#its bc we both slouch

[peachesofteal]

Simon praising Darling for being a good girl when she announces she’s pregnant 😮‍💨 like I’m sorry sir, who gave you the right to be so damn hot when you’re FICTIONAL?!

And Darling is just confused af about wtf he means. Like does she ever find out they fucked with her BC and knocked her up?? I must know, I must have more 😈🤭

He's like, 'you've done so well, darling' and she's like 'wait, what the fuck just happened?'

AU - not canon for Dead Disco Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief mention of smut, mature themes. Angst. Vomiting. Doctors. Pregnant reader. Relationship issues. Dark themes.

"I've got ya." Johnny coos while he rubs your back where you are kneeling over the toilet, breakfast and bile coming up your throat with every other heave.

"I hate this." you moan between pants, propping your arm up to rest your head. He clucks his tongue, standing to run a cloth under the sink and returning to press it to your forehead gently. It's cold, and soft, and moving in easy circles.

"I know, darling. I know." You push away, slumping into his arms, letting him cuddle you close while he leans back against the bathroom wall and you count his heartbeats from where your head lays on his chest.

The door creaks open, and Simon's halfway inside, peering down at the two of you, mild concern in his eyes while he studies your slouching form.

"Third time today." He notes with a frown, and you nod. They count, keep track of everything, so they can recall it for your doctor's visits and make sure everything is still within 'normal' range. Morning sickness, your doctor has assured them too many times to count, is very normal.

"Morning sickness, the nausea, vomiting, is all normal."

"She's sick multiple times a day." Simon grits out. Johnny shifts his weight nervously, while you sigh and pat his hand comfortingly.

"If we were seeing drastic weight loss, or the panels were coming back outside of normal range, I would be concerned. But that's not happening. So, you've nothing to worry about." You give her a relieved smile, and hope they'll actually listen this time, although you know it's kind of pointless. "So," she claps her hands, and then motions to the table, and Johnny visibly brightens. This is everyone's favorite part, the ultrasound. You always glue your eyes to the screen, holding you breath to see the baby, the little blob in black and grey, your own little bean. You're obsessed with the sound of the heartbeat, taking comfort in its strength, its steadiness. So much so you bought a fetal doppler, just so you could all hear it at home. "Should we take a peek?"

"I'm fine." you assure him, holding a hand out. "Help me up." He grips you by your elbow, pulling you to your feet and into him briefly, so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair with a deep breath. "Now get out, I'm gross. Need to wash my face." You insist, pushing both him and Johnny into the hallway playfully before closing the door.

You have a lot of drawers, in this bathroom. Almost all of them actually, and most of them are a bit of a mess, unorganized, things strewn about. Sometimes, like now, you have to dig around for things. You're looking for something specific, a heavier moisturizer, one that can combat some of the dryness around your nose. Your fingers flip through tubes and tubs and creams, old mascara and half busted hair clips. You tsk, irritated that you're having a hard time finding the blue jar, until-

Your fingers brush against your old birth control pack. Encased in a cream colored piece of plastic, little pills lined up in a row. Just the sight of it frustrates you. After so many years, it finally failed. Finally let you down.

You don't know, but you pull it out. Maybe to look at it closer, to see if it will be expired by the time you finally need it again, or maybe, just to look at the thing that was your one constant since you were practically a child.

Either way. You study it closer, and that's how you notice the corner of the pill tray. The little foil piece on the corner is lifted, just a smidge, just enough for you not to notice, but when you peel it, it comes away so easily, so perfectly, with minimal adhesive. Like's it been pulled away before and put back in place. Like it's been moved.

When you realize, the floor room spins. It shudders around you, bathroom walls curving closer and closer to where you stand in front of the sink, eyes wide, dumbfounded. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. Would they? You blink at yourself in the mirror. You look, tired, but mostly healthy, a true testament to absolute hovering that has been occurring in your life over the past five months. You never lift a finger, you don't want for anything.

Because you're pregnant.

Because you're pregnant, with their baby, that you thought you got knocked up with on accident.

Your stomach curdles. They did this on purpose. Your fingers clench against the stone of the sink while you remember, all those nights when they pressed you to the mattress and made you see stars, while they filled you with their come over and over, every day. They were actively trying. They wanted this. A giant black hole rips open inside of you. It sucks your joy, your happiness, your dreams of future into it immediately. It dismantles everything you thought you knew as truth, takes a hammer and smashes apart every single second of the last five months.

They took your choice away. You stomach flips, and the you’re flinging yourself back in front of the toilet, bile spewing on your lips while you dry heave. It burns, the sting matching the sear of the tears that track down your face.

How could they do this?

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: trade? what trade? brady’s a cane, always will be 😭 seriously tho, odds are pretty good that i just keep writing him as a cane bc i have no interest in having to learn the preds beyond beau and josi 🤷🏼‍♀️ had this written for a bit but never posted it bc i was yelled at during the playoffs for even thinking about the canes 🙄

tw: stomach flu, mentions of vomiting, mentions of dizziness

word count: 3.4k

summary: norovirus makes its way around the canes’ locker room and it finally takes you and brady down

Brady’s fingers are cool as they card through your hair, brushing gently against your temple and scratching lightly at your scalp. Your cheek is pressed against his thigh, smushed up so it interferes with your vision - not that you’re really focused on the TV. Comedy Central has a repeat of The Office on and above you, Brady chuckles faintly as Dwight complains about identity theft.

You roll your eyes back to cut your gaze at him and Brady’s head is resting against the back of the couch, his eyes partially shut. He’s mostly just listening to the TV.

Norovirus had swept through the Canes’ locker room, taking the players and their families out one by one - starting with Burnzie, which had led Jarvy to conclude that one of the Burns’ children had brought it home from school. As one player recovered, another was taken out. Last week had been Brett and Jordan, this week it’s yours and Brady’s turn to be down for the count. He’d come home from morning skate two days ago looking paler than usual, a greenish-grey tinge to his skin. You’d already dry heaved over breakfast that morning, thinking it was pre-period nausea.

Less than an hour later, you’d each retreated to separate bathrooms and hadn’t emerged until there was nothing left to purge. Brady had managed to text Rod, who was entirely unsurprised by the turn of events.

The next day and a half had been a blur of Instacarted Gatorade and crackers, the smell of Clorox and Lysol a permanent fixture in the house. Unfortunately, the smell of Clorox only triggered your gag reflex even more. Only this morning you’d managed to keep down more than a few spoonfuls of chicken broth.

Your stomach cramps a little and you curl your body into a tighter fetal position, turning your head to muffle your groan against Brady’s thigh. His fingers pause in your hair and he asks, “you okay, sweetheart? Need the bowl?”

“The bowl” is your combo popcorn/salad/vomit stainless steel bowl and it’s resting on the couch next to Brady, easily within arm’s reach just in case. The bowl has seen a lot of action the last two days and honestly, you’re contemplating tossing it out at the end of this. Or burning it, if stainless steel even burns. Hell, you’ll just throw it into the ocean at this point. You never want to see the bowl again.

“No,” you mumble against the fabric of his shorts, voice raspy and throat sore. “I think my stomach is eating itself.”

Brady nods his agreement and you can hear his stomach growl slightly behind your head. “Think we can manage more soup?” His fingers continue their work in your hair and it’s so soothing you find your eyelids fluttering, fighting to stay open.

“Honestly?” You nuzzle your face against his leg, tucking one hand under your cheek and the other underneath Brady’s thick thigh. “No, but you should try. You don’t want to be too weak when you get back to practicing.”

He hums and his fingers slow down, tangling gently in your hair. “Maybe ‘fter a nap,” he mumbles, head going back against the couch and body slouching a little deeper into the cushions. You can’t really argue with him - like clockwork, you’d both been with your heads in the toilet every thirty minutes. You don’t remember what a good night’s sleep feels like.

Brady falls asleep quickly, his hand covering the side of your head like a mask. The dogs pad into the den, semi left to their own devices the last two days and you feel bad about it. Reese settles on top of Brady’s feet, curling into a little ball and letting his tail swish along the floor while he looks up at you with big brown puppy eyes that bear a striking resemblance to your boyfriend’s.

“Sorry, pup,” you murmur, reaching out to scratch his head. “We’ve been bad pet parents, huh?”

He lets out a little whine that you take to be golden retriever for ‘yeah, mom, you guys suck lately.’

Sully hops up on the couch and wedges his body between your back and the back of the couch, a warm, solid presence. His nose presses against your shoulder and you wiggle forward a little to make more room for the big dog. Neither of them are supposed to be on the furniture, but you have no energy to shove him off.

“Just for today,” you warn him in a rasp. “Back to the floor with you tomorrow.”

Sully yawns, tongue lolling out of his mouth, showing just how much he cares about your proclamation.

With a soft scoff of your breath, you roll your eyes and keep them shut, pressing your face more solidly against Brady’s thigh. The muscle twitches under your cheek and you blink slowly. Soon enough, the combination of the low volume of the TV, Brady’s gentle snores, and the dogs’ soft breathing lulls you to sleep.

You wake with a jolt, your mouth filling with saliva and your stomach lurching. Sully’s draped over your legs and you don’t think, panic flooding your senses. Clamping your lips together tightly, you lunge over Brady’s lap and grab for the bowl, heaving into it. You empty the minimal contents of your stomach into the bowl, feeling Brady’s legs move under your torso. His hand fists in your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail so it stays out of your way.

“Okay, there you go,” Brady’s voice is low and soothing, his other hand rubbing circles on your back as you spit into the bowl. After a moment, nothing is coming up anymore and you groan, easing back carefully onto your knees.

Brady squints at you. “You okay?”

“I love your teammates,” you groan. “But I could kill every single one of them.”

Your boyfriend laughs and then winces when his stomach muscles tense. “Fuck, this shit really is no joke,” he mutters, stretching his arms over his head.

Your mouth tastes disgusting and your entire body hurts from heaving. On shaky legs, you carefully step off the couch, snatching the bowl and padding slowly into the bathroom to get clean it out. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror over the sink and wince. Dark purple circles under your eyes highlight just how pale you look. Little red pinpricks of broken blood vessels are scattered over your cheeks like freckles and your hair is a matted, knotted mess in a limp bun on the side of your head.

“Ugh,” you mutter to your reflection, honestly surprised that you look so awful. You’d been avoiding mirrors as much as possible. You rinse out the bowl and douse it with Clorox, leaving it in the bathtub for now, before rinsing your mouth twice with Listerine and brushing your hair back into a semi-decent ponytail. This bathroom’s going to need a major disinfecting too.

Add it to the list.

Brady’s in the kitchen when you leave the bathroom, his body hidden behind the open fridge door. Both dogs are at his feet, circling his legs like he’s about to drop some food for them. He pulls back and shuts the door, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head and a wan look on his face.

“Nothing looks appetizing,” he explains, leaning a shoulder against the fridge.

You slump over the kitchen island, one arm folded between the granite and your chest. Reese lopes over to you, brushing his head against your thigh and you reach down to scratch behind his ears. “What, blue Gatorade and saltines lose their appeal on the third day?” You joke, tucking your chin into the stretched out neck of your ancient crewneck.

Brady’s lips twist up in a small smile. “I would kill for the ability to keep something else down,” he scrubs a hand over his face, dragging his skin down on the second pass.

“We could try the golden diet,” your head feels so heavy, so you prop your chin up on your palm and look over at Brady. He lifts an eyebrow and you continue, “plain boiled chicken breast and rice.”

Both dogs bark, excited, and you wince at the noise and how it feels like an ice pick in your brain.

“I’d rather not feel like one of the dogs,” Brady laughs faintly. Almost immediately, he clamps his lips together and freezes in place, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. He doesn’t make a move for the bathroom and you wait another moment before it passes and he frowns. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “thought I might have to make a run for it.”

“I could try and make some more soup,” you suggest, your stomach rumbling a little. You honestly have no idea if you’re actually hungry or if you’re going to have to run off again. Reese butts your thigh with his head and you sigh down at him. “I feel bad that these guys haven’t been getting as much outside time.”

“How do you feel about a short w-a-l-k?” Brady spells out the word because the dogs will go insane otherwise and it always makes you giggle a little.

You hum and skirt around the island so you can wrap your arms around Brady’s waist and bury your face into his chest. His arms come around your back, warm and strong. “Not great,” you mumble into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “But maybe some fresh air and sun will do us some good?”

He nods, chin bumping the top of your head. “A short one, like two blocks,” he suggests. “And then right back to the couch.”

Agreeing, you give Brady a little squeeze around the waist before reluctantly pulling away. You clap and grin down at the dogs, “okay, puppies, time for a little walk!”

Predictably, they go nuts, barking and jumping at you so that Brady holds his arms out to brace his hands at your lower back so you don’t fall over. He laughs a little in your ear before whistling to get the dogs to calm down. They stop barking, but they’re still bouncing around your legs and you laugh as you push past them, heading for the hall closet. It’s warm enough in Raleigh that you don’t have to change out of the thin sweats and crewneck, but you do pull on a plain black vest just so you have a pocket for your phone.

Brady clips the leashes onto both dogs’ collars and steps into a pair of slides, holding the leashes out to you so he can lock the front door. You let the dogs have some leeway with the leashes, watching them as they roll around together on the front lawn. It’s bright and sunny and you squint even behind your sunglasses.

“Has it been this bright out all week?” Brady asks, taking a leash in one hand and lacing his fingers with yours. He still has the hood up on his hoodie and when you look up at him, all you can see is the side profile of his nose and chin. His nose wrinkles up and you can’t help but mimic the expression.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you sigh, starting to walk down to the sidewalk. You feel like a baby deer, all wobbly legged and weak, but the breeze is nice and you have to admit that it feels good to not be breathing in Lysol scented air.

The dogs tug at their leashes and you give them more leeway, walking slowly down the sidewalk. Brady’s thumb rubs over the backs of your fingers, your linked hands swinging slightly between your bodies as you walk. It’s quiet in the neighborhood since it’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday and you savor the peace.

Your stomach cramps a little and you lean into Brady’s side as you walk, huffing a frustrated breath through your nose. “When I get my hands on Jagger…” you trail off the threat, ruining the effect with a little laugh. You’re on board with Jarvy’s theory about patient zero for the Great Norovirus Crisis.

Brady’s laugh wraps around you like a hug and trails off into a brief cough as he catches his breath. “You and Svechy, beefing with a middle schooler,” he shakes his head, sounding a little breathless.

“For valid reasons,” you grumble, stumbling a little when Reese pulls on his leash. Brady’s fingers tighten around yours and you manage to keep your footing, but your heart pounds in your chest and you suck in a startled breath. Your head spins a little and you close your eyes to stave off the lingering nausea from your stomach lurching.

Brady’s hand is warm in your own and he squeezes your fingers to draw your attention. “Ready to go back home?” He asks, a concerned frown turning his lips downward. You nod and Brady whistles for the dogs.

It’s been the world’s shortest walk, just two blocks away from the house, but your head is throbbing and you’re feeling lightheaded. Brady still looks pale too, his jaw tight as if he’s trying not to vomit. He rubs the tips of his index and middle fingers against the space between his eyebrows and you know he’s probably developing the same headache you’ve got pinching your brain.

“I think we pushed it enough for today,” you murmur, tugging on the leash so Reese will come back from where he’s sniffing at a patch of flowers at the base of a tree.

Brady nods and he looks a little better after his pause. He leans in and kisses your forehead, where you can feel his lips turn down in another frown. “You feel kind of warm, sweetheart,” he says.

You tug at the neck of your sweatshirt and shrug. “Probably just a little overheated,” you start back towards the house. “I’m going to put shorts on when we get back, I think.” Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out, reading the texts on the screen as Brady talks.

“I think we need some lunch too,” Brady says, digging his phone out of the pocket on his hoodie. “I’ll order something. Even if we can’t manage all of it, we probably need something with protein.”

“No need,” you laugh a little, waving your phone in his direction. “Amy felt bad we caught the plague from Brett, she dropped off chicken noodle soup and fresh sourdough.”

Brady grins and pumps his fist, making you laugh even more. “Oh hell yes. I think I’ll be able to manage that,” he unclips the leashes from the dogs’ collars and lets them into your backyard, closing the gate behind them before following you up to the front porch. You cradle the giant brown paper bag in your arms like a baby.

“It’s still warm,” you sigh happily, wiggling your shoulders a little. “I love Amy, god, she’s the best.”

You kick off your slides and head into the kitchen, getting lunch ready while Brady pulls open the back door so the dogs can traipse in and out of the house. They’re both barking up a storm while they roll around on the lawn, so you figure you might actually have a minute to eat in peace. Brady reaches around you to pick a piece of the crust off the loaf of bread, popping it into his mouth with a happy little noise. You laugh a little under your breath at how adorable he is and finish divvying up the soup into bowls.

“Bigger bowl is yours,” you tilt your head and Brady sets a glass of ginger ale in front of you, tugging lightly on the end of your ponytail as he withdraws his hand. You lean lightly back against his chest, bumping your head against his collarbone and Brady dips his chin to kiss your forehead.

“Still a little warm,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shrug, “I’ll take another Tylenol and sleep in the guest room, just in case.”

Brady snorts and drapes one arm over your shoulder to hold you in place since you’re leaning heavily into him. “Sweetheart, if you’ve got a fever, I’ve probably got a fever. The house is germ central,” he rips a piece of bread off the loaf with his other hand and tosses it into his mouth. Around the mouthful, he continues, “no use in separating now.”

