#pining bagels repeat

[sargebarnesx]

Sweetness

Pairing: Jim Hopper x unnamed female OC

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: unprotected sex, semi-public sex, dirty talk, pining, spanking, Hopper's thighs in jeans (felt that this deserved to be here), little bit of instalove/lust

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: Jim Hopper could use a little sweetness in his life.

Author's Note: I’ve been working on this for forever but edited it pretty quickly so I apologize for any mistakes!

Monday

The bell over the door rang lightly. He looked out of place in the small bakery, the tan colors of his uniform contrasting with the baby blues and baby pinks adorning the walls. His eyes scanned over the various pastries, cookies, and cakes, sitting pretty in their cases underneath cozy lights.

“Good morning, how are y-oh hey Chief! How are you this morning?”

She emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on a white towel. Her hair was pulled back in a clip but she had loose strands sticking to beads of sweat on her forehead. Bits of flour were sprinkled among a smattering of freckles.

Jim Hopper raised a hand in greeting. “I’m good, honestly just hungry. Thought I’d stop by and see what you had available this morning.” He stepped closer to the counter.

She swiped her towel over her face before tossing it on a back counter. “We have muffins, croissants, bagels, donuts. We also have a small coffee bar. Any of that sound good to you?” She met his gaze from behind the counter, a good foot shorter than him. Her apron was tied twice around her waist, emphasizing her full hips. He noticed that the same freckles that decorated her face also covered her hands, arms, and chest.

“A coffee and a…” he trailed off, leaning back to eye the other case, “Blueberry muffin please.”

“You got it, Chief,” she turned away to grab a paper bag.

He had known her for a while; he remembered her from high school but she was younger, maybe a freshman while he was a senior. Her parents were an integral part of Hawkins, the owners of a sandwich shop down the road.

He felt she had barely changed over the years, other than the fullness of her figure, the length of her hair, the warmth in her eyes. He recalled her younger brother’s recklessness, his run-ins with the law. She wasn’t anything like him, at least not to his knowledge. Jim couldn’t imagine the person who ran a place like this had any interest in being reckless.

“Here you go,” her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he glanced up to see her holding a coffee cup and a paper bag out to him. “How much do I owe you?” He asked, reaching for his wallet. She shook her head, “It’s on the house.”

“No way, let me-“

“It’s on the house,” she repeated softly, “Happy Monday, Chief.”

Jim smiled in thanks, taking his items from her. She smiled back as he retreated towards the door and back to his Blazer. He pinched a small piece off of his blueberry muffin on the way to the station.

It was the best muffin he had ever tasted.

Tuesday

She blew out a breath, nearly dropping a tray of bagels on the counter. It was 7:45 am, and Kimberly, her opener, was supposed to have been here fifteen minutes ago. She had been here since 3 am and frankly, her arms were tired and her back hurt. She really didn’t want to work all day but it was looking like she’d have to. She had planned to leave at 9:00 am when her other staff members were scheduled to arrive but such is the life of a business owner.

She hurriedly finished setting up her cases, taking note of what needed to be done that day. Hawkins was a small town but she was lucky enough to be a local favorite. She had made countless birthday cakes for the children of her former classmates, baked bread that would be sold at her parent’s sandwich shop, and catered desserts at the Hawkins High reunion every year. Baking was her passion but going to a doctor’s appointment and taking a short nap before returning to the bakery in the afternoon was taking precedence today.

She could hear a car pulling in and she hoped it was Kim, better late than never. She started walking to the door but hesitated when she saw him.

Jim Hopper was here.

Again.

She opened in exactly one minute and Jim Hopper was parked in a spot right outside her door, patiently waiting. As she stared at him, she noticed Kimberly walking quickly across the street. She unlocked the door and pushed it open as the young woman babbled, “Oh my goodness I am so sorry I’m late, I will stay late today to make it up to you, I am so sorry.”

“That’s fine,” she murmured, following her inside, “Can you refill some coffee supplies, please? I didn’t have the chance to yet.” “Sure thing!” Kim replied, grabbing handfuls of supplies and carting them over to the small table in the corner. She started her trek to the back when she heard the bell over the door ring.

“Good morning!” Kimberly called and she heard Jim give a gruff “morning” in response.

“Fancy seeing you here, Chief,” she said, leaning onto one of her cases.

“I won’t lie, I haven’t stopped thinking about that blueberry muffin I had for breakfast yesterday,” he admitted sheepishly, “And please, call me Jim.”

She was silent for a moment while she took in his appearance. He looked…tired. Stressed. She imagined that working as the chief of police wasn’t an easy job, even in a small town like Hawkins. And she knew that he had been through a lot in the past. Even with the slight discoloration under his eyes, she couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Honestly, she was harboring a small crush on him and had been for years. He was tall and strong, and she had always been fixated on his hands. They were large, with long fingers. She imagined he was the type of man who had rough, callused hands that would feel absolutely delicious dragging across her skin. She’d never tell him that, though.

“Alright…Jim,” she said with a smile, “What would you like today? Another blueberry muffin?”

His eyes scanned her case, “I’m thinking…a blueberry muffin and a banana nut muffin. And a coffee, of course.”

“Sure thing,” she reached for a white paper bag while her opener asked him about his coffee preference. God, now she couldn’t stop thinking about his hands. And his beard. And his mouth.

She needed to stop.

Her cheeks were no doubt stained pink, she could feel the heat rising to them. She felt a hand on her arm. “You alright?” Kimberly asked, holding Jim’s receipt in her other hand, “Can I have his bag please?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry!” She folded the bag closed and handed it over. Jim was smirking on the other side of the counter, “Got a lot on your mind?” She chuckled, “You have no idea. I hope you enjoy your muffins.”

Jim nodded, “Oh, I know I will. That chocolate donut is catching my eye too though.” He pointed at one of her favorite desserts, a chocolate-frosted donut with sprinkles.

“I love those,” she said, “But they’re really sweet, maybe a little too sweet for breakfast.”

“Eh,” Jim shrugged, “I could use a little sweetness in my life.”

Wednesday

Hopper had a crush.

He was a 44-year-old man and he had a crush.

He couldn’t get her off of his mind. Her soft hair was always sprinkled with flour. Her eyes, the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her smile was framed by full, luscious lips. He thought about her first thing in the morning, thought about her making him blueberry muffins in nothing but his t-shirt while he got ready for work. She crossed his mind at lunchtime, distracting him from his paperwork with her puzzling looks and skilled hands. And at night, when he laid in bed alone with his cock squeezed in his fist, he would think about her naked and on her knees, with those sweet lips wrapped around his length.

Fuck.

He needed to see her again, but the phone was ringing off of the hook and the paperwork was piling up on his desk. There was no way he could make an excuse to take a mid-day trip to her bakery.

Unless…

Jim tossed the stack of paper he was rifling through onto his desk and stood abruptly. He grabbed his keys and his hat, placing the latter atop his head before walking out of his office. “Anybody up for some donuts?” he asked, not even stopping for an answer, “I’ll be right back.”

Powell and Callahan looked at each other in awe over a massive stack of folders between them. “Eh, at least we get donuts,” Callahan lamented, shrugging.

Jim made it to the bakery in record time. He eagerly reached for the door handle in the Blazer before he paused.

Relax.

He climbed out of the Blazer and walked coolly to the door, pulling it open. He heard the bell ding overhead.

“Good afternoon, Chief Hopper!”

It was the young girl who was working with her yesterday morning. She was nowhere to be seen. Hop nodded at the girl behind the counter. “Uh…” he started, “Can I get 2 dozen donuts, please?”

“Of course!”

Hopper tried his best to be inconspicuous as he looked above the young girl’s head into the kitchen. He didn’t see her anywhere. “Do you have a preference on which donut you’d like more of, Chief?” the girl asked, showing him a half-filled box. “Let’s get more of the chocolate iced with sprinkles,” he said, pointing to the remaining donuts in the display.

“My favorite.”

There she was. She must have come in from a back door because he hadn’t heard the bell ring. She was wearing a dark blue spaghetti-strap dress. It had scalloped edges, an eyelet design, and stopped just above her knees. Her hair was down from her normal ponytail and she was wearing a bit more makeup than usual. She carried an empty tray.

“We have more in the back to refill the case, Kimberly,” she mentioned to her employee passively while keeping her eyes on him, “I’ll check him out.”

“I’m sure you will,” he thought he heard Kimberly mumble under her breath as she closed the donut boxes and handed them to her. They stood facing each other now, with only a register in between them.

“Treating the guys at the station to some donuts?” She asked, punching in a few numbers on the register. Hop nodded, “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about them, so…”

Was he crazy or was the tension between them thicker than ever right now?

Jim eyed the outline of her dress, tracing the skirt down and then back up to her waist, noting the cinched fabric creating the most tempting slope, the perfect place for his hands. She watched him and yet he didn’t stop. Her skin was glowing with moisture from the summer heat and he imagined what it would taste like if he licked from her collarbone to her jaw. He imagined that she tasted like buttercream frosting and the thought made his cock half-hard.

“Definitely haven’t stopped thinking about them,” he repeated, meeting her eyes with a smoldering gaze. She grabbed his donuts and walked around the counter, holding them out to him. When he took them, his fingers brushed against hers.

“Thanks, Sweetness,” he murmured, a sly grin playing across his features, a playful glint in his hooded eyes. Her eyebrows knit together and she smirked, “Sweetness?” He didn’t respond, just winked at her as he took the boxes and pressed the door open with his backside.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She called after him, but the door had already slammed shut.

Thursday

Sweetness. He had called her Sweetness.

And he came to the bakery three days in a row. There had to be a reason.

She had known Jim for a long time, considering they had both grown up in Hawkins. She remembered when he was a young boy leading the pack, she remembered when he would smoke cigarettes under the bleachers and she would hear rumors about his flirtations, his skill as a kisser. How he’d trailed his hands under skirts in the backs of classrooms. She remembered when she came back from college and he came back from Vietnam, when he got married and had his daughter. She remembered the tragedy of his loss and the way it affected him. But she was always an outsider, a spectator, and honestly, an admirer.

He had been so handsome throughout every stage she had known him, especially now. His thick, sturdy, strong body towering over her, his beard with the beginnings of salt and pepper growing in. She always stared at his arms, his thighs, wondering what they felt like. Those strong arms wrapped around her, reaching down to grope at her ass. His thighs were a perfect seat for her to grind her desperate pussy on, while she dug her nails into his shoulders, his growls shaking her entire body.

“My God, you are so into him,” Kimberly’s voice broke through her daydream.

“Wh-what?” She stuttered, grabbing at frosting bags to keep her hands busy. Kimberly smirked, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “You are so into the Chief,” she replied, “It’s obvious.”

“Kim, are you serious? I don’t know why you would think-“ she broke off when she noticed Kimberly’s look of doubt. Her cheeks turned an intense shade of red and she hid her face with her hands. “I am totally into the Chief,” she finally admitted.

Kimberly clapped her hands and squealed, “I knew it! You’ve been looking over at the door every hour to see if he’s coming in again today.”

Kimberly was right. The older woman’s eyes had been glued to the door all day, almost like a magnet was drawing them together.

“Can you blame me? He’s come in every day this week! I can’t help expecting that he’ll come in today too,” she explained, piping a border onto the small cake in front of her. Kimberly grabbed a coffee cup and a black marker and held them out to her, “When he comes in, you should give him a cup of coffee on the house with your number written on it.” She looked at Kimberly with apprehension, “You don’t think he’d see that as juvenile?” Kimberly shook her head, “I think he’d love it.”

She put down her piping bag to take the cup and the marker. Kimberly smirked again and left her to her own devices to tend to the front. Would Jim like that, her number written on a cup of coffee? She couldn’t help but think they were too old for these games but maybe he’d find it…endearing.

She heard the bell ring. “Oh, hello Chief Hopper!” Kimberly announced way too loudly to be casual. She would have to reprimand her for that later. But it was now or never. Make a move or regret it. She quickly scribbled her number on the side of the cup and once she knew it was dry, she pressed that side against her palm and walked towards the coffee bar.

His eyes were on her as soon as she stepped into view. “Hey,” he greeted, handing Kimberly a few dollars without even looking at her. She smiled in response and began filling the cup. “I’d been wondering if we were going to see you today,” she said, pressing a lid onto the cup. He chuckled, “Here I am.”

The coffee cup felt scalding hot against her skin, “Coffee on the house?” She offered it to him and knew immediately that he would refuse. “I can’t let you do that, please let me pay,” Jim reached for his wallet, fisting his pastry bag in the other hand. She held up a hand. “Jim, please,” she held it towards him once more, “It’s on me.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment and she could’ve sworn his eyes flickered to her lips before meeting her own again. He was in jeans today instead of his normal uniform - jeans that hugged his thighs and his ass in just the right way. God, she wanted him so bad. Wanted to feel those taut muscles under her hands, wanted to feel the brush of his beard on her skin. Could he tell that she was fantasizing about fucking him right in the middle of her bakery?

Kimberly cleared her throat, which seemed to break both of them from a trance. Jim wrapped his hand around the coffee cup and the sudden loss of warmth was jarring. “Thank you for the coffee,” he said, raising it like he was toasting to her. She nodded, “Thank you for stopping by.” And just as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone.

“Did you even notice the other customer that was here while the two of you were making goo-goo eyes at each other?” Kimberly asked, punching numbers on the cash register.

“Nope,” she replied, rounding the counter and smirking at Kim, “Also, you should work on that whole ‘being casual’ thing.”

Friday

The number on his cup told him everything he needed to know.

He was going to make his move. Tonight.

He’d wear some jeans - she couldn’t take her eyes off of him yesterday when he had shown up in his relaxed-fit jeans. He’d wear cologne - nothing too heavy, just a little something to complement his natural scent. Whatever that was. Coffee and cigarettes? Women he’d been with before usually told him he smelled like a real man, so maybe she’d like it too.

It was 7:15 pm - her bakery closed in 45 minutes. He would make it there in ten minutes from the cabin. His palms were sweaty against his steering wheel, but he blamed that on the summer heat, not nerves, as he navigated the downtown streets.

He parked, noticing a lack of cars out front. Perfect. He could see her through the door as he approached. She was sweeping, wearing her usual apron, blouse, and loose jeans combo. Her hair was down, swaying with each brush of the broom. He pushed the door open and she turned at the sound of the bell.

Her cheeks tinged pink as soon as she saw him. “Hi Jim,” she said softly, leaning the broom against the closest table. “Hey Sweetness,” he replied gruffly, walking towards her, eyeing her up and down as he did so.

When their eyes met, it was like they were locked, and neither of them had enough willpower or want to find a key. Her eyes were warm, like a cup of coffee with a swirl of creamer. My God, she was so beautiful. What he wouldn’t give to trace his fingers along her cheek and brush his lips against her jaw. And fuck, he wanted to run his tongue down her neck to that expanse of skin that was exposed under her v-neck shirt.

“Something on your mind?” She questioned softly, her eyes flicking to his mouth. He nodded, “Yeah-“

But at that moment, he was surprised by her sudden movement to press her lips on his.

Jim didn’t hold back. He gripped her soft hips, pulling her into him, against his already hard cock. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, feeling her jaw move against his palm as she opened her mouth to welcome his greedy tongue.

“Jim,” she murmured against his mouth, groaning as he latched his lips to the skin of her neck and slid his arms around her waist. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Jim admitted, his face still buried in the crook of her neck, “Everything I wanna do to you.” She nodded in agreement, “Me either. I want you…want your cock…fucking hell, Jim, I need you.”

He chuckled, sinking his teeth into her soft flesh, then placed a trail of kisses up to her mouth. She opened her eyes then, meeting his blue ones.

“For someone so sweet, you sure do have a filthy mouth.”

With that, he picked her up, kissing her again until their legs met the counter. He placed her there, nestling into her warm center, his cock pressing tightly against his zipper, desperate to be inside her. Her hand was on his dick immediately while they kissed, palming him and squeezing him over his jeans. “Oh fuck, hold on,” he gripped at her wrist as he breathed deeply, “Don’t wanna cum in my pants.”

Her lips were on his neck now, undoubtedly leaving deep purple marks. “Where do you wanna cum then?” She whispered in his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Jim grabbed her chin, “Maybe this pretty little mouth. Or that wet, hot pussy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

She spread her legs further and slid her hands into his back pockets, “Please fuck me, Chief. Right here, right now.”

Hopper growled in triumph, “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He pulled at the button on her jeans, ripping the zipper open with it. She pushed her pants down her legs and over her little white sneakers, all the way to the floor where they landed with a soft thud. While he was unbuttoning his jeans, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her panties - they were soft cotton in the palest shade of blue. He’d never seen anything more sexy.

“Can’t wait to fuck you, Sweetness.”

She bit her lip as she looked up at him, watching his face as the cool air in the bakery finally hit the burning hot skin of his cock. He could tell she wanted to touch him, to put him in her mouth, but all that would come later. Right now, he knew she needed him deep inside her.

He hooked two fingers onto her panties, “You wet for me?” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. He wrapped his fist around his cock, lining it up with her entrance before thrusting inside her.

Fuck, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt this way before. Her pussy gripped his cock so tightly, so perfectly, like they were made for each other. He wasn’t going to last long like this. He wanted to rail her, rail her right here in her place of business on a Friday night, and make her cream all over his cock. Then he wanted to take her home and prepare a hot bath for her, then bury his tongue between her legs in his bed. Then on Saturday…

He wanted to take her to the diner for breakfast.

He wanted to curl up next to her on the couch for an afternoon nap.

He wanted to watch her put on her favorite dress and curl her hair and take her out to dinner.

Jim would do all those things. But right now, he was going to make her cum.

“Ugh fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, reveling in the obscene sounds coming from where the two of them met at their center. She was breathing heavily, whimpering with every deep thrust. He trailed his hand up under her blouse to squeeze her tits - another thing he’d have to give extra attention to when he could get her in his bed.

“Tell me how I’m making you feel, Sweetness. Baby, tell me how much you love this cock,” he was moaning in her ear, his climax building. He could feel her pussy clamping down on him with every writhe of her hips. She nodded, “Feels so good. Fuck, I love the way you fill me up. Better than I ever imagined.”

“Can I bend you over this counter?” Hopper asked, wanting nothing more than to have his hands on her ass. She nodded, gasping when he pulled out, leaving her empty. When she was bent over in front of him, he swept her panties down her thighs, using both hands to roughly grope at her ass. “Fucking sexy ass,” he muttered, smacking both cheeks in quick succession. She moaned, shuddering against him. “Harder,” she requested, “Please.”

He brought his hand down again, harder this time, and she jumped as it connected with her ass. Her skin turned red immediately and he rubbed her gently before doing the same to her other side. Hop placed a kiss on each cheek before he gripped her hips and pulled her back onto his cock.

“You feel even better - like this,” she choked out against a whimper. Jim could only smirk and continue to fuck up into her. He wanted to cum with her, feel her climax soak him at the same time he painted her insides with his own.

“You close, Sweetness?”

She nodded and Jim pushed harder, each drag of his cock bringing them that much closer to satisfaction. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up against him, “Wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

Her eyes were trained on his and her nails dug into his sides. He was so fucking close.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as her orgasm wracked through her body. He brought her left arm around her waist and his right hand to her face, kissing her as he exploded.

They trembled together, taking a moment to allow the pure bliss to course through them. He held her tightly until she turned in his arms. “I need to sit down,” she admitted sheepishly. Jim grinned as he walked her to a seat, making sure she was secure before he retrieved her pants.

“That was…the hottest thing I have ever done,” he told her as she pulled her pants back on. She giggled, “Honestly? Me too.”

Jim fixed his clothes and checked his watch, “Do you need this door locked? You’ve been closed for the last 45 minutes.”

She nodded, “Yes, please. We’re lucky no one came in.”

Jim clicked the latch on the door to a locked position, then met her in the center of the room, where they had started that night. He reached for her and she stepped into his outstretched arms, resting hers on his shoulders while his encircled her waist.

“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

He could barely get the sentence out before she gave him the best possible answer.

“Yes.”

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

We've Been On a Winning Streak

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 6

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

7.9k words

Warnings: Language, alcohol, kissing, let the pining begin...

I yawned as I padded into the kitchen, pulling a sweatshirt on. Normally, Sydney would have already pulverized my door open until I gave her attention, or, more importantly, food. This morning? Nothing but silence from the needy cat. All I could do was hope she hadn’t gone and bothered-

“Morning.”

Roy Kent was sitting on my kitchen floor, Sydney on his lap. He blinked up at me, tiredness on his face as he stroked the cat’s fur. All the memories of the night before- his song, kissing him, the pride on his face as he watched me sing ‘Nothing New’- came flooding back. All I could do was offer him a little wave before opening a cupboard to get Sydney’s breakfast.

Roy cleared his throat. “I fed your cat,” he announced when he saw me grab the canned food. “Hope that’s alright. She kept meowing and shit, so I figured…”

I replaced the can and offered him a tight smile. “Thanks, Kent.” I eyed the cat, who looked far too comfortable in the footballer’s arms. Traitor. “No wonder she’s in love with you.”

“She’s pretty cool,” he chuckled, eyes on the kitty, who was staring up at him like he was catnip. His gaze flickered back to me. “D’you need me to start taking off? I’m sure you’ve got shit to do.”

Some part of me wanted to say yes, to kick him out and have my house to myself to relax after a long night.

Instead, I shook my head and leaned on the kitchen counter.

“You hungry? I can call April and have her bring us some breakfast. She usually comes over the day after the karaoke party, just to check in.”

Roy set Sydney down and joined me at the counter. “Sounds great, sunshine.”

Ignoring the nickname that was apparently mine now, I tapped away on my phone. When it started ringing, I put it on speaker, tapping my foot as I waited for her to answer.

“Hello?” April’s voice was groggy and tired. I felt kind of bad and wondered if I’d woken her up; but she was usually an early riser, I reminded myself.

“Morning, April,” I said. Roy looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Are you coming over, babes? I was hoping you’d bring me and Kent some bagel sandwiches or something.”

She yawned in response. “Um, yeah, yeah.” Something in her voice sounded on edge, as if she was dreading something. “Let me, er, shower and, um, I’ll be there in about thirty-”

“Babe, where d’you keep your kettle?”

While I was still processing the familiar voice that came through the speaker, Roy’s eyebrows nearly flew off his face. He grabbed my hand roughly and pulled it close to his face so he could bark into the speaker, “Is that fucking Tartt?”

Oh. Oh shit. I covered my mouth with my free hand to stifle my giggle. Why was Jamie Tartt at April’s place so early in the morning? The morning after the karaoke party, where they’d been flirting all night?

As if it wasn’t completely obvious.

“Oh shit,” Jamie’s voice came through the phone. “Did I just hear Roy?” His voice was louder, as if he was closer to the phone now. “Mornin’, Coach!”

Roy rolled his eyes with a massive growl. When he caught my eye and noticed the way I was desperately fighting laughter, the corner of his mouth ticked upwards in a little smirk, the kind I was quickly becoming used to. “Yeah, it’s me,” he grumbled, still holding my hand in his. “And you better not get yourself a bagel sandwich, you’re in fucking training, pretty boy.”

I quickly said goodbye to April, struggling not to chuckle at the stammering and wavering of her voice. As soon as the call disconnected, Roy let go of my hand, as though he was just noticing that he was still gripping it gently. He hopped onto the counter, his eyes playful, the way they’d been the nights we played darts and scrabble.

“So, Tartt and April,” he hummed, shaking his head.

“Tartt and April,” I repeated with a chuckle. “Good for her, honestly. She deserves a sexy little plaything. God knows I work her hard enough.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “You really think Tartt’s sexy?” There was an edge of teasing in his voice, cut with something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I shrugged, curious where this conversation was headed. “I guess. He’s a good-looking guy, you know? Talented and charming. And really cocky. Honestly, he’s the kind of guy I would normally go for.”

“What about me?”

My mouth went completely dry as I blinked at Roy and his raised eyebrows. What the fuck was he asking me? “What about you, Kent?”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to my wandering cat. “D’you think I’m sexy?”

A scoff flew out of my mouth as I scooped Sydney up. “Do you ask your real girlfriends if they think you’re sexy?”

“Fuck no,” he snorted, reaching out to pet Syd behind her ear. “I know my real girlfriends think I’m real sexy.”

“Well then.” I smirked at him, tugging Sydney out of his reach. “Guess as your fake girlfriend, I’ll say I find you fake sexy.”

