#they are SO GOOD live even if you don't listen to their music otherwise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingforstraykids · 5 months

Note

Okiee,

Hear me out. Need more dad skz series. I loved the Felix one so much 🤗🤗 Maybe Hyun or Minho as single dad series 🥹

🧚‍♀️ Anon

I don't know why but Minho with a toddler sent our thoughts spiraling and @galaxycatdrawz and I came up with enough for a proper series. I hope you enjoy it dear🤭🖤

Always back to you

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 7716

Summary: Balancing his career and personal life as a single dad of a toddler isn't exactly always easy for Min. Luckily he has you, his assistant and the only person his son lets close enough. Minho couldn't be more grateful for your presence in their life.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The summer air is heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine as Minho walks hand in hand with his son Minjun through the bustling streets of their quiet neighborhood. The day is fading into a warm, golden evening, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as they make their way to the local park.

Minho, usually surrounded by stage lights and the constant hum of a lively crowd, cherished these moments of normalcy. His career often pulled him into whirlwinds of tours and interviews, making these quiet, uninterrupted days with Minjun so much more important and special.

As they approach the park, Minjun’s grip tightens with excitement, his little legs speeding towards the familiar rusty swings and the slightly chipped slide he claims as his castle. Minho watches, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as Minjun throws himself into the simple joy of play. His son's laughter rings clear, blending seamlessly with the distant sounds of other children.

“Daddy, come!” Minjun calls out, tugging at Minho’s jeans, pulling him towards the sandbox.

Minho sits down beside Minjun, rolling up his sleeves and helping him dig and mold the damp sand. They work together, Minho guiding Minjun’s small hands to shape the walls and towers. He listens intently as Minjun explains the details of each tower and the imagined dragons that would guard them.

“Daddy, dragons need names!” Minjun declares, his brow furrowed in the serious concentration of a three-year-old.

“How about Flame and Spark?” Minho suggests, watching as Minjun’s face lights up with approval.

“Yes!” Minjun beams, his hands moving with purpose as he places tiny sticks to represent the fearsome dragons.

As they played, Minho felt the weight of his other world—the stage, the lights, the music—melt away. Here, in the sandbox, none of that existed. There were no cameras, no managers, no fans. Just him and Minjun, building a sand fortress strong enough to withstand any siege, imaginary or otherwise.

After their castle was deemed sufficiently dragon-guarded, Minjun tugs at Minho’s hand, leading him to the ice cream stand nestled at the corner of the park. The line is short, and soon Minjun is proudly holding a cone much too big for him, dripping chocolate down his arm.

“Look, Daddy! It’s melting!” Minjun giggles, licking his arm in an attempt to catch the runaway ice cream.

Minho pulls out some napkins, cleaning up the sticky mess with a practiced hand. He watches Minjun attack the cone with a grin, chocolate smearing over his cheeks and nose.

“Is it good?” Minho asks, giggling, his heart swelling at the sight of such simple happiness.

“So good!” Minjun announces, offering Minho a taste. The ice cream is sweet, and the rich chocolate flavor is a perfect end to their day out.

They find a bench nearby. Minho listens as Minjun rambles on about the adventures of Flame and Spark, his imagination running wild. The park begins to empty as families head home for dinner, the sky painted in strokes of orange and pink. “Dumpling?” Minho asks softly, and his son looks up at him with big, brown eyes. “Daddy needs to work tomorrow again.”

“Daddy, why?” Minjun’s question comes softly, almost lost in the breeze.

Minho’s heart clenches. It is a question he dreads, knowing his answers might never fully satisfy the curiosity of a three-year-old. He pulls Minjun closer, holding him in a gentle embrace. “You know how Daddy dances and sings for many people?” Minho starts, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. Minjun nods, his eyes wide. “Well, sometimes Daddy has to go places so all those people can see him perform. But I always come back. Do you know why?” Minjun shakes his head, his eyes searching Minho’s. “Because you are my most important audience. And I promise, no matter where I go, I will always come back to you,” Minho says, his words heavy with the truth of his emotions.

Minjun seems to try and comprehend this for a moment, then smiles, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Promise?” he holds up his pinky.

“Promise,” Minho links his pinky with Minjun’s, sealing the vow. “Let's go home?”

“Home,” he nods satisfied.

Minho would've never had a child this young in this industry if he would've known what would happen. He and his wife got married rather young as well, soon deciding they'd like to have a kid. Mainly because she didn't want to be alone so much with him gone for work often. Everything seemed fine until it turned out they'd be having a boy and not a girl. His wife had wished for a girl dearly and seemed disappointed. Maybe he ignored how much because once their little wonder was there, his wife soon distanced herself from both of them. They were already in the process of getting a divorce when Minho had accidentally listened in to a phone call from her saying she'd probably give up their son for adoption.

Minho knew he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't risk his sweet baby ending up in a family that maybe wouldn't treat him well, so he had long talks with his friends, who promised to support him. Chan made sure to back him when they talked to their boss, making sure that Minjun could stay at the company or on tour. They all knew Minho would be able to focus on his work more, knowing he was within reach when his little boy needed him. The only issue at hand was how much Minjun dreaded being separated from Minho, barely trusting his friends to take care of him for a while.

That was until you came along. Somehow, you found a way to the little boy's heart that made him trust you. You were the only one besides Minho who could calm him down and keep him occupied. Initially, you've simply been Minho's assistant, helping him keep track of his schedule and everything. But being with Minho meant being with Minjun.

Through this, you grew rather close with all of them, becoming a vital part of their group. Minho was thankful to have you around, and you two worked well together. You love taking care of the little one and you would've never expected to get so close to them, especially Minho, seeing him during his rawest moments.

Minho is up early, as usual, feeling the quiet anticipation that always comes with a new day. Today, he'd take Minjun with him to dance practice.

The morning was a rush of activity. Minho prepared a quick breakfast, all the while keeping one eye on Minjun, who seemed happy about accompanying him to work.

"Are you ready, baby?" Minho asked, slipping on Minjun's small backpack filled with snacks, a change of clothes, and, of course, his favorite bunny plushie. Jisung had bought it for Minjun's second birthday and he hasn't left the house without it ever since.

"Yes, Daddy!" Minjun chirps, practically bouncing on his toes. His enthusiasm is infectious, and Minho can't help but laugh as he scoops up his son and heads out the door.

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's questions about everything he saw. Each question is punctuated with wide-eyed wonder, making Minho smile. He explains as much as he can, from the tallest buildings brushing the sky to the bustling morning crowds. Upon arriving at the studio, Minho sets Minjun down, taking his hand as they walk inside. The building was already buzzing with activity, music faintly echoing from the practice rooms.

"Guys, look who I brought!" Minho announces as they enter the main dance studio. The music stops abruptly, and the boys turn around, their faces lighting up at the sight of Minjun.

"Minjunnie!" Chan exclaims, his voice full of warmth. He crouches down to Minjun's level, greeting him with a gentle high-five. "Look how much you've grown already again!"

The other members crowd around, each taking turns to say hello. Felix shows Minjun a quick magic trick, pulling a coin from behind his ear, which delighted Minjun to no end. Hyunjin hands him a small package of his favorite gummy bears, and Innie helps open it.

“Y/nnie should be here soon,” Jisung tells them, glancing up from his phone.

Minjun peeks up at the sound of your name, bouncing excitedly. “Y/nnie?” he asks with wide eyes, turning to Minho.

“Yeah, Y/nnie will play with you,” he laughs at his son’s excitement.

“Gosh, he really loves him,” Seungmin laughs.

“As he should, Y/n is taking such good care of him,” Changbin chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly.

Minho sets up a small, cozy corner for Minjun with some toys and a soft blanket. "You can play here while Daddy practices, okay? I'll check on you all the time."

Minjun nods, already distracted by the toys, but his eyes keep straying to the center of the room where the dance practice will take place.

You join them soon after, greeting them all with a wave. “Hi, buddy,” you greet Minjun cheerfully and sit down on his blanket next to him.

“Hi,” he smiles at you happily, handing you his fire truck. “Play?”

As the practice kicks off, Minho joins the rest of the group in the center. The music pounds through the speakers, a rhythmic base that fills the room with vibrant energy. Minho was in his element, his body moving with precision and grace, a testimony to years of practice and passion.

Minjun watches, wide-eyed, from his corner. The sight of his dad and the others dancing seemed to fascinate him. His little feet tap along to the beat, and it isn't long before he stands up, mimicking the moves in his own adorable way. He stumbles and lands on his butt, giggling at himself as you help him back up again.

“You're okay, dear?” you chuckle, and he nods.

Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Minho felt a surge of pride. During a brief water break, he walks over to you. "Do you want to try dancing with us for a bit?" he asks.

Minjun's enthusiastic "Yes!" was all the answer Minho needed. He leads Minjun to the center of the room, the members clearing some space for them. Minho shows him a simple move, a gentle sway combined with a clap. Minjun follows eagerly, his small body moving in sync with Minho's.

The room is soon filled with cheers and claps from the other members and you, encouraging Minjun, who beams under the attention. Chan turns down the music and suggests, "Let's do a little dance circle. Minjun can start!"

What followed was Minjun at the center, trying his best to keep up, his movements more enthusiastic than rhythmic. Each member joined in, adding their own moves, making it a fun, chaotic dance party that had Minjun laughing uncontrollably. You laugh watching them, seeing how much fun they have with the little boy.

After the dance circle wound down, Minho takes Minjun back to his corner, both panting slightly from the exertion. "You're amazing," Minho praises him softly.

“Takes after his Daddy as it seems,” you chuckle, and Minho smirks.

“My little dancer,” he smiles fondly, poking his son's cheek. Minjun's proud little smile is worth more than any applause Minho had ever received on stage.

You hand him the juice box Minho packed for him and help him with the straw. “Drink something,” you tell him gently, and Minjun does eagerly. You bite back a laugh at him, kicking his feet happily.

As the practice resumes, Minjun's energy eventually fades. He plays with you quietly with his toys, occasionally glancing up to watch his dad. The day passes in a blur of music, laughter, and dance. By the time practice wrapped up, Minjun was dozing off in his little corner, exhausted by the day's adventures. His head resting on your leg, breathing peacefully amidst the chaos. Minho carefully picks him up, his heart full as he feels Minjun's steady breath against his neck. “Thank you,” he smiles at you as you pack up everything for him and hand him the backpack.

“Of course,” you mirror his smile. “Tomorrow, we'll meet at the studio.”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “When was it again?”

“At ten,” you tell him. “Do you need me to keep an eye on Minjun?”

“That would be great,” he nods gently.

“Okay, I'll be there,” you assure him, grabbing your jacket.

“Thank you,” he nods quickly.

“Mr. Lee - Minho,” you quickly correct yourself, sometimes still falling back into old habits. “You don't have to thank me all the time. It's fine.”

“Still,” Minho shakes his head. “It's a lot easier thanks to you…Do you need a ride home?”

“I'll be fine, thank you,” you assure him kindly. “You should get the little superstar to bed,” you say fondly, making Minho chuckle. You exchange your goodbyes before you both leave.

"Did you have fun today?" Minho whispers as he carries Minjun to the car.

"Mhm... best day," Minjun mumbles sleepily, his words slurring together.

Minho smiles, his eyes soft as he settles Minjun into the car seat. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

Minho's day starts early again, but this time there's a tangible buzz of excitement that courses through him. Today isn't just about dance practice; he's scheduled to record a new track with Chan, and he's bringing Minjun along to the studio once more. As they prepare to leave, Minho checks that he has everything Minjun might need—snacks, toys, and a little book of stories, just in case the session stretches longer than expected.

Minjun, now familiar with their routine, waddles around excitedly, chattering about seeing “uncle Channie” and the "music room."

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's usual observations, his voice a constant, cheerful hum in the background. Minho answers each question with patience, his mind simultaneously running through the lyrics and melodies he'll soon be recording.

Upon arrival, the studio feels like a second home. The familiar faces of the staff greet them warmly, and the scent of coffee mingles with the underlying electrical buzz of equipment. Chan is already there, headphones on, nodding along to some beat only he can hear. He lifts his head as Minho and Minjun enter, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"Look who's here! Hey, Minjun, high five!" Chan calls out, and Minjun rushes over, slapping his palm against Chan's outstretched hand. “How's my little Jiho?” he asks fondly and Minho smiles at the nickname Hyunjin had come up with, which stuck.

“Good,” the little boy nods happily.

Minho sets up Minjun's little corner, not far from the recording booth, where you're already waiting, having arrived a few minutes earlier. You have brought a new set of coloring pencils for Minjun, and he dives right into them with delight.

"Ready for a big day, Minjun?" you ask, helping him spread out his coloring sheets.