You’re not about to argue with him because you’re feeling clingy and needy, desperate for the comfort of Brady at your side while you’re recovering. So you nod and reluctantly let him step to the side to eat.

Amy’s soup is probably magic because you both manage to polish off your bowls, with Brady going back for seconds, and a few hours later, nothing threatens to reappear.

You and Brady spend the rest of the afternoon lazing around, disinfecting the house, and just generally relaxing in preparation for return to normal. You’re planning on working remotely, easing back into your inbox after three days away. Brady will see how he’s feeling, if he’ll go to practice. But for now, Brady sits on the floor, his back against the couch, and tosses tennis balls for the dogs to chase after and fetch.

“Please don’t hit the glass,” you sigh, sprawled out on your side on the couch, one hand propped up under your head and the other working its way through Brady’s hair, a mirror of Brady’s actions earlier in the day. The salt and peppered strands are soft under your fingers and you can’t resist tugging gently, just to get a reaction out of your boyfriend.

He groans low in the back of his throat, the noise sending a little wave of heat through your body. “I was a quarterback, sweetheart,” Brady grumbles, affectionate teasing laced throughout his tone. “I never miss my target.”

Sully comes bounding back with the tennis ball clamped in his jaw and Brady wrestles it away from the dog with a laugh, sending the tennis ball flying through the air and out through the open French doors. You can see it land with a little bounce in the grass before Sully pounces on it. Reese jumps on his brother and they roll around in the grass for a bit.

“Cocky, former quarterback Brady is my favorite version of you,” you tease, scratching your nails against his scalp.

He laughs and reaches back to rub a hand over the top of your head. You curl up a little, bringing your knees closer to your chest and Brady’s head by default. He shifts, turning to the side so he can look at you and wedge his hand in between your knees, fingers curling around the back of your thigh. Your hand falls from his hair, coming down to rest on his shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the collar of his shirt to brush against warm skin.

Brady’s head tilts to the side, cheek coming to rest on the edge of the couch cushion, trapping your hand. You flutter your fingers against his collarbone, smiling softly. His lips curl up too, lifting his cheeks and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Whatcha thinking, Mr. Skjei?” You ask quietly. “I can see your gears turning.”

“Nothing really,” he replies, tickling the back of your knee lightly. You squirm and press your knees together, squishing his fingers to try and get him to stop. “Just…been nice to relax with you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, a skeptical smirk on your lips. “Norovirus was relaxing?”

“Well,” he snorts a laugh through his nose, “the last few hours were relaxing anyway.” He presses a kiss against the back of your wrist and brushes his nose against your skin.

A little shiver races down your spine, warm love for Brady flooding your entire body. He keeps his cheek pressed to the back of your hand and taps the back of your knee. “Think I can rejoin you in bed tonight?” He asks, breath warm against your skin.

“I’d really like that,” you grin, having missed his body curled around yours. Decamping to separate bedrooms had been a protective measure over the last few days since every time you heard Brady gag, you’d gone and puked.

The dogs traipse back inside and Brady shifts so he can stand and close the door, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth as he goes. Tomorrow the routine will go back to normal, but when Brady comes back and lifts your legs to sit on the couch next to you, your legs draped over his lap and your ass pressed against the outside of his thigh, you soak up the quiet moment in your little bubble.

[lix-ables]

How about Han Jisung with a corruption (inexperienced reader or maybe reader who looks “innocent” so to say) kink?

the urge to write for skz + corruption is so so real rn BUT OH im in my jisung feels and also promoting perv!jisung

from the moment jisung had those thoughts about you, more specifically thoughts about how pretty you'd look with your fingers wrapped around his dick, your eyes watching the way his lips moved as he guided you between grunts and moans - thoughts which haunted him almost everyday at the studio when he tried finishing up a song. he had to admit, he almost got caught jerking off to a cute selfie you sent him a few days ago, when chan's voice shook his body from slouching to straight and close to the table to hide his boner.

but when he called you over to the studio and you unknowingly without a doubt sat on his lap to listen to the song he was currently working on, jisung groaned. with pleasure. "is everything okay?" you mumble, turning around a little while his hands come to wrap around your waist. "yep, perfectly fine. just... try not to move too much yeah?" jisung rests his chin on your shoulder, but the moment you shift back against him, your ass rubbing against his crotch, his fingers move to wrap around your arm. "i don't know if you're doing it on purpose, angel, but you really need to stop with the teasing 'kay?" jisung strains, and you notice that his voice got a bit huskier. "im not doing anything though," you protest, this time your body shifts even more, because when you turn around to face him, jisung shut his eyes, his lips slightly apart and both his hands were around your wrist. "tell me you don't feel that," his voice ragged and uneven as jisung moves from under you, his hips thrusting into yours once before turning you to face away from him. his grip on your body tightened, before continuing, "tell me you don't feel my dick rubbing against you, and tell that you're not fucking wet right now." "i d-don't know," you squirm against him once more, only for jisung to thrust into you again, and at that moment, he wished you didnt have you shorts on. he wished he could fuck you right there, and he wished you knew how crazy you made him. he wished you knew about the times he found his fingers making their way to his cock, teasing himself thinking about your innocent face. "fuck, there's so much i want to show you, darling," jisung clears his throat before tapping your leg to let you get off him. "how about dinner?"

note. EEEEEE @telesvng @comet-falls its the way we spoke about jisung and now im sigh. suffer w me, bc i love you

[dayurno]

thank u for sharing the hcs….. so silly….. i need to watch fast and furious and think about renee for the vibes now bc ive also never seen it. some of mine that come to mind right now are:

i also think Kevin hates the gym! especially cardio. it’s important and it helps his Exy performance so he’ll never complain but GOD does he hate it :) and in terms of speed he’s just Average and it kind of haunts him. and then also for kevin i think he’s really kind of scared of dogs. all of them. he’s never been around them so he won’t say it but he’s very apprehensive around them

in general i think jeremy is emotional, but specifically, he gets really annoying about it. like if he’s overtired? he’s so cranky. god forbid if he gets too hungry, he’s HANGRY and is just kind of awful to deal with until he eats something. has to eat every few hours, otherwise he might literally cry about it

i think jean really just likes Touching things with his hands. making and feeling and knowing his hands can create things instead of break them or only play exy. i know it’s a popular hc that he likes art but it really makes me :) +++ i think he has an awful habit of slouching, trying to make himself smaller, so renee and kevin and jeremy and eventually all the Trojans are on his ass about it. telling him to stand up straight and thumping him on the chest to be upright. yeahg

THIS IS VERY CUTE i love kevin being scared of dogs i really can see it! i have a similar hc but i do have a reason for it i think kevin is afraid of dogs because one bit him when he was a kid and it wasn’t even like a Perforating Wound but it became a core memory for him… i think he gets better about this eventually but to me he has an ingrown sense to hide behind the nearest person at the sound of a dog barking. also re: speed nora said it herself that kevin doesnt actually like running either HAHA i think he’s the bravest girl in the whole world for taking a career that has him running every single day

AH JEAN SLOUCHING canonest of canons i think kevin would be such a bitch about jean’s posture both sitting and standing up!!! i can see him poking jean on the back to adjust his shrimp-like complexion Now and honestly its lowkey psychosexual that jean fixes it immediately. pavlov’ed. clicker trained. artist jean is cute! im always a little torn trying to imagine his art style because i think he would probably be making those traumacore bpd hello kitty drawings 🥹😭 but who knows i love thinking about jean drawing at all. do you think he ever does portraits? how many of renee does he have. like five thousand

i love jeremy hcs when they’re funny 🖐️ to me lately ive been thinking about jeremy being a horror movie bro because in 2006 there were only so many things you could be into and i think its funny to imagine in a kerejean sense. jeremy (deranged) watching the nastiest most ridiculous low production found footage movie at the breakfast table and kevjean sitting there like can we move this to a later hour. would not like to hear about a man grilling someone else’s testes while eating breakfast

[rein-ette]

leftover fraport thoughts

just a 1AM dump of fraport ideas leftover from the rather deep hole i spiralled into after writing that last fic, that I'm too tired to develop rn but had to put somewhere:

i always write them having moody conversations, usually about arthur, and its been difficult for me to find ways that francis and gabriel can truly connect as themselves rather than through arthur as a sort of shared medium

having said that -- BONDING THROUGH MELODRAMATIC KARAOKE. Cooking together for no one except them bc someone dropped out of dinner plans, bickering about how to dice the fuckin peppers, and then francis is like lets put on some music and 10 minutes later theyre unironically singing the saddest love songs they can find as they wait for the pork to brown -- need i say more.

i just think they would both really love a more mature, hard-hitting ballad with beautiful, soaring, or heart-wrenching vocals

its hard to give examples bc the examples i have in mind are all Not In English -- BUT if youve ever heard that dude on portuguese the voice singing Adele's When We Were Young? -- that's it. [if u havent heard it forget ab this post just go bless ur ears]

I think Adele's All I Ask would also be a great pick -- and theres just something about the idea of them singing in english, by a british artist, that is so *chefs kiss

ofc having said that i think most of the songs they would both know would be in french, although i think francis could also surprise gabriel with a few bangers in Portuguese

gabe is def the better singer but francis is no slouch -- i think their voices would compliment each other really well: Gabriel: more rounded, quietly tender, mournful but controlled; Francis: more *drama*, master of the sudden breathy falsetto to powerful real voice transition

carrots or wine bottles as mics only

then they eat their ten course meal bc these two will never cook a little when they can cook a lot (and yet when they are alone they will just subsist on coffee/dairy products eaten straight from the fridge)

speaking of coffee -- francis (silently, bc if veneziano knew he would cry) thinks gabriel makes the best coffee in europe -- not that you can get the best coffee in portugal, the country, but that Gabriel, the person, makes a mean fuckin latte

hes a little bit jealous that arthur has been drinking it for 500 years and doesnt even think that much of it bc he prefers tea

i've gotten off topic

after they have dinner francis says he has some work to finish so he sees Gabe out to the curb

cheek kisses

francis texts arthur as he goes back up "i can see why you are so smitten with him"

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean"

gabriel also calls arthur as hes walking back to his hotel and arthur asks him what the hell they did together (to make francis say that) but gabriel is oblivious like we just cooked and ate, literally nothing, he said he had some work so I left

arthur (suspicious): ok

port (thoughtful): "although...i wouldnt have minded staying tonight, i guess"

*arthur hangs up on him in utter shock and betrayal

OKAY THATS ALL BYEEE

[vadergf]

George is tired I hope his pillow is cold and his blanket is warm and he gets 10 hours of great sleep and all his body pain stops immediately

[neganmct]

reader always pronouncing eddie’s last name as moon-son but he doesn’t correct them bc he thinks it’s kinda cute

I LOVE THIS ITS GETTING A SHORT PIECE also you didn't mention the gender so I'm just gonna put not specified

Moonson Munson - Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Teen and up One shot, fluff, mild comedy

Word count: 1145

The first time you learned about Eddie's surname you were confused. You squinted your eyes as you looked at one of Eddie's notebooks. "M-Moon... Moonson? Huh" you mumbled, brushing your finger over the written name. Eddie paused mid locker search and turned his head, raising a brow. A small smile sneaked up on to his lips and he turned back to his locker. "Fuck, did I... I left that shit at home" his arms dropped to his sides as he stared at his dishevelled locker. "Your surname is Moonson?" you questioned. Eddie turned his head, looking at you and smiled. He just shrugged.

Soon you began to use it often. Mimicking how he would occasionally say your own surname. You leaned over to his desk, fingers tapping lightly at your book. "Pen?" you whispered. Eddie was mildly distracted, drawing a little bat on the back of his hand. He had his tongue pressed to the top of his lip as he was in deep concentration. "Moonson!" you hissed quietly. Eddie jumped and turned his head, looking at you in confusion. "H-Huh?" You pointed towards the pen. "Oh, sure" Eddie picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took it and turned back to your paper. Gareth stared at Eddie and mouthed "Moonson?" to which Eddie shrugged. "It's nice" he whispered.

Not once were you corrected. Eddie leaned his chin on his arms as he stared at you, watching you joke with Dustin over something he didn't quite hear. Dustin's head turned as he looked out at the open door. "Oh, she's here!" his shoulders slouched. Eddie's brown eyes trailed over your features as your face fell. "Well, until next time?" you smiled. Dustin nodded and tugged his backpack over his shoulders. "Yeah, for sure!" he waved as he stepped out of the door. Eddie pushed himself up from the table and rubbed his rear. "That chair gets way too uncomfortable" he grumbled, glancing down at the throne.

You turned, fiddling with the chains on the leather sleeve. It was Eddie's of course. You had stolen it after the unexpected rainfall. You returned to the clubroom soaked and it left Eddie giggling as he took off his jacket. "Looks like its just me and you, Moonson" you grinned at him. Oh, did Eddie's heart soar as you did; that smile brightened up his world much more than you realised. He walked over and opened his arms. You stepped forward and stumbled as you fell into them. Laughter sounded between the two of you as Eddie pulled you close to him, leaning his head close to brush his lips over yours. Your arms slipped around his back holding him close to you. "Guess we better finish cleaning, huh?" you asked, quietly. "In a bit, sweetheart" Eddie leaned his forehead against yours. "I'm enjoying myself right now"

Others began to notice the mispronunciation of Munson. "And you haven't corrected...?" Chrissy held her drink in both hands, looking up at Eddie in confusion. "Well no" Eddie sat himself down in the opposite booth seat. "It's kinda cute" he leaned forward, tugging off the iconic leather jacket. "Moonson, I sound like a child of the night" he stretched his arms above his head. "Maybe that's what you are to them" Chrissy nudged the straw. "A moon child!" she giggled. "You two are cute together" she leaned on her elbows, resting her cheeks in her palms. Eddie didn't respond as he had fallen into his own little world. He was thinking of the way your laugh sounded, how you pronounced Munson and the way you played with your sleeves or nudged a stray plectrum. The little things were captivating to him. "-die? Eddie!" he was broken out of his trance by Chrissy. "Food is here" she leaned back in her seat as the waitress set the plates down. Eddie's cheeks were a light pink. "I was thinking of... you know" he tugged a strand of hair as he stared at his food. "I know, its cute" Chrissy giggled.

Eddie made sure no one corrected you! He wouldn't let them. Shooting them a glare here and there if they even attempted to correct you. If life were a comic book they'd be able to see the question mark above your head whenever your friends would trail off then change the subject rather abruptly. Eddie let out a loud grunt as he fell backwards into the grass, Dustin and Mike falling on top of him. The metal head squirmed underneath the two. "Attack! I'm being attacked!" he screeched. Mike pinned his arms to the ground and Dustin straddled his waist, pinching and tickling at Eddie ribs. "My love!" Eddie yanked an arm free and reached out to you. "Save me!" he cried out dramatically. You flipped the page of the Heavy Metal comic book you had borrowed from Eddie. "Suffer, Moonson" you responded, coldly. Dustin pulled away and looked at you. He smiled and called out your name. "That's not-" he was unable to finish as Eddie knocked him off and pinned him into the grass. Dustin screeched with laughter as the Hellfire leader began to tickle his sides. "Shut up, Henderson!" he hissed.

Of course one day someone was going to say it correctly. Eddie had his arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders. His other rested on his thigh as he held a cigarette between his fingers. The warm summer air brushed over you. Finally you and him and your friend Steve. Steve cursed under his breath as he fiddled with the radio. "So exactly what happened to this?" he questioned, looking over at the numerous dents and a loose button. "I was making out with Eddie and then Dustin burst in so logically.." you turned your head towards Eddie. Eddie sighed, bringing the cancerous stick up to his lips. "I might've thrown it at the nearest wall" he mumbled. "Jesus, do you guys ever get alone time?" Steve questioned. "Well, clearly not, Steve!" Eddie blew smoke in his direction. "My apologies, Munson! I'll be sure next time to never invite anyone out with me again!" Steve threw an empty Pringle's tube at Eddie. You sat up and looked at Steve then Eddie. "Wait, wait, it's pronounced Mun-son?!" you asked. "Yeah, how have you been saying it?" Steve asked, nudging the loose button back into place. "Moon-son!" you replied. You turned to look at Eddie and glared at him. "Why didn't you correct me?! I've been saying Moonson for weeks!" you lightly slapped the back of your hand against his chest. Eddie chuckled and tapped the cigarette above an ashtray. "I find it cute" he looked at you with a grin. "I like hearing you say it, makes me feel special" he pecked the corner of your lips. Your glare didn't break. "I've been saying it wrong for weeks!"

[rubysunnday]

dark days

Request by @peoniarose . Hi! I just saw your request celebration! Congratulations! You are an amazing writer! I especially love your Shadow and Bone stories. The Kaz one made me tear up 😭. For a request I was wondering if you could do prompt 3 for Kaz. Maybe a romantic pairing. If not platonic is fine! Once again congratulations 🎊🍾🎉🎈!!

A/N: I don't know how I feel about Kaz's characterisation in this... but I like this story a lot so oh, and thank you @intrxpide13 bc i totally borrowed jesper and wylan's daughter from you but you love me so Elizabeth its fine. Also, I desperately need to make some more Kaz gifs for my stories 😂

Summary: Mr and Mrs Rietveld, a locked vault and approximately ten minutes of air left. What could possibly go wrong?

"I'm slightly concerned for my life."

"I have fourteen knives on me, yet I can't help but agree."

"I could knock them both out?"

"Or I could poison their drinks so they're out for a good few days."

"You're all horrible."

Four sets of eyes turned to look at Matthias.

"Do you want to go and tell them to quit it, then?" Jesper asked, nodding over to the bar.