A loud laugh flew out of Roy’s mouth, filling the kitchen with a full, joyful sound. “Break my fucking heart, why don’t you?” He shook his head and moved to pull down some coffee from a cupboard; it was strange how quickly he was getting to know his way around my kitchen. “April didn’t have to bring breakfast, you know.” He shrugged. “I could’ve made something.”

“Oh, Roy Kent can cook?” I jeered.

He narrowed his eyes at me as he prepared some coffee. “Wow. First, I’m not sexy, now I can’t cook. That’s it, sunshine. Next sleepover, I’m making you dinner. Then you can eat your words and my famous risotto.”

~

Roy sighed and took a sip of his beer. He should’ve known this Jamie-April thing would find a way to bite him in the ass. Going on a double date with Tartt was most definitely not his idea of a good time, but some begging from his ‘girlfriend’ to give April the opportunity to spend time with the striker and get their own pictures taken had him sitting in a club with his arm wrapped around the beautiful popstar.

“Did you want to dance?” he asked over the music, dipping his head slightly so he could bring his lips to her ear.

She shook her head and gave his arm a little squeeze. “I’m good,” she replied. “If we were out there, April wouldn’t be able to be a dirty little dancer with Jamie. She knows I’d give her such a hard time if I saw her grinding on him.” She winked at Roy. “She’s down bad for your boy, you know that?”

Roy rolled his eyes, instinctively tugging her closer. “Do not call Tartt ‘my boy’,” he scoffed.

Her eyes were bright as she opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by April, hurrying over in her sparkly dress and high heels. Her expression looked less like the infatuated girl Roy and Jamie had picked up and more like the harried assistant he’d met when setting up his fake relationship.

“Apes? What’s wrong?”

April pulled the popstar to her feet and said something into her ear. He saw an eyeroll and annoyance on that pretty face, before she turned to face Roy with a pout on her lips. He stood before she even started waving him over, bringing her the drink she’d left behind and ignoring for the millionth time how good she looked in the tiny black skirt and boots she wore.

“Roy, you need to act like you’re in love with me.”

Roy furrowed his brows and cocked his head at her. “Isn’t that… the plan?” he asked stupidly.

She sighed and gave her hair a stressed little touch. “Everett’s here,” she huffed. “My Everett.”

Something tugged in Roy’s stomach at those last two words. “That ratty little wannabe rockstar you used to run around with? The prick that sucker punched that poor bloke and sent him to hospital?”

A tiny smile returned to her face. “Is Roy Kent really judging someone else’s violent tendencies? Didn’t you once fight Jamie- your own teammate- on the pitch?”

“I’m not averse to violence,” he chuckled, pleased to see her grinning again. “What I am averse to is picking a fight with someone whose back is turned.” He finished his beer with one final swig. “Seriously, sunshine. You sure know how to pick ’em.” When he saw her raised eyebrow, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Alright, fine, doting boyfriend reporting for duty.”

He swore he saw something grateful on her face as she leaned into his touch. This was part of being a good friend, Roy decided as his thumb stroked the little peek of skin between her skirt and top, smirking a little when he felt her involuntary shiver. He wondered if maybe he could tell her the truth about Keeley… she seemed like she’d be up for some conspiring. Maybe help him make Keeley jealous, if the confident blonde was even capable of such an emotion. Or at least show his ex that Roy was still a very, very good boyfriend, maybe help her consider giving him another chance-

“Fuck, there he is,” April groaned, gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes. Roy was amused, realizing once again that the two women were more than boss and assistant; there was a genuine, intimate friendship between them. “I can’t even look at him. I’m gonna go find Jamie and get all of us another round of drinks.”

Roy was so busy watching April storm off he almost missed the approaching ex-boyfriend. But he definitely saw the dark sparkle in the man’s eye as he approached, as well as the too-tight jeans and unbuttoned shirt the man wore. Even before the guy opened his mouth, Roy knew he was going to be an absolute prick.

“Hey, beautiful,” the man hummed, waggling his eyebrows at the woman Roy now tightened his grip on. “How’ve you been? Alright after hearing about me and Cam?” His simpering little pout had to be one of the most obnoxious things Roy had ever seen, barring anything Jamie had ever done.

She sighed and looked up at Roy, holding his gaze like an anchor. “Roycito, this is Everett,” she said simply, using what Roy assumed was supposed to be her nickname for him; there was something sweet and homey about it, he thought. He wondered if he’d have to get used to hearing it. Clearly holding back a grimace, she turned back to the singer. “Ev, this is-”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Everett interrupted with a laugh, nodding at Roy. “Only been watching you my whole life.” The smirk on his face was so fucking punchable. “I think I was just learning to walk when you retired, Kent.”

Roy was used to old man jokes. Hell, he made them himself sometimes. He didn’t always mind them, not when they came from Keeley or his sister or even Jamie. But he sure as hell minded when the joke came out of such a weaselly-looking guy- Roy couldn’t bring himself to think of this as a man- who kept sneering at the popstar on Roy’s arm.

“Oh, I get it.” Roy let out a fake little laugh, as though barely registering the joke. “You’re younger than me.” He gestured towards Everett’s unbuttoned shirt. “Is that why you haven’t grown any chest hair yet, hmm? Still waiting to hit puberty then?”

A stifled giggle hit Roy’s ears as his ‘girlfriend’ buried her face in his shoulder. He fought the urge to smile, feeling a smidge of pleasure that he’d managed to make her laugh, despite the discomfort her ex obviously brought with him. Deciding to really commit to the bit, he planted a small kiss to the top of her head while stonily holding Everett’s gaze, the way he definitely would be doing if he was trying to stake his claim on her.

“Heard that new song of yours.”

Roy bit back a groan; could this guy really not take a fucking hint?

Her voice was patient. “It felt good to finally release it.” She cleared her throat. “Roy here liked it, didn’t you, babe?”

Before Roy could gush about how brilliant he thought it was- not a single fucking lie on that front- the skinny prick opened his mouth. “Guess you’ve run out of ideas, hmm? Releasing something you wrote almost a decade ago instead of something new?”

It was a good thing Roy’s hands were occupied, because he wanted to knock this guy’s lights out. Fucking really? The woman shares this personal, vulnerable song, something she’d apparently been mulling over and returning to for years, and that was what he had to say about it?

Once again, Roy marveled at her choice in men.

“I thought it was fucking brilliant,” Roy growled through gritted teeth. He’d have to apologize later for the nail marks he was probably leaving on her waist. “Probably one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, actually.” He cocked his head at the rockstar. “I’m sorry man, I can’t think of a single song of yours. Something whiny and shitty I assume?”

Everett puffed out his chest, surprisingly confident for a guy half Roy’s size. Annoyed by the mere sight of that this guy’s face, with his weak attempt at a mustache and the bags under his eyes, Roy let go of his ‘girlfriend’, ready to come to blows; maybe he was too old for this shit, fighting in a club over a girl, but he was also too old to let anyone insult the people he cared about.

And yeah, he admitted, he kind of cared about her.

Instantly, her hand was on his shoulder. “Roycito,” she said in a quiet voice with raised eyebrows. “Come on. Let’s go find April and Jamie.” She slid her hand down his arm until her fingers intertwined with his. Her eyes found the skinny rockstar, nothing but ice behind her gaze. “Tell Cam I said hello,” she said coolly. She turned and walked in the direction April had disappeared in, not letting go of Roy’s hand or looking back at the rockstar that Roy noted was definitely still watching her.

Still holding hands, the two of them maneuvered through the club and to a dark side exit. Roy allowed himself to be led out of the club into a tiny, surprisingly clean alley, the kind of spot a younger Roy Kent would definitely have taken a pretty girl like her for some heavy kissing and dirty whispering before inviting her to continue things at his place. Instead, he gulped a little as she whirled around on Roy, gazing up at him expectantly. The look on her face let Roy know that she was waiting for him to speak first.

“I could’ve taken him,” Roy grumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Probably be good for the prick, a little vacation to hospital, some time to reflect on how to not be a piece of shit.”

She was clearly fighting the urge to laugh as she shook her head at Roy. “And then you would’ve been in the papers for fighting my ex in a club, and I’d be back to square one trying to find a new fake boyfriend.” She gave Roy’s hand a playful squeeze. “He’s not worth it, Kent.”

Her words had Roy frowning harshly. “Then why’d you date him?” he blurted out without thinking. “Why the fuck would you put energy into someone who’s ‘not worth it’?”

He regretted his judgmental words almost instantly when he saw the way her face fell and turned thoughtful. He’d meant to insult Everett, not her. But he could tell she was taking his words to heart as she finally opened her mouth, eyes on the sidewalk instead of Roy. “Because the guys that are worth it,” she said slowly, “never seem to think I’m worth it.” She nodded, more to herself, meeting his gaze again. “And guys like that-” She gestured back towards the club. “-tend to be the ones I’m left with.”

Before he could consider his words, Roy spoke softly. “I can’t imagine any fella not thinking you’re worth everything.”

Time froze in that little alleyway as she gazed at him, her hair all haloed by the light above them and her eyes reflecting his own. Roy was suddenly incredibly aware of how close she stood to him, how tightly she held his hand, how badly he wished he could make her feel better, back to the laughter they’d shared before her ex interrupted their evening.

How blurry all the lines were becoming.

“Well,” she finally said, a soft chuckle slipping past her lips. “Maybe when this is all over, you can help me find one of those fellas.” She gave Roy’s hand another little squeeze. “That’s what friends are for, right, Roycito?”

Something tugged in Roy’s chest, the same tugging that he felt when Jamie expressed interest in the popstar, the same tugging he felt seeing her ex in the club. He didn’t know what it came from, or what the fuck it meant, but he knew this probably wouldn’t be the last time he felt it.

But instead of dwelling on figuring out what it was, Roy cleared his throat and offered what he hoped was a friendly grin. “Yeah, sunshine. That’s what friends are for.”

~

Roy stared at me with wide eyes when he opened the door and found me on his porch. “You… didn’t get my text.”

“Hello to you too, Kent,” I chuckled, brushing past him as I walked into the house. “What text?”

“OH. MY. GOSH!!”

On Roy’s living room couch sat a now screaming and bouncing little blonde. I recognized her from the photos I’d seen on previous visits to Roy’s house, as well as the lockscreen on his phone. While I had a ton of nephews and nieces to keep track of, assuring Roy that he didn’t need to learn their names until he met them later that summer, he only had one sweet little human to remember: Phoebe.

Phoebe, who was now sprinting over to me with a smile so large I was surprised it didn’t bounce off her face. “You’re here!” she shrieked, bouncing on her toes. “Uncle Roy, she’s-”

“You want some water?” Roy asked me pointedly, eyes shifting towards the little girl. “Pheebs can get you a glass.”

Taking the hint, I cleared my throat and nodded. “Oh, yes, that would be great.” I offered what I hoped was my kindest smile. “Thank you so much, Phoebe.”

She looked as though God himself had spoken to her. “She knows my name,” she murmured, turning towards the kitchen in a little daze.

Immediately Roy whirled around on me. “Her mum got called into work,” he whispered quickly. “She’s with me for the night.” He glanced towards the kitchen; we could hear her rummaging around for a glass. “I… hadn’t planned on introducing you two,” he admitted. “So I had texted you asking about canceling tonight.”

My mouth was dry. Meeting each other’s friends, coworkers, and exes was one thing. But we hadn’t exactly discussed our families. Families weren’t supposed to happen, at least not until my niece’s quince. And by that time, we’d have had ample opportunity to discuss how it would go, plus the attention would be on the birthday girl rather than us. We were absolutely not ready for this.

“I can go.” It was the proper thing to offer. The right thing.

Roy held my gaze steadily, the gears in his head clearly spinning. Finally, he sighed and waved me into the house. “It’s too late now,” he chuckled wryly. “Your little fan already saw you. She’d murder me in my sleep if she found out I let you leave.” He shrugged as he led me to the couch. “Already bought everything for that risotto I promised you anyway,” he added as Phoebe padded in, holding up a glass of water like it was a sacred object.

“Thanks, Phoebe,” I said with a wink to the little girl, immediately reminded of my own nieces. “Hope it’s alright if I hang out with you and your uncle Roy tonight. I heard he’s making risotto for dinner.”

Her squeal could wake the dead. “Really? That’s perfect. We can watch a movie, Uncle Roy said we could watch the old Freaky Friday.”

I cocked an eyebrow at Roy, whose eyes sparkled ever so slightly as he took in the joy and excitement on his niece’s face. “Freaky Friday, huh?” I grinned. “I love Jodie Foster.”

Phoebe’s face wrinkled in confusion. “No, the old one. With Lindsay Lohan.”

A snort flew out of Roy’s mouth when he saw the way my face paled. “Welcome to being old,” he teased, shooting me a wink. “I’ll be sure to order you a walker and a hearing aid. Should make your concerts loads of fun.”

“Don’t you have risotto to make?”

Within a half hour, the three of us were comfortable on Roy’s couch, risotto in hand and Lindsay Lohan on the television. Phoebe sat between us, that big smile never leaving her face. She kept glancing up at me, as if she wanted to say something, but then she’d glance at Roy and then direct her attention back to the movie.

Finally, about halfway through the movie, words came out of her mouth. “Are you and Uncle Roy really dating?”

I nearly choked on my risotto. Those little eyes were gazing up at me with pure curiosity, begging me to answer the question. I looked over her head at Roy, who was staring at me with the tiniest smirk on his face, clearly nothing short of amused.

This was his niece. Why was I answering her question?

“Did your uncle Roy tell you that?” I asked slowly.

Phoebe shook her head. “My friends at school were talking about it,” she explained simply. “They’ve all been asking if it’s true and if I’ve gotten to meet you yet.” She turned to Roy. “Am I allowed to tell them we had dinner together?”

Roy nodded at me as he swallowed a bite of the ice cream we’d all grabbed after dinner. “Up to her.”

Immediately, Phoebe whirled back to me. “Sure,” I chuckled. What else was I supposed to say to those wide eyes and that chocolate-covered smile?

As soon as the movie ended, Phoebe had the remote in her hands and was queuing up another one. “Can we watch Parent Trap now?”

“It’s getting late,” I murmured, my eyes flickering to Roy. “I should be heading home.”

“You can sleep over.” Phoebe’s face was bright with excitement. “And Uncle Roy can make us pancakes in the morning!”

I blinked at Roy, who did not seem at all concerned about this idea. “Oh, well-”

“You can stay.” Roy shrugged casually. “I don’t mind.”

Clearly we were not at the point in our friendship where we could read each other’s minds yet. “Phoebe,” I said slowly, “could you go get me some more water?” The little girl scurried out with my glass, leaving me with her uncle. “I assume Phoebe sleeps in the guest room when she spends the night?”

Roy nodded. “Yeah, of-” Realization finally hit that bearded face. “Oh.” He nodded. “Fuck. Right.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about that.” He scrunched his face for a moment. “You can stay,” he repeated softly. “In my room. I’ll… I’ll sleep on the floor.” He shrugged, looking up at me again. “For the job, right?”

Something in my stomach tightened at the idea of sleeping in Roy Kent’s bed. But still, I swallowed hard and nodded. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Kent.” His eyebrows flew up. “I mean, your knees are already messed up. Would hate to ruin your back too. Besides-” I spoke quickly as Phoebe’s footsteps approached. “-we’re adults. We can manage ourselves.”

Neither of us said another word about the matter as we settled back in for the second movie. Somewhere in the middle, Phoebe fell asleep, her head pressed against my shoulder. When Roy caught sight of his niece, he immediately cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered as he moved to scoop her into his arms.

I quickly shook my head and helped him gather her sleeping form. “It’s fine,” I assured him. “Want some help tucking her in?”

Roy nodded and gestured for me to follow him to the guest room, the room I’d slept in a couple times now. I quickly tugged back the blankets so Roy could lay Phoebe down on the mattress and pull them back over her. I lingered by the door, watching him make sure she was snugly in bed. When he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, my mind wondered about later in the summer, when he’d come with me to California. How would he be with my nieces and nephews? The boys would flip out over him, that was for sure. But wow, Roy Kent had a gentleness with Phoebe that I didn’t expect. Would he be this sweet with my nieces? I rarely introduced men to my family, and on the couple occasions I did, they didn’t interact much with my nieces and nephews. Roy would be a nice change of pace-

What the fuck? I took a step back, tearing my eyes away from the sight of Roy Kent making sure a night light was plugged in near the bed. Nope, nope. Roy would be civil and polite, maybe a little friendly with my family, but that was it. Anything more would just be confusing for them when the ‘relationship’ ended.

And we didn’t want to confuse anyone, right?

Once the guest room light was off, Roy nodded to me. “I’ll grab your bag.” He backtracked to the living room and picked up the overnight bag I’d brought, the one I usually took straight to the guest room. Instead, Roy carried it to his bedroom while I followed at a small distance.

On the few times I’d been over, Roy’s bedroom door had remained firmly shut. Now, I walked in, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed, the bed I’d be sleeping in, next to Roy. Instead, I focused on his dresser, his nightstand, his laundry basket, literally anything but the bed.

At least Roy looked just as uncomfortable as he handed me my bag. “You can change in the bathroom,” he mumbled, nodding to another closed door.

“Thanks.”

It felt way too soon when I came out and stood next to his bed, pretending not to notice the way he glanced at my bare legs. We both silently climbed into the bed, taking care not to move around too much or get too close to one another. After a pair of rushed “good nights”, we turned our backs to each other and remained silent until sleep claimed us.

I expected awkwardness. I expected silence and not being able to make eye contact.

But I didn’t expect Roy’s arm to be so warm wrapped around me in the morning.

My back was still to him, the way I’d laid the night before, but he had shifted during the night into a spooning position. And I’d apparently allowed myself to scooch back into his embrace, resting my arm on top of his.

Before I could figure out the least perceptible way to remove myself from his grip, Roy stirred, waking slowly at first, but quickly realizing the position we were in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, removing his arm and taking his warmth with him. He sat up, rubbing his tired face with his hand. “I didn’t- I mean-”

“It’s cool,” I assured him, tightening the blankets around myself. “Don’t worry about it.”

Roy nodded absently, staring down at me for a moment. “I…” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Pheebs is probably waking up,” he murmured, as though that was what he meant to say in the first place. “I’ll go make some pancakes.” He climbed out of bed, shaking his head, reminding me of my grandmother’s dog. “You can, uh, get dressed in here. Come out when you’re ready.” With an absent little nod, he was gone.

I laid in bed- his bed- and stared up at the ceiling. Why was my heart pounding so fast? And why was my stomach in knots? And why couldn’t I stop picturing Roy, all tender with his little niece? Why couldn’t I stop imagining the way his arms felt wrapped around me, on our dates, when he kissed me, when I woke up-

“Shit,” I groaned, grabbing one of his pillows and smothering my face with it.

Was I falling for Roy fucking Kent?

~

Roy sat on his couch, staring at the television but not really noticing the show that played on the screen. His mind was at Nelson Road, running through his lineup and plays and everything he knew about the team they’d be facing the next day. They’d had a good season, he reminded himself. Jamie and Sam were at the top of their game, and the rest of the fellas followed their lead. They were going to win, he assured himself with an absent nod. Surely, they’d win. With tomorrow’s victory they’d win the whole fucking thing.

His mobile vibrated next to him, interrupting his racing thoughts. Sunshine, the screen read. He smirked to himself, remembering when she’d grabbed his phone and changed her contact name after taking a selfie together at the Crown and Anchor, the selfie that was now her contact photo. Something in him liked seeing it light up his phone.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft and gruff.

“Kent,” she hummed. “What’re you up to? Relaxing before tomorrow’s game?”

He slouched onto his couch, realizing he’d spent the last hour with a reality show playing on his screen while he paid zero attention to it. “Something like that. Yourself?”

Sydney meowed somewhere in the background. “Resting up before tomorrow’s celebrations.” Her voice was light and teasing; Roy could practically see her smile. “I’ve been partying with you Greyhounds for weeks. I can only imagine how wild you’ll all be after the big win.”

“Assuming we win,” Roy grunted.

“You’re going to win, Roycito.”

That little name brought a wide smile to his face; he wondered if she was picturing it. “You sound pretty fucking confident for someone who still calls it ‘soccer’, sunshine,” he teased.

Her twinkling laughter rang in his ear. “I’ve been watching you guys for weeks, remember? The guys are incredible, even I can see that. And I don’t know much, but from what I hear you’re a pretty amazing coach.” Her voice was gentle as she spoke. “I believe in you, Roy.”

Those five words were still flittering in Roy’s mind the next day, for the ninety minutes his team ran themselves ragged on the pitch. His voice was nearly hoarse from the nonstop shouting he’d been doing, and his eyes hurt from scarcely blinking. And fuck, his knee was starting to kill him, but he refused to sit for even a second.

But the moment the referee blew his final whistle, it was all worth it. He jumped around the pitch with his team, knee be damned, surrounded by the shouts and cheers of their ever-loyal fans. After hoisting the trophy in the air and watching the Greyhounds pass it around, Roy found himself back on the ground, wondering where Keeley had gotten to. Surely, she’d want to congratulate him, he thought. Surely-

“Roycito!”

His heart stopped for a second, seeing the most famous popstar in the world jogging towards him, confetti in her hair and a smile on her face. She threw her arms around him and pressed close to him, engulfing him in the now-familiar scent of her fruity perfume. He squeezed her tight, chuckling at the feeling of her custom Greyhounds jacket, the one with the giant number six on the back. She’d been excited to show it to him, sending him photos the moment it arrived. He had to admit- it looked damn good on her.

Knowing that there were cameras everywhere, many of them trained on him and the woman in his arms, Roy cradled her face in his hands and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips to hers gently. She smiled into the kiss, so sweetly he almost believed it. She tasted like the beer she’d probably been drinking all game long and felt so warm pressed against him. For a moment, he forgot all about the cameras, the cheers, everything but her and her taste and her smiles.

Fuck, he thought as her tongue flickered for a brief moment against his lips. If Roy wasn’t careful, he might actually start believing that this was love.

~

~

The club was pulsating with music and people dancing and drinking. Roy’s arm was loose and casual around my shoulder as we entered the party. He was clearly on cloud nine, walking lighter than I’d ever seen him. We were greeted with shouts and cheers from the Greyhounds who spotted us, who’d clearly already begun drinking. Someone shoved a shot in my hand; when I glanced over, I saw Roy had one too.

With a wide grin, the kind I didn’t know Roy could have, he tapped his little glass to mine and downed the alcohol. Unable to contain my own smile, I followed suit, shivering a little as the tequila slid down my throat.

After a few dances together, I found myself sitting in a little corner with Roy, who looked incredibly relaxed as he sipped yet another drink. He smiled at me, a little sloppy with his crooked smile and dreamy look in his eyes, and chuckled at nothing in particular.

Fuck, he was doing nothing to help this stupid little crush.

Maybe it was the alcohol in my system, or maybe it was my way of distracting myself from how damn good the man looked, but I couldn’t help the way my mouth opened and I blurted out, “Hey Kent, I’m sorry you have to spend tonight with me.”

His face was almost cartoonishly confused. “The fuck are you on about?” he scoffed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes bore into mine.

“I mean…” I shook my head. “This is a big night for you, you know? And instead of spending it with- with a real girlfriend, or someone special, you’re spending it pretending with me. It must… kind of suck. Not getting to celebrate with someone who matters to you.”

Roy frowned, thinking for a moment before opening his mouth and speaking slowly. “I’m fucking glad you’re here,” he said plainly. “You and I… we’re friends. Real friends, I think. And that means you matter to me.” He placed a hand on my knee and gave the tiniest squeeze. “So, I am celebrating with someone who matters to me. Alright?”

Thankfully, the dark lighting hid what I was sure was a furious blush. “Alright,” I conceded. “For what it’s worth, you matter to me too, Kent.” I covered his hand with mine. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me too, sunshine.” He planted a kiss on my cheek. “Me too.”

~

Roy couldn’t believe how fucking happy he was. He was on top of the world, taking shots with his team, wearing these stupid matching tracksuits Keeley insisted on ordering for them, dancing with a beautiful singer. It felt like nothing could touch him; his knee could fall off for all he cared, and the next season felt ages and ages away. Hell, even the fact that there were cameras all over the place didn’t bother him. It was probably the alcohol, but for the first time he didn’t feel like he was putting any effort into the PDA he was expected to partake in. He pulled her close for dances, kissed her forehead freely, kept giving her what he was sure was the stupidest smile. And it just. Felt. Natural.

He sat with his arm around her, laughing and rolling his eyes at something stupid Jamie was saying. He snuck a glance at her, taking in the sight of her throwing her head back as giggles tumbled out of her mouth, a sight he was finding he really enjoyed.

