomorrow and I’m not really tired yet.”

Jongin turned towards SooRi’s approaching voice. She’d changed into a pair of joggers that were slightly oversized and an old university t-shirt.

Jongin thought that comfortable SooRi was the cutest SooRi.

Just like how he thought work mode SooRi was the coolest SooRi.

And how early morning SooRi was the prettiest SooRi.

And how freshly showered SooRi was the sexiest SooRi.

He thought a lot about her apparently. His thoughts about her were getting out of hand and were plaguing his mind too frequently.

He needed to hurry up, find a job, and get out. Fast.

“Erm, sure. We can watch a movie. Let me go change real quick.”

He was just passing her when she grabbed his arm and turned him to face her.


She got close to his face again like she had earlier. Jongin swore he could hear the blood rushing through his veins and his heart was thumping loudly, too loudly.

“Hoon didn’t clean you up well at all. You still have hair all over your face. Here.”

She stood on her toes as her fingers gently brushed away the tiny hairs on Jongin’s face. He watched her, still as a statue with his mouth tightly sealed.

Why was she doing this? Why was she so close to him.

He could feel her breath against his lips and he caught her hand with his, breaking her concentration. She looked into his eyes.

She hadn’t meant to do it, but she couldn’t help herself. He looked so good and he was so…Jongin.

She kissed him.

She leaned forward too far until her lips were pressed against his own.

But she couldn’t let that feeling last. Almost quickly as she had initiated it, she was determined to end it. 

The intent to completely pull away from him was there. But she could barely open her eyes, she felt Jongin’s warm hand cup her jaw and bring her lips back to his. There was a ringing in her ears, almost deafening. But she couldn’t be distracted by the internal noise.

His lips were too soft.

His tongue glided so smoothly against hers.

His hand wrapped around her waist so securely as he pulled her closer until her chest was pressed against his.

It was like he was possessed. Breathing was becoming difficult and he was getting dizzy, but he wouldn’t pull away. It’s as if her lips would pull him back in like they knew he was about to pull away. He heard a needy sound, almost a moan, but he didn’t know if it had come from him or SooRi and he couldn’t be bothered to ponder on it for too long. Jongin already knew that he craved SooRi but this made him realize he would never satisfy this craving.

He would never be satisfied with SooRi.

He would keep wanting more.

Jongin was almost knocked off of his feet when he felt pressure against his chest. He opened his eyes too look down at SooRi and realized that their mouths were no longer connected. Her eyes were blown out and dark as she looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed and she still had her hands planted on his firm chest. Her lips were bright pink and slightly swollen and she bit down on her lower lip the longer she looked at Jongin.

He groaned as he felt his lower body stiffen.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. There were only two things that they could do from here: continue or walk away.

After another long, quiet minute, Jongin felt his heart crumble as SooRi shook her head and stepped away from him, slowly at first until she nearly tripped over her resting cat. She quickly picked Boo up and ran to her room, slamming her door with a loud bang.

Jongin stood in the same spot, staring forward until he snapped out of the haziness of his lust filled mind. He cursed and threw himself back against the couch. He dreaded what would come in the morning and he felt the familiar sting of tears fill his eyes.

He had fucked it all up.

multifand0mtrash  asked:

I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them ---- Laura tells Stiles she lost her little brother.... HOW THE FUCK DO YOU LOSE A 22 YEAR OLD WEREWOLF WHO LOOKS LIKE A GQ COVER SERIAL KILLERS.... oh yeah, you dont, you are just trying to set him up with a cute guy who's totally his type

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: G, Word Count: 891
Fluff, No Hale Fire, POV Stiles

Read on AO3

‘Hey, Stiles.’

Stiles turns around so fast he feels a little dizzy. When the world stops moving Laura Hale’s grinning face comes into focus.

‘Hey, Laura,’ he says cautiously. It’s not that he doesn’t like her, but when she’s smiling like that it usually means she’s up to something.

‘What a coincidence, me running into you here.’

