Muse: Min Yoongi x Reader Genre: Lots of fluff and the usual pinch of angst! Word: 3.5k Type: A friends with benefits AU ─In which one of you falls in love with the other and confesses without saying the three little words. + College AU
Cute winter hats on Amazon! Most of these are available in a few different colors, except the last one, which you can get in a kerjillion different colors! Kerjillion is a scientific term. >_> And all of the ones with fur are confirmed to be faux fur ^^
- His bedroom is a super cozy. Carmensita helped him decorate it with fairy lights because Mat gets anxiety in the dark. He has a purple duvet because it’s his favorite color.
- Whenever he doesn’t feel like making dinner he orders cheese pizza. He hates toppings on his pizza. Pepperoni? Absolutely not. Oregano? Never. Pineapple? You heathen.
- Ever since the MC started hanging out at his house, he started to burn candles. His favorite scent is lavender.
- Mat has a few burn scars on his hands from his early days of being a barista and rough callouses on his fingers from playing the guitar. He gets blushy when the MC plays with his hands/traces his tattoos.
- Mat gets colds very easily. He has one of those high pitched, soft sneezes that are really adorable.
- He…. he knits.
- He really wants a shorthair cat. He went to the animal shelter once and almost adopted a really cute grey one that has it’s tongue stuck out.
Namjoon x Reader // College!AU, Rugby!AU // 12.8k words
Summary: You wanted nothing more than to leave behind your old self when you graduated from high school and moved on to college to play rugby but when you see your high school classmate, resident fuckboy and captain, Kim Namjoon, at the rugby department orientation, you feel like everything might fall apart.
A/N: lmao soz for the weird header but I couldn’t find a good gif. Anyway, this was once supposed to be part of a collab but I’ve since revamped it and I hope you guys like it!! this one’s mainly for @hijoonie who sent me numerous encouraging messages when I talked about how inadequate I felt compared to those other bigger writers (’: I hope you like it!!
Forgettable. A single word that
encapsulated who you were. You drifted in and out of high school, always in
class, always present at practice yet whenever your name was mentioned, the
usual response is a short pause before they say something along the lines
of, oh right, her… I think I’ve seen her around before…
It wasn’t that the people in your
school were overtly unfriendly in any way but you had come in to the school
halfway through sophomore year, the only new face they had seen in years and
the stares you got made you feel so out of place. Just about everyone had their
own group of friends and it just seemed like there was no space for you or at
least that’s what you told yourself. You hated the move to this new town, to be
uprooted from the place you had called home for so many years and you were so,
so bitter. Dread was all you felt whenever you woke up in a house that wasn’t
familiar and gloom was all that surrounded you when you walked on a path to a
school you didn’t recognise.
Your classmates were excited of
course, about Y/N the new transfer student but you didn’t seem to share in that
emotion, always trying to push them away. You didn’t want to like this town and
so, subconsciously you were trying to make it seem like this school was a
horrible place. It was an almost masochistic way of living, if you will.
Slowly, your classmates gave up on trying to include you in their conversations
because they weren’t going to waste their time on someone who just wanted to be
Year after year, you sat in your
seat, letting yourself stew in thoughts about how much better your life would’ve
been if you hadn’t moved, hatred brewing within you with each passing day. Wake
up, school, homework, sleep, repeat. That was all you did for 3 years. In a
way, you weren’t really making the most out of your time at high school. You
were simply drifting through life, trying your best to get through high school
unscathed. Sad. It’s the only word that could describe what you were but you
only had you and your stubbornness to blame.
Yvonne Strahovski attends The
Hollywood Reporter and SAG-AFTRA Inaugural Emmy Nominees Night presented
by American Airlines, Breguet, and Dacor at the Waldorf Astoria Beverly
Hills - September 14, 2017
In my inbox so fast! I’m impressed, Anon. 5 for you, Anon.
“Mick… what the shit is this?”
The other man grunted but didn’t answer. Len entered the room carefully, eyes scanning in interest. The multicolored yarn, the balls of it everywhere. Mick with knitting needles in his hand, carefully counting stitches. He had glasses on.
“I asked you a question.”
Len sighed and waited. They were supposed to be planning a job. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this.
After a moment, Mick directed his attention at Len. “It’s knitting.”
“I got that.”
“I picked it up last time I was in the Heights.”
“You….” Len had to process that. It wasn’t unheard of. Lots of inmates found knitting calming and rewarding, especially at maximum security places. Inmates at Alcatraz had been famous for it. “Why didn’t I know you knit?”
“Never needed to work it on the outside.”
Len felt an itch of worry. Was his partner–his partner–going so stir crazy that he felt like he was in prison again. Len didn’t think he’d imposed that many boundaries on him since renewing their partnership (in every sense of the word).
“Relax, Snart,” Mick’s voice grumbled, calm and refocusing on his knitting. “It ain’t like that.”
Len came over and inspected the pattern he was working on. It looked like it was gonna be a beanie.
“So what’s it like then?”
Mick grinned up at him. “You’re ‘Captain Cold’ now, asshole. Gotta keep you warm somehow.”
He reached behind him and something hit Len in the face. He spluttered and stepped back, and when the thing dropped into his arms, he realized it was a beautiful blue and white scarf.
“Now,” Mick said decisively, looking down at the blue and yellow hat-in-the-making, “once I’m done Axel’s, think Lisa’ll want mitts, or should I try sweaters?”
Matching knit goods. Only Mick. Len knew he married this man for a reason.