“You two’re adorable,” Jamie slurred, shaking his head at the pair. “Seriously, don’t know the last time I saw Grandad this happy.”

Those bright eyes sparkled at Roy. “Roycito, are you happy?” she purred, peppering kisses on his warm face. Her laughter twinkled in his ear. “Shit, got some of my lipstick on you.” She reached up to wipe his cheek, but he caught her wrist.

Not knowing quite what came over him- probably the alcohol, he reasoned- he offered her his most flirtatious smirk, the one he hadn’t worn in a long fucking time. “Why don’t you add some more, sunshine?”

It was almost invisible, the way her smile faltered. For a moment, Roy sobered up, wondering if he’d gone too far, flirted too hard. But the tiny, almost imperceptible waver in her bravado quickly faded, giving way to a coy smile and batting eyelashes. “Anything for my champion.” She returned to his cheek, leaving a trail of kisses down his bearded face.

“Alright,” Jamie groaned, standing up with a slap to his thighs. “’m done being a third wheel. Gonna go find April before you two decide to put on a live sex show, ya perverts.”

Neither one of them acknowledged Jamie’s departure. Instead, she giggled in Roy’s ear as he tried not to react to how admittedly good her lips felt against his skin. After a couple firm kisses to his jaw, she pulled back, laughter tumbling past her now smudged lips.

“You’re a fucking mess,” she declared. She pulled out her phone and turned on the camera, pulling him close to show him her handiwork. Sure enough, his face was covered in her lipstick kisses. If he didn’t know any better, he’d be incredibly turned on by the idea of being marked up so brazenly. As he tried to hold back laughter, she made a silly little face and snapped a couple of pictures. Roy made a mental note to ask her to send them to him later.

They had fun together, Roy thought as he watched her giggle at the photos. And not just while drinking and taking selfies, either. Even just sitting in parks reading side by side made Roy feel… happy. Fucking content. Maybe they could try hanging out like normal people now that the season was over. No tweets or Instagram posts, no paparazzi, just two friends, enjoying each other’s company. Surely, she’d say yes, right? She agreed, they were friends now. Friends who spent the night at each other’s houses and covered each other’s faces with kisses and pretended to be in love, but friends nonetheless.

“You better post that.” Keeley plopped down beside him, smiling at the popstar. “Fucking adorable and hot. And it looks candid.” She winked at Roy. “You two’re doing a great job.”

Job. For some reason, that word hit Roy like a punch to the gut. Right, this was a job. They were going through this whole charade- because that’s what this was, a charade- for their careers. Sure, they were making the best of it by enjoying each other’s company, but at the end of the day, he needed to remember that this was work. That in a few months, they’d part ways and… what? Never speak again? Remain distant friends? Watch each other move on to real relationships? He wasn’t sure why the idea left him with a dry mouth and a twisted stomach.

Deciding he needed to shake that feeling out of himself, he gazed at Keeley, who was still grinning at him. Fuck, she looked happy, her hair wild and her face flushed from all the drinking, that Greyhounds tracksuit hugging her the way Roy wished he could. What the fuck did Keeley think when she looked at him? Did she feel the same pang, the same wistfulness? Did she see nothing but something she was glad to be done with? Or, fuck, something she wished she’d never done at all?

Keeley’s smile faltered as she glanced behind him, at the popstar who probably wasn’t used to being ignored. “You two should dance,” she suggested, nodding to the singer. “Be real cute, yeah?”

Fuck. He was so damn obvious, it was embarrassing. “Right, yeah.” Roy turned to the singer, who quickly dropped the frown she had been wearing. “Want to dance, sunshine?”

She plastered on that smile- not the cute, natural one she often wore when they hung out, but that too big, bright one that he saw when the paparazzi were around. If something was wrong, she sure as hell wasn’t talking about it. At least not with Roy.

“Let’s go, Kent,” she said flatly. “Publicist’s orders.”

No matter how silly Roy tried to be on the dancefloor, he couldn’t quite bring back her real smile. And for some reason, it was fucking killing him. After a couple of songs passed without much change, Roy felt tired of seeing this mask she wore. He excused himself and made his way over to the DJ, mumbled a few words over the music, and returned to a curious-looking popstar. At least curiosity was better than the fake smiles.

“You make a request?”

Roy shrugged, tugging her back to himself. “My guilty pleasure song,” he answered. “Whenever Phoebe plays it, i get it stuck in my head for fucking days.”

She scrunched her nose at him as she tilted her head. “What song-”

When a twangy pop tune blasted and filled the club, she threw her head back and rolled her eyes, laughter spilling from her lips.

“Kent. You fucking didn’t.”

 You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upsetShe's going off about something that you said'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

“What can I say?” Roy chuckled. “I fucking love this song.”

Whatever negativity she seemed to be feeling dissipated, giving way to soft giggles as she danced close to Roy. He couldn't help the way he gripped her hips and sang along to the song his niece frequently requested in the car; he knew every fucking word. However many times he’d heard it, he never in a million years imagined he’d be here, holding its singer close and drunkenly shouting the lyrics at each other.

And he especially never imagined he’d like it so damn much.

~

~

For the second time in the past few weeks, I sat on Keeley Jones’s couch with sunglasses on my face and coffee in my hands. This time, however, I didn’t feel an ounce of regret. Instead, I relished the fact that Roy looked as miserable as I felt after a night of drinking and dancing and celebrating with the Greyhounds. He slouched beside me as Keeley yammered on about how we’d trended on social media during and after the match, with videos and photos of us floating around on every major platform. As she gushed over a particular clip of Roy and me dancing at the team celebration, he reached over and took my coffee, helping himself to a generous gulp before slipping it back into my hand with ease.

It was scary how natural it felt.

“Now, it wasn’t all positive,” Lanie interjected. Always the optimist, my publicist. “There were of course some people that were all over that photo of Roy and Keeley-”

“The photo I took and posted,” I snorted.

Roy nudged me. “Not jealous, are you, sunshine?”

I smirked back. “You wish, Kent.”

Before he could open his mouth and retort, Keeley snapped her fingers. “Oi. There’s also the little issue of people thinking this whole thing is a PR stunt.”

“It is a PR stunt,” Roy and I said in unison.

A playful snort flew out of Lanie’s nose. “Spending enough time together, you two?” She shook her head and turned her attention back to her tablet. “Now, obviously, we know this is PR. But we need everyone else to believe this thing is the real deal.” She paused, biting her lip. “Now that Roy’s season is over, we’d like to see you two go on holiday together. Something cute, somewhere you could take lots of photos. Preferably somewhere you could be seen.”

Roy raised his eyebrows at me. “You’ve got somewhere tropical and fabulous in mind, I assume?”

I shook my head. “You pick, Kent,” I urged. “You had a long season, you just won your championship, you deserve this.” I shrugged. “Just tell me where we’re going so I know what to pack.”

A look passed between Roy and Keeley, something unreadable that made me blush and look away. Finally, Roy cleared his throat and nodded at me, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Doing my best to not stare at that little smile, reminding myself that I had no reason or excuse to kiss him in Keeley’s office in front of our publicists, I turned back to Lanie and cleared my throat. “Alright, so vacation together. What else?” I smirked. “Want me to write him an album or something?”

Instead of chuckling along like Lanie and Roy did, Keeley perked up, eyes bright and mouth wide. “That’s an amazing idea, babes!” she declared.

In an instant, Roy’s brows were furrowed. “You’re fucking joking. You can’t possibly ask her to write an album- that’s insane-”

“She doesn’t have to write one for real,” Keeley quickly clarified. “At least, not a new one.” She turned back to me. “You don’t release every song you write, I assume? Some of them stay in, like, a vault of some kind?” When I nodded tentatively, she went on, “You could take some of those songs, rework them, play with them a bit, and bam, one love album dedicated to Mister Roy Kent, proof of your undying love for him.”

Before I could even comprehend what she had just proposed, Roy sat up, shaking his head. “Keeley. She doesn’t have to do that.” His mouth was in a straight line as he shifted to face me. “Your songs, they’re probably personal, about your life. You absolutely do not have to butcher them for me, for any of this.”

The look on Roy’s face had my tense shoulders relaxing. His voice was so firm and reassuring at the same time. With his fists balled and his face stony, he looked… protective. Protective of me and my work. It felt good, having a man in my corner- especially this man. I didn’t think anyone I’d dated before, at least recently, would shield me like that. A warmth bubbled in my chest, bringing a smile to my lips that I couldn’t quite bury.

“I can do it,” I assured him. Quickly reminding myself of the other people in the room, I directed my gaze to Lanie and Keeley. “Gimme some time. I’ll get a few songs recorded, and we can release it during the tour. I can make it work.”

While Keeley’s smile was wide and excited, Lanie’s expression was more guarded, her eyes scanning my face knowingly. “You’re sure?” she asked in that skeptical voice I knew too well.

Stealing one more glance at Roy, taking in the concern in his eyes, I nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@charkachow@mrdsturd @littlepinapple @sunfairyy @shadowzena43 @uhmidkmuch @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme

[nincompoopydoo]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ  nincompoopydoo // DCEU MASTERLIST

bruce wayne

⋆ pining, bagels, repeat [series]: you and Bruce’s relationship resides in a gray area between friends and friends that sleep together but the two of you have been pining over each other ever since the agreement began. ⋆ returned love: in the early hours after the Black Zero Event, Bruce is called to the Metropolis General Hospital as your last resort of an emergency contact. he arrives with a deafening expectancy to not only your condition but to seeing you after so long and when things ended badly. ⋆ exchanged smiles: you wield magical powers but only used them for street magic to earn a living. Bruce Wayne makes it a point to get you to join the Justice League. also, you’re pretty cute.

barry allen

⋆ assignment buddies: teacher-assigned pairs for a weekly assignment are already difficult enough to deal with but it gets tougher when you’re paired up with Barry Allen, a guy you’ve grown an infatuation with over the semesters and classes you shared with him.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Best Part of the Day

Prompt Day 17: Platonic Stobin | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: S4, Platonic Stobin, Ride to School, Pre-Steddie

Steve honks the horn, and sips from his mug of coffee. It won't fit in his cup holder, so he has to rest it on his thigh. He honks again, and a minute later Robin rushes out of the front door of her house, towards his waiting car.

Arms flailing, she screams, "Hold on, I'm coming!" 

It makes Steve chuckle. She's the one about to be late to school, not him. He's graduated. Family Video doesn't open for another two plus hours. He's got plenty of time to kill this morning, but he knows she doesn't want the tardy. He knows her like the back of his hand. The front of his hand? 

His whole hand. For sure.

Robin fumbles with the trunk, and he watches as she unlocks it. It was just easier to give her the damn spare key instead of him having to get out every morning and unlock it.

She finally piles into the front seat, with a huff, "What are we waiting for? You're gonna make me late, dingus!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Good morning to you, too," he says, handing her his mug of coffee. He might as well. She's gonna take it from him, sooner or later. She always does. He opens the console, and hands her the bagel that he's wrapped in a paper towel, before leaning to look back over his shoulder, reversing them back onto the street. 

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, and she's alternating between drinking coffee, and eating the bagel. Getting sesame seeds all over the floor mat. He'll have to stop by the car wash and vacuum it after he drops her off.

"There's an away game tonight," she says, done with the bagel, and now holding his coffee in one hand, putting her mascara on with the other. He watches, not sure how she's doing it one-handed.

"Yeah, the kids have told me a thousand times, like I've somehow suddenly forgotten how a basketball schedule works since graduating," Steve says, annoyed.

"I have to ride the activity bus to the game, but if you can forge me a note again, I'll ride home with you. Dibs on the front seat," she says.

Steve laughs. He's been roped into taking Dustin, Mike and Max, and Dustin's gonna hate that she's called dibs, but fair is fair. Dustin can have the front seat on the way to Hartford City. 

They head down the highway, and Robin tells him about her morning. He nods, listens, and analyzes more about Vickie than he ever imagined possible. It's a ritual at this point. She pines. He gives advice she won't take.

They argue. They banter. 

Rinse, repeat. 

Day after day, morning after morning.

But it's often the best part of his day.

He's trying to explain exactly why she should just go for it, when Steve catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and realizes they're about to be broadsided by a van, that as far as Steve can tell, has no driver.

Steve slams on the brakes, stopping short as the van whips onto the highway from a side road, cutting him off. The driver's head just barely popping into view, mere seconds before he needed to make the turn.

"Watch it, asshole!" Steve screams, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. 

"Uh, Steve?" Robin says, and he turns to look at her, and she's wearing the coffee. Brown splotches staining her white blouse, running all over his leather seats. 

"Are you hurt? Did you get burned?" he asks, patting her arm down, like that'll help.

"Well, it doesn't feel great! But I think I'll live," she says. "But I don't have time to go back home and change, I'm going to be so late. Detention for me, yay," she says sarcastically.

"Take off your shirt," Steve says, and she cuts him a look, "Not like that, Jesus, Robin. I don't want to see your boobies."

He snaps his fingers, and gives her the hurry up motion.

So, she does, and he takes off his shirt, too, and stretches his hand out to offer it to her. She takes it, and slips it over her head. It's too big, but she says she doesn't care, because that's the style, apparently.

"Thanks, dingus," she says, and he slides his arms back through the holes of his vest. No shirt underneath. He looks ridiculous.

At the school, they both get out, and Robin digs out her notepad, and turns around. Steve lays the notebook on her back, and writes the note, forging Mrs. Buckley's signature to get Robin off the activity bus on the way home. 

"There, done," he says, swatting her on the back with the notebook, and she takes it and rushes towards the building, turning back towards him.

"Thanks, Steve! See you tonight!" she yells and then she turns and runs away from the parking lot faster.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but he smiles as she goes.

"Nice fashion statement, Harrington," Eddie Munson interrupts, as he climbs out of the same goddamn van that caused this whole problem in the first place. He should have known Eddie "The Freak" Munson was involved.

Steve looks down at his bare chest.

"Well, I had a shirt until you cut us off and Robin spilled coffee all over herself," Steve snaps.

"I don't know what you're talking about, that doesn't sound like me at all. I'm a great driver," Eddie says, digging around and coming up with a black, metal lunchbox.

His drugs. Steve knows all about Eddie, and his dealing business.

"Yeah, sure you are," Steve snips, turning to get into the driver's seat. He has no interest in engaging with Eddie Munson at ten 'til eight in the morning. No goddamn way.

"Nice to see you, King Steve," Eddie snarks, walking awfully slowly towards the school for someone that nearly ran them off the road to get here today.

What a dickhead.

Notes: Eddie definitely saw Steve in that no-shirt/vest combo and when presented with the opportunity to see it again in the Upside Down, and in his own vest no less, he took it, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[two-sides-halved]

"I'm just making sure... cause I've seen how miserable Sadie was having to cover for Lars all the time... Lars was someone who was a user, a manipulator... someone who couldn't give his all truthfully to her... and it only took him literally dying out in space to be enlightened on how much of a shit head he was..." Gem Steven sighed, "I just get worried ok?" He let out a small huff.

"Well that's what Mayor Nanafua had called him and I didn't hear him correct her. So I've just intergraded it into my believe system. "Yea, I know... especially when Steven's like willing to take the blame of all of this stuff happening when he didn't know that any of it would happen." Gem Steven let out a soft sigh. "And that's simply why he lost his job, because why the fuck would you make this teenager feel bad about him, and that teenager is just the sweetest fucken kid in the whole town." He explained.

"I don't have anyone in mind that would tag along because everyone I know that enjoys my company is busy... But I don't know if she'd just drop on by because you're some version of Beach Summer Fun Buddies with her like she is with Steven." Gem Steven replied. "That and I was just stating an IF scenario... solely because I'm always thinking if things go belly up to be more prepared for if it comes up."

"No, I don't. Human Steven's girlfriend lives in the words, she's more like a best friend and a sister in law of sorts even through they aren't married... I think Human Steven's scared she'd say no, and Connie doesn't want to take away the ability by just doing it herself... mainly because he's more particular about that thing, like he'd want it to be just as romantic as it can be while I just imagine Connie would roll in one night and say, "Steven are you awake?.... wanna get hitched?" in like the most casual tone like if she were asking if he wanted cream cheese on a bagel." He continued. "I'm still single as hell... mainly because I feel like I should focus on this pocket of spaghetti I call my mental health and try to get that sorted out so I don't end up fucking it up when I do get out their on the dating scene."

He paused. "Like that makes sense right? I'm not just self sabotaging by wanting to work on myself somehow right??" He took a deep breath as he looked at the ground, before seeing a cluster of ants surrounding a mount before it was revealed to be Steven's head and he just chuckled nervously, moving a little faster away from the hallucination not wanting to pay it any mind. "God damn it, why didn't i listen to dad when he said i couldn't watch it... why did my dumb ass self think that was a god damned challenge like yea i can watch it I have eyeball to watch what ever i want."

"Anyway moving alone from any relationship talk uhhh... mmm so camp pining hearts is what gave you the idea of camping in the first place... any particular episode kinda make you really feel that interest or was it like the first episode right out of the gate.... cause I know that Peridot watched the entire episode on repeat for like 12 hours straight not knowing there was more than the first episode."

Continued | @erisdiamas

"Again, using the term, phobia would imply that I am afraid of her, which I'm not. I hate her not because she's a Lapis but because she is factually horrible, she's an abuser of people, and animals, she's a manipulative piece of garbage who everyone was tip toing around because we didn't wanna upset the precious scared little girl who is over 5000 fucking years old... but because we handled her with these delicate kid gloves she never really changed into a better person like other people in the Little Homeschool program did... hell she's even been shirking her fucking responsibilities as a teacher... by kinda just telling them to go with the flow and then she'd fly off to who knows where... lazy asshole."

Gem Steven squinted at her as if he heard her incorrectly, picking up Eris and placing her on the couch, to get a reasonable distance away from her so he wouldn't end up hurting her fingers when she played with his hands.

"EXCUSE YOU?? Why the fuck would you think I would enjoy watching anyone nearly loose their life in front of me? I've already failed an entire planet's worth of people once, I failed Dad." He is crossing his arms.

"And you of all people... think I'd get aroused by that fucked up shit?? Fucking hell, Eris, you must be huffing paint thinner to think that is in anyway what I would like at all." He huffed irritated, tears in his eyes, looking away from her, his fists clenched, stomping his way to the kitchen to get himself something to shove into his face before see says something he'd regret. "If the misnaming was ALL I had to deal with... I wouldn't have such a fucking problem with her... I'd just say, ah she's annoying if she doesn't remember your name but she's good people BUT SHE FUCKING ISN'T!! Any time that the tough got going, she went gone... she ran away... she didn't believe in this planet, yet had the nerve to call it home instead of LITERALLY ANY OTHER COLONY OUT THERE IN SPACE!... But no, she chose to abuse and fester here like an untreated infection... and we just dealt with her like she was a misbehaving toddler, who didn't know how the world worked cause we didn't wanna upset her... and now she thinks she can do whatever she fucking wants." Gem Steven replied shoveling some of last nights reheated left overs into his face, thankful for the subject change.

"It's Sadie Killer and the Suspects... and they broke up a few months ago." Gem Steven replied with a disgruntled huff, shoveling another spoon full of foo into his face, chewing thoroughly, before swallowing "Sadie went off and formed a new band with her new partner named Shep... Shep's a chill person... I'm happy for them." He said in a notably bittersweet tone, being the hopeless romantic with the emphasis on hopeless.

"Well that's because Peridot is genuinely nice to be around... and if you were born on Homeworld, Rose might not have known that human's sweat... plus Gems themselves don't really sweat either. Plus you're half human so you'd have a whole bunch of powers she wouldn't have access too." He replied, with a mumble through his half chewed food.

"She wouldn't have known about half of the shit you'd go through... hell if she were here she'd be so much better at this whole parent shit than I am..." He huffed taking a big drink directly out of the jug of milk that was nearly gone anyway. "Guilty... I wouldn't doubt it was yours anyway..." He huffed into his nearly empty food bowl. "Most of the plants I make just try to rip me to shreds." He replied, before he yelped as she was practically dragging him out. "Eris, slow down!"

[imaddicted2hs]

PART 3

Guess who decided to post part 3 lmao. I finally got the time to post so here you go. i know the story line is quick and stuff but I'm trying to improve so I hope you like ittt.

(I have fever so spare my bad editing woops)

Word count: 1.9k

warnings: None

read part 2 here

Happy Reading

-----------;3-----------

She isn't answering her phone. He couldn't find her anywhere either in the class yesterday. At first he thought maybe she was on a leave but not showing up for two classes straight which are not even consecutive? It's so not her and that's what had him doubting himself and worrying about her. Did he cross a line when he thought she would have wanted to tutor him or did she not like him? Harry wasn't the one to overthink about something that happened or beat himself up but she had him questioning his behavior. It's been long since he have felt like this and it scared him. A girl who he first saw made quite an impression on him. He still remembers how she looked frustrated but cute because she was really short compared to him and her anger was anything but intimidating. It made him feel silly things in the inside when he managed to get her flustered unintentionally. She was soft according to him and the thought of anything bad happening to the innocent girl made him uneasy.

His heart won't settle for anything less than having a talk with her and being sure that she was okay. So that's why he found himself in the cafeteria searching for the girl Y/n usually eats lunch with. As he walks around looking for the familiar face he notices that the place is not at all crowded today. Before he can feel upset about how he might not find her, the tall girl with black hair catches his eyes and a relief washes over him. She is sitting alone with her headphones plugged in as Harry approaches her. "Excuse me" he let's out a little louder coming in front of her and waving his hand so that she can see him if not hear him. "Uh hey, can I help ya with something?" she responds without removing the headphones. "Yeah hey M' Harry Y/n's friend. I haven't seen her since Tuesday and she hasn't answered her phone either. Do you happen to know where she is?" "No, no I don't have her number or anything because we are just lunch buddies but I remember her telling me about where she lives." "Great so can you tell me?" He asks her impatiently as he finally got some lead. "And why would I do that? What if you are some sort of creep" she squints her eyes at him because Y/n never mentioned knowing a Harry guy. "Oh cmonnnn" he grumbles as he tries to think of a way in which he can convince her. "I can show you our chat because she said we can meet up for tutoring." "Oh wait yeah! I remember she told me she was going to tutor a guy. She lives on the pine Street, house number 190 I think, yeah" the girl says as she furrows her eyebrows while she tries to jog up her memory. "Great! Thank you so much" he flashes her a grin as he starts to walk away. He steps out of the university, repeating the address in his mind and he notices that she lives just 5 mins away from the store they bumped into once and approximately 15 mins away from his place. A thought of buying something for her to eat crosses his mind as he almost passes a bakery but his feet make an abrupt stop themselves. He stares at the bakery blankly for half a minute before he shakes his mind to get rid of the useless thoughts and start to make his way inside the small building smelling like fresh bread. As he scans his eyes through the glass containing every sort of sweet dish he can hear the quite murmuring and it's soothing he realizes. He finally settles on 2 chocolate muffins and a bagel because he really wants to see her. In no time he has the bag with his order in it as he carries himself out of the bakery and to her house.

It's the only gate that is different from the other dark oak gates. The house number is written on a house plate instead of the door and the colour of the door is blue. A dark shade of blue but still with a shiny appearance. As he brings up his hand in a fist, he hesitates a bit before knocking thrice on the door. He looks around impatiently while he taps his foot on the creaking white stairs. Just as he's about to knock again he hears the unlocking and his eyes try to sneak a peak from the crack as the door gets opened painfully slow. His eyes widen when he catches the sight of an extremely sweaty face and bloodshot eyes of none other than the short girl in front of him. Her reaction is nothing different because she is surprised too to find a guy she has known for a pretty short time standing at her doorstep looking very amused oh and with a brown paper bag in his hand. Before she can start speaking he beats her by rambling his concern. "What in the world happened Y/N? Are you okay? Cause you don't look okay you know but like you might have just woken up but the weather is not hot at all for you to look like you had a full workout sess- "Calm down Harry calm down oh my god. My head is pounding, slow down a bit. And first of all come inside, throwing questions at me on my doorstep isn't the smartest thing right now. I feel like I'll fall any second."