"Yes! Daddy sings, I draw!" Minjun declares, his focus intense as he selects a green pencil and starts scribbling. You chuckle softly, busying yourself as well by planning Minho's upcoming week.

Minho and Chan discuss the session with the producer, going over the song's structure and the tone they aim to capture.

As they start recording, Minho slips into the booth, the microphone in front of him a familiar friend. Outside the booth, you keep Minjun engaged, but his eyes often drift to his father, watching through the glass as Minho sings.

During playback, Minho steps out to listen, standing beside you and Minjun. He watches for Minjun's reaction, hoping to see a sign of approval. Minjun looks up, his eyes wide, and claps his small hands together.

"Daddy's song!" he exclaims, and Minho laughs, bending down to ruffle his hair.

"That's right, dumpling. Did you like it?" Minho asks.

"Love it, Daddy! You and uncle Channie sing nice!" Minjun responds, and Chan, overhearing, chuckles, giving Minho a pat on the back.

"It's a hit then, we have our toughest critic's approval," Chan jokes, making you all giggle.

The session continues, with Minho going back into the booth several times to refine his parts. Between takes, he checks on Minjun, always making sure he's happy and occupied. You seamlessly take care of Minjun, ensuring he's entertained but also quiet whenever the recording light is on.

As the afternoon goes on, the final parts of the track are recorded. With the professional part of his day winding down, Minho's attention fully returns to Minjun, who by now has created an impressive array of colorful drawings. "What do you say we show these to uncle Channie, huh?" Minho suggests, and Minjun nods enthusiastically, gathering his artwork.

Chan admires each drawing, making a big deal out of Minjun's artistic skills, which makes Minjun beam with pride. "We've got a future artist on our hands, Minho," Chan says, ruffling Minjun's hair.

"Maybe, but no matter what, I just want him to be happy," Minho replies, his voice soft, filled with love.

As the day comes to an end, you help pack up Minjun's things while Minho prepares to leave. He thanks you again, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Really, Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without your help," he admits.

"It's always a pleasure, Minho. Plus, I get to spend the day with this little guy," you say, tickling Minjun gently, pulling a giggle from him.

"Did you have fun today, Minjun?" he asks his son fondly.

"Yes, Daddy! Sing with uncle Channie again?" Minjun asks, his voice sleepy but happy.

"Absolutely, buddy. We'll come back soon," Minho promises, a smile crossing his face as he focuses back on the road.

One month later

Minho sits on the edge of the sofa, his tour outfit half-on, the rest laid out meticulously across the sofa. Minjun, sitting cross-legged with his blanket clutched tightly to his chest, watches his father with large, worried eyes. The tension between wanting to be there for his fans and needing to comfort his son gnaws at Minho, creating a knot of anxiety that settles heavily in his stomach.

“Buddy, you know Daddy has to go sing for all the people who came to see us tonight, right?” Minho’s voice is soft but carries an underlying note of apology. The stage was calling him, but his heart was anchored right there.

Minjun’s lips quiver as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, Daddy! Stay, please. Don’t go!” His voice breaks as he begins to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight tears through Minho’s heart like a dagger.

Kneeling in front of his son, Minho wipes away the tears with a gentle thumb, his own eyes misting over. “Oh, my little boy, I wish I could stay... But remember how we talked about Daddy’s job? How there are so many people waiting to hear our songs?” He tries to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice, hoping to sway his son’s mood.

But Minjun was unyielding. His small body trembles with sobs, each cry slicing through Minho’s resolve. “I want Daddy... no songs... stay... please…” His words are punctuated by hiccupping sobs, each plea making Minho’s heart sink more firmly to the ground.

“Minjun, I need you to be strong for Daddy now, yeah?” he asks, but his son shakes his head with a weak sound. Minho quickly finishes dressing, he could hear the distant echo of the others warming up. The show was imminent, his cue to leave fast approaching. He merely has an hour left.

“You'll join us for a last talk?” Jeongin asks, and Minho nods, scooping Minjun up and following him outside.

Chan talks them through the process once more, glancing at Minho, who's rocking his crying son in his arms. He can tell Minho is starting to get worried and stressed out by his son's discomfort. Which is bad because they need him tonight. It's the final concert of their tour, and this is important.

Minjun wails pathetically in his arms, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat for a moment, shaking his head. “Sorry, you guys keep talking,” he says, quickly leaving the room, not wanting to disturb them any longer.

Jisung watches them worriedly and glances at Chan. “You think Jiho will be okay before we start?” he asks.

“I doubt it. Min said he's having a rough day,” he shakes his head.

“Shit,” Seungmin breathes out. “We need him tonight, Channie hyung.”

“I know,” Chan nods. “We can't help much, we know how needy his baby boy gets sometimes. We can only make sure we're all ready.”

Minho paces through the room, gently rocking his little boy in his arms as he talks soothingly to him. His son seemed to have realized he wouldn't see him for the next two hours, which must've caused the sudden mood swings. Minho is starting to feel stressed, glancing at the clock up at the wall and realizing he'd have to be on stage in ten minutes. He should be preparing himself mentally right now, getting a moment of peace before their intense evening. But he isn't relaxed or calm at all. The sound of his son wailing in his arms is cutting through him like knives, knowing he'd have to leave him here in a bit. He knows his friends loved their little boy, but not when he was fussing around before a show, which is why he left their room a while ago. “Shh, dumpling, please,” he tries, soothingly rubbing his back. “It's okay, yeah?”

Minjun responds with another sob, his little hand clinging to his shirt. Minho's sure his stage outfit will be stained with drool and tears later, and he feels his throat tighten as his exhaustion and frustration take over for a moment. His body will be exhausted before performing after pacing for almost an hour, carrying his son, who's only growing heavier. “Please,” he whines, knowing his own distress isn't exactly calming his baby boy.

The door opens, and Changbin shoots him an apologizing look. “Min, we should leave.”

“I know, I'll be right there,” he tells him, flashing him a stressed, weak smile.

“Two minutes,” he reminds him and leaves again.

“Please stop crying, Minjun, please,” he begs, feeling tears burn in his eyes.

The two minutes are over way too soon, and Chan opens the door this time. “Min, I'm sorry. We should go,” he tells him.

“I know, okay?!” he snaps at him, his emotions getting the better of him. “I didn't choose this, Chan, but I can't just leave him here either! I can't leave him at the hotel for that long, he's too young!”

Chan lifts his hands in an attempt to show him he's not here to pick a fight. “Min, I know, I know it's shit,” he tells him soothingly. “We can start five minutes later, but you need to get ready,” he says gently, stepping closer. “Let me take him for a moment, yeah? You should change your shirt and let someone fix your hair real quick. Come here, Jiho, hm?” Minho reluctantly lets go of him and flinches heavily as the cries of his son grow louder. He looks at Chan with tears in his eyes, who gently rocks the little one in his arms. “It's okay, Minnie, go on,” he tells him kindly. “He'll be okay.”

Minho fights with himself for a moment before leaving the room. His friends look at him compassionately as he passes them, and Felix follows him into their dressing room. He takes over for their stylist, helping Minho change his shirt and gently smoothing out his hair. “Take a deep breath, yeah?” he says gently, and Minho nods, doing as he's told. “Y/n will be here in a few minutes.”

Minho frowns at him. “No, Yongbokie, it's his day off,” he shakes his head.

“He's the only one your son accepts besides you. Chan called him a bit ago,” Felix tells him and soothingly rubs his shoulders.

Chan joins them with an apologizing look and a screaming Minjun. “He started kicking,” he tells him, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat, taking him again.

“I'm sorry,” Minho says, voice quivering as it all gets a little too much to handle. “I'm so sorry. I didn't want this, not like that.”

“We know,” Chan assures him kindly. “But we also know why you decided to pull through with this.”

Minho fights back tears, shakily rubbing his temple with one hand. He's starting to get a headache, and honestly, he just wants to go back home. “But-I know it's all getting too much,” he says shakily. “He's so clingy I can't go anywhere, and he's crying as soon as I'm gone. I know how annoying it is for you all, even if you try to hide it,” he says.

“That's your own worries speaking, hyung,” Felix assures him. “We love him, and yes, days like today are rough, but we know why you do it, and we promised to support you with it.”

“It's okay, I promise,” Chan adds gently.

You rip the door open, a little out of breath from rushing up the stairs. “I'm here, sorry, there was so much traffic!” you apologize and quickly make your way over. “You guys should go,” you urge them and gently ease Minjun out of Minho's arms. “Hiii, baby,” you say softly, smiling as the little one tiredly buries his face in your neck, hiccuping your name between broken little cries. You soothingly sway from side to side, rubbing his back and talking to him calmly. Your own calm demeanor does wonders for the little boy who grows still in your arms, little hand gripping your sweater as his body's shaking. You look up and notice Chan and Felix have left, but Minho's still here, staring at the two of you in wonder. You can spot the tears in his eyes and flash him an encouraging smile. “Go on, I got him.”

“Are you sure?” he asks nervously. “I know it's your day off.”

“I like taking care of him, it doesn't feel like work,” you assure him before glancing down at the sniffling boy in your arms. “We'll have so much fun, yeah? Your daddy has to work now, but I'm here,” you tell him and gently pat his back. “You want your plushie?” you ask and earn a weak little nod. “Go,” you whisper toward Minho, who gives himself a push. “Oh, look, here it is,” you say, handing Minjun his favorite plushie.

The boy pulls the fluffy bunny to his chest and cuddles into you. As the stage door clicks shut behind Minho, leaving the bustling sounds of the backstage crew prepping for the night's performance, the room he exits from fades to a quieter atmosphere.

The walk to the stage is the longest walk of his life. Each step echoes with Minjun’s sobs, and each beat of his heart synchronizes with the distant thumps of the bass drum from the stage. Behind the curtains, the crowd's roar is deafening, a stark contrast to the quiet, tearful goodbye he had just endured. Minho takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts. Jisung gently takes his hand, Chan squeezes his shoulder, and Felix straightens his jacket. Minho's eyes flutter back open as the music starts, and he tries to push everything else away. He needs to focus.

You hold Minjun closer, feeling his little heart beating against your own. His sobs begin to subside, his breath evening out as he clutches his bunny tightly. The stuffed toy seems to offer him the comfort he seeks, his tiny fingers threading through its soft fur.

You rock gently, humming a tune that you've noticed often calms him down. The melody is simple yet soothing, and as you continue, Minjun's grip relaxes. His eyes, puffy and red from crying, start to close. It’s moments like these, where the world slows down, that remind you why you cherish your role so much—not just as a caregiver but as a steady presence in this little one's life. You would've never thought you'd enjoy looking after a kid this much.

Around you, the room is scattered with signs of Minho and his friends' hurried exit. Costumes hang on racks, makeup kits are left open, and a few sheets of music flutter slightly from a nearby air vent. It's a world of glamour and chaos mixed with those quiet moments you share with Minjun.

Minho’s life, a blend of public performances and private moments like these, paints a vivid picture of the sacrifices and joys of his career. As you adjust Minjun in your arms, preparing to sit down with him until he falls asleep, you think about the pressure Minho faces. It's not just about being a performer but also being a father and a friend—balancing each role under the watchful eyes of the public and his friends.

Outside, you hear the faint sound of the crowd, a rumbling wave of excitement for the show about to start. It's a sound you've grown accustomed to, down to the lights, music, and energy that Minho will soon be enveloped in. Yet here, in the quiet room with Minjun finally drifting to sleep, the noise seems worlds away.

Your thoughts drift to Minho and the stress practically dripping off his body. You understand his dilemma. Being a parent is challenging enough without the added pressures of a demanding career. Minho's struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy for Minjun while meeting the expectations of his career is a tightrope walk that few can comprehend fully.

As Minjun's breaths deepen, indicating he's fallen asleep, you carefully adjust him on your chest. You ensure his favorite bunny is tucked beside him and gently pull a small blanket over his little body to keep him warm.

This tranquility is what you hope to provide for Minho as well—a sense of peace amidst the storm of his responsibilities. As the caregiver, your role extends beyond just watching over Minjun. It's about offering both father and son the assurance that they are not alone in this journey, and you can tell Minho needs it more with every passing day.

With Minjun settled, you step out of the room to catch a glimpse of the show on a monitor in the hallway. Minho is on stage now, his presence magnetic, pulling the audience into his performance. The contrast between the father you saw earlier and the performer now captivating the crowd is stark. Yet, it's this duality that defines him.

As you watch, you feel a sense of pride in Minho’s resilience and determination. It reinforces your commitment to support him in any way you can. When the show ends, you know he'll return, exhausted but fulfilled, eager to hear that Minjun was fine, that in his absence, everything was okay.

