#croissants tomfoolery

[randomizt]

gigglibg ITS SO FUNHY IDONT KNOW WHY

this is my first time drawing croissant too LMAOAOAOAO

[brittle-doughie]

May I request a Yan! timekeeper x reader?

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS OK- THE READER IS LOOKS ALL MELANCHOLY AND A SWEET TIME LADY BUT THEIR TECHNICALLY THE EMBODIMENT OF HAVOC??? PLEASE I WANT TWO EVIL TIME LADIES TOGETHER:(((

Polar Opposites (Timekeeper Cookie)

Croissant is losing sleep with you guys mucking up the timeline!

While Timekeeper Cookie was a crazy cookie overall, you were more on the reserved side as you spoke with a calm and sweet demeanor.

However, cookies should try their best not to push any buttons when it comes to you. It doesn’t take much before you devolve into the same craziness that Timekeeper has, easily changing things in timelines or altering them on a whim.

Timekeeper loved you all the same, but when you go on the crazy side, her affection for you intensifies as the two of you wreak mischief to the timelines, Croissant has to get the two of you under wraps countless times.

Timekeeper was aggressive when it came to cookies having problems with you, just say the word and she’ll have already erased them. The offending cookies are lucky Timekeeper loves Y/N Cookie enough that she’ll leave Y/N to decide their fate.

You were surprisingly the more feared of the two, many come to expect Timekeeper as constantly crazy, but your calm and kind demeanor masked your insanity well enough that cookies are spooked when they triggered your crazy.

The Time Balance Department is likely always on watch for you two as you’re always seeming to be running off with Timekeeper, causing mischief and tomfoolery that they have to clear up later.

Overall, a sight to behold for you and Timekeeper towards each other, but a nightmare of a duo for everyone else.

[incorrectinfinity]

Words Croissant "Cront" Cookie would definitely say:

Fiddlesticks

Cerfuffle

Hubba baloo

Heck

Scallywag

Foolhardy

Hubris

Tomfoolery

Thing-a-mabob

Doohickey

Dilly dally

Eureka

Hoopla

Doozy

Buffoon

Goofball

Rigmarole

Snazzy

And so many more!

[docholligay]

SAILOR MOON TOMORROW

Episode 97! Michiru Kiaoh bullies a teenager at a public pool!

Also, there were many many amazing answers to my croissant offer, I expected nothing but oh my god I got so much back. I was delighted! Some of you helped me in the kitchen or gave me coffee, and one of you promised me duck bacon, but I have to highlight this one:

I graciously accept the croissant as it has been a day too many since I’d last feasted upon this delightfully and delicately layered pastry. When held in hand, a memory arises with aim to put me a pitiful liar. For lo, I’d had one nay but the day before. More than one in fact. It had been a store bought bag with depictions of the dear crisp, tender, and flaky pastry turned mini and numerous. Altogether a small gathering and filled with a dollop of vanilla cream to tease and tantalize and leave you wanting. A memory that understandably my addled mind sought to erase, ironing the fold it occupied to make ready for a new memory of worth. As the croissants, truly in name only, were but dried husks, half stale yet somehow malleable enough to chew. Maybe that was the lack of any and all substance from the hollow chambers of its excessively bready interior. Layers? What layers. The bay itself was the only layer it possessed. Serving as a fictitious front to hide its shame. Now I stare down the croissant gifted to me, held betwixt mine fingers as there is no packaging to admire or be dubious of. I should perhaps question this but I don’t because I know the source and trust their integrity. Alas, the reality hits. There is no croissant, within my vacant palm is the illusion created from a digitally delivered promise of this baked good. Ah, no, I was mistaken yet again. The offer was made but the details never specified, I was the fool who’d assumed it could be anything more than a thought prospect. No matter, it can still be a gift, as the offer still served to remind of what I truly sought, an honest work of a food artisan. This was it; this was my sign to cease my tomfoolery and stop settling for manufactured lies and instead seek the truth and let myself honestly live. Thank you. -- I need you to know that this INCREDIBLE tale that could be summed up as ‘thanks, I had a really shitty croissant yesterday and I should have known better’ brought me UNTOLD joy.

[soulmatesagas]

Peering into Betrayal: Jack & Lily's Secret in Paris

Hello, my dear virtual voyeurs! It’s me, your favorite purveyor of peep-show prose. Prepare yourselves for a tale that’s as juicy as a ripe Camembert left basking in the midday sun—a tale of amour, Paris, and peeping Tomfoolery, all rolled into a croissant of comedy. Let me set the scene: We’re in the beating heart of romanticism—the city of lights, love letters, and la lingerie—Paris, France. As…

[eliecasa]

warnings: suggestive innuendos, rlly stupid. And I just now saw the formatting for mobile looks clustered so I’m really sorry for that:(

summary: reader has a secret that gaz definitely already knew but… nevertheless, he’s happy with it

wrdcnt: 1K

“Please, do it for me?” The man ahead of you can only roll his eyes as you once again begged him to do the most pointless thing anyone could imagine. A couple of bystanders walk past as Kyle leaned back in his seat, staring you down as he cleaned the crumbs from his fingers with a napkin.

Shamelessly, your eyes stay glued to his lips as a small smile of contentment stretched across your face. He runs his tongue over them before speaking, voice pitched and wary.

‎‏‏‎

“Why do you insist on asking me to say things?”

‎‏‏‎

‎‏‏‎

Admittedly, for years and years, you’d always find a new phrase that you wanted to hear from this particular British man in front of you. It isn’t every day that you could hear a suave “Chewsday” or “Bloody hell” from anyone in the state where you lived but luckily, you had a very handsome friend that was able to come back every now and then.

‎‏‏‎

“Your accent is nice, don’t you want to show off?” He scrutinized your form as you leaned forward, subtly trying to coax him into becoming an airhead just so that you could get what you wanted. There were a couple of beats of silence before his lip began to lift, taking your pinning gaze along with it until he dared you closer by settling his forearms on the table.

‎‏‏‎

“You’ve got a voice kink or something?” It’s hard to feign coolness and the obvious way you bristled for a moment had nearly blown your cover. Whoever has given up your secret was going to pay.

‎‏‏‎

Your rebuttal rolls off of your tongue faster than lightning as Kyle began to laugh at your stiffness. “Who the hell told you such… tomfoolery?” He cringes at your attempt at old English but still shrugged in conceited victory. “I realized a thing or two when you started calling me at midnight just to hear me talk about dumb shit”

‎‏‏‎

Of course, you have no choice but to back down and roll your eyes as you sat back in your seat. There’s a moment of consideration as you stared into the swirl in your coffee. You could say that wasn’t true and maybe even tackle him once you left the restaurant but he knew you all too well to even attempt deception.

‎‏‏‎

So instead, you meekly meet his eyes again whilst making an overly smug expression. “Shoot me for having a thing for brits”

‎‏‏‎

The two say nothing for a couple of slow moments until Kyle wholeheartedly smiles and stretches, groaning as he does. “I knew you were using me… do you ever go further with it?”

‎‏‏‎

“Further?” you quirk, daring him to even began to say what you believed he was getting at.

‎‏‏‎

“You know what I mean”

‎‏‏‎

That plan to tackle him seems like it's going to happen a lot sooner as your hand palms the soft cushion beneath you. Kyle makes a little face of surprise as you tongued your cheek. “Wow you really are a freak” and he says this loud enough to make a table of girls look at you with a winded expression.

‎‏‏‎

“Gaz!” you cry, watching as he went to go throw his croissant container away. He doesn’t even spare as much as a glance as you warily watch your surroundings, accidentally making eye contact with the confused women sitting a couple of feet away from your booth. Three of them flinch away and pretend to busy themselves with breakfast while one slowly held your gaze until she was fully turned in her seat.

‎‏‏‎

They’re never going to forget that.

‎‏‏‎

Your shoulders slouch in embarrassment as you turned back to the empty chair in front of you. To be honest, he won this time. He won and he’s always known. Dramatically, the breakfast sandwich that you’d eaten started to swim and swing in your abdomen as your mind began to drift and imagine what things would be like from now on.

‎‏‏‎

Kyle never made things weird and you know what type of guy he is but that small doubt in your mind was starting to drive you into a frenzy. Maybe he’d start watching you closely, trying to figure out what exact phrases to avoid accidentally making you blush with. Just the thought of him avoiding it almost made your feet run straight out of this café.

‎‏‏‎

But he’s back before you can even sit up to run.

‎‏‏‎

‎‏‏‎

“Ah don’t be embarrassed, Dear. Be yourself with me” You glare at the blinding smile despite the way a solar flare bloomed across your face at the sight of it.

‎‏‏‎

“Shut it” you kick his leg from beneath the table which causes him to let out a halfhearted ouch, which he probably only did to make you feel better. “This never happened… okay?” you make an ‘i see you’ motion with your fingers as he raises his hands and followed you out of the shop.