He acts quickly at that, entering the house as he supports her by taking her arm and putting it around his shoulder. He helps her walk towards the small brown couch in the right corner. He hears her wince as she tries to lay down and he feels pity. While she settles, he notices his surrounding in a quick glance before looking at the coffee table in front of him. A half filled water bottle catches his attention and he quickly reacts to fetch it and open the cap for Y/N. She gently takes the bottle from his hand and gulps the water in like three seconds. "Slow down love, we don't want you to choke on it now do we?" His eyes widen when he realizes that he worded it a bit wrong and he searches her face for the same reaction but sees that the poor girl in front of him is far too tired to even comprehend what he said. He let's out a sigh of relief as he sits down on the chair behind him. "Care to explain what's up with your poor condition?" He interrogates when she is finally at ease. "Oh uhm I have been feeling a bit feverish since the last 3-4 days, I have lost the count honestly." Her voice comes out raspy as if her throat was sore. "What? Why didn't you tell anyone Y/N? And why were you not picking up your phone. I spammed like 5 calls and 20 messages. You worried me." "I'm so sorry, I barely had energy to stand up from my bed to charge my phone or make myself something to eat. My neighbours don't really like me and my parents don't live here. Whom I would have called?" She replies him slowly. "Dear lord. So you are telling me, you have had fever for like 4 days and you didn't have anyone help you? Are you crazy? You could have called me Y/N. What if something would have happened? Thank god I decided to ask around for your address." Harry lectures her as she pouts looking at her fumbling hands. She knows he's right but she really was lonely. "You know what, I'm pretty sure you are too tired to even get my words inside that pretty little head of yours so here, I brought you muffins and a bagel. You need to eat this so that I can give you medicine afterwards. We can talk about it later, do you mind telling me where you keep the pills and stuff?" He talks loudly as he stands up and starts moving around in the house. "They are in the third cabinet under the sink." She quietly murmurs, distracted by the fresh smell of chocolate and butter in the bag. She wastes no time in grabbing a big bite. As Harry approaches her with a glass of water and pills in his hand, he can't help but smile faintly at the sight. He clears his throat which gets him a glance from her finally. She let's out a small "thank you" which comes out muffled because her mouth is stuffed with the delicious bagel. This causes him to chuckle a bit as he settles the glass on the table. "For now I'll let you eat this peacefully, have the medicine and sleep. Because once you are awake and better, you are explaining yourself missy." She nods at this not able to look him in the eyes because she's too embarrassed. He looks as good as always and she looks like a sick homeless person. The sick part is true but who would want an attractive guy to find them in their worst condition. "Before you start overthinking, yes you look miserable but cute and I don't mind at all because I look worse than that when I'm sick." He chuckles as she glares at him definitely shocked because he basically scanned her brain. In no time she finishes her food, takes the medicine and gets settled in her bed where harry had to carry her because her legs felt like jelly and he didn't miss the slightly flustered girl because his smirk was cocky. "Take rest okay? And if you need anything, just shout my name, I'll be outside only."

"What? Why? Don't you have classes Harry? Plus you already did so much for me even tho it's not your responsibility." She furrows her eyebrows at him totally confused because of his kind gesture. "I did it because you deserve to be taken care of alright? And since you don't have anyone to do that for you, I want to help you. And before you open your mouth to say thank you, it was my pleasure. I didn't mind at all." He gives her a weak smile as she returns the action after mouthing a thank you. "Now cmon, sleep well. When you wake up, I might just have a surprise for you." He winks at her as he starts to walk towards the door. "Then I can't wait to wake up." She flashes a grin at him. "Yeah and for that you need to sleep first dummy so now don't waste time and take a good nap. I'll see you hm?" She nods eagerly before he switches off the light for her and slowly shuts the door. He is smiling ear to ear while walking away from her bedroom. He knows he's fucked because of a girl he met like 6 days ago. It saddens him that she doesn't have anyone around even tho she's so sweet and it's too cliché he agrees but, is this what love at first sight feels like. Oh he can't wait to see what is planned for him ahead.

------------------------------------------

I wish you liked this cuz i kinda did, plus we haven't even reached to the best part yet and i cant wait to write it.

reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated!💋

[lynnbecksart]

A complete, very long list of all GBoard-combinable emojis because I can't find one anywhere.

Ok so for those who haven't seen my stuff (or have only seen my Bionicle posts), I sometimes emoji mashup redraws, with the recent fourth one using GBoard-based fusions. Frustratingly, there's no actual list of fusion-compatible emojis, so I'll attempt to compile them, in a list below the "Read More" thing:

Green/▢ = compatible with fusion Blue/△ = only works with certain emojis Red/◯ = not compatible with fusion

Also, since other people's terms for specific emojis might not match up with mine, I recommend using CTRL+F and then doing this to find the specific emoji you're looking for. This list is in the order presented in GBoard's Emoji menu. Some of them will be generic unicode symbols, I don't know how to change that, sorry for the inconvenience. Also, I won't aknowledge multi-category Emoji.

Smileys and Emoticons

😀Open-mouthed smile▢

😃Wide-eyed smile▢

😄Closed-eyed smile▢

😁Closed-eyed grin▢

😆Laughing▢

😅Sweating smile▢

😂Cry-laughing▢

🤣Cry-ROFLing▢

😭Crying▢

😗Kissing▢

😙Kissing, closed eyes▢

😚Kissing, blushing▢

😘Kissing, winking w/ heart▢

🥰Surrounded by hearts▢

😍Heart-eyes▢

🤩Star-eyes▢

🥳Noisemaker and party-hat▢

🤗Hugging▢

🙃Upside-down▢

🙂Smile▢

☺Blushing, smiling▢

😊Blushing▢

😏Looking off to the side▢

😌Relieved▢

😉Winking▢

🤭Hand over mouth▢

😶Nightmare fuel Mouthless▢

😐Neutral▢

😑-_-▢

😔Pensive▢

😋Licking lips▢

😛Tongue out▢

😝Tongue out, eyes closed▢

😜Tongue out, winking▢

🤪Tongue out, wide-eyed▢

🤔Hmmm▢

🤨Suspicious▢

🧐Monocle▢

🙄Rolling eyes▢

😒Unamused▢

😤Snorting▢

😠Angry▢

😡Angry, red▢

🤬Swearing▢

☹Frown▢

🙁Frown but less▢

😕Confused▢

😟Distraught▢

🥺Pleading▢

😳AWOOGA Flushed▢

😬Yikes▢

🤐Zip▢

🤫Shushing▢

😰Distraught, sweating▢

😧Distraught, shocked▢

😦Distraught, neutral▢

😮Open mouth▢

😯Open mouth, surprised▢

😲Shocked▢

😱Horrified▢

🤯Your head asplode Mind blown▢

😢Crying, single tear▢

😥Crying, less sad▢

😓Sweating▢

😞Dissapointed▢

😖Pained▢

😣Persevering▢

😩Weary▢

😫Tired▢

🤤Drooling▢

😴Sleeping▢

😪Sleeping but different?▢

🌛Left-facing moon▢

🌜Right-facing moon▢

🌚New moon face◯

🌝Full moon face◯

🌞The sun▢

🤢Queasy▢

🤮Vomiting▢

🤧Sneezing▢

🤒Unwell▢

🤕Bandaged▢

🥴Drunk▢

😵Dizzy▢

🥵Hot▢

🥶Cold▢

😷Masked up▢

😇Angel▢

🤠yee haw▢

🤑Money-tongue▢

😎Cool▢

🤓Nerd▢

🤥Lying▢

🤡Clown▢

👻Ghost▢

💩Poop▢

👽Ayy lmao Alien▢

🤖Robot▢

🎃Jack-o-Lantern▢

😈Demon 1▢

👿Demon 2▢

👹Oni◯

👺Tengu◯

☠Skull and crossbones▢

🔥Fire▢

💫Star with trail▢

⭐Star▢

🌟Star with bits▢

✨Stars▢

⚡Lightning◯

💥Explosion◯

💯100△

💢Anime anger symbol◯

💨Steam▢

💦Sweat Droplets▢

💤Zzz▢

🕳Hole▢

🎉Party popper▢

🎊Confetti ball▢

😺😸😹😻😼😽🙀😿😾Literally all the "cat in different emotions" emojis▢

❤🧡💛💚💙💜🖤Literally all the coloured hearts△

♥Heart suit▢

💘Heart with arrow▢

💝Heart with ribbon▢

💖Shiny heart▢

💗Growing heart▢

💓Beating heart▢

💞Swirling hearts▢

💕Two hearts▢

💌Love letter▢

💟Heart in square▢

❣Heart exclamation mark▢

💔Broken heart▢

💋Kiss▢

👥Two silhouettes◯

👤Silhouette◯

🗣Talking silhouette◯

👣Footprints◯

🧠Brain◯

🦠Microbe▢

🦷Tooth◯

🦴Bone◯

💀Skull▢

👀Eyes◯

👁Eye▢

👄Lips◯

👅Tongue◯

👃👂🦶🦵💪👍👎👏🙌👐Every other body part and hand gesture, seriously this isn't even all of them◯

People

Seriously, I don't know why none of the people-category emojis are Fusion-compatible. Let's just move on.◯

Animals and Nature

💐Bunch of flowers▢

🌹Rose▢

🥀Wilted rose◯

🌷Tulip▢

🌺Hibiscus flower◯

🌸Cherry blossom▢

🏵Rosette◯

🌻Sunflower◯

🌼Daisy▢

💮White flower◯

🍂Falling leaves◯

🍁Maple leaf◯

🌾Rice plants◯

🌱Seedling◯

🌿Herb◯

🍃Falling leaves again◯

☘3-leaf clover◯

🍀4-leaf clover◯

🌵Cactus▢

🌴Palm tree◯

🌳Deciduous tree◯

🌲Coniferous tree▢

🏞National park◯

⛰Mountain◯

🌊Wave◯

🌬Wind◯

🌀Tornado symbol◯

🌁Foggy scene◯

🌫Fog▢

🌪Tornado▢

☃Snowman (with snow)▢

⛄Snowman (without snow)▢

❄Snowflake

🏔Mountain with snow◯

🌡Thermometer◯

🌋Volcano◯

🏜Desert◯

🏝Desert island◯

🏖Beach◯

🌅Sunrise/set (water)◯

🌄Sunrise/set (mountains)◯

☀Sun▢

🌤Sun with cloud◯

⛅Sun and cloud◯

🌥Cloud with sun◯

🌦Sun and cloud with rain◯

☁Cloud▢

🌨Snowcloud◯

⛈Stormcloud◯

🌩Thundercloud◯

🌧Raincloud◯

💧Drop◯

☔Umbrella with rain◯

🌈Rainbow▢

✨Sparkles▢

🌙Crescent Moon◯

☄Comet◯

🌠Shooting star▢

🌌Milky Way◯

🌉Bridge◯

🌆City in the evening▢

🌃City at night▢

🌍🌏🌎Earth▢

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘The moon◯

🙈🙉🙊🐵Monkeys, wise or not▢

🦁Lion face▢

🐯Tiger face◯

🐱Cat face▢

🐶Dog face◯

🐺Wolf face◯

🐻Bear face▢

🐨Koala face▢

🐼Panda face▢

🐹Hamster face◯

🐭Mouse face◯

🐰Rabbit face▢

🦊Fox face◯

🦝Raccoon face◯

🐮Cow face◯

🐷Pig face▢

🐽Pig nose▢

🐗Boar head◯

🦓Zebra head◯

🦄Unicorn head▢

🐴Horse head◯

🐸Frog face◯

🐲Dragon head◯

🦎Lizard◯

🐉Dragon◯

🦖T-Rex◯

🦕Diplodocus◯

🐢Turtle▢

🐊Crocodile◯

🐍Snake◯

🐁Mouse▢

🐀Rat◯

🐇Rabbit▢

🐈Cat▢

🐩Poodle◯

🐕Dog◯

🐅Tiger◯

🐆Leopard◯

🐎Horse◯

🐖Pig▢

🐄Cow◯

🐂Bull◯

🐃Water buffalo◯

🐏Ram◯

🐑Sheep◯

🐐Goat▢

🦌Deer▢

🦙Llama▢

🦘Kangaroo◯

🐘Elephant◯

🦏Rhinoceros◯

🦛Hippopotamus◯

🦒Giraffe◯

🐒Monkey▢

🦍Gorilla◯

🐪🐫Camels◯

🐿Squirrel (why does the squirrel of all things have a Unicode symbol?)◯

🦡Badger◯

🦔Hedgehog▢

🦇Bat▢

🐓Cockerel/rooster◯

🐔Chicken◯

🐣🐥🐤Chicks◯

🐦Bird▢

🦉Owl▢

🦅Eagle◯

🦜Parrot◯

🕊Dove◯

🦢Swan◯

🦚Peacock◯

🦃Turkey◯

🦆Duck◯

🐧Penguin◯

🦈Shark◯

🐬Dolphin◯

🐋🐳Whales◯

🐟Fish▢

🐠Tropical fish◯

🐡Pufferfish◯

🦐Prawn◯

🦞Lobster◯

🦀Crab◯

🦑Squid◯

🐙Octopus▢

🦂Scorpion▢

🕷Spider▢

🕸Spiderweb◯

🐚Shell◯

🐌Snail▢

🐜Ant◯

🦗Grasshopper◯

🦟Mosquito◯

🐝Bee▢

🐞Ladybird◯

🦋Butterfly◯

🐛"Bug" yeah sure ok◯

🐾Pawprints◯

Food and Drink

🍓Strawberry▢

🍒Cherry◯

🍎Red apple◯

🍉Watermelon◯

🍑Peach◯

🍊Orange◯

🥭Mango◯

🍍Pineapple▢

🍌Banana◯

🍋Lemon▢

🍈Melon◯

🍏Green apple◯

🍐Pear◯

🥝Kiwi◯

🍇Grapes◯

🥥Coconut◯

🍅Tomato◯

🌶Chili▢

🍄Mushroom◯

🥕Carrot◯

🍠Sweet potato◯

🌽Corn◯

🥦Broccoli◯

🥒Cucumber◯

🥬Lettuce◯

🥑Avocado▢

🍆Aubergine◯

🥔Potato◯

🌰Nut◯

🥜Peanuts◯

🍞Bread▢

🥐Croissant◯

🥖Baguette▢

🥯Bagel◯

🥞Pancakes◯

🍳Frying pan◯

🥚Egg (somehow)◯

🧀Cheese▢

🥓Bacon◯

🥩Meat◯

🍗Chicken leg◯

🍖Anime meat◯

🍔Burger◯

🌭Hotdog▢

🥪Sandwich◯

🥨Pretzel◯

🍟Chips◯

🍕Pizza◯

🌮Taco◯

🌯Wrap◯

🥙Stuffed flatbread◯

🥘Paella◯

🍝Spaghetti◯

🥫Can◯

🥣Bowl◯

🥗Salad◯

🍲Pot of food◯

🍛Curry◯

🍜Noodles◯

🍣Sushi◯

🍤Fried prawn◯

🥡Takeaway container◯

🍚Cooked rice◯

🍱Bento◯

🥟Dumpling◯

🍢Oden◯

🍙Jelly Donut Rice ball◯

🍘Rice cracker◯

🍥Fishcake◯

🍡Dango◯

🥠Fortune cookie◯

🥮Moon cake◯

🍧Shave ice◯

🍨Ice cream◯

🍦See above◯

🥧Pie◯

🍰Cake slice◯

🍮Custard mate what kinda custard have you been eating, this is clearly a créme caramel◯

🎂Birthday cake▢

🧁Cupcake▢

🍭Lollipop◯

🍬Boiled sweet◯

🍫Chocolate◯

🍩Donut◯

🍪Cookie◯

🍯Honey◯

🧂Salt◯

🍿Popcorn◯

🥤Soft drink◯

🥛Milk◯

🍼Baby bottle◯

🍵Green tea◯

☕Coffee▢

🍺Beer◯

🍻Beers, plural◯

🥂Champagne glasses◯

🍾Champagne◯

🍷Red red wine◯

🥃Whiskey◯

🍸Martini◯

🍹Cocktail◯

🍶Sake◯

🥢Chopsticks◯

🍴Knife and fork▢

🥄Spoon◯

🔪Kitchen knife◯

🍽Plate▢

Travel and Places

🛑🎡Everything from the stop sign to Ferris wheel◯

🎠Merry-go-round horse▢

🎪🏕Everything from circus tent to campsite◯

🌇City at sunset yes I'm surprised as you are▢

🛤Train tracks◯

🛣Road◯

🗺Map◯

🗾Japan is an island by the sea filled with volcanoes and it's beautifuul!◯

🌐Globe with meridian lines▢

💺Plane seat◯

🧳Luggage◯

Activities and Events

🎈Balloon▢

🎀Bow◯

🎁Present◯

🎇Sparkler◯

🎆Fireworks◯

🧨Dynamite Firecracker◯

🧧Red envelope◯

🎐Wind chime◯

🎏Fish streamers◯

🎎Japanese dolls (that's what the emoji's called, don't @ me with the actual name for them)◯

🎑Moon viewing ceremony◯

🎍Pine decoration◯

🎋Tanabata◯

🎄Christmas tree▢

🎗Ribbon△

🥇🥈🥉🏅🎖Medals◯

🏆Trophy◯

📣Megaphone◯

🥅Goal◯

⚽⚾🥎🏀🏐🏈🏉🎾🏸🥍🏏🏑🏒SPORTS◯

🥌Curling stone◯

🛷Rosebud Sled◯

🎿Ski◯

⛸Skate◯

⛳Golf-hole◯

🎯Target◯

🏹Bow◯

🥏Frisbee◯

🎣Fishing rod▢

🎽Running shirt◯

🥋Martial arts uniform◯

🥊Boxing glove◯

🎱8-ball◯

🏓Ping-pong◯

🎳Bowling◯

♟Chess◯

🧩Puzzle piece◯

🎮Controller◯

🕹Joystick◯

👾Videogame alien◯

🔫Gun◯

🎲Dice◯

🎰Slot machine◯

🎴Flower playing card◯

🀄Mahjong tile◯

🃏Joker◯

🎩Top hat◯

📷📸Camera◯

🖼Painting◯

🖌Paintbrush◯

🖍Crayon◯

🧵String◯

🧶Wool◯

🎼🎵🎶Music▢

🎷🎺🎸🎻🥁Instruments◯

🎤Mic◯

🎧Headphones▢

🎚🎛🎙📻Assorted audio stuff◯

📺TV◯

📼VHS◯

📹Camcorder◯

📽Projector◯

🎥Film camera◯

🎞Film◯

🎬Clapperboard◯

🎭Comedy and tragedy masks◯

🎫🎟Tickets◯

Objects

📱🧻Everything from smartphone to toilet roll◯

🧸Teddy bear▢

🧷🧢Everything from safety pin to baseball cap◯

👑Crown▢

🎒💍Everything from backpack to ring◯

💎Diamond▢

💄👓Everything from lipstick to glasses◯

🕶Sunglasses▢

🥽📁Everything from goggles to folder◯

🕶Newspaper▢

🗞🔎Everything from rolled-up newspaper to right-pointing magnifying glass◯

🔮Crystal ball▢

🧿🔓Everything from Nazar amulet to open lock◯

Symbols

There are no compatible non-repeated Emoji here.◯

Flags

Aaaaand none here either.◯

Feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong.

[mydisasteracademia]

Random LOV Headcanons

• Repeating something from my book “Did My Time”, due to the damage to Dabi’s body, he needs to use eyedrops multiple times a day. The amount depends on whether or not he uses his Quirk a lot; if he uses it more, he’ll need to practically drown his eyes with special medicated eyedrops to help with the dry-eye.

Adding onto this, due to his body’s natural affinity for the cold, he prefers cold things more than hot, because he has a worse reaction to hot/spicy things compared to other people (just like his mother). Yes, this means I HC him to absolutely never get brain freeze. The others are always jealous of him whenever he chugs a Slurpee in one go.

His burnt, scarred skin is extremely sensitive, especially to scents and scented lotions. He’s found that ointment works to keep things moist, but that also means he needs to be constantly re-applying it every time it dries, given that his Quirk is constantly drying out his skin to the point of damage. Every time his staples tug, even a little, it’s really painful and he’s prone to bleeding.

He does have a bit of a protective instinct, but only over those he deems weaker than him (and let’s be honest, he already has a lot of trouble with his own self-image, so that list might be shorter than you’d think). Definitely has an ‘irritated older sibling to hyperactive younger sibling’ relationship with Toga once they start to get closer. Gets unnecessarily competitive with others he considers stronger than himself, even if he himself doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing.

Due to his Quirk being dangerous to himself, he can smell off, and he gets very touchy about it. Having grown up in a wealthy family, he can get very insecure at his bedraggled appearance and smell. He literally smells like burnt flesh all the time, and it lingers on his own body and his clothing. Due to this, he always hits up a laundromat to wash his clothes a few times a week, using money he’s picked off of wealthier victims of his. Really lays on the cologne to mask his natural corpse smell (and usually ends up smelling like pine trees, smoke, and something vaguely rotting).

Dabi is incredibly touch-starved, given that most people look at him and recoil in horror. He’s more like a cat, though. If you give him too much attention, he gets annoyed, but if he happens to rest his arm on your head or shoulder, that’s his way of subtly asking for positive attention. Depending on who’s doing it, he won’t immediately shove someone away if they decide to hug him. He’s a bit iffy with touch, and the fear of accidentally hurting someone he’s close to with his own Quirk messes with his head a lot. He can be a bit of an attention whore, given his fucked-up childhood, and when he gets praise it can put him in a good mood for a while. He really internalizes negative attention and can brood about not being good enough for a long time though. Won’t admit it, but he lives for headpats. Please give him headpats. He deserves headpats. Just watch out for the hair dye.

• Shigaraki’s Quirk does affect his body, though not by quickly decaying him like he does other things. Instead it’s more of a ‘slow-burn’ decay, and his constant itching is one side-effect of that. Since his body is constantly breaking down (his scratching gets rid of a lot of dead skin on the surface), his skin is incredibly sensitive and he can’t use most face/skin products because it damages him even more and he reacts horribly to it. So far he hasn’t found a brand that can help with his marred skin. Adding to this, he can’t stand spicy foods because it aggravates his decaying body.

Since his body is in a constant state of death and dying, this means he can smell off on even good days. It could be described as musty or ‘stale’, and since he’s extremely sensitive to scents and lotions/creams, he can’t exactly just use any old cologne to mask it.

Sometimes his throat gets super dry and he chokes on debris from his own mouth and throat. He needs to constantly hydrate to keep things from getting a bit too dusty. This means he prefers wet/moist foods over dry, and if he eats anything dry he’ll have a drink to go with it. At Kurogiri’s insistence, he always has a few bottles of water in his room at a time so he doesn’t have to get up in the night to go to a working sink for a drink.

This boy is so touch-starved. Whenever someone of the League hugs him, he acts huffy about it, but he doesn’t shove them off (unless it’s Dabi giving him a noogie, then he threatens death, much to the taller one’s amusement). He secretly craves touching other people. He’s terrified of accidentally dusting someone he cares about again (his family’s deaths haunt his dreams more nights than not), but if someone hugs him he just kind of melts into it. Someone please hug this boy. He needs headpats and positive reinforcement.

• Spinner absolutely loves sunning himself on rocks during summer. Whenever the weather is hot and it’s sunny, if he has a day off you’ll find him chilling outside on a rock just soaking up the sun.

Adding onto this, he really loves humid, hot weather. While the rest of the League (especially Dabi) is suffering, he’s just vibing with the weather.

And he sheds. Usually a few times a year, but it’s not uncommon to see large swaths of translucent white patches left behind. This can annoy the League, but to his credit, Spinner tries to keep it on the down-low. More than once he’s tried inconspicuously rubbing his arm or cheek against Shigaraki to try and help get the dead skin off. (He gets really irritated, but it helps with the itching a bit, so he doesn’t really complain unless he’s trying to concentrate on something.)

• Compress will casually swipe up random items that the League leaves around and later might give them back depending on what it is. The other members can get varying levels of annoyed at this, but they don’t get too beat up about it considering Compress’s Quirk and personality. (This is how Toga lost her favorite lip gloss. She didn’t stop pouting for a week until Twice bought her another one.)

When he gets anxious or bored, he often resorts to simple hand tricks to keep himself entertained: fiddling around with his marbles, practicing simple card tricks, or practicing magic.

• Toga loves horror. Almost any horror. Especially guro. During movie nights with the League, as long as the movie has some form of mutilation and/or blood, she’s giving it her full attention. Adding to this, she really loves anything written by Junji Ito and has read Tomie about twenty times. Despite this, she has a soft spot for cutesy things and her aesthetic is Gurokawa. She definitely has a Gloomy Bear plush or two.

