citrusandcyanide

[citrusandcyanide]

Mechanic! Lip

[citrusandcyanide]

[citrusandcyanide]

🗣️🗣️ fwb college!lip realizing he’s catching feelings post-sex!!! the most stereotypical but delicious trope for our relationship-avoidant king

lip wakes in a dorm that’s not his. he rubs sleep from one eye while lazily blinking the other, eyeing your noisy roommate who gets up with a deep annoyance directed at the both of you. you, on the other hand, don’t move from your spot near the wall, shielded away by his body, knocked the fuck out after a long night together. he appreciates it. lately, you’ve been more stressed due to the piling school work and it’s nice to rely on lip and shut your brain off, or more so, he shuts it off for you.

he glides his hand up and down your back, memories of the night before floating by. his hand on your neck, your legs around his waist, the deep arch in your back when he moved you onto your hands and knees and you braced your hands against the wall because the angle felt better at a perpendicular position. he recalls kissing your shoulder, muttering his praises, wiping your mind blank and his own of the responsibilities of college and the ones waiting for you two at home.

“shh,” he warns your roommate. she gives him an eye roll.

“you don’t even li—”

“shut the fuck up,” he yell-whispers.

her jaw clenches. he can tell she wants to argue further with him, but she has an early morning class. she grabs her jacket and shoots him a final glare, daggers piercing, and then she leaves the dorm. lip relaxes once she’s gone, peering to your face to ensure you stay asleep. he’s grateful to see you’re still unperturbed.

you need this. you have a work study and you pulled an all nighter the other day to finish an essay he barely understood due to how different your fields are that you’re studying. all he could offer was a shoulder and head afterwards, perfectly sating you into relaxation much like last night when you kept on rambling and his head still hurt from his quizzes earlier in the day.

lip adjusts your pillow and your neck so you don’t wake with it aching. he plants a kiss onto your forehead as he does. he just wants you to be comfortable. you’re going through so much. he knows what that’s like, going through a tumultuous phase in his life himself. anytime he has a second to breathe, more shit goes wrong. it’s the same thing happening to you. life finds a way to be shittier and shittier, so if he can make it less so, he will.

you look so pretty as you sleep. so… at peace. he lingers to watch, smiling to himself as you adjust, as your nose twitches, as a soft snore escapes for a moment before returning to your deep breathing. he doesn’t tire of the sight. of your mumbled questions and your laugh. he looks forward to seeing you after thinking about you all through class. maybe you wouldn’t mind meeting his family, as fucking crazy as they are. he has a feeling you’d accept them and—

what the fuck is he doing?

it hits lip like a freight train. when exactly did this start up? he can’t remember when he just had sex with you and you two parted ways without much discussion or preamble, agreeing to do it again without having to say it through texts asking for availability. at some point that he didn’t notice, and he wonders if you haven’t, this changed. you started to actually talk and open up more. and soon, he did the same, sharing stories and circumstances before sex, having pillow talk after… kissing as you both recovered, sleeping together without it being sexual, asking about each other’s days, good morning texts, shared embraces, easy conversations, fucking outings where nothing happened, but his hand still held onto yours.

he scrambles out of the bed after carefully detangling himself from you. he picks up his pants from the floor as quietly as he can, pushing one leg through and then the other. he can’t keep doing this with you. you’re… it’s too much. all of this is. the last thing he needs is another person to care about when things always go sour and relationships don’t work with gallaghers. if he’s caring about you, what about school, himself, what about his family? he doesn’t have time for it. he’s a shit boyfriend anyway. mandy could tell you that. karen, bless her and screw her for several reasons, could say it even if they never were officially together. lip’s no fucking good. not for you.

his head jerks up after searching for his shirt on the floor to the image of you groaning and stretching your arms. you glance up at him sleepily.

“where you going?” you yawn.

“… uh… class,” he mumbles.

“i thought you didn’t have one until 10?” you prompt next.

yeah. of course you know that. he told you last night, an excuse to fuck you longer, hold you longer, spend more time with you–

“you’re right… uh, i don’t. forgot,” he lamely replies. he fidgets as you stare at him and it’s then he realizes he sees his shirt peeking from under the sheets, still in the bed.

“then come back to sleep,” you say with shutting eyes, snuggling the sheets and scooting to make room for him in the tiny frame.

he sighs as he looks at your tired features. he should go. he should turn around and ghost you, stop answering your texts, stop telling you good morning, decrease how much he comes to see you, flat out ignore when you ask him to. he should find someone else, some other broad that can help satisfy him, someone he doesn’t get tingles in his stomach and fingers from when he looks at them. he needs to forget about you before it’s too late, before he ruins you, before his life gets fucked again and he drowns you in shit that’s none of your business, that never should have been your business. these feelings are fucking bullshit.

but something in lip unbuttons his jeans. something in lip unconsciously undoes his buckle and zipper, drops his pants back to his ankles, carries himself with heavy footsteps back into your bed. something in him tells the doubts to shut the fuck up as he settles back against you much like he did your roommate, and something winds up silencing them as he breathes your scent. he holds you closer to him and fuck it all, he smiles as you kiss him. he smiles as he’s the one to kiss you back with more fervor, and oddly content with sharing more lazy kisses before dozing off for another nap.

something in him knows this won’t end well… but another something in lip just feels too good about this and… and he doesn’t want it to stop.