This is your world as much as it is theirs—a world of late nights and lullabies, of cheers and tears. It's a delicate balance. As the crowd’s applause echoes down the hallway, blending with the soft sounds of Minjun's peaceful sleep, you smile to yourself, ready for when Minho returns, ready to reassure him that everything is indeed fine.

Minho is the first one to return, a relieved smile covering his lips as he sees his son peacefully asleep on your chest. “You're an angel,” he breathes out, collapsing on the sofa next to you and gently fondling his son’s hair. “He didn't stop crying for an hour, I was about not to perform tonight.”

“All he needed was some peace and his favorite plushie,” you chuckle softly. “Also, he was very tired from all the crying, so that probably did the trick.”

Minho laughs weakly and shakes his head. “You handle him so much better than I do.”

“It's basically my job now,” you tell him. “Also, you were stressed and freaking out. He can sense that and it probably didn't help him calm down,” you say softly. “Not that it's your fault, everyone would have been.”

Minho hums gently and studies your face for a moment. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to express how much it means to him to be able to trust someone with his little boy. “You know what he calls his favorite plushie?”

“He didn't tell me yet,” you shake your head, frowning at him curiously.

“He calls him Y/nnie,” he says with a tired smile, watching your expression change to one of surprise and joy. “You mean a lot to him, so I'm glad you don't mind taking care of him.”

“Oh,” you nod in surprise. “That's sweet.”

“I thought you'd like to know that,” Minho hums before pushing himself up. “I should go and take a shower. I'll come get him after.”

“No rush,” you assure him kindly.

The others are quiet whenever they have to get something in the room and leave quickly. Chan quietly thanks you for getting here on such short notice and saving the day, which you wave off with a gentle smile.

Minho shuffles back inside a little later, wearing a comfy sweater and matching sweatpants. His fluffy hair falls freely around his face. He grabs his bag from a chair and fumbles for his phone to call one of their drivers.

“I can take you back, I'm driving there anyway,” you tell him, and he drops his phone back into the bag with a thankful smile. “You got everything?” you ask, and Minho nods, grabbing his glasses from the table. He puts them on, running his hand through his hair tiredly, and makes his way back over to you.

Minho reaches for Minjun, craving to hold his little boy again, and gently lifts him up. Minjun stirs in his sleep, and Minho quickly nestles him against his chest, soothingly fondling his hair.

“Daddy,” he mumbles drowsily, little hand curling up against his neck.

“I'm here, baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. “Go back to sleep.”

The sight of Minho like this, looking so soft and vulnerable with his sweet boy resting against his chest stirs something in you you can't really explain. A sudden urge to take care of both of them overwhelms you, and your eyes trace Minho's features. You know he's pretty, he's a visual for a reason and still, you're stunned by how beautiful he gets in moments like these.

The door opens, and Minho turns a little, meeting Chan's caring expression with a tired smile. “Everything alright?” he checks in, making sure Minho is okay after this rough night.

“Yeah,” Minho assures him gently. “We're okay.”

“You did well today, Min,” Chan tells him warmly and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Thanks, hyung,” he says genuinely.

“Thank you again, Y/n, I wouldn't have called if there had been another way,” Chan apologizes again.

“I know,” you assure him. “I didn't mind, if you need me, I'm here,” you tell them and get up.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a driver?” Chan asks, and Minho gently shakes his head.

“Y/nnie said he'd take us,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly.

“Alright then,” Chan nods before grabbing his own things and waving goodbye.

Minho exhales softly and shifts on his feet, feeling the intensity of the concert creeping up on him. His legs hurt, and his arms are tired, but he doesn't want to let go of him yet. If someone asked him to go to sleep right here he could without a second thought. He carefully tilts his head and his neck cracks at the movement. For a second, pain tints his features, and you frown at him.

“You're okay?” you ask gently, already grabbing your stuff and his bag.

“Mhm,” he hums, gently swaying from side to side to keep Minjun asleep. “Just exhausted…and everything hurts.”

“You definitely need some rest,” you respond gently, adjusting his bag on your shoulder. “Let’s get you both home.”

Minho nods gratefully, his gaze lingering on Minjun’s peaceful face as they follow you out of the room. The walk to the car is quiet, with only the occasional whisper of wind and the distant sound of the city at night. Once Minho settles Minjun into the car seat, he collapses into the passenger seat with a sigh of relief.

The drive is smooth and uneventful. You keep the radio off, allowing the silence to settle comfortably around you, broken only by Minjun's gentle breathing in the backseat. Minho’s head leans against the window, eyes closed, but you can tell he isn’t really asleep; he is just resting, processing the day.

“Y/nnie,” Minho finally speaks, his voice quiet in the dark car. “I really can’t thank you enough. Not just for tonight, but for everything. You’ve become… a lot more than just an assistant to us.”

Your heart warms at his words, and you glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “I’m glad to be here, Minho. You and Minjun mean a lot to me, too.”

A small smile tugs at Minho’s lips. “I'm lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fatigue. You can't help the warmth spreading through you at his words. If there's one thing you've learned in the years of working for him, then it's that he’s completely honest when he's tired.

As you reach the hotel, you help him gather everything and support him as he carefully lifts Minjun, who mumbles sleepily but doesn’t wake. Minho leans against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed as he fights falling asleep on the spot. He readjusts his grip around Minjun, burying his nose in his hair, and breathes calmly.

You search for Minho's keycard for the room and gently guide him down the hallway, opening the door for him. You stop there, and Minho turns around inside, flashing you a tired smile. “Come in for a moment?” he asks gently.

“It's fine, really,” you assure him.

“Let me at least make you some tea, please?” he asks, and you can tell he's trying to give you something back for today. You can't deny him that.

“Okay,” you nod and step inside, pulling the door closed. You follow Minho inside, and he tells you to drop his bag somewhere next to the bed.

Minho carefully puts Minjun down, tucking him in. He smooths his hair back and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispers.

Minho quickly makes you both some tea and hands you a cup. “You should get some sleep too,” you suggest as you walk towards the small living room area, where Minho has slumped onto the couch.

“Just a few minutes,” Minho says, his eyes already closing. “I’m too tired to move.”

You sit down next to him and gently ease the cup from his hands, not wanting him to burn himself by accident. “Min,” you say gently as he tilts to the side, body growing heavy against you. “You should really get some sleep.”

“Thanks for tonight, Y/nnie,” Minho whispers as you give up the fight and let him rest his head on your shoulder.

“It’s no problem, really,” you reassure him. You pause, considering your next words. “Minho, you’re doing an amazing job with him. I hope you know that.”

Minho smiles weakly. “I’m trying. It’s hard to know if I’m doing enough, you know?”

“You are. More than enough,” you tell him kindly.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation... or maybe it’s more of an apology for tonight,” Minho mumbles sleepily.

“There's no need, I promise,” you tell him, but Minho shakes his head.

“I hate that my work pulls me away from Minjun,” he starts, his voice tinged with frustration. “And nights like tonight make it all feel ten times heavier. I worry about the effect it’s having on him.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” you reassure him. “And it’s clear to everyone, especially Minjun, how much you love him. He knows, Minho, how much you care.”

Minho nods, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Y/nnie. I... sometimes I just need to hear that. It gets a bit overwhelming trying to balance everything. And tonight, seeing him so upset, I felt like I was failing him.”

“You’re not failing him,” you say firmly. “Every single time he looks at you, he does so with so much love. That’s not failure.”

Minho pulls back his head and looks at you drowsily, a sincere smile breaking through his exhaustion. “I’m really glad you’re here. Not just for Minjun, but for me too.”

“I told you the first day we met I'm here to make your life easier,” you tell him gently. “It doesn't matter if that's by planning your week or taking care of the little one.”

“He really loves you, I hope you know that,” he tells you and swallows at the joy in your eyes. “I… never mind,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly, taking off his glasses. “I should get some sleep before I keep on rambling and keep you up.”

“You should,” you giggle. “I'll let myself out.”

“Goodnight, Y/nnie,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Minho,” you say and decide it's your time to leave.

Minho drags himself to bed, crawling under the covers and joining his baby. He smiles as Minjun wakes up and crawls on his chest, getting comfortable there.

“Missed you, daddy,” he says softly.

“Missed you too, dumpling,” he says fondly and kisses his head. “Let's sleep now, yeah?” he asks, already drifting off to sleep.

“Y/nnie?” he asks.

“Y/nnie's in his room,” Minho answers and squints at him as his son shuffles off him and searches the bed. “Minjunnie,” he groans softly and turns onto his side.

His son makes a succeeding noise and shoves his little bunny into Minho's face. “Y/nnie!”

“Oh, I should've known that,” he laughs at himself before pulling him into a hug. “Come here now, yeah? Daddy's tired, baby.”

“Story?” he asks and Minho closes his eyes in defeat at the soft, tiny voice of his son.

“There once was a little boy. He was really tired, and his daddy was also very tired. They went to bed. The little boy fell asleep. The end,” he says and Minjun makes a protesting little noise.

“Stupid, daddy,” he laughs.

“Yeah, stupid,” he giggles and plants a few kisses all over his son's adorable little face.

“Story, please?” he giggles, scrunching his little nose at his father's sudden love attack.

Minho smiles, his exhaustion seeping away slightly in the joy of the moment. "Alright, my love, one story, but then it's really time to sleep," he says, adjusting himself so Minjun is comfortably nestled against his side, their heads sharing a pillow.

"Okay, daddy," Minjun agrees eagerly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of a bedtime story.

"Once upon a time," Minho begins, his voice soft and melodious, perfect for a bedtime tale, "in a faraway land, there was a brave little knight named Minjun."

"Like me!" Minjun interrupts with a giggle, his small fingers playing with Minho's hand.

"Yes, just like you," Minho confirms with a grin. "Minjun was the bravest knight in all the lands, and he had a magical friend, a dragon named Sparky."

"Dragon!" Minjun exclaims, delighted. "Does he breathe fire?"

"He does," Minho nods, "but Sparky only breathes fire when he needs to protect the kingdom. Most of the time, he's very gentle and loves to play."

Minjun listens intently, his imagination painting the scenes as his father describes them. "One day," Minho continues, "the kingdom faced great danger. A mysterious fog covered the land, making everyone feel very sleepy and lazy."

“What's fog, daddy?” he asks, his voice sounding a little sleepy by now.

“You know when it's cold, or it rains, and the air is all gray and heavy?” he asks, and Minjun nods.

“Fog is stupid,” he declares, making Minho bite back a laugh.

"So no one wanted to play or work," Minho adds, noticing Minjun's concerned frown. "Minjun and Sparky had to find the cause of the fog and save the kingdom."

"How did they do it?" Minjun asks, his voice filled with worry for the characters.

"Well," Minho says, drawing out the suspense, "they went on a grand adventure. They traveled through the Enchanted Forest, across the Silver Mountains, and finally to Crystal Lake, where the fog was thickest. They found out that the fog came from a sleeping spell by a lonely wizard who just wanted some friends," Minho explains. "Minjun offered to be the wizard's friend if he would lift the spell."

"Did he do it?" Minjun's eyes are hopeful, his small body tense with excitement.

"Yes, he did," Minho smiles. "The wizard was so happy to have a friend that he not only lifted the spell but also promised to use his magic for good. Together, they returned to the kingdom, heroes who had saved the day."

Minjun yawns, snuggling closer to his father, his eyelids heavy. "I like Minjun. He's nice," he mumbles sleepily.

"He is," Minho agrees, his voice a whisper now. "Just like you, my brave little boy."

As Minjun's breaths even out into the steady rhythm of sleep, Minho continues to hold him close. The story's end morphs into a quiet night. He lies there in the darkness, feeling the weight of his son's trust and love, anchoring him more firmly than anything else could.

In the silence of the room, with Minjun's soft snores as the only sound, Minho reflects on the day. The responsibilities of his career, the bright lights of the stage, and the cheers of the crowd—all of it fades into the background when contrasted with the peaceful, sleeping form of his son. Here, in the dim glow of the nightlight, Minho finds his truest joy.

He whispers a promise into the darkness, a vow to always return to this, to Minjun, no matter where his life takes him. "Always back to you," he murmurs, gently kissing Minjun's forehead. With that promise cradling his heart, Minho allows himself to drift off to sleep.