‎‏‏‎

And he legitimately doesn’t say anything for a while. Your shoulders fell and your gaze relaxed as you walked down the street with Gaz next to you. “What’s that stupid smirk about?”

‎‏‏‎

He raised an eyebrow at you as he looked you up and down. “You telling me you wouldn’t be a little cocky if someone had a kink primarily for you?”

‎‏‏‎

“Gaz” you stop walking.

‎‏‏‎

“What?” he once again threw his hands up as he broke out into a chuckle. You don’t miss the way he ducks a little as your hand balled into a fist. Even someone like him feared what those iron hands of yours could do when you’re angry.

‎‏‏‎

“Either you say what I wanted to hear or you drop it”

‎‏‏‎

Amused, his eyes flutter as he stood to his full height. “As you wish” and he clears his throat, even hitting his chest a little bit before he speaks, locking those brown eyes with yours.

‎‏‏‎

‎‏‏‎

‎‏‏‎

“Ghetto Party”

‎‏‏‎

And you beam like a total idiot, pointing at him in jealousy as you turned on your heel.

‎‏‏‎

“Ugh… that shit is so cool you lucky bastard”

Either you get it or you don’t. You really have to hear them say ghetto party :)

[the-wereraven]

Here is a random thought from me:

Croissant getting sent 5-10 years in the past by Timekeeper because Timekeeper just wanna do a bit of trolling and tomfoolery

They would tbh-

[smittenroses]

Now that I know you wrote for Timekeeper!! Could I get either a fic or headcanons of Timekeeper with an s/o who likes causing trouble but in the most childish ways? Like pranks n stuff, i hope this makes sense <:)

Timekeeper with a trickster! S/O

A/N: I decided to change it from childish to trickster since it's what fits the idea a bit more, however the s/o shall still be childish ;p I shall use both she/her and they/them for Timekeeper due to the fact that timekeeper themselves is an alternate timeline version of Croissant Cookie

Timekeeper wasn't a mean person, though she ran the Time Balance department and everything associated with it, they weren't trying to be mean. This caused for many others to try and keep their distance even when they made themselves shown (much to the frustration of the president themself).

But yet when they were one day met with streamers and balloons the moment she stepped out of a time rift to play around with a timeline, she knew that she was practically hooked.

someone else that also had fun playing with others in terms of tricks and tomfoolery? Those were the type of people that Timekeeper enjoyed being around with well besides Croissant and GingerBrave

In fact, this trickster was one of the only people that Timekeeper would constantly come back to no matter the time period - after all, she was smitten.

However, some things were never meant to be, and Timekeeper knew it; you would grow old, she would stay forever young due to the influence of the timerifts keeping her from aging. However, despite being able to invite you to spend eternity in the rifts... Timekeeper could not see you lose to the despair that the rifts gave.

Over many timelines, over many eons, Timekeeper would find the trickster all over again and fall in love all over again.

However... there was always going to be one used party popper that sat by their heart - after all, you cannot ever replace the first.

"Hello, my name is Timekeeper; I've heard from others that your jokes are marvellous!"

[chartreuxcatz]

Croissant: “Twizzly Gummy Cookie! You’re under arrest on 2 counts of Time Shenanigans, 5 counts of Tomfoolery, and for causing a whole lotta Hoopla!”

[lunamaxwritesitall]

Luna’s Maniacal May Project Report—The Prompts

Once I can navigate around the plethora of glitches Tumblr has been experiencing of late, I will link to the kind folks who created and shared May event prompt lists so that dorks like myself could use them for their tomfoolery.

Until then, these reports are comprised of nothing but anecdotes and hearsay, friends.

Forty-three. (43).

That’s how many prompts I wound up with once all the scattered index cards were gathered up and straightened out.

Forty-three writing prompts. Created from at least four separate prompt lists.

This is either my best idea ever, or the thing that finally does me in.

Without further ado. . .

The List, (in no particular order):

Witch/Swamp/Rest

Race/Piano/Seasons/Pear-fect (perfect)

Comedy/Slime/Eggstra (extra)/ Qualitea (quality) Time

Vampire AU/“You don’t believe in ___? But you’re a MERMAID!”

Seashells-Fossils-Pretty Stones/Balcony/Apple of my Pie (eye)

Cat Model/Exploration/Truth or Dare

Chat Being a Cat/“Man overboard!”

Lost/Glow/Pick-up Limes (lines)

Found/Purrcrastination (procrastination)

Kissing Practice/Picnic

Vampire/Furmidable (formidable)

Robot/Cosplay

Discovery/Lucky Charm Bracelet

Long Distance/New Horizons/Basking

Ice/Guardian/Mirror/Olive You (I Love You)

Meet the Parents/Pin Pals (pen pals)

Meowvelous (marvelous)/Wings/“DROP THE PELICAN!”

Salty/Merperson/Pirates

Pokémon AU/Otterly (Utterly) Ridiculous

Hunter/Reunion/Ghost

Disguise/I Loaf (Love or Loathe) You

A New Kind of Magic/At the End of the World

Confession/Muffin (Nothing) Can Compare

Hierarchy/Were-creature/Sew (So) What?

Daydream/Under the Water

Hooked/Lightning/Taco-bout (Talk About) It

Ocean/Treasure/Reveal

Fae/Bait/Hunting/Rescue

Partners/Deep/Teeth/Cuddles

Lurking/Forest/Movie Date/ Offishial (Official)

Sentibeing/Doughn’t (Don’t)/Appeeling (Appealing)

Incognito/Inseinely (Insanely) Happy/Tailented (Talented)

Scientist/Roses/ Nothing Toulouse (to Lose)

Chat Blanc/Transform/Painful (pain = bread)/Take a Whisk (Risk)

Punnrequited/Fire/Gift/“What’s a ___? Is ___ real?”

Differences/Lines in the Sand/Pawsome (Awesome)

Exotic/Croissants/Hissterical (hysterical)

Swarm/Multimouse/Ketching Up (Catching Up)

Seen/Reflections/Invisible/Mewsic (Music)

Dreaming/Swim Away Slowly/I Fell (Eiffel) Tower

Web/Catalyst

Undead/Fan/Brewtiful (Beautiful)

Pantheon-Mythology AU/Shadow/“Princess”

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Could I perhaps persuade you into sharing something more from your wips 👀 cause I would like to see it.

They're always hilarious, such a fun read 💖

Okay alright okay alright you’re getting:

That’s an After-Breakfast-Problem: How Danma Takeru Accidentally Got a Cat

Warnings: drunkenness, drug mentions, a teensy bit of sexuality thrown in there, absolute tomfoolery

Rating: PG-13

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

It’s half-past three in the morning when Takeru stumbles through his apartment door. He’s sober enough to remember to lock it behind him, but drunk enough to trip over his own two feet and faceplant onto the hardwood floor.

“Whyyyyyyy,” he whines, head aching from impact...and definitely not the extra B-52 shot the flirty bartender gave him on the way out.

Rolling over onto his back is a Herculean effort, and he makes sure to moan and groan the entire time—just in case anyone thought he was having an easy go of it. His boots (the extra cool ones, red with the buckles on the sides) are lazily kicked off, landing somewhere by the door with two loud, hollow thuds.

Takeru has slipped halfway into sleep when he realizes that it’s really, really hot in here. Like, ‘hair-sticking-to-his-forehead-and-shirt-plastered-to-his-back’ hot. Like, ‘Satan-called-and-he-wants-his-space-heater-back’ hot. Like, ‘that-scene-in-Pretty-Woman-with-the-piano’ hot.

Hot enough that Takeru tugs the leopard-print shirt over his head and tosses it across the room, not caring that it lands in a wrinkle-inducing lump on the kitchen floor.

“Still too fucking hot,” he says with a scowl, hands now working to shimmy his leather pants down his hips. Was leather in August a good idea? No. But did his ass look incredible the entire night? Yes, yes it did, and that’s what really matters.

Left only in his underwear and socks, Takeru has started to feel somewhat better. So much better, he is able to pick himself up off the floor and drag his legs to the kitchen sink to slam back a glass of water. And then another one. And he realizes that he’s probably going to wake up like three times to take a piss in the middle of the night, but that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make to feel the cool caress of liquid at the back of his throat.

It’s on a whim that Takeru opens the kitchen window—barely more than a crack, just enough to let in a bit of summer breeze—before trudging his way to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother changing into his pajamas, he doesn’t bother brushing his teeth, he doesn’t even take the time to moisturize—he simply flops onto the bed and lets sleep take him, fuzzy-brained and covered in drying sweat.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Takeru starts off the next morning the same way he always does: regretful. His phone reads 8:23, which means he slept nearly four-and-a-half hours—which for him, qualifies as a full night of sleep. Despite the water he gulped down the night before, he’s still managed to earn himself a bit of a hangover; and while it’s not unexpected per se, he’s not pleased about it, either.