Matthias shrunk back into his seat. "Nope."

Inej looked over at the bar again. "One of them is going to kill the other before the evening is over."

"My bet is on Y/N," Wylan said, leaning around Jesper to grab the bottle of alcohol. "She looks murderous."

"So does Kaz," Nina reminded.

"Nah, Kaz always looks like that," Wylan corrected. "Y/N, however, does not."

"Shit, they're coming," Jesper hissed, slouching back down in his seat.

Silence fell over the table as a murderous looking Kaz and an even more murderous looking Y/N rejoined their group. Y/N pointedly moved away from Kaz, taking Matthias offered hand as she clambered over him to sit in between him and Nina.

Kaz glared at her as he sat down in the chair at the centre of the table, his cane still in his hands. "So, despite some retaliation from certain people," a pointed glare was sent at Y/N but she ignored it, "we're going ahead with the job tomorrow night."

Y/N scoffed but kept quiet.

"Hang on, I thought we'd decided not to do the heist since it was too risky?" Inej asked, frowning.

"We did. Which is why, only two of us will be going into the bank. The rest of us will wait outside and cause a distraction should anything go wrong," Kaz explained.

There was an uneasy silence at the table. Y/N kept her eyes lowered, not wanting to say anything. She knew the plan was stupid. Jesper knew, Wylan knew, Matthias knew - everyone except Kaz knew.

And all because it was related to Pekka Rollins. It was Pekka Rollins they were stealing from - it was Rollins' collection they were taking from.

For no reason other than because they could.

Y/N found herself speaking before she even realised it. "And because it's so risky, Kaz and I will be going in."

Six pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. All had a mix of emotions ranging from concern to murder. The latter belonging to Kaz.

"No offence, Y/N, Kaz," Jesper said, leaning forward. "But how exactly are you getting inside the bank and then to the 'vault' we've got?"

Kaz knew he was going to regret this decision.

He still did it anyway.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Merchlings and Heartrenders, meet Mr and Mrs Rietveld."

The bank was one of the most beautiful buildings in Ketterdam. It was made from white stone with all marble floors and pillars - it was a work of art.

Each countertop was trimmed with gold and the black and white checkerboard floor had the bank insignia set into the middle using coloured marble.

Y/N and Kaz strolled into the bank, dressed in the high-end fashions of the Merchants and the wealthy. Kaz had kept his cane since it fitted in with the general aesthetic they were aiming for but Y/N had had to leave her knives and revolvers behind in the care of Inej and Jesper.

Y/N shifted her arm through Kaz's a bit and he flinched slightly but she didn't notice, far too engrossed in looking at the chandelier hanging over the teller's desk.

"Saints," Y/N whispered, staring at the glass, diamond and gold monstrosity. "One day, I want to have a chandelier like that."

"They're a nightmare to dust," Kaz muttered.

"Like you would know."

The head of the bank beamed at them as they approached his desk. "Ah, hello! How may I help you this fine evening?"

"Good evening, sir!" Kaz said, raising his voice and forcing a smile to his face. Y/N almost shuddered it looked so unnatural. "My wife and I would like to pop into our vault - it's our nieces birthday soon and we're looking for a family heirloom to hand down to her."

Y/N tried not to show her confusion or surprise. at the false story. Kaz often came up with the most random stories during heists but this was a first.

"Of course! What's the vault number and name?"

"Rietveld. And the vault is 230421."

The teller pursued his lips as he flicked through the books. "Ah, here you are!" He opened a drawer and handed a key to Kaz. "I'll have Margot here walk you down. Feel free to make your own way back up once you're done, the dropbox for the keys is by the door."

A young woman with her black hair neatly tied back in a bun stepped forward and smiled. "If you'll follow me, Mr and Mrs Rietveld."

Y/N was never going to get used to that.

Margot led them down a corridor lit by small clam-shaped lights hanging on the walls and to a sweeping marble staircase that led down to the vaults.

"Fourth row on the left, second door in as you walk into the red hall," she explained.

"Thank you," Y/N said, beaming at her gratefully. As soon as Margot left, however, her smile fell. "Niece?! Who's daughter is our niece?!"

"Jesper and Wylan's naturally," Kaz replied, walking down the rest of the stairs.

Y/N picked up the hem of her dark burgundy dress, chasing after him. "What makes you think they'd choose a daughter?"

"The fact that Jesper was workshopping names with Nina two nights ago - the top name, by the way, being Charlotte."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Naturally." She sighed. "Kaz, I still don't think this is a good idea."

"Yes, I know your opinion on this job," Kaz said, barely even glancing at her.

"And do you think if I keep sighing dramatically, I'll make my point?"

"Nope."

"Fair enough."

After walking down the wrong row, getting lost twice and almost being knocked out by yet another chandelier - Y/N was grateful Kaz hadn't been right behind her when she'd stepped back suddenly - they found the vault.

"After you, wife," Kaz drawled, waving to the vault.

Y/N rolled her eyes but walked inside it, her eyes widening almost instantly.

"Saints above," she breathed.

Kaz smirked from behind her. "I know."

Almost every inch of the vault had something either on it or clearly labelled as being inside it.

"Who's vault is this?" Y/N asked, walking further inside, a hand trailing across the edge of a framed DeKappel leaning against the wall.

"It's a generic one, really. Anything we get from heists comes in here until we either sell it or use it for something else," Kaz explained. He walked up to a drawer and pulled out a little key, unlocking it.

"What's in there?"

"The key to Pekka's vault."

"Hang on I thought the thing we were stealing was in this vault," Y/N said, frowning.

"I never said that."

"Kaz, if we get caught -"

"Well, then, we won't get caught, will we?" Kaz snapped, whirling to face her.

Y/N was taken aback by the fire and sheer determination in his eyes that she took a small step back. Kaz closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

"We'll be in and out," he said, quieter this time. "I promise."

Y/N nodded. "Fine."

They left their vault and quietly walked down the rows upon rows of other secure vaults, searching for the number engraved on the key in Kaz's gloved hands.

"Why does Pekka Rollins get to you so much?"

Kaz's cane slowed slightly. "He's a horrible person."

"Yes, and so is literally everyone else in Ketterdam, Kaz, that's not a reason. And besides, you're not usually a fight the evil type of person."

Kaz let out an imperceptible sigh. "He took something from me in my first few weeks in Ketterdam. Something very precious to me and... and ever since I've been seeking revenge."

"So, all of this is about revenge?"

"If you want to look at it that way, yes."

"What other way is there to look at it?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

Kaz stilled. "Well, I suppose the other way to look at it is that I'm just trying really hard to piss him off."

Y/N giggled. And then breathed in and burst out laughing. Kaz stared at her, his lips trying to convince him to smile, his heart pounding in his head. Saints, if he could he would live off her laughter and nothing else.

"Saints, sometimes I forget that, really, we're just children," Y/N said, wiping the corner of her eyes. "Pissing people off works wonders for revenge and pain, by the way. I would know.

Kaz didn't miss the way her eyes twinkled as she paused. He knew exactly what she was referring to. He'd helped her burn down the pleasure house she'd been indebted to - the two of them laughing maniacally as the fire licked up the perfume and memories.

No one had been inside, of course. They may be criminals but they weren't psychopaths.

Kaz smirked. He nodded to the door next to Y/N. "That's the vault."

Once Kaz had unlocked the door it took both of them to actually open it. The door was heavy and thick - probably one of the most protected vaults in the entire building.

"Ok, I was going to ask why we didn't just pick the lock, but now I understand," Y/N said, panting. She braced her hands on her legs and exhaled. "Bloody hell."

"Welcome to the world of locked rooms," Kaz muttered.

Pekka's vault was far more organised than the one belonging to the Dregs. Everything was clearly labelled and had a home.

Which, coincidentally, also made it incredibly easy to steal from.

Kaz was like a magpie when it spots something shiny - he limped forward with such vigour he barely used his cane. He opened a drawer and pulled out an ornate dagger with an emerald handle and two dragons wrapped around the blade.

"Oh, that's beautiful," Y/N said, unable to contain her awe at the blade. She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Sorry."

"No, I agree," Kaz said, cradling the dagger gently in his hands. He turned around and offered it to Y/N. At her blank stare he said, "your dress does possess pockets, does it not? A rare feat I know."

Y/N rolled her eyes but slotted the dagger into a pocket within the pleats of her skirt. "So, is that it? Can we -"

A loud thud came from outside the vault. Both Kaz and Y/N stilled, slowly turning to see what it was. Neither one of them moved as another thud came followed by whispered voices.

Then the vault door began to close.

Y/N ran up to it and tried to push against it but the automatic locking mechanism kicked in and she was pushed back into the vault. The door slammed shut and hissed as it locked into place. She slammed her hand against the metal and swore loudly.

Kaz silently approached the door and pressed a gloved hand to the lock, running his thumb over it, his eyes scanning the lock closely.

"Please tell me you have a 'we got locked in the vault' plan," Y/N pleaded, panic beginning to set in.

"I do."

"And?"

"Well, I try to pick the lock," Kaz explained, kneeling down in front of it.

"I thought you couldn't!"

"I never said I couldn't, Y/N. See, in a world full of locks and secrets, anyone with the key is king." Kaz turned to face her, his eyes dark and full of malice, full of wanting, full of desire and revenge. "And honey, you should see me in a crown."

For the next few minutes, Y/N sat on the floor and watched Kaz rhythmically fiddle with the lock, his fingers like a spiders legs as it weaved its web.

As the fourth minute of being trapped rolled around, Y/N began to feel short of breath. She looked over at Kaz and could see beads of sweat begin to roll down his forehead and realised that she too was sweating. Y/N shrugged out of her overcoat and dumped it on the floor, pushing the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows.

"The air is running out, isn't it," Y/N said softly, her words slow as she struggled to speak.

Kaz nodded. "The vault door seals off everything. Usually, there is an oxygen supply but -"

"Whoever locked us in here shut it off too," Y/N finished, closing her eyes.

"Yeah."

Kaz sounded defeated. Broken. Y/N opened her eyes and gone was the Bastard of Barrel. Instead was the young boy Kaz actually was.

"How long?"

"Don't know. Less talking means longer."

Y/N nodded. She was growing tired quickly and breathing was getting difficult. There was a metallic ting as Kaz dropped his lockpicks, the metal bouncing on the floor. He hung his head and slumped forward, resting it against the door.

After a moment, Kaz stood up and slowly limped over to sit opposite Y/N, extending his bad leg out in front of him.

"Do you have any regrets?" Y/N asked softly, her eyes closed once more.

"I've lived with regret all my life, Y/N. I'll probably die with regret too," Kaz muttered, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck. He leant forward and pulled his arms out of his suit jacket. He sat back and methodically rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "You?"

"I regret ever meeting you."

A breathless bark of laughter.

Y/N smiled. She exhaled deeply, feeling her head begin to get dizzy. Her limbs were heavy and uncoordinated and she suspected that out of the two of them, she would be the first to succumb to the darkness.

"Talk to me, Y/N," Kaz said, tapping her bent knee with his foot.

"Talking bad," Y/N panted, forcing her heavy eyes to open. Kaz was staring at her and for once, his eyes were a storm of concern, worry, despair and acceptance.

"Why were you so against this?"

"It felt unnecessary," Y/N replied, letting her head fall back against the wall. "You do everything for a reason."

"That dagger is worth 5 thousand kruge."

"I know. But you aren't selling it," Y/N said. "It's going on your shelf. This was personal. And personal means blindness hence," she waved a hand around before letting it fall to the floor with a weighty thud.

"Everything is personal with Pekka Rollins," Kaz muttered.

"Why?"

Kaz paused. "I told you why."

"Kaz, we're dying," Y/N said, her words beginning to come in breathless gasps. It pained Kaz to hear and to see how clammy and pale she was becoming. "We are dying so, there's no point... no point in lying." Y/N coughed and then fell back against the wall again.

Kaz looked down at his gloved hands, contemplating his life and choices. He glanced up at Y/N again and a bolt of fire hit his heart as he watched her head loll to the side. Kaz swallowed thickly as he moved to his knees and crawled over to her, coming to sit on her right.

He raised a black hand and lightly tapped Y/N's cheek, almost recoiling as Jordie flashed through his mind.

"I'm awake," Y/N mumbled, her eyes blearily opening.

Kaz gently pushed her head up, grabbing her chin as softly as he could and making her look at him. "Stay with me, ok? Just a bit longer, Y/N."

"I'm tired of this, Kaz," Y/N whispered. "So tired."

Kaz didn't know if she meant him or just life in general. He felt the ocean begin to drown him again but he pushed on, taking her hand in his. His gloved fingers wrapped around her bare ones and Y/N jumped slightly.

"Pekka Rollins took something from me," Kaz said quietly, unsure of where to even begin his tragic tale. "I was twelve when I first arrived in Ketterdam with... with my brother."

"Didn't know you had a brother," Y/N mumbled tiredly, her eyes closed once more.

Kaz was struggling to breathe, every syllable aching on his lungs. "He was older than me and was my whole world. And Pekka took him from me."

"How?"

"Scammed us. Both of us." Kaz paused. "Then the Queen's Lady Plague hit and we both caught it. He died I survived."

Y/N was wheezing, struggling to breathe at all. Her body was growing limper and she was beginning to slump against Kaz.

Kaz shifted, lifting his left arm up to wrap around her shoulders. With every movement, he thought he might drown underneath the waves, underneath Jordie's rotten corpse. But he kept going. Because his time was limited and he wasn't about to let his trauma ruin his last moments with Y/N. Kaz pulled Y/N against him and she slumped against his chest. He could feel how slow her heartbeat was and knew time was running out.

Death was finally catching up to them.

"Except no one knew I was alive," Kaz continued, a hand on Y/N's wrist, measuring her ever weaker pulse. "So, I was thrown on the Reaper's Barge with my dead brother and countless others."

Y/N moaned softly, her head lolling against him. Kaz looked down and tightened his grip around her even as he felt his own breath leave him, his own heart slowing.

"I survived, though. I used my brother's corpse to get to shore and from there..." Kaz chuckled dryly, regretting the action as he coughed violently for a moment. "Well, look at me now."

"I'm sorry..." Y/N whispered, her voice so soft and quiet Kaz almost missed it. "About... your brother."

"He was an idiot." Kaz said the words with so much venom it actually surprised him. "Y/N, listen... I want you to know something."

A soft noise of what might have been yes escaped Y/N's lips. Her eyes were closed and she was so close to just slipping off the edge it was scaring him. Kaz had always seen himself dying alone at a young age. Dying before anyone else because he couldn't see himself living until he was old. He couldn't see himself outliving anyone else.

Yet here he was, Y/N in his arms, watching her die before him. Even if it was just seconds or minutes - he'd still be alone with her dead body for however long it took for death to find him.

Kaz had never seen himself falling in love. He'd lost too much to love to make the same mistake again. But then Jesper had arrived. And then Inej. And then Y/N. And he suddenly had three friends who cared for him. His crows.

"I never thought I could love again," Kaz said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. It was a confession to the Saints Inej believed in, in futile hope they'd accept him with open arms. Y/N shifted in his arms as she went limper, more energy leaving her as the air ran out.

Kaz knew it was far too late for any sort of forgiveness. He'd killed so many, shed so much blood on the streets of Ketterdam that he was long gone. Y/N too. She too had suffered and lost things. She'd been broken by men and slavers and used and abused by those hungry for a side piece.

Somehow, though, she kept smiling. Somehow, she was still kind and loving. She was everything Kaz wasn't. But they were both broken and broken things attracted each other. And broke each other as well as fixing each other.

"I never thought I would love anyone," Kaz repeated, quieter now as his air ran out. "Not after Jordie and... and my Da. Yet here you are. My own Saint from above."

Y/N said nothing. Kaz looked down and realised that at some point whilst he'd been in his own mind, she'd passed out and stopped breathing. He wanted to be sad. He wanted to grieve and cry and try to save her.

But he was just so tired.

Kaz brushed a piece of hair out of Y/N's still warm face and sighed to himself. His eyes began to close and Kaz felt a smile on his face as he stared at nothing.

"Hello, Jordie," he whispered as his eyes shut. "I forgive you."

Kaz finally felt at peace. But then there was noise and too many shadows around and him and too many hands and the water splashed over him and then he bolted upright, his eyes wild and wide-open as he fought off whoever it was.

"Saints, Kaz, it's us!" Jesper yelled, catching Kaz's balled-up fist just before it landed a decent punch to his face. "Kaz, it's Jesper, calm down."

"Let go of my hand," Kaz grounded out, still confused and, honestly, scared.

"Are you going to punch me?"

"At some point, yes, but not right now," Kaz muttered.

Jesper dropped his hand from Kaz's and Kaz instantly retreated into himself, pushing himself away. And then it hit him.

"Y/N..."

Jesper's face fell. He nodded to the side and Kaz's eyes followed his gaze.

Y/N was lying on the floor, her hair spread around her like a Saint's halo, as Nina and Matthias surrounded her, trying to resuscitate her. Matthias pinched Y/N's nose and brought his lips to her blue tinged ones, breathing air into her still lungs.

"She wasn't breathing when we... we got in," Jesper said quietly. Kaz didn't miss the slight break in the man's voice as he spoke.

Kaz didn't say anything. He just watched as Nina brought her hands together and down to Y/N's chest, sending her power through her veins.

"Where's Inej and Wylan?" Kaz asked, his eyes locked on Y/N's body as it rocked slightly from Nina's constant attempts to restart her heart.

