#gotta wear the same kit

[bombshellsandbluebells]

Minor detail I absolutely love is that after Sam and Jamie make up after the Dubai Air protest, they’re constantly next to each other or grabbing onto each other.

Other fun moments:

Jamie snapping for Sam after he talks about his favorite romcom actress.

Mid-game high fives.

How dare you interrupt my best friend’s special haircut moment.

Sam putting himself in front of Jamie so he doesn’t get hit after picking a fight with the other team.

And, of course, my favorite:

Jamie waiting for Sam so they can leave practice together.

They’re best friends, your honor.

Also, I get the sense that Jamie hasn’t really had a lot of close friends so as soon as Sam forgives him and they become friends, he gets immediately clingy. He’s like this is MY best friend I DO need to be touching him at all times or making sure he knows I love him in some way.

[jamietwat]

Your favorite moment between roy and jamie in the show?

Okay, this is way too hard to pick just one. And while for comedic and Roy is clearly not heterosexual purposes the scene with Jamie's bare ass and Roy blatantly staring at it and casting a spotlight on it is an honourable mention, it's not one of my top ones

My favourite moments are the ones when they drop the mask and have a vulnerable moment and how they accidentally became each other's go tos to talk to about feelings and unmask around. Love how they manage to be each other's biggest haters and supporters simultaneously

I ate up all the moments when Roy dropped the tough guy with no feelings act to be vulnerable and unprompted hand out information he hadn't talked to anyone else about to Jamie of all people against his better judgment, knowing that it's likely to be used against him. And how Jamie would drop the dickbag act to try to fix it, then be a prick again to break the tension

And I also ate up all the times when Jamie (who info drops about himself unprompted all the time) woud be vulnerable in a different way and let Roy get a glimpse behind the over the top cockiness

But I think if I have to choose one favourite it would be Roy hugging Jamie after his dad blew up on him in front of the whole team. Like it's such a turning point for them, but also said a whole lot about both of their characters as individuals that while everyone else was standing awkwardly not knowing what to do, Roy didn't even hesitate to go comfort him and that Jamie let him and clung to him instead of trying to shrug the situation off

[kineticpenguin]

You know, it's very funny that the right-wing had a fat bug up its ass about "virtue signalling" when they can't stop doing shit like this

It's like: yes, thank you. you have expensive kit and an agreeable muscle-to-fat ratio and you have the same opinion most other people have. thank you for signalling your virtue to us. We know that you are a good american boy. Liked shared and subscribed.

You have signaled your virtues and the signal has been received loud and clear, thank you. You really want us to know you're ready to hurt bad people.

except. I gotta say.

why did you go to all that effort only to wear these fuckin little boy shoes

[gallaghersgal]

Smoke & Mirrors || Lip Gallagher

chapter one of BORDERLINE.

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader (nickname: MK)

warnings & tags: the start of a SLOWburn. idiots with tension. mature for mentions of violence, smoking, swearing, canon typical dialogue and whatnot. y'all've seen the show!

chapter summary: lip gallagher has been your best friend since before you could remember. he's the smartest person you know, so it astounds you how someone like him can be oh so stupid. you're committed to investing in his future, even if he isn't. you won't let your best friend end up stuck on the southside.

a/n: ummmm hi!! wrote basically this whole thing in the last 24hrs. it's unedited and tbh if i look at it for one more second im gonna explode!! enjoy <33

wc: 2.9k

The crisp October air sends a chill down your spine as you usher your younger sister Caroline out the door for school. She groans and rolls her eyes when you grab her by the handle of her backpack, pulling her back to adjust her scarf. At a mere thirteen years old she already carries the same attitude you did at sixteen. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t wanna hear it. You were just sick, dad’ll have my head on a platter if I don’t make you bundle up.”

She stomps her foot, a stupid, childish action that has you mentally swearing to never have kids of your own. Helping raise this one was enough as it is. “It’s not even-” she starts, but you cut her off.

“I said I don’t wanna hear it. Wear your fucking scarf or I’m telling mom you make that tutor kid do your math homework.” You shove her head gently after securing the scarf around her neck and let her stomp down the stairs. “Don’t be a brat.”

She doesn’t answer, instead starting down the street towards the bus stop. Cigarette smoke wafts over the morning air from the Gallagher house. You turn to see Lip on the front stoop, blood shining on his brow as he smokes. You feel a twist in your gut. What did he get himself into this time, you think. The repetitive motion of locking the door comes like second nature and you spend the thirty odd seconds it takes worrying about the boy across the street.

When you turn towards the Gallagher house Caroline is already ahead of you, not waiting until she passes the chain-link fence to call out, “what happened to your face?”

You catch up in time to hear him scoff, “good morning to you too, Kit-Kat,” pulling out her childhood nickname, the one she still hates, that he gave to her when she was barely four. “‘S nothing. Battle scars an’ shit.”

“What the fuck kinda battle did’ya get yourself into?” you ask, leaning down to take his chin between your thumb and forefinger. The cut isn’t too bad, a lot of blood for a relatively small abrasion, but the skin around his eye is already blossoming a dark bruise. Lip stares at you as if to say ‘not in front of the kid,’ and you nod, fishing a five dollar bill out of your pocket. You were saving it for work, but Caroline’s silence is worth more. She raises an eyebrow, to which you snap, “just don’t tell mom, ‘kay? And don’t skip just ‘cause I'm skipping.”

Caroline turns to leave and you extend a hand to Lip, pulling him to stand. Eager fingers reach for his burnt-down cig when he goes to drop it, taking the final hit for yourself before stubbing it out on the sidewalk. “Greedy. Gotta buy y’own pack,” he remarks with a smirk. All it takes is a second to get back across the stress, and once you’re inside he unwraps the scarf from his neck. 

Your eyes catch on his bruised knuckles and you tilt your head to the side with a silent question, you gonna tell me what happened? He sighs, hearing you loud and clear despite not speaking a single word. “Got into it with Frank. He was givin’ Ian shit for no fuckin’ reason.”

“Mm,” you nod, and catch his hand after he runs it nervously through his curls. The bruises there aren’t as bad as the one on his eye, Frank must’ve only gotten one good, drunken swing in. No cuts either, which was good. For all his tough guy exterior, Lip Gallagher couldn’t stand the sting of peroxide. The less you need the better, you think, and a grin plays at your lips when you glance up at him, holding his injured hand up. “Think y’can roll a joint with these?”

His laugh is like music to your ears, revelling in the first grin you’ve seen from him this morning. “Yeah, yeah I can do that, y’wanna jus’ skip the whole day? We could catch a movie ‘r somethin’,” he suggests, following you upstairs to your room.

You shake your head, opening the door to your room for him. “Can't. Calc test in third period. Sit down, ‘m gonna get the first aid kit.” While you get the kit from the shelf in your closet you hear him open your desk drawer, pulling out the grinder and weed jar you keep hidden at the back.

“You got a shirt or somethin’ I could change into? This one smells like Frank’s fuckin’ booze,” Lip scoffs. He shrugs the tee over his head and lights another cigarette, his eyes following your every move with that same boyish twinkle you’d grown fond of over the years. It was always good to remember things weren’t getting to him, not too bad. 

You cast a glare in his direction, silently scolding him, ‘you know better, let me open the window,’ but he only grins in response. Pale morning light illuminates the room when you pull back your blackout curtains and crack the window. The city is still quiet–or, as quiet as it gets in Chicago–and the sounds of gentle wind and birdsong fall softly on your ears.

You settle at his side, first aid kit in one hand and a gray and black sweater of his in the other. Curious fingers reach for a small cut on his shoulder. “What’s this one from?” You trace the gash. It isn’t deep either, but it’ll need to be cleaned so it doesn’t get infected.

“It’s, uh, ’s nothin,” he brushes you off, to which you shoot him a glare. That sets him straight. In a low mumble he simply states, “beer bottle.”

Rage seethes inside you, your jaw tensing as you wet a cotton ball with peroxide. You keep any comments to yourself, not sure how LIp will react. You’re aware of his more than complicated familial relationships–you’d grown up with thim, seeing Frank’s drinking get worse, and the aftermath of Monica leaving–but if there was one constant with the Gallagher kids, it was family first, above everything. You had your opinions of Frank, and you knew Lip shared your distaste more than anything, but that didn’t take away the sensitive nature of the topic. So, you stay quiet, dabbing at the wound with a gentle hand. The sting draws a sharp hiss from him, and it’s then that you realize how flushed he is, his cheeks, neck and chest are a soft pink color. Graciously, you pretend not to notice, so as not to embarrass him further.

When the cut is cleaned and covered with a bandage Lip takes his sweater, pulling it over his head. It leaves his hair mussed and he smoothes a hand through his curls while you tilt his chin up, inspecting the cut on his brow. Blue eyes stare up at you with a vulnerability you’re not used to seeing from the boy you grew up with. At least you know he’s comfortable with you. That’s all.

Comfortable. Friendly. Nothing more. The same as it’s always been.

The way it’s meant to be.

“Quit starin’, get me fixed up so we can smoke this,” Lip grumbles, gesturing towards the rolling tray in his lap. You laugh at that, heart quickening in your chest. Tensions between the two of you had been thick as of late, but underneath it all things remained the same.

“Glad to know you’ve got your priorities straight,” you snort, cleaning up the second wound with peroxide. He takes it better this time, more prepared for the sting, but you still catch the way a few pained tears brim in his bright eyes. 

Soft, parted lips rest under your fingers as you clean the final abrasion. The bruising is the worst here, deep purple hues present across his mouth and down to his chin. He finishes rolling as you’re wiping at the blood that pooled below his lip, a deep red trail spilling down his chin. Your delicate motions are interrupted by Lip bringing the joint up to seal it, licking along the edge of the rolling paper. 

“‘M almost finished, be patient,” you murmur, focused on keeping the disinfectant out of his mouth. A moment later you pull back, swiping vaseline over the split before wiping the excess on his jeans. Payback for interrupting your tending to his wounds. “There. All patched up. Say ‘thank you nurse,’” you tease with a grin.