[citrusandcyanide]

reposting after "accidentally" deleting it

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

just a little lip gallagher help and tea

tags n warnings: lip gallagher x reader, language, maybe robbery, platonic. word count: +700

“Hey!" Lip Gallagher shouted from the other sidewalk. You look at him, nervously switching your gaze between him and the wheelbarrow on the verge of tipping over with three gallon jugs of water. "the fuck you doin?”

“Water?” you ask, shrugging your shoulders, trying to sound confident despite the embarrassment of the situation.

“Yeah, I got that.” He says, slightly irritated, crossing the street with his hands in his pockets, taking them off to grab the wheelbarrow.

“No!” You swat his hand away, and he looks at you with an exaggeratedly offended expression, nudging you with his hip to take the wheelbarrow.

“Just accept the fucking help.” He grumbles, pushing it toward the entrance of his house, past the rusted iron fences.

“Thanks.” You mumble, looking down, hands shoved in the pockets of your hoodie.

“Did they cut off your water again?” He asks, leaving the wheelbarrow by the entrance steps.

“Yeah. Didn't pay the bill ‘cause I got fired. It's been driving me crazy. I don’t even know how I'm going to survive this month. It was either water or electricity.” You explain your miserable situation to Lip, probably the only person who’d understand.

“Eh, everyone can survive a few days without a shower.” He quips, making you laugh.

“Especially you, Lip.” You tease, and he opens his mouth with that classic, funny indignation you've come to know so well.

“Look, I don’t smell.” He defends himself, still laughing. “Not my fault if the water runs out before I do.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, heading toward the jugs to grab one, but he stops you again, gently nudging you aside. “What now?”

“I’ll carry it. You work like a fucking machine, you'll ruin your organs before graduate in college.” He says, and you know he’s right, and probably the only person who’d help you. 

He picks up the jugs one by one, carrying them to the kitchen, where you stay to make tea for both of you. He sighs, sitting down at the table.

“Too heavy?” You joke, placing the cup in front of him.

“No, just tiring.” He replies, taking a sip of the tea. “You’re weird. How do you have money for all this fancy tea, but not for the water bill?”

“Crazy, right?” You comment, and he laughs through his nose, softly groaning in pleasure from the sweet taste of the tea. “I think it's just some kind of thing to distract me from the misery of this crappy place.”

“Better than mine, for sure.” He adds, glancing around at your chaotic house, but somehow it feels more comforting to him than anywhere else. Your house felt like a home. “Can I move in?”

“Can you get water from Mrs. Callaway’s faucet every day?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Deal. Cheap rent to live in my best friend’s house.” He says, grinning, finishing the last sip of tea. “What is this? It’s so good.”

“Ginger with cinnamon and cloves. I also added hibiscus. Brown sugar for that nice color.” You recite, and he looks at you in awe, shaking his head. “What?”

“I’ve seen stuff like this on TV. You’re amazing. Can I have more?” He asks, offering you his cup.

“Of course.” You smile, grabbing the cup and heading to the kitchen, hiding the goofy grin that spread across your face when he complimented you.

He follows you, eyeing the containers on the shelf, tracing each little label with his finger. Rosemary, lemon balm, coriander seeds, jasmine, tangerine, pineapple peel—some written in languages he couldn’t even name.

“What’s the one we’re drinking? I know you have an answer for every single one, you weirdo.” He jokes, watching you laugh with your whole body as you hand him another cup.

“Colds, warming up, aches. Lots of stuff.” You explain, and he nods, closing his eyes to savor it again.

“Hey, when I move in, you’re just gonna make me drink tea and forget about meals? Like, some evil witch?” 

“What were you expecting? That's so obvious.” You continue the joke, and he smiles, finishing his tea, that warm feeling settling in his chest.

“Yeah, I could stand to lose a few pounds.” He says with a funny tone, leaning back against the sink to look at you. That afternoon, Lip tried more teas than he ever imagined. He never knew chamomile could actually work this well, because he slept beside you like he never had before.

[citrusandcyanide]

day four — misunderstood moves

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — summary; trying to ask your best friend out on a date, but he thinks you’re trying to ask someone else (Lip Gallagher x fem!reader)

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — warnings; mutual pinning, they’re both kinda oblivious, they kiss at the end, possible ooc lip, that’s it tho i think?? 