"Dealing with the Razourgulls," Jesper replied. "They were -"

"I guessed it was them," Kaz said quietly.

Once again, Pekka Rollins had blinded him. Once again, he was going to lose the person he loved to Pekka Rollins. Once again, Kaz had made a stupid, stupid mistake.

Kaz wanted to tell Nina and Matthias to give up and let Y/N go in peace. He wanted to tell them to just leave her alone and to stop forcing air into her lungs and to stop forcing her heart to beat again.

Because she looked so peaceful lying there. And Kaz knew that peace was rare in a life so broken and so filled with heartache, pain and grief.

"Jes, tell them to stop," Kaz said, his voice cracking slightly.

Jesper frowned at him. "Why?"

"Because..." Kaz inhaled sharply as the words got caught in his throat. "Because she's suffered enough. Let her go."

Kaz could see the conflict in Jesper's eyes. He didn't want Y/N to be dead. But there was no point in forcing her to keep living when she was finally at peace.

Kaz only hoped that when his time finally came, he too would find peace. What shape it would come in, he didn't know. But he hoped he'd find it. And if he did, he hoped Y/N would be there too.

Jesper looked at Kaz. And then he nodded. "Nina, stop," Jesper said quietly.

"No, I can do this, I'm not letting her die," Nina said firmly, shaking her head.

"Nina," Jesper said again. "Let her go."

"No."

"Nina, please, let her be at peace," Jesper said softly, crouching down behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Let her go home, Nina. Let her finally rest."

Nina sobbed and fell back into Jesper, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Jesper wrapped his arms around her, cradling her and shielding her from Y/N's body as all four of them sat in the heavy silence.

Kaz's eyes were locked onto Y/N's body. Even as Matthias moved her hands to rest on her stomach, he stared. He couldn't get over how peaceful she looked. How, finally, she was free of her ghosts.

Kaz shook his head and blinked because he could swear he was seeing things. Because he thought he'd seen Y/N's chest rise. He rubbed his eyes and looked again as Y/N coughed violently, rolling onto her side as she struggled to catch her breath.

Nina's sobs turned into tears of joy as she looked at Y/N, seeing her alive and breathing and making more noise than she had in the last ten minutes. Matthias held Y/N up, rubbing her back as she greedily gulped down the fresh air, clutching Matthias' arm tightly as she braced herself.

Kaz sighed, almost collapsing to the floor with relief.

For a moment there was just silence.

"Nina, I'm pretty sure Matthias has now kissed me more than you," Y/N croaked.

Nina, despite her tears and terror, leant forward and whacked Y/N's arm. And then bundled her to the floor in the tightest hug Y/N had ever had.

Kaz hovered outside Y/N's bedroom door. He knocked once, not allowing himself a second to hesitate. Silence greeted him. Frowning, Kaz opened the door and peered inside.

Y/N's bed was still made - only slightly crumpled from where Matthias had laid her last night after they'd escaped the bank. It was obvious she hadn't slept that night.

Neither had Kaz, in all fairness.

Kaz trudged down the stairs to the main room of the Slat, his eyes scanning the dark room for any sign of her.

"She's in the kitchen," Wylan said sleepily as he shuffled past, a cup of tea in his hands. "Stress baking," he added, raising an eyebrow at Kaz.

Kaz said nothing. He nodded his thanks to Wylan and headed down the corridor to the kitchen. He was greeted by the smell of fresh cookies and his stomach growled in response.

Y/N was humming to herself as she slid the fresh cookies off the tray and onto a plate, picking off the crumbs as she set the tray back in the oven.

"Want one?"

Kaz resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, she knew he was there.

"Have you slept?"

"Have you?"

The tone and the quick response told Kaz everything he needed to know about Y/N's state of mind. Whilst she was usually quick at her comebacks and witty comments, she was never harsh with them. But now, there was something to her words that worried Kaz.

"Wylan said you're stress baking."

He was stating the obvious but he wasn't entirely sure what else to say.

Y/N said nothing. She'd boiled the kettle again and now took it off the stove and poured the water into two cups. "I'm not ok."

Kaz nodded. He inhaled deeply. "Neither am I."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Me neither."

"I do have one question, however," Y/N continued, turning around to face him.

Kaz looked at her, taking in the bags under her eyes and the way her posture was drooping. "What?"

"I don't... I don't remember a lot of what we said to each other last night," she said softly, her voice cracking a bit. "A lot of it is fuzzy but... I remember you mentioned your brother."

Kaz braced himself. He was regretting mentioning his brother and Pekka. Ideally, he just wanted to forget the night had ever happened.

"What was his name?"

Y/N's question stunned him into silence. Of all the possibilities that had run through his head, that question had not been one of them. But then again, he should've realised that Y/N wouldn't pry unless he was ready. It was just the two of them in the kitchen in the late afternoon silence. Y/N looked exhausted and perhaps a bit more broken than she had been the day before but as Kaz stared at her, she gave him a reassuring smile and nod.

When the ocean began to drag him down to the darkness, Y/N's anchor managed to pull him back up and keep him grounded. Keep him bobbing along a bit longer.

So, he looked her in the eye and said: "Jordie. His name was Jordie."

[moonchildstyles]

Angel being playful with Aster, maybe she’s being extra playful tonight they’re 🥸 because they’ve had some wine and she’s on her back and he’s on top kissing her almost ready to go and she’s like “H I want to use a condom tonight” and she says it a bit smiley but to H is always she calls the shots so “Yeah of course Angel let me get one” and he’s not even disappointed, whatever she wants… so he’s looking for one but it’s been a while so where are they “baby we were running out when we stopped using those” and he hears her little laugh like hee hee hee so he turns around to look at her and she’s “H I was kidding come here” so H just chuckles like huh wery being funny tonight? And she laughs even more and it’s definitely going to be a giggly kind of time tonight 🥰 — 🌛

wait:(((((((( just lots of giggly smiley touchy kisses and they can barely keep it together bc they're smiling too hard and h is tickling at her sides getting her to laugh while hes kissing her and maybe something silly happened at dinner and they both keep making jokes about it to get the other to laugh and they taste like wine but its just so:((((((( but since she's gotten on birth control while h always asks still if she wants to use a condom more often than not she just.... doesn't so its been a while and he moved the box they had to somewhere in the bathroom bc he just didn't need It in his nightstand anymore so when she tells him she wants to use one tonight she really thought he would know shes teasing but theres absolutely no hesitation before hes giving her a kiss and okay let me get one ill be right back :) and she sees him run to the bathroom w his shirt off and pants unbuttoned and slouching on his waist and he really starts looking and she can hear his rattling around in drawers and cabinets until he peeks out w a squish face and hes rubbing the back of his neck like were we running out before we stopped using them every time? bc I can't find them :( and like she can't help but start laughing bc hes so cute and h:))))) I was just kidding come back! and he gets that little face w a half smile and his eyes all sparkly before hes like prowling to the bed again like oh? we're being funny tonight are we? and she can't help it hes just so much fun to play w so def lots of giggly rolling around in the sheets that only get interrupted by a breathy moan and im literally so fragile rn

[nikrangdan]

lovestruck!enhypen x reader

pairing: lovestruck!enhypen x reader

genre: FLUFF fluff Fluff

description: how enhypen would be if they became lovestruck by the reader ☹️☹️ this is such an adorable request!!!! itll vary for each member ur relationships so you’ll either be strangers or already dating etc.

a/n: idk if all of them are lovestruck exactly bc i just got carried away with the fluff for some of them and idky maknae line revolves around sleeping BUT IDC sleepy!enhypen is the best 😁

———————

HEESEUNG

u worked at a pretty popular clothing store

and well well well heeseung had shown up dressed very much your style so u were like

Wow who is this guy....

he was alone just looking around

and there were like 10 other people in the store but u wanted to talk to him so bad so u went up like

“hi, welcome! are u finding everything okay?”

he was looking through a rack of shirts and turned around when he heard u but WOW

when this man turned around he looked even better in person u couldnt believe it 😫

BUT IT SEEMS HE FELT THE SAME BC U SWEAR HE BECAME SO FLUSTERED WHEN HE TURNED AROUND

his eyes got so wide u almost laughed it was so cute ☹️

he stuttered and was like “oh um im okay”

Aw man

but u said “okay then! let me know if you need any help finding anything or if u wanna use a dressing room!” and u sent him ur nicest smile u could give

his eyes were still kinda wide open and u gave him one last look before turning around😢😢

BUT THEN HE SAID SOMETHING

“w-wait! actually.. um....uh.. do u.. do u guys have sweatpants..?”

u giggled to urself on the inside bc u knew he just made that up on the spot

“we do! here, follow me”

while u were showing him the clothes u guys had exchanged names and had some small talk

and that was the start of something very Beautiful

and since then he has been coming almost everyday to visit u at work 🤗🤗

JAY

jay swore he found new things about u to love every single day

and today wasnt an exception!!!!

u knew jay had been really tired and just worn out from work recently so u had decided to make him his favorite meal for dinner

a nice little surprise for when he got home ❤️

and also the anime he was watching ready on the tv for u two to watch together :(

u had literally been preparing all day and u even decided to go out and buy dessert too

AWESOMEST PERSON EVER U ARE!

it was 8pm already and jay should be getting home now

u set the table all neatly and put on one of his sweaters

AND WOULD U LOOK AT THAT HE GOT HOME AS SOON AS U WERE DONE

Fate 🔥🔥

romantic stuff like this wasnt really ur forte so this was out of the normal for u

but u wanted to do something for jay because he did stuff like this for u alot

the table isnt in view when u walk into the apartment so he wasnt able to see his dinner yet

“hi” you smile brightly and go up to hug him and give him a little kiss

he had his bad slung over one of his shoulders and he was taking his shoes off in the doorway after he closed it

“hey.. it smells pretty good in here” he gave you a tired smile while one of his arms was wrapped around your waist

“really? it smells normal to me” you giggled before walking to the kitchen area together

he stopped and looked at u with LITERAL HEARTS IN HIS EYES when he saw the table

jay: ❤️_❤️

“y/n..”

“surprise!!! you know im not good with words but i wanted to show you that i can cook” you laugh “and that i love you very much and im so proud of you”

jay doesnt say anything but instead drops his bag on the couch and gives u the Biggest Hug Ever

ur face is practically smushed in his chest and his hand is resting lovingly on ur hair :(((

he loves u so much im so sad

JAKE

“layla!!! layla where are you?” jake was yelling quite loudly in the massive park he was in the middle of

yeah jake lost layla.. uh oh

quite a coincidence you found the cutest dog you’d ever laid eyes on

and she seemed to love u very much

the dog had made u topple over and now she was excitedly playing with you while you were sat on the ground laughing to your hearts content

after a minute of playing you had got up because you knew she was somebodys lost dog and her owner was probably looking all over the park for her

“okay.. lets go find your owner before they have a heart attack” you giggle

just as you said that though, you heard a boys voice yell “LAYLA!!!!”

the dog next to you looked in his direction, tail wagging and tongue out, but she didnt move an inch from her spot next to you

it made me you laugh out loud

as you were watching the boy run up to you, you noticed how cute he actually was

Omg..... ur heart started beating a little faster

“hi..” the boy hunched over with his hands on his knees breathing very heavily “you have my dog”

“uh yeah” you laugh “sorry about that, she ran over to me a couple minutes ago and i was just about to go find her owner”

“its okay, thank you..” he trailed off to find out your name and finally looked up to meet your eyes

“y/n” you told him

“y/n” he repeated with a small grin on his face “im jake”

“hi jake” you lightheartedly give him your hand to shake and he chuckles before taking the offer

“and it was nice meeting you layla” you crouch down to meet her level and she licks your face making you fall on your butt

you laugh and jakes quick to help you up

“layla! thats not very nice” he jokingly scolds her and pets her head

after u got up u bid goodbye to the two before jake invited u to continue walking around the park AND HE EVEN BOUGHT U AN ICE CREAM

Is This A Date, Jake? 😫😫❤️❤️❤️❤️😳😛😛

SUNGHOON

“you should be more careful” you scold the boy sitting with you standing between his legs

sunghoon had apparently gotten elbowed in the face by his friend and scratched by his friends cat on accident????

“it wasn’t my fault! he turned around and i just happened to be in the way. and i didnt even do anything to the cat!” he whined

“i didnt say it was your fault. i said to be more careful.” you tried to sound stern

u knew ur logic was making no sense but u just thought it was so fun to mess with him

he let out a sigh and gave up, slouching over again

you were stood between his legs, wiping the blood away and applying ointment

“im just kidding, you’re so cute” one of your free hands comes up to rub his hair

a small grin pops up on his face and his arms come to rest on your waist

he looks up at you while you focus on tending to his wounds

and u guessed it WITH LITERAL HEARTS IN HIS EYES

❤️_❤️

“you know y/n” he begins

you hum in response, letting him know you’re listening

“im gonna marry you one day”

you freeze in your place

it took you a minute to collect yourself because you felt like your heart almost leaped out of your chest

“who says?” you joke

he leans up to give you a quick kiss on the lips before sitting back down

“me.”

SUNOO

you noticed sunoo had been really tired lately and u just wanted to make him feel better :((

the boys were going out and invited you two obviously but you could tell sunoo was iffy about going

“uhh..” you trail off and look over at sunoo who was laying on the couch

“you know what guys? i think me and sunoo are gonna stay home today.. you guys have fun though!” you bid goodbye to the other boys and they all understood and left

you dont even know if sunoo knew they had left already because when you walked over to him his tired eyes were glued on the tv

“hey” you leaned against the couch and looked down at him

“y/n? are we going soon?” his eyes move to the top of his head to look up at you

you start laughing and he literally goes 🤨???

“silly, they already left! so what do you wanna do?” you plop down next to him and he was in the process of sitting up

“what? when did they leave...” his mouth drops open

“like 2 minutes ago” you giggle, leaning back to rest your head

sunoo had sat still, pondering for a moment

“why did they leave us?” he turned to look at you

your eyes met his “well i figured you didnt wanna go... you didnt, right?”

he slowly shakes his head “how did you know?”

you give him a sneaky smile and jokingly push his arm “because i know you so well”

he laughs at this and leans his head on your shoulder

“wow y/n.. im impressed” he grins, snuggling into your arm

your other arm crosses over to pat him on the head, leaning your head to rest on top of his

“but thank you y/n..” his eyes slowly close to rest “im thankful for all the little things you notice about me”

u literally go 🥺

your hand goes down to squeeze his and he falls asleep peacefully on ur shoulder ☹️☹️☹️❤️

JUNGWON

“y/n..what is that” jungwons eyes can barely open as he tries to comprehend whats going on while hes waking up

you haphazardly tap around the bedside table trying to turn off the new alarm you set last night

and that new alarm was jungwon singing 🤗

“its you, dummy” your eyes were still closed but you turned to face jungwon and snuggled closer to him

“wha- where did you even get that???” he was almost fully awake now, staring down at your half asleep figure

you yawned before answering in your i-just-woke-up-and-i-should-probably-drink-some-water voice “remember when you sang me to sleep last week? yeah i was secretly recording you. no biggie” you pat his chest twice and leave your hand there, content with life at the moment Lol

“y/nnnn” he whines “change ittt i dont like it”

“you’re kidding.” you deadpan, shocked he would say such a thing!!! “jungwon you sound like an angel threw up on a field of flowers full of puppies and kittens! okay thats kinda weird maybe not that”

jungwon giggles a little and sits up so he can sit against the headboard while your head rests on his lap

“you like my singing that much?” you can hear the smile in his voice as he asks you

you finally pop one eye open to look up at him, a goofy grin in your face

“i love your singing”

his hands run through your hair and you let out a sigh at the feeling

jungwon doesnt say anything

all he does is admire you

you can feel his eyes on you so you open your eyes again (both this time🙏🏼) and meet his eyes

“i can feel you staring straight into the depths of my soul, jungwon”

he laughs at this, bring his other hand up to pinch your cheek

“i’ll sing for you whenever you want me to y/n”

NI-KI

“shut up sunghoon, hes sleeping” you whisper-scolded the boy

ni-ki was currently asleep on you

literally SPRAWLED all over your body and you were basically mummified

by nishimura riki

his legs were tangled in yours, his head shoved into your neck, and his arms were bent around you in ways you didnt know were humanly possible

“you literally have an alien taking a nap on you y/n” sunghoon deadpans before walking out the room

“when you’re asleep sunghoon i will send you into a spacecraft for the rest of your life so you can go see aliens for yourself”

“wowww im so scared y/n” the boy remarks and shuts the door

you half laugh and half scoff before turning your attention back to the ipad screen sitting on the bed infront of you

well

kind of infront of you because ni-ki’s acrobatic position was basically blocking the view

you were having a decent time watching the show playing, definitely not the most comfortable person on the planet at the moment

until you felt the body on top of you.. rumble?

you knew that feeling

ni-ki was laughing

HOW and WHY the hell was he laughing ?!!?!!?!

“what the hell?” you look down at him and his face is shoved near your shoulder but you caught a glimpse of his big smile

his laughter gets louder and you still dont have answers yet

“why are you laughing???? i thought you were sleeping?????” you try to push him off you but he was persistent in laughing in your shoulder (??)

after a couple minutes of you just letting this happen

ni-ki finally speaks!