Stiles squints at her. It doesn’t sound like Laura thinks it’s coincidence. It sounds like this is the opposite of a coincidence, the furthest away from a coincidence this can get, in fact. He glances around for Scott, not wanting to get dragged into one of Laura’s schemes by himself, but his friend is nowhere to be found. He was just here, looking picture frames with him.

‘And lucky, too.’

And he’s in. He can’t help himself. He has to know. ‘Why lucky?’

‘Because now you can help me find Derek,’ Laura says, schooling her expression into something that could easily be mistaken for innocent by people who don’t know her.

‘Can’t you just…’ Stiles gestures at his nose.

‘Too many people around.’

And now Laura is looking lost and sad with her big green eyes. Damnit.

‘Okay, fine,’ Stiles sighs, mostly because he can’t for the life of him figure out what Laura could possibly gain from him helping her find Derek in an IKEA. ‘How did you lose him anyway? He’s huge, like a hunky caveman. Don’t you dare tell him is said that,’ Stiles adds when he sees the glimmer in Laura’s eyes.

‘What happens in IKEA,’ Laura says, miming zipping her lips shut. ‘I don’t know. We were looking at lamps, and then he was gone.’

‘Right, because losing a twenty-two year-old, built like a god, with a face Michelangelo wouldn’t be able to make improvements on, and the presence of a comfy warm blanket, is totally possible. Especially with your superpowers,’ Stiles says as they start walking. He can find Scott later.

‘You’re not a very trusting person, are you?’

‘Not when it comes to you, no. You once tricked me into giving you my ice cream.’

‘That was like ten years ago,’ Laura waves away.

‘And you made me and Cora clean your car, because we thought we were the ones who’d muddied it. And this was two weeks ago.’

‘Did I ever thank you for that, by the way?’

‘No. You did not.’

Laura hums, but doesn’t say anything else. Just rounds the corner into the living room department.

‘Okay, so where do we need to start looking for your GQ model of a bro– Ha. Hi, Derek,’ Stiles squeaks. His face immediately feels like it’s on fire. He stumbles back into Laura, who shoves him forward so he almost falls into Derek.

‘Hey, Stiles,’ Derek says.

Stiles doesn’t move. He barely dares to breathe, because there’s no more than a foot between them and he can smell Derek. It’s a nice smell. He looks up at Derek, and immediately realizes he shouldn’t have done that either, because the look on Derek’s face clearly shows he heard the GQ model comment. There’s something very complicated going on with those eyebrows, part confusion and part something that Stiles isn’t sure how to identify.

‘You like how I look?’ Derek asks.

‘There was also a comment earlier about your presence being like a warm, comfy blanket,’ Laura supplies.

Stiles turns and glares at her.

‘You said you wouldn’t tell him!’

‘No, I said I wouldn’t tell him you thought he looked like a hunky caveman.’ Laura’s grin can only be described as diabolical. ‘Oops. Hey, there’s Scott. I’m gonna go say hi.’

Stiles looks after her as she walks to where his friend who miraculously popped up at that moment. He was probably in on this, Stiles realizes.

‘You find me comfortable?’ Derek asks.

‘Yes?’ Stiles says, turning back to face him. He peeks up from underneath is eyelashes. Derek is looking at him with wonder and happiness, his eyes wide, the tips of his ears a little red. Stiles’ heart is racing, and he’s never felt this brave. ‘And, because of that, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?’

Derek is smiling now, the brightness of it almost blinding Stiles.

‘I would love that.’

‘Good. Awesome. That’s great,’ Stiles grins back. He can’t look away from Derek, and Derek isn’t looking away from him. Stiles is more than happy to stand here forever, staring at Derek’s beautiful smile, in the middle of IKEA, but there’s a tap on his shoulder and a harassed looking woman with three children hanging off her looks at him with pleading eyes.

‘Sorry,’ Stiles says, only now realizing they’re standing in the middle of the path. He grabs Derek’s arm and pulls him in the direction Laura and Scott disappeared into.