She definitely has a fondness for beauty products, given that she’s still just a normal girl despite her Quirk. This fact can make her really insecure, and she’s prone to depressive episodes just like anyone else in the League where she does herself up real pretty just to try and feel more ‘in tune’ with her femininity and less like the monster her parents saw her as. Magne helped with this a lot in the past, but now that she’s gone she relies more on the others to help cheer her up.

She is not above forcing the other League members into spa days. Shigaraki is the only one who doesn’t have to get a facial, though she does insist on painting his nails and doing his hair.

• Kurogiri’s mist/fog can get blown away quicker than he can create more, but only by a very strong wind. It’s hilarious. Shigaraki can’t stop teasing him for it.

Is not above using his Quirk to forcefully separate two squabbling parties, especially in the bar hideout.

When he’s bored, he does bar tricks, much to Toga’s delight.

Since quite a few League members are under drinking age, he always makes sure to have sparkling cider on hand.

He carries snacks and a first-aid kit every time the League goes out on a mission -- especially when it’s Shigaraki heading out. He really does care for the man and will be the first to hand him ointment whenever his skin gets really crumbly or damaged.

Has come to reluctantly see the League as people he worries for. That’s the closest to “hm yes these are my children now I must protect” that you’ll get.

He misses Magne for how sensible she could be. He appreciates Compress’s overall chill vibe and his being the voice of reason among their little group of mass murderers.

• Kurogiri and Magne were the League’s parental figures. You can’t fight me on this. (Kurogiri reluctantly, Magne enthusiastically.) Compress was more like the outgoing uncle that has a sense of humor nobody can really understand at first and was definitely a theater major in college.

• Shigaraki and Dabi love chicken nuggets. Every time someone brings home fast food, you can bet your ass they’ll have ordered like a fifty-piece chicken nugget meal from wherever sells that. Constantly have to deal with each other trying to swipe the other’s nuggets when they finish their own.

• Twice loves Vine compilations and can recite a worrying number of them from memory. He gets a kick out of the “A Bagel, Two Bagels” one for how much he relates to it.

• Before she died, Magne loved when Toga begged her to help her with makeup. It helped with her dysphoria when Toga would doll her up.

She loved window-shopping and imagining herself wearing some of the stylish clothes in shop windows.

Despite her cruel persona towards her enemies, Magne had a soft spot for elegant-cute things, kinda like Toga but a little less bloody.

• Muscular always challenges the other League members to arm-wrestling when he’s around. He always wins. The others have learnt not to accept his challenges, lest they want bruises/sprains.

• Mustard is very childish in his tastes. He loves chicken nuggets and mac n’ cheese. Provokes people by pulling his lower eyelid down and sticking his tongue at them. I can definitely imagine him muttering “Eat my shorts” or “Don’t have a cow, man” whenever another member is angry about something.

• In this household we pretend that Moonfish does not exist.

• If the League had Switches, you bet your ass they play Animal Crossing on them.

Toga would go for a ‘Aika Village’ aesthetic, all gloomy and creepy but with an undeniably cute element to it. Definitely wears pastels and gothic-themed clothing.

Shigaraki models his after his favorite RPG and hunts down NPCs that fit the personalities of the various characters. His favorite characters tend to be dogs. Will not hesitate to kick out any animal who fails his ‘vibe check’. Surprisingly, this game can calm him down almost as well as an RPG. Joycon drift is the bane of his existence.

Compress uses only the most glamorous, expensive items on his island. Outright refuses to use dirt paths. Uses only Snooty villagers.

Dabi wants his island to look the best and is uncharacteristically stern about how his island looks. Everything is very neat and streamlined (and he has an outdoor gym near his player’s home). Will physically fight anyone who tries to ruin it by littering or messing around on it. He has a rivalry with Compress about whose island looks the best.

Spinner doesn’t really care about how his island looks. He just wants to max out his encyclopedias. Shigaraki once caught him up at 3 AM because he was trying to catch a spider crab.

Kurogiri doesn’t play it that often, so his island is fairly undeveloped. Doesn’t really care about it, considering his responsibilities to the League overpower a video game.

Muscular doesn’t care about it at all and doesn’t play.

Mustard made his island look like something out of Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley; a town area, a forest, and even a beach.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 22

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Sorry this took forever. Life has been strange (as I’m sure you’re all well aware). I have so appreciated hearing from all of you, and I’m sorry for the torture I put you through. So, I won’t keep you any longer. Without further ado... Enjoy! 

Harsh daylight pierces through Rowan’s eyelids, and he groans and buries his nose into his pillow, feeling exhausted. He has barely slept a few hours, and already his body is waking him up, ruining the paltry amount of rest he was able to get. He’s surprised when his pillow sighs softly and twitches beneath his extended arm. Some time during his limited sleep, Rowan has returned to his default place; wrapped around Aelin. For a brief second, he forgets that anything is amiss as he breathes her in. But when she moves beneath him again, it all comes rushing back, and he feels like there’s an arrow piercing through his chest.

He stiffens and pulls his arm back slowly, not wanting to wake her. He holds his breath, hoping she remains asleep as he extracts himself from the bed. The starched sheets crinkle loudly under his movements, and he listens nervously for Aelin’s breath to change. He’s relieved when she stays unmoving, and he creeps into the bathroom to shower and change into his clothes, needing a few more minutes alone before being forced to deal with her pitying gaze again. He’s never felt so small or pathetic.

The shower does nothing to lift his mood – the soft trickle of water barely able to cover his body as he tries to wash Aelin’s soap from his skin. He knew he should have brought his own toiletries, but she insisted it was more practical to share. Now he’ll have to smell like her the whole fucking day on top of everything else. He scrubs his skin roughly, turning it red, trying to claw out of his own body. But it’s useless. He’s stuck there.

When he makes his way back out to the room, Aelin is awake, pulling her rumpled hair up into a messy bun. She turns when she hears him, and his entire body freezes upon locking eyes with her. She looks like she’s about to open her mouth, but Rowan isn’t ready to hear anything else she has to say right now. Unless it’s – I love you, too. And he has a feeling it’s not. He gives her a stiff nod, dismissing her, and averts his eyes, the crunch of the carpet deafening as he steps across.

She takes the hint and goes into the bathroom without instigating any conversation, and Rowan releases a shaky breath. At the sound of the shower turning on, he gathers his few things and clears out of the room.

The bus is already waiting in the driveway, though no one but the driver is on it yet. Rowan doesn’t care – he’s grateful for the silence. He takes the first seat and leans his head against the cool glass, letting his eyes close again.

He doesn’t open them again until the bus starts to fill up. The excited chatter from his coworkers drains him further, pushing him into an even worse mood. Their happiness has never made him feel more alone. He’d been looking forward to this weekend for so long, and now he’s thinking about the quickest way to make an escape. He wonders if he could fake an emergency sickness and get out of the day. But he knows he has to stick it out and be braver than that. If only he could erect walls fast enough, thick enough, to keep her warm gaze and soft laughter out of his head. He stares out the window, his head tilted away from the aisle, so as not to inadvertently make eye contact with someone he’d rather not. He exudes a – stay the fuck away from me – vibe, which he’s grateful everyone picks up on, and the seat next to him remains blissfully empty.

He focuses on his breath as Aelin and Elide pass him. He smells Aelin’s soap on her freshly showered skin, and it takes everything in him not to turn his head toward her. But he keeps his gaze firmly rooted out the window. He doesn’t need to see how beautiful she looks this morning, and he definitely doesn’t want to see her smiling with Elide, pretending like everything is fine. He’s not ready yet.

Lorcan gets everyone’s attention and explains the day to them. Rowan looks up at the man, catches one glimpse of his twinkling eyes and buoyant smile, and has to look away. It seems like he and Elide didn’t let their shoddy location ruin their plans. Lorcan’s happiness is blinding, and Rowan hates the way his stomach churns with jealousy.

“Rough night?” Lorcan says with a small chuckle as he takes the empty seat beside Rowan, and Rowan grunts his response. “Didn’t get much sleep?” Lorcan prods, and Rowan simply nods, not wanting his voice to break and give him away. Lorcan is too happy to notice, though. “Me neither,” he says with a wide smile, oblivious to Rowan’s despair. Lorcan slaps Rowan’s knee. “Don’t worry. We’ll get some coffee in you, and you’ll be good as new.”

Rowan forces a smile in return, wishing that were true. If only caffeine could fix a broken heart.

The drive to the lodge is far too short, and they get off and are greeted by their retreat leaders, Petrah and Imogen – an elderly lesbian hippie couple with long unruly hair and tie-dyed t-shirts and tevas. Petrah shows them to their breakfast spread, an incredible buffet that overlooks the shimmering lake. She encourages them to eat their fill because it’s going to be a long (but fun!) day.

Rowan wishes he were feeling better, because he would photograph the shit out of this place. The sun reflects off the smooth surface of the lake, glinting gold across the deep blue-green expanse. It reminds him of Aelin’s eyes. He sighs and grabs some scrambled eggs and half a bagel, avoiding the sugary pastries he know will make him feel ill if he tries to eat right now. As it is, he can barely shovel a few bites of eggs into his mouth before he starts feeling nauseous.

The cloying smell of icing and sugar hits his nose as someone takes a seat next to him. He doesn’t have to look to know who it is. Every time she’s around him, his skin starts to prickle and his heart starts to race. Rowan takes a long sip of his coffee and keeps his eyes trained on the scenery in front of him. He takes in the clear blue skies scattered with puffy white clouds, and the pine trees dotting the banks of the lake, looking like a Bob Ross painting – lush and happy. He manages to finish his entire bagel, somehow, despite the feeling of Aelin only a few inches away. He’s grateful for the silence, despite her proximity, because he’s not sure what he would say to her. Or what she would say to him. He needs more time to lick his wounds, preferably without her sticking her fingers into them, making him bleed out slowly. He’s about to stand and throw away his plate when she breaks the silence.

“Are you really just not going to talk to me anymore?” she whispers, her voice low, and Rowan finally looks over at her.

She looks just as tired as he feels, dark circles prominent beneath her eyes as she brings her mug of coffee to her lips. Her hair is down, still half-wet from her morning shower, and her tanned skin is on display in a white tank top and jean shorts. He watches her fingers grasp at the necklace hanging at her chest, needing something to fiddle with as she looks at him nervously. Her brows are furrowed, waiting for his reply, and he hates the way his heart thuds in his chest just from looking at her.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” he finally replies. He knows he should bite his tongue and leave it at that, but he can’t resist pushing, reminding her of why this is all happening. “You didn’t want to hear what I had to say.”

Aelin’s lips tug down as she swallows her coffee. She stares at the pastry on her plate, frowning.

“I thought…” she begins and sighs deeply, twisting her necklace around her fingers again. “I thought,” she repeats herself, a large crinkle forming in her forehead as she attempts to say something. “I thought we’d still be friends,” she finally says and looks over at him, her blue-gold eyes stormy with emotion, and it pains Rowan to see it. He hates that he has to be cruel to make her stay away, but he suddenly feels like he’ll suffocate if she keeps looking at him like that.

“You thought wrong,” Rowan snaps, just wanting her to leave him alone to his misery. He has no interest in being Aelin’s friend. He’s never been Aelin’s friends. They’ve fucked and fought, but they’ve never been friends. Not really. They really skipped over the friend part of friends with benefits. This is what he gets in return.

Aelin opens her mouth and closes it again. He watches as fury burns in her eyes, the cold blue melting into molten gold.

“I didn’t peg you for an asshole,” she says, and Rowan has to laugh at that. His laugh is loud and hearty, and it surprises Aelin, whose eyes widen.

“I’m not an asshole, Aelin,” Rowan laughs again. “I’m a sad sap, who got sucked into some pretty rich girl’s orbit and was told he wasn’t good enough to stay there.”

He stands, not wanting to watch the guilt flash across Aelin’s face. It doesn’t escape his notice that she doesn’t refute his statement, though. Not that she could. He walks away, and she doesn’t follow. She simply sits, staring out at the water, completely still. It gives Rowan a moment to breathe. But just barely. Because the day is starting, and he fears he won’t be able to escape her.

They split into smaller groups for their hike – randomly selected as they count off by six. Rowan is relieved when he somehow manages to avoid being in the same group as Aelin. He can’t be around her right now. He needs space to clear his head. And nothing clears his head as well as physical activity does.

The hike is less grueling than he wants it to be, but it’s a fairly steady incline for a solid two hours. So, Rowan pushes himself, staying with the group leader – a young woman named Rhiannon – maintaining their swift pace up the mountain. As he walks, Rowan tries his very hardest to silence the angry thoughts pushing at the sides of his consciousness, begging to be listened to, but it’s impossible. All he can hear is his own berating voice telling him how inadequate he is, how of course Aelin wouldn’t want to be with him. Why would she? He’s a loser. A nobody who’ll amount to nothing, despite his greatest wishes to do something with his life. His own father didn’t even love him enough to stick around, how could he have been stupid enough to think Aelin would feel something for him?

Rowan pushes his sweaty hair from his forehead and tries not to let that thought choke him. It’s the one that’s buried deepest inside him, under layers and layers of thick skin and avoidance, and the only way he can function is if it stays there.

His head pounds, so he takes a seat on a nearby rock while he waits for the rest of his group to catch up with him. He barely has a few minutes to collect himself before they’re walking across the mountain peak. Rhiannon explains the history of the mountain and its lore, but Rowan catches sight of Aelin ahead of him and stops listening.

It turns out he should have listened because it becomes clear that his group is combining with Aelin’s for the rest of the day. They’re going to complete a team building ropes course together. Of course. So much for avoidance.

Aelin’s group leader, a skinny, nerdy looking guy named Ravi, leads them to their first ropes activity – a tall pole they’ll have to climb up, and then cross an unsteady bridge, made of floating planks. Once they all cross that, they’ll have nine more “challenges,” he explains, until they reach the final one – a zip line, which will bring them down to the bottom of the mountain. He holds up a harnesses and explains how to put it on, using Rhiannon as his model, pulling each of the flaps tight.

“These harnesses are what’s going to keep you safe all day,” he holds it out for everyone to see, “So, after putting it on, grab a friend to test it and make sure it’s completely secure.” He tugs at the harness around Rhiannon’s waist, motioning everyone to follow.

Rowan grabs a harness and climbs into it, pulling the legs tight and then the waist. He knows he needs to find someone to test it, and his eyes inadvertently seek out Aelin’s. She’s just stepped into hers too. He briefly considers walking to her when he’s interrupted by a short blonde, who he’s sure he’s worked with at some point, but he struggles to remember her name.  

“Hey, Rowan,” she starts, her voice high, almost as if she’s purposefully talking like a small child. “Mind checking for me?”

She pulls her loose top up to reveal her pale skin, and bunches it in one hand. She looks up expectantly at Rowan with wide blue eyes, and Rowan has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her overzealous blinking. He’s sure she’s trying to bat her eyelashes or something, but it really just looks like she’s gotten something in her eye.

He gives her harness a quick tug. It stays, and so he takes a large step back. But the girl doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I can check yours, too,” she says, and without a second thought, shoves her hand under his harness, grazing Rowan’s crotch as she goes. She takes a step closer and places her other hand against Rowan’s stomach. He cringes away from her, trying to escape, but he finds himself trapped. “Why haven’t we hung out this summer?” she asks, and Rowan, as politely as he can manage, removes her hands from him and takes another step back. The girl pouts, clearly unhappy with Rowan’s reaction. But as his eyes lift, he can’t help but smile.

Completely unaware, over the girl’s shoulder, Aelin glares, her eyes practically lighting a trail of fire to where they stand.

“Remelle!” she calls out, far too loudly, given how close she’s standing. Remelle, right.

Remelle turns away from Rowan, annoyed, to see who’s calling her name, and frowns upon seeing Aelin approaching.

“Think you could check me?” Aelin asks, her eyes dancing dangerously as they flicker between Remelle and Rowan.

“We’re kind of actually in the middle of something—” Remelle replies, and Aelin’s eyes flash with fury again.

“Really?” Aelin asks, and Remelle makes the grave mistake of nodding. Aelin stops when she’s immediately in front of the girl and smirks. “Cause it kind of looked like you were making Rowan really uncomfortable with your unwanted advances.”

Remelle’s jaw drops, and Rowan has to bite back another laugh at Aelin’s sheer audacity. Remelle juts her chin out as she motions to Rowan.

“I think he can speak for himself. Can’t you, Rowan?” Her voice is cloyingly sweet, and Rowan struggles not to shudder. Instead, he rubs at his chin, grateful for Aelin’s intervention.

“No, she pretty much said it.”

Remelle huffs and walks off, swishing her hips from side to side exaggeratedly. Aelin and Rowan laugh simultaneously at the display, but when their eyes meet, Rowan’s smile falls again, remembering he’s supposed to be staying away from this girl who twists him into knots without a second thought.

Still, when she takes a step forward, he dutifully tugs at the harness around her waist. His knuckles brush against the soft skin of her stomach, which is exposed underneath the short hem of her tank top.

He stills when she places her hand atop his and gives him a sad look. “Rowan…”

The pain in her voice shakes him out of whatever trance she’s placed him under, and he removes his hand quickly. “You’re good,” he says roughly.

She clasps her hands in front of her waist and sighs softly. “Rowan, I’m—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry,” he rushes out in a breath, and she nods tightly. “I need some space.” And he does. He can’t bear this closeness. It hurts way too much. He knows he’ll just keeping getting pulled in over and over, and he made a stand last night. He finally stood up for himself and his feelings, and he needs to keep that boundary secure. It’s the only way he’ll be able to live with himself. She nods again, but she can’t hold herself back from replying.

“I leave in a week,” she says softly. “How much space are you going to need?”

“I don’t know,” Rowan says. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Aelin nods, and Rowan is relieved when Ravi calls the first person to come forward and start the course, directing everyone’s attention to the tall beam.

Surprisingly, Rowan is able to concentrate on each ropes challenge, and is actually good at them. He crosses the unsteady bridge with ease, is used as the anchor for their giant ladder, hoists everyone up and over the cargo net, scoots up the fallen log beam, and glides across the single line bridge with ease. He impresses even himself, and by the end of the day his body is sore from effort and his skin is slick with sweat from exertion, but he feels better. The crisp mountain air feels cool against his skin as they make their way to the final platform.

Ravi clips his harness to the carabiner, and gives Rowan a large push. He zooms down the side of the mountain, the zip line giving him the best view of the giant peak and mountain in the distance. As Rowan speeds down, the air rushing across his face, he has a moment of clarity  -- that he’s going to be okay. He has to be. He’s survived much worse than a broken heart.

By the time he’s back on the bus, Rowan feels oddly lighter. He dozes most of the ride back to Terrasen, and he’s surprised when the bus pulls to a stop in the Playland parking lot.

It’s already dark as they pile out of the bus and make their way back to their cars. As Rowan reaches his truck, he hears Aelin’s voice calling out for him.

“Rowan, wait,” she pants.

Rowan turns and steps closer to her. He can see her throat bob as she swallows, readying herself to say something he’s sure is going to wound him to his core, so he stops her. Rowan needs to say something first.

“Chaol once told me that once you fall in love with Aelin Ashryver, you never stop.” He recalls the conversation with a wistful smile.

“He said that?” she says, and Rowan nods thoughtfully.

“I’m never going to stop loving you, Aelin,” he says, his voice tight with a sudden frog in his throat. “And I need time to deal with that.” Rowan breathes deeply. “So, unless you suddenly change your mind about me, I think we probably shouldn’t talk.”

Aelin’s breath stutters as she looks at him. “But I’ll see you at the park, right?”

“Yes,” Rowan nods slowly, and he’s shocked to see Aelin’s eyes fill with unshed tears.

“And I can say goodbye to you before I leave on Saturday?” she asks. As she blinks, waiting, a small tear escapes her eye, but she swipes it away before Rowan can question if it was even there at all.

“I don’t think so,” he says, and Aelin rubs at her eye again. Rowan’s chest aches. “Goodbye, Aelin,” he says.

He’s about to step away and into his truck when her arms latch around his neck and she flings her body at his. She presses her face against his chest, and he lets his lips skim across the top of her hair. Her hands clutch at his neckline, and he allows himself a tight squeeze around her waist as he inhales her floral scent one last time.

“Bye, Rowan,” she mumbles into his shirt. And before he can say anything else, she’s gone, disappearing into the dark.

When Rowan arrives home, Manon takes one look at his face and stands from the couch. “I’ll get the whiskey,” she says, and Rowan waves her off.

“I don’t need whiskey.” His voice finally cracks under the weight of the sadness he’s been pushing down for the last twenty-four hours, and his eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, Rowan.” Manon tuts with her tongue. “She’s an idiot.”

“No,” Rowan shakes his head. “I am.”

He collapses onto the couch and tilts his head back. He can feel his eyes burn with unshed tears. The couch sinks beneath Manon’s weight, and Rowan falls across her lap easily as she tugs his arm toward her.

“You can’t tell anyone that I cried,” Rowan stutters as the tears finally drip down his face and onto the thick fabric of Manon’s ripped jeans. She smooths his hair out of his face, running her long nails across his scalp, petting him gently. He releases the tears in droves, not stopping them from pouring from his eyes. He doesn’t bother swiping them away. He just lets himself feel. He’s so incredibly sad.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Manon whispers, stroking his hair calmly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, with Manon soothing him as he cries. The only sounds are Rowan’s sniffles, until Manon’s voice finally breaks in. “So, now would be a bad time to tell you that I’m moving in with Nimi, huh?”  

Rowan shoots up and looks at his roommate. She bites her lip, her eyes filled with guilt as she examines his splotchy, tear-stained face.

“Isn’t that kind of fast?” he asks, and Manon can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips.

“I’m here to teach you your final lesson about lesbians,” she says with a small laugh. “You now get to witness U-hauling, up close and personal.”

“I’m happy for you,” he says and slinks down to rest his head on top of hers. Manon lets him. “Guess I’m moving home,” Rowan sighs and rubs at his cheeks.

“Your mom will be thrilled,” Manon chuckles, and Rowan groans. This was so not the plan he had in mind for this summer. But, life plans change, he guesses.

Manon pats her lap again, and Rowan doesn’t resist putting his head back down. Manon continues to run her nails across his scalp as she prattles on about the things they need to do before the end of the month. He sighs and nods in all the right places, but he can’t help as exhaustion overtakes him. He’ll think about everything else tomorrow.

~*~*~*~

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Bagels, Donuts, Confessions, Oh My! | knj

Bagels, Donuts, Confessions, Oh My!

— Your best friend, Kim Namjoon, offers you an analogy; bagels are better than donuts.

Word Count: 2,041 Contents: pining, fluff, cuRsiNg, friends to lovers! AU, bff!joon is so sweet y’all Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

A/N: this is a lil wacky i hope y’all would like it lololol I saw this meme with the bagel and donut thing and I thought of this lil argument ushfajsd then I remembered the debate over mint chocolate ice cream so I was like “this onE’s fOr mY BoI JOON aYYE”

tbh tho I prefer to eat donuts eaibsgibasg

[masterlist]

Distant chattering and vehicles zooming by were Kim Namjoon’s background music to the book he was reading. His usual routine always included this—book reading at his favourite café with his favorite combo of goodies.

The ringing of his phone interrupts his zen. He looked at the caller, and saw the name underneath the image of a familiar wacky face. Ah, of course you’d be calling at this time.

Tapping the green button, Namjoon puts the device to his ear as he mindlessly ran his fingers across the inked words on his book. “Hello,” he greets jokingly, “(Y/N)’s personal therapist speaking.”  

The usual mischief that follows his opening line was instead ensued with utter disorder. “Joon, he moved the date!” you exclaimed, not even bothering to greet your best friend. “He said he wants to meet today!”

Namjoon held back a wince, as he hears a few crashes on your end. “And you said yes?”

In spite of the stupidity you had gotten yourself into, the overwrought situation had left your temper short and irritable. “Duh,” You said to him, matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t be panicky if I didn’t, would I?”

Something in him hurt as the scene unfolds. Alas, you are his best friend and Namjoon swore to fulfil his role as confidant to the best of his abilities. “Alright, alright,” he sighed, “No need to be snappy.”

At his words, guilt hauled your conscience, slapping it across the face for you to realize the unnecessary rudeness you had unleashed on your unpaid, not-really-professional-therapist best friend. “I’m sorry,” you soon say, sighing as well. “I know I brought this to myself, but could you please help me?”

A thoughtful hum left his lips. “What can I help you with?” Namjoon asks, closing his book and taking a sip of his coffee to focus his attention on you and your dilemma.

“Do I really look good in the floral dress?” you ask, sounding so genuinely concerned that Namjoon found himself somewhere between a stifled laugh and a disappointed groan. This had always been the age old conundrum for women, it seems.