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @zehina @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @kevcanwait @queer-possum

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ellejos · 2 years

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Night Routine for Insomniacs

for my fellow insomniacs who struggle with sleeping: some ideas to improve your night routine and sleep

How to get in the mood:

Light your candles

brew yourself your good night tea or drink (when I was younger I always drank hot milk with honey)

lower your lights and close your curtains

play relaxing music

prepare your bedroom (windows open or closed, hot water bottle in bed, etc.)

best ideas for resting:

watch an episode of the show you're currently watching or watch a film from your watchlist (because otherwise you'll never gonna see it anyway)

connect with your partner or the people you love <3 these people make life worth living and deserve your attention and time!

this is non negotiable: read at least 1-2 chapter, or if you're not into reading listen to an audiobook or podcast

do some yoga or stretching

journaling

Preparing is Key:

Lay out your outfits for the next day, pack your bag, prepare your gym bag, declutter of your clothing laying around - cleaning and preparing your space in order to get these tasks out of your mind for a good night sleep and a fresh start in the morning

Update your planner and to do list for the next day

set your alarms to get up on time

turn off your devices! if you are using your phone as an alarm clock set it into flight mode or create a night mode for yourself

put on your bed clothes

Night Skin Care Routine:

Remove Make Up with oil-based Makeup Remover

Cleanse face (don't forget about your neck and ears) with water-based cleanser (preferably the same cleanser you use in the morning)

Exfoliate your skin or use a face mask, massage your face while applying or try a sheet mask and use a face roller get the best benefits

use a toner afterwards to prep your skin for following

acid treatment and serums

if you're having break outs you can apply spot treatment

eye patches and eye cream

night cream or night mask

Your skincare routine in the evening should moisturize your face so that your skin is soft and glowing after waking up.

Ultimate hack for soft lips in the morning: you can create a lip scrub with sugar and honey and afterwards apply a thick layer of vaseline on your lips - it's a low budget game changer.

sleeping beauty tips:

brush your teeth before going to bed

spray your pillow with lavendar or diffuse some calming essential oils

listen to sleep meditation

absolutely no phone, tv or any devices for sleeping!

Have a good night rest angels!

#night routine #nightroutine #that girl #clean girl #green juice girl #self care #self help #self improvement #routine #pink pilates princess #glow up #feminine energy

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after-hours-in-the-library · 3 months

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Guess I got to start this blog somewhere

How would they react to waking up with a boner next to you

For some reason I can't really write lighthearted things for Alan, sigh

Not really nsfw but kinda suggestive?

If earth could swallow them they would accept it in a heartbeat.

Poor sweet Kaito is the first one I think that would accidentally get too excited to be sleeping next to his SO and get hard. He is already suffering, don't look at him disgusted, he WILL cry.

Luca is startled like it's the first time happening, apologizing for putting you in an awkward situation. Pat his shoulder and tell him it's alright.

Alan still has some kind of complex of seeing himself as too worn out, a killer and a criminal, and in contrast seeing his partner in a much better light. When he gets hard while sleeping together he almost feels like when he is cleaned the blood off of his fists after an underground fight, whatever rag he grabbed now tainted too.

Sweet baby Subaru feels oh, so bad at the slightest feeling he might be imposing himself on you at any point, be it date plans, shared activities or what to eat for dinner. He removes himself out of the situation and sends a three paragraph long text apologizing and understanding if you want to break up and not see him anymore.

Doesn't make a big deal out it if you don't react badly

Sho reads books, even if it doesn't look like it, and knows that morning wood usually doesn't happen because of sexual stimuli. Sho also gets a bit bashful at having woken next to you like that, tsk-ing at your teases while he looks away.

‘boys are just like that' Haku might cover with a pillow if you feel uncomfortable or awkward but he will be cracking jokes about the situation to lighten up the mood.

Is like ‘whatever’ and doesn't do anything to hide it

Jin, as nonchalant as ever, doesn't think much about it, he might go to the bathroom and fix his problem if you fuss a bit but otherwise he will stay lying down listening to music.

Towa is a free spirit and rarely cares about morals or common decency, doing as he pleases most of the time, it's no wonder he looks curious when you get surprised at the tent in his pants.

Ed decides it isn't that big of a deal, when you live for so long some insecurities and things you get embarrassed about start mattering less and less.

Even if Subaru did his best teaching him, Lyca doesn't understand many human sensibilities, like not smelling people or yelling when someone talks smack, it's no wonder he almost seems surprised at your reaction

Makes you feel like you are the weird one for even noticing

Leo, the little bitch he always is, will find a way to make it awkward, be it saying you are a perv for looking far down to accuse you of planning it.

Ren is a somewhat mixed case bc on one hand he makes you feel like the weirdo ‘why are you so interested in my groin. Sexual harassment’ but on the other he is internally crying at how awkward it's.

Good luck even getting into that situation

If you think you can catch Thoma off guard nice try —at least so early into the relationship— he prides himself in being able to act the part of a gentleman so even if it happened you wouldn't wake up or even notice.

Haru is too tired, too busy and doesn't have enough time to cuddle with you to sleep.

Can Zenji even get an erection?

Good luck getting Rui comfortable enough with getting close to sleep next to each other.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader

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rosesnbooks · 1 year

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Astrology observations #1

-gemini moons talk A LOT, or at least, so many things are in their head..i feel sorry for them lol.

-3rd house placements are usually really good at something, and others praise them for this. very smart individuals. may be good with words or memorising lots of info

-libra rising know how to dress and they have their own unique style. even if they are wearing something basic, the outfit fits like a glove

-scorpio mars are either highly sexual or aspec, i feel like there is nothing in between. i'm a scorpio mars and my bestie is a scorpio rising and we are both aspec

-aquarius rising always give off this mysterious and private vibe, and when they start talking you realise there's so much more to them

-11th house stelliums may focus a lot on friendships in their lifetime, and they often leave a strong impact on them. but they need to choose them more carefully

-taurus mercury and their voices are so sweet and pretty. men's voices are deep and calming.

-taurus moon people? i love you, never change. the way these people are so welcoming and kind, so grounded yet soft and sensitive. you feel like coming home in the best way possible.

-sagittarius mars people are all over the place. even if they have introverted placements, i feel like they want a lot from life, a lot of excitement.

-aries moons want to be in charge wherever they go. if you make them feel small, they will cut you off from their lives. also, i think they focus their identity on specific things they like, such as music and films

-scorpio venus and their love can be addicting and suffocating at the same time. as if they want to become one with their partner. honestly, a lot of people can deal with this intensity, and if well-developed, this love can be rewarding

-capricorn mercury seem very mature when they speak, people always listen to them and trust them with their opinion. however, they are so stubborn sometimes and they don't even see it. it takes a lot of effort to change their opinion

-i think cancer moons worry too much about how people feel all the time, it drains them. very sensitive and moody folks, but so loving and attentive

-leo venus shine so bright, and they want a lot of fun. romance is important to them, and they seem like a kid when in love. it's really sweet. they just need to find someone who would provide them this idealistic view of love, otherwise they'd get bored and disappointed

-virgo placements are so hard on themselves, such perfectionists. some are harsh on others too, while others observe people's flaws easily but accept them momentarily.

-gemini moons, surrounding themselves with knowledgeable people makes them inspired

-capricorn venus are really loyal. they don't want to settle, their standards are high. if you seem flaky to them, they won't waste their time with you

#astrology #astro observations #take this with a grain of salt since i read about astrology for fun #and these are some of my observations so im aware not everyone would agree with me #rosesnbooks

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whorbidmore · 6 months

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okay, so, I've fallen victim to the leon kennedy brainrot steadily overtaking me, following me from Tumblr to Pinterest, to Instagram and even the absolutely fucking dreaded application of TikTok. I don't even use it that often??? and the algorithm is just like 'wow, yeah, this little fuckers gay as hell send in the 40 year old meow meow!!' and having watched Death Island fairly recently, I'm gonna have my opinions on what this dude would be like. Cus my brain loves to rationalize shit and think ab 'what if this mf was someone real?' so... fuck it.

Leon Soft Kennedy Headcanons

SFW

accidentally bigoted. - im sorry but let's be so fucking real here. he's a 40 something year old man who spent the majority of his life in either the military, a police training academy in the 90's, or otherwise working under the U.S Federal System with minimal/no time between missions to unpack absolutely everything he's got going on... the guys gonna have some problematic tendencies. Obviously that doesn't mean he means any of that or is incapable of change, etc. etc., but I know for damn certain this dude would laugh a little at Bill Burr's borderline to blatantly misogynistic material and has probably chuckled unironically at the attack helicopter jokes. But, he's not a complete dick, and would definitely become more critical of those kinds of jokes if it's pointed out to him.

honest to God, Dad Without Kids™ - it's not simply enough for me to leave it at 'but it's the vibes!!' so, I'm gonna break this shit down. Leon is absolutely Gen X incarnate. I can fucking guarantee you that on his off days he accidentally ends up dressing as an undercover cop; I'm talking cargo shorts, light blue button up, those fucking standard issue boots cus "they're perfectly good shoes" and those stupid ass sunglasses... you know the ones I'm talking about. Let's say you're living with him, right? And you're... you, and you wanna watch something on TV. This dude would strain himself getting up like a turtle fallen backwards on its shell, stand up, walk right in front of the TV screen and stand there with his hands on his hips. It doesn't matter that he had to piss, he needs to get a better look of what's happening! Does those really loud, obnoxious coughs and sneezes, absolutely blows his back out doing one at least five times a year.

Only watches British Reality TV - Considering he's canonically a film buff, I'll say that this is purely for whatever he gravitates towards on general streaming services. I honestly don't see him being the type to regularly tune in to standard American cable TV, or only does so under specific circumstances like American Ninja Warrior or maybe Forged in Fire if there's absolutely nothing else. It's not something that's exclusive to Americans, — I'm from New Zealand and I do this too, — but Leon absolutely falls into the category of watching British Reality and Game shows purely because of the accents. I'm talking Jeremy Kyle, The Big Fat Quiz of Everything, Taskmaster, The Great British Bake Off and so on and so forth. It doesn't matter that baking isn't his forté or a passion of his, if Josephine curdles her buttercream by over mixing, his hands are in his hair in utter disappointment. 100% tries to mimic their accents too. We all do it, don't lie.

Has... very dated music tastes - I don't know if you could guess, but the last paragraph included me calling myself out and name dropping some shows I watch anyway or grew up watching, and I'm just saying that this is gonna be no different. If anything? This'll be worse! Since I'm very passionate about the music I listen to and have the inability to keep my interests separated from the other, of course my love of particular bands will bleed over into my interpretation of Leon's character! Anyway, all that for me to say that Leon fucking LOVES 90's grunge musicians, specifically Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, as well as early nu metal bands like Korn (their dubstep phase did not happen.), TOOL, and Rage Against the Machine — and no, he unfortunately doesn't see the irony of him being a fed and listening to Rage, — but would also have a soft spot for psych rock, post-punk and shoegaze. My man's definitely laid awake at night, sobbing without expression as he struggles to accept that Ada never really wanted him like he wanted her while listening to fucking Slowdive. My hottest take here is that he doesn't really listen to Deftones. Like he'll occasionally blast My Own Summer, Change, Bored or Rosemary, but anything outside of those? He just didn't listen to 'em. My second hottest take is that he does NOT like Slipknot, which kind of pains me 'cus I do, but I fucking bet you this dude would actually adopt one piece of "Gen Z lingo" or whatever just call them cringe. Though admittedly he would've been jamming the fuck out to Psychosocial and The Devil in I when they came out. Went off the deep end in Vendetta, obviously, and drunk-cried himself to sleep on the couch listening to Linkin Park.

Very confusing spending habits - On one hand, we all understand that Leon came from money, — he was implied to have been born into a mob family from my understanding? And I doubt he'd ever really had to worry about being fully, irrevocably broke, — but I'm sure that growing up in the U.S Foster Care System made him at least a little more cautious of where his money comes from, where it's going, what he's spending it on, etc. So, on the one hand, he's apprehensive to spend recklessly, particularly on perishables. But also, if he can drop over $100,000USD on a motorcycle that got absolutely fucking cheese grated into the road, and spend a perceived, metric fuck ton of money on designer leather jackets and massive watches, it's gonna be hard for me to call him 'financially conscious'. On one hand, he gets apprehensive on spending more money than he needs to on food since he's "just gonna shit it out later", but if he sees a cool watch or a nice suit in a shop window? Money's suddenly not an issue! Not because he's materialistic, but because the one thing he really maintains a sense of control over in his life are his possessions and the way he dresses. The D.S.O can call him in for another months long mission whenever they please, and all he can realistically do is allow the government to tug on his leash and put him where he's needed. He may as well spend their money on things he wants!

Gets out... enough? But also, not really? - So, personally I've pegged Leon as more of an introverted person, — amateurly typed his MBTI as possibly ISFJ? — so he doesn't really feel the need to go out and meet new people or really hang out with anyone. If somebody invites him out? Sure, he'll go. Otherwise, it rarely occurs to him to meet up with friends or colleagues at a cafe or anywhere. I think he'd prefer to just go there alone, mostly for the sake of having somebody else cook for him as opposed to actively seeking out the atmosphere. It's pure convience in his mind. And remember when I said in the beginning about him accidentally being at least a little misogynistic? Yeah, that was me trying to say that he regularly tries to hit on younger waitresses. Not because he actually wants anything to do with them, but simply because it's an ego boost. He likes that he can make girls half his age blush or offer him their numbers, because it tells him that he's still desirable, and ultimately, that gives him the power to reject them politely and go about the rest of his day. If they don't reject him first, of course. Admittedly, Leon's audacity towards women peaked during Infinite Darkness.