He’s already flicking the lighter on, holding the flame against the end of the joint to take the first hit for himself. You busy yourself with cleaning up the first aid supplies until he passes it off to you. Thick, earthy smelling smoke flows from his parted mouth, which lifts into a mischievous grin as he hands you the joint. “My lip’s busted up pretty fuckin’ bad. Think y’could kiss it better?”

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at his blunt proposal. “Shut up,” you retort with a sharp laugh, before you can even consider it.

Lip throws on an exaggerated frown, “oh, c’mon MK. You know it’d be so fucking hot- ow!” He flinches, chest shaking with laughter as you throw your remote at him. “Okay! Okay, I know I know. You’re not one of my g-”

“Little ghetto girlfriends,” you tease, repeating the drunken dig an alibi patron had once thrown at Lip. 

“Exactly.”

You shake your head, laughing at him for a moment. “You’re never getting in my pants Gallagher. I’ve known you since we were three. It’s wrong,” you lie. Lip is your best friend, the same role he’s filled your entire life, side by side since the two of you were in diapers. But your rejection stems from something deeper than that.

Lip Gallagher is inconsistent. You can’t exactly call him unfaithful if he never truly commits to one girl, but he’s not one for relationships. He’s flighty. He runs from affection. More often than not he buries his true feelings under snark and insults, weed, booze, and–when all else fails–aggression. That doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, it doesn’t mean you had no feelings for him, it just gives you reason to brush off his advances. For now, it can remain a little game between the two of you.

Months ago, when these unwanted feelings began to blossom in your chest, you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t be just another girl he messed around with. You aren’t willing to let him mess this thing up for the both of you.

Eager to change the subject you move to your desk, pulling out an informational packet from MIT. Before you can get a word out Lip is shaking his head, casting a skeptical glare in your direction. “Hey, come on. I just want you to apply.” You lean to hand the packet over but he reaches for the joint instead, which you pull away quickly.

“No you come on, why would I apply to MIT, seriously,” he shoots back, refusing to take the folder from your hand. He settles more comfortably in your bed, laying back against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting your eyes. “Bunch ‘f ivy league reject pricks ridin’ on daddy’s money. You’re lucky I’m even applying to schools in town.” Greedy hands reach forward for the joint again and you yield with a sigh, passing it over. As an afterthought, you toss the packet to him as well.

“Just consider it, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it,” he says. You don’t need anything but the way he avoids your eyes to know it’s a lie. 

You purse your lips, throwing an icy stare his way. Lip Gallagher may be your best friend, but you’re not going to take any of his shit. “Have you even got any applications in?”

The question seems to take him by surprise, tendrils of smoke curling from the corner of his parted lips. “I’ve got a few,” another lie.

“Really? What schools,” you question, head tilted to the side with a knowing look. “Don’t lie to me, I know you better than anyone. I can tell.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine, you got me. I haven’t applied anywhere yet.” The end of the joint has a good stretch of ash, which he’s trying to keep precariously attached while he takes another hit. 

“Scoot,” you mumble, grabbing your own binder of college information packets. He stretches one arm back towards your desk to snag your heart shaped ashtray and knocks the ash off, then lays the tray in the space between your bodies. You settle in beside him, your knees propped comfortably over the throw pillow that always ended up in the middle of your bed. One hand takes the joint and the other opens your binder. 

Pages upon pages of information, campus maps, scholarship pamphlets, and your hand written tuition calculations make Lip go a little cross eyed as you flip towards a page with a yellow tab. “Okay. Here, look,” you point at the information you’d circled, reading Engineering B.S., training the Innovators of Tomorrow. “UI Urbana-Champaign. Great engineering program–” you flip the page over “–and scholarships for kids from underserved communities.”

You settle the joint between your lips, flipping through a few more pages. After a deep inhale you use it to gesture towards the page. “Or UChicago, that way you’d be close to home. They’ve got this thing called inner city promise. Smart kids, like you, from certain high schools with certain academic records and test scores can get full rides.” You run a finger down the short list, stopping at a familiar name and tapping it. “See? Lincoln Grove High School. You’d qualify, Lip.”

“‘M not some fuckin’ charity case,” he grumbles, snatching the burnt-down joint from your hand. “You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Oh I’m a pain?” you snap, turning on your side to glare at him. “For what, believing in you? For not taking any of your self-deprecating, avoidant bullshit?”

He shrugs then, and the action is almost shy. He’s embarrassed. You have this innate ability to see him, the way no one else does. You scare yourself with it sometimes. “Just don’t know why you care so much,” he mumbles.

The sigh that leaves you is a deep, tired one. Convincing him of these things has always been difficult. For as smart as he is, Lip can be so infuriatingly stupid. “You’re smart, Lip. You’ve always been smart. I dunno what I would do if I went off to college and you stayed here. In this shithole.”

He doesn’t laugh the way you expect him to. He doesn’t brush it off. He just stares.

“We made a pact, did you forget?” you continue. He shakes his head silently, the far off look in his eyes letting you know he’s remembering that day. 

The day the two of you spent drinking by the pool. Making promises to each other. You’d said you would make it out, and you would do it together. You’d made Lip promise you that he’d give it a try, and stupidly you believed him. Or was it stupid? You’re not ready to give up yet. 

“I don’t want to do it without you,” you admit to him.

Lip looks at you, his blue eyes softening. “Do what without me?” You shake your head, scooting closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He stubs out the joint and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Friendly, comfortable affection. The kind you were used to. “C’mon MK, spit it out.”

“Any of it,” you return. “Don’t think I could get through another four years of school if you’re not doing it with me.”

“Yeah? What if we’re at different schools, dumbass,” he retorts, but his palm soothes across your arm, a contrast to his words. “You gonna follow me to MIT, since y’want me to go so bad?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, turning to look up at him with a grin playing at your lips. He got what he wanted. He made you laugh. “I’ll call you every night.”

“Every night huh?” he says with a smirk. “Cockblocking me from a thousand miles away is just like you, isn’t it.”

You shove him playfully, sitting up to move the ashtray off your bed. The MIT packet lays somewhere at the foot of the bed and you search through the pillows to find it. Instead of handing it to Lip, you just tuck it into his backpack, handing the bag to him after. “Well yeah, can’t have you getting distracted by the chess team girls,” you joke back. 

He lays there in your bed, looking up at you with that stupid grin of his. All bared teeth and mischief, the same one you’d seen all those years ago. You stay silent for a moment longer before you stand, holding out a hand to pull him up. 

“You sure we can’t just skip?”

“No, ‘ve got a test, remember? Gotta keep my grades up if ‘m gonna follow you all the way to MIT,” you say, and shakes his head with a laugh. Maybe he’s coming around to the idea. “Come on, I’ll drive us.”

thanks so much for reading!! series masterlist here.

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[vanishingstarrs]

midnight dreams ( k. bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff ) ( not too sure how i feel abt this yet... thinking one more part to this ?? also funnily enough,, only post these after midnight )

part 1, part 2, part 3

It was late. Again.

You’d actually managed to fall asleep pretty early that afternoon, but woke up shortly from a nightmare. One where your class failed at bringing Midoriya home and things went awry quickly after that, the guilt from your dream not being so far from reality plagued your conscious now as you sat in the living room by yourself. You had considered passing by Bakugo’s room since last time he'd extended the surprising offer to just... be there.

Despite this, you didn't have it in your heart to actually take him up on it. You'd made it as far as his door before marching yourself back the other way.

You sighed as you read the same page of your book for the third time without actually taking it in.

Bakugo still occupied your thoughts.

The morning after you two had spoke you had awoken to find all your dishes already clean for you. When you asked your friends which one of them you had to thank for the favor, they all looked at you with raised eyebrows and confused frowns, they’d believed you’d cleaned up after yourself. You thought long and hard about whether you did and maybe you’d just been hallucinating, but you remembered vividly writing a second note in regards to doing them later when you woke up. Momo had said she’d been the first one up and saw no such note, just the one to help themselves to freshly baked cookies.

And so that only left your sort of late night partner in crime…

Surely Bakugo hadn’t came back to the kitchen after walking you to your room to clean? Or wake up extra early to? You racked your brain for answers, but couldn’t think of a logical explanation for why he’d do any of that for you.

You felt a frown take over your face as these things resurfaced on your mind.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, turning around to find Bakugo standing there staring at you as if you’d grown two heads.

“What?”

“Kirishima said you went to bed hours ago.” He stated,“Why aren’t you asleep.”

It didn’t even sound like a question the way he spoke to you. You stared at him now as you thought about it, and it was true, you had seen Kirishima last. You had noticed him making sure all the doors were locked and bid him a good night before going your separate ways. Your attempt at rest hadn't lasted very long.

You patted the space next to you as invitation just in case he wanted to sit down next to you, you gave him a shrug as he actually came around to your side of the sofa,“Slept. Didn’t take. How are your injuries?”

You hadn’t been brave enough to ask last time, and you couldn’t help notice he was still wearing bandages even now.

Bakugo placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward,“They’re fine. Getting better. It’s mainly just the arm now, I gotta change the bandages every now and then. I woke up ‘cause I forgot to before I fell asleep and now Kirishima’s snoring loud as fuck, couldn’t wake him.”

“I can help.” You offered before you could change your mind. Your mouth had a knack for getting you into things like this, you’d just blurt things out and before it was too late…

He looked back at you,“Nah, it’s okay.”

“No, really, I can help.” You stood up, adamant as you grabbed his good arm and pulled him up with all your might,“C’mon, I’m pretty good actually, my father had a healing quirk.”

“Had?” Bakugo asked.

You didn’t turn around as you led him into the main bathroom where you knew there was a first aid kit, all you did was shrug.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You sighed, you didn’t really want to get into that. You flicked on the lights and pointed to the toilet,“Sit.”