Your best friend takes a deep breath. “(Y/N), I told you already,” he said in a slow manner to get it through your head, “you look good in anything. If he’s really the right guy, then—”

“—he’d like me regardless of what I look like,” you finish the saying he always seemed to repeat like a broken record. Alas, you still couldn’t see the point. “How about I show up in a garbage bag then?” you sarcastically added, shimmying the dress on.

“Har, har,” Namjoon rolls his eyes, “Just wear the dress already.”

He heard another thump. “Already done!” you soon sang, before Namjoon hears more scuffling of, what he had guessed, was you putting some shoes on.

“Shit!”

Panic wrestled with worry in his head at the tone of your voice. “What happened?!” he exclaimed, not caring about the judgemental stares he received from the other patrons in the café. Did she hit her head? Did she get hurt?

“I can’t find it!” you then cried out, not in pain at all like he had expected. It was more like immensely aggravated.

Beyond confusion, Namjoon didn’t even have time to ask whatever it was. He hears your distressed shuffling over the phone. The mental image his brain presents himself with is you running across your room like a human hurricane, throwing stuff as you got yourself ready for the date with the man, who you’ve been rambling about to him since last week. “I can’t find my damn makeup bag!” he hears you shriek, “I look like a damn bagel without make up on!”

With the volume of your voice, Namjoon had to lean away for a moment, but he was quick to console you. "Some people prefer bagels over donuts though!" He attempts to beam, but his sheepish side bleeds through his words.

A scoff came from your end. "Yeah!" you exasperated, "Boring people!"

Namjoon frowned, looking down at his half-eaten bagel. Ouch.

That, and the fact that you still refuse to believe his argument. You were beautiful to Namjoon, always have been, always will be.

“And then he made me pay for the whole meal!”

It was about four hours later that Namjoon found himself at the same café. The difference to the equation was now a new variable—you. Before him, tears were running down your cheeks, frustrated from the worst rendezvous that you’ve had to date. “I had to walk all the way here,” you sniffled, rubbing the blistered, red foot you had rested on one knee. Walking for three fucking hours on kitten heels was a torture, okay? If you’d known this shit was going to happen, you would’ve grabbed your rubber shoes and went to a fucking marathon instead. That son of a b—

The rant and ideas of vengeance in your head died as you glanced at your best friend next to you. In his deafening silence, Namjoon’s eyes were sweltering with rage and worry, heavily framed by deeply furrowed brows. Jaws clenched, he handed you some bandages for the wounds your shoes inflicted on your sockless feet. “I’ll call Jin-hyung to give us a ride home,” he tells you, reaching for his phone to contact the said man for a favour to cash in.

As much as you were embarrassed of yourself, you let Namjoon make his call, knowing well that he was angry enough to not be reasoned out of his decisions. Idly taking a bite out of the donuts he bought for the both of you, your tears welled up again at the thought of yet another tragedy to your tally board of failed love life attempts. Why does every single date lead to shit?

When the call ended, your best friend took note of your full cheeks, resembling that of a chipmunk. You looked adorable, but the tears running down your donut-filled cheeks weren’t a nice addition. Namjoon hated it. “Hey, don’t cry,” he softly chastises, easily reaching over to ruffle your hair. “He’s not worth it. We don’t stan useless, rude jerks who order a shit ton of food for themselves and makes women pay for everything, hm?”

You laugh a little at his attempt to incorporate the internet speak you sometimes bark at him. And so, you wipe at your tears—only to realize that you’ve been smudging your makeup all this time. “Shit,” you miserably mumbled under your breath, quickly getting wet wipes to take the rest of your makeup off. “Great,” you groused, “I look ugly now. Maybe that’s why my dates turn to sh—”

It was an unexpected turn of events to have donut stuffed to your mouth by your best friend—something you’ve always done to him. Is this the disrespect he feels when I do this?

A finger was kept to your lips, forcing you to chew your treat as you glared. “I’m not going to let you finish those words, (Y/N) (L/N),” Namjoon scolded with a touch of tomfoolery in his eyes, clearly amused at your state. It was then he turns somber. “You’re beautiful, okay? You don’t need makeup,” he tells you, “why can’t you believe me with that?”

Something in you flutters and it better fucking stop because it’s not helping your heart right now. Beautiful—your heart’s never reacted this way to that word before. Your insides must be wilding right now. They can’t be trusted. “Because it’s not true?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “If it were, then I would have guys flocking around me.”

You were willing to bet the little cash you had left with you that the philosophical therapist will come out soon to give you a lecture. Namjoon let out a sigh—a response quite common in your sessions. “Bagels are better than donuts, (Y/N),” he said, as if it were so simply put.

A laugh busted its way out of your lips. “What?” you asked, finding it hilarious but also confusing.  

Namjoon’s eyes were sparkling with wild incredulity, like he found the cure to cancer or something. “Listen. There are people who prefer bagels over donuts, right?” he said, pausing to turn and face you more. He was met with more muddled silence. “Let me offer you an analogy,” he began to gesture with his hands. “It’s better off to be a bagel. It’s healthier than a donut, and is still delicious. Donuts are just deceitful devils.”

It was funny to hear those words from his mouth, when he literally bought a box of the deceitful devils. “You lost me,” you droned in confusion, leaning back a little. Really, what is he on right now?

Your best friend sighs, as if he were some unfortunate time-traveller forced to keep up with the past. He presented a more elementary justification. “Bagels,” Namjoon emphasizes, pointing to the ones displayed by the cashier. “No makeup,” he then gestures to your bare face, before proceeding with the other side of the hypothetical diagram. “Donuts,” he grabs a donut from the box, one with the white chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. “With makeup,” he stresses with jazz hands.

Namjoon takes one of your hands and places the donut on your palm. “Donuts are nice every once in a while, especially if it’s for yourself,” he tells you, but stops you from eating the treat. “But too much donuts are unhealthy, and you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Slowly, the message seeps in. You scoff, putting back the donut on the box since you’re not allowed to even eat it, damn it. “But it is for myself,” you insist, crossing your arms like a stubborn child. “I buy makeup for me.”

Your best friend shakes his head, knowing better. “No it’s not, (Y/N),” he claims, “I’ve been with you to the mall a lot of times to buy makeup for every date. They’re for your dates, not you.”

Were they?

This session of deep talks forced you to walk the shores of memory lane. You did enjoy playing around with makeup, and skincare stuff, but maybe you did spend a little too much on things that you shouldn’t have spent on. You were always panicking about pimples, breakouts, or not getting the vibe of a specific look. Namjoon had always been your shopping slave partner, and he has always been observant. Perhaps, there are some truths to these accusations.

Namjoon’s hands enclosed yours, breaking you from your thoughts. You look into the eyes of your best friend, heart going feral against your ribcages. “The right guy should and would prefer bagel (Y/N) any time,” he states, with such sincerity, and something else. Would it be too much to assume there was something else?

In all of the seven years you’ve known this nerd, he’s always been the one you run to, the one who takes care of your sorry ass, and the one who probably knows you more than anyone else. Shit, maybe you caught the dreadful falling-for-your-best-friend disease.

“What do you prefer then?” you found yourself asking him, before you could even stop your stupid ass mouth. Oh my God, (Y/N) no.

Namjoon, you notice, was taken aback, but he smiles, showing you those precious dimples. “Bagel (Y/N), of course,” he shyly confesses, “always have, always will.”

AaaaAAa—

Without any further thought, your usual reckless self dived into oblivion. Here you were, kissing your best friend, personal therapist, and eye-opener. Wherever you pulled your courage from, you hope it doesn’t run out, because this is all going to fly out the window if it does.

You both pull away, a blushing mess with stupidly lovestruck grins. You chuckled, wiping away the few tears that might’ve gotten out, because of happiness. “I’m such a mess, aren’t I?” you huffed, hiding behind a hand.

Namjoon laughs, taking your hand away to reveal your face. “Hey, I’m your personal therapist for a reason, remember?” he says, smiling as you punched his arm, but proceeded to link it with yours for a side cuddle.

Why did every single date lead to shit?

You couldn’t find the right guy with the bagel preference, but that’s an issue solved today, don’t you think?

[skrltwtch]

The Cat

Prompt: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail. The cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

Secondary plot twist: The woman is a shapeshifter. She is the cat. (Source of prompt in link at bottom of post.)

Word count: 1,840 words

Author's note: This is more of a little tale starring George as the lead and you as the mysterious woman, as opposed to a story about George MacKay the Actor. I kind of had Jack Marrowbone's look — and nothing else about him in that movie — in mind while writing this.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

‘Let’s play a game! I will grant my hand in marriage to the person who succeeds in taking this key off my cat’s neck and unlocking my front door with it. Oh, won’t that be such fun?’

Only she can pull off such a stunt. She has put the village under some kind of spell, and I am one of its victims. One of the more prudent ones, at least, in the sense that I know well enough that I’ll never be able to win her heart. She has an entire village of men to choose from, most more remarkable than I in looks and/or calibre. I am but a simple baker of average frame with blonde locks that wishes for no kinship with a comb and blue eyes that gleam with neither transcendental allure nor immense potential; unless she were an ardent consumer of bread and pastries, I have nothing to offer her. I simply admire her from afar, pine for a connection that is real only in my wildest dreams.

No one quite knows what it is about her that sees a constant line of suitors supplanting her shadow whenever she comes into the village. That is to say, she isn’t not beautiful, neither is she not gracious. She keeps to herself mostly in her quaint cottage on the edge of the village. Her isolation and magnetism have made her the subject of many a fevered whisper: she is a witch, an enchantress, a nymph. Despite what one may think, the women of the village don’t resent her for the effect she has on their eligible male compatriots. The wedded men remain capable of remembering their vows in her presence. In that vein, her paramours are on equal standing: single, virile men who want to have the unhaveable.

Her game has sent the men into a frenzy. It’s amusing to see adult males chase after a cat, one just as unassuming as its owner. They hunt it, as if it were game. They harass it, as if it were a nuisance, an obstacle to their perceived prize. They seek to capture it with elaborate traps. They line the fishmonger’s pockets with gold for her finest catch of the day. It’s all for naught. The cat is, they’ll never admit to themselves, smarter than them. The days pass. She continues to wander around the village without a ring on her finger. The cat continues to taunt the men with its presence, parading the key around its chest like a gibe at their failures. It’s curious that they are never seen together.

Me? I don’t try. I’m not presuming myself to be above this endeavour. I do slip into reveries about emerging victorious every now and then. But see, the other men had never grown up with cats. The thing with cats is, you don’t try. You don’t try to get it to do what you want. You don’t hound a cat. And, as with all living things, you certainly don’t antagonise it. So, I bide my time.

That day soon arrives. As a customer leaves, the cat makes a mad dash into the bakery, maintaining the balance of two beings inside. It glides over the counter, its tail a hair’s breadth away from toppling the display of sourdough bread, and seeks refuge behind some boxes. Shortly after, Edward, its tormentor for today, it seems, enters and calls for the cat. Edward is a cheesemaker, with whom I interact solely out of business necessity. Our families go back a long way, our trades intertwined with one another’s. I do so long for someone else to assume the mantle from Edward.

‘Where is it? I saw it come in here,’ he says.

‘It’s behind here with me,’ I say, ‘but I’ll be damned if you dare make a scene on my premises.’

‘I can respect that.’ His response takes me aback. It seems I am not a contender, much less a threat, in this game of cat and mouse. Edward’s never been one to mince his words. ‘That cat will have to leave eventually, and when it does, it’ll be mine.’

‘Good luck, Edward. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, George. Thank you for having the good sense not to participate in what would be a futile endeavour for you.’

There it is.

I wave at him. He doesn’t reciprocate. It doesn’t matter: watching his outline fade into the distance and out of my sight for another day will never not be the highlight of our interactions.

I feel a warm presence weaving in and out between my legs. I kneel down to meet the cat’s gaze, two yellow diamonds set onto a doll-like face coated in pure onyx. I have wondered on occasion if some of the men’s malice toward it arises from the mere virtue of its colour. How preposterous, I imagine them thinking, that something as divine as she should possess such a vile creature. I offer it my finger. It gives it a tentative sniff. Two. Then it turns its head so that my finger is on its cheek, and it starts rubbing it. Its eyes are closed in contentment; its throat rumbles with soft purrs.

‘Did Edward hurt you?’

‘Meow.’ A once-over confirms it.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Meow.’

I take that as a yes. No one has ever answered otherwise to this question while surrounded by MacKay creations. I grab a pumpernickel bagel from the counter, tear off a chunk, and lay it at its feet. As it eats, a metallic glint almost blinds me. The key. It calls to me. What’ll happen if I reach for it? What’ll I prove to Edward, who is patrolling the street outside, waiting for the chance to resume his reign of terror? No. I won’t. I don’t.

I speak to turn my attention from the small sheet of metal that’s turned the village upside down: ‘Are you having fun being the centre of attention? She must be relishing the peace, not having men fawn over her for the first time in a while. Is that why she hasn’t been visiting lately? I don’t fault her. It must be exhausting,’ I say, as I continue to ply it with bits of bagel.

It looks up at me, and it sizes me up and down. Its head cocks at what it’s registered in its mind’s eye. Of course. How rude of me. ‘I’m George,’ I say.

It rubs its head against my outstretched hand.

‘Nice kitty.’ I give it the rest of the bagel and lead it to the back door, through which it can avoid that scoundrel Edward and find safe passage home. ‘You can bring it back for her. Your mistress. Then maybe you can let me know if she liked it.’ I smile wistfully. ‘We’ve never actually met.’

‘Meow,’ it promises, then runs off.

Over time, more and more people quit the quest — Edward included. The unhaveable isn’t as appealing when it becomes haveable at the expense of hard work at best and deep gashes at worst. Her increased bouts of absence, too, seem to have made people’s hearts become less fonder, as if her glamour is wearing off. In contrast, the cat and I grow closer. We bond in my bakery. Then it stops coming to visit. I worry over whether it’s because someone else has succeeded. I work up the courage to go to her house. Seeing the cat play in her garden, the key still around its neck, fills me with relief, and I pick up from where I left off here in the grace of her garden. Oddly, she is never around when the cat’s there.

I make it special baked goods no one else has or will have access to and tell it to keep some for its mistress. I never find out whether she likes what I bake, but the cat definitely does. I tell the cat about myself in the hopes it’ll tell its mistress about me. I play with it using toys I buy from Christopher the merchant; he is happily married and has never shown interest in her. The men who gave up have spurned me for not taking the key when I’ve had ‘so many’ chances. They talk among themselves. I know what they say about me.

The truth is, I don’t know what’ll happen if I do take it. The cat and I have befriended each other. Will it think lesser of me for taking the key? Will I think I was befriending it under false pretences? It’s silly, I know, to care this much about what a cat thinks. But I suppose the cat is an extension of her. I feel so close to meeting the woman I’ve adored for the longest time, the woman who I knew in my gut from the moment I laid eyes on her is my soulmate. Sometimes I sneak glances into the house to see if she’s there, watching this. The cat redirects my attention to it when it catches me doing this, and I’m all the happier for it.

‘You’re lucky,’ I say to the cat. ‘You get to be with her while she doesn’t know I exist. I’ve loved her since I first saw her in the village. It’s foolish to feel like this about someone you don’t know, doesn’t it? But I know she’s kind and patient and has a good soul, and I know my heart flutters every time I see her.’

The cat jumps onto my lap. Its yellow gaze burns into me. It’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking, pouring my heart out to a cat. ‘You just want rubs,’ I say, and I’m happy to oblige.

It turns itself over, exposing its belly to me. I feel … honoured. In all our time spent together, this is the first time it’s done so. I slowly reach for its belly. When there is no sign I’ll lose my livelihood from what I’m about to do, I stroke it generously, fervently.

Then it uses its paws to nudge my hand toward the key.

I stop. ‘Are you … sure?’

‘Meow.’

I repeat my question. My hand has found itself an inch away from the key.

‘Meow.’

If it says so.

I undo the chain the key is on.

Suddenly, I am blinded by a white light, and — the air starts to smell of roses. It is a familiar aroma. I don’t need to use my sight to know why that is. But I don’t understand.

‘Hello, George.’

Before I can answer, I find myself in the kind of embrace reserved for lovers. My lips press up against hers, and I feel my world fall away in bliss. The warmth of her skin is unlike anything I ever felt. It’s magic. Pure magic. And now I understand.

‘We will have the rest of our lives to know each other better, love,’ she says, smiling, her eyes shining yellow under the sunlight. ‘Now, would you like to come in?’

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— US AGAINST THE WORLD ; PART 4 / ?

( credits to @animusrox for this gif )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2247 hot diggy dog

SUMMARY: You have a heart-to-heart conversation with one of your students before the play and you're hit with the realization that your love for Bruce may be more than meets the eye. hence, you’re starting to wonder if it was a mistake you can never fix.

A/N: This one’s long and kinda depressing. I’m in an angsty mood now whoops. Nevertheless, thank you for reading this series, the bagels will make its appearance and enjoy this one folks.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, depressing thoughts.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

The night of the show arrived quicker than you anticipated. The flurry of theatre kids rushing about backstage is quite the sight, feeling the incredible sense of pride of a mother for her children. Yet in prayer, you ask Mrs. Wilson for the gift of strength and ability to manage a bunch of highly-strung teenagers. It’s only Shakespeare after all but you knew that wasn’t the genuine nature behind their stage jitters. With all tickets sold out within a week, it has easily become the biggest event of the year aside from homecoming. It may be a little pretentious for a high school production of an over-performed Shakspeare play to emerge as the highlight of the year, but you know it will help with some of the students’ portfolios for acting school.

The clock ticks—thirty minutes before showtime and panic starts to creep.

Your fingertips dance along the selvage of the extensive drapery of the stage as lighting queues are being run through for the last time. The urge of curiosity lets you crack open the curtain as you peeked at the rest of the theatre. The bustling crowd made up of mostly teenagers with seats rapidly being filled, it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Amongst the settling audience, you spot Bruce, seated between Mr. Walken, the principal, and Mr. Huckleberry, the vice-principal, likely being shamelessly asked for donations. He looks engaged, but his posture and the gaze of his eyes tell a very different story—Bruce is barely listening to a word they’re saying.

He then turns in the direction of your hiding spot and despite the distance, he catches your eye, immediately recognizing it’s you spying from behind the curtains. You watch the curve of his lips turn up into more of a smirk, swiftly sending a wink your way. You instantly disappear behind the curtains, cheeks burning.

You sometimes find it hard to believe you’re sleeping with the man with no strings attached because you’re incredibly attracted to him.

Someday, you’ll burst out into an exaggerated love confession, and you know it’s going to be ugly. It’s a reality check and right now, it’s the last thing you want. Running away from your problems is more of a habit than a choice as you would rather live in the world your mind has created, where miracles are made and defects cease to exist. Anyone would trade the cruelties of reality for a perfect one yet getting too caught up in a daydream will eventually evolve into toxicity. Bruce orbits the very core of your problems and daydreams. You want to run away from him and allow yourself to be engulfed by his presence at the same time.

You just need...to breathe. Hence, the second dressing room has a weird stench to it. It’s a mess but it’s empty. Yet, it seems you aren’t the only one in need of space, away from everyone else. Shaniqua is seated at the far corner of the room on a crooked metal chair, dressed in a somewhat modernized version of an Elizabethan era dress. Very elaborate and theatrical. Despite her introverted character, she was constantly bright-eyed and keen during your classes. She had a drive like no other. Hell, she miraculously memorized all her lines in two days.

You’ve never seen a furrow of the girl’s brows, until now, and it worries you. Even her glitter-covered eyes could not conceal the dismay they portray with prominence. Gingerly, you made your way to her as she stared at her fidgeting hands. It was only when you settled on the opposite dusty old chair when she finally noticed your presence.

“Stage fright, huh?” you casually asked, resting your arm on the dressing table. She mirrors your posture, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes her head. “No, it’s just,” A pause, her gaze finds yours. You nod, flashing her a smile. It’s a simple gesture that you’re here to listen. “It’s about Oscar...” You catch a hint of a smile as she trailed off and in an instant, your brow raises with curiosity. Oh? Another beat of silence, her eyes dart around the room. You sit quietly with patience because you knew she had more to say.

“It’s just that doing this play has got me thinking a lot about my feelings. I mean, if Romeo and Juliet could be lovers, despite their feuding families, then it must be easy enough for me to admit that I like Oscar.”

“You have a point.” You chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement. Sometimes she thinks too much for her own good. She reminds you of Bruce. Shaniqua flashes you a faint smile, lips pressed with doubt. “But why am I finding it so hard to just tell him that?”

You stayed silent for a moment or two, mind deep in thought. The chair creaks as you shift in your seat. “Well, could it be that you aren’t sure if he likes you back?”

A hum in response, shrugging coyly as she mumbled a ‘maybe’. Although it was clear as day to you that Oscar liked her back, you wondered if her doubts emerged due to their differences in character. The familiarity of the situation is beginning to feel a lot like deja vu.

“How do you know that someone is the one?” Her sudden question catches you off guard because, in all honesty, you aren’t confident if you knew the answer. A straightforward question, commonly seen in the pages of teenage magazines, written for innocent eyes. You knew its true nature and it terrifies you. The image of Bruce charges through your thoughts like rushing water, memories of times when the two of you were younger clouding your mind. You forcefully push back your university days, buried back deep into your conscience.

“I don’t exactly know the answer to that but in my opinion, it’s—it’s the feeling of completeness when you love them and know they love you. They may be different from you, but it doesn’t make you love them any less. There’s no conflict or strife; it’s just the two of you against the world.”

Those words were raw and genuine, carefully crafted directly from the heart. You weren’t surprised by your words because you’ve thought about it a lot, especially on nights you slept on Bruce’s bed. Maybe, you do love him, and that's a huge ass problem. It’s amazing how unexpected situations tend to encourage apprehension on large issues you never knew existed in the first place. Perhaps it was your astonishing lack of discernment when it came to matters that could potentially alter your life.

Tonight, a sixteen-year-old girl did just that.

Amid your growing anxiety, you manage to catch sight of the wall clock, hung on the other side of the room. It’s now eight minutes until showtime. Your eyes are now wide as you sprung up from your seat in the sudden realization that everyone should be at their respective positions two minutes ago. “Oh God, we’re running late. Shaniqua, word of advice—don’t end up regretting something you didn’t do,” You shoot her a pointed look, index finger stretching towards her. “Now, you really need to go, or we’ll have to delay and you know Mr. Walken hates waiting.”

-

It’s a quarter to nine, and the theatre is empty. Outside, the foyer and the hallways are buzzing with the remaining audience, lingering and sharing inane conversations as others wait for a car to take them home. You had only just finished rearranging the costumes in the wardrobe of the dressing room. You tried to sweep the scatter of glitter all over the floor but it deemed a task as impossible; you’ll deal with it next week.

You’re sitting in the seat at the front row, nearest to the aisle with a large box filled with props on your lap. Alone in transcendental silence, feeling as empty as the theatre itself. It was partly the conversation you had with Shaniqua that hit you with the reminder of all the mistakes you made that have led you to this unchanging world of a blur that takes the blame for the wretched feeling in your chest. Yet, as the show progressed, hearing the words of affection from two lovers had sent your mind reeling. You were desperate to head home, crawl into bed and potentially cry yourself to sleep but the growing anxiety forbids it, you don’t even think you could drive home.

So, you stillness of the theatre reminds you of Edward Hopper’s painting, Solitary Figure in a Theater. With eyes shut, you pretend you are the figure in the painting, sheathed in black, sitting alone in the cavernous dark.

You hear the door of the theatre squeak, swinging open followed by the shuffling of feet. You don’t look at first, too tired anyway. You’d assume someone had either forgotten something or it was the janitor that you’re sure is going to be upset over the glitter massacre in the dressing room. It looked like a crime scene, except it was the murder of a literal unicorn. You made a mental note to send an apology sandwich of some sorts next week.

It was the familiarity in the whiff of cologne that made you snap your eyes wide open, looking over your shoulder to meet with the sight of Bruce, ambling down the aisle towards you. He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “What are you still doing here?” He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “I could ask you the same question.” He settles in the seat next to you, elbow brushing against yours. Your head tilts, gesturing to the box. Bruce merely hums and nods thoughtfully.

“So, how was the play? Does it get a Wayne seal of approval?” There’s a hint of teasing in the curve of your lips as his eyes drift to the stage. “I liked it. The kids have talent.” Your eyes glint with amusement, your smile growing wider. “I never knew you were a fan of romance.” His laugh comes out more like a huff of air, crinkled eyes meeting yours, and nudges you lightly. “Well, now you know.”