Since I'm planning on posting more NSFW headcanons for this guy, — and more NSFW kinds of posts, — here is the obligatory Minors DNI attachment. For your own safety, I don't care if what I have to say is tame so far, you can hold it off I promise.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy headcanons #babyfangs.txt #fangsfic #idk man im literally talking out my ass on all this 💀

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kimbapisnotsushi · 2 months

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miscellaneous high school shenanigans part two!!

tsukki's only ever been struck speechless twice in his life

the first was when hinata snuck into the mock training camp. the second was when he found out that kageyama didn't have any music taste whatsoever

after tsukki gets over the shock he's like "what do you MEAN you don't listen to music?? how do you just not listen to music??" and kageyama just shrugs and takes a slurp from his yogurt drink or whatever and goes "just don't"

i'm telling y'all kageyama doesn't listen to music the closest he gets is the rhythm of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor and hinata's bathroom song

also i think it'd be funny if yachi was just always taking cues from high school romance manga for living her life. right after becoming manager she picks up the first sports manga that catches her eye and uses that to guide her through the epic highs and lows of high school volleyball

hinata and kageyama: [yelling about something something passionate confession of emotional vulnerability something something partners and teammates something something reaching your dreams something something] yachi: oh my god . . . this is just like in slam dunk . . .

(i will be honest with you guys i have never seen slam dunk so i don't know if it matches anything in slam dunk but i respect slam dunk so i went with it)

honestly every day yachi is grateful she's living in a sports series because she does NOT think she could handle the backstabbing female love rival whose only purpose is to be mean to the female lead for getting involved with the male lead

i mean she COULD. but maybe after like thirty chapters of development and a major event.

(yachi thinks about this a lot. she rambles about her hypotheticals to tsukki and yamaguchi and although tsukki will never admit it, he finds it very entertaining)

i think konoha is really good at modern romance. i think he excels at the small everyday romantic things and makes people swoon without even realizing it. he's the fukurodani academy heartthrob but is completely oblivious to it

leans in to tuck an earbud into your ear when he wants to share music. walks you to where you need to go even if it's out of his way and never says anything about it. will take the stack of textbooks you've been asked to carry without a word. buys you a drink from the vending machine without being asked. really good at leaning against the wall/doorframes/over the window in a way that makes him look windswept and pretty.

just UGH konoha akinori i love him

the other third years would be soooooooo jealous but they get it. they too have fallen prey to his charms

on today's edition of making hq characters collect a random Thing™️ (following fukunaga + bucket hats): sakusa likes coasters

they're easy souvenirs from different places AND you can swap them out to match whatever you're feeling at the time!! plus they save his desk from water rings!!! they're functional, pretty, and he has less to clean up because of them!!!!

sakusa's favorite is this square white ceramic one with ginkgo leaves drifting off a tree painted onto it

(no it's not because iizuna-san got it for him as a bday gift or anything shut up motoya!!)

sakunami totally had a tiny tiny secret crush on asahi at some point

he just thinks asahi is really cool!!!! and handsome!!!! and maybe sakunami just wants to be cool and handsome too!!!!

sakunami has a really good poker face i guarantee you. nobody knows how wild his inner monologue is until they get him to open up around them

i mention this because one of the times dateko is discussing karasuno after a match with them (practice or otherwise), the others get around to talking about asahi and sakunami gives a dreamy lil sigh and is like "yeah . . . he's so strong . . . isn't it cool . . ." and everyone is just like. what the fuck

they were NOT expecting that from sakunami of all people and especially not about karasuno's ace

kogane is devastated because he doesn't think there's any way he could compete with asahi

cue the miscommunication in which kogane tries to be a little bit more like asahi to get sakunami to like him while sakunami wonders if kogane has a fever or something because he's been acting weird

ALSO keep in mind that kogane probably gets all his info about asahi from the rumors and whatnot so he's like "i have to be MEAN???? i have to BEAT PEOPLE UP???? i don't know how to beat people up!!!!! i can barely beat futakuchi-san in arm wrestling!!!!!"

sakunami please put the poor boy out of his misery the rest of dateko are SUFFERING

usuri is definitely the first to clock kiryuu's massive crush on bokuto. he's the first to realize that kiryuu is speeding down the highway in that direction even before kiryuu himself

kiryuu is like "wtf how did you know| and usuri is like "haha you know how perceptive i am!" when in reality he caught kiryuu sleep-talking about bokuto's muscles and how fluffy his hair looks

see also: akaashi on the fukurodani side realizing that bokuto has a major thing for kiryuu that bokuto is oblivious to

akaashi: hold on what—what did you just say??? bokuto: i SAID i wanted kiryuu to try holding me against the wall!! doesn't he look strong enough?? and he's so solid, i bet it'd feel really nice!! what do you think akaashi? akaashi, on the inside: god why can't i be of legal drinking age

conclusion: usuri and akaashi wingmanning bokiryuu while tripping headfirst into feelings for each other themselves

can you guys see my vision PLEASE tell me you guys see the vision usuaka would be so fucking funny

usuri is trying to woo akaashi via elaborately planned schemes that produce the perfect romantic atmosphere and situations but akaashi is too busy overthinking and analyzing every second they spend together that he simply does not notice. it's absolutely terrible and they need all the help they can get

it's okay, bokuto and kiryuu totally plan on returning the favor (mostly because bokuto really likes the idea of double dates)

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bethelighthalazia · 6 months

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Storytime

Summary: If you knew that this innocent question of your boyfriend would turn into hours of storytime, you would have lied.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: bf!Mingi X fem!reader

Word Count: 795

Warnings: none?, mentioning of Mingi´s hiatus

[note: This is actually how I was introduced to ATEEZ and their music, I just added some bf!Mingi delulu into the mix :3 This is just a little drabble I had to write down and post, hope you´ll enjoy <3]

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

You were spending so much time at the dorms by now, it was as if you lived here with the boys. It was the usual cozy evening, all of you gathered on the sofa to chat, you cuddled against your boyfriend's chest.

“Show us the video of us that made you like Ateez, please?” Mingi hummed all of a sudden, a slightly confused look on your face as you tilt your head up to see his eyes. “Like, which music video?” You asked, the others also looking very curious. After a nod from Mingi, you thought for a few moments, deciding what actually made you fall in love with Ateez’s music and their members. You were sure that you told Mingi already which one it was, so you just opened the YouTube app on the TV to pull up their ‘wonderland’ performance from kingdom - legendary war.

Tilting your head back with a smile, it quickly dropped when you noticed Mingi's expression, a frown forming on your features and you pressed pause. “Hey…what's wrong, Mings?” You ask quietly, biting your lower lip before then looking at the others. Kingdom had been during Mingi's hiatus,you knew that, but you also thought that you already told him that this was your first time seeing them. Apparently, you didn't tell him.

“Y- you fell in love with a performance I wasn't even in?” He wasn't able to hide the slight tremble in his voice, and this was the moment you realized that it maybe would be the best to explain.

“I- well, kind of…but it's the first thing I've heard from Ateez, Mings. My sister had watched that show and, because she complained about her laptop being too small to see the performances, I told her to watch it on TV. When she did, it was the wonderland performance of you guys and, admittedly, the first one I saw and asked about…was the ‘pretty faced guy with the cloak’.” You say with a little chuckle, rubbing the skin of your neck nervously, knowing how jealous Mingi can be sometimes. But this time, he just watches you, arms wrapped around your middle and his face nuzzled against your shoulder.

“That was Seonghwa, by the way…uh, well my sister then explained to me who you guys are, but that Mingi was not in the show during that time. At first, I thought ‘okay, they're really good, but I still don't like K-pop’, but then when listening to the rest, Jongho captured me with his voice. I remember that I kept calling him Mr high note, while my sister tried to help me with the names of you all.” This drew a chuckle from everyone and Jongho's ears blushed heavily at the hidden compliment. “And then, my sister showed me music videos, Halazia was one of the first and she even told me that the one I don't know yet is a rapper and since I don't like rap, I probably won't like him either. She was wrong. The moment Mingi showed up in the music video, I was doomed.”

“Yah! What about me, y/nnie?! I looked stunning in that MV!” Wooyoung whined and you nod, agreeing with him. “Oh yeah you absolutely did. All of you guys do. But Mingi- I don't really know why him, actually. I just fell in love with his voice and, I mean, look at this gorgeous man, guys!” You couldn't help but gush about your amazing boyfriend while searching for the music video of your favorite song. Then, when Mingi first appears, you pause and everyone can see the literal heart eyes you throw at him. “Just. Look. At. Him! This is by far my most favorite look of him, by the way. I think my first thought when I saw him was that his hands would make a great neckl-” Your eyes widened and you quickly shut yourself up by putting your hand on your mouth. Wooyoung's loud cackle just added to your embarrassment while the others couldn't stop grinning.

“Wait- so…you started to like Ateez because of your sister forcing you to watch kingdom? And then I became your bias and boyfriend?” Mingi asked, eyes wide, not making any remark about his hands being used as a necklace, but he'll definitely keep it in the back of his mind. “Hmh, exactly. Well, I couldn't decide on my bias for almost a month, to be honest…you all are so talented and, and you all are too well aware of it, so so handsome! But then my sister showed me more and more videos of you all and I realized that my heart belongs to Mingi and if I had to choose between one of you all, my answer would always be Mingi.”

taglist: @mingis-mizu

(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez mingi #ateez fluff

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sports-on-sundays · 10 months

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boulevard of broken dreams / LN4 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!reader - Not many people know how true loneliness feels. Not many people know how true love feels.

Warnings: lots of description, angst, mention of self-harm, loneliness, pain, mention of death of a family member, dreams ruined, emotional pain, getting drunk to ease pain, change from 2nd person to 3rd when it felt right, panicking, jumping to worst case scenario, nausea, screaming, confusion, questioning will to live, blood, kind of violent dramatic descriptions. PLEASE do not read if you seriously struggle with some things like this! I would hate to cause anyone to feel more pain!!

Requested?: Mate nah.

Author's Note: I just wanted to write a thing. Listened to sad piano music and Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day writing it. I hope you enjoy. Personally, I'm really proud of this one. Let's hope I got all the warnings in hah! Link to part 2

Sunshine, moonlight, daylight, night light, night life. On, off, under, over, around, on, and off again.

In the middle of your heart, if someone could dig deep down and pick through you, examine you, dissect you, they would find the softest little bleeding bit. But they would only find that after knocking down wall after all of slimy, tough, terribly dark black walls. No one would be able to find the strength to knock all those walls down. And even if they could, you'd never let them.

One can only be vulnerable if there is someone there to have their back.

All the vulnerability is pushed to that one little section of your heart; the most delicate place on earth.

All the pain.

It's impossible.

This road.

This road is made of brick and it's slippery. It's constantly raining. And you're constantly shivering. No one gave you an umbrella, because there's no one on this road to do so. Night after night, this rain beats on you. Your skin degrades away as if you were dead. For daytime does not exist on this road. You forget how sunlight looks. You constantly walk. Never wanting to sleep because the only place is the road. And you hate this road.

Yet it is your home, and any different would terrify you.

The friends on this road are the shadows. Shadows in the night caress your arms and kiss your cheeks, whispering of false realities, forgotten memories, and broken dreams.

On this boulevard of broken dreams.

There's no conscience of the pain any longer. You're so used to it, you're numb. And that's the way it should be. All you need is to survive.

You always ask yourself why. But if you're asking the question, why would you also know the answer?

There is no one on this road who knows the answer, and there never will be. If anyone knew the answer, then they wouldn't be on this road.

Stairways to heaven and highways to hell.

You're on the fast track to absolutely no where.

No one knows this road exists. You're one of the unseen. Most people live on the other side. They don't know this exists. Many of them are good people. They would help. If they could possibly stand it.

If they only knew. There's no way for you to call for help. All you hear is your voice echoing back at you as the dark starless sky closes in on you.

Like a snow globe. Never get in or out. Constant precipitation.

You're always shivering but you never get sick. At least not anymore.

Immunity.

Yes, and no one should be this immune.

No one should be this immune to this road.

Yet here you are.

On the boulevard of broken dreams.

9-5. 5-9. 24 hours non-stop.

Sunday is no different than Monday or Friday or Saturday or any other day of the week.

Money, money, money. Lots of people love it. Lots of people hate it.

Work, work, work. Get in the money to survive another day. Can't feel a thing because otherwise- how do you get through?