Well, there are few things better for a hangover than a hot shower, and Takeru indulges in turning the water temperature to near-scalding. After shaving and brushing his teeth, he feels like he might actually be able to survive the morning—provided he have a cup (or four) of coffee to help him along the way.

And it’s when he’s a quarter of the way into his first mug of dark roast that he considers the clothes so pitifully strewn across the floor—unfortunately, left there by his own hand instead that of an eager lover—and sighs. The pants will be fine, but the shirt? That’ll need dry cleaned for sure. And there’s a weird-looking stain on the one sleeve...

And then it moves. The shirt, balled up and left previously inanimate, is wiggling. Takeru jumps, sloshing a splash of coffee onto his foot and wincing at the burn.

Haunted shirt, haunted shirt, haunted shirt, his mind screams as he stumbles backwards, until he’s pressed flat against the refrigerator. If he was less terrified, he’d commend the spirit on its impeccable taste in sartorial matters, but right now? Right now, though, he’s dialing Aguni’s number in a panic.

“Please tell me I did drugs last night,” Takeru begs the second he hears Aguni pick up, “I’ve gotta be tripping balls right now.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Mori-chan, this is serious! My shirt,” Takeru whispers, “is moving!”

“Are you wearing the shirt? Because if you’re moving, the shirt’s gonna move too.”

“No,” Takeru snaps, “it’s the shirt I left on the floor last night. Oh, fuck, it just did it again!”

“Did what?”

“It moved, Mori-chan, keep up!” Takeru runs a shaky hand through his hair, “Fuck, man, this is not good...”

“Do you need me to come over?”

In that moment, Takeru feels his eyes well up in tears—in one eye, those tears belong to fear, and in the other, they belong to sentiment. What a beautiful thing it is to be loved by friends!

“I don’t want to trouble you—“

“Yes you do. Troubling me is your favorite hobby. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Relief washes over Takeru—for a handful of seconds, until he notices that his shirt is now apparently breathing.

“Just...try not to do anything stupid until I get there, okay?”

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Aguni stands in front of Takeru’s door and sighs. The twenty minutes he had promised his friend over the phone had doubled—partly because the line at the donut shop had been particularly long, and partly because he had taken his time, dreading whatever mess he was going to find.

Balancing the paper bag of food in one arm and unlocking the door with the other, Aguni takes a deep breath and steels himself for the worst.

“I brought breakfast,” he calls out, kicking off his shoes, “got a croissant for the haunted shirt, in case it wants something.”

“Great news!” Takeru shouts, “Shirt’s not haunted, I’m not high, and I’m a dad now!”

Aguni’s head snaps up.

“Excuse me?”

And he sees Takeru, sitting with his elbows on the kitchen table, holding his head in his hands like a love-struck schoolgirl. In front of him is...well, it’s probably a cat, lapping milk from a saucer.

It’s important to note that this...thing looks like an absolute mess. A scraggly little lump of brown and black fur—matted and tangled and patchy and just generally sad-looking—with a missing eye and half a tail.

At least it’s not an actual child, Aguni thinks to himself, dropping the bag of donuts on the table and taking a seat opposite Takeru. The cat-like shape looks up at him and blinks.

“Mori-chan, this is Ziggy,” Takeru says, petting his index finger along the cat-thing’s head, “Ziggy, this is your Uncle Mori.”

“I’m gonna be real with you with you, Takeru,” Aguni says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a chocolate-iced ring, “I was sure you were hallucinating when we spoke on the phone.”

Ziggy purrs and rubs his nose along Takeru’s hand before dipping his head back down to the saucer and settling back into his meal.

“I know, right?” Takeru leans over the feasting little feline and grabs a jelly-filled pastry from the bag, careful not to get powdered sugar on his new friend, “But, apparently, this little guy snuck in through the window last night and thought my shirt would make the perfect bed. He blended right into the fabric, and that’s why I thought my shirt was haunted!”

Frankly, it’s embarrassing to witness Takeru turn his attention to Ziggy and start cooing about how “fashionable” and “brilliant” this weird little cat is. And it’s especially weird when he hears Takeru refer to himself as “daddy” in a non-sexual context, which...well, maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing?

“Sounds like you’re keeping him,” Aguni says with a chuckle. They make quite a pair, but he’s beginning to think that Ziggy would be good for his eccentric best friend. Something to come home to at night, something to care for...something to cough up hairballs onto his shoes and keep him humble.

“How can you say that,” Takeru chides, “when Fate has clearly brought us together for a reason? He is my son, and nothing will come between me and my son!”

“Except a bath, hopefully,” Aguni says, “he’s looking a little...rough.”

In a worrying display of language comprehension, Ziggy looks Aguni in the eye and lets out a pathetic little yelp, which sounds like someone squeezed a dog toy that is also a four-pack-a-day smoker. Even Aguni can’t help but smile a little at that.

“That’s an ‘After-Breakfast-Takeru Problem,’” Takeru says, merrily munching on his pastry.

I imagine we’re going to have a lot of those, Aguni thinks to himself, but...well. That’s an ‘After-Breakfast-Aguni Problem.’

[fuwafuwamedb]

Kishi Nami Services Pt 6 (Gilgamesh, Hakuno)

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

___

This morning was hard. Hakuno could feel her head pounding, her stomach grumbling with the need for something to be offered. She could feel a heaviness in her body, as though the whole night for resting had been wasted and her body’s energy was spent.

However, she had only so long before the light would burn across her bed, the morning sunlight telling her that it was time to put up or simply grumble and curl up tighter in bed.

With this in mind, Hakuno opened her eyes.

What met her gaze was darkness.

A blissful dark room met her gaze, with a couple of opaque glass windows around the door that trickled water down to a couple basins below. She could hear the water babbling now, only because she was waking up enough to notice it. The furniture was simple, a large armoire with fine carving that matched the bed posts. A couple nightstands of the same color stood on either side of the bed as she sat up slowly. The lamps looked like they’d been handmade, shaped in the form of large pillars with what looked to be some kind of cat prowling around the base of the thing.

The ceiling was a mass of greenery, leaving her to frown as she climbed out of bed.

And then she noticed it: she was in a large black button up.

The sleeves covered her arms entirely. The shirt’s buttons were done up all the way to the top, but it still slipped a little over one shoulder. Her dress had been removed, as had her bra.

Hakuno grabbed the fur blanket from the foot of the bed, wrapping it around herself as she forced her headache to take a backburner.

She looked around, not finding her dress or her phone.

There was little choice but to leave the room and search elsewhere.

Hakuno hurried to the door without the fountains first, opening it up and flicking the switch only to end up pausing.

A vast array of colors met her gaze. Only the richest of colors like golds and crimsons, navy blues and lush greens. She could see so many animal prints amongst the rows of clothing, leading all the way back to the treasure trove in the back.

Golden and silver jewelry lay in the back, lined from the chest upwards and above row after row of fine leather shoes and boots. There were more things in this room than a clothing store. They were far more illustrious than anything she’d ever seen at the finer end shopping stores she’d seen in her life. The room looked like she’d stepped into excess wealth.

Gilgamesh.

The moment she saw the outfit on the chair in the room, she remembered it well.

Gilgamesh had worn those jeans and that jacket last night. She remembered wearing the jacket when he’d helped her out.

She clicked the light off and went to the other door.

Why was she in one of his shirts? What was she doing in his home? This had to be his home too. It was far too rich blood for her taste. She’d never seen anyone have such an exotic home and, now that she was looking around, it reminded her a bit of his work environment.

On the other side of the other door, she found him.

The man had his hair brushed out and in a tussled mess around his forehead and head. Instead of slicked back, it looked more like he’d crawled out of bed and went to work.

“Good morning.”

The man looked up, his hand halfway through brushing at his bangs when he saw her. The small smirk had her hesitating, her arms wrapped around herself a little.

She stopped in place, waiting.

“We’re almost to lunch time, but I suppose that never matters when you’ve drunk enough.” Gilgamesh moved to stand up, walking over and herding her towards his table. “I’m assuming your head hurts?”

“Terribly.”

“I’ll grab you some medicine.”

She grabbed him as he began to walk towards his room. “Can you grab my dress too? I should get dressed.”

“I’ll find you some boxers of mine for the time being. Your dress is still at the cleaner’s this morning.” He nudged her towards the table again before he went into another doorway, leaving her to stand or sit.

It wasn’t much of a choice. She settled into one of the tall seats and looked around at the room.

There were more plants around the ceilings here, being watered carefully by a series of small pipes that went alongside the dark beams on the ceiling. The room was rather earthly in colors and furnishings. If it wasn’t wood, it was marble or metal, the hues more crimsons and dark blues accenting beige walls or dark woods.

It felt like being amongst a nature preserve more than being in a house.