He listened surprisingly and you dug around the cabinets for only a few seconds, successfully finding all that you needed and turning around to face your patient when you realized something. His injuries… they spanned well into his shoulder and they'd be hard to get to, unless...

You swallowed nervously,“Shirt off.”

Bakugo’s eyebrows flew up.

“Not like that.” You blushed,“Just need it off so I can get your bandages off. It’s on your shoulder, isn’t it?”

“And my stomach.” He revealed at the same time as he removed his shirt, exposing his chest,“Got stabbed a couple times.”

A couple times?!

Dear god, help me... was all you could think.

At first, you couldn’t help stare for all the wrong reasons, at him, at the hard work he’d put into his body. He was strong, that much was obvious. But he’d also been injured terribly. Your lips turned downward, no longer distracted by his abs and instead focused on removing the old bandages,“You’re brave, but it was stupid when you did that, no offense.”

“We’re heroes, aren’t we?” He asked.

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing.” He faced the other way, like he was avoiding your gaze,“It’s what we signed up for, they needed our help, besides... my body moved before I could think.”

“We’re students actually.” You corrected,“Don’t you think it’s too heavy a burden for a bunch of dumb kids? And what about Midoriya? He’s still out there.”

“We’re not dumb. He is.” He rolled his eyes,“Thinks we’re better off, safer without him. He doesn’t know. But I’ve been talking to the others, we might have a plan.”

“Dangerous?”

“What do you think?” He asked.

Your eyes landed on the scar tissue on his shoulder, it wasn’t pretty. They’d done a good job getting him on the path to healing, nevertheless he still had a ways to go. If Bakugo could blindly take all this for someone he claimed to hate, what was stopping you from reaching the same level of bravery?

You'd been thinking about this a lot lately, you couldn't help feel they were asking too much of you guys sometimes. Then you felt guilty for thinking that. When you started at U.A. you'd made a vow to train like heroes, to learn from them. This was what your future would look like, why was it so hard? You thought back to your mentors and how they were always there to encourage you and your classmates, how they never hesitated to protect everyone against the several attacks you'd faced.

You worked in silence for a second, seeing him wince out of the corner of your eye as you cleaned up the area a bit.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

“Count me in.” You said decidedly as you reached for gauze and tape,"Also you might wanna start letting these breathe, they're looking a lot better and I think that would help."

He looked up, shocked,“What?”

“Your cuts—"

"Not that, dumbass."

"Oh." You shrugged,"You know, whatever you and the others are planning. Include me, I wanna help."

He looked hesitant,"You sure?”

“Mhm.” You adjusted your glasses before pointing at his stomach,“Want me to check that one?”

He hesitated before sitting up straighter and nodding.

You quickly, but carefully removed the tape and peeled away the gauze. This one might’ve been worse, but you didn’t say a word as you prepared a few cotton rolls to clean around it as best as you could. You were sure both of you were holding your breath as you did so, and he inhaled sharply when you pressed a little too hard.

“Sorry.”

“Quit it, you're doing me a favor." He leaned back a little to give you better access,"You sure you're up for helping?"

You sighed,"I'm sure." Your fingers hovered over the injury, and you looked up just in time to find him already looking at you. “Kinda makes you seem like you don’t hate Midoriya, after all.”

He scoffed and you grinned.

“Bakugo—”

“Katsuki.” He cut you off, gesturing to his exposed chest,“You may as well call me by my first name at this point.”

“Okay…” you inhaled deeply, before saying,"Katsuki…”

You were sure he was expecting something serious as you finished covering up his injury, but you wanted to lighten the mood.

“Wanna watch some tv with me?” You smiled big,“There’s a new show I’ve been meaning to start.”

He eyed you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, it was hard for you to read him. It was making your head spin, and you quickly stopped trying.

He put his shirt back on and started helping you put everything away, he didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, and so you led the way back to the living room and sat back where you’d been before and then... he left the room.

You sighed, guess not. You reached for the remote anyway and glanced back again just in case he’d been messing with you, then again... he wasn’t the kind of guy that made jokes. At least, you didn’t think he was.

You turned on the tv and put it at a low volume, going through the provided streaming services in order to find the one you needed. You were just about to click start when he spoke.

“Weren’t gonna wait for me, brat?”

A blanket was tossed onto your head and you quickly removed it, surprise written on your face as Bakugo came around the same end and sat next to you. You stared at the blanket and then looked back at him.

“You get cold easily.”

You nodded, dumbfounded, it was true, but how did he know that? You were cold all the time, actually, it was a side effect of your quirk.

You placed the blanket over your lower half and pressed play, a part of you fixating not only on the fact that he’d noticed enough about you to bring you a blanket, but also that it was his blanket. For the first five minutes of the show, you couldn’t focus, you were surrounded by his smell. It was so strong with him next to you and his blanket on your lap. He smelled amazing.

Eventually, you relaxed. Both of you did.

Bakugo had initially scoffed at the choice of show, but didn't demand you change it and you took it as a good sign.

“These characters are fucking stupid.” He scowled and you giggled, you were wondering when he’d break the silence to make a comment. It surprisingly took more than one episode.

“He’s in love with her, Katsuki.” You didn’t notice how easily his first name slipped past your tongue as soon as that barrier had first broken, you went on to explain further,“People do lots of stupid things when they’re in love.”

He rolled his eyes,“The guy still sucks.”

You shrugged, but didn't disagree.

"No baking tonight?" He asked, out of the blue.

You shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. Those cookies were gone before I even got to 'em, did you manage to snag one?"

"One." He said,"Or two."

You lit up,"Really? You liked them that much?"

He shrugged.

"Any requests for next time?"

Somehow, you’d gotten closer and you could feel his warmth just from the touch of his thigh. You couldn't cover up your shiver, hoping he took it as you still being cold.

He seemed to think about it,"Like muffins, I guess."

"Chocolate chip? Banana? Strawberry...?" You gave a few options, you wanted to make sure you knew exactly what he liked. He was doing you a favor as much as you'd done him one considering he was always the first one to head to bed. His company was… nice. You may as well bake him something as thanks after tonight.

"Apple cinnamon. And I like that shit they put on top—"

"The crumble?" You laughed at how he explained it.

"Yeah." He leaned back against the sofa. Neither of you had been watching the show anymore and the tv seemed to know since the screen had gone black and the words "Still watching?" took over. You didn't care to click yes or no, knowing it'd shut down on it's own.

"I'll make some especially for you." You said around a yawn.

He stood up,"C’mon, I’ll walk you.”

You couldn’t help it; you pouted. You really wanted to keep talking to him, you found that he was actually a good listener and when he did speak, his voice was soothing. Different from how you'd known him before, you didn't know what it was that had changed.

He rolled his eyes,“That shit's not gonna work on me, come on. You gotta sleep. And I’m tired.”

Bakugo extended his hand to you and you took it as a sign to return his blanket to him, he scoffed and moved it into his other hand before placing the same hand out to you again.

You didn't need help standing, but you took it and he helped you up before placing the blanket around your shoulders. Okay...

You started walking and thought you might've felt his hand at your back.

"I'll leave my door open again." He said, unprompted.

There was that offer again. Your heart felt full.

"Mine will be too." You smiled up at him just as you reached your room,"Night... Katsuki."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

[greynatomy]

vogue

kyra cooney-cross x reader

been in a bit of a writing slump and haven’t written anything until last night when i couldn’t sleep

something a bit different

———

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the sunlight that’s peaking through the curtains. Grabbing your phone, seeing as it’s seven in the morning. Rubbing a hand across your face, you sit up with your back leaning against the headboard, you start to record yourself on a camera you were given.

“Hey, guys.” You whisper. “It’s currently seven o’clock and i just woke up. Vogue had asked me to show you all my morning routine. So let’s get started.”

The video cuts to you standing in your bathroom.

“Okay. As you can see, I am now in my bathroom. I gotta still talk quietly though, so hopefully you can hear me.” You grab some things and lay them out in front of you. “So, today is a pretty chill day. I’ve just finished up my tour and I am back to living that domestic life. Since I don’t have any interviews and all that jazz, I’ll just be washing my face with this CeraVe face wash.”

A song plays as you put a headband on to keep your hair off and you wash your face, making sure it suds up nicely.

“Gotta make sure you get every crevice and have it nice and bubbly. I’ve seen other videos of people washing their face, but they’re not? Like I don’t even think they used any soap.” You laugh, rinsing your face with water and wiping it with a towel.

“Okay. Now, I’ve got this moisturizer. Also CeraVe. Love this brand, not sponsored by the way. Once that sets in my skin for a bit, I use this sunscreen that I got from Trader Joe’s. It’s my favorite because it doesn’t leave your face feeling oily.”

As you’re putting your sunscreen on, you fail to notice the door of the bathroom open.

“Darling.”

Turning around, you see your girlfriend slowly shuffling her feet towards you.

“Hey, babe. Finally up are you?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m filming that thing for Vogue. Wanna introduce yourself?”

Kyra pulls out the stool she kept in the bathroom, grabbing your waist to sit you on her lap.

“Oh, yeah.” Kyra is now more awake, now aware of the camera in front of her. “Hello, Vogue. My name is Kyra Cooney-Cross.”

“This is my girlfriend and now it’s her turn to wash her face.” Kyra washes her face as you talk to the camera, getting off her lap for a little while. “She uses the same products I use because she said ‘I know best’ and she didn’t know which to buy.”

Kyra sits back down on the chair so you sit back down on her lap, a routine that the viewers could tell that’s been going on for a while with how fluid the actions were.

“And now she’s going to put whatever products she chooses on my face.”

“Very needy this one is. I usually sit on her lap a different way, but let’s keep it pg.” You put the same products you put on you on her face.”

The video cuts to you in the kitchen.

“Now, it’s time to make breakfast. Kyra isn’t allowed anywhere near the stove because of an incident that happened a while ago.”