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — word count; 1,096

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — a/n; special thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for being the motivation to write for lip and carmy, thank you olive🫶🫶

prev day | next day louie’s 14 days of love | main masterlist

you and Lip have been friends for as long as you can remember, doing everything together and being classes as joined at the hip due to your closeness.

this of course, led to speculation and rumours that you were dating.

you’d never understood it before, neither of you did, but now— now you harboured feelings for Lip that you hadn’t told anyone about.

tonight though, you planned to tell him.

you’d invited him over, on the premise of having to tell him something. this of course had piqued his interest, though everything about you intrigued him, because he felt the same exact way about you. 

tilting your head, you lay it on his shoulder. ignoring the plume of smoke as he exhaled and pulled the cigarette from his lips, offering it over to you before you shook your head. 

“hey Lip?”

you murmured softly, looking up at him with softened eyes. catching the way his lips curled up slightly before he hummed, looking away again as he took another drag of his cigarette. 

“if you liked someone, how would you.. you know, ask them out?”

the words came out quieter than expected, nervousness riddled through them. 

he choked on the drag he had taken, something he’d never done in all the time you’ve known him and he’d started smoking. 

Lip coughed, his face scrunching in surprise at the unexpected question. he quickly cleared his throat, trying to play it cool as he exhaled a cloud of smoke but his eyes flicked over to you with that familiar mix of curiosity and hesitation.

“dunno, i uh—you asking for a friend?”

he teased, though his surprise remained. his lips had curved into a half smirk, but his eyes avoided yours. 

with the way he failed to meet your eyes, his demeanour avoidant— it had you shifting anxiously next to him. 

“well.. yeah—i just, guess i’ve never known how to”

you mumbled, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip. after a beat, Lips eyes focused on you again, as if he was giving your words more weight than he usually would. 

“wouldn’t overthink it, you just.. ask”

he shrugged, lifting the cigarette to his lips again and taking another drag from it. you watched him as he did it, sighing slightly as your mind raced. 

it felt silly, being so worked up and worried over something you shouldn’t be, but Lips your best friend. 

and best friends don’t have crushes on each other.. right?

“who were you uh, trying to ask?”

he spoke up, glancing towards you and tilting his head ever so slightly. giving him a half smile before you sighed, mouth opening and closing as words failed to form proper sentences. 

each word died on the tip of your tongue, which made you sigh again. 

“just this guy”

you had managed to get out after a minute, glancing away as he quirked an eyebrow. something akin to a chuckle leaving him as he took the last draw of his cigarette, flicking it aside as he exhaled. 

“this guy?”

he questioned, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. rolling your eyes before slapping at his shoulder, earning another chuckle from him. 

despite his chuckles and the smiles he was giving, he was fighting an inner turmoil and worry. 

he wanted that guy to be him, but you wouldn’t. you were best friends after all. 

“there’s this girl too”

that piqued your interest, though it also broke your heart a little. 

there was some girl that your best friend liked, while you liked him. if there was any chance with him, it was currently going out the window. 

“what girl?”

you asked quietly, almost embarrassed by your eagerness to know. he gave a chuckle as he shook his head, dropping his gaze to where you were basically curled into his side. 

both of you often sat like this, or even closer, but tonight it all felt different. 

“she’s cute”

he shrugged, but it didn’t answer your question. it only made your worries of losing him to another girl worse. 

in his head, he thought it was obvious he was talking about you. he thought you were the only girl in the world really, and he done his best to show it. 

now though, Lip had taken notice to the way you failed to meet his eyes and the deep sighs you let out. 

“what’s up?”

you met his eyes again at his question, giving another half smile before sighing again. 

“you like another girl”

he froze at your mumbled words, though his lips quickly curled into a smirk. he nudged your shoulder before wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. 

your eyebrows knitted together as he stifled a laugh, trying to pull yourself from his arms to ask what was funny when he replied. 

“i don’t like another girl, i like you”

it was your turn to freeze now. 

he liked you? Lip Gallagher liked you?

god that felt like a dream, and you couldn’t help your lips curling into a smile at the fact that actually liked you back. 

“you like me?”

he chuckled again but nodded, letting you turn to face him as his arm fell away from around you. 

“yeah dummy”

you nudged at his shoulder at the name, but leaned into him again nonetheless. 

resting your head on his shoulder as you whispered to him. 

“i like you too”

you couldn’t see the look on his face but you knew it was something akin to smug, his lips still curled into a smirk. 

“thought it was obvious that i liked you”

he told while resting his head against yours, listening to you scoff slightly before shaking your head. 

meeting his eyes again, whispering out to him before his eyes fell to your lips. 

“clear as dirt”

he gave a half offended ‘hey’ while you laughed, Lip laughing too after a moment. 

generally, whenever the two of you were this close Lip always admired you, but now that he knew you liked him it made his admiration go further. 

“can i kiss you?”

he asked without thinking, and you nodded just as mindlessly. 

his lips pressed to your softer than either of you expected, quickly melting into his kiss while his hands cradled your face. 

after a minute you pulled apart, though keeping your faces inches apart as you whispered out to him. 

“kiss me forever please”

Lip stole another kiss, just as soft as his precious kiss. pulling back again he whispered against your lips. 