“you’re so funny y/n” he finally pulls away from you and wipes his tears

“what are you even talking about... and how long were you awake, you sneaky kid” you poke his chest

he leans down again to hug your waist and start cuddling you again

“10 minutes”

“so you’re telling me i could’ve freed myself from that god awful demon EMBRACE you had me in 10 minutes ago???!!”

ni-ki starts laughing again and looks up at you

“thank you for threatening to send sunghoon to aliens for me y/n” he grins

you laugh, finally understanding what the boy had been going on about

“sunghoon deserved it”

[listentothisyoooh]

Care For You; BC

A/N: This piece is +18, minors do not interact.

Summary: You come home from work, only to find your boyfriend, Chris, exhausted and drained. What can you say, when he asks you to make him feel better in your own special ways?

Warnings: sub Chan, soft dom female reader, hand jobs, orgasm control, edging, ropes, dirty talk, use of nicknames (mistress, little, pup, angel, etc), mention of the color system --

Word Count: 4.2k

“Hey, hi baby!” You whispered, sitting down on the edge of the mattress next to Chan’s rigid body, “When did you get home?” Caressing the tangled, short platinum blond locks sprawled on the pillow, you smiled down at his puffy, tired face; it probably wasn’t a good thing that you weren’t answered by a smile.

“An hour, I guess.” He rasped, his cords rugged with sleepiness and something else –something you didn’t quite like. The cool, white sheets covered him up to his shoulders, leaving no patch of pale skin open for your sight, and the faded shade of raspberry on his perky lips further demonstrated just how tired the man was.

“Oh honey,” You cooed, leaning over Chan to plant a kiss on his temple while he lay on his side, facing where you sat, “you seem exhausted. Are you alright? Did something happen?” You couldn’t really help the way your brows knotted as a sign of worry. Using arms as pillars next to your boyfriend’s figure, you bowed above him; ceiling cream lights now blocked away from his sight and he could look up at you with those wide, glossy eyes, the peachy gleam of the bedside lamp reflecting from them.

“I’m okay, babe, don’t worry;” He assured, settling on his back gently, “It was just—a very, very long day!” A light laugh puffing out of him, he pulled on the sheets to conceal the lower part of his face from you, eyes still locked with yours. Chan was always soft –so soft, gentle and sweet, and that was why you just couldn’t stop showering him with light, lingering touches, one now being granted for him across his left cheekbone and the side of his eye by your thumb; he seemed to really enjoy it, lids flowing down and expression turning into a relaxed, almost blank one.

“Anything I can do, Channie?” Your gentle question fluttered his eyes open, “want me to make you something? Or get you some pills to help you sleep?” Sometimes, when he was too spent, it became frustratingly difficult for him to fall asleep, so it wouldn’t be far from ordinary if he were to have the same problem now; puffy eyes, flushed cheeks and tousled locks only asked for a bit of rest.

“Can you take care of me?” His quiet voice rose from beneath the sheets, his linear eyes staring right into yours, making your chest quiver alongside that innocent little request.

“Of course!” You smiled, “What do you need? I can give you a massage…” Your suggestion was met with his negative nod, the grips over the edge of the cover tightening.

“No,” He gulped, “can you take care of me, mistress?” There was already a certain breathlessness in his words which only made you grit your teeth; he looked so devastatingly vulnerable, looking up at you with hope, exhaustion and plea in his stare.

“Aren’t you a little too tired for that, pup?” Was the last thing you wanted to say to him, the last thing he wanted to hear too; shaking his head no, Chan squirmed in place while waiting for you to answer to the desperate request in a way that would satisfy both of you.

Instead, you just smiled. Cupping his right, warm cheek, you lightly pinched its plumpness and traced your hand lower unto his neck and chest, pulling that nuisance of a fabric away from those beautiful lips and skin. He visibly gulped at your movements –at being scanned by your sharp eyes, but made no objections whatsoever; the easy compliance egged you on to inch his figure further southwards, fingers dancing on the white sheet. It seemed like he was bare under the covers, and when your hand finally clasped at the side of his right thigh and absorbed the gentle body heat, your assumptions turned out to be accurate, slapping a smirk on your face.

“Are you naked, little?” You asked, stare switching between Chan’s agape lips and anticipating, bright eyes; he did nothing, as if waiting for your sly hand to figure that out itself. “Why is that?” Your gentle tone tried to coax the words out of the man, “Were you being naughty when I was at work?”

“No!” It was adorable how the reply cut off his quiet sigh, being shot out to convince you, “No, I was just waiting for you, and… I fell asleep.” He explained, his covered chest heaving out of slight nervousness. A light chuckle sprang out of you while you flew down to peck his pretty lips.

“Relax, pup; I believe you.” You assured, “It would be fine if you did, though;” Leaning down on your elbow, you peppered lingering kisses near his mouth, your free hand caressing his bicep from over the covers, “you’ve been so good lately—you deserve a treat, both from me and yourself.” By the way his cheek flexed under your lips, you could tell he was smiling. “So, let’s give you a treat then, angel!” He shivered when your breath rubbed on the sensitive spot under his ear.

As soon as you backed away and got off of the bed, Chan rose up to sit on his butt and see what you were doing, the white cover dropping unto his lap; knowing that you’re being watched, you made your way to the small, antique chest placed on top of a console table next to your closet, and opened its lid, eyes immediately landing on the dark jade bundle of silk rope as well as the small tube of expensive, cinnamon scented lubricant, both of them sitting brazenly over the extra pile of naughty toys and accessories! You grabbed the objects with content, having already formed a plan in your head while expecting eyes bore into your back; you threw the equipment on the mattress right next to the man’s feet, fighting back a smirk when your short glance caught him staring at them and gulping. The chair next to the ajar door welcomed your buttoned shirt and jeans to leave you alone with the tight red top and black panties, watching you silently set a course to your boyfriend back on the bed.

“Are you feeling verbal today?” You asked the young man whose eyes obviously swayed over your figure without any intention. It took a dazed, short while for Chan to answer, but he finally did after a gulp and pursing his lips.

“I don’t know…” He shook his head when you sat in front of his folded legs on the mattress, putting a calf between your locations; his slumped, pale body was screaming for your attention in the most innocent way possible, which wasn’t all that rare for the man, as he, deep down, was very innocent, despite what he liked to show his fans and or had to portray of himself because of his career and his position in their group. It hadn’t really been mentioned yet, but you were aware of the heartwarming fact that you were the only person entrusted with this side of his character –a side he himself cherished dearly yet had always tried to suppress, until meeting you, of course.

“Well then,” You caressed his puffy cheek, pressing your forehead on his and giving him an Eskimo kiss, “we just have to find out, I guess!” Your soft chuckle mixed with the one Chan let out, and you found the moment intimate and soothing enough to begin kissing the man, allowing his passionate lips to gently dance over yours for a while before adding your tongue into the mixture and earning light huffs and sighs from his waving throat.

“Fold your arms on each other.” Guiding his hands, you helped him hold his left forearm in front of his abdomen and place the right one on top of it, wrapping his fingers around his elbows to show satisfaction for the plan; catching the wait in the slouched figure, you got a grip of the ropes behind your rear and started your rather enticing mission of binding the man’s arms together, knots and rings gently kissing his pale skin.

He was more than compliant, once or twice pecking your face when you leaned too close to tighten a knot or readjust a bundle; his breaths were even yet deep, and in between all of that, you could clearly witness a tent forming on the sheet sprawled on his lap, slow yet bold. His mind was taken by your scent, the close but still far away heat of your embrace, and he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to your light, accidental contacts across his arms; dear lord, was he touch-starved!

“All good?” You asked, finally finished with your work. His simple nod was good enough of an answer.

The brightness which reflected from the white covers on the bed turned him even paler and that allowed the jade rope to show off its elegant color on Chan’s bare figure. He looked stunning, blond hair sticking out in this direction or that, lips swollen and red from the excessive nervous biting; there was nothing holding you back from lifting up his chin and crashing your mouth unto his, having him nailed in place by a heavy grip on his thigh. He huffed over your face shakily as your hand plowed in between his locks which you now realized were damp; he must’ve showered after coming home from the studio, you guessed.

“You like this rope; don’t you, puppy?” You giggled, leaving a gentle kiss on his perky bottom lip, trailing down to his jaw and throat while pulling his head back. “Is it the fabric? Or the color?” Your question drowned in the dip of his neck vein as you sucked lightly on it, hearing him whimper impatiently and wriggle in place.

“Color.” He replied simply, trying to gulp with the uncomfortable position of his head. Your tongue, tracing wet lines on the distinct veins and bulges beneath his sensitive skin, made him tense uncontrollably; he was already so worked up, despite being tired.

“Yeah?” Your teasing tone sent a shiver into his shoulders, “I was thinking about getting you that mini wand vibrator you showed me the other day –the jade one…” Looking back up into his eyes, he panted lightly, “Good, yeah?” He nodded once again, not trusting his voice to make an appearance, making you smile with adoration, “What’s so special about jade anyway?” The man’s heart-rate suddenly picked up and he leaned his forehead above your ear out of embarrassment for what he was gonna confess to.

“It was the color of your underwear the first time you… um—the first time I met mistress!” He tried his best to voice his explanation in the least flustering way, however hard it was. The confession was accompanied by his little hiss when you giggled and dragged the covers off of his figure, making sure it created the slowest, roughest amount of friction and grip.

“Oh, right…!” You mused, pulling your head away only inches; he didn’t seem too pleased about that, but watching you lean forward on your left arm nailed next to his hip and looking up at him with a little smile was all he could think about at the moment. Your index finger on the free hand began drawing circles on his hard tip, “That was a good night, wasn’t it baby?” He was too busy staring into your eyes with knotted brows and a bitten lip, obviously tensing to prevent from moving under your touch; seeing his composure, you massaged the head of his member with your thumb and index finger, gliding them down to its edge and dragging back up without haste but with good pressure. “You were bad, really bad—remember?” Smirking, at the way he kept pursing his lips while looking down at you, you came to the conclusion that he probably wasn’t going to be verbal that day; he rarely was, to be honest –only when he was too pent up or maybe too cocky, which didn’t happen all that often, but it was worth the experiment. He might not have liked to be talkative at these times, but he damn sure liked being talked to; he had admitted so more than once, dialogues and monologues being half of the pleasure for him.

Gluing your lips on his chin, you felt him shake as the tip of your finger pressed unto his red slit and slid back and forth, eliciting short whimpers from his agape mouth; he squirmed and squirmed but with no apparent aim, since he neither tried to settle efficiently under your teasing touch, nor did he back away from it to protest. He kept staring at you as if there was something he awaited, gulping and gulping and gulping!

“Lie back and spread your legs for me, sweetie.” You crawled back to grant the man space for his task, the one he fulfilled right after hearing your command.

The now cool spot on the mattress welcomed his muscly back and the sheets straightened when his feet dragged away from each other to make a perfectly fitting nest in between his thighs for you. He had to strain his neck to look over at you, so you decided to help him out by hovering above his torso and grabbing your own pillow to jam it behind his shoulders, creating a better angle for his vision. It was the hardest thing to resist kissing his beautiful lips and you saw no point in it anyway, diving down to steal a few noisy, wet pecks from your boyfriend, retreating into your place near his groin next.

“Mistress has taught you well, hasn’t she?” You purred, kneeling between his legs and sliding them over your thighs to earn the closest spot possible, “You used to be so hesitant –so, so impatient too,” He kept licking his lips while gazing at you, his deep breaths egging you on, “but now look at you; a good,” Your palms slowly wrapped around his length and started screwing over its upper and lower half in opposite directions, “good little angel for me.” His head tossed back from the combination of your words and movements; he was fully hard and flushed.

A low whine echoed in the room when you detached your hands from him and grabbed the lonely bottle from over the mattress instead; the moment its contents poured on your palm and released their exotic scent, a breathy, whisper of your nickname rose also, Chan staring down at what you were holding. He was crazy about this smell –this certain smell that had always awakened a comfortable haziness inside him, enough to make it impossible for him to stand being in the dorm when Felix was baking croissants; it almost acted like an aphrodisiac for him, you had yet to understand why, and it would be a lie if one were to say you didn’t abuse this little effect!

“Red if it gets too much, yellow if you need a breath.” You repeated his safe words, earning a nod, and went back to clasping your palms on his member just like before, copying the same motion again; he shut his eyes with content, sighing when your warmth finally touched him, drenched in a scent he loved dearly.

In a matter of seconds, he was already mewling, dripping with precum, disheveled locks being plunged into the pillows. His state only worsened when your fingers formed a thin ring and placed it right beneath the prominent edge of his tip and started the classic vibrating motion on its ablaze nerves; a motion he had grown used to, no matter how torturous it was. Giving him short intervals, you managed to earn a glimpse of his face when he looked back down on your hand, eyes narrow and cheeks flushed –his entire upper body flushed.

“Am I bothering you, Christopher?” Hearing his complete name, he clenched his jaw and shook his head violently, most displeased with the full stop of your hands.

“No, no mistress, keep going!” His words were rushed and hoarse as he took a second to recount what he had said, “Could you continue?” He restructured his sentence after witnessing the raise of your brow, and his heaving chest, his sweet, calm voice was just too good to be ignored.

“Ah!” You cooed, “Such a polite little pup, huh? You’ve learned how to earn my favor, haven’t you? Yes, you have, gorgeous!” He was already too far away from sanity to comprehend your praises as your once again vibrating fingers knocked moans out of him one after another, having his legs wrap around your hips with the constant, cruel edging.

He couldn’t decide between watching the scene of your connection or throwing his head back to slap whimpers at the headboard; when he landed eyes on your hands skillfully tapping on the underside of his aching length through palms, all he could think of was finishing right then and there –it was shameful, how sensitive he was to the littlest of touches.

“Hey!” Your stern voice brought him back to his senses, making him stop gritting his teeth and look back down at you, “No hurting yourself!” Your frown confused him, your words too, but when you gestured towards his hands with the raise of your brows, he got the message; he’d become so lost in the on and off of the pleasure in his gut that he’d forgotten to notice the sharp pain of his nails digging into the side of his elbow.

This was the best opportunity –no, excuse, to frustrate him in the ways he liked, or usually did; you could only hope he’d like it now, too. Sliding your hands off of his weeping length, you kept a hard gaze on his linear, shiny eyes and placed your hands limp on your thighs, palms upwards to avoid leaving the mess of lube and precum on yourself.

“I told you never to hurt yourself, didn’t I?” His flushed face fell at your words, catching the serious worry on your features, “Don’t you wanna be good, Christopher?”

God, he hated his name when it left your mouth! He hated being called by his name when it came to you, because it never meant anything good. He felt cold all of a sudden, without your touch or a trace of your affection, and being naked was much, much more embarrassing. His chest was already heaving.

“I do!” He managed to voice out, awkwardly hoarse, “I am good, Mistress; always!” After all this time, it still flustered him to call you that certain name.

“Then why did you ignore my explicit order?” Yes, you were making a much bigger deal out of this than it was; the marks weren’t even deep, he knew that, you knew that.

“It won’t happen again –you have my word, Mistress… Please—“ He stopped to gulp past his dry throat, still looking into your soul with pleading eyes; he looked so tired, yet he never once dreamed of protesting –not to your work anyway.

“Please what, boy?” Your question had its sharp edges –sharper than Chan liked it. Was there any affection in boy? None he could feel, no –it felt colder than his own name.

“I wanna be good for Mistress;” He breathed out with knotted brows, “can I have one more chance? Please, I want—“ His arms wiggled desperately in between the rope, “I need to cum—“ He could feel fire searing his ears, “Can I, please? Only Mistress knows how to give that to me…” Was it enough? Did he have to go deeper? He couldn’t tell based off of your blank expression.

“Hmm…” A smile creept on your face just as the hum was released from your throat, “Such good manners!” You praised, lifting one hand to lightly drag over his pale, beautifully shaped thigh and finally plant around his cock again –a short gasp being his response, “Such a well-behaved little cub!” He clearly twitched at that! Your palm dragged up and down his veins and he was once again, jelly at your touch, “Who taught this little pup how to be so good and polite?” His moan interrupted your question when your other hand wrapped two fingers around the sensitive edge of his tip. One second he’d push his hips into the mattress to desert your touch, and the other, he’d push up to pump into your airy fist. “Christopher!”

“Mistress did!” His shaky answer came only after your call brought him back to earth and snapped his eyes open. “Only Mistress can tell pup to be good –he always listens to you, only you Mistress—oh, fuck, don’t stop –please!” His sweet voice became high-pitched whines as soon as the ring of fingers around his tip began vibrating again; squirming and spasming uncontrollably, he began throwing his hips up to feel more than the brush of your thumb on his base and the vibration of your fingers on his moistened head. “No—no no, ’m gonna cum—is it okay? Can—“ The hoarse groans piercing his mewls wouldn’t let him finish his thoughts, and your fingers weren’t helping his intellect either!

The bulging veins on his stretched back neck were ripe for marking and the way his pale skin had become many shades redder out of frustration and tension could only mean one thing: he’s few seconds away from covering his stomach with white.

What was cuter than normal, day-to-day Chris, was this Chris; the one writhing and begging and whining under the gentlest touch you could grant him –the one actually able to cum from that meager touch! His voice wouldn’t lower, making way for shameless babbles and incoherent pleas, and you just wanted to put him –and your cramping hand– out of misery.

“It’s okay, Little,” You murmured, still able to reach his ear from between his own noises, “you can cum in five…” Hearing the start of his countdown, Chan lowered his head to look at you, just like all the times he was close; he wanted to see you, and more importantly, he wanted you to see him lose it all. “Four…”

“Count faster!” His fingers were now somehow wrapped in the thick threads of the rope and tugged roughly; you could feel the way the mattress dipped eagerly behind you as Chan’s feet pressed on it with curled toes.