The tall ceilings did wonders to add to that feeling.

“Enjoying the view?”

Hakuno glanced over to the man nearby, watching him approach and hand her the boxers and pill bottle.

“The place was more designed by Enkidu, but it is comfortable enough. You won’t find a place nicer.”

“I’ll agree about that.” She could agree much better with a couple pills downed and the boxers shimmied on. “Do you know how long it’ll take for my dress to get back?”

“About an hour or two.”

“Oh.”

Damn.

If that was the case, then she would just have to wait. It was a little much to be in a state of disarray with a client. Even worse to be in a state of disarray and at the client’s house in his-

“…Gilgamesh? Did you help me into this?”

“Do you find it difficult to believe that I couldn’t help you out of a dress and into a large shirt without looking?” He settled back into his seat, those red eyes watching her carefully.

She coughed slightly, “thank you for the help. I don’t normally drink so much.”

“You enjoyed yourself. Never apologize for taking pleasure in good company and an evening. You should do it more often. Rather than your careful plans and distancing behaviors that you normally armor yourself with, it was rather amusing to have your honesty with yourself and me.”

“My honesty? I’ve been honest this whole time.”

The man simply smirked a little more, moving one of the plates of croissants at the center of the table towards her.

“Gilgamesh-“

“You need to eat and hydrate. You can find yourself something to drink in the fridge.”

“I should go home,” Hakuno argued.

“In my clothes?”

She winced, opting to change the subject. “You said in the fridge?”

“The left side,” he told her simply, resuming his work. “I’m sure you’ll want to discuss your thoughts of my date while eating as well. I’ve taken the liberty of jotting down my qualms with the woman from last night.”

How convenient.

This would actually be a good opportunity. She could garner more insight from his words, maybe tease out any desires he had in a spouse by looking at the qualities he had admired and not admired in Artoria. She pulled out one of the small bottles of juice, opening it quickly before she hurried to the table to look at his handiwork.

Her eyes froze on the text.

“This just says, ‘everything’.”

“She was rather poor quality, but the looks were admirable enough. I suppose even peasants can hold some redeeming quality. Lotteries exist even in nature. So charitable.”

The man smiled as he leaned back from his work, watching her stand there.

“Now, my next woman would be one I would prefer to see with more amusing qualities. Perhaps a bit more flexibility towards situations that arise. I’m thinking a bit less tomfoolery and a little more propriety towards whom they are with. Think someone who suits my side better.”

The man was asking for someone like him?

Hakuno hummed for a moment, sipping at her juice and nibbling on a croissant as she pondered his words.

There was Ishtar…

Ishtar would suit him very well. She’d love the riches in his house.  

“I’ll make arrangements this afternoon,” Hakuno told him. “Would this upcoming Friday work?” 

“I’ll have Siduri ensure it does.” The man laughed. “To think you’d see my way so easily, Hakuno. I am nothing if not surprised at your skilled mindset.”

“I have a talent for my work.”

The strange glint in his eyes made her chest feel warm, but maybe it was just the fresh croissants. 

Yes, it was probably just the food and the hangover. Nothing more.

When she left, she’d get Ishtar prepped for the date.

[bruciewayne]

bright pink post-its

stevetony, 1k, fluff, secret admirer

-

When Steve comes into work on Monday morning, Bucky’s at his desk, feet up on top of rough sketches and vague briefs. And making his way through a box of Guylian Seashells.

“Those were for me, weren’t they?”

Bucky, ever generous, tosses him one of the chocolates, “Yuh huh.”

“Then why are half of them in your mouth?” Steve pokes him as he sets down his bag. He would just push him, but in an area with lots of expensive computers and tablets, not even a full week since HR’s mandated ‘appropriate workplace behaviour’ seminar? It would be one of his most ill-advised actions in StarkStudios (and that’s including the one time he accidentally, almost, deleted the all the final character designs for a game during his internship all those years ago. (It had been a week from launch, his first one, so, naturally, the CEO had been walking around and making sure everything was running smoothly. (That had been the first time he met Pepper Potts.)) (In his defence, Tony Stark had been running around, probably more stressed than all of them, and there was just something about an attractive, genius, billionaire, who also happened to be his boss, that made fresh-out-of-college-Steve absolutely and utterly terrified, and a terrified artist is a terrible artist.))

But maybe the warning would be worth it.

“Finders keepers!” Bucky replies gleefully, “But also because you have a note.”

“Again?”

“Are you gonna act surprised every time?”

Steve rolls his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to find the bright pink post-it stuck on the lid.

Because I admire you, and you deserve it, and you work too hard, your secret admirer

Unfortunately for Bucky, this note, and all the ones from earlier in the week, was typed so he couldn’t go on a handwriting analysis spree.

Steve feels his face heat up and his prayers that Bucky doesn’t notice go ignored as Bucky jeers good-naturedly and slaps him on the back as he gets up, and of course this commotion means everyone in their department just has to come to look (Clint, the absolute bastard, nevermind how good he is at debugging, is already filming. Steve’s just about ecstatic to see it on his story later.).

“Secret admirer strikes again?” Natasha asks, stealing a chocolate.

Steve just nods, but Bucky launches into a spiel about how disappointed he is in the admirer, “I mean, the first note rhymed right? And it was a cute poem, but now…”

“The first note was just a heart,” Steve says, correcting him without thinking and pulls open one of his desk drawers to reveal a stack of neon-pink post-its, flicks through the pile to the oldest, and shows him proudly: a sharpie heart. On that day, his ‘secret admirer’ had left him a croissant from the bakery down the street.

Bucky looks at him incredulously, which is absurd, really, considering the amount of times he’s wrong. “You kept them!?”

Steve can’t hide the flush that floods his face, ears, and disappears long below his collar.

Bucky groans, “Oh my god, you don’t even know the name of this person and you’re whipped.”

“Go back to work,” Steve grumbles, pushing him out of his corner of the bullpen.

The next day, there’s a single red rose in a tall glass, bright pink post-it accompanying it atop new briefs for the day, wishing him a good day. This time, Bucky doesn’t even poke fun, not verbally, but he does give him a Look.

“You know who it is?” Clint asks, during their lunch break.

“Who?”

Clint also gives him a look, eerily similar to Bucky, “Clueless is a better look on Scott.”

“If they wanted me to know, they would sign their name,” Steve says, simply.

Clint mimics him under his breath, as he takes a bite of his hot pocket, and immediate burns his mouth and consequently knocks over his coffee, probably burning his foot in the process. Steve just sighs and switches the ‘Days Since Tomfoolery’ sign to zero.

It takes almost a week and a half for Natasha to approach him about it. In all honesty, it had scared him a little, how little she’d commented on it before.

“I know who it is,” she tells him, stealing a carrot stick as she leans against his desk. 

“Oh, do tell,” Steve says, putting down his tablet pen and resting his head on his chin.

“Tony Stark.”

Steve just raises his eyebrows, “Head of the entire fucking company, Romanoff, you’re getting slow.”

“What other rich person do you know that prints post-its?” Natasha points out. “And you’re the only one he calls by their first name.”

“That’s because I’m a department manager.”

“Mmm hmm, whatever you say,” Natasha says, walking away.

Steve’s the last one left on the floor, long after the sun has set, and the cleaners have made their rounds, just trying to get in the final details of one of the characters, eyes practically screaming at him, when someone comes up to him from behind and drops a pink post-it on top of his tablet, this time handwritten in sharp capitals.

Come home with me?

Steve’s smiling before he even sees him. 

“Come home?” Tony asks, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans into the touch, comforted by it.

“With you?” Always.”

Tony laughs lightly, dropping into Steve’s lap to kiss him, “God, you’re so cheesy.”

“You’ve-- mmm --given me love notes for two weeks,” Steve counters, pulling him closer.

“You kept them,” Tony says, in between kisses, winding his hands through Steve’s hair - he’s due for a cut, but Tony’s not going to be the one to push him for one.

“You declared your love for me in public,” Steve says, softly, smiling as he kisses Tony’s cheek sweetly, a contrast to before.

“Hardly,” Tony disputes, bitterness and shame polluting his voice.

“More than enough,” Steve corrects, cupping his face.

“You do deserve better, better than that.”