“whenever you want them”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[citrusandcyanide]

white coded fics be like: “he runs his fingers through your long silky hair, massaging your scalp until you fall into a deep slumber”

my black ass, my head wrap, and my bonnet:

[citrusandcyanide]

Masterlist

Last updated Nov 8th, 2024 --------

Lip Gallagher Fics + Drabbles:

The First Time (Complete)

Can’t Lost you (Complete), Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Coquette! Reader

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

Prince Zuko (ATLA):

Broken Glass (On Going), Part 1

[citrusandcyanide]

Broken Glass [Zuko x OC!Sandbender] ~ Ch 1

Synopsis: The white lotus tasks a sand bender with guiding Prince Zuko and His uncle out of the desert  Pairing: Zuko x OC!Sandbender Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: The show didn’t really explore sand benders that much. We really only see them steal Appa and also how the towns are set up based on the Oasis. I tried to do as much research as I can for mentions of them outside of the series, but a lot of the stuff I’m winging it or basing off my knowledge of North African tribes. For actual character design, I imagine Soraya being similar in appearance to The Hammer from Avatar Legends, but I describe the clothes to be sand-colored, like the rest of the sand benders we see in the series. This is an x OC! I think it could be read as easily as an x reader.This fic starts in the flower shop scene where Iroh is talking to the white lotus. For the sake of time, I'm gonna assume everyone already knows and remembers the plot of the series, so I don’t have to rewrite everything. This is also aged up, both Zuko and Soraya are 18. 

—

“You must be Zuko.” 

Zuko’s head shoots up as an unknown figure closes the door behind them. The prince takes a defensive stance as he studies the stranger. She’s a woman, dressed in sand-colored tribal clothes, her face and hair covered by a scarf. All Zuko could see were her piercing green eyes lined with thick black eyeliner. He hadn’t been in the desert for long, but inferring she was a sandbender wasn't hard. She stopped walking toward him once he got into a fighting position. 

“Relax, Your Highness,” she addressed him again. Zuko had half the mind to scold her mocking tone, but he was more concerned about who this girl was and what business she had knowing who he was. He silently prayed his uncle would hurry up and exit the room so they could leave this town. He wasn’t growing any fonder of the desert heat or people residing in it. Zuko stayed silent, not budging from his stance and the girl rolled her eyes as she let out a sigh. “I have no interest in fighting. The meeting is still going on huh?” 

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He dropped the fighting stance as the girl walked past him, located two cushions on the floor near the back door, and took a seat. “Who are you?” Zuko asked the girl. Her face was still covered, and although she didn’t look like she had any interest in fighting, Zuko wasn’t fond of how comfortable she was making herself. He also was confused about how she knew about the meeting. 

“A friend of a friend,” She replied as she rested her back against the wall. She taps the cushion beside her, motioning for him to sit. “It’ll be a while till your uncle is done talking. I suggest you rest your legs now. Don’t know the next chance you’ll have before your journey.” 

“I don’t have friends,” Zuko retorted, still not moving from his standing position. The girl shook her head again. She reached up to the corner of her eyes and pulled down the scarf to expose her face. Her skin was deeply tanned. Zuko assumed it was from exposure to the sun. Her eyes weren’t her only striking feature. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty the young woman was, but he quickly pushed the thought aside, reminding himself that she was still a stranger. She wore a soft smile as she looked at him, something he rarely saw from strangers during his travels.  

“I hope you stay open to making some. Call me Soraya,” the girl said, reaching her hand out to him. It took a moment for Zuko to shake her hand, but Soraya looked patient. Like she wasn’t going to put it down until he returned the gesture. Once he did, Soraya tapped the cushion next to her again. “Sit.” 

Zuko obliged begrudgingly. Soraya’s smile grew, content that he was relaxing slightly. He sat quietly with an annoyed look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Soraya studied him from the corner of her eye. This was her first time meeting a prince, let alone fire nation royalty. He wasn’t at all what she imagined. She didn’t know what she expected when she was told the banished prince of the Fire Nation was here. Maybe she had pictured something closer to the Fire Nation wanted posters that were plastered around the village. Soraya thought the buzz cut he wore now looked much better than the long ponytail that he wore in the portraits. She made note that the scar over his left eye, along with the sour expression he wore were the only things from the portrait that gave his identity away. She hoped he’d loosen up a bit, so she could see his face without the grimace. She couldn’t blame him for how defensive he acted. She had witnessed the fight that ensued in the tavern only a few hours before. If it wasn’t for the sudden announcement of their presence, she might not have realized who they were. 

As much as Zuko was uncomfortable sitting beside this stranger, he was becoming more uncomfortable with the silence. He had been in the shop for much longer than this girl, and his patience was wearing thin. Soraya, on the other hand, looked completely calm. From their previous conversation, Zuko assumed she knew much more about the meeting going on inside than he did. So he decided to ask about it. “What’s going on inside that room? and what does this have to do with a Pai Sho tile?” 