“At least I didn’t burn the house down.” Kyra walks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and hold you close. She was now dressed in her training kit.

“But I will be making some avocado toast with an egg for the both of us. This is all we’ve been wanting to eat for breakfast lately so I’m making it again.”

A time lapse shows you and Kyra eating with music playing.

Now back in the bedroom, with clothes all over the bed can be seen.

“Okay. Today Kyra has an open practice meaning that fans are allowed to be there while they practice. I’ve chosen to wear something comfortable so I went with some joggers and one of her jerseys. I was gonna go with a ‘Russo’ jersey but she threw a fit.”

“I did not!” The faint sound of Kyra’s voice was heard.

“She did.” You cup a hand around your mouth, whispering to the camera. “And this bucket hat to hopefully keep me incognito.” You take a step back to show your whole outfit.

The video cuts to you in the backseat of a car.

“We are now on our way to training. I will not be training but they are.” You flip the camera towards your girlfriend, Katie, and Caitlin. “Kyra doesn’t have her license and I refuse to drive on the other side of the road so we’re carpooling! Yay! Guys say ‘hi’ to the people.”

“Hi, people.” “Hey, guys.”

“Katie is the one driving us and Caitlin is the other one.”

“Wow! I’m just the other one?” Caitlin places a hand over her chest, feigned hurt by your words.

“Yup. And that’s really all for my morning routine. I’ll be doing some work on my laptop that I’m bringing and watching all these athletic people workout and make me feel bad about myself. So, yeah. Thanks for coming along this morning. Say ‘bye’ guys.”

“Bye!”

[looooochie]

𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘆 | lamine yamal

summary: lamine toys around with his girlfriend.

TODAY, WAS YOUR sister's 19th birthday. And as she should, and of course, she invited you to it.

your outfit:

You were doing your makeup, as your partner was preparing to go to practice. He looked at you, and smiled.

Lamine admired your pale blue dress, and the all the accessories such as the butterfly hair clip in it.

As you already know, the Moroccan is a bit mischievous. And you felt a pair of eyes staring at you, and next thing, you slightly jump and the lipstick got misplaced on your face. All Lamine did was smirk as you gently tap his cheek.

"Lamine... now I have to do my makeup all over again.." you say in a tsundere-ish tone. "So what? Aren't I allowed to jumpscare you a little?" he replies slyly.

"No.. Now dont you have training to get to?" you ask. His smile faded almost immediately.

"Shit.. I gotta go!" he says giving you a kiss, and his spit went into that kiss. He wipes it off which smudges your makeup even more. He did it on purpose.

"See you at the party later!" Lamine says, before getting out the door.

Wait what? What did he mean by 'See you at the party later' ? You didn't think much of it, before getting your makeup kit and repairing the smudged parts.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧˚.༘⋆

After getting out the car, you look at your sister's house, it. Was. Lit. You could even see some people standing outside the house, that's how lit it really was.

You walking in through the front door to see tons of people in there. A lot of ballons, the music was blasting, and vice versa. Then you go to the backyard and yeah, pretty much the same, but with some people in the pool.

Excited, you search around your sister, and you find her, she looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a tiara, a black dress along with some jewelry and black gloves to finish it off. You go up to her and she sees you.

(I'm just going to use Sira as an example of your sister's name)

Sira runs up to you, enveloping you in a warn, loving hug. "Hey, I'm glad you made hermana!" she says, very happy to see you.

I mean, Sira went out of Barcelona to fulfill her acting dreams and hadn't seen you in about 3 years. So she was. ECSTATIC.

"So, how has acting been for you?" you ask smiling. "Its been good. I'm just excited you're here." Sira replies. She moves her head a bit and sees your partner going in.

"Hey Y/N.. What's your boyfriend here for?" she asks. You turn around and your eyes widen. Lamine comes in and starts talking with the boys there.

"Uhh Sira.. I'm just going to Lamine. Is that okay?" you ask, a bit stressed. "Sure. I don't mind!" Sira replies. You slowly run towards Lamine and luckily, you didn't trip because of your Converses.

When you get to Lamine, you rapidly tap his shoulder. And he turns around. "Amor.. What the fuck are you doing here??"

"Oh, we got off training early and your sister's boyfriend,also known as my teammate, let me come." he smiles and slightly shifts so you could see him.

"Hey, what's good Y/N?" he begins. You smile and look at him closely, then you realize that it was Alejandro Balde, Barça's left back. "Hey, you're Alejandro Balde right?" you question.

"Yep, that's me. And by the way, I'm your sister's boyfriend." Alejandro smiles. "Thats cool dude. How long have you and Sira been dating?"

"Oh, it's been about two weeks. We met on Instagram and we liked eachother ever since." Alejandro replies. Next thing you knew, you found yourself having a conversation between Lamine and Alejandro, your new friend.

Ale looks around and sees the people gathering around. "Oh guys, we're about to go sing happy birthday now." Alejandro says, as he gets up from the sofa and goes in the garden. You and Lamine join him and walk towards the garden, hand in hand.

(I'm lazy asf so skip)

You look at the cake you were eating and you were stewing a little. It did feel a little stuffy in there so you wanted to take a breather. You go outside and sit on the porch, looking at the night sky.

The door opens and Lamine goes outside aswell and sits next to you. "Why did you just walk out like that?" Lamine asks.

"It was a little hard to breathe in there, and it was really chaotic." you reply. In return, Lamine pulls you close and puts an arm around you.

"I get you. It kinda was crowded." "Thanks." you say, and give him a kiss on the cheek. This moment was the best, just you, Lamine, and the, dark, night sky.

"Hey, remember when we got our first tattoos?" you ask, breaking the silence. "Yeah, that was actually pretty cool. I used to think if you get a tattoo, you're putting scribble scrabble on yourself." Lamine laughs.

You look down and your arm, and the ink it has. It was Lamine's debut date for Barcelona, you practically had to get that on you. Meanwhile his tattoo is of your name and birthday, so he had two.

"The tattoo thing was a really good idea Y/N." "I know." you responded as you, shift closer to Lamine and just, be there. For him.

[lov3rachan]

OT8’s s/o feeling their muscles

Summary: OT8 get their muscles felt by their s/o

Warnings: suggestive (not really)

With the same concept: nothing

Genre: Fluff, humour, suggestive, gender neutral (you/your)

Comment: Sorry it took so long! With the Christmas holidays around the corner it’s been hard to find the time to write! Hope you like it!

Requested by: anon

Written: 17.12.2024-21.12.2024

Bang Christopher Chan

- Absolutely flustered. He is going to try to cover himself up and he will shy away from your touch, with a wide and embarrassed smile, before hiding his face either with his hands or whatever is within his reach. He’s red from head to top. He will gush and deflect your compliments. If you really want to and ask him prettily he will give in but he won’t be able to look in your direction for a while.

“Ah, it’s really not all that much, dear”

Lee “Know” Minho

- cocky bastard pt.1. He’ll be smirking and acting all smug though his ears will be incredibly red. If you feel his muscles for a while he’ll start getting embarrassed and unleash his embarrassed laugh/smile. After a while he’ll tell you off and go do something else. For some mysterious (“totally unrelated”) reason he’ll then be a bit more mindful of his figure and working on it a bit more.

“It’s all yours, kit. Loving what you’re touching, huh?”

Seo Changbin

- super proud. It’s no secret that he works incredibly hard on his body so hearing you appreciate it (and having you feel it) will have him beaming with joy. He’ll flex and pose and boast about it, loudly so. He will be blushing and he will only push himself even more, just to get you to feel his muscles. He’s probably the one who’ll invite you to do it more often than not, once you feel them once.

“You gotta check the results, you know babe!?”

Hwang Hyunjin

- He will blush and act all coy while secretly (or not so much) relishing in your attention. He knows he has a good physique and having you flatter him like that makes him incredibly happy. Hyunjin will even, sometimes, playfully tease you with his muscles with a smirk.

“Wanna cop another feel, love?”

Han Jisung

- His reaction can either be him turning into a blushing and stuttering mess or acting all cocky. In the latter, Jisung will wiggle his eyebrows with a smirk, flexing. Though he will get as red as he can be, he will nevertheless joke around and tease you. Afterwards, he’ll brag about it to anyone willing (or not) to listen. Might tease you with a fake muscle reveal in the future just to see you pout and then show you his physique for real.

“I’m just that irresistible baby, aren’t it?”

Lee Felix Yongbok

- Felix will shyly smile, acting all coy but letting your hands do whatever they want. He won’t ask you to do it again but he might wear more tank tops than usual. He just gets super giddy whenever you feel his muscles: it gives him butterflies.

“Aw, thanks honey. It’s… nice”

Kim Seungmin

- Cocky bastard pt.2. He’ll bash you for it, calling you a simp and mocking you. He’ll flex his muscles and deny it when you call him out. He isn’t one to hit the gym for fun nor a lot so he really likes it when you show this kind of appreciation for his physique.

“Simp. Stop drooling over my muscles, you look like a creep”

Yang “I.N” Jeongin

- He’ll simply get incredibly red and try to hide it, though you can clearly see a wide smile on his face. He secretly loves these compliments because he worked hard on his body but hearing them out loud makes him super embarrassed. He might expose more skin, standing to the side and occasionally flexing, to try and catch your attention again, fishing for your appreciation.

“Ah, stop! So embarrassing!”

[ki-kink]

I got a strange package in the mail today. It was a purple tracksuit kit and a pair of white tube socks. I would never wear something like that so i thought i got someone else's package but my name was written on the box.... I have a weird urge to put it on......

Dude, did you totally miss that invite in the rad purple envelope chillin' in the box? It's the premiere of a sick new action flick. "Rock that violet swag, bro" is added in handwriting. You've got zero plans that night. So, why not, right?