Maybe that, something so deeply ingrained into Tony, it’s almost on par with loving Steve, is true, maybe it's so absurd, as foreign as not loving Tony, that it is, in fact, the opposite that is an indisputable fact, maybe they move past it, when rings are exchanged and vows are spoken, or maybe they ever do, and the most intense, incredible relationship they’ve had stays entirely obscured to anyone but themselves, but there’s no scenario, not from now, where he is living a life without him, and it should terrify him to his core, and it would, if he didn’t, contradictingly, know with full confidence and absolute certainty, that he felt the same way.

happy steve bingo 

[1-800-seo]

domestic dad!kook

hi everyone I thought I’d post my crap here so here is my domestic dad!kook Drabble list thing?

involves: pregnancy, established relationship/marriage, kissing, hickies?, general tomfoolery, nothing major, dad!jungkook,

————————————————————

* those damned blue lines

* you thought you wouldn’t see them so soon

* after all you had only been married eighteen months

* old relatives have been asking since day 1 when they’re gonna he seeing some lil jeons running around smh aunty karen

* you wondered how he would react

* he’d never shown any adverse reaction to children before but he was practically still a child himself

* the spiderman onesie you washed yesterday attests to that

* you decided to tell him at dinner

* he’d just had his first bite of tagliatelle when you accidentally blurted it out

* “IM PREGNANT”

* “what?” he replied snapping his head up with wide doe eyes

* “I-I found out this morning...I’m definitely pregnant. I know it’s soon, but we can make this work.”

* “What’re you on about? This is amazing baby, I finally get to be a dad!”

* “So you want this?”

* “Definitely, I’ve always imagined a family with you, it was just a matter of time. I’m so happy though baby, over the moon.”

* The smile on his face was beaming and the twinkle in his eye sparkled, he looked the epitome of happiness

* “I’m glad you want this then, it’ll be a wild ride but I’m glad it’s with you.”

* you reach out and squeeze his hand, as a fat tear of joy rolls down your cheek

* “I’m glad too, I know we’re young but it feels so right, so right with you.”

* he looks down, a tear dripping onto the table

* he wipes a few more and giggles

* “Tbh im surprised this didn’t happen earlier considering we go at it like rabbits”

* “KOOK” you cant help but laugh

* He is right lol

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

One month 🍼

* “Where is my wife and my spawn~~~~~~”

* Jeongguk loudly sang as he burst thru the front door, arriving home from work

* “Wym spawn???“ You say as he pulls you into a bear hug and flops both of you on the couch

* “You know,, spawn, this baby, it’s my spawn hence why I’m calling it spawn like the superhero,, duh”

* he drops his hands down to your stomach and rest them their, flat palmed

* bowing his head so he is closer he says

* “I can’t wait to meet you Spawnie”

* Immediately you burst into a fit of laughter at the outrageous name

* “we CANNOT nickname our baby SPAWN, JEONGGUK”

* “Why not I think it’s well cool”

* he calmly replies proud smirk on his face

* “Is Spawn even a good guy?”

* “ummm”

* “wym ummm??”

* “well he’s kind of ambiguous in the comics”

* “OH GREAT WE HAVE A BABY NAMED SPAWN THAT IS OF AMBIGUOUS MORALITY”

* at that comment you both fell about laughing, your sides beginning to hurt at it all

* and that was how your unborn baby was nicknamed Spawn

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

Three Months 🍼

* “I can’t push the trolley, I’m pregnant”

* you said matter of factly

* “oh you’re just being lazy,, I mean I’m not saying I won’t push the trolley, but you’re really pushing the boat out, baby”

* “hehehe my plan worked, you fool, you may have suspected me, however you still fell right into my trap muhahahaha”

* you dramatically laugh and put your hands on your hips like a comical villain

* so anyways you skrt skrt around the shop

* and right next to the book section is you know what

* the BABY SECTION

* so far you actually haven’t looked their yet because you don’t know the gender

* but curiosity brings you snooping in the aisles

* Jeongguk returns from the bakery section, carrying croissants and hair swept into a messy top knot

* you stare at the many many many racks of children’s clothes

* tiny baby booties

* hats that kook could only fit on his fist

* so so smol baby-grows

* “ngl I’m kinda overwhelmed”

* “how come?”

* he puts his hands round your waist and rests his head on your shoulders

* big soft comfy back hug

* “idk it’s a lot of responsibility, right? I can’t even begin to think about names never mind washing, clothing, feeding this tiny human being when it arrives”

* “baby, you have nothing to worry about, and I am positive you’re going to be the best most caring mother ever, and I have full trust in that.”

* He places a soft chaste kiss on the top of your head

* “thank you for always supporting me ggukie”

* “It’s my pleasure; we’re going to have the best baby ever, aren’t we Spawnie”

* You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

Four Months 🍼

* you were sat on the couch in your small apartment, small but sufficient

* Jungkook was painting the spare room and deconstructing old furniture you were selling on eBay

* You’re job was to arrange the business dealings and to look for new kid-appropriate furniture to reoccupy the spaces now blank

* It was fine by you

* saves you from getting up off the couch and getting all sweaty

* after a good few hours JK came out from the room, sweat on his brow and hungry

* hungry for something else tho 👀

* he stalks over to where you are sitting and kneels on the floor in front of your knees

* he rests his head on your lap, arms folded underneath it

* his eyes were dark, full of want

* “How’s it going baby? You tired?”

* “hmmm”

* he just stares back

* brows slightly furrowed

* soon enough he was peppering your face in warm kisses

* he flipped you over and sat you on his lap, hands resting on your waist

* his lips latched onto your neck and he sucked a flourish of purple and blue flowers under your jaw

* his lips were warm and supple on your skin

* it sent a shiver down your spine and goosebumps to your skin

* you found the hem of his black T-shirt and slid your hands under the fray

* you’re hands met the toned muscle of his stomach and the soft honey skin

* “looks like I can’t knock you up since someone already has, oh well, more fun for me”

* his hands fiddled with the fabric of your top

* you obliged and pulled it over your head

* you were met with his mouth hungrily crashing into yours as he searched for more and soon enough you were underneath him

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

Six Months 🍼

* your belly was fairly noticeable by now and you couldn’t avoid the fact that you were pregnant

* people were starting to let you sit instead of them in public places

* you were getting more and more randos asking to touch your belly as well which wasn’t the greatest

* JK is always in protective dad mode™️ when this happens

* he’s ready to protect his babies

* one time when a sketchy looking old man asked to touch your belly JK immediately stood in between you and the guy

* he puffed out his chest and was hella macho

* Alpha Jungkook arises hehe

* ever since then he was more aware that people would be looking at you and more interested in you in general

* anyways

* he’s hella excited to be a dad

* his excitement is so pure and genuine it’s so sweet

* it’s like every day he gets more excited and you think by the full 9 months he’ll just be so excited he’ll be vibrating like a washing machine lol

* every night he kisses you and your baby good night

* “Night night baby jeon spawnie”

* without fail it makes you giggle

* his lil nose always brushes against your skin when he says it and it’s ticklish and comforting

* you can’t wait to meet your baby to see which of you they look like and in what ways

* will they have your double lidded eyes or his unique nose

* will they have his bunny teeth or your short stature

* either way they’ll be the most loved being in this world

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

Seven Months 🍼

* it was time for the long awaited gender reveal

* you and him had decided that you would go alone to the appointment since he had work and then you would surprise Ggukie when he gets back

* you decided the way you would tell him was by dressing in either blue or pink

* you know you know,, not really breaking gender stereotypes, but it gets the idea over

* so that’s what you do

* you wear you’re best maternity day dress and do your makeup all güd

* it’s 5:30pm and he’s so excited to know

* he barges thru the door and basically and sprints to you

* he’s met with a baby blue clad wife, her hair adorned with a periwinkle ribbon

* immediately he knows and swoops you up into a bear hug

* “Jungkook? We’re going to have a little baby boy!”

* “I’m so happy! I feel like I’ve drank five red bulls,, we’re going to have a boy”

* When you pull away from the hug his cheeks have tears dripping down them and his eyes are wet

* “aww baby why’re you crying?”

* “because I’m just so happy, I can’t wait to see him, he’s going to be perfect, we’ll all be perfect”

* “you’re right kook, we’ll be perfect”

* “You don’t know how much I love you, you know?”

* that was when you started crying tears of happiness too

* youd remember this moment forever

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

Eight Months 🍼

* “I think it’s time to think of some actual names”

* “yeahhh people at work keep thinking I’m actually calling the baby Spawnie and then I keep having to explain why it’s called Spawn and i don’t particularly like explaining that Spawn is a play on sperm and that’s my sperm”

* “What goes ON at your work”

* “you don’t even wanna know babygirl”

* “ummm so I was thinking, something familial, i don’t want a western name tho so that rules out my side,, unless you want to call him Barry”

* “uhh no thanks babes”

* “yeahh they’d sound like the flash lol”

* “I don’t want none of that DC propaganda in my household thanks”

* “tru tru”

* “so what about your side of family? Can you think of any family who have named you like?”

* “What about Junseok? My great uncle is called Junseok and I think that’s cool, also it kinda looks like a combination of Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung’s names.”

* “Wow they’d love that, that’s a good idea actually.”