Zuko’s questions came out a lot more hurried than he intended. Soraya looked at him surprised to hear him speak up, but soon the smile she wore returned to her face. And why do you keep smiling at me like that? Zuko thought but didn’t dare speak it. 

“It’s a White Lotus meeting, named after the tile. You are not a member which is why I’m assuming you are sitting out here. That is as much as I can tell you, but I’m sure your uncle would be able to explain it to you more. They’re working on a plan to get you out of here safely,” Soraya responded, not sure the prince would be satisfied with the answer. 

“You’re sitting out here too. Does that mean you are also not a member?” Zuko retorted, obviously annoyed with the whole situation. Soraya shook her head. 

“I am, but Fung sent me out to get your passports,” She pulled out two passports from her pocket setting them on her lap. She took the opportunity to tease him, “Think he also told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t burn the shop down.” 

“I don’t need to be babysat!” Zuko yelled before angrily throwing his head in his hands, but it came out sounding more like a whine. Soraya laughed quietly. 

“No one is babysitting you. I’m sure they’ll be done soon. Then you’ll be on your way.” Soraya heard Zuko let out a deep sigh at her response. 

It took hours until the meeting was done. Zuko had fallen asleep against the wall beside Soraya. She was glad she offered him a place to sit down. She was worried if she didn’t he would have stayed standing for the rest of the night. She could have joined the meeting at any point. No one had told her she needed to keep an eye on the prince, but he intrigued her. She didn’t mind being around him. Every once in a while, she’d turn her head to look towards Zuko. She couldn’t help but study his face. He was handsome, she supposed, especially when his face wasn’t scrunched up in a scowl. He looked tired from traveling for so long. Soraya normally enjoyed talking to travelers about their journeys outside of the desert, but she could tell he needed the sleep more. So she waited the remaining hours of the night until Fung exited the door with Iroh following close behind. She stood up and offered a bow to both of them. 

“It is an honor to share the presence with a Grand Lotus,” Soraya bowed deeper as she addressed Iroh. She was greeted with a big smile on the old man’s face. 

“Please, child. The pleasure is all mine.” 

“Soraya, have you secured the passports?” Fung asked her. She instantly brought them out of her pockets. She handed them to Fung. “I hope you have yours as well.” 

Soraya looked at him confused. She was only told to get two passports. Nothing was said about why she would need one. “I do have a valid passport, but sir, I wasn’t informed that I would need one.” 

The conversation seemed to have woken Zuko up. As soon as he saw Soraya talking to his uncle, he jumped up to stand alongside them. “What’s going on? Is the club meeting over?” 

“Everything is taken care of. We're heading to Ba Sing Se,” Iroh responded to his nephew. Iroh and Fung Bowed to each other respectively. Iroh turned back to look at Soraya “And our new friend will be joining us.” 

Soraya’s eyes widened. This hadn’t been part of the plan. She regretted her decision to not join the meeting so she could have argued against it, but she wasn’t in a place where she could deny the request. She would lead the Grand Lotus and Fire Nation prince to Ba Sing Se safely and then she would return to the desert. Fung would often task her as a navigator. Soraya knew the desert better than the back of her hand, but he had never told her to go as far as this. It wasn’t like she had anything else do to for the next few weeks, still, she wished she had time to prepare. 

“Why would we go to the Earth Kingdom capital‌?” Zuko questioned, “And why are we bringing her?” 

The annoyance in his voice at the second question irritated the girl. Soraya did her best to keep her composure. She wasn’t about to lose her temper in front of her elders, especially not someone as important as a Grand Lotus. 

“The city is filled with refugees. No one will notice a few more,” Fung replied. “Soraya knows how to navigate the desert better than anyone. She is the best Sandbender I know. She’ll get you there safely.” 

“We can hide in plain site there. And it’s the safest place in the world from the Fire Nation. Even I couldn’t break through the city,” Iroh continued with a shrug. At that moment. The bells on the front door signaled someone entering the shop. A young man approaches the group. Soraya recognizes him as another white lotus member. 

“There are two men out on the street looking for our guests. You need to leave now,” He said quickly. 

— 

Soraya exited the flower shop, pulling two big flowerpots on a wooden wagon, thus beginning their journey to Ba Sing Se. She was looking forward to being further away from the shop because she was quickly growing tired of pulling the wagon behind her. Zuko was also not enjoying hiding in an old flower pot. After what seemed like an hour, Zuko pushed his head outside of the pot and looked over at Soraya. He could only see her back. From their lack of surroundings, he assumed they were already far into the desert. 

“How much longer do we have to be in these stupid pots?” Zuko asked in an irritated tone that Soraya realized she was going to have to get used to. She turned back to look at him and stopped pulling the cart. Iroh popped his head out of his pot as well. 

“If you prefer to walk, be my guest. But we’re nowhere close to your destination,” Soraya replied to the prince. Zuko pulled himself out of the pot, turning around to help Iroh out next. He immediately started walking past Soraya. She sighed, quickly burying the wagon in the sand with her bending. “Where are you going?” 