You're kinda hanging back. People are struttin' down the red carpet in a freakin' flash of lights. You're feelin' a bit out of your element. That's when you spot the dude who's just as clueless as you are. Rocking a purple tracksuit. You go up to him and strike up a convo. Turns out, he got the same package too. You both feel kinda silly. But you muster up some courage and hit that red carpet together!

Oh my friggin' God, it feels so freakin' awesome in the spotlight, like YAS queen! You're gettin' more and more confident. "Dude, unzip those dang zippers!" You don't gotta tell me twice, bro. You and your homie are damn proud of those hard-earned muscles. And your tats cost a freakin' ton of cash. It'd be criminal to hide 'em. Owen is a friggin' poser. He's makin' his pecs dance and flexin' those rock-hard abs. Well, you ain't gotta tell me twice, gonna follow his lead, BAM!

Oh my god, like, seriously, this pre-fight showdown is, like, totally part of the gig. Owen and you, you guys are, like, total pros. Flexing those muscles, spitting out aggressive one-liners, hurling insults like there's no tomorrow. Who cares if you end up screwing each other later or sucking each other off. Before the fight, you gotta put on a freakin' show. Two ultimate jerk-off fantasies, oozing testosterone from every pore. And you're the freakin' stars of the fight cage. People want a show? Well, people are gonna get a show, baby!

Yo, Owen and you have been straight hustlin' since y'all were four years old. Y'all met in the orphanage, ain't nobody handed you nothin' in life. But whatever you needed, you took it. Sometimes legit through grindin' hard. Sometimes, not so much, who even cares? Today, y'all are the ultimate icons of the Mixed Martial Arts scene. And purple is your signature swag.

[greg-gold01]

Signed in Gold

It took some courage and working up to it, but you finally decided to try your best and join a gym to get into shape. You looked online and found a listing for a new gym near you called 'Gold and Gainz Gym'.

"Join us in Gold and be the best you you can be!"

You read their motto aloud and sighed. You'd always wanted to try and better yourself, you could just never stick to it; always doubting, always worrying about other people or failing, never making any progress. Maybe this time will be different? You decided to check them out tomorrow, couldn't hurt to just see the place right?

Walking in the next day, you instinctively squint your eyes. There's gold everywhere, so much that it hurts your eyes. You walk up to the front desk and wait for a receptionist, looking around at all the guys here. They're all dressed in the exact same gold kit, all handsome, all muscular, all laughing and enjoying each other's company. You get so lost in watching them you don't notice one walking up to you.

"How can I help ya bruh?"

You jump back a bit startled, looking up at the gold adonis in front of you. Mouth going a bit dry you finally tell him

"I uh, was wondering if I could maybe, join the gym?"

You meekly ask, eyes a bit downcast. In contrast, the man's eyes lit up.

"Hell yeah bro! We're always lookin for new members. Take an application and follow to the office, we'll get ya sorted."

Taking a seat across from him in the office, he hands you an application and a golden pen.

"Gotta sign everything in gold bro, only way for it to work"

Puzzled as to why the pen would matter that much, you start reading through the application. Some basic info about yourself, couple of checkboxes, nothing crazy, until you get to the questions at the end.

Do you swear to be the best you you can be?

Do you swear to always support your Golden Bros?

Do you swear to always wear the Gold Kit with pride?

Do you swear to be a Golden Bro in mind, body, and soul?

You stare at the questions a bit incredulous before figuring it's probably just some kind of motivational thing, writing 'Yes' in response to the first question. As you finished, you feel a sudden jolt of pleasure shoot through your body. Shaking it off, you go back to the paper, not noticing that your hands seem a bit bigger and tanner now, the bro across from you watching with a knowing smile.

'Yes' to the second question. Another jolt of pleasure strong enough to almost make you drop the pen, traveling to your head and making it feel a bit fuzzy. You never really had friends, but you keep seeing images of you supporting, working out and hanging with other guys all wearing gold jerseys. As you struggle to reconcile the conflicting memories, your body begins to shift. You gain a few inches of height, a golden tan seeps across your skin, hair styling itself into an immaculate shape while stubble begins poking through your once bare skin. Blinking a few times, you still don't notice as your thoughts finally settle. Of course you've got memories of supporting your bros, why wouldn't you? Any good bro would support them, and you're a good bro aren't you?

'Yes' to the third question, and yet another jolt of pleasure. You lean back in your chair, eyes closed and mouth open as the pleasure keeps you oblivious to your changing clothes. An ill fitting t-shirt becomes a perfectly fit golden jersey, made of the most unbelievably perfect material you've ever felt. Jeans become a pair of golden workout shorts, showing off your growing bulge to go alongside them. And what workout kit is complete without some gold Nikes to go with it? Not yours for sure, as your sneakers change into a pair that wraps around your feet so nice it's like they were made just for you.

"Feels good doesn't it bro?"

The bro across from you asked still smiling. You couldn't help but agree, the kit felt so good on you you couldn't imagine taking it off, of a time when you weren't wearing it. You've always worn it right? Course you have, what golden bro wouldn't always wear their kit?

You make it to the fourth and final question, pausing for a moment. Some part of you is still fighting, still questioning what's going on. What will happen if I say yes to this? Almost sensing your hesitation, your bro gets up and moves behind you. He starts rubbing your shoulders, whispering in your ear

"Just let go bro. It feels so good to let go. To let Cap think for you. To let Gold take you over. All you need is Gold and Bros, Gold and Bros, Gold and Bros..."

As he keeps repeating it in your ear, you start to smile and say it along with him, closing your eyes in bliss as your hand automatically moves to write 'Yes' for the last time. A pleasure shoots through you so strong you almost fall out of your chair. Your body goes into overdrive, biceps inflating, ass growing, thighs thickening as every rational thought is blasted from your mind. Every thought, every memory, everything before you walked in the gym is wiped out by the Gold wave overcoming you. Your mind a flurry of the same few words over and over:

GoldCapGymBrosTeamUnityBuffDumbGoldWorkoutBrosCapGoldUnityBuffGoldTeamGoldGoldGoldGoldGoldGoldGoldGold....

Your mind, body and soul succumb completely to the Gold, becoming the perfect new bro for the Gold Team as you finally open your eyes again

"How ya feelin bro?" your new bro asks you

"Bro, feels like I just made the best choice of mah life! I feel like...like Gold!"

He laughs in response as he throws his arm around you, leading you back to the gym.

"I knew you'd love it brah. They always do after they sign in gold. Let's get ya hooked up with Cap and the rest of the bros before you start your workout eh? They're gonna love ya, trust!"

You walk arm in arm with your new bro into your new life as a Gold Team bro. Ready to be the best you you could ever be, ready to give everything for your cap and your bros. Ready to be Golden, and happy, forever.

[lady0ctavia]

What They'd Do for a First Date (2p!Axis, 2p!Allies, & 2p!Nordics)

Here are my headcanons on where I think a large chunk of the 2p!Hetalia boys would do for a first date.

2p!Italy: I can see Luciano wanting to do something fancy to impress you. Probably a tour all around the city of Milan, ending with a gondola ride throughout the city, the two of you nestled in the boat, cuddled up together.

2p!Germany: Probably a bar or clubbing. He'd want to do a bunch of shots and then go dancing, partying the night away before taking you back home to his place. Or yours. Whoever has the most sturdy bed out of you two.

2p!Japan: I cannot see him wanting to do anything huge or fancy for a first date, so I feel like Kuro would be content with taking a long walk through the woods where the two of you talk about life, future plans, etc.

2p!Romano: Disney movie marathon with a bunch of fun, Disney-themed snacks. That's it. That's all I got. I headcanon Flavio as a hardcore Disney fan.

2p!Prussia: Gillen would like to take you to a Renaissance fair. He'd ask about the two of you wearing corresponding costumes, with him as a knight and you as a princess. But, you know, no pressure. Though there's a chance he's gonna try to buy you a tiara.

2p!America: I can see Allen taking you to a skatepark. He'd take out a skateboard and show you some cool tricks before offering to teach you. He loves teaching you how to skateboard, especially since it allows him to be so physically close to you, often with his arms around you in some way or another.

2p!England: Alright, a first date with Oliver would end up being one of two things. Either you guys are gonna be making cupcakes together at his place, or you're gonna binge-watch the Great British Baking show. Or both?

2p!France: François is such a homebody. So the first date you two would have would likely be somewhere very quiet, unpopulated, and lowkey. Either a bookstore or just hanging out at his place watching a movie together and making stupid, nonsensical commentary along the way.

2p!Russia: Curiously enough, a museum. I can see Viktor as a very intelligent person, and as such, he'd like to take you to a museum about world history. Not to mention he'd potentially correct an exhibit or two along the way.

2p!China: Zao would take you to his martial arts class, eager to show you some moves, and teach you some as well. Though be warned, he can be a little impulsive and may accidentally hurt himself. Better have that first-aid kit on hand.

2p!Canada: James would be down for either a nature walk or hiking, whichever you prefer. Just understand that if you were to choose hiking, you'd definitely be scoring some points with him here. As you go along he'd point out different birds and wildlife, dropping some pretty interesting trivia along the way.

2p!Denmark: Markell will take you to a bar. He's not one for big, crowded, noisy places. So a quiet bar that people seldom ever come to would be a good choice. He'd like to talk to you face-to-face over a couple of drinks.

2p!Sweden: Ikea. I know it's a joke at this point... But I just... Come on, it's gotta be going around an Ikea together! That or, Bernard will show you his knife collection.

2p!Norway: Loki would like to take you out ice skating, especially if you hardly know how to skate in the first place. He'd like to teach you, mainly because he gets to be very close to you, and while on the ice you'll have to hang onto him.

2p!Finland: Thurston would be literally the same as his 1p! counterpart in this regard. He'll either take you to a heavy metal concert or will take you out sharpshooting. He actually is more into sharpshooting, seeing as he's not the most social of the 2p!'s.