* “Jeon Junseok, has a good ring to it”

* “I agree”

* “It’s settled then until further notice”

* “It seems it is Mr Jeon”

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

First Week Home 🍼

* The moment Junseok was in his little sunset coloured crib you burst into tears of relief

* you’d obviously been stressing post birth about the intricacies and once you’d got him home and settled it was like a weight of your shoulders

* he was home

* he was safe

* and you were both over the moon

* he had the smallest nose and the biggest doe eyes

* his dark hair swept across his delicate skin on his forehead

* you just knew he’d be the spitting image of his dad

* each following day with Junseok was amazing

* he was good for you

* slept so well

* settled into routine easily

* it’s as if you never had to worry

* and Jungkook was a life saver

* he was such an attentive father and husband

* always caring for you and Junseok

* every morning he’d bring you up a cup of herbal tea and bowl of granola

* and go check on the baby and if he’s awake change and feed him

* his paternity leave was a blessing

* it meant you actually got a lie in instead of Junseok waking you up

* “I can do the baby this morning, it’s ok”

* you say sitting up in bed

* “no no I’ll do it I’m used to getting up at this time for work anyway”

* “but you’ve been doing it all this week I feel bad”

* “Baby, rest, I want to do this, you deserve a rest after carrying the baby for nine months, I’m sure I can take care of him for a few mornings”

* then he gave u a sweet kiss and left to see his baby boy

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

Eighteen Months 🍼

* you pulled on Junseok’s tiny yellow wellies as Jungkook put on his coat

* “where are we going seokie?”

* “P-p-p” Junseok tried his best to get out the letters

* “Yayyy we’re going to the park”

* “Me and your mum are going to meet uncle Jimin too, and you know what that means? You’re going to get spoileddd”

* “V tru, but why does he always spoil him? I mean it’s not a problem he gets free things and stuff, but do you reckon he’s compensating for something?”

* “Yeah as nice as it is I think he might be compensating for not being around as often as he’d like to, solo career going strong as all, you know how he loves kids, in his head he probably thinks he’s an absent uncle but in reality he’s ever present just away for an odd weekend, which is normal”

* “yeah I get that”

* “But it’ll be nice to see him anyway, we can ask him about his new single”

* “Oh I’ve heard that it’s pretty good”

* Junseok pulled at the hem of your coat, indicating he wants to leave

* So off you went

* the day was filled with jumping in muddy puddles and Jimin nearly falling in said puddles

* Junseok got all dirty so you had to go find a bathroom to clean him up at

* hence why you ended up at an ice cream parlour in winter

* despite the cold weather you enjoyed the ice cream nonetheless

* JK teases Jimin a few times because apparently Jimin’s white blond hair was vanilla ice cream and his was chocolate

* Jimin insisted his was bingsu however JK refused

* Junseok had a great time fluffing up uncle Jimin’s hair after that

* and so the day drew to an end

* you headed home

* Seokie sleeping in the car all the way there

* you gently took him into the house and the pair of you collapsed on the couch and immediately fell asleep

* it was the cutest thing

* and when you woke up you saw your two boys asleep so soundly

* and you thought to yourself how content with your life you were

* how lucky you were

* how much you love those boys

* and you’d do anything for them

—————————————————ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

—————————————————

The End hehehe :)

[heesgf]

basketball player! byounggon

in honour of my baby’s birthday, here’s a cute + lighthearted basketball player! gon fic that i’ve been dreaming abt for eternity :’)) as per usual, the beginning is a little slow, but it’s worth ur patience, i promise💞😚

warnings: vvvv sweet (might give u cavities), BASKETBALL PLAYER GON BEING THE HOTTEST MF ALIVE, hyunsuk bff tomfoolery (what’s new lmao) 

in which Lee Byounggon is basketball team captain, and you’re suddenly a sports fanatic. 

             Had Choi Hyunsuk seemed a little less desperate, perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself in a crowded gymnasium, pressed against rampant bodies, and subject to the shrieks of devoted sport fanatics.

      This morning, like any other, had started quite mundanely. You were perched against the headboard of your dorm’s single bed, doodling carelessly onto sheets of chemistry homework, while Hyunsuk mused a brightly coloured fedora in front of your full length mirror.

“Listen,” You shouted across the room, in between bites of your buttered croissant. “I invited you over to study, not to commit fashion atrocities in my dorm room.”

      Hyunsuk, still balancing the horrendous garment over his head, shot you a pained expression, and rolled his eyes in distaste. He waves his hand vaguely in your direction and grimaces.

“Says the girl wearing a shirt that says ‘caffeine queen’.”

“Hey, you asshole, my mom got me this! I think it’s cute.” You cross your arms over your chest and narrow your eyes, while Hyunsuk shakes his head deliriously. He eyes you up and down once more, and then scrunches his nose.

“Sure, Jan.” He says slowly, and you contemplate throwing the pillow wedged behind your back toward his head. You opt against it, but the look on your face might be just as scary.

You stick your tongue out. “No one says memes out loud like that, you doofus!” 

He spares you a lopsided shrug and giggles, then he breaks out into a smile and looks toward you once more.

“You’re coming to the game later, right?” He starts suddenly, and you bite your lip.

“I don’t know, Suk. I’m trying to stay focused on chem and stuff.”

      Hyunsuk launches toward your spot on the bed, and reaches his hand out toward one of your stray sheets of paper, filled to the brim with miscellaneous stick figures and, in Hyunsuk’s opinion, the worst cartoon images of a corgi he’s ever seen.

“Yeah.” He baits, swinging the paper in front your wandering eyes. “You really look like you’re invested in learning.”

“Shut up!” You mumble out in a laugh, and then you roll your eyes. Hyunsuk still waits for an answer, and you purse your lips.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe, okay?”

      Hyunsuk’s nod seems uncharacteristically tame, but there’s something about the devious look in his eyes that makes you think this conversation is far from over. When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and his iron grips closes itself around your wrist, you find yourself yanked out of your room, into the hall, and most likely toward the gymnasium. In that moment, you think Choi Hyunsuk might be the worst person you’ve ever met, and the next couple hours, spent watching a college basketball game, were going to be completely unbearable.

***

      Two minutes into sitting on painfully cold bleachers, having popcorn spilled over your lap, and your cheek elbowed by the rowdy couple next to you, you think you might be having a basketball induced aneurysm.

      Hyunsuk is seated calmly next to you, and staring serenely into the crowd; every once in a while, he waves to someone you can’t recognize, most likely one of his teammates, and he looks back at you with a reassuring smile.

“Why are we here if you’re not even playing?” You groan, sliding your head onto his shoulder, and shutting your eyes tightly in discomfort.

“I told you, [Y/N].” He sighs into the crown of your head. “I have dance practice later. I gotta keep my calves limber. We’re here for the sportsmanship.”

      You playfully roll your eyes and feign a barfing motion. Hyunsuk pushes your head away from his shoulder and pouts.

“I don’t even know what that means and I’m still disgusted.” You retort. “Besides... what do you know about sportsmanship? Literally every time we play Mario Kart I catch you cheating.”

      Hyunsuk starts talking about how ‘you’re in great need of a chill pill’, and though you fight the urge to slap him silly, you instead find yourself staring intently at the court, eyes glazing over the lines of male athletes running drills across the gymnasium floor. As you watch, you notice the beads of sweat, the graceful strides, the cohesive movement, and as you watch, your eyes seem to close in on a particular someone—and suddenly, Hyunsuk’s words feel like they are worlds away.

      The boy is standing in the centre of the court with his hands pressed against his knees, and his eyes trailing sporadically across the room.

      His jersey, like all his teammates, is a blinding crimson, and against his honey sodden skin, a seemingly perfect contrast. His hair, slightly damp, is a disarrayed and glossy black, but something about the way it presses against his forehead, frays upward on the sides, sways lucidly when he runs, is wildly cinematic, and you think it just might consume you, like your favourite movie. On his back, there is the stark white outline of the number nine, and on the bottom, in between crinkled fabric, you think you can make out the name ‘Lee’. He’s waving his arms at a teammate, shouting something incoherent, and when the ball makes contact with his hands, his lips break out into the purest of smiles; it radiates an energy that is lively, almost impossible to miss, and completely intoxicating, even at your distance in the stands.

      When that smile transforms into the shell of laughter, there’s something about the crowd’s cheering that suddenly feels rhythmic.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking into Hyunsuk’s rib cage. “Who’s that guy over there?”

      Hyunsuk squints at your bewildered expression, and then looks onto the crowd, following the path of your eyes.

“Who? The guy in the hat? That’s coach Yang. God, I hate that guy. He’s always on my ass about making it to practice. And if you think my fashion is bad, Jesus Christ, you should see him at Sunday morning practice; crocs and socks all da-,”

“No, not him, you idiot.” You shake your head erratically. “T-the guy in the middle, look, he has the ball right now.”

“Oh.” He shrugs. “Well that’s Byounggon.”

“Byounggon.” You repeat. And then your bottom lips find it’s way between your teeth. Hyunsuk sits back against his seat, and focuses in on the game once more. And you, well you’re enamored by the rapid movements of a lanky boy with a smile that’s strikingly tender.