He recognizes the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes and the way you’re fussing with the edges of the box on your lap. Something is bothering you and he knows it. He nudges you once more. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You blink once. Then twice, face wincing instinctively. You keep forgetting how well Bruce can read people, especially you. You exhale slowly as he watches you struggle to pick the right words.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just-” you say after a long minute, cutting yourself short. Then, you turn to Bruce. “I’m growing older, and I’ve spent my entire life in a fog with so much fear for reality, I’m afraid it’s too late to fix all my mistakes and regrets.” Your voice dwindles with every word that escaped your lips. You were young, naïve with the notion that time was extensive to make decisions without thinking it through. To know that you could never take back the things you did. Saturn’s rising, it’s a wake-up call now that you’re older and the fear that you would never change creeps onto you with every passing birthday.

Bruce defines the epitome of the sinking feeling in your chest whenever you lay in bed at night and let your mind reel about your existence. Yet, it isn’t as simple as you want it to be. The boy you met at university has grown into a far more complex and entangled mess of the grief of his parents, the responsibility he held over this city and the drive to just...keep moving on. For the longest time, it was him against the world, and a part of you wants to believe that it doesn’t have to be that way. That maybe, you could be enough for him.

He glanced away from you, trying to hide the despondency in his eyes. He holds back a sigh as he speaks, “Do you regret us doing this?” As vague as his question is, you know what he exactly means. He remembers the time the two of you used to exchange senseless conversations and laughter so vividly that it scares him. Juvenile friends, lacking the knowledge to know what love really was. Hence, the agreement—it was just two friends, messing around. Nothing could go wrong. Now, the hole has been dug in too deep, with no way of getting out.

“I don’t,” you reply and with just two simple words, his chest feels like fire. It was the way you had said it, with so much confidence and assurance, despite the intricacy of this relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were extremely sure about an answer. You could never regret Bruce. Never.

It’s almost hesitant in the way his hand finds yours, but it represents his care for you, even if you may not know it. The warmth of his hand feels like fire. Hell, your chest feels like it’s on fire, heart burning for the man beside you. “I’ll drive you home,” he whispers with a squeeze of your hand. You flash him a grateful smile as the two of you drift into a comfortable silence. Silence so eloquent that you don’t feel so empty anymore. No longer a solitary figure trapped in a painting but now two, hand in hand, against the world.

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[gingerwritess]

hiii<3 just wondering if i can request a drabble or something where loki admits his love to the reader?

sorry i was in the mood for some pining so here’s this angsty lil thing. i’m going to continue it don’t worry and just imagine this is with thor 1 loki, smol lil greasy weasel who doesn’t know anything about love ugh

also just think. this angstiness ends happily in love with beautiful children, elliot and baby 2 ;) i just want to explore how we got there!

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

“Let’s play a game.”

Loki leans forward on his forearms—you find yourself drawn towards him, too.

“Let’s touch each other,” he murmurs, and you immediately push away from him in disgust.

“Every time I think you’ve changed—”

“No, that’s not…that’s not what I meant.” He rubs his eyes with two fingers and a sigh. “We should touch, as in we should try not shying away from each other’s touch.”

A cold hand moves to cover your clenched fist.

“Let’s not refuse each other’s hands,” he continues, “let’s welcome arms around our waists, let’s…speak sweetly and kindly to each other, touch our lips together. Frequently.”

You swallow hard. “Sounds like you’re saying we should date.”

“No.” He shakes his head, something scarily close to fear crossing his eyes. “No, this wouldn’t be dating, courting, committing, love…this would be just another game for us to play.”

“What’s the prize? How do I win?”

“First one to fall loses.”

“That doesn’t scare you?” You can’t help it and lean in closer to hear his almost-whispered voice. “Living like that? So close to each other? So close to being in love?”

He bares his teeth in something between a scowl and a pained grimace. “If its a game, then I can win. I can beat you, best you in another competition and then everything that we…” his voice falters as he gestures between the two of you. “Everything that w-we might have been can be buried in the past, and the both of us leave each other better off.”

“Better off,” you repeat, casting your gaze to your connected hands. That feels scarily right. “We’d be better off without each other, right?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes. “I’m a disease in your blood, and I don’t want you.”

“Alright.”

You stand, a stoicism to your face as if you were marching into a war. Loki has to remind himself you are.

“Three days to win,” he smiles, lacing your fingers together. It’s an empty smile, just another illusion as he ignores the warmth of your hand in his. “Three days and we part ways all the better. As unlikely acquaintances. Agreed?”

In that moment, staring down at him smiling up at you, you bury the last fragment of Loki that you allowed to take hold in your heart—he doesn’t want you, he’s made that clear, and it’s true. He is toxic for you, he’s an alien, for god’s sake, nothing about the two of you could work.

Unnatural, misfitting, just wrong, horribly tempting as it has been as long as you knew him. Three days and you’ll never have to see him again, just…win this competition.

It’s easier, I guess, to acknowledge a sin and keep doing it, knowing you’ll fix yourselves in three days time.

* * * *

“I don’t like this,” you whisper, welcoming his tongue once again into your mouth.

His grip on your hips tightens and he pulls away, staring up at you with dark eyes and parted lips still glistening from you. “You don’t?”

“Don’t stop.”

Mouths meet once more, hot and cold, ice and fire thrashing and burning and freezing over again and again and this time it’s your hands in his hair, rough and pulling his head back to better reach his lips.

“You’re stupid,” you groan when he gently bites your bottom lip, “I hate you, Loki, despise you, I really do. I don’t like this.”

For the first time, you’ve got him gasping for breath along with you, and he grins against your exploring tongue. “Am I winning?”

”I’m—trying—” you kiss him harder, rocking your hips and running your hand down his neck “—to make you lose.”

Those dreaded hands, something now that seem straight out of your nightmares, slide under your shirt, ice against your bare skin.

“Stop that,” you seethe, jolting at the new sensation. “Stop, Loki, I’m not crossing that line for this stupid game.”

His hands return to your hips—he curses himself, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He almost slipped.

You take that as your cue to roll off of him, a hand on his chest pushing him away until your lips break apart with a pop. Arms cross over your chest and you throw a sideways glance at the young god, noting the flush on his cheeks and heaving of his chest, the hands over his groin undeniably covering something he’d rather not confess to.

“I think I win today,” you tell him as you stand, a hint of smugness in your voice. You adjust your shirt, wipe off your mouth with the back of your hand. Grab your bag and head to the door, as if making Loki wish he could have you is just another errand you run.

“You’ll want me tomorrow,” he calls out before you leave, voice hoarse and strangled.

Bastard.

I want you today.

You give him a cold smile, thin ice that’s already cracking. “Good luck with that.”

* * * *

He knows he’s losing—three nights in a row he’s lost sleep because of you, and tonight it’s making him livid.

Gods, he wants you.

Badly.

For selfish and vain reasons, he knows, but that doesn’t change anything. He wants you, and Loki Odinson does what he wants.

It’s the only power he’s been given his entire life, just the power to control what he gets, what he does; the only way for him to feel a sick control of himself is to stop at nothing to get or do what he wants.

But he wants you.

He’s tired of wanting.

Loki won his stupid game today. You played to his rules, you called him your sweetheart, he called you his darling, he pushed aside his more carnal desires long enough to win…but today when he kissed you, you broke down in tears.

Victory is sour.

It was supposed to work—give in to the clearly wrong desire to be together for three days only, try it knowing it’s a guise, just to empty your systems of each other before Loki leaves for Asgard once and for all.

He’s back in his chambers, alone, noticing too much: too big of a bed, too big of a shower, everything is too big just for him. After a painful shower trying to scrub your touch out of his skin, he lays in his too big bed and lets himself slip.

It’s a pipe dream, the fantasy of a child, but he dredges it up from the pits of his mind before he can stop himself.

A hand intertwined with his, soft lips against his own. A smile for him across a room, chiming laughter at his doing. A home, just for him and the blank face that’s filled this spot for centuries, a home with a bed that wouldn’t feel so empty.

You start taking that blank space and suddenly it’s you, all you and you’re holding a child, a baby that looks like him, you’re smiling for Loki, laughing with his child and holding out your hand to him. Then he kisses you and you don’t cry.

Oh gods above, he wants you.

The god rolls onto his stomach in the empty bed and buries his face in the pillows; you’re kissing him with gentle lips, whispering in his ear as he shows you the Asgardian night sky, softly touching him with warm hands that only make him crave more of you.

He needs to stop thinking about this—his eyes close and you’ve knocked his book out of his hands to take its place, straddling his lap and kissing away every last trouble or insecurity he’s ever felt in all the years he’s been alive.

Stop. this.

The worst part is that now he knows you want him, too.

The projection of you in his mind reaches for the hem of your shirt and Loki’s eyes fly wide open—NO.

Not crossing that line, you said. He has to respect that.

“I want you,” Loki whispers aloud, hating himself for actually forming the words in the air in front of him. “I want you, yesterday, today, and tomorrow.”

* * * *

You’re no better off, back on earth, but when Loki materialises on the sidewalk on your walk to work, the last thing you’re even close to feeling is happy to see him.

“You won,” you snap, taking another bite of your half a bagel and not slowing your pace. “Leave me alone, Loki.”

“Please listen to me.” He’s walking like royalty, a cool and collected facade, but you can hear the desperation in his voice. “For just a moment, please, give me a chance.”

A shake of your head and you cross the street, followed close behind by the persistent god. “Your coffee’s gone cold,” he hums after a moment, hands clasped behind his back. “Let me get you a fresh cup, ten minutes is all I ask.”

A sip of the coffee that you just bought for upwards of five dollars tells you Loki definitely turned that cappuccino ice cold just now. 

Asshole.

“I’m only doing this for the coffee,” you tell him as you stand in line at the nearest coffee shop, Loki next to you trying to count bills and sort a handful of coins.

Disgustingly domestic, he notices as he drops a couple coins, this is practically a date. Standing in line together, buying each other things. You grabbing the money out of his hand and counting it for him, calling him an idiot.

His heart swells.

Of course, it’d be nice if you felt the same. Or would give him even half a smile.

But…your brow stays furrowed as you shove past him after ordering, flopping into a seat by the window and taking an angry bite of your bagel. He follows cautiously, wishing he could understand you.

“Well?” You wave a hand at the chair across the table. “Start talking.”

“You want me.” He sits back in his chair, looking so damn sure of himself. “And I’m not going to be the one to keep you from what you want.”

“No.”

“What?”

You grab your fresh cup of coffee, nod to the god across the table, and stand to leave. “I don’t want you. Thank you for the drink, I’m leaving now.”

“No!” Loki shoots to his feet and grabs your arm, making you jump and wrench your arm from his grip. He quickly drops you and holds his hand up. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, please…please stay. Just a second longer.”

Against your better judgment, you slowly sit back down.

“You say you lost the game,” Loki starts, carefully stepping around his words. “Which means you admit to falling in love with me. Yes?”

“Those were the rules.” You drum your fingers on the table, unamused.

“If you have fallen in love with me…then you want me.”

“No.”

Loki’s fist hits the table with a loud thud. “Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Why not?” The facade cracks and Loki slumps in his chair, shoulders sagging like a defeated man. “At least tell me why, what you mean. Please.”

“You made me a game, Loki.” You can’t help but laugh, humourless and cold. “You literally made any feelings we had for each other into a game, idiot, and now you think that made me fall for you??”

He gives a tiny shrug. “I…competing allows me to win.”

“So you’re afraid of losing?”

“No,” he snaps, and you raise an eyebrow at him that makes him scowl. “No, I’m not afraid of losing. Don’t make me into a child.”

“Look,” you sigh, dropping your forehead to your hand. “If you’re just going to deny everything I say then there’s no point in us talking.”

Arms cross. Lips press together. A wave hitting a seaside cliff, unmoving.

“I just don’t understand,” he finally mutters, and you take a drink as he searches for the right words. “I…I want you.”

“You admit that?”

He hesitates and looks down at the table. “Yes.”

“You made me a game,” you remind him, finishing your breakfast and picking up your bag again. “You made me a game and said you won, but I guess we both lost. Thanks again for the coffee, Loki.”

You’re halfway out the door when a cold hand grabs yours and spins you back around. “Loki, I’m going to be late…”

“I get it.” He brings your hand to his lips and you try not to cringe. “I understand. You’re not a game, and that was my mistake.”

“And?”

The god smiles, a desperate and pleading attempt to show himself to you, getting nothing in return. “You’re not a game, you…you are the prize, coveted by many but won by few—”

“Go home, Loki.”

You’ve pulled your hand from his grip and walked out the door before he can even process what just happened.

* * * *

“I want you!” He’s running, for the first time you’ve seen, he’s running after you and dodging people on the busy sidewalks as he calls after you. “I admit to it, I want you, please—”

You turn on your heel and he nearly crashes into you, chest to chest for a blissful second before your finger is in his face, sharp as your words.

“Why would I want someone who wants me??” You jab your finger into his chest. “Someone who wants me all to themselves, as a prize, a trophy, someone so selfish all they can think of is wanting me—”

“What are you talking about??” Loki feels on the verge of tears; disgusting.

“I don’t want you, Loki.”

“You said you fell for me, said that I won, what is that supposed to mean then??”

“I don’t want you,” you repeat, shaking your head in disbelief at the young god raging in front of you. “I want to love you, Loki, I don’t want you.”

People around the two of you keep pushing, the throng nudging your shoulders as you stare at each other, Loki’s mind racing.

“I’m not a prize for you to win.” You give him a small smile and shoulder your bag. “If all I am to you is something you want, then I don’t think I can love you. Go back home.”

He can’t tear a single word from his throat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you laugh and rest a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But you need to grow up. Maybe stop by when you’re mature enough to separate wanting from needing, lust and love, and maybe we can talk.”

Want and need, lust and love...his head spins and the god feels faint.

“I can’t wait for you, though.” Your smile turns sad, at least he likes to think it did. “Go home, Loki.”

Watching you walk away might be the hardest thing Loki has ever had to do.

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

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen  @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @vast-ish @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @little-scintilla @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai

[barr-uni]

Reasons Steven Universe (the character) is autistic!

This is a list I made for myself!

Hyper empathy! He always feels how others feel and it influences his powers and the way he helps others or learn about his mother.

Sensory issues! I have noticed steven cover his ears when things get too loud. One example is in the episode log date where he covers his ears at the camp pining hearts intro.

Special intrests! He has several things he likes, but he usually tends to get really into them from what we get to see. Such as his love for crying breakfast friends, his strong feelings towards Connie's book series, and how eager he gets to use his TV for games, shows, and movies

Stims! Steven often grabs his shirt when he is feeling strong emotions. He obviously loves dancing and singing. He walks and paces, And he repeats words!

Misunderstanding other's sarcasm/ taking things literally. In the episode the new Lars, he would take things that Sadie said literally, saying that he thinks roller coasters are fun after Sadie tells him he is an "emotional roller coaster" while she is upset with the real Lars' behavior

Same foods! Steven likes most of the same foods like his fry bits (maybe he cant est full fries because they are aren't as good as the bits to him!), his cookie cats, donuts, waffles and bagels, and hamburgers and hotdogs. From my memory, steven doesnt really eat "healthy" food, and likes fairly specific foods. Most common same foods aren't "healthy" food

Infodumping! Steven likes to share his knowledge about stuff he likes to other people, even though a lot of the time they dont understand it. He gets very excited to share. Some examples are him wanting to share his knowledge about baseball in hit the diamond, his bag review video and him telling his cloud Version of Rose about his game!

I had so much fun making this and worked super hard! I want to add more but I have reached the image limit :-( ... This is peobabaly the biggest infodump I have ever made. I really hope that fellow autistic and/or ADHD people can see themselves in steven too! 💜💕💜💕

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Barren: Chapter 12

Ships: QPR Remile, Pining Moralogince, Eventual LAMP

Words: 2,393

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, food mentions, guns, death of unnamed characters, running from the law, blood, swearing, caps

Tags: Due to the length of the tallest from this chapter on I’ll be doing tags in a reblog of the original post!

Previous / Next

---

“We have the schedules downloaded,” Logan said, standing over Virgil’s bed.

“Holy fucking shit dude!” Virgil yelled, heart racing as he opened his eyes.

“Is something the matter, Virgil?”

“YES! Holy fuck!” Virgil sat up in bed, pushing his hair back with his fingers. “You can’t just wake people up like you’re going to steak their fucking souls, shitbag!”

“Ah,” Logan murmured, “my apologies.”

Virgil shook his head and sighed. “No, it’s... fine. Sorry for calling you a shitbag.”

Logan’s face softened and his eyebrows raised almost in mild shock. His shoulders dropped for a small moment and he bit his lip in concentration. In a swift second he had hardened back into his cold persona. He gestured to hanger and costume bag in his hand. “Remy adjusted my old uniform to fit your size,” he said.

“Is this the one you... got shot in?” Virgil asked, wincing slightly.

“No, of course not,” he lied. “Now get ready quickly. We leave at 8:30.”

“What time is it?” Virgil groaned.

“Roughly 5:15 in the morning.”

Virgil fell back into his pillows. “This bunker is a fucking nightmare!”

+

Patton ran his fingers through Roman’s hair as he watched the rise and fall of his chest. The previous night had been horrible. Roman had slammed the door behind him as he walked in and cried for nearly an hour, the second he was in Patton’s arms. Patton had always had some feelings for Logan and Roman, and he knew Roman had feelings for Logan as well; seeing them fight was devastating.

Roman started to wake up, leaning into Patton’s touch as he squeezed his eyes closed. “Good morning, my prince,” Patton whispered, pulling him closer. He felt almost guilty for holding so gently and close. Guilty for holding him like a husband. “It’s time to wake up, my brave knight.”

“Pattooooon,” Roman whined, rolling over so that their faces were inches apart. His face began to burn as he opened his eyes and placed his fingers gently on Patton’s chest. Just before he could feel his heartbeat, Patton moved his hand away, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Yes, angel?”

“Why do you do this?”

“Because if you’re too flustered to go back to sleep then you have no choice but to wake up,” Patton explained.

Roman’s face dropped slightly as he muttered a soft, “oh,” and pulled himself out of bed. “Your plan worked, you evil genius.”

“Come on,” Patton laughed. “Logan’s the genius here.” Roman froze for a moment and Patton instantly knew he made a mistake. “Roman, I’m sorry I-“

“Don’t take yourself down to that asshole’s level,” he said dryly.

“Roman,” Patton said authoritatively, “we both know how you feel about him. How we both feel about him.”

Roman clenched his fists as tears rolled from his eyes.

“You need to talk to him,” Patton continued. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. He cares about all of us; he cares about you, Roman. He just... doesn’t know how to show it.”

Roman thought back to the kiss. He wiped tears from his cheeks as he remembered seeing Logan flush with lips swollen from his own. “I will,” he whispered. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Patton said, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I love you, Princey.”

Roman let out a shaky breath. “I love you too, puffball.”

+

The bunker was what Virgil considered to be the textbook definition of organized chaos. Remy and Roman had been rushing back and forth each holding three conversations at once and Virgil couldn’t keep up with a single one. At some point someone had handed him a cup of coffee; he didn’t see who. He was frozen in place, not sure of who or where he could exist near without getting run over.

“Ready for your first big day?” Emile asked, sliding a bagel sandwich across the kitchen counter to him. Virgil took the plate with an awkward smile and a sip of black coffee. “You’ll be fine,” he said, but it was clear from his tone that the therapist didn’t fully believe his own words. “Remy and Roman would never let anything bad happen to you.”

Virgil took a glance towards Roman. “And neither would Logan. I- I know he’s off the mission, but, I trust that he cares about us.” He smiled and felt something light and soft growing in his chest. “I trust that he’s looking out for us.”

“45 minutes to go time!” Remy yelled and he and Roman quickly got up and hurried in separate directions.

“You might want to get into uniform,” Emile winked.

Virgil hurriedly finished his sandwich and coffee and slid the dishes to Emile to put in the sink. “Thanks, Picani!” He ran off to the room and quickly stripped himself of his hoodie and jeans. He opened the bag and gently brushed his fingers over the light blue fabric of the shirt and the navy blue pants. He was almost ashamed to put them on.

The shirt fit snugly around his shoulders and hips. The pants were hemmed to his ankles and fit perfectly. He found a pair of polished black shoes sitting under his desk and slid them on. He looked in the mirror and for the first time in his life he felt- and looked- like a confident adult.

Roman’s eyes widened slightly when he passed by and it was clear that Logan was a little more than impressed. “Lookin’ sharp,” Remy teased with a finger gun and a wink.

“I’d say the same to you,” Virgil laughed. “Is that your good leather jacket?”

Remy presses a kiss to Emile’s cheek and smirked. “Yep! It’s my lucky one. I have a feeling today is going to be a good day.”

“We need all the good feelings we can get,” Roman said as he dangled his keys in the air. “Boys, let's rollout.”

+

Virgil had almost forgotten how strange the bunker’s garage was. They climbed into Roman’s Jeep with Remy sitting in the back and drove onto that same hydraulic lift that had lowered Virgil into his freedom, now it lifted him back to the world that wanted him dead. He thought back to Roman and Logan’s statement. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that Logan was his friend. Logan cared for him; he cared for all of them. He hoped Roman knew that too.

When they arrived at the facility Remy handed Virgil a black pen. “Pick a name, word, whatever,” he said. “No one will read it but without the ink, you’re screwed.” Virgil thought back to that first meeting with Logan, took a breath, and pressed the pen to his skin.

He followed Remy like a shadow when they entered. He kept his head down just enough to avoid eye contact but mirrored Remy’s posture- shoulders back, legs straight, chest out, and chin up. It was an almost painful position to hold.

They found them in a cell just a story below Virgil’s old one. His heart sank when he saw Elliot hovered in a corner and starving next to a tray of untouched slop. “Don’t stare,” Remy whispered. Virgil stepped towards the cell. “Kid!”

“I was like you once,” Virgil said and Elliot looked up at him in fear. “Would you like to be like me now?”

“You?” Elliot asked. “I’d never want to be like the scum who holds people against their will only to have them killed in some type of freak show.”

“Virge, stop,” Remy seethed.

“What are you-”

Remy grabbed Virgil’s arm and they continued marching through the halls. “Be patient, young padawan,” he whispered. “And keep your mouth shut. We need a few more rounds.”

“Why?” Virgil whispered, trying to keep his legs straight as he marched closely behind.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he repeated. “We need to survey the rest of the area before completing our mission. You know who’s listening or who’s about to walk in.”

Virgil nodded and continued to march; his thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Logan’s cold and calculated stare as he ran equations and schedules through his head. Virgil shook back his thoughts. What was the opposite of Stockholm syndrome? Was there any real logic in falling in love with your rescuer? Sure it happened in fairytales and make-believe but this wasn’t a fairytale- this wasn’t even a Grimm’s version- it was so much worse.

No, he wasn’t in love with Logan. He couldn’t be. He and Logan were friends and besides that, Roman is in love with Logan. There was no situation where one of them wasn’t heartbroken, and Roman was heartbroken enough anyway.

A few hours passed and Virgil’s legs were beginning to cramp from all the marching and walking upstairs. “Okay,” Remy whispered. “It’s go time.”

They returned to Elliot’s cell and Virgil felt like he had gone back in time. Remy unlocked the cell door and pulled a makeshift tool out of his pocket. He used the tool to open up the bar windows and pulled a handgun out of his pocket. He steadied his gaze and aimed outside where a few guards had been patrolling the area.

He held his wrist up, letting his sleeve fall so that Elliot could read the ink. Barren. “My name is Virgil Bianchi and we’re here to help you.”

“Virgil,” Elliot murmured. “My- My friend Kai, we... why are you back here?”

He pulled the trigger and one of the guards laid dead on the grass.

“Remy,” Virgil gasped.

“A small price to pay for freedom,” he said. “Now let’s go.”

Virgil grabbed Elliot’s hand and they ran, following Remy down flights of stairs and long hallways. “They’re catching up!” Elliot yelled.

“Not if I can help it,” Remy said. He opened up a cell and ripped open a window. “Let’s go.”

“That’s a two-story jump,” Virgil said. “There’s no way we’re going to make it.”

“Scared of a few broken bones, Virgil?” Remy teased, working with something outside the window that neither Virgil nor Elliot could see.

“Yes!” Virgil shouted. “And reasonably so! I’m reasonably afraid of any of us getting hurt!”