[hypermania]

colin coming out to his team -> isaac making himself the spectacle sparing colin that burden -> roy ‘i give him love’ kent -> rebecca yelling at roy to get out of his own way -> ted bringing rebecca biscuits simply because they make her day better -> and on and on and on.

this isn’t a story about any one person. it’s about a team and the ways they show up for each other and how that makes them all better people at the end of the day. they are all metaphorically using the tape to cover up the dubai air logo because they’ve gotta wear the same kit.

[birchbow]

the motherfucking big leagues

The empress’s blocks are always full up to the gills, and this time’s about the same like it ever motherfucking has been.  Only this time it’s not just full of glittery gold and pink bullshit, it’s got a whole crowd of trolls in fancy soft pile clothes with rolled-up sleeves and shiny pro smiles on. 

“Your Condescension!” says the one who looks the most in charge, and the whole squad pulls up behind him to bow.  “What a pleasure.  We hoped we would see you tonight.”

“Yeah, had some business come up,” Meenah says, and waves grand around at all of you, like it’s clear why you oughta be around and there’s no way a motherfucker could question or guess twice.  “Got some additions to the spa day.  My head clownfish needs to glubbing relax for the first time in his life, and I atoll’d him he could invite a couple of quadrant-corners along.”

Comes to mind you’re going purple, under your fresh new paint.  Comes to mind, when she made mention of a spa day you didn’t put your pan to think what that would mean, or that if anybody’s got the dough to hire up a team of body-easers in soft block-wear and put them to work all up in your business, it’s the motherfucking empress.  And Karkat’s right there.

Might just as well go to one of those sex parties you saw getting rowdy on the Sinner, sit across from your matesprit and watch him fuck someone and let somebody touch you about it.  Fuck.

“Uh,” says Karkat, and glances up at you, and then back down at the motherfuckers in the next room, red all up to the eartips and down to the neck.  Licks his lips, nervous little flash of dark tongue over white fangs.

“What?” says Meenah.

“What the fuck do you mean, what,” Karkat says, all motherfucking types and ways of incredulous, and waves a frond around at the rubbing oils and the soft sweet air and the motherfucking horn-polishing kit, fuck you twice up to the carnival and back.  Holy shit.  “Did I walk into some kind of highblood decadence-play porn set?!  Is this real?!  You actually do this?”

“Shore?” says the empress, like Karkat’s the crazy one.  

“You have a moirail,” says Karkat, all motherfucking scandal.

“Uh-huh,” says Meenah, impatient with him, flicking the pink off her fins about it.  “He can come too, nubsy, c’mon.  He’s school.  Don’t be a glubbin’ square.”

You look to Kurloz; Karkat does too.  He does look like he’s motherfucking cool, and not like he’s having to try hard to be, so that’s…good, you guess.  Only like.  What the fuck.

“Perks,” Kurloz says, like it’s all a motherfucker’s gotta say, and shrugs.  “That’s the motherfucking big leagues, wrigglers.  You get all the feel-good you can swallow, if you wanna send out for it.”

“Except His Hilarity’s no glubbin’ fun,” Meenah says, and throws a frond out ‘round his waist to pull him over.  The motherfuckers in their soft dress-ups can’t see her play grab-ass at him, but you sure the fuck can, and it’s just how you’d draw their eyes that keeps you from making a face about it.  “Never saw a motherglubber so funny be so coddamn boring.”

“Watch it,” Kurloz says, half-growling, and bumps her off his hip—and it’d look like she just kept her grip on him to spite him if you didn’t see how his feet stumbled a second.  “You know how hard I got it to get any kind of motherfucking hires up onto the Dark Carnival without getting a couple picked off for paint on the way up?”

“Charming,” Karkat says, snippy.  “Your Imperious Condescension, how well-vetted are these people?  Gamzee’s got—I mean, I don’t know if they can handle him.  And I’m not going to have all four of us hazed at the same time—”

“Of course, Threshecutioner Vantas,” says the head guy, real sweet and soothing.  “I can assure you, our sylladexes are checked and emptied before we’re admitted, and we all value our positions and our lives enough to be extremely discreet—but we would be honored to have you guard your moirail, while we work on him.” 

You swallow hard enough if you had real seadweller gills you’d be glubbing at him, and he smiles just as nice at you.

[justlookfrightened]

Masquerade

Filling a prompt from from @hufflepunkwannabe: And perhaps Lardo and bitty playing with makeup?

“Lardo?”

Bitty tapped at her door, which was not quite closed, and pushed it further open.

“Do you know when — “

He stopped abruptly.

Lardo was sitting at the desk, an array of makeup tubes and palettes abd brushes laid out on the surface. It was undoubtedly Lardo sitting there facing the mirror, but the reflection looking back at Bitty was somehow not the same. With the slicked back hair, sharper jaw, more prominent brows, it looked like Lardo’s twin brother. Even though Bitty knew Lardo didn’t have a brother, twin or otherwise.

“What was that?” Lardo turned and asked, sounding just the same.

Bitty gathered himself enough to remember why he was looking for Lardo.

“Um, do you know when the bus is leaving for Colgate on Saturday?” he asked. Because Jack had a home game Friday night, and there was a chance Bitty could get to Providence for the game and spend the night, if he could get back in time to be on the bus for the weekend roadie.

“On the bus at 10:15, pulling out at 10:30,” Lardo said. “And we get back from Dartmouth late Sunday night.”

“Yeah, I knew that part,” Bitty said.

“Why?” Lardo asked. “You have plans for Saturday morning?”

“Study group,” Bitty fibbed. Really, if he were really going to study groups all the times he said he was, he should be making the dean’s list this semester. Which he most definitely was not.

“You’re probably not going to make that one,” Lardo said, turning back to the mirror. “No one wants to get up that early on Saturday.”

Except Jack.

“Other athletes,” Bitty said. “We’ll meet early, and I’ll be back in time.”

Which was perfect. He would have an excuse not to be home when the rest of the house got up. 

Bitty watched Lardo squint into the mirror, then take a dark pencil to her brows, making them look even heavier.

“Uh, Lardo?” Bitty asked. “What are you doing?”

“Practicing my makeup,” she said. “I’m doing, like, a drag king look for a photo project someone in my class is doing. What do you think?”

“You look like a guy,” Bitty said. “I mean, like yourself, but also like a guy. How do you do that?”

“The magic of contouring,” Lardo said. “It’s really just using different shades of makeup to change the way people perceive your features. Kinda the same way you use light and shadow to make a two-dimensional painting have depth. A lot of women who wear makeup do it all the time, just not to look like a boy.”

“Huh,” Bitty said. “That’s pretty cool.”

He watched a little longer.

“Do you think you could teach me?”

“Teach you what?” Lardo said. “To use makeup to look more masculine? Because I gotta say, especially with the way that haircut emphasizes your facial structure, you do look like a guy.”

“Really?” Bitty said. “Even though —”

He waved his hand in front of his face, emphasizing the features he always thought of as too delicate. They were nothing like Jack’s, or even Shitty’s.

“I mean,” Lardo said, “You do have big eyes. But your facial bones are more prominent than most women’s. But maybe I could make you up to look like a girl? Or a more manly man, I guess. Either way.”

An idea hatched in Bitty’s brain.

“Could we try both?” he said.

“Why not?” Lardo said. “Sit down.”

First, she recreated her masculine look on Bitty, using makeup a shade or two darker than his skin tone to contour under his jaw, around his forehead, and under his cheekbones. She added lighter makeup to his cheekbones and brow, then found a light brown pencil in her kit to thicken his blond eyebrows.

After a lot of blending and a layer of setting powder, Lardo handed him the mirror. 

“Well?” she said.

“Wow,” Bitty said. “I look like … I don’t even know. A real boy, or man, I guess.”

“Bits,” Lardo said. “You are a real man, makeup or not. But now I get to make you look like a girl.”

“Wait,” Bitty said. “Let me take a picture first.”

Bitty raised his phone to snap a selfie, first alone, and then another with Lardo.

“Okay,” Bitty said. “Do your worst.”

Lardo stepped back.

“We don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said. “I just kind of wanted to practice drag makeup too. And I get to use colors.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bitty said. And it was. Shitty always said boys could wear makeup, anyway. And it might be fun to see what he would look like as a girl.

“Okay then,” Lardo said, opening the door to the bathroom she shared with Chowder. “Wash your face.”

Then Lardo got to work, using the darker contour makeup more sparingly but adding more highlighter. She said she wouldn’t pluck Bitty’s eyebrows, but she used a small comb to brush them upwards. Contouring made his nose look thinner and his jaw more rounded, she explained, and eyeliner and mascara made his already big eyes look even larger. 

“Now comes the fun part,” she said, choosing a palette of eyeshadows in lighter colors, the better to make his browline look higher. Blush and a shiny lip gloss completed the look before she handed Bitty the mirror.

Whereas the masculine makeup had made Bitty look somehow like himself, only moreso, this makeup made him look like a different person entirely. Someone he could dress up as, maybe, but definitely not him.

Still, he thought he was kind of cute. He liked what the mascara and eyeliner did for his eyes. Maybe he could just do that sometimes?

Bitty wondered what Jack would think if he saw him this way. Jack, after all, was attracted to women. Would he prefer Bitty as a woman? Was that a can of worms Bitty wanted to open?

“You want a picture before you wash it off?” Lardo said.

“Sure,” Bitty said. “Why not?”

Because if Jack would prefer Bitty with feminine makeup, maybe that was something he could do sometimes? People dressed up for the partners all the time, didn’t they?

Bitty and Lardo repeated the selfies — one of Bitty on his own and one with Lardo — before Bitty went to clean his face again. 

When he came out of the bathroom, he realized Lardo was still wearing masculine makeup.

“So, you like that?” he said. “Looking like a guy?”

Lardo shrugged.

“A little, yeah,” she said. “Feels a little weird. But maybe sometimes? You didn’t like looking like a girl, though, did you?”

Bitty shook his head.

“Maybe because too many assholes have tried to insult me by calling me a girl,” he said. “Even though being a girl is not a bad thing. To be clear.”