Byounggon.

You think maybe basketball isn’t so bad after all.

***

      When Byounggon’s team wins the game, Hyunsuk tackles you in a tight side hug that feels almost violent. He is jumping up in his seat, screaming toward his teammates, and coincidentally, dragging your body with him. When he finally pulls away, and you can catch a string of fresh air, you ponder the appropriate time to start asking questions. You’re trailing down the bleacher steps when your voice finally breaks out, and your eyes are glued to the floor.

“So... when is your next game?” You ask nonchalantly.

      Hyunsuk looks at you once in confusion. Then he makes a double take. And then a triple.

“Did you just say what I think you said?” Then he waves his hands in front of his eyes and shakes his head furiously. “Nah, I must be dreaming.”

“I’m serious!” You laugh. “I wanna watch your next game. I genuinely had fun!”

      Hyunsuk still looks weary, but he nods his head halfheartedly. When you think he’s stopped looking at you, you turn your attention back to Byounggon, who is currently standing in a crowd of his teammates, and giving high fives all around. You’re distracted by the way his eyes crinkle when you hear Hyunsuk emit an amused ‘huh’, and when he points a sly finger in your direction, you know he’s put two and two together.

“I see what’s going on here.” He whispers excitedly. “You have a thing for Byounggon!”

“What? No I don’t! I don’t even know him!”

“Oh really?” He teases. “Then stop drooling over him like an animal.”

“Suk, y-you’re being ridiculous right now.”

“And would you look at that!” He whistles. The mischievous glint in his eyes makes you nauseous. “Looks like he’s coming over here, right now.”

“Hyunsuk, don’t you fucking dare. I’m serious.”

“Hey Byounggon!”

“Ohmygod.” You whine, smacking a palm to your forehead as your heart overcomes itself with panic. “I hate you. I genuinely hate you.”

      Hyunsuk rolls his eyes, and then erupts in a laugh that makes the pits of your stomach twist.

“Trust me, [Y/N]. You’re gonna love me after this.”

You think that’s highly improbable.

***

Byounggon is more illusive when he stands in front of you.

      Now, jogging toward Hyunsuk, tufts of raven coloured frame the cusp of his forehead, and the slight peak of his neck; his eyes narrow, but it’s far from hostile, and rather, a tinge of warm familiarity.

“Hey, you came!” Byounggon remarks, pulling Hyunsuk into a tight hug, and you realize his voice is gruffer than you would've thought.

“You guys were awesome, dude!” Hyunsuk gushes with a smile, and then he looks towards you, and gestures a hand in your direction. “This is my friend, [Y/N].”

      Byounggon’s eyes shift to meet yours. He lifts his head in your direction, and waves his hand with a shy smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You respond awkwardly, raising a hand to match his stance.

He raises a brow and grins. “Did you like the game?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you guys were all really good. I loved it!”

“Really?” He breathes out in a giggle. “Because when I was sitting on the bench I could’ve sworn I saw you sleeping?”

      Hyunsuk breaks into a hysteric fit of laughs, and you shake your head rampantly, hoping the scarlet tinge of your cheeks doesn’t give you away. There was some truth to what he said; of course, when Byounggon wasn’t playing, the court seemed a little less compelling...

“Me?” You exasperate, face still flushed. “N-no, I would never!”

“Oh yeah, dude, she totally was. In the third quarter, she was knocked out! Almost drooled.”

      You shoot Hyunsuk a glare, but he’s too caught up in his own laughter to notice; Byounggon throws his head back in a soft chuckle, then he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you.” He smooths over. “I’m glad you guys liked the game.”

      His smile, like that smile on the court, is wide and contagious. And though you’re immersed in the plans of Hyunsuk’s murder, you can feel the corners of your lips drift upward, and the soft glimmer of a smile take over. When you hear someone shout Byounggon’s name across the gymnasium floor, you’re not sure if it’s the voice of one of his teammates, or the soft call of your heart.

Byounggon looks back at the sound and smiles apologetically. “That’s me. I’ll see you guys later?”

      Before he leaves, Hyunsuk pulls Byounggon in for another hug, and you offer an awkward wave. You watch as he drifts away from you, and toward Yang Hyunsuk, who you know knew was his coach.

Damn. His style really was awful.

“See, now that wasn’t so bad, right?” Hyunsuk’s voice breaks you away from your train of thought, and on instinct, you smack him across the chest.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” He groans, running his hand over the tender spot; you roll your eyes and trot forward, Hyunsuk trails behind you.

“That,” You shout. “—is for being the world’s WORST wing-man!”

“[Y/N]... You don’t mean that.”

You meant that.

***

      A few days later, and you’re sitting in the campus library, buried in Calculus homework. If you were being completely honest, the past few days had consisted a little too much of ‘finding Lee Byounggon’s Instagram and Facebook’ and not enough ‘finding the derivative of f’(a)’. You may not have been prepared for your upcoming midterm, but you were, however, well informed on the kind of memes Lee Byounggon liked to use on Facebook circa 2011; knowing that Byounggon was an avid watcher of Naruto made him somewhat less intimidating in real life.

      You’re still working through your Calculus workbook when the silhouette of a particular someone looms over the table, and when you look up, he’s flashing that smile that gives stars a run for their money; you think maybe his shadow made the room a little brighter.

“Hey! Whatcha’ doing?” His voice rings, and you remove a headphone from your ear.

      Byounggon is wearing a sleek black crewneck and light grey sweatpants that hang low on his waist. His hair, unlike at the game, is neatly tussled, but it still has that vibrant sheen. He’s standing at the end of the table, and looking at you curiously; at his side, he holds a black drawstring bag.

“Calculus.” You groan, and his face twists to match yours. “What about you?”

He shrugs. “On my way to practice.” 

“Through the library?”

He laughs. “It’s a shortcut.” Then he pauses, and continues. “By the way, if you like watching us play, you should come to our game this weekend.”

“Yeah, I might! I like watching you guys play, it’s kinda... surprising?”

      Byounggon scrunches his eyebrows together and tilts his head inquisitively. His gaze, at the moment, is soft and gentle; and you wonder just how much that gaze would change if you told him basketball was anything but stimulating, and it was instead the smooth curve of his lips that had kept you on the edge of your seat. But of course, you knew you couldn’t tell him that.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Your face twists into a sideways smirk, and you think you should have a little fun. “I guess I just thought basketball players had to be tall?”

“Wow, wow, wow. I’m tall.” He argues. “Very tall.”

     Now, you lean back in your chair, and size him up and down; then you shake your head and grimace.

“Mmmm...I don’t know about that.”

Byounggon straightens his back, and at the same time, puffs out his chest. He gestures up and down, and stares at you wide eyed.

“I’m 180cm tall.” He reassures. “I measure myself everyday!”

You tilt your head. “A little obsessive, don’t you think?”

His face, while tight, breaks out into a wholesome laugh, and he bites his lower lip.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“Aren’t you gonna be late for practice?”

       For a moment, Byounggon sticks his tongue of his mouth and smiles. Then he bites the inside of cheek and shakes his head at you, wagging his finger disapprovingly.

“This isn’t over.” He ventures, flashing you that smile once more. And when he walks away from your table, looking over his shoulder every so often to make eye contact, you find yourself overwhelmed with fluttering emotion.

“I’m tall!” Byounggon shouts one last time into the silent library, and various heads, all buried in books, lift to stare at the both of you. You glare at him, but the smirk that tinges on your lips tells a different story.

       You’re still staring at the library’s double door entry when Lee Byounggon leaves.

***

       Somehow, it’s a Thursday evening and you find yourself sitting in the bleachers of Byounggon’s basketball practice, rather than going to the gym like you had promised yourself.

       Byounggon is jogging across the gymnasium floor and running drills; he is clad in a large grey hoodie and fitted black track pants. At the end of practice, he talks with his coach, and his eyes twinge in confusion when he sees you in the stands. He grabs his bag, and while everyone trails out of the gym, he jogs toward you.

“Hey! Have you been here the whole time?” He breathes, running a hand through his dampened hair.

“No, no, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Hyunsuk kept asking me to watch him practice so... here I am!”

Byounggon bites his lips, and his eyes narrow, like he’s had a realization. His lips stretch into a smirk.

“But.” He ponders. “Hyunsuk wasn’t at practice today.” 

Your throat grows tight. “Oh.”

His smile widens, and your face flushes a deep and transparent red.

“That is... so weird!” You exclaim dramatically, but Byounggon can hear the panic in your voice, and he’s giggling. You hope he can’t see the red of your cheeks underneath the gymnasium’s orange lighting, too.

“I-I should probably get going.”

You turn your body toward the gym’s exit, and as your footsteps get heavier and heavier, you feel Byounggon’s fingers clasp onto your shoulder.