Remy held a rope out towards Virgil. “None of us are going to get hurt,” he said, somewhat more seriously. “Not if I can do anything about it.”

He helped Virgil (and then Elliot) climb down the rope before sliding down himself. Virgil shook out his hands, muttering something about rope burn.

“INTRUDERS!” A guard yelled and the three of them bolted.

They ran and that feeling of his chest tightening up returned to Virgil once more. His throat burned and his back felt as stiff as stone. Guards chased after them loading their guns and beginning to fire. Remy quickly pulled out his phone and hit speed-dial. “Roman!” he yelled, panting for air. “We’ve only got a few seconds without you, buddy!”

“On it,” Roman said, turning the ignition in his jeep and backing out of the alley towards the building.

Virgil opened up the door to the backseat and hurriedly helped Elliot inside. In his moment of standing still, he found himself gasping for air and wheezing. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be in the bunker. If someone had told him that all those months ago, he would have thought that they were delusional.

Remy snapped around at a familiar noise. His eyes widened. “VIRGIL! LOOK OUT!” he yelled, diving in front of him. The two fell to the ground as the pain shot through Remy’s body. When Virgil sat up, he could see the blood staining the chest of his white tee shirt.

“Remy, you- you saved my life,” Virgil said, too shocked to even cry.

“You need to go,” Remy whispered, coughing up blood.

“Remy, I-”

“Go!” he repeated. “And tell Emile I- I love him.”

Remy laid back on the grass, closing his eyes but listening to everything around him. Virgil got in the car and as they drove off Remy opened his eyes just to watch his family head towards their freedom one last time.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, racing away from the guards. They all seemed to be crowding around Remy’s body. Virgil kept his gaze on his hands and away from the car mirrors. They slowed down once they reached a familiar path in the woods. Roman put a hand on Virgil’s thigh. “You did the right thing.”

“How? He saved my life and I... I just left him there.”

“You respected his wishes,” Roman said softly, rubbing his thumb against Virgil’s knee. The weight of his hand and the gentle motion was calming; he let out a slow exhale.

When they arrived back at the bunker there was hardly time for introductions. They found Patton and Logan sitting in the kitchen with Emile- and he was sobbing harder than Virgil had ever seen anyone cry before. “What’s going on?”

“It burns,” Emile said between sobs, gripping his wrist in his hand. “It burns so much.”

Virgil walked closer watching that black of Emile’s mark turn into brown. “It looks like my mother’s,” he whispered and the man in front of him stared up with wide eyes.

Logan stood up and locked eyes with Roman. They both glanced back towards the garage and then towards each other holding their breaths in a silent conversation. Logan started to run forward but without his cane he only fell into Roman’s arms, sobbing into his ear. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Remy was a brave man, he-”

“Not about Remy,” Logan said. “I mean- of course, it’s horrible, but- I meant about you.”

“What?” Roman asked, trying to stay still and emotionless. He couldn’t break again.

“I was so wrong with the way I handled things and-“ he took a deep breath- “One word from you will silence me on this subject forever. You were right to be angry I was, objectively, a major jackass. And I...” He steadied his breath, wiping away a few tears as he clutched Roman even tighter. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Roman said nothing but lowered his head against Logan’s and held him tightly. Just as Emile’s mark has faded, without Remy their lives were all about to change. They could only wonder if it would be for better or worse.

[sweetasssuga]

Yoonkook Fic Recs

personal favorites = ♡

new additions = ϟ

flower boys by siderum [3k] [not rated]

“it was pretty,” namjoon protests, trying to defend himself. “and it was a gift from a fan. wouldn’t she have been troubled to have to take it home?”

“and you brought it back to let it die?” yoongi interjects, dry as sand. he rises to his feet, dusting off his jeans. “you gonna take care of it, namjoonie?”

“how hard can it be,” namjoon says, but he sounds hesitant, like he knows his own annihilatory powers will trump his determination. “it’s a small plant. it needs water, sunlight, and air. we can provide all of those. piece of cake.”

(yoongi and jungkook take care of a plant together.)

bergen, 4:30 a.m. by bellamees [3k] [mature] 

“its coming of age day, hyung. i’m allowed to be reckless.”

wind chimes by ial [3.8k] [teen] 

so, that: that is the bottom line. they’re just roommates.

(yoonkook, one apartment and lousy communication.)

you and me are like peaches and cream by wormkun [4k] [general audiences] 

where jungkook is the new employee at the ice cream shop where yoongi works, and yoongi really, really didn't ask for any of this.

(or, jungkook is pretty and yoongi is weak)

Pitch Perfect by paperorchids [4k] [teen] ϟ

Yoongi doesn’t do well with heat.

It makes him sweaty and flushed and irritable, all things any sane human would be thoroughly repulsed by.

But unfortunately for him, Jeon Jeongguk is not a sane human by any means.

you and me (we're poetry) by stxrlight [5k] [teen] ϟ

“—and I just… wanted to stay here. If that’s okay.” Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor, pink dusted over his cheeks.

This, then, is the first time Yoongi is hit with startling clarity: that somewhere along the line, without him even realizing— he started taking just as much comfort in Jungkook’s presence as Jungkook does with him.

(or: the moments in which yoongi falls in love)

All Of You by dreamingdaegu [5k] [mature] 

Jungkook's on a mission. Yoongi's confused.

Just a short, sweet and silly yoonkook.

mi casa (with you i'mma feel rich) by 24sevenheaven [5k] [not rated] 

jimin hands the fair employee a few dollars, and so does taehyung—but when jungkook does, the man stops him.

"only two per car," the man says, and jungkook's stomach literally drops out of his body and onto the pavement.

(or: in which yoongi and jungkook are both third wheels at the fair, jungkook's scared of heights, and the ferris wheel is more than a little faulty.)

magic show by fruitily [5.6k] [teen]

“what happened? why are we running away? oh, my god, did you try to flirt and it went badly so you killed him?”

“sit down,” yoongi begs as he steers out of the parking lot, “no, i didn’t fucking kill him.” he tightens his grip around the wheel and takes a deep breath. “i have to find out if i can afford a cat. then i have to find out everything about taking care of a cat.”

“holy shit,” seokjin says, amazed, “this jungkook is powerful. i think he could’ve sold you like fifteen tarantulas, or an entire alpaca farm.”

or: jungkook works at a pet shop. yoongi is just here to get a damn fish.

color in your cheeks (the feeling flows both ways) by siderum [6k] [explicit] 

yoongi and jungkook get put together in a hotel room for the next tour.

just the two of them.

i want it, this love by stxrlight [6k] [teen] ϟ

“Why don’t you just ask him out?”

Jungkook lifts his entire body off the couch to turn and stare at Taehyung in disbelief. Taehyung’s expression remains impassive, as if he hadn’t just done the verbal equivalent of throwing a punch right into Jungkook’s gut.

“He’s my roommate.” Jungkook hisses. “This is literally the number one thing on the list of what not to do with your roommate.”

(or: yoonkook are roommates. cue the crises)

do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you by sugaretreat [6k] [explicit] 

Four months ago, Yoongi had caught Jeongguk’s hand before he’d reached out to touch him and told him we can’t, but Jeongguk said please and Yoongi had broken, broken as he always did when Jeongguk touched him like that, gentle and reverent. Four months ago, Yoongi had told him no more than this, no one can know and Jeongguk had agreed.

(Min Yoongi finds he has feelings too big for his heart and can't quite put them into words. We need to talk about it, he thinks, only they never do. Jeongguk, on the other hand, has never needed to talk about it.)

the weather in busan by fruitily [6.7k] [teen] ♡

on sundays, jungkook listens to a strange little radio show while painting and may or may not be slightly in love with a voice.

on sundays, yoongi and taehyung host a strange little radio show out of the back of their van while fighting about things like maps and portable coffee makers and yoongi has no idea whether his voice is reaching anyone

until they get lost in busan.

(the universe has moved for us) by 777335 [7.1k] [teen]

It’s a pretty dream, Jeongguk decides. He will stay here in this pretty dream and listen while Yoongi tells Jeongguk pretty things. Listen to the rough low of Yoongi’s voice, slurred and heavy with dialect because he’s tired, thick like syrup. Jeongguk wants to eat the way Yoongi sounds, taste Yoongi’s words, get his lips sticky with them, roll them around in his mouth like hard candies, suck on them, let the sweetness of every syllable rest on his tongue.

l'heure bleue by pursuit [8k] [mature] 

“i can’t sleep.”

or; yoongi is definitely weak.

Five Years by Holyhoseok [8k] [teen] ϟ

"I'm guessing you're Jungkook, right?" Yoongi asks with a hint of amusement as he avoids Jimin's and Taehyung's piercing gaze. It takes Jungkook a moment to react which makes him blush at how awkward he's being, gives a small nod to the other's question.

"Yeah, and i'm guessing you're, uh," Jungkook trails off, not knowing what to call the boy. Yoongi grins, eyes glued to Jungkook's.

"Yoongi. But just call me hyung," he responds easily, completely ignoring the couple in favor of watching the boy. Jungkook just about squirms in his seat at how intensively Yoongi's looking at him, having to break eye contact every so often as to not become flustered from all of the attention.

"Okay, hyung." Jungkook says softly, making Yoongi smile wide.

Jungkook's never had a crush before, but he thinks that this is what it must be like.

Or, Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi have been pining over each other for five years

we'll dream the same dream by hocs [9.6k] [mature] ϟ

“wait,” jungkook calls after yoongi after he’s walked through the door. yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and sees the freshman struggling to catch up despite wearing heelys, failing miserably at building up enough momentum.

he wonders briefly how jungkook manages to make it up flights of stairs or live life in general. then he’s zooming his way over, tongue stuck out in concentration. he's gripping his bagel so tightly that it turns his knuckles white.

“i’m jungkook,” he says when he’s close enough, almost loses control and cracks his head open on a metal pole. yoongi has to grab his arm to keep him steady. jungkook's skin is soft but yoongi’s fingers barely sink in, bicep solid under his touch.

“yoongi,” he returns breathlessly.

(ex. yoongi finds his soulmate, loses his soulmate, and then jeon jungkook nearly kills him)

Stumbling on Diamonds by endearings [9.7k] [teen] 

“Finished,” Jeongguk grins, a shy, tiny thing. “Tell me if you want anything fixed, we still have a few minutes left.”

Yoongi hums, studying himself in the mirror with careful eyes before turning around, a smile already curling half his mouth. “You made me look kind of pretty, Jeongguk-ssi,” and then his grin is suddenly blooming, all of his edges worn smooth. “Thank you.”

And Jeongguk wants to tell him he looked pretty before - wants to tell Yoongi that his eyes are lovely, the shape of his mouth even lovelier, all of his features delicate and soft and sort of sweet.

“You were already kind of pretty, hyung,” Jeongguk says quietly, pulling his jacket tight around him before ducking his head, embarrassed.

(Alternatively: Yoongi is an idol and Jeongguk is his makeup artist)

describe a morning you woke without fear by 777335 [10k] [mature]

“No way.” Jeongguk says, breath ghosting across Yoongi’s cheeks. “Holy shit, I love you.”

Yoongi freezes, and then shifts, pulls back.

“You don’t know me.” He looks anywhere but Jeongguk. “I’m very unlovable.” He laughs, so it sounds like a joke.

Jeongguk doesn’t laugh. He blinks slowly at Yoongi, eyes round and big, lashes catching, like a sleepy owl from a storybook. It’s fucking enchanting. Yoongi looks away again.

“No, I’m a very good judge of character.” Jeongguk says. “I love you.” He repeats.

(Yoongi meets Jeongguk in the fall, when everything outside is starting to die, and they fall in that good, slow, sweet and sticky like warmed honey kinda love.)

love me lights out by marienadine [10.6k] [mature]

Min Yoongi is the student TA for Digital Mix Techniques 201, aka Jeongguk's eight a.m. this semester, aka his thrice-weekly reminder that he is, in fact, gay.

That's how it starts.

likes me / likes me not by fruitily [10.7k] [explicit] 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” yoongi says elusively.

“hyung,” taehyung sighs, “you literally come here to hold hands with the pretty nail artist.”

soft melodies and softer touches bystrangedesires [11k] [explicit]

I see the way you look at me, hyung.

Yoongi's world stands still, and in that moment, he wants nothing more than to wring Jimin's neck. It's Jeongguk, it has to be Jeongguk, who else would it be? Yoongi knows many dancers--unfortunately Jimin's one of them--but there's only one that he's on close terms with, and whose number he doesn't have.

Jeongguk. It's Jeongguk. It's fucking Jeongguk.

(OR: Jeongguk's a contemporary dancer, and Yoongi is his academy's pianist).

seven inches from the midday sun (but you're so cool) by bellamees [12k] [teen] 

"i'm your friendly neighborhood spider-man," the sentence sounds absolutely ludicrous when the boy says it, with awkward enthusiasm. he's definitely young, yoongi can tell. spider-man(boy) holds the ladder, and it stops creaking altogether. "it's my duty to help, ahjussi."

blaze it brightly by thebestofme [13.6k] [teen]

Yoongi is supposed to be secretly teaching Avatar Taehyung waterbending, but his cute friend is distracting. But there’s something odd about Jeongguk.

witches petals by declemonts [14k] [general audiences] 

"is there anything i can help you with?"

(or: yoongi has an affinity for cute (witch) florists)

come around sundown by notyoongs [14k] [teen] ϟ

“if you don’t put your wands away this instant, i’ll be forced to dole out swift and immediate punishment, and i doubt either of your teams will be happy to be missing their captains at this afternoon’s game.”

“seokjin, you wouldn’t,” says yoongi.

“oh, but i would,” says seokjin. “wands down, now. go back to your own house table, yoongi. and for god’s sake, stop with the sexual tension. i’m practically choking on it from over here.”

(or: on the pitch, yoongi and jeongguk are rival quidditch captains capable of doing the worst to each other. off the pitch, there’s a lot less yelling and a lot more… hand-holding?)

As You Wish by theimpossibleimpala [16k] [explicit] 

OG Prompt: "I need a fic where yoongi's whipped for jungkook and does everything he asks him to do, no matter how ridiculous the request is. Jungkook...keeps asking for small things. Like cute pictures of holly or extra large portions of lamb skewers. It goes like that until the requests become less and less innocent and yoongi doesn't hesitate to drop to his knees when jungkook asks him to."

eternal sunshine by theimpossibleimpala [16k] [teen] 

Maybe it's coincidence that Yoongi's car breaks down and there's someone there to help him. But the longer he stays away from home, the more it feels less like luck and more like destiny.

very much like the moon by kookwells [17.5k] [teen] ♡ 

min yoongi is big feelings material. min yoongi is hans zimmer soundtrack, frenching in the rain, quantum heart nut material, and every time jungkook sees him he feels at once too big for his body and like he wants to take a running jump off a diving platform. jungkook has known yoongi for three months and he already can’t imagine his life yoongi-less.

OR,

jungkook learns how to wake up.

And Then It Swallowed Me by nonikkou [19k] [teen] ♡ 

He fears being buried. 

twenty-four by fruitily [20k] [teen] ♡

“i’m doing a social experiment and writing about it,” taehyung says easily. “i decided to handcuff two people together for twenty-four hours and have them report back to me on the experience. you guys are an ideal pair for this, really, because of your contradictory lifestyles. kookie goes to the gym every day, yoongi hasn’t seen the sun in what, four years -“

“jungkook has a semi-healthy sleep schedule, and yoongi texted me at two a.m. asking if i want to grab dinner,” namjoon supplies.

“i am the pinnacle of health,” yoongi snaps. the handcuffs clink as jungkook lifts their arms.

“so you just. handcuffed us together while we were sleeping?"

high on (you and me) by ial [20k] [explicit] ♡

neon lights and pulsing beats, and a single star in a sea of dark.

that's how yoongi will later say it started; with hues of blue and purple and pink and red, and one radiant star. and then many stars, and then heat, and then the morning sun. it'll be sappy, and he'll only tell the story once, but it'll be too late either way.

yoongi falls at—

so far away (don't fall away) by uoongs [21.9k] [not rated] 

“The spare to the heir, Joon-ah,” Yoongi drawled through the buzz of two glasses of whiskey he’s already admitted to having before Namjoon showed up. “That’s what I am. The spare. Married off.”"Elizabeth II was a spare, you know."(arranged marriage sugakookie that no one except me asked for HAAHHA)

trophy by uoongs [22k] [not rated] ♡

“it’s almost like you’re his trophy wife,” jimin giggled. jeongguk’s eyeballs popped out of their sockets and would be bouncing on linoleum if that were physically possible.

“you’re right,” yoongi snapped his fingers. “i’m a goddamn trophy.”

(alternatively: yoongi wants gucci, and jeongguk wants...yoongi?)

like real people do by 777335 [22.6k] [teen]

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes, “I’m bad at this.”

“Bad at what?” Jeongguk asks, blinks up at Yoongi.

Flirting with pretty boys, Yoongi thinks and is pretty sure he shouldn’t say, which mostly works except for the part where he just ends up saying,

“Flirting.”

A tiny shy smile flutters on the edge of Jeongguk’s lips.

“Are you flirting with me, hyung?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi rasps.

Jeongguk hums. “Oh good.” He says, disastrously soft and pretty, “oh good, I was hoping you were.”

//

or magic isn't real. maybe if yoongi tells himself that enough it'll be true.

i don't know much about love, but i bet you could teach me by ial, timber (calculus) [24k] [general audiences] ♡

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, face warm. "Your—your hair looks. Good. Yeah."

Yoongi clears his throat. "...Number three: Jeon Jungkook must give me a compliment every day from now on," he says after a beat. “To practice.” Jungkook flushes even harder.

"Hyung!"

"No, no, it's been spoken to the æther now. My rules are law, Jungkook," Yoongi shrugs.

Or, Jeon Jungkook isn't really all that familiar with the dating game, but maybe Min Yoongi can help.

my youth is yours by marienadine [25k] [teen]  ♡

“What did you say your name was?” says Yoongi, after an eternity of awkward silence.

“Jeongguk,” says Jeongguk. “Um. My name is Jeon Jeongguk. I’m a freshman.”

“Oh,” says Yoongi. “Fucking hell.”

(In which Jeon Jeongguk goes to college, makes some friends, and learns he’s got a lot of growing to do.)

algae bloom by cherryjjk [25.8k] [explicit]

“You have no goddamn idea, kid!” Yoongi screams, shoving Jeongguk away from him hard, just to get some space, “I hate myself for doing this to you. Every single day I wake up wishing it could be simpler. Wishing that I could have fallen for Jimin, Hoseok, fuck, anyone else but you.”

alternatively; yoonkook sort out their feelings, together.

I know I'll fall in love with you, baby bywitheredleaf (micooled) [31k] [teen]

The soulmate/soulbond au where Yoongi is part of a famous rap duo and Jungkook is his diligent fanboy, they meet at a fansign and things escalate from there

(alt. Yoongi didn’t sign up for this)

don't wanna be fool, wanna be cool (baby i want it) by 24sevenheaven [32k] [not rated] ϟ

great, he's going to be introduced to a cute boy, tell his current (extremely embarrassing) dilemma to a cute boy, embarrass himself in front of a cute boy, get rejected by a cute boy, and then go home and cry. and then have to hide his face from said cute boy for the rest of his life.

all in twenty fucking minutes.

(in which jungkook's boyfriend of one month breaks up with him right before his older brother's wedding. too embarrassed to tell his mother he's been dumped, jungkook employs prodigal music genius and popular heartthrob min yoongi to be his date.

the thing is, jungkook should've known that min yoongi is bad, bad news.

everything goes wrong—until it starts going right.)

the other side of earth by shadowsinsounds [38k] [explicit] 

The guy was tiny, grumpy and hot, carrying an attitude like he was eight feet tall. Jungkook wanted, with a sudden furious fervor, to be pinned down and taken apart. By him.

Jungkook didn't know much, but at least he could now confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not heterosexual.

Now what?

my will is yours by orphan_account [43.8k] [mature] 

Jeongguk is cursed with perfect obedience; he can never disobey a direct order. It's a living hell until he meets Min Yoongi.

(Ella Enchanted!AU)

shake bend and break by ameliabedelias [48k] [mature] 

Min Yoongi takes in a stray cat. Jeon Jeongguk lives next door.

here comes the sun by fruitily [57k] [teen] ♡ 

“hey, hyung,” jungkook says in a tiny voice into his ear, “how are you? it’s been a minute.”

“it has, hasn’t it.” it’s been two years, which is not hard to believe, because holy fuck— “you got, um. tall.”

that’s not really it. jungkook was already taller than yoongi two years ago. and it’s not a drastic change by any means. it’s just that everything about him is… more. yoongi refuses to think of other words for it.

(or: yoongi comes back to summer camp and finds himself in something of a crisis.)

let the light in by sharpa [65.7k] [teen] ♡ 

There is magic in the world, but for years Jungkook has shied away from his gift. (It's intrusive, unwelcome, dangerous.) Now, he's in New York City, battling loneliness and a college course he hates. Until on one particularly bad day, he turns down a side street in East Village and his life changes forever.

(Or: six boys run a magical emporium together and Jeon Jungkook is looking for a place to belong.)

these hallowed halls by softlyblue [70.6k] 

“Bowtruckles,” Yoongi announces with grandeur, “Can suck my dick.”

The Hufflepuff table is next to the Slytherins; Hoseok looks over and winks, along with Jimin’s second-year friend (Taesung? Taehyung?) but a group of girls giggle, and one of the Hufflepuff prefects rolls his eyes, piecrust stuck to his chin.

“Just because the bowtruckles can suck your dick doesn’t mean they will,” says Gerry.

“Bowtruckles have caused me so much emotional damage in the last hour that they should suck my dick just to make up for it.”

Or, Yoongi goes to Hogwarts, and meets Jeongguk, and grows up.

Gusto d'Italia by AmeliaBedelia [78.9k] [explicit] ϟ

Jungkook turned towards the kitchen - and walked straight into the icy glare of Min Yoongi.

“Are you always this late?”

Jungkook tried to bite his tongue. “I was talking to – ”

“I don’t care who you were talking to,” Yoongi snapped. He had both arms crossed firmly over his chest as he continued to berate Jungkook in front of the rest of the staff. “How am I supposed to trust you to get my food out on time if you can’t follow a simple direction that I gave less than five minutes ago?”

Jungkook stared at his feet. “It won’t happen again, chef.”

“Better fucking not.”

-----

Jungkook always dreamed of becoming a chef in the future. When Yoongi, a culinary genius with unusual social skills, shows up in the kitchen of Gusto d'Italia, Jungkook becomes awestruck.

good as gold by cyphertonic [84k] [explicit] 

He's laying in bed one night when his thoughts culminate into an ache in his chest. He longs for a release for all the tension he feels building up in his body, crawling and clawing under his skin. He longs for more warm comfort from his hyung, for the peacefulness he felt held in his arms. He wraps his own arms around himself then, balling himself up in the sheets.He just wants to be taken care of, he realizes. 

He just wants Yoongi to take care of him.

while the city slept by notyoongs [87k] [explicit] ϟ

and maybe he’s still kind of drunk, and maybe he’s sleep-deprived. but maybe this night has just taught him that it doesn’t hurt to be open to new experiences, doesn’t hurt to let loose once in a while. this trip isn’t about being safe. this is about taking chances and having fun, and he looks over at jeongguk, who is excitedly telling namjoon and seokjin about a famous perfumery he wants to visit in paris, and yoongi just blurts out, “why don’t you come with us?”

(or: the seven of them are only traveling europe together for a few weeks, but it’s more than enough time for yoongi and jeongguk to fall in love, over and over, in every country they visit.)

if you love me won't you say something by 777335 [102k] [explicit] 

yoongi and jeongguk fall in love and then some.

strawberries & cigarettes by notyoongs [129k] [explicit] 

“i’m yoongi,” he says. “hoseok’s roommate? he asked if i would be willing to drive you to work so here i am.” jeongguk stares at yoongi’s outstretched hand—nails covered in chipped black polish, which are attached to a very long and veiny hand, which is coming out of a fucking leather jacket, which is thrown over a black shirt, which is tucked into a pair of very tight and ripped black jeans, which come to rest above a pair of black combat boots, and that’s just—not fair. at all.

somehow, jeongguk manages to make the part of his brain not connected to his dick work enough to raise his hand, grasping onto yoongi’s a little too tightly. he swallows thickly, praying to god that his face isn’t as red as it feels when he looks yoongi in the eye again and lets out a quiet, “hi.”

(or: yoongi is a bad boy, jeongguk is a baby boy, and opposites always attract.)