When they’re moving along with the stream of people moving through the store, Stiles drops his hand, letting it brush against Derek’s. A warm tingle shoots up his arm.

‘I can’t believe Laura used her evil for good once,’ Stiles says.

‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that,’ Derek snorts. ‘She’s probably gonna make us repaint her house, or redo her garden, or something.’

Stiles looks up at Derek, who is already looking back at him, and shrugs.

‘Worth it.’

Derek links their pinkie fingers. ‘Definitely.’

Watch on jayfatuasian.tumblr.com

So Jay Park is in Taiwan for a bboy competition & showcase…..and he keeps us updated on the state of his body. xD and tongue.

runnin thru his hair and lookin good in the tanktop…

why does he look like a caveman beating himself up….xD….such an interesting way of loosening up his muscles. gotta say, OUCH.

it’s just so….fascinating haha…him hitting his body…. Xd

the way he casually lies on the floor and stretches himself up…..for a moment i thought which old grandpa is lying there xD

the face you make when you’re old and your joints are aching xD

Blaine knows it’s dumb, that nothing’s happening between them, and yet he can’t turn off this stupid jealous part of his brain. ~800 words, G, episode reaction to 5x09 caused by listening to Jealous by Beyoncé 3 times in a row.

Blaine knows he has no right to feel like this. It’s irrational, it’s unhelpful, it’s probably even insulting to Kurt. Because feeling like this, this violent stab in his gut of mine implies that he thinks Kurt would betray him like that. Which he really doesn’t, he doesn’t think Kurt could have an affair, a long term betrayal (Chandler’s so different, he sees that now, even if he’s never really gotten over the sting of it).

Sometimes he has thought, when feeling insecure and allowing in the types of thoughts he’s got very good at hiding, that Kurt would be capable of cheating. Because Kurt does bursts of defiant rage, and Blaine knows the awful truth of how easy it can be, now. Really, though, he doesn’t think he would. Not after everything.

All of which is irrelevant because if Kurt were to cheat on him, or have an affair, or any of it, he sure as hell wouldn’t stick a selfie of it up on instagram. Blaine feels like a caveman when he looks at that - frankly adorable, he knows - picture, and the possessiveness rises. This isn’t him, this is the way douchey guys with entitlement complexes act.

Keep reading

whilhelminaprince  asked:


Rhett thought, when they first, tentatively kissed each other, that the weirdest part would be that it was Link. He thought he’d be able to taste thirty years of friendship, that he’d open his eyes and see that chubby-cheeked kid who helped him walk home after he fell off his bike that one time. He thought they’d pull apart and fall into a pit of nervous laughter that they wouldn’t be able to find their way out of. 

He thought it would be awkward, that Link would be bad at it, that he would be bad at it. 

But none of that was true. Link’s lips were soft and sweet, and all he tasted like was lip balm. They parted, and fell right back into each other, soft groans and whispered promises the only sounds that fell out of them. There was no awkwardness, only a hushed sense of urgency, a silent question of why they waited so long hanging between them. 

He’s glad he was so wrong, because he wants to do it all the time now. He finds himself tugging Link to him more than he should, pressing their mouths together at times they should be focusing on something else entirely. 

He can’t help himself. 

And Link hasn’t complained yet, so he takes his silence as encouragement. 

It’s not until Link skips a few days of shaving, finding the time to be lazy in-between filming schedules, that Rhett gets to the first weird part of all of this. The smooth skin is gone, replaced by harsh stubble, fully and entirely man

He’s ashamed, for all of ten seconds, at how into it he is, at the heat that flares in his belly. Link mentions, later in the day, that he’s gotta shave later, and Rhett snaps a sincere, “Please don’t,” before he can stop himself. 

“What?” Link laughs. “I’m gonna look like a caveman if I don’t.” 

Rhett rubs that back of his neck nervously. “Just– I don’t know, I like it. Should leave it for a few days.” 

Link raises an eyebrow, leans over to kiss Rhett square on the mouth, wet and deep and making him moan thickly. “Maybe, for a couple days. Since you seem to like it so much.”