You get up, get dressed, get out the door, go to work, come home, get drunk, go to bed, and repeat it all over again.

Forever.

It's amazing how fast hope can be shattered with the cruel bitterness of this unfair world.

"Mama! I'm going to be a superhero!"

"Mama, I'm gonna be a football player."

"Mama! Mama! I've got it! I'm going to be a race car driver!"

And that time, you meant it.

Well, maybe you didn't, because it never came to pass. And your parents knew it. There was no way. Your family couldn't survive without government money.

But how can you explain that to a little kid? A little kid who had been told all her life that if you follow your dreams, they'll come true?

When you hold on to those dreams so hard, it's even more difficult to let them go. When you realized reality, you were ruined.

You were resigned to the fact that because of your position in society, broken heart, especially after your father passed away at a young age, and no chance to do what you dreamed of forever, that 9-5 in pain for the rest of your life was the path you were on.

The fast track to no where.

There's a girl in the corner, in the shadow, that no one would ever notice. High life superstars, and she's missing her heroes. Drunk, drunk, drunk.

She's missing them.

But one of them doesn't miss her.

Despite the crowd, despite the fun, the throng, the laughter, the music, the everything perfect after a good race, Lando sees.

He sees the girl in the corner that no one else ever notices.

"Do you need help?" in the gentlest of tones. He bends down, looking the broken, shell of a person, right through everything and into her eyes. Like he doesn't see the eye bags, the messed up hair, the cuts on her arms, the vacancy. Like he sees beyond the walls. Like he just wants to see the true person who has to be in there. Somewhere.

"Yeah," she murmurs. Her words slur, making it terribly difficult for the buzzed Formula One driver to understand her words. "Can you... get me another drink?"

You wake up the next morning, and as soon as you realize you don't remember what happened last night and you're in an unfamiliar bed and room, you feel your stomach drop. Your head feels like it's about to explode with the extreme ache in it. Nausea wells up and you swallow, filling yourself overflow with utter panic. The rate of your breath picks up, and as your chest rises and falls quicker and quicker, even if you wanted to call for some sort of help (if anyone would even come), you can't. You can hardly breathe, your vision becoming swirling and confusing as you gasp, feeling as if you're going to suffocate. You heartbeat pounds in your head faster and faster, and you realize that if anything happened right now, you'd have no way to save yourself. This sinks more extreme anxiety, and even more when you think of what could have already happened when you were drunk last night. What if you're stuck here, confused and panicking, with some creep who did unspeakable things to you last night-

The door to the room slowly swings open, and you cover your face in your heads, unable to set your eyes on whoever is there, just trying to breathe- stay alive- yet you're not even sure you want to keep living at this point.

"Hey, hey, hey," a soft speaking male voice says. You feel him come closer, and slip on the bed next to you. "Hey, I'm not here to hurt you," he practically whispers. "I brought you to my home, but only because... you were a wreck last night. Listen to me..." He speaks soothingly, but you still don't look up. "Listen. I think you might be having a panic attack, or something adjacent. And I'm here to help you, not hurt you. Okay?"

You nod, staring down. Just one hot tear slowly rolls down your cheek.

"Can I take your hand?"

You hesitate, before nodding. You feel the thin, strong, smooth hand slip into yours. "Breathe with me, okay?" he says softly, then starts taking in slow, deep breaths. With every inhale, he gently squeezes your hand, and with every exhale, gently releases it.

You go on like this, and once you've sighed, confident enough of your safety, you let go of the man's hand and look up at him.

For a second, you stare.

And then it clicks.

And your jaw drops.

"Are you... you..." you stutter in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm Lando," he smiles.

You stare in shock at the man. "As in, like, the McLaren..."

"Yeah," he grins softly. "And I'll be right back, okay?"

"Lando-!" you squeal with a terrible, exhausted voice crack. Your emotions are so messed up right now.

He comes back and gives you a plate of food, sitting down next to you. You ignore the food for a moment and fix your eyes on him.

"Why am I here?" you ask softly.

"You needed help and I decided to give it."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You exhale slowly. "O- Okay.." These words from him are so strange to you. So unfamiliar. "I..." Suddenly, expected emotions well up within you. Uncommonly. You throw your arms around him and murmur, "Thank you... you're the... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me in years... And it's you. I must be in a dream... You're one of the reasons I'm still here... I love Formula One... I love... I love you..."

He hugs you back, before gently prodding, "Why don't you try to eat a bit."

You nod and turn to the little breakfast he's made. It's a bit bland, but you're glad for that. You're not feeling nearly at your best.

But at the same time, you're sitting next to Lando Norris.

Bittersweet and confusing.

"Thank you..." you murmur again.

"Of course you can say no," Lando starts. "But can I know your name? What's your story?"

You sigh. What hurt can it do to tell him? "Y/n. And I don't have much of a story."

"Really? Seems to me you'd have a pretty interesting one."

You shrug. "Just another broken life. There are plenty of those out there, Lando Norris."

"Clearly every broken life is important. Consider yourself."

You sigh. "Your story is the opposite of mine. Grew up rich, followed your dreams, perfect life."

There's a certain softness in his eyes. "What were your dreams?"

"Same as yours..." you murmur, your voice cracking. You hesitate, before finishing, "All I wanted was to be a race car driver. Nothing else more than that. And I would've done anything for it. If I could have."

Lando stares. You eat. There's a strange silence, before he says, "Did you kart?"

"For some years. It lasted about one and a half. Then my father passed away, and everything changed. Even more."

He stares down. "I'm sorry..." But then he looks up, his intense eyes meeting yours. He looks even better in real life. "Y/n, your story makes me so sad. I'm so sorry... I... I'd do anything I could to help you fulfill your dream, at least somewhat."

You look surprised. "Why? You have the perfect life. Why do you care? Besides, we both know full well it's too late for me."

He blinks and seems to ignore your last comment, likely because it's true and he doesn't want to admit it. "Because I have the perfect life. You deserve to be in Formula One just as much as me. Yet, we're... Well, in opposite places."

"Right..." You can hardly believe these words.

"You seem like such a... Well, something stole your innocence too soon. There's so much longing and brokenness and love in your eyes but you're just... A shell of the beautiful woman that's inside of you."

You blink. "Why do you say that?"

He murmurs after more hesitation, "Last night when you were drunk, you know what you did? Well you cried and you told me your struggles, yes. But before I was about to leave the room and let you sleep, you looked at right me and you said something like, 'I'm so lonely. Where did my life go? I can't stand this much longer. Sometimes I wish I just had someone- a friend, a neighbor, a boyfriend, a sibling- sometimes I wish I just had someone there for me.'"

You stare, now unblinking, unsure what to feel. It is true, isn't it?

Lando looks you straight in the eyes. Past everything. Into your most delicate, secret spot.

You fight back from letting yourself choke up.

"Y/n, if no one else will do it, I'd ought to be that person there for you. And I'd love to."

Moist and foggy, so nothing is visible. There are echoes of life in the outside world, but not on this road.

For the first time in years, your tired feet have stopped. Perhaps done. Had it with this. They're bloody and twisted from the years of this pain.

Where has the numbness gone?

The rain pours down

on this road

and you can't tell

if those are teardrops

or raindrops

streaming down your cheeks.

Suddenly, you see a light. A light that has found the end of the road that you've been searching for for years.

Don't lose it. Don't lose it.

You could use some company.

As the light nears, it hurts. You double over and fall down in the puddles of the road, screaming in pain. You're so used to the darkness. For years it's all you've known. The light hurts. It's terrifying.

The light comes closer and closer, faster and faster, and panic fills you, realizing there's no escape. Your eyes burn and you sob for it to let you go.

You hate this road. So why do you cry, begging to stay?

You tremble as the light approaches, covering your skin.

But when it reaches you, the expected terror is not what you experience. Instead, it's a feeling unfamiliar to you. Something that only the shadows would taunt you with. But this is it. The real one.

Tranquility.

Suddenly the beating of the rain stops.

You look up.

An umbrella.

And shining eyes.

You heart breaks once again, but this time you mind a bit less.

It's scary, but just what you wanted.

This light, this man, this sunshine.

This sunshine takes your hand and pulls you up. This sunshine leads you off this road. This boulevard of broken dreams.

This sunshine has come in and knocked down the walls.

Seen what's hidden. Stepped away and stepped into your misery. To help you.

A smile so bright.

And for the first time in forever.

You step off this road and you see the stars.

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eyesxxyou · 9 months

Note

Never smoked weed (or anything at all) in my life. And Oh my God, Hobie would be SUCH a good teacher. So fucking gay with it too

Wrapping his big fingers around your jaw, thumbing at the soft skin of your bottom lip urging you to open your mouth. Blowing smoke into your mouth to get you used to it, before gently placing the blunt in your mouth

I'd let him shotgun me and make me as high as he wants.

-🐘

I WROTE SOMETHING LIKE THIS BUT NEVER POSTED IT!

Here it is!

The flat smelled like weed. Your roommate, Hobie, was smoking. You didn't like it. He was otherwise a great roommate. Cleaned up after himself, remained considerate of the time and didn't listen to his music on full blast when you were trying to sleep, and kept his visitors to a minimum.

You didn't bother to put any clothes on, walking around your room in a pair of panties and a small tee. With a groan, you rolled out of bed and left your room to open up a window. It needed to air out or the smoke would stain everything in its vicinity. It’s not that you hated the smell either. It was just so pungent.

Walking out into the living room where Hobie was rolling his own joint with another sitting neatly between his full lips. His nimble fingers handled the thing delicately, rolling it up and using his tongue to seal it. Before tucking it behind his pierced ear. “Look a’ tha’. Ya come ‘ere to put on a show f’me then?”

You ignore him for your own sake, ignore the heat permeating your face as you suddenly realize how much you’re revealing in front of him, and go around cracking windows. You don't say anything to reprimand him, far too timid to do so. All you want is to go back to your room and hide away from his prying eyes.

“Wai’, dove. C’mere fo a bit.” Hobie motioned you over with two flicking fingers and you halted, watching as he took a long drag of his joint and let smoke tumble from between his lips and float up to disappear within the air. It mingled with the air so delicately, you wanted to mingle with him the very same way.

You fiddle with your fingers and hesitantly make your way over to him just in your panties and a tiny tee shirt. You aren't even eating a bra. How embarrassing. Can he see your nipples? The mound of your love?

You stand before him and Hobie motions you closer before patting his thigh. “Come on, luv. Ya won't break me. Sit.” His voice held a gentle persuasion. It didn't demand, didn't threaten, it was all but a suggestion. A silent, ‘if you want to’ implied by his tone.

And you wanted to. Oh how his lap looked so inviting, spread and open like a seat waiting for you. Was every one of his manspreads simply an invitation for you to sit in his lap?

You shuffled closer and stiffly, awkwardly, sat in his lap. Hobie wrapped a hand around your back and held you close. His fingers stroked the small of your back just above your ass, his thumb against your spine. “Relax.” He muttered. “Ya shakin’ like a scared puppy.” Hobie let out a smokey chuckle and looked at you with low eyes and a pretty smile.

You watch him smoke while his fingers tangle themselves into the band of your panties at your hip. You don't stop him, never even thought of it. His skin was hot, fingers calloused as they rub into the bare flesh of your hip.

You eye the joint between his fingers. You were never a fan of the smell but you were always curious what it was like. You had never smoked in your youth for reasons unknown. Your parents weren't overly strict, your friends occasionally did it but you never partook in it. Maybe you were waiting for the right time and this felt better than any.

Hobie’s fingers stroked your hip lazily, coy laughter escaping his lips. “Ya wanna try, lovie?” He offered the joint to you, the place where his lips once sat now in front of your own lips. You look at him unsure. “Go ahead.” He nods his head at you with an encouraging spark in his eye. His grip tightened on you and you felt safe enough to try it.

You shake your head, looking away. “I never–” you rub your neck sheepishly. How cute, he thought and turned the joint back to him. “Takin’ ya virginity then?” He chuckled in a baritone that had you swooning even further for him. “We’ll go slow then, yeah? Ion like t’be rough.”

He took a long, slow drag of his joint, the end glowing with embers that turned to ash. You watched, fascinated, your lips parted and eyes wide. Hobie took the joint from his hip and held it between his fingers as he went and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in. He eased his lips on yours, a full lock, and let the smoke billowing from his mouth and into yours.

It was easy to take it that way, his sweet lips on yours, kissing you between hits so you can taste the smoke. His hand holds your jaw with each smokey kiss, each one leaving you a little dizzier and you aren't sure if it’s from the weed or him making you so high.

You two go on like this for a while before you decide you’re ready to take a real hit from the joint that was almost out. Hobie’s more than happy to share, handing it off to you as you hold it with pinched fingers.