“Three…” You smirked, knowing full well his need for ‘being good’ is way more prioritized to his body than getting what he wants. He could always take what you gave him –every single time; he loved and yearned for the care that came after his success, he wouldn’t change it with anything. “Two…” A small, ecstatic mewl left him when your thumb caressed his slit rhythmically, body trembling out of the little stimulation that was successfully driving him insane.

“One.”

He managed to keep his teary eyes open as his mouth fell apart wider and wider for a scratchy moan to swim into the room with nothing holding it back whatsoever; a big, irritating knot came finally undone in his burning stomach and then there it was, hot strings of white connecting the skin of his purple tip to his abs, your fingers still delicately wrapped around his twitching cook.

There was a gentle thump when he let his head fall on the pillow and the way his chest rose and fell seemed kind of painful; he, on the other hand, looked as blissed out as he possibly could, sweat gleaming on his temples.

“Everything okay?” You massaged his member carefully to help it soften sooner and when your hands eventually left him, he huffed out.

“I’m good, all good.” He panted, glancing down at you lazily, catching your satisfied smile.

His mind kept slipping in and out of reality, and the next thing he felt was the warmth of a kiss on his forehead as cold, wet wipes danced on his belly.

“You did so well.” You whispered, taking advantage of the close vicinity, “Take a nap. I’ll order some food and we can watch something later before bed.” His hazy eyes stared up at you, nodding when your fingers slid over the knots over his biceps to rid him of the restraints.

“Is noodle soup okay?” You asked as your steps lead you to the chest to put back the items you’ve retrieved earlier, “Or maybe we should get tomato?” Turning around, you were met with the unconscious figure of your boyfriend, half covered with white sheets, face as puffy and soft as spring clouds.

You couldn’t help but coo and return to his side to pull the sheets higher over his naked body, and when he made no movement at your touch, you just knew he was knocked out cold; and that meant he’d be up in two-three hours, hungry as a starved wolf, and he will need any kind of food he can find –so soup is probably not the best idea to satisfy Bang Christopher Chan!

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi y’all<3 here’s a new section of the gallavich as seen from alternate POVs fic, this time featuring lip!!!! (i wanted to wait til after the ✨lickey drama✨ in the new ep before posting, but then i decided against it bc i didn’t want to re-write this lol)

i started to have way too many feelings while writing this so it’s a little lengthy and contemplative, but rest assured it features some domestic fluff/ian and mickey being disgustingly in love- i hope u enjoy<3

--

Lip shuffled into the kitchen of the Gallagher house, opening the fridge door and reaching past the clanging beer bottles to grab a metal soda can on the way back of the shelf, hearing a faint fizz escape as he popped the tab. It was late, the moonlight streaming in across the kitchen through the worn curtains and pooling on the kitchen floor— after Tami had crashed in their bed at the apartment after a long day at work and Freddie was sleeping soundly in his crib, Lip had come by the Gallagher house, without really knowing why. He just needed to clear his head, to get some distance from Tami and all her relentless nagging about moving and apartment hunting and his colossally obvious fuck-up with the bikes— he just needed some space, some less stifling air to breathe outside of their half-packed apartment crammed with boxes lining the walls.

It was funny; no matter how much energy Lip had poured into he and Tami’s first apartment, into painting the walls and agonizing over their kitchen backsplash like it was his first-born son, whenever Lip thought about home, whenever he felt that pit of uneasiness growing in his stomach and he just needed a place where he could lie back on a couch and loosen the knots in his shoulders and breathe in familiar air that would fill him up, instead of the too-clean smell of Tami’s flowery potpourri that she’d placed on the expensive coffee table in their living room— Lip always found his feet leading him across the slabs of sidewalk and past the chain link fences towards the Gallagher house, no matter the time of night. He had only been in the house for a few minutes before he felt the tight-knit something in his chest begin to unfurl— he didn’t even want to start to think about what was lodged there. This had been a crazy fucking couple of months, and he wasn’t going to start getting sappy about selling the house now, not when they were so close. He’d dug a hole too deep this time, and he needed the money. He couldn’t fuck up again— not with Freddie to take care of. No matter what it cost him.

So that’s how Lip ended up sitting at the Gallagher kitchen table at 2 a.m. on a Thursday night, sipping at an overly-sugary pop that was no substitute for what he really wanted to be drinking right now—he could imagine how it would warm the insides of his stomach, how it would cushion whatever weird fucking ache was in his chest right now. But— no. Fuck no. He wasn’t going to do that now. Everything about selling the house, about moving on, was about getting his shit straight— about leaving the bad parts of this sagging roof and these stained floorboards behind him.

Lip slouched in the wooden kitchen chair, scrolling on his phone and finally letting out a breath he didn’t really know he had been holding in all day, when he heard a creaking of footsteps padding at the top of the stairs— too heavy to be Liam or Debbie, too careful and unfumbling to be Frank dragging himself through the house. Lip flickered a glance up from where he was sitting and met Ian’s eyes as he turned the corner of the stairs, his skin looking translucent and overly pale in the moonlight like the ginger motherfucker he was.

Ian nodded his head towards Lip in acknowledgement, like he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that his older brother with a whole ass family and apartment of his own was decidedly squatting in the kitchen of his childhood home, drinking a pathetic-looking can of Dr. Pepper. Ian slid open the fridge door, grabbing a beer and swiftly popping the cap off by knocking the bottle on the side of the counter—and then in an instant it became one of those quiet, familiar nights when it was just Lip and Ian in the kitchen, sometimes letting easy conversations flow between them, but other times, just like this— just sinking into each other’s presence in the silence. Ian’s shadow mingling with the moonlight on the kitchen floor immediately snapped the atmosphere from lonely and self-pitying and stale to something lighter, something familiar—like the worn, buttery leather of a baseball glove that fits just right.

Instantly Lip was brought back to so many nights before this, of he and Ian orbiting each other in the kitchen at night— when they were kids and would creep down the stairs and eat fistfuls of junk food that Fiona had forbidden, or steal warm sips of the open beers Frank had left on the counter. This was where they’d processed Monica’s return, late at night while they passed a cigarette between them and Ian hadn’t tried to hide the tears that were freely rolling down his freckled cheeks, back when they were both just confused kids who clung to each other— this was where they’d processed Frank’s alcoholic meltdowns, too many to count, and all the love and loss and confusion that had passed between these walls, all the collateral damage of living in this fucking neighborhood. And Lip felt a sudden pang in his gut, sharp and present, when he realized that it might be one of the last nights that he and Ian got to spend in the kitchen like this.

Lip immediately shoved the thought down with all his might, a hydraulic press squeezing out any sentimentality. He had to do this— for Freddie, for Tami. He had to man up and move on, even if it meant physically wounding the crumbling walls to ease the pain of the parallel jagged wounds somewhere deep in his chest, or screaming and shouting until veins popped in his neck, so loud that he knew he was radiating his pain outwards like a fucking atomic bomb.

But tonight, Lip had no more fight left to give. He just wanted to let these four walls hold him one last time, without even realizing that was what he had needed until this moment. Ian slid a chair out from the kitchen table and sat beside him, leaning back and dragging out a slow, sleepy breath.

Lip cleared his throat, softly. “Where’s Mick?”

“Passed out upstairs.” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lip raised his eyebrow, almost involuntarily, and Ian immediately jutted his chin up in a half-nod, an affirmation, as he leaned back even farther and took the first sip of his beer. No, he wasn’t manic and yes, he was fine. After all the years that had passed since Ian was still figuring this shit out, Lip sometimes forgot that checking in on him wasn’t really his job, not anymore.

Lip took another sip from his soda can, a movement to fill the easy silence. “How was your guys’ night?”

Ian shrugged non-committally, his shoulders still slumped back in the chair, his lips puckered around the mouth of the bottle as he stared off into the distance at the peeling kitchen wallpaper. “Eh. It was fine. I dragged Mickey out to try and make more gay friends. Ended up being a mistake.”

Lip held back a laugh, taking a sip from his own drink to mask his smirk. He had ample auditory evidence that Mickey was plenty as gay as Ian, but it was still hard to imagine Mickey leaning into all of this shit— Ian used to wear golden underwear and frequent gay clubs and go to social justice brunches, but none of that really seemed like it was Mickey’s scene.

“Oh yeah? Mickey not the easiest person to befriend?” Lip said it with his eyebrows raised, like the joke was obvious.

Ian looked up at him, like he’d been snapped out of a sleepy train of thought, staring earnestly like Lip’s jab had flown right over his head. “Actually, it was kind of my fault. I was the one who made us leave this dinner party thing we got invited to. They were all talking shit about the Southside, about how they hated their families, and I couldn’t really… connect with them, I guess.”

Lip pondered that, taking a breath and stretching his arms above his head. God, he was sore— he hadn’t even been fucking working, aside from hauling those bikes from place to place to avoid the cops, but all the pent up stress and tension was starting to linger in his bones.

“Yeah, it was the same for me. In college, or whatever. Joaquin was the only person I really talked to, because he got all the shit I was always going through.”

Ian nodded contemplatively—but he was staring off into space again, almost like he was half asleep. Lip took another sip of his soda. He could bring up the house shit again right now—it was all that they’d been talking about for the past few weeks—but for some reason it felt too raw, too intense to bring up right now, like it would cut through this peaceful moment, this island in the vast sea of uncertainty Lip knew he was bringing down on all of their heads. So in this moment, he opted for smoother waters.

“Why’d you guys go looking for new friends, anyways?”

Ian finally broke out of whatever drowsy, pensive trance he’d been in, his lips sloping into a smile. “Mickey kept giving me shit for always doing what you do, after breakfast today. I figured… I don’t know, I just got all pissy and tried to prove him wrong.”

Lip felt the corner of his mouth tick upward at that. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Ian grinned, and held out his beer bottle, stretching his arm across the table. Lip tapped it with his soda can with a light “Cheers,” then took the final sip. He crushed the can to a disk on the table, pressing it down firmly with the heel of his palm and watching the sides compress. Ian’s eyes were cast downward at the table, watching his movements.

“How’s stuff with you and Tami going, all the packing and shit?”

Lip turned the flattened can on its side, contemplatively spinning it like a top on the table and fidgeting with it between his fingers.

“Honestly? I’m fucking exhausted.”

He could hear the breathiness as he said it, how deflated his own voice sounded. And Lip knew could make himself say more— he knew if anyone would get it, Ian would.

“It’s just… fuck, man.”

He looked up and Ian was staring directly at him now, his expression unguarded— listening. Listening like he always did in these moments. Lip let out a low chuckle, trying to shield his own vulnerability.

“How’d we get so fucking old? How is this… it, y’know? Finally leaving the fucking nest, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, placing his beer on the table. “I think you already left the nest when you had a baby and moved into an apartment with your girlfriend.”

Lip shrugged, fiddling with the crushed can again between his fingertips. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

“And you are the one making us do this, for the record.”

If Ian’s tone wasn’t as playful or as tentative as it was, Lip would have worried that he was upset— but judging by Ian’s still-comfortable slouch and his steady expression, Lip knew he was fine— he was weathering the storm, just like Lip was.

Ian leaned forward.

“Hey. Mickey was giving me shit—but it is true. You’re my best friend, even though you can be a fucking asshole sometimes.” Ian’s lips curved into a crooked smile. “Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Ian’s eyes flickered around the kitchen as he spoke, and Lip heard everything that was unsaid. Even though you’re kicking us out of the house. Even though you’re changing everything. Even though there isn’t a focal point to our lives anymore.

You’re my best friend.

And Lip felt that pang in his gut again, sharp like a dagger.

**

He’d said it before, and he’d had no problem saying it over and over again in Mickey’s absence, up until the months before the wedding— Ian did always go a little bit “loco” when Mickey was around.

Which, fuck him, I guess, for caring about his little brother with an undiagnosed mental illness who was off living in the Milkovich House of Horrors slash meth lab with Mickey fucking Milkovich, the bully with greasy hair who Lip wrote papers for in high school and who now was a literal, actual, godforsaken pimp. Lip had seen a teenage Ian bruised and drunk and curled into himself crying over Mickey too many times to ever think that this shit was a good idea— and years later, when Ian almost threw away everything, almost threw away stability and sanity and his fucking family to follow Mickey Milkovich across the Mexican border, Lip knew he had to say something, even though it was an unspoken rule that he and Ian didn’t really critique each other’s love lives since the Mandy-and-Karen fiascos of years past.

So he’d said it, that day in the kitchen, after Ian had returned on a Greyhound bus and they were still processing the dull pain of Monica’s loss— and Ian had taken the feedback with a closed-lip smile, like his head was somewhere else, as he picked at the corner of the beer bottle label with his thumb.

And then less than a year later Mickey was released anyways, and ended up standing in a tank top and boxers in the middle of the Gallagher living room, when the house was crawling with strangers and Freddie was barely two weeks old— and Lip had taken in a sharp breath, a bundle of hesitant nerves sprouting for whatever the fuck this situation was going to become; but not one that he could really give attention to, with all the other bullshit that was pulling at his focus, like the desperate screeching of his newborn kid and the mascara running down Tami’s face.

Later that night, when he’d had a spare moment to breathe and Tami was finally calmed down and sleeping in their cramped bedroom, he’d run into Ian in the moonlit hallway as he was stumbling his way out of the bathroom, drowsily rubbing his eyes with his hair sticking up. And Lip had stopped him with a whisper, placing a hand to tap Ian’s shoulder as Ian blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey. So uh… I see Mickey’s out.”

He’d seen the defenses immediately raise in Ian’s eyes, like he knew what Lip was going to say next.

“Yeah.” Ian had said it soft, quietly, like he was afraid of someone waking.

You sure that’s a good idea? Lip could feel the words itching on the tip of his tongue, and he was aching to say them again, all these years later— and yes, maybe his head was so wrapped up in his own shit that he didn’t really have the authority to be doling out relationship advice to his little brother right now, but so much of this reminded him of things that had happened in the past, of Mickey Milkovich crashing on Ian’s bedroom floor until he inevitably couldn’t anymore, until the pressure cooker of his presence mingled with Ian’s inevitably exploded— or at least that was how Lip saw it. There were too many wounds, and they were bound to leave scars— Lip was honestly surprised as fuck that the Gallagher house was Mickey’s first stop out of prison, after everything that had gone down between the two of them.

But, for Ian’s sake, Lip tried to reign it in—despite the fact that they’d just been commiserating about “being in love with crazy people” as they crouched on the living room stairs the night before as Ian sipped on a beer, sputtering out a “fuck no” when Lip asked if he was going to marry Mickey (which was an equally as batshit question as if Lip was going to marry Tami). Despite all of this— now that Mickey was back, Lip could see that this was something Ian wanted, that this was something Ian was treading carefully into, one more time. He was definitely stronger now; even Lip could see that.

“He gonna be hanging around here a while?”

Ian had given a gentle, sleepy smile. “Yeah. Think so.”

And Lip had just reached out, and clapped Ian’s sleep-warmed body on the shoulder. “Sounds good, man.”

Ian had walked the remaining length of the hallway, opening the bedroom door— and in the shadows, Lip could see that Mickey was curled on the old, concave mattress of Ian’s single bed that he’d slept on since they were kids— and Ian had lifted the thin blanket and pressed up next to him, the mattress sinking beneath their collective weight, settling in and pressing a kiss to the top of a snoring Mickey’s head without a second thought. Huh.

That was the beginning of Lip starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, this time with Mickey would be different— and it was. As Mickey started to become a daily fixture in the Gallagher house, constantly pinned to Ian’s side, Lip had noticed how something solid had shifted—they weren’t reckless kids anymore, for starters. He hadn’t really seen Mick and Ian physically together since Ian was catapulting off the deep end, in the weeks after Ian had gotten dragged away by the P.I.s and Mickey had gotten locked up for some crazy fucking stunt trying to murder Sammy. Things were too intense then, too technicolor—for some reason, Lip thought Mickey being back meant that they’d return to being that way.

But now here was this guy, placing a gentle hand on Ian’s chest and saying “Woah, wait a minute” to protect Ian from the batshit P.O. that had just barged through the door—and Lip couldn’t help but realize that was something that he would have done to protect Ian, in a universe where Mickey was still behind bars.

After then, Lip just kept seeing it— the ways that Mickey showed up for Ian. Not even in the ways that he used to, like forcing Ian to take his meds back when everything was uncertain and Ian was slipping through their fingers like sand in a sieve; but in a more solid, adult way, in a way that made Ian buzz whenever he was around him, in a way that made Ian happier and lighter. And maybe it was just the sex—part of it had to be the fucking sex, considering how loud they always were— but Lip realized, after a couple of weeks of Mickey’s presence in the house before their whole eventual engagement fiasco, that Mickey was Ian’s friend, in addition to all the other things he was. After all the years of uncertainty, they’d finally grown the fuck up— Mickey was someone who brought out the best in Ian, and it was like Ian had been waiting for this moment, for Mickey by his side, before he could fully and totally bloom.

And it was weird how emotional that made Lip— after seeing Ian as a hollow shell in a jumpsuit pushing garbage cans around a college campus, or pretending to be someone he wasn’t who wore patterned button-up shirts and threw around fucking useless five-dollar words that Lip didn’t understand like “gender identity” and “intersectionality”— Ian had finally made it, beyond being the bruised, scrawny kid getting sexually abused by a creepy 30 year old man in the back room of a mini-mart, or getting high off his ass every night and starving himself to fit into a golden thong, or wearing a baggy janitor suit with dark circles under his eyes and pallid skin. Ian had done that shit on his own, and made himself into something in Mickey’s absence, sure— but so much of him being the full, happy person he was in this moment was because of Mickey, and Lip could see that now.