“Wait, [Y/N]! I wanted to ask you... do you wanna maybe, uh, get some ice cream?”

“Yeah.” You beam. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

***

       With some persuasion, Byounggon leads you into the boy’s change room. He sits on one of the wooden benches, in front of the row of lockers, and he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Just give me a second, I’m gonna change out of this, and then we can get going.”

Then suddenly, without warning, he takes his sweatshirt off, and you, are left winded at the sight of a shirtless Lee Byounggon.

Before you can marvel at the way his muscles tightly outline his abdomen, you slap the palms of your hand over your eyes, and scream.

“Jesus, can you give me a warning before you take your shirt off like that?” You groan, eyes still shut tightly through the protection of your fingers. Byounggon, now shrugging a fresh black t-shirt over his shoulders, chuckles deeply into the empty locker room, and the heavenly sound bounces off the walls. You know he’s coming closer because you can hear the sound of his footsteps, and your warm cheeks seem to fire up again. He outstretches a hand onto the crown of your head and ruffles your hair.

“You’re cute.” He says affectionately, and you suddenly think your hands would be better suited if they covered your cheeks, and not your eyes.

***

“I am not letting you buy butter pecan that’s disgusting.”

“What’s wrong with butter pecan? It’s like... sweet and savory.”

“Ohmygod, I’m gonna barf.”

       Byounggon sits back onto his chair and shoves another spoonful of butter pecan ice cream into his mouth, and you playfully gag in response. He’s laughing and rolling his eyes, but in the sparkling daylight, he still looks like something out of a spring catalogue. The sky’s vivid blue is complementary to the golden hue of his skin, and against the rosy pink of his lips, you think butter pecan might not be so bad.

      The two of you are sitting on the patio of an ice cream shop just off of campus, and maybe it’s the vibrancy of the sun, or the sugar high, but the scenery seems to amplify every emotion you feel. The pots of summer flowers at the shop’s entryway makes your anticipation grow tenfold, but the winding music of passing shop vendors soothes your beating heart with every note.

“Wait, hold on sec.” Byounggon mumbles.

      He leans forward into the patio table and his face, only centimeters from yours, makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat. His eyes are focused on something you can’t quite capture, and he outstretches a tentative hand to the side of your face. His fingers brush against the expanse of your jaw, and instinctively, you nuzzle into his touch. You think he might kiss you, because there are twinkling hearts where his eyes should be, and you feel your lips part in preparation. Byounggon’s fingers latch onto a single strand of your hair, and he twiddles with the bottom in between the pads of this thumb and index finger.

“You had ice cream in your hair.” He explains quickly, and then he moves back to his original position, and you hope you don’t look too disappointed.

“O-Oh.” You laugh. “Thanks.”

“So are you gonna come to the game tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

“I hope you do.”

      The smoothness in Byounggon’s reply makes chills run up and down your spine, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. He notices the rashness of his words and before you can respond, the words rush out of his mouth.

“B-because Hyunsuk!” He interjects. “I uhhh... know he’d be really bummed if you didn’t come.”

        Maybe it’s the vibrancy of the sun, or the sugar high, but you suddenly feel a rush of confidence spring through your body. Lee Byounggon may have been illusive, but he was always so candid, too; you could hear it in the airy quality of his laugh, like he’s gasping for oxygen, like he’s searching for answers, like he’s uncertain; uncertain about you.

You grin at him, and he licks his lips expectantly.

“Nice save, Gon.”

He looks down at his fingers.

“I’ll be there,” You bite your lip. “For sure.”

He looks up again.

      As you walk away from Byounggon with lips perched in a shameless smile, the giddy feeling in the pits of your stomach just might consume you. He’s still staring when you look over your shoulder, and if you listen close enough, you think you can hear him whispering to himself in complete elation;

Gon.

***

      ( Later that evening, you are home in your dorm and deconstructing the events that occurred only minutes prior, and your heart palpitates in your chest. It isn’t until you change into your pajamas when you notice it; a crumpled frock of red fabric shoved into your backpack.

      Your mind races when you guess what it might be, but the feelings don’t set in until you unfold the red fabric, and the stark white outline of the number nine greets you with a blinding sheen. Blinding like those eyes, Ike that smile.

His jersey.

      You don’t know when he’d put it there, or how, but those questions seem irrelevant when you push the material against your nose and breathe his soft scent; like spearmint and timber. You throw yourself against your bed and grin wholeheartedly.

That night you dream of Byounggon.

And now you think he might be dreaming of you, too. )

***

       You decide to wear Byounggon’s jersey underneath a sweatshirt because it all feels a little too cliche. Well, that, and because you don’t think you’ll be able to take Hyunsuk’s incessant teasing when your heart is beating out of your chest.  

      The gymnasium, like usual, is filled to the brim with amped-up sports fanatics, and if you squint your eyes, you think you can make out the face of Coach Yang standing across the court. (Although, you really wish you hadn’t; his sense of fashion seemingly degrades by the day.) This time, Hyunsuk is warming up with the rest of his teammates, with Byounggon, and you are sitting alone on the bleachers with a tight smile.

      You watch as Byounggon looks into the crowd, once, twice over, and when he finally makes contact with you, you watch as his eyebrows push together in subtle concentration. He beams a sideways grin, but it’s not quite as full as you’re used to. That’s when you push down the collar of your sweatshirt, reveal the patch of scarlet fabric beneath, and you think Lee Byounggon might look happier than he would have if he won this game.

      Moments later, Hyunsuk pushes himself next to Byounggon, catches your eye, and begins to wave erratically. Then he takes in your expression, and then Byounggon’s, and he nods slyly at you, wiggling his eyebrows. He’s worlds away, and yet, you give in, laughing with full vigor.

***

      You know Byounggon’s team has won the game when Hyunsuk removes his jersey off his body and flings it into the air, and then he screams like a madman across the court (somehow, over the crowds’ cheering). Byounggon, on the other hand, hugs his teammates, and once the chaos settles, he turns to look at you.

      You are standing in the bleachers, your sweatshirt now long gone, and the bright red of his jersey, on you, gives him butterflies. Since his victory, you’ve been jumping in the stands with the rowdy onlookers beside you, and for the first time ever, you think you might’ve actually enjoyed a basketball game. When Byounggon waves a hand at you, you take it as a sign, and run down countless steps, all the way to court-side where he stands waiting eagerly.

“Congratulations!” You shout, and he’s surprised when you fling yourself into his outstretched arms. His fingers intertwine in your hair, and he laughs onto the top of your head, placing a small kiss at it’s crown.

“Thank you.” He mumbles into your hair; a gesture with such tenderness, you feel yourself overridden with energy.

      Byounggon pulls away after a few moments, and his hands are still clasped tightly at the small of your back, yours around his neck. He doesn’t let go. Now, you’re staring intently into his eyes, remarking the scarlet hue of his cheeks—from the game, or this moment, you’re not sure—Byounggon doesn’t close the space between your lips because he’s too busy immersing himself in the gentle sparkle of your eyes; so you take it upon yourself, and kiss him amorously.

      His lips, thought slightly chapped, are fervent against yours, and part with a tenacity you’ve never quite encountered. You sigh into his mouth, and he softens his lips, brushing gently over yours; it’s chaste and sweet. You pull away when you feel your body grow weak, and you realize when you’re kissing Byounggon, breathing feels like a second priority.

       He is gasping into the hot air of the gymnasium, and you are biting your lips, hands still loosely clasped around his neck. His hands slide from the base of your jaw and toward your cheek, pinching softly.

“I hope that was okay.” You whisper. He moves his lips to your ear.

“It was perfect.”

       Before you can sigh in relief, hug him tighter, kiss him more, you can see Hyunsuk approaching through the corner of your eyes. He runs toward you with his lips outstretched into a wide grin, and as he comes closer, he opens his arms and envelops the two of you in a group hug.

“I take credit for every part of this.” Hyunsuk states with glee, and you smack him upside the head.

He flicks you against the forehead. “I’m way too happy to complain about your abuse right now.”

       And though the three of you erupt in boisterous laughter, and you shake your head fiercely into their embrace, you think there might be a layer of truth to Hyunsuk’s words. Had Choi Hyunsuk seemed a little less desperate, perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself at that first game, pressed against rampant bodies, and subject to the boy who you now swore had your heart.

       You may not have been the sports fanatic you envisioned, and now, after all this time, maybe you still weren’t; but you did like Lee Byounggon. And now, every time you count to ten, the number nine feels a little bit warmer.

***

a/n: if u made it this far, thank u so much for reading!! im sorry this is mostly plot driven and not necessarily beautiful writing, but i just wanted to post smth cute for gon’s bday!! as always, feedback is appreciated, and ilu all!!! 😚😚💞

[nearfoodsblog]

Here's 2017's Top Buffet Trends

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