You placed your lips on the end of the joint and took a sharp inhale. Immediately, your throat and lungs filled with smoke and ash and you let out a smokey cough, nose scrunching as you shook your head.

Hobie stroked your back just above your low-hanging panties. “Try again. Slowa this time.”

And you did try again. You took a slow drag and felt the smoke fill your mouth before you released it past your lips. It almost tickled. You shuddered softly and looked at Hobie as you giggled.

“Good job, luv. Good boy.” Hobie hummed softly and watched you take another hit with a little more confidence. You lean into him and kiss him again, harder than before, with more want and vigor.

Hobie chuckled, smiling into your kiss as he slipped his hand past the band of your panties, his long fingers dipping between your lips to find your sweet little spot.

“Go ‘head. Take anotha hit.”

#hobie x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x ftm!reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown fic #{inbox fics}#{eye's inbox}#{👁️ inbox}#{ drabble }

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crplpunkklavier · 2 years

Text

idk. i read an article the other day about how the structure of pop songs is changing. how producers advise artists now to put the best part--choruses, hooks--right at the beginning, or at least within the first 30 seconds of the song, because otherwise people will scroll right past on tiktok and instagram.

idk. the same article explained that songs are getting shorter and shorter because you need people to loop you on spotify to make any money at all, and of course a 2 minute song is looped more than a 5 minute song, just sort of due to how time works.

idk. can i fault artists for wanting to make a living? but how dreadful to make art like this.

idk. i've always been a defender of pop music despite feeling at home in punk, because i don't think there's anything bad in humans sometimes wanting something simple, something easy to listen to, something immediately relatable. it's an idea that dates back all the way to romanticism. sometimes all we want is to dance and sing along and know that everyone everywhere feels heartbreak.

but idk! that's the consumer end of it. do we really want to be catered to like this? do we want to be presented with music that is cut and rearranged and bastardized and bastardized and bastardized all so it can catch our constantly waning attention? who needs to change first? one of us will have to.

and idk! the article somewhat nonchalantly ended by saying that "of course," there are some genres where people will still appreciate longer songs, "like rock and techno," as if rock artists aren't struggling to pay bills all the same.

idk, man. i'm old enough to remember hearing a song on the radio, or even fucking mtv, and going out the next day to buy the full album with my pocket money, just hoping it'll be as good as that one song. and if it wasn't, was that really so bad? i'd rip my favorites off the cd to burn my own mixtape, and then i'd sell the cd to someone else, for them to enjoy. but those were different times. sometimes i find artists that don't offer cds anymore at all.

idk. idk. i'm going to uninstall every app and handwrite a letter to sony to demand all songs be a minimum of 8 minutes long. figure it out.

#idk!#this was supposed to be shorter and funnier but. idk.#i remember being in advanced music in grade 13 with all my punk boys and violin girls and we all vowed to each other to #never write ad jingles for a living. because that seemed like the worst possible thing to do with our talent #selling your soul to profit #now it seems like all popular music is that #so idk #oh yeah article sourced but its german because im german. tschuldigung

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writersdrug · 1 year

Text

Random Konig Headcanons

I have writer's block for Ch. 2 of I Don't Need You, so here's a treat for you and a palate cleanser for me. Enjoy! Short but fun. Established relationship. Let me know if you guys want an NSFW Pt. 2!

He definitely listens to Rammstein. While he works out or showers, he's playing their music, and similar bands. Sometimes - hardly ever - you're lucky enough to catch him humming along.

He's a little bit of a control freak. He likes his desk to be neat, with a specific spot for his coffee cup, a pen, pencil and sharpie always within reach, and his chair always pushed in when he wasn't in it. He also folds everything, shirts, pants, socks, you name it. Not a single piece of clothing crumpled or dropped on the floor (which, of course, you never complained about). For this very reason, he hated when he lived in shared dorms with people who just dropped their shit near their cot and called it a day. He was so relieved to get his own room, tidy and orderly.

That sniper hood gets MUSTY after missions. When you see him, first thing after he returns to base, your first instinct is to lift the hood and kiss him underneath it. The first time you tried that, however, was the last time, after you caught a whiff of two weeks worth of unwashed face and sweaty t-shirt. He laughed at your near-death-experience there, before you sent him off to wash up. He sat in your shared room, sniper mask off and in the wash, just breathing in the clean air and enjoying being out of that thing for a few moments.

He's definitely forgotten to lift the hood before he moves a bite of food into this mouth. Same with water or coffee.

He loves observing you. Not in a creepy, perverted, peeping-tom kinda way. But he loves to watch you talk about something, getting lost in your own world when you do. Especially when you talk about your interests and stories. He loves to watch your mannerisms when you do everyday tasks; like the way you purse your lips to the right side when you're concentrating, the way your nose scrunches at the end of a yawn, the way you love to wrap around his bicep when the two of you are sitting together. Again, pretty typical things, but the way you do them is what makes it so interesting to Konig.

If he's angry, he goes to you. You'll listen to him vent, and you'll be perfectly honest with him - whether he is right to be mad, or if you think he should try to see it from the other point of view. And he listens to you because you're honest. Other people would be too scared and would just agree with him regardless.

If you're mad, he knows to stay quiet and let you get it all out. If you want solutions, you'll ask. Otherwise, he's on listening duty.

If you get mad at him, it never turns into a full-blown argument. When it comes to you, Konig makes sure to listen to everything you have to say, only speaking when you've finished your part. He never raises his voice at you, and he really does try to see it from your eyes. Even if he does end up disagreeing with you, he always says it with kindness and love. Sometimes it irks you, how good he is at being so... amazing, as a human being.

It's unspoken, but when you casually need help from him, he feels like the strongest man on earth. When you ask him to reach something for you (sometimes he'll show off by lifting you towards whatever it is, rather than getting it himself), or even when you ask him to help you find something. He just likes feeling like he is needed and appreciated.

Sometimes you'll ask him to help braid your hair, because you're "just too tired" after your shower - which is bullshit. You just love the feeling of his hands running through your hair, freshly shampooed and conditioned or not. Konig knows this, but is happy regardless. He's really good at braiding your hair now, and he's just happy to have the quality time and physical touch with you.

He especially loves it when he gets to carry you around, which isn't too often. But he loves when you get just a little too tipsy at the bar with the team. You'll challenge Soap to shots every single time, arguing that last time was different and that you've built up your tolerance since then. Of course, you'll end up nodding off at the bar after three shots or so, while Soap is mostly still sober. Konig gets to pick you up - bridal style or sack-of-potatoes style - in front of the guys, saying it's time for the two of you to head back. He loves being able to show everyone that he's your protector, your designated person. He's the one you chose out of everyone there, and damn if that doesn't feel good...

He adores it when the two of you cuddle, especially when you're both on your sides, his face nuzzled in right below your chest, with his arms wrapped around your waist. You'll be leaning against the headboard, arms wrapped around his head, one hand running your fingers through his soft hair. He'll be so tall that his feet might be hanging off of the end of the bed, but he doesn't care. He's too preoccupied with planting soft kisses onto your stomach while you hum contentedly.

As much as you do, Konig LOVES when you play with his hair. He'll sit in his office chair, eyes closed, sniper hood in his hand, while you sit on his desk behind him and run your fingers through his soft locks. You'll braid a small group of strands, then unravel and comb it out with your fingers. Sometimes it put him to sleep, it's so damn relaxing. Of course, half of what makes it relaxing is your presence, and your soft humming while you work. Other times, when you're feeling a little left out of the fun, you'll start tugging gently on his hair, pulling a little harder each time, until Konig starts groaning with desire, knuckles white as he clenches the arms of his chair. Soon after, he shows you why it was a dangerous idea to toy with him so innocently.

Overall, Konig is a simple man with simple needs: to be needed, to be wanted, and to be appreciated. He wants to be seen as the caring and thoughtful person he tries to be, and he wants to feel like you love him just as much as he loves you.

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig headcanons #call of duty #cod #konig fanfiction #konig imagine

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 6 months

Note

Hello, and happy easter everyone! ^^

I don't know if you remember the autistic teen!reader request with the ROR family, and I certainly haven't made another request in a while, heh. Anyways, I would like to ask for a part two where reader is comforted after overstimulation.

The reason? Too much noise, a harsh heat wave so I was sweating excessively, strong perfume and uncomfortable clothes. I was about to throw up but thank God I finished what I was doing and came back home. Yes, I am projecting once again for my request. 🥲

Thing is, reader locks themselves in their room for about an hour, and comes out seeking for Poseidon and Hades to calm down with silent company at first. I personally think that those two, especially Poseidon, would be helpful in a situation like that (of course, in the ooc context) because they are quite levelheaded and quiet, which is what I need most of the time rather than words sometimes because processing auditory information can be a pain when you are on edge.

So that would be it, just reader sitting in silence with them for some time until they are comfortable to start speaking about what happened, definitely doing any kind of physical stimming, trying to understand the situation and then resume their activities together. Think I made it a bit too long and I apologize for it, haha. Have a nice day! 🩵

-It had been a bit upsetting to see you come in after school without saying hello to any of them, opting to go straight up to your bedroom instead, closing the door behind you.

-When you closed the door, that’s when your family knew that you needed a bit of space, as you never closed your door unless you were upset or if you needed some alone time.

-They knew that, due to you not saying anything, being non-verbal, that you were overstimulated, which was confirmed shortly after, when Eve called your teacher, and found out that there was an assembly at your school that had lots of music. Pairing that with the dancing and cheering, it was easy to determine that you had been overwhelmed.

-It was never the same, when you got overstimulated, with how you were going to react. One time you were better in about ten minutes, other times you had mentally shut down for half a day, another time you threw up, but they were going to be careful on monitoring you, just to make sure you would be okay.

-It was a little over an hour later when you came out, you were quiet, still not talking when you peeked into the living room. They knew not to stare at you, opting for small glances instead.

-Eve approached you with a warm smile, wanting to know if you wanted anything to eat, but you shook your head, not meeting her eyes as you looked around the room.

-You saw Poseidon and you immediately went over to him, lifting your arms up and he reached down, slowly, to not scare you, and pulled you up to sit beside him on the couch, letting you lean against him, but not touching you otherwise.

-Poseidon and Hades were your go to people when you got overstimulated, Hades because he had years of practice, being around for so long, but Poseidon was so patient with you, he would basically let you do or talk about anything, and that was comforting for you.

-Many were worried, not wanting you to get sick, but seeing you holding onto Poseidon’s free hand, as he was reading a book in his other, was a good sign, as normally when you were like this you didn’t want to touch anyone or let anyone touch you.

-Just sitting there, listening to the various conversations, looking at the different family members, a few who saw you looking giving you small smiles, you slowly calmed down even more, slowly feeling better.

-You gave Poseidon’s hand a small squeeze, making him look down at you, but you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at Eve, “Snack?”

-She immediately smiled, offering you her own hand, “What would you like today? Or should we explore our options?” You took her hand, sliding off the couch, looking back at Poseidon who gave you a ghost of a smile before heading to the kitchen where you found Hercules and Loki, eating their own snacks.

-Your family knew that you would be okay, it just takes time and patience, something they’re always willing to give to you.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror eve

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ochrearia · 2 months

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RGB Trio according to my Synesthesia

Been mentioning it on and off for a bit but I experience the world differently. "What is a Synesthesia Portrait?" Good question! I have synesthesia, specifically the one that connects hearing and sight called Chromesthesia. What that means is sounds/songs will trigger visions of shapes and colors for me whenever I listen. Due to this music is a super important part of how I process the world in general, and what I grew up learning was to perceive people's personalities as music too. Everyone has a song out there that encapsulates who they are to me! Even fictional characters if I know enough. So, I bridge the gap and make it so people/characters have these abstract portraits of themselves. Stylized, of course, in reality these forms are much more blurred together than crisp in lines. I just paint them in this way to make it a little more understandable.

I've been a little disconnected from making synesthesia art for some time and this is my way of getting back into it. Turning my blorbos into art because I'm cringe and free. "But they don't really have personalities in FNF" you underestimate my ability to derive pieces of people from the smallest "insignificant" actions. I pay ATTENTION. Here's their songs in order of BF, GF, and Pico-

BF, and I describe him as a goddamn tranquilizer dart to the head because it's correct. Despite being a gremlin piece of shit he's dedicated and confident and stupidly, brainlessly fearless. And his intentions can come off very sweet regardless of him being a menace. Dude's passionate about what he thinks is right and fights for it. Weird how he always seems to win like he overpowers everyone with his own sound, talks them down and placates them without ever needing actual words.