Ian was himself— he wasn’t a shadow anymore.

And that was why Lip had said he thought he should marry Mickey, in the end— because there was no doubt in his mind that Mickey Milkovich wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon.

Lip could still see it now, in the way that Ian was lounging comfortably in the living room, like he had his whole life— but now Mickey was resting just as comfortably beside him. It was a few weeks after that night in the kitchen, and Lip had just pitched the FOR SALE sign in the Gallagher front yard— now everyone was huddled in the living room, for what they now knew was one of their last lingering nights in this space. Liam was sitting next to Lip, pressed into his side, seeking the comfort that Lip knew he needed through all of these massive fucking changes— Franny was playing on the floor and Debbie was sitting beside her, and across the room Ian and Mickey were pressed side-by-side on the fraying loveseat, scrolling through the lease document for their new apartment on the battered laptop. They were murmuring things to each other that Lip couldn’t really make out— but Mickey was pressed against Ian, slouching into him slightly, and Ian’s eyes were light. In his flicker of a glance towards them, Lip noticed that Mickey was playing with Ian’s hand, swiping a finger over his wedding ring, as Ian scrolled through the paperwork and started to read all the contract information out loud— and Lip smiled to himself as he tried to tune out all the sappy bullshit that was going on in that corner of the room.

Ian was going to be just fine.

**

Hour later Lip strode out the door to the front porch, a cigarette he’d bummed off of Ian wrapped in his fist— he didn’t smoke anymore, especially not under the same roof as Tami, but there was something about the gravity of this night, of the flimsy red and white sign rooted in the front yard, that made Lip’s fingertips itch for a cigarette and made his brain buzz with the want of nicotine to dull the sharp edges of everything he was feeling—for smoke to float in front of his face while he sat on the front steps just one more time.  

He perched on the front steps as the sun was just starting to set, the fish-scale shadows of the chain link fence encroaching further and further into the yard as he flicked at his lighter.

He heard a light cough from somewhere in front of him— and saw that Mickey was outside too, blowing smoke out of his mouth and leaning against the fence in the front yard facing the house. Lip nodded at him in acknowledgement, then took the first drag. Fuck, he’d needed this.

“You gonna miss this place?”

 Mickey said it into the open air, like he isn’t really talking to Lip— his eyes were off in the distance, staring at the paint-chipped front façade of the house. Which was fucking bullshit—why would Mickey be staring absentmindedly, almost fucking wistfully, at the Gallagher house?

It’s not like he and Mickey didn’t talk— they definitely did, pragmatically flinging banter across the kitchen to each other at breakfast when coordinating rides for Liam or grocery list items when Debbie was off at work, existing in the same space every morning— and Mickey helped him haul literal tons of iron when he’d helped him steal the bikes, had haggled over his cut. But never like this—never with any weight, never in a way that was this casual, or this familial, about fucking feelings.

Part of that was probably because it was hard as fuck to worm your way into the Gallagher family—as wide open as their door always seemed to be, with people filtering in and out and crashing on hallway floors or the lumpy couch, this house only continued to function because of its nucleus— because of Lip and Ian and Carl and Debbie and Fiona and Liam and yes, even Frank. Everyone else was a passerby, an impermanent blip crossing through the way station; Jimmy-Steve, Sean, Carl’s slew of girls, Mandy and Karen.

Monica.

None of them were Gallaghers— none of them considered this place to be home, or got all the privileges that came with that. The Gallaghers, the real Gallaghers, had seen every one of these people come and go— and something slippery suddenly crept into Lip’s realization that despite all the odds, despite all of his doubts about him—Mickey had chosen to stay close to these four walls just as much as Lip had.

“Mickey’s family.” Ian had said it over a mouthful of bacon at breakfast a few weeks ago, and Lip had immediately shot him down; but maybe there was some truth to what Ian had said, some truth to the oddly unfailing consistency to Mickey’s ten years. Which meant that maybe…

Maybe it was time to make a fucking peace offering, or whatever.

Lip hummed in acknowledgement to Mickey’s question, pulling himself out of his train of thought.

“Hey. Mick.”

Mickey looked up at where Lip was leaning on the porch, his brows furrowing like he was bracing himself for a confrontation. “Yeah?”

“My head’s been too far up my ass the past couple of months to say it, but, uh. I’m glad you’re family, y’know?”

He’d been passively thinking it for months— but he’d never said it to Mickey, never this directly. He hoped Mickey got it, without brushing it off or shooting him down with some snarky fucking comment like he always did. Lip meant it— he was glad, he was grateful, he was ready to let Mickey Milkovich keep being a part of his fucked up familial life. And he hoped that Mickey saw that.

Mickey just rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette—but he didn’t say anything in reply, not for a moment. And then:

“You’re as sappy as your fucking brother, Phillip.”

[jonnnysuh]

Never Not - Park Jinyoung

Pairing: idol!Jinyoung x gender neutral reader

Summary: Your bad day is turned around when your childhood best friend, Jinyoung, returns to your hometown and takes you on a tour of your favourite memories together.

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: suggested sexual experience

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hi guysssss. I took a small break from tumblr bc I got super busy with work. I haven’t written something like this in a while, but I actually loved how it turned out. I recommend listening to Never Not by Lauv to get into the mood <33

Effort was hard to make these days. Even the way you walked had an unmistakable slouch. Your exhaustive strides were just a shallow reminder that there used to be a hop in your step. Five more minutes and you were free from the shackles of work. Free to figure out what to make for dinner, and appease the gurgles of your stomach.The seconds on the point of sale system didn't seem to move fast enough as you folded the customer's final item and shoved it into a bag.

When you were a kid, no one told you how exhausting being an adult was, and thus it became something to look forward to. You were so caught up on getting that first kiss, sneaking out to go to parties, seeing people that your parents didn't approve of, that you didn't realize that life didn't slow down from there. It was like you blinked, and you were no longer 16. Instead, you were twenty-something perpetually feeling like life was just an endless pit of "what ifs" and building up the courage to make something of yourself. Another mindless "Have a good day." escaped your lips as you bid a customer bye for the nth time that day. You wondered how many of your years would waste away telling others to have a good day, when you yourself hadn't had one in a while.

You pressed your fingers against your temple to sooth a small growing headache. Working in retail for as long as you had, you knew that the s-curved line of people didn't stop for your discomfort. With a fake smile on your face, you welcomed the next few customers as your eyes wandered around the store looking for the person who was going to take over for the next hour. Fifteen minutes past the hour, your replacement finally came. Externally, you wanted to scream and ask them what took you so long? but you knew that would only make you as good as the worst customer. Graciously, you nodded at them, before walking away to the back room to fetch your things and head out.

...

You stood against the wall at the bus shelter shivering from the cool summer breeze that was disguising just how rapidly autumn was truly coming. Today probably wasn't the best day to forget your coat.  You rubbed your arms for warmth, taking micro footsteps in place.  The pain in your feet made you romanticize the comfort of the sturdy old bus seats as a place of rest. You felt your phone in your pocket vibrate, but you let it ring out. You were determined to get a seat on this bus. A deep sigh escaped you as you surveyed the density of the crowd on the platform- the ride home was definitely going to be longer than usual. When the bus arrived, you queued behind a long line of people. Your phone rang a second time, at this point the crowd was getting larger and you knew you weren't going to get a seat on this bus.

PRIVATE CALLER 

"Hello?" you pressed your phone to your ear. Sometimes your mother used phone booths to reach you, so you expected her voice to be on the other end of the line. "I'm offended I had to call you twice for you to pick up."  The voice was much deeper, and the delivery much more lighthearted than anything that would've came out of your mother.  The absence of a greeting was distinct and direct, but no matter, you knew exactly who this was.

You felt the tenseness of your shoulders drop with just the sound of this voice. "If I had definitely known it was you, I wouldn't have picked up, Mr. Private caller." you jest with the phone  pressed between your ear and the crook of your shoulder.

"You know, I was gonna suggest that I pick you up, but just for that comment, I change my mind."

You poke your tongue at your cheek, coyly. For all the changes that occurred in your life, for some reason you could depend on Jinyoung's quick wit and humour to hit the spot even after all this time.

"That's fine, I just finished work so I was thinking of just going home anyways."  You had no idea he was even back in South Korea. Last you heard, he was on tour somewhere in North America. More than that, you couldn't even remember when the last time you actually talked was. You were curious about what he was up to these days, but you you knew any hint of urgency in your voice would lead to incessant teasing on his part. The line progressed slightly, but you still didn't feel any closer to the entrance of the bus.

  "I'm about to get on a bus home." 

"Well, don't get on." 

"If I don't get on then you're gonna have to repay me for the fare I paid to even get here." You eyed the bus reaching its capacity, and stepped aside. You twisted your fingers in hope that he was being 100% serious, otherwise you were going to have to wait out for the 6:30pm bus.

"I can't believe the cost of your attention is only $2. Do better." the voice quipped. 

"Okay, Jinyoung I guess I'll just get on, then." you threatened, although you had no intention of boarding the departing bus.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for your fare. Just wait for me."

...

The sky had darkened tenfold since you hung up from Jinyoung's impromptu call. The streetlights glowed gold against the lavender backdrop of the sky. You sat on the bus shelter bench, swinging your feet back and forth as you waited for him. If he took even a minute longer, you vowed to somehow become the president of the Park Jinyoung hate club. Of course, you wouldn't actually, but the idea became more appealing the longer you waited. 

You weren't one to go on spontaneous outings- at least not since your teenage years. Recently, you followed the strict routine of work, home, sleep, and to stray from it seemed pointless. But the fact that he even thought of you when he came back home to South Korea was still not something you could wrap your head around.

In the distance, a glow of headlights appeared, stopping perfectly adjacent to your bus stop. The window rolled down, and there appeared Jinyoung's face in all its glory. To say all the words in your vocabulary disappeared would be an understatement. A part of you doubted he would even follow through. Without missing a beat, he returned a look to you. "You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get in the car?"

...

Your backpack was sitting atop your lap, bouncing with the movement of the car. Jinyoung hung one hand over the steering wheel. The orange and purple of the sky twisting, and creating a brand new colour that only seemed to grace the skies at this hour. The music was unidentifiable, but the volume was low enough that you didn't even bother trying to figure it out.

"So what'd you do today?" he asked. 

"I worked, I told you that." you replied, matter-of-factly.

"And how was it?"

"I honestly can't tell the difference between this week and last week. Or even last month. Same old, same old. Annoying customers, stale lunch, forgot my jacket at home even though it's 15 fucking degrees outside." 

"Do you still work at that clothing store you started at when we were 20?"

  Your eyes shifted, following the ever-changing scenery of the highway. No idea where he was bringing you, and yet you were brought to comfort by Jinyoung's habits.  You knew he didn't have a drug deal, or a random party planned.  Jinyoung was always the type to be home before midnight. He was a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, but you weren't completely fooled. You knew he could bend the rules if it seemed to serve him.

  "That exact same one."

 "Anything else?"

  You looked at him, the shock settling in that he was really right next to you-- no longer just a figure on a billboard that you used to know. The changes of his physicality were subtle; his face was more defined, but his cheeks still carried the baby fat that had been there since childhood. The shadow of his facial hair loomed on his smooth skin. The mole on the top of his lip, not necessarily gone, but faded. He looked older, but the aura of his presence remained the same.

"And then I was dumb enough to get into a car with a stranger because he said he'd give me $2."

Jinyoung side eyed you, causing you to erupt in laughter. His glare was also unchanging. "Stranger? Your memory's fading already?" He shook his head disappointedly. "I thought you still had a few good years left."

  "Oh yeahhhhhh. Sorry Jinyoungie. Didn't recognize you with all the fame." you pinched and pulled on his ear- both things a relic of your grade school years. When you were kids, you never let him forget the age gap. Granted, it was only 3 days, but that gave you the freedom to refer to him however you pleased, while he was stuck with the honorifics.

As you let go, the curve of his ear flushed red. "OWW.” he cried, swatting your hand away. “You’re lucky I’m driving otherwise I would pull your hair.”

Being raised with Jinyoung meant that you were inseparable but kind of in the worst way. If Jinyoung got  a good mark on a test, his parents would immediately flaunt it to yours. If you wanted to sneak out, he was on your tail telling you to go back home. And if he knew you liked someone, then that person would know soon enough by the words of Jinyoung. All of that warranted ear pulling, and if you did something in retaliation he would pull your hair.

He was one of the few people in your life, who encapsulated a certain time of your life.  The time in your life when you were young, and the world felt so big and everything was possible.

  The car rocked back and forth as it shifted into the elevated ramp of a parking lot. Your eyes widened as you realized where you were.  He lingered in his seat before popping his seatbelt off and exiting the car. You followed him, swinging the passenger door open.

  "So you randomly called me because you wanted to hang out at the...convenience store?" you gestured to the old, orangey building. The bricks were chipped, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the outside through the big glass window.  You remember the days when you and Jinyoung would sit on the parking blocks and split a bag of chips until you were chased off the property by the owner. He pulled on the store door, pressing his back to it and letting you enter first. 

"Well, I wasn't going to come here until you started yanking my ears. That's when I knew you were hungry."

Without stopping, you weaved through the store until you reached aisle 3- the snack aisle had become a home to you and Jinyoung when you were growing up. In grade school, you were both fearful of what was beyond the boundaries of your home and school so you indulged in after school snacks at the convenience to talk about the latest happenings in your life. As you aged, it became the place of solace after exams, or the meetup location for last minute plans.

  He picked up a package of gummy worms, and shook them in your face. "Do you remember what happened the last time we ate theseeee?" Jinyoung smirked. For a moment, you were taken aback by how much he had grown. In your teens, you and Jinyoung met eye to eye. Now, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to be taken seriously.

  You crossed your arms, "Yeah, we ate them in the parking lot and you made me confess who I had a crush on." 

"Chan, right?" 

You nodded, with a sulk as you reminisced. "That wasn't fair."

 "Why? Do you still have a crush on him?" 

"I haven't thought about him in so long. You really think I'd have a lingering crush on a guy I haven't seen in years?"

Jinyoung shrugged, and shifted his feet. "You had a huge crush on him, though. You even stared at him like this." He rested his palm to his cheek, letting out a deep sigh while trying to maintain an enamoured expression. You snorted, hitting him on the chest. "You'd write his name all over your notebooks AND you bullied me into giving you one of my new ones." he added.

You let out a belly laugh. "And then I wrote his name all over that one too."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "They were premium quality notebooks. My aunt sent me them from the states!"

 "You had a kabillion of them. Besides, you pestered me for-like-ever to know who I liked, but you never even told me who you had a crush on." You grabbed the bag of gummy worms from his hand and placed it in your shopping basket. Your attention shifted, as you realized you should be in search of your favourite chocolates. You knew that you were far too old to be eating junk food for dinner, but there was something familiar about being hyped up on food that you knew would rot your insides. Your eyes landed on the top row of the wall, and before you could grab your favourite chocolates, Jinyoung stripped it from the wall and dropped it into the basket. He piled on a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then you both ventured to the drink refrigerators.

  Both of you stared deeply at your drink options. On each level of the fridge, stood several different colourful drinks. If you knew Jinyoung, then you knew he would pick a Coke- it was something he swore by in your younger years. You hummed, mentally deciding between an iced tea or a vitamin water.  You weren't sure why it bothered you when Jinyoung picked up a Sprite, but you tried to hide your dismay. With an ice tea in hand, and a basket full of both of your favourite things, you made your way to the cashier.

  At the last moment, Jinyoung placed a bright yellow umbrella on the checkout counter. He looked down at you, surely, “You never know when it’s gonna rain.”

...

The following car ride to your next destination only lasted about 3 minutes before he parked on the side of the road and dragged you down the street, with the plastic bag full of your foods in hand. 

"I should've known you were going to bring me here." you said, strolling down the familiar gravel pathway towards your elementary school. All colour in the sky had disappeared now, finding it hard to see anything but the outline of each other and some features.

  Both of you settled on the grass field, onlooking the tall school building that was the foundation of your formal years. As soon as you opened the bag of chips, you found yourselves deep in conversation, talking about what life had been for him the last few years. You couldn't help but be in awe when he explained the rush he got when he got on stage, and how he got anxiety when he thought he wasn’t doing his best.  The candidacy of his thoughts drew you in and you were surprised that he trusted you with his secrets. 

All these years, you had always wondered what he was up to, if he was living a life far better than the one he left at home.  To everyone else, he was this huge pop star that had travelled the world 3 times over, but to you, he was your best friend who left home at 16. You had seen him through the bad hair phases, the adolescent temper tantrums, the voice cracks, and the questionable fashion choices both your parents had put you in.

  He leaned back on his arms as he gazed at the school. "Are you afraid of change?" You were silent for a moment as you thought. "On a scale of 1-10?" you rocked your head back and forth. "It's a 15."

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. You held your legs to your chest, and looked at him. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and looked smugly in the other direction. "Heyyy." you poked him repeatedly. "You can't just ask me that and not tell me why."

He enclosed his hand around your finger, forcing your poking to come to a halt. It felt like he was studying your face. Never in your life had you ever felt like you were under the scope of Jinyoung's gaze. The darkness of the sky acted as a mask, hiding your blushing face.

"It was the last thing I asked you before I left." he admitted. "I asked you that when things were about to change big time for us… I always wondered if you resented me for leaving you behind."