Zuko didn’t turn back. “We don’t need your help anymore. We can make it there on our own.”

“You don’t know where you’re going. You won’t last a day without me,” She called out to him. 

“Prince Zuko, I think it is wise to listen to the young lady. She knows this land better than we do,” Iroh Chimed in. Iroh and Soraya followed after him. A few paces behind. “I’m sorry my nephew is so stubborn. We are lucky to have you with us. I hope he soon will see it too.” 

Soraya sighed as they watched Zuko walking ahead. His steps were hard as he charged forward, but the force served useless against the sand. He had to fight to keep his feet from burying themselves underneath him.. She offered a smile to Iroh. “I can’t say I understand, but I am thrilled to be of service to you, Master. My father has told me a lot about you. He was the one who taught me the ways of the White Lotus.” 

“There is no need for formalities, dear. Call me Iroh,” Iroh smiled back brightly. “Fung filled me in all about you and your father. I wish I had the chance to apologize directly for taking you away from him for this.” 

Soraya shook her head. “He is used to me disappearing for months. I am mostly nomadic these days. Father prefers to stay with the tribe. As long as I stay in communication with Fung, he doesn’t mind so much.” 

“I see,” Iroh replied. “It seems you are a wondering spirit like Zuko. You must have just as many travel adventures as we do. I am sure you two will get along great.” 

“Is he… always this moody?” She was hesitant to ask, but she felt like she needed to know fully what she was getting into. She didn’t see how Iroh could be so confident. Nothing about any of their interactions made Soraya confident that he’d warm up to her. “When I walked into the shop he looked ready to fight me.” 

“His position in life has not made it easy to trust those around him. He has been labeled a traitor to his whole nation and banished by his father. Patience is the most valuable thing we can give him,” Iroh sighed, watching Zuko as he walked ahead. His pace had slowed down. He no longer walked as angrily. Iroh expected the sand bender to ask more, but she showed no reaction to the mention of the Fire Nation. They had almost caught up to Zuko when Iroh brought it to question. “The White Lotus serves to transcend the boundaries between nations. We devote our lives to the study of all elements, but it is understandable to let violence influence our perceptions of each other. I am sure it is not easy for you to join us.”

Zuko now walked by his uncle’s side, Soraya walking on the opposite side of his uncle. He had only half been listening to their conversation. He didn’t know why he cared to hear what his uncle had been talking to her about. Zuko also didn’t see why she had joined them, but he was curious why she had agreed to help them. She was the first Earth Kingdom person they had come across who didn’t automatically hate them. Once a stranger realizes they were Fire Nation, all kindness shown to them would be thrown out the window. Zuko thought back to Lee, the young Earth Kingdom boy, and how quickly his feelings turned on him after learning his true identity. He expected the same from everyone. Soraya knew who he was all along. And yet, in that flower shop, she greeted him with a smile. He couldn’t figure out why. So he waited quietly for an answer to his uncle. 

“I realized it was pointless long ago to swear hatred of an entire element. Fire itself is not evil. Any element has the power to be used for harm in the hands of the wrong people. The White Lotus is where I find my comfort despite the war. It keeps me grounded,” Soraya replied after a long while of silence. Eventually she pulled down her scarf to reveal her face once more. She turned her head to face Iroh and noticed she had Zuko’s attention as well. “My mother was a firebender. She was murdered for being a traitor to her Nation. I can’t hate something that was such an important part of her, but I can despise what killed her. Any traitor of the Fire Nation is a friend of mine.” 

Soraya smiled as she locked eyes with Zuko, who was unable to hide the shock from his face. A month ago, he would have been offended by her last statement. Maybe even threaten to throw her in prison as soon as he returned home. Now, he didn’t think he cared. He after all was hiding from the nation he was destined to rule. He was a traitor afterall. Soraya knew that. Her words felt like both a threat and a vow of trust. He looked at Soraya as she smiled. It was the same kind smile she had shown to him in the flower shop. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him so kindly. He decided it wasn’t a bad thing this time. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to make a friend of her after all. 

“Soraya,” Zuko addressed her, causing both his uncle and the girl to look at him surprised. Zuko stopped walking, turned to face them and bowed in her direction. “I’m sorry for being so rude. We are honored to have you with us on our journey.” 

The sandbender stopped and watched as the boy held his bow before her. Her smile grew, causing her to quickly lift the scarf over her face to conceal her grin. Soraya didn’t waste time before returning his bow. “Thank you. The honor is all mine.”

--

A.N. ch 1 was mostly set up but next chapter with have a lot more Zuko x Soraya interactions. This is my first time writing for Zuko so I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

[citrusandcyanide]

chat did they match each others freak

[citrusandcyanide]

Kirishima realizing his love for Yoshino—that he's scared to lose her 🥹 OH NAURRRRRRR

[citrusandcyanide]

✧✿✧ RAISE WA TANIN GA II E04 ✿ SOMEI YOSHINO ✧✿✧

Knowin' you, I bet you'd be able to act like my ideal guy, all right. But that sure as shit ain't gonna make me fall for you. "What do I need to do?" Not the kinda thing I'd expect to hear from a playboy like you. If the alternative is half-assing some normie act, then you oughta be the craziest bastard in the world instead!