“I gotchu,” Lardo said. “No worries.”

When he got back to his room, Bitty sent both selfies to Jack.

Lardo and me were playing around with makeup. What do you think?

It took a few minutes for Jack to answer. He could have been driving; practice had ended not long before.

You always look great, Jack finally texted back. Whatever you want is good. The more feminine one, though — it would take some getting used to for me, I guess. Although the eye makeup is cool.

Bitty exhaled, letting out tension he hadn’t been aware of.

My thoughts exactly, he said. I can make it Friday night as long as I get back here to be on the bus at 10:15 Saturday.

Great, Jack replied. I can drop you off by the library at 9:30 or so.

[boyfriendstevie]

kit. my beloved 🫶 if u want i think u would destroy me with [ DELAY ]  one muse is trying to get ready to go somewhere while the other keeps kissing them and unbutton/unzipping their clothes — and it’s date night and one of you can’t keep your paws off the other <3

only took me forever to write this oopsie sorry ily xoxo if you have any requests pls send them my way!! still trying to figure this whole thing out but def need some more to write! | gn!reader, oral (steve receiving); 1.4k MDNI!!!

-

“C’mere, babe,” you call to your boyfriend as you stand from the bed after slipping your shoes on. He’s fiddling with the tie around his neck, and it still doesn’t look quite right. “Need to fix that, Stevie. Lemme help.”

You’re going out to dinner for your date night. It’s supposed to be at a nice place, the kind that Steve had to make a reservation for. The kind where you both have to wear your nicest clothes. You’re both going all out, since you don’t get to do it often, and Steve is driving you crazy, even if he doesn’t mean to. You’ve wanted him since he got out of the shower earlier, a towel around his waist, hair dripping in his eyes, and bare chest on display. He’d shut down your advances earlier, not wanting to be late for your reservations, but had grinned at you as he murmured against your lips, “Later, honey.” 

Steve laughs and then groans as he turns to face you, hands falling to his sides in defeat, “Is it really that bad?”

“Well…” you trail off, glancing up at your boyfriend with a grimace. When he pouts, pushing his bottom lip out, you laugh and lean up on your toes to press a kiss to it, “Kidding! Can I help, though?” 

“Mhm,” he hums softly, returning a peck to your lips before you can get too far away. His big hands settle on your hips, warm through the fabric of your clothes, as you pretend to focus on the task at hand. You had no real intention of fixing his tie. In fact, you’re hoping to get him out of it.

Groaning, you pull the tie from around his neck, “Ugh, need to take it off to fix it.” You fiddle with it for a few seconds, and then glance back up at his chest, “Wait, your collar needs to be fixed, too, hold on…” 

He seems none the wiser as you pull at the collar of his shirt before trailing down to undo his top button. You’re not sure how far you’ll be able to get before he catches on, but you’re going to test it out. Steve squeezes at your hips as he watches you with a smile, and you grin up at him as you slide your fingers down, dragging against his skin until you reach the next button. 

Though he pretends not to, you can see the way Steve shivers at your touch, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You have to suppress your smirk as your fingers drift further down one more time, and just as you’re about to push the button through the small hole, one of Steve’s hands grabs at your wrist to stop you, “Baby, what—“

“What?” you ask innocently, eyes wide as you peer up at him. 

Steve huffs, raising his eyebrows as he gives you a knowing look, “You know what. We gotta go or we’ll be late.” He almost looks apologetic as he squeezes your wrist gently and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving to do up his buttons again.

Unfortunately for him, you’re not one to give up, and you try to bat his hands away, undoing the same one he’d just fixed. It’s your turn to pout now, “No no no, just let me—“ Your fingers follow his, a game of back and forth as you undo his buttons again and again only for him to fix them. 

You’re going to have to play dirty if you want to win, and you’re definitely not above it. You catch him off-guard by forgetting the buttons and lean up on your toes to press your mouth to his. He grunts in surprise, but reciprocates quickly, not immune to your kiss. For someone who has been insistent on not being late to dinner, he’s not helping any with the way he’s kissing you feverishly, nipping at your bottom lip as his hands slide lower and lower until he’s grabbing your ass, kneading the soft flesh. 

When your hands drag down his chest again, back to the buttons, Steve seems to accept defeat. You’re smug, grinning into the kiss as your nails scratch against his chest lightly, undoing all of the buttons on his shirt until you get to his pants. You fiddle with his belt, fingertips tracing along his hips and v-line lightly. Teasingly. His hips push towards your hands involuntarily and your eyes flick to his, a silent question. You know for sure he’s given in when he nods quickly. 

You make quick work of his belt, moving on to his button and zipper before shoving his pants over his hips. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his underwear to grasp his cock, fingers wrapping around the base as you work on leaving a mark on his neck. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as you stroke up towards the tip, “Oh, shit, babe— need—“

“My mouth on your pretty cock?” you ask into the crook of his neck. He’s already flushed; you can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and you’re sure if you pulled back to look at him, you’d find him glowing pink. 

“Please,” he nearly whines, a breathless sound. 

Tugging at his underwear, you pull it down enough to free his cock. He’s already hard, pretty and pink against the tan skin of his stomach. You maneuver the two of you around, and give his shoulders a gentle push until he gets the idea and sits at the edge of the bed. Placing your hands on his knees, you sink down onto your own in front of him, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Your hands push up his thighs, lips following the scratch of your nails in soft kisses. You can see the way his cock twitches as you near his hips, begging to be touched. Precum leaks from the tip, and you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his slit, tongue darting out to taste him. Fingers curling around his shaft again, you hum, glancing up to catch his gaze, “We can still be on time, if ya cum fast enough, Stevie.” It’s almost a taunt. A dare. 

His eyes squeeze shut as he grits out, “Christ, you’re a menace, baby.”

You don’t deny it, instead leaning forward to run your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, wrapping your lips around him and sucking. Steve moans, a sound from deep in his chest, hands clenching in a fist and then flexing on his thighs in an attempt to refrain from ruining your hair, “F-fuck, angel. Mouth feels so good. So warm an— fuuuck—“

He cuts himself off with another groan as you take him further into your mouth, hand pumping what doesn’t fit in your mouth. It’s so fucking wet from your spit and his precum, and the sounds your mouth and hand are making are obscene. It always makes you feel powerful, the way Steve moans and trembles when you’re making him feel good like this. His tummy clenches, fists twisting into the sheets next to him. 

There’s a soft pop sound as you lift your head to look up at him. Lips shining, you grin up at him, still stroking his cock, twisting your wrist in the perfect way as you ask, “Gonna cum for me, baby?” He nods desperately, hips bucking up into your wet fist, as if you’re still not giving him enough. “Don’t wanna be late,” you say again, squeezing his length, “Can’t ruin my makeup, guess y’have to cum in my mouth.” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he whines, watching your every move as you keep your eyes on his and lean back down to take him into your mouth again. You focus on his tip, your free hand coming up to play with his balls. 

He’s so fucking close, cock twitching in your mouth, so you hum, taking him in until your nose presses to the trimmed curls at the base of his cock. It’s enough to have him falling over the edge, spilling into your mouth. Steve whines, eyes squeezed shut, your name and a jumbled mess of expletives fall from his mouth, “Oh, fuck, honey— ‘m so close, gonna cum, please— nngh.” 

You take it all, continuing to pump him slowly to collect every last drop until he’s shaking underneath you, only coming up for air when he says, “Baby, baby… fuck. Okay, okay, ’s good. So good.” 

Pressing a kiss to his thigh and then his tummy, you finally sit back on your heels and wipe your hand across your wet mouth with a giggle, “Knew I could get you off and still have time for our reservation, Stevie.” 

Steve laughs at that, cheeks flushed as he shakes his head in disbelief, stroking his thumb across your cheek to wipe a bit of spit you missed, “Gonna have to make that up to you after dinner, honey.” 

"Not during?" you ask with a pout as you help to redress him, actually helping him to tie his tie this time.

"Don't push your luck, babe," he replies, but there's a glint in his eyes that you know all too well. One that means you'll definitely be sneaking off to the bathroom before your meals even get to the table.

[bloodmoonmuses]

it waits for dawn | lee taeyong

requested by an anon! send me an ask!

genre: taeyong x reader, friends to lovers, summer coworkers, non-idol au, fluff sorta kinda :)))

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of blood, some swearing

summary: while working your summer job, you meet an eclectic boy who's obsessed with stars and the beauty of the universe.

Working at the planetarium was an odd summer job, sure, but it was about the same pay as the ice cream shop or (God forbid) the zoo. The facility remained pretty empty most days, save for the occasional field trip or savvy tourist. For the first two weeks you worked there, it was just you and the manager, Taeil. Then, one day, Taeil says he finally found another lackey- some guy who just finished his undergrad. 

You’re not sure why a college graduate would be slumming it at a planetarium, but you don’t question the matter any further. At least now you’d have someone to split responsibilities with. 

“He’ll be here any minute,” Taeil tells you.

When he walks in, you’re a bit taken aback. His cotton candy hair and smattering of tattoos almost clashes with the nerdy polo and khakis he’s wearing. You assume this is his attempt at looking “professional”, which is funny because you’re in a band tee and cut-off shorts and Taeil is practically in pajamas. 

“I’m Taeyong,” he says bashfully, dipping his head as a greeting. 

You shake his outstretched hand and his ears turn red. He has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen, like a drawing almost. The prevailing word at the front of your mind is “cute”. He’s very cute.

Taeyong is a sticker book come to life, eclectic and vibrant against the dullness of the overcast day. You’ve never seen him around before. You would’ve remembered. He must be new in town- or a figment of your imagination. A part of you wishes it’s the latter.

“I’m ____,” you say, fixated on your still conjoined hands. When Taeyong realizes he hasn’t broken away from the hand shake, he drops his arm quickly, coughing to fill the awkward silence. Taeil is none the wiser. 