  The last day before Jinyoung left to become a full-time trainee, you two snuck on to this very same field. Both of you ran across the grass, picking up dandelions; believing that if you gathered enough and blew on them, that they would fuel your wishes.

  “You thought I could resent you?” He nodded. “Well, for starters, I hate your guts.” You replied sarcastically, causing him to look at the ground with embarrassment and your face softened at the sight of it.

  “You know what I wished for on all of those dandelions, Jinyoung?”

 “Not to fail the math exam.” Even in a soft moment, he couldn’t help but be sly. “No!” You exclaimed. 

“Well, you should’ve. You got a 48.” He sensed your killer look on him. “So what’d you wish for?”

You played with your fingers. You thought you’d take this secret to the grave. “I wished that you’d be successful in whatever you chose to do.” His eyes enlarged, alarmed at your confession. “but maybe I should’ve wished for the math thing.”

  Jinyoung giggled, inching closer to you so your legs were pressed against each other. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked. He smiled with the side of his mouth, shaking his head. 

“I wished that I’d always find my way back home.” “Oh goddd.” You gagged. “you’re so corny.”

 “What about you, huh? You used your wish on me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the school playground. 

“Hey, I might just be the reason why you’re famous.” You fought back.

You flipped your phone over, 7:53, the brightness of it only barely illuminating the dark. You thought about what you would be doing at this moment if you weren’t here, if he hadn’t picked you up.  Mmm probably falling asleep to a tv show. Probably dreading tomorrow. Probably not as happy.

"But what did I say? You know… the first time you asked me that question?” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how 16-year-old you answered.

  "You said you were excited to see who we were going to become.” The words of your younger self were so hopeful, yet your current self felt hopeless. Your expression sank, and Jinyoung offered a small smile to revive it. He felt guilty having asked you the question in the first place.

You sat in silence for a bit, dwelling on the excitement for life that you once had. Where was it? And how could you get it back?

“I feel like I’ve let myself down. I don’t even know who I am now.”

Jinyoung blinked slowly, watching his childhood best friend crumble. He rested a hand on your shoulder.  "I just look at you, and in so many ways you're the same. I still know what makes you laugh, and the way you say things. I can still pick out your favourite snacks, and know you’re gonna pull my ears when I do something to piss you off.” he yanked on yours softly. "Everything about you feels just how I left you. I feel my youth when I'm with you. But at the same time I’m comforted by how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” You shook your head no. “Do you remember how scared you were to even leave the house when we were kids? Now you live on your own. You never took anything seriously back then, but you’re now one of the hardest working people I know…” his voice softened. “And you let yourself be vulnerable with me when it used to take hours to drag it out of you.” You laid on his shoulder, and he rested his head on top of yours, snuggling closer. “You fear change, yet you’re changing right before your own eyes. And maybe one day, I’ll come back here, and I won’t even be able to recognize who you’ve become.” You sniffled, the idea of Jinyoung not remembering you broke your heart. You held your chest. “But if that day does come, it’ll be okay. Because I know that the person that you’ve become will have it all figured out.  I’ll always be rooting for every single version of yourself even if it doesn’t include me.” You sobbed quietly, interlocking your fingers with his. He held your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. For once, there was an action not done out of habit or relic. It was an action evoked just for this moment, and it was a change that you didn’t mind.

…

Jinyoung held your hand, leading you down a narrow road a few minutes away. The sound of crickets, barking dogs, and distant vehicles could be heard as you stood in the middle of the road of your childhood neighbourhood.

  You hadn’t been here since you moved in 2016. You looked up at the large modern house that sat on what used to be two lots. Yours and Jinyoung’s childhood homes were purchased by a wealthy business man and demolished to build the business man’s dream home. You stared at the foreign house that sat on the place of your childhood dreams and frustrations.

  Jinyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and stopped you at the exact halfway point between what was once his house and your house. You rubbed your arms as a gust of wind rushed by. Without thinking, Jinyoung slipped off his hoodie and placed it on top of your shoulders.

“I remember racing you down this street.” You piped up, pointing down the end of the road. Jinyoung always won that race. No one was faster than him on this street.

“I remember finding that stray puppy and fighting over who got to keep it.” He responded.

“It should’ve been me.” You bickered. Jinyoung laughed, amused at how you were always one to hold a grudge.

“Do you remember that day when it started raining soooo hard and we had to walk shoulder to shoulder under my umbrella?”

You nodded. “Ya, that was the same day with the gummy worms, you dummy.”

“So do you remember what happened right here?” He pointed at the exact spot you were standing. You racked your head for a memory, but nothing stood out to you clearly. You shook your head no. “We always said bye to one another here...but…?” you trailed off.

He took a step forward, both of you standing directly under the streetlight now. You watched his face light up as he likely played the moment back in his head. “So that day, standing under my umbrella, we were about to go our separate ways. You turned into me.”

He took another step closer, popping open the bright yellow convenience store umbrella and holding it over your heads.

You could see it now. It was drizzling so hard, even your hair wasn’t protected from getting soaked.   You wrapped your hands around the handle, just like how you did back then. Chest to chest, huddled under the umbrella. Jinyoung locked eyes with you, your heart beat faster.

“And you looked at me, and I swear I was going to say everything I wanted to tell you right then and there.” Your mouth opened in shock. “This was the place where I almost told you I loved you.”

You studied the eyes of the boy you watched grow up. He looked scared, but sure. There was no doubt in your mind that Jinyoung meant what he said. He lowered the umbrella, not letting his gaze veer from you.

  Your life was just a build up of what if’s and trying to gain the courage to make something of yourself… but you didn’t want that anymore. With your heart beating out of control, you leaned into him, taking the risk and kissing his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the heat of the kiss.

A round of thunder boomed above you, and little by little, raindrops began to pour from the sky.

You and Jinyoung separated to look up at the sky. “I did say, you never know when it’s gonna rain.”

You both ran for the car, shoulder to shoulder, under the umbrella. From your heads to your toes, you were soaked in the rain, but neither of you cared. You silently thanked the world for every bad thing that happened to you today that led to this.

…

You blinked your eyes awake, surveying the damp clothes strewn across your living room floor, and the heat of the bare body laying next to you on the couch. You stared at your sleepy childhood best friend, a smile spreading across your lips. This was a change you were ready for. 

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hey could i pls get a joe mazzello x short libra reader? Its kinda a werid request but i saw the other one with the leo :D

Hi there! Sure thing! I already wrote about Joe with a Libra reader.

You can read it here!

Now I will look up more things about it and add on plus the elements of dating someone shorter!

Reader here is gender neutral. No warnings, but just general fluff.

Link to my Ko-Fi Here- buy me a Ko-Fi!

Link to my Etsy Shop Here!

Joe Mazzello dating a short! Libra! Reader would include...

Joe appreciates your charm and diplomacy. You have that man wrapped around your little finger and you can't convince me otherwise. But you definitely aren't manipulative to where it's toxic around Joey (we don't take kindly to abusive relationships in these parts) You can even things out when Joe doesn’t get his way sometimes. Like he will pout about not landing an audition but you will tell him "it looks like it might suck...and someone else might need it more than you!"

You appreciate Joe's love of order and the rewards that come with it. If he is looking for the spatula while cooking, you know where it is. It inspires you to even get your own life together looking at him!

You and Joe are willing and able to see the different sides of an argument. Say you have opposing opinions on if pineapple belongs on pizza. This brings about a long-winded debate (that honestly, Joe's comments make you laugh hard bc of how into it he gets). You respect each other's differences. But you like the banter and examining subjects after looking at the fact.

In fact, you mostly have good, honest conversations with Joe and can trust him even to help hide a dead body at 3 am if need be!

You both love structure and have similar tastes. You both adore going to a special museum of a painter or will watch movies together with the prettiest cinematography. You share each other's playlists and cry at how lovely it sounds in your ears and just cry and cuddle while listening to records because of how moving it is.

Joe is more on the short side! So he LOVES being the taller guy so he can protect you!!! He can feel big and tough! You know that vine of the guy going "no that's my girlfriend!" regardless of your gender, you catch Joe doing something similar. Like "no, that's MY Y/N! MY s/o! They're spoken for!" in a blanket playing with a toy sword.

Though he slouches more because he wants to get at eye level with you. He’ll tip your head to kiss you. But he’ll also pick you up and even swing you around with his guns! It feels like you are soaring up high- Joe makes you so happy it's like they are wings on your back when you're together.

You get creative when you take photos together- having to sit on his lap, find a place for him to kneel or you to stand, or else the poor photographer has their work cut out for them

But he will give you all sorts of loving nicknames as long as they don’t bother you! Like “fun-sized!” and “doughnut hole!” Your shortness is just one of many things that makes you you and Joey loves you for it!

Taglist: @seraphicmercury @queenlover05 @0x0spunky-monkey0x0

[soulwillower]

I love the hcs about living with Bill, Stan and Richie! Would you ever think of doing more? They’re so funny and I love New Girl!

ahaha sure i can do more i got a lot of ideas lol

part one

alright so here’s one thing

ur bathroom is huge right, with stalls and urinals and a bench for the shower bc its a loft apartment

so u guys often find urselves accidentally just... hanging out in there

like one day bill’s in the shower, stan’s brushing his teeth, and richie wanders in and strikes up a conversation and then thirty minutes later ur all like...we could go to like the living room to hang out why are we all in here

but u dont

omg you know how nick is like oddly really into pranking schmidt and making him think he’s an old person

richie does that with stan 100%

he like takes out the soles of every right shoe of his, he re-angles stan’s chair so he slouches, changes settings on the tv so it’s super quiet and then you all pretend it’s super loud, all that shit

stan swears he’s going crazy

anddddd bill is like winston. he is so shit at pranks

either way too little (“let’s put a blueberry in his cereal!”) or way too much (“-and then we beat up his car with y/n’s bat!”)

one day you need to get your stuff back from a toxic ex, and the boys come with you

and they let u do your thing but they just stand there, wearing all your home made hats and stuff you’d taken back from your ex’s place

when ur ex tries to disrespect you, bill smacks him as he’s wearing a fucking hat with cat ears on it you’d made

he looks goofy but it means so much to u bc its obvious they love u so much

lmao and this whole scene happens one day when stan has to write a pitch about sponges for one of his marketing classes. schmidt is stan, richie is nick (middle) and bill is coach (right)

after a few months living with them you find out they’d added a part to their lease which they dubbed the “No-Nail Oath”

it was basically a decision that none of them were allowed to sleep with you

and it makes u so pissed off that u dont talk to them for the rest of the day and then in the morning they feel so bad they make u breakfast

ur mostly mad bc u may or may not have accidentally caught mad feelings for one of your roommates

another time, bill calls everyone into the bathroom and is like “alright who is playing the joke on me” and ur all like huh????

hes like “every time i use my towel its damp, whos doing it”

and stans like “uh, thats my towel” and bill is like “no yours is the red one”

stan’s like “im telling you rn, ive never used the red towel in my life. i do use that one every single day”

u and richie put it together first and start howling with laughter while the others’ cheeks heat up

they’ve been drying themselves with the same damp towel every day since u guys moved in lol

they both freak out and stanley begins to gag hahahah

anyways:

u guys spend all ur time at the bar richie works at bc free drinks!!

stan gets super weird when richie makes him boozy fruit drinks, like he acts so creepy and excited about them that richie almost refuses to make them bc of it

which u find hilarious

richie getting drunk with u guys on the job bc the bar is shitty and it’s richie

you think its so funny

richie and stan get into an argument when richie buys stan a cookie one day. and stan is like “??lol why did you get me this”

richie was like “dunno. was thinking of you” and stan says he thinks it’s weird and richie gets all hurt because “what, you don’t just think of me and want to make my day better?”

and it becomes a whole thing that you and bill get wrapped into

ok also you, stan, bill, and richie settling down on blankets on the ground in front of your couch for movie night, eating ice cream out of the tub

falling asleep and waking up with cricks in your necks

bro they’d be the best roommates. so fun

[singing-wanderer]

𝕙𝕚𝕚𝕚 𝕨𝕚𝕫 𝕚 𝕒𝕞 𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕓𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦 <3 𝕙𝕚𝕚 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕚 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕠 <3 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕖 /𝕘𝕖𝕟

-𝕕𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 /𝕛

YO ITS THE BEING THAT FUCKS

Yes my dear friend you may!! Anything for the person that bullies me bc I love Stanford [=

(My fave is better /j)

So I’m gonna go for hc style on this one to feed the wonderful masses!

Romantic Yan Sheo x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, worshipful behavior, tiny tiny hints at smut, forced cuddling, mentions of genitalia to make a “suck my dick” moment.

You probably encountered him on one of his rare trips out of his home, to practice painting the green shades of Greenpath. His head snapped your way as you hissed, having a nasty and intimate encounter with the vines. A quiet chuckle left the bug, entertained by your anger towards the unmoving specimen. No fault but your own, though he had pity. Easing his form up, he crept behind you, going to offer his services,

Until you put a nail at his throat. Little cuts littered your clothes and body, soul leaking out your form like a faucet. Although you attempted to hold yourself stiff, you shook like a leaf lost from Unn’s reach. You were just a scared bug who was hurt and angry. The nail master had to stop himself from pulling at his paintbrush, deciding a diplomatic route would end this far quicker than any fight would. Not to say he couldn’t end you in seconds, especially considering your unfortunate health, but still. Mercy was sweet on a traveler so lucky.

It took a bit of coaxing, but you eventually lowered your nail to your hip (he found himself staring, much to his own embarrassment) and allowed him to guide you to his home. An off journey, especially with him having to carry you through the thorns. You had not a clue how his legs weren’t torn through by the natural dangers, but kept silent. A smart wanderer knows not to run the tongue lest it be cut. The trip was mostly filled with his chatter, seeming happy to have company even if it wasn’t exactly willing. His voice was nonstop. Switching between saying how you’d make a great subject for a painting and admiration of how strong you were even while injured.

Somewhere along the way, lost to the rumbling of Sheo’s voice, you drifted to sleep. It was a sweet, long slumber, filled with nothing but warmth. For once, you felt safe. For once, the infection and fighting were far out of your mind’s reach. Although you weren’t out of Sheo’s reach. His brush strokes were weak attempts to capture the beauty in front of him. He’d never seen such a truly peaceful face, especially from someone so worried. You used your nail as an extension of yourself; great for fighting, horrible for everyday life. Based off the way you slouched you probably hadn’t known a days peace in a long while.

The brush twitched with his hand, worry creasing his brow as he realized: you probably hadn’t had a days peace. But Sheo…he could help you find peace. All you had to do was trust him. You deserved better than what this world had to offer muse. Nothing but violence.

You had stayed with him for a couple days after that, often catching him speedily trying to outline something of those many canvasses of his. You were told not to look at them, under claims that they were just scenery practice and personal stuff a wanderer wouldn’t care for. Especially when you plan to hit the road soon. Although every time the bug mentioned it, he seemed anxious or even angry whenever you brought up leaving. You had to give it to him, he was good at prying information out of you. Stories of your childhood, your travels, and despite not being exactly an artist, what art you might like to see. It led to quite the interesting conversation, him doubling over as he laughed at your incorrect use of painting terminology. “The uh….the subject would be…Crystal Peak?” “THATS NOT WHAT A SUBJECT IS-“

Slowly these moments occurred more naturally between the two of you, slipping into a rhythm you would’ve loved to hear the end of, if you didn’t have to leave. Sheo hated it really, staring down the packed bag you carried. Seldom did you open the bag, despite his most often of queries to its contents. Truly puzzling. Something he loved; something he’d miss. Imagination was his greatest gift and curse, happily imagining you staying with him, finally being a willing and knowing participant of his paintings. To stay and learn new talents with him. No one was unreachable he believed, and he approached you all the same.

It hurt then, when on your last day he left for errands. He insisted you try and wait for him to get back to see you off, claiming to never have had such a visitor as yourself. “Truly a wonder you are,” he whispered almost breathlessly, “to have stumbled upon me in this accursed garden meant to keep all out.” Of course, you did your best to hold out. Couldn’t stand to think of hurting such a sweet soul as that. Biding time, you stared at the corner of the room filled with cloaked paintings. It taunted you, sheet draped so eerily well against the frames. It was only right then for you to strip the portraits of their confines, open them to the light and see the true nature.

Oh you wished you hadn’t. Your own reflection taunted you, of you sleeping, of you laughing, even you redressing after you had awoken. What kind of nonsense? No, no you had to flee. It was exactly as you had feared, an artist falling for someone to leave. Poetic brutality could suck your dick, you weren’t going to be trapped in some hut while the world awaited you. With a packed bag slung over your shoulder, the door opened and your feet moving forward-

Everything hurt. That’s all that crossed your mind. That you couldn’t see anything, and that everything was sore. Soft breathing came from beside you, a heavy arm becoming visible as your eyes creaked open to the dim moonlight. Nighttime? But you were supposed to leave yesterday. Instinctively, your hand traced your side for you nail, only to have an even larger hand cover it. “Stop moving so much my love. You’re making it hard to sleep. We both need our rest.”

Fear froze your frame. Sheo’s voice. The one you had fallen asleep too. What had he done? Supposedly knocked you out with how your head throbbed, causing you to feel sore. But now, he easily restrained you as his body slotted against yours, sighing happily and nuzzling into you.

What a perfect world to live in, with just you, your muse, and all the paint you could ever need.

WOOP WOOP AND DONE!! Shout out to you and Jack, once again doc for inspiring me to start this blog. Request anything you want at any time. You might even get a pass when requests are closed ;]