[citrusandcyanide]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $60,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

الله يحفظك انشالله يارب ياالرزاق ياالولي

Please donate and share.

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2

[citrusandcyanide]

Ive never written for Zuko before but I’m back in an ATLA kick and I would love to see a fic with a sand bender OC introduced around book 2 in the desert episode. I lowkey started writing already but idk if there would be any interest if I were to post it👀 lmk please cause I’d be so excited to work on it if people would want to read it.

[citrusandcyanide]

MIND OVER MATTER, lip gallagher

chapter two of BORDERLINE. lip x bsf!reader (nickname: MK)

TAGS & WARNINGS → general shameless themes, smoking, swearing, karen's here and she's a bitch, lots of best friend moments <333

CHAPTER SUMMARY → the days get colder and lip remains stubborn. it's mostly due to his on again off again relationship with karen jackson, the girl who says she's pregnant with his baby. and, conveniently, the girl that hates your guts.

A/N → thank you so much for waiting on this one!!! took me a while to update because i just want every little detail to be perfect 🥹

WC → 1.7k

As autumn gave way to the icy cold of winter you found yourself staring out the window of your seventh period classroom. An old pair of wired earbuds connects both you and Lip to your school issued laptop, which the two of you were using to form your monthly shared playlist. It was a tradition you had started yourself at the beginning of this year, but Lip had wormed his way in as he seemed to do with everything else in your life, insisting he be allowed to add songs since he had to ride along with you everywhere. You’d told him it came with his lack of license, and he’d pestered you until you allowed him ten songs per playlist. 

Lip’s elbow digs into your ribs and pulls your focus away from the flurries starting to fall outside the window. “Skip this shit,” he mumbles, referencing the Taylor Swift song that just started.

You roll your eyes but skip it regardless, it didn’t fit in with your november lineup. Satisfied with the song that follows, you navigate away from the playlist, opening up your email. “I signed us up for a tour at UChi,” you say casually, eyes flicking over to gauge his reaction. He rolls his eyes and ignores you entirely, clearly annoyed with your choice. So this is still an uphill battle. Got it. “If you won’t go for yourself, at least come along for me? That way ‘m not alone.”

You watch Lip as he considers it, finally nodding his head after a moment of silence. The dismissal bell rings and your teacher gives some spiel about homework but neither of you care to listen. Like a well oiled system you return each other’s borrowed things–your pretty pack of highlighters Lip liked to use for annotation, the pencil he miraculously had when you forgot your own, the laptop which belongs to you and earbuds that belong to him–packing them up and practically racing each other out the door. You stumble through the back row as Lip dashes in front of you, pulling out a chair to leave in your path. It’s easy to laugh, easy to forget how much you’re having to push him to take his future seriously. 

By the time you catch up to him in the hall, there’s a little blonde nuisance at his side. She kisses him obnoxiously, which you think is a little much for the fact they aren’t even official. You’d never say it aloud but you’re not convinced her baby even belongs to him. Her school slut reputation hadn’t come from being a prude after all.  But of course you’re willing to play the part, to be the supportive best friend, because you knew the alternative; being painted as a jealous whore, for the simple act of looking out for your friend. Safe to say, Karen Jackson makes you seethe with rage. 

She doesn’t even offer a greeting, just looks you up and down with a disgusted glare. Lip says she doesn’t talk about you behind your back, but you think he’s just trying to save your feelings. You understand it can be hard to keep the peace between two girls who are equally important to him. Though, you wish he’d wake up from his lust induced haze to see she’s just using him. As always you play the part you’re meant to play. The best friend, ever supportive, standing quietly to the side as they have their moment. A moment that makes you sick to your stomach, but is theirs nonetheless. Not your place to intervene. 

You decide to wait in your car instead of dwelling on it.

Hours pass idly by before you’re in the Gallagher house for the night, too cold and tired to walk the twenty or so steps across the street to your own home. It wasn’t your fault Ian rolled a joint and passed it up when you were already dozing off in Lip’s bed.

When you stub out the joint, Lip tosses a pillow down to the foot of the bed. You can’t help but find it odd, the way you sleep head to foot to keep air between you as if you haven’t shared each other’s space for as long as you can remember. Lip was always wherever you were, and the same went for you. Inseparable for as long as you could remember. But then there came this… tension. The awkward energy] that came with growing up, getting crushes, going on dates. Suddenly it wasn’t normal to curl into your best friend’s side. Instead, he slept on an air mattress when he visited your house, and you occupied opposite ends of the bed at his. 

You’re not sure when the change came about. You find that you hate it. 