“If you could show him around the place, that’d be nice.” Taeil says nonchalantly. He walks back into his office, going to take his daily three hour nap. Taeyong looks at you confusedly.

“If you had any worry about this being a strenuous or uptight job-” Taeil’s snoring interjects, “-I can assure you, it is not.” you contend. “It’s like a movie theater, honestly. We run the projection presentations every other hour, and when there’s field trips, we walk the kiddos around for about 45 minutes or so.”

“Ah, really? That’s it, huh?” Taeyong looks a bit disappointed.

“Yeah. Pretty easy,” you say, shrugging. “Oh, and we stock the gift shop.”

—

The next day, Taeyong somehow manages to bomb his first real shift.. You’re shelving plushies in the gift shop when you hear a loud crashing sound. When you make your way to the supply room to see what happened, Taeyong is buried in a pile of commemorative cups on the floor. 

“You okay?” you ask, trying not to laugh. The moon phase tumblers are the most popular of the gift shop items, constantly needing to be restocked. 

“I think so,” he says. As you help him stand, you notice blood on his hand.

“Need a band-aid?” Taeyong’s eyes shimmer with tears, and he places his cut finger into his mouth, pouting a bit. He nods and you grab the first aid kit off the wall. It’s covered in a layer of dust from lack of use. You blow on its surface.

“How’d you cut your finger?” you ask, still giggling a bit.

“I tried to catch the box as it was falling.” He winces as the air hits his wound. “Ouch.”

You “tsk” at him, shaking your head as you open the first aid kit. “Taeyong, you gotta be more careful. Taeil doesn’t care if we live or die!”

He chuckles. “That’s not true! I think he has a soft spot for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this cleaned up.” You take some alcohol and soak a cotton ball. Then, you clean his (minor) cut, unwrapping a bandage and securing it around his finger. He looks at you with wide eyes.

“Kiss it better for me?” he asks, jutting out his lower lip and extending his hand towards you.

“You wish.”

—

Taeyong and you become quick friends. If he comes in for a shift after you, he brings you ice cream. If the two of you close together, he walks you to your car. If you take a day off, Taeyong sends you pictures of Taeil sleeping.

He’s a great conversationalist as well. You learn a lot about him over the summer. He wanted to be a firefighter before falling in love with art, dancing and music. Now, he has a bachelor’s degree in visual art. He shows you videos of him dancing and lets you look through his sketchbook. He talks about his sister and how she’s just as kind as him. He tells you about his love of stars, and how he mediates on them as if they’re lost lovers. 

Despite the warmth Taeyong’s eyes fill you with, there’s also an underlying sadness in them- stress beyond his years swimming beneath their sparkling glory. He doesn’t speak much of it, but you can feel it. You can also see that stress leaving his body everytime he cranks up the projector for the solar system presentation. His favorite planet is Saturn.

You’re quite fond of Taeyong. You realize this when you catch yourself staring at him on a particularly slow day. A few elderly couples have come to see the permanent exhibit in the front of the facility, but other than that, it’s just you and him here. Even Taeil has taken a day off, the sloth of summer’s near end seemingly blanketing the entire town. The day progresses in slow motion.

Taeyong’s sleeves are rolled up, exposing his arms. You study his tattoos, committing them to memory.  His ever changing hair has been black for a few weeks now, which was a bit out of the ordinary for him. He looks a bit pedestrian, if that’s even possible, and not elven like his usually colorful hair makes him seem.

Despite the snail pace of the day, Taeyong is working way more than is actually necessary- always a self-starter and ready to please. 

“Take a break, Taeyong. You’re gonna have a heat stroke.” The A/C unit is busted. Again. You’ve plugged in a few portable fans, but they’re not doing much.

“Inventory’s gotta get done eventually.” You’re enamored with the multitudes of Taeyong’s character. He’s often an easy going guy, but stern when it counts. Not a killjoy, or anything to that extent, just more upright than you’d assume at first glance. Such is the issue with assumptions; they’re just asking to be subverted. 

You feel bad watching Taeyong lug around boxes by himself, so you push your laziness aside and begin helping.

“I got it,” Taeyong says.

You continue to lift a box, following him on the trek from the supply closet to the gift shop. “I know you’ve got it, but you’re gonna die if you carry all of these on your own.”

“I’m not gonna die,” Taeyong says, blowing a few strands of hair out his face as wobbles about.

“Tell that to the red flush covering your whole body, Superman.” 

Taeyong huffs at you. “You’re so mean to me,” he says. There’s that lower lip again. It’s becoming your weakness, the more he pouts at you. Sometimes you tease him just to see it more often.

“Fine. Want me to stop?” you say, putting down the box you’re carrying. You pretend to walk off.

“No, don’t leave! I feel like I’m gonna die!” Tayong shrieks.

You deadpan at the cartoon of a human standing in front of you.

__

It’s a field trip day and the planetarium is packed. Unlike the usual, Taeil is actually helping, saying something along the lines of “all hands on deck” as if that doesn’t entail a total of six hands. The children stream in like a school of fish, neon summer camp shirts glowing in the bright sun. They’re beaming at one another, skipping and running around with boundless energy. Their liveliness sparks something in you, smiling so much that makes your cheeks hurt. What hurts more, however, is seeing how sweet Taeyong is with the kids. He takes the lead on showing them around the permanent exhibit, explaining the solar system and composition of stars and other space rocks. You watch from the back of the crowd, blaming the flush of your face on the temperature and not on the fact that Taeyong’s smile makes your breath hitch.

You should think he’s the nerdiest person in the world right now. This whole exchange would be great material to tease him with (-something about how he’s a softie and a loser or whatever). However, all you feel is a terrifying fondness taking over you, ripping at your chest as if it’d been ravaged by a lovesick wolf, its claw marks creating deep caverns where your heart lies. It fucking hurts how much you simply like him. You don’t even want to imagine- no, you can’t  even imagine what’d it be like to fall in love with him. 

One of the kids asks about Saturn and Taeyong nearly erupts with excitement. He talks in detail about its rings, tracing his fingers along the ridges of the replica of the planet. His eyes are sparkling, mirroring the faux stars above him. 

When kids leave, you glance at Taeyong. A tired smile is plastered on his face and he contently sighs. “That was so much fun.”

“I’m not sure who enjoyed it more- you or the kids,” you state. Taeyong chuckles. 

“Definitely me. I almost don’t wanna go home,” he says. 

“Then let’s stay.”

After finishing your closing duties, you and Taeyong meet in the planetarium’s theater. In the center of the rows of seats is a projector.  

“Lemme start the presentation,” he says, queuing up a video about Navajo astrology and constellations. “I’ve never actually gotten the chance to watch Southwestern Skies from the seats.” 

After he presses play, the two of you sit right in the middle of the theater. The video comes to life on the dome shaped ceiling. Your jaw drops in wonderment, feeling less self conscious when you see that Taeyong’s mouth is also agape in your periphery. Then, you’re drifting in outer space with him, your seats floating away into the ether as you become completely absorbed into the stars that surround you. You rest your arm on the divider between your chairs, subconsciously inching your hand towards Taeyong’s. As it draws nearer, your desire to interlace his hand in your own grows. The nerve endings at your fingertips buzz. Taeyong is magnetic. 

“This is my favorite part,” Taeyong whispers, awestruck. You try to break away from looking at him, to instead look at the display above you, but you can’t. Instead, you watch the stars in the reflection of his eyes. 

The dome bursts with an explosion of stars as various constellations fade into view. Orion’s Belt, The Big Dipper, Libra and Virgo- Taeyong had told you about them in detail, insisting on thumbing through his astrology textbook as he explained. (He stole it from the library, leaving five bucks on the counter to rid himself of any lingering karma.) Finally, the Milky Way comes into view- referred to as It Waits for Dawn by the Navajo people. Taeyong audibly gasps. 

“I think the whole thing is your favorite part," you tease. 

“Mmm.” He nods in agreement.

Distantly, your mind wanders to how the summer is coming to a close. You’re not sure what will come of you and Taeyong’s friendship. You hope he won’t be a memory, or strangers like the two of you started as. You want him to be a fixture in your life- a constellation to familiarize yourself with and never tire of, even as the universe expands.

You realize you’ve been laying your head on Taeyong’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you move to sit up. 

“It’s okay,” he says. Then, he places his hand on your head, guiding it back to his shoulder. “Unless your neck hurts, or something. Then, I won’t force you,” he adds hurriedly. 

“No, no. It’s good. I’m good,” you say, returning your head to its original position. When the presentation ends, the lights in the theater automatically come up. Suddenly, the moment feels too intimate for daylight, and Taeyong must agree, because he’s tense. You can feel it in his shoulder, the anxiety radiating off of him in waves, but he doesn’t tell you to move, so you continue to rest your head on him 

“Does the universe scare you? All the stars and planets and the unknown...” Taeyong says out of nowhere. Before you can respond, he says, “Ah, nevermind. Forget I asked.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as he backtracks.

“I like the question, silly!” You consider your answer for a moment, lost in thought. “ How infinite it is, yes. But the universe as a concept is very romantic. Like, philosophically speaking.”

“How so?”

You shrug. “It brought us together.”

“What a pretty thought,” he says. 

Life’s a bunch of little universes sewn together. Self contained and finite worlds that exist within infinity. Like your summer with Taeyong- a blip in the grandeur of your life, simply due to how little time he’s spent in it. You want to sew a little bit more of him into your universe. To make him more than a blip. To make him your entire universe. 

“Can I kiss you?” you ask suddenly, throwing caution to the wind.

“I’d like that,” he contends. 

You lift your head from his shoulder and place a delicate peck to his cheek. Taeyong gently grasps your chin, guiding your face to his. He then kisses you on the lips, tenderly, his lips just barely grazing yours. The moment seems to stretch on for infinity, though only lasting a few minutes, and you make haste to sew it into the fabric of your memory.

a/n: unedited + feedback is always appreciated!