With nightfall comes snowfall, and when you wake from an uncomfortable strain in your back you see the soft, white flakes falling outside the window. You sit up, accidentally bumping your head in your excitement. The thud along with the pained groan from your chest wake Lip up, blue eyes blinking blearily up at you in the dim glow of the streetlight. 

“Fuck’re you doin’ MK?” he grumbles, swatting away your hand when it gently shakes his hip. “Go back t’sleep.”

“Look, ‘s snowing,” you murmur, awe painted in your tone as you lean down to turn his head towards the window. 

His next words are muffled by the pillow he shoves over his face, attempting to hide from you and your antics. “We live ‘n fuckin’ Chicago, it snows here. Not like its a miracle.”

“Come outside with me?” you ask simply. The pillow is pulled away from his face and Lip gives you a puzzled look, which you fight with a drawn out whisper of “pleeeeaseeee?”

Lip has never been able to say no to your pleading. Tonight is no exception. Within ten minutes the two of you are outside in your pajamas, fingers clad in fuzzy gloves and feet nestled into too-big snow boots. The snowfall is already slowing when Lip pulls one of his gloves off, struggling to light a cigarette against the icy wind. Without a word you step closer and shelter the light with your body until it catches the end of the cig. When he exhales you mimic the motion with frosted breath. 

Lip is still laughing at your antics when you grab his bicep, tugging his body to the ground with you. “Wha- what the fuck!?”

“Snow angels,” you reply simply, “come on, have a little whimsy, some childlike wonder.” The snow is cold against your back but you begin to move your arms and legs regardless. You tilt your head and are pleasantly surprised to see a boyish grin formed around the cig tucked neatly between his lips. He mimics your motion, arms and legs pushing snow aside until his elbows are brushing grass. 

He offers you the last drag or two from his cig, propping himself up with his elbows dug into the compressed snow where his back had been. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve made a snow angel since I was–shit–like, five or six?” He hauls himself up and uses his teeth to remove the remaining glove, his hands dipping down into the snow.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him, your teeth baring with a nervous smile as he steps closer, “Lip! Don’t you fucking-” it’s too late, there’s snow down the back of your crew neck sweatshirt. You shriek, jumping to your feet and packing a snowball of your own for revenge. It’s easy to laugh with him. To forget the troubles that plague your young hearts, subjects far too mature which were introduced at far too young of an age.

You end your little snow escapade on the steps. Lip brushes the gathering snow off the wood to give the two of you room to share a seat and a cigarette. The smoke warms your body and the comfortable silence warms your soul. You watch as he rubs his hands together, lifting them up to feel the little heat provided by the tendrils of smoke. 

When he passes it to you, you take a drag and exhale through your nose, taking both of his hands in your own. You want to scold him lightly, it’s not smart to go without gloves in the snow, but with two hands occupied you can’t exactly hold the cig anywhere other than your mouth. So you stay quiet, and so does he.

Minutes pass in familiar silence. You write your name in the snow at your feet, digging out the letters with the heel of your boot. Lip does the same with the cigarette butt when it’s finished, and you complain how unfair it is that his writing looks much neater compared to yours. He smooths out the snow over your name, rewriting ‘MK’ in the space. 

As you head inside you become aware of how wet your clothes are, the snow melting in the slightly warmer temperatures, though you notice it’s not much. Lip lends you some clothes of his and politely turns his back while you change. Not that you would’ve cared much, anyway. 

“Fuckin’ freezin’ in here Lip,” you mumble, shivering in your hoodie and borrowed boxers as you climb the ladder after him. 

He laughs in response, reaching out to tug you into the softness of his chest. “C’mere, snow miser,” he grumbles, referencing a childhood favorite movie the two of you would watch every Christmas. A smile graces your lips as you settle against his chest, his warmth more familiar than anything you’ve ever known.

Lip tells you quietly about how Frank blew his most recent disability check, leaving Fiona scrambling for the small but important number he often contributed to the heat bill. He rambles on about how each of his siblings were dealing with the cold–something about Carl convincing Debbie her frosted breath was a magical power–and you feel yourself drifting off to the gentle sound of his voice.

In the morning the sun peeks through the worn curtains of the boys’ room. Gentle rays attempt to tug you from the comfortable embrace, but your unconscious mind only snuggles further into Lip’s chest. Carl is the first to take notice of this, snickering and elbowing a distracted Ian in the ribs as he pulls on warmer clothes. The older boy eyes the two of you and grabs Lip’s phone from his desk to snap a quick picture before ushering his younger brother out of the room. 

And when Fiona heads out to head to work, there are still two names written in the snow. With careful footing, she allows them to stay.

THX 4 READING → dedicated to my lovely @notsonian. beta'd by @tinyphantomsalad.

[citrusandcyanide]

The pain is the worst when I open up my favorite tags and there has been no new fics. Please I’m begging

[citrusandcyanide]

book 3 in a nutshell tbh

[citrusandcyanide]

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!! there will be a series masterlist at some point. not today tho! anyways. 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.”

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