GF, because she may also be a bit (a lot) brainless but it's with an air of mischief and mysticism that feels like dancing a waltz. She seems like the sweetest and kindness person out there because honestly, she probably is. Despite being dumb she's definitely hiding emotional smarts in that pretty head. And she's strong too, strong within herself and strong because she's a demon. But no matter what and no matter how little we end up really seeing her she manages to capture the attention like the way a violin's strings pierce through any sound.

Pico, because he's lived through so much bad and maybe he might end up considering himself bad and unredeemable too. Playing into the idea he's a merciless killer who can be bought into doing anything terrible but he didn't pull the trigger when he was supposed to, twice. Loyal and moral when it comes to the people he cares about. Outwardly spiky and cold like a snowstorm but at the center it's only a soft flurry, lonely and wondering if he's really a lost cause or not. But it's okay, he's got friends that stick around and think otherwise.

#OchresArt #friday night funkin #I could have rambled more but im self-conscious :')#You get 1 (one) fnf related tag thats all im strong enough for #drops this and runs away #Spotify

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quinloki · 1 year

Note

ooh for the ask game cross guild besties with begging, pet play and hair tugging please!!!

Good News Anon - I wanna do all four XD

Begging, Pet Play, and Hair Tugging: With Buggy, Sir Crocodile, Mihawk AND Killer \o/

Let's just get right into this ♥

Buggy:

Begging - FUCK Yes - Buggy himself is pretty good at begging (He's had lots of practice bumbling his way through one terrible situation after the other, let's be fair.) but He really likes it when you beg him. The sweet look on your voice, the certain tone your voice gets, the way you reach for him. It's all really flashy, and it's all a turn-on.

You're so sweet when you're begging, but the sounds you make when he's pleasing you are even better, so he never makes you beg for too long. He will urge you to be more flashy (read: more vulgar), sometimes, but usually he just listens to you.

Pet Play - Yes - He's not likely to lead you around the ship on a leash or anything, but he'll lean into it behind closed doors if it's your thing. He'll run the line of simply using pet names for you, to having you do tricks for him, all the way to not letting you talk. Pets don't speak, after all, you'll just have to communicate how you're doing in more primal ways.

Hair Tugging - Oh god you don't even know - Buggy has some beautiful locks of hair all on his own, and he certainly doesn't mind when you tug his hair. He's probably got a soft spot for having you brush it out or play with it.

But he loves to pull your hair. The little gasps that escape you, that sweet almost orgasmic sound when he pulls you around just right the right way. He'd kill for those sounds. If your hair's not the long, or you're not keen on having it pulled, then he'll live with it, but he might be asking you to tug on his more often than he would otherwise.

Sir Crocodile:

Begging - FUCK Yes - Your smart, you have to be to keep up with Crocodile in the first place, he's sure your vocabulary is reflexive of that. Bonus if you know a couple other languages/dialects. He's quite certain you can be creative and descriptive in your begging. What exactly do you want from him, or what do you want to do to him? Use your words, love, and keep those sly hands under control until he gives you permission to use them.

Pet Play - FUCK Yes - He's into it. He might even lead you around the mansion on a leash if he wants, having you crawling beside him. If you're into that then it would be a reward, otherwise it could very easily turn into a punishment.

He'll run the line on it, from not allowing you to "speak", all the way to feeding you treats for being good. He's got a bit of a soft spot for the animals as a general rule, so I can see him being subconsciously nicer to you during these kinds of sessions.

Hair Tugging - Yes - He actually prefers to play with your hair than to tug it. He enjoys combing it out, or just massaging your head. Whatever kind of hair you have, those magical fingers of his will feel almost like water, snaking their way through even the curliest of locks.

But those same deft fingers will certainly snatch you up by the hair and pull. The sharp tug that demands a gasp from you, and the tight grip that causes you to mewl for him. He'll even guide/force you where he wants you by the hair if that's what you want, but he'd much rather force your hand, than force you by hand.

Killer:

Begging - FUCK Yes - Oh please do beg. Use your words, your hands, your mouth - Killer will control how much pawing you can do to him easily enough, but he loves all the sounds. He loves that desperate look on your face, the pout that crosses your lips when he pulls you back and holds you in place. The frantic look in your eyes as you try to think of better words to convince him.

It doesn't matter what you're begging for, it's all music to his senses. His favorite thing is to tease you while you're begging and listening to your attempts shiver and shatter as his hands and lips break your train of thought.

Pet Play - Yes - He'll get toys and accessories for you, leaning into it as much as you like him too. His rating of it might even go up if there's other kinks he's into thrown into session (like begging, bondage, etc.) Pet play on its own won't do much for him, but he's also okay with pleasing you. Killer's the kind of dom that'll get you one of those butt plug tails, and take his time working it in.

Hair Tugging - FUCK Yes - Killer's like 80% hair by volume. He knows how to take care of it, control it, use it, etc. He enjoys having his hair pulled almost as much as he enjoys pulling someone else's hair. I feel like him and Kid both are just good at it (Kid maybe likes it a little more).

Killer will let your hands disappear into his hair, and he'll tug, twist, twirl, curl, straighten, pull and tug your hair as much as you'll let him. He's into the sensual side of it, but he can also drag you by your hair and you'll be surprised to find that it doesn't *hurt* - it's not pleasant - well, not unless it is pleasant, but he never pulls your hair out because of it.

Mihawk: (Bonus!)

Begging - Oh god you don't even know - Mihawk's idea of begging is a little different than most. It's elegant. If you're not sure how to beg properly he'll teach you. Proper posture, proper tone. You may be saying the most disgraceful and needy words, but there's no reason to be an animal about it. It's a very corsets and lace kind of vibe, and the leather glove that caresses your skin makes your heart race as much as the sharp eyes watching you.

Of course you'll beg so sweetly just for him to begin, and the real trick will be keeping your tone under control as the pleasure washes over you again and again. Just how long can you beg properly?

Pet Play - Sure - He'll oblige, but it goes against his usual preferences. Though if you're leaning more toward the variety that includes, say, obedience training, he might show a little more passion than he would otherwise.

Hair Tugging - Oh god you don't even know - When your posture's good and you've been begging so sweetly, you deserve to be rewarded. He loves to bury his hands in your hair and move you as he pleases. Exposing your neck to the lips and teeth he desires to place upon it, bringing your mouth to places he wishes it be. Your hair is just the perfect way to do all these things. He does admire the way it frames your face, how it shifts when he's deep inside you, how it glistens with effort and sweat whether his hands are in or not.

I think he's also really good at doing hair. I don't know why, but he seems like someone who would provide you an act of service (especially during aftercare) where he wouldn't just wash your hair, it'd be the whole spa treatment.

#kinky one piece head canon #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #killer one piece #dracule mihawk #x reader #buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #killer x reader

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Text

OPEN WOUNDS

Alright, alright, I just know people are gonna get mad at me but I'm having Maze Runner burn out, and the requests I have are throwing me through a loop right now lmao. (Requests are still closed.) So, I thought I'd write something different to get me out of my hole- my own idea. Yeah, I know, Petri writing their own original plot? Mad.

Hope I've got at least one OBX fan in my audience.

MASTERLIST | JJ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Fem! Reader x JJ Maybank. Enemies to lovers.

You and JJ have a tense relationship - you always have. But, both of you coming from rough home lives, you've both resorted to the Chateau and John B as your saviour. Neither of you talk about it, but you know more about JJ than you let on. Though, tonight is the night. With John B out with Sarah and JJ's dad out of town, you finally have the Chateau to yourself - until things don't go quite as planned.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, themes of physical abuse, generally depressing subject matter, no depiction of actual violence just the aftermath but still trigger warning for abuse. Also some friends references.

Ah.

The sweet relief of silence.

Between yours and JJ's bickering, the constant string of girls flooding through the Chateau, the parties, the drinking and John B's terrible music taste - the Chateau is normally a chaotic bundle of angsty teenagers. But not tonight.

Tonight, John B is on a date, Pope and Kie are at their respective homes, and JJ's father is out of town, resulting in him going home for his own peace. Probably, because he doesn't actually want to be stuck in the house with just you.

But that's fine by you.

You're not really sure why you and JJ hate each other so much. You swear blind that he started it, but he says otherwise. You were childhood friends with Pope, and JJ with John B - so when John B befriended Pope, you both just ended up tagging along. Now, you're a certified Pogue, and you're close with everyone, even Sarah.

Apart from JJ.

John B says you're just too similar to get along, Pope thinks it's because you're both too stubborn, Kie reckons it's because there's some underlying tension you both refuse to admit. But it doesn't really matter why, in your opinion.

And Kie is clearly wrong.

Though, when shit hit the fan at your place and you decided to seek refuge at the Chateau, you kinda sorta forgot that JJ was there for the same reasons.

You've tried, okay? You have tried to get along with him. To make things less awkward, if just for the sake of the other Pogues more than anything else.

But it just doesn't work.

JJ knows how to push your buttons, and no matter how calm and collected you try to be, most of your interactions end in an argument.

But not tonight.

Because he isn't here.

You lay, spawled on the couch, wearing a long worn band tee as a dress as you scroll through your phone, an episode of friends playing on the TV in the background. You think it's the one where Chandler gets handcuffed to a filing cabinet - but you're really not paying attention, nor do you remember the actual name of the episode. You mindlessly dive your hand into the bag of potato chips resting on your stomach, laughing at some TikTok Pope had sent you.

Between work, school, and arguing with a pretty surfer boy, you very rarely get time to actually just chill out and relax. You've not even bothered to get up and turn the lights on, the thin shine of the moonlight and the electronic flicker from the TV being the only things stopping you from walking into something when you eventually stand up.

Not that you intend on standing up anytime soon.

Things are going well. You might even be able to have a shower without JJ thinking he's hilarious and stealing your clothes. Or maybe even listen to music without him blasting his own music even louder.

Life is good, sometimes.

Just as you're smiling to yourself about how good your evening is, the door is violently yanked open and then slammed again, scaring the shit out of you.

"Jesus!" You jump, looking over the back of the sofa, it's too dark to make him out properly, but his trademark red cap and locks of blond escaping his choice of head wear give you a pretty good hint. "Maybank? The hell? Aren't you meant to be at home for once?"

You're too angry that he's interrupted your pleasant evening to realise that he's in clear distress.

"Fuck off, (Y/N)." He spits, leaving you in a state of shock. That's blunt and forward, even for him.

"What-?"

"Leave me alone." He says sharply, going into the spare room where he sleeps and slamming the door.

You sit there in a bubble of confusion for a couple of seconds before huffing and returning to your original position on the couch. "Whatever."

Your peace only lasts a few seconds as you hear a loud crash from inside the room. You sit up, silently, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off to see if you heard that correctly.

There's more crashing and banging as undoubtedly JJ has some kind of rage induced meltdown. That's when your phone buzzes. You open it, reading the message:

Pope

I thought Luke was out of town???

You

Huh???? He is??

Pope

I just saw him???

Went to the corner store and he was smoking outside

You

????

I thought JJ said he was gone for the week??

Pope

Is JJ at the Chateau??

I can't get ahold of him

You

Yeh

Burst in about five minutes ago

Pope

Can you check on him for me

You

Are you fr rn?

Pope:

Pls

You groan, tossing your phone to the side as you stand up. You stop in your tracks when you realise that the noises have stopped. The house is now completely and utterly silent.

Which is somehow more concerning.

"Oi, Maybank, you good?" You half-shout, earning no response as you pick up your phone from the sofa - just in case you have to call John B or Pope in a panic.

You get no respond, slowly walking towards the room. "JJ? Hey - you okay?" You knock on the door.

"Leave me alone." JJ's voice breaks as you hear his voice through the door, and you feel your stomach sink.

You don't particularly like JJ, sure, he's like, the hottest man you've ever seen, and he is genuinely kind of funny sometimes. That doesn't matter; you don't like him.

But you can empathise with him. And he's Pope's friend.

And it doesn't take a genuis to put the dots together about what's happened.

"JJ." You sigh. "I'm coming in."

To your surprise, he doesn't respond, so you slowly push the door open.

The room is a mess, clothes are scattered everywhere, a lamp's broken, the bed sheets are a mess and the pillow is across the room, slumped against a wall. It looks like he's thrown anything he managed to get his hands on. JJ sits on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, he stares at the floor, one hand in his messy blond locks, the other resting on his knee, red cap in his hand.

He doesn't look up as you walk in, his hair hiding his face along with the dimly lit room. Silently, you move, walking to sit next to him. You leave enough distance between you to make neither of you uncomfortable.

"I told you to leave me alone." He mumbles, not even looking at you.

You hesitate for a second, sighing.

"...my step dad was an asshole. When things got bad, I'd lose my shit and scream at anyone who got too close, screaming about how I wanted to be on my own. ...But, all I ever really wanted was for someone to push past all that and act like they cared about me."

JJ doesn't move, or even look up, so you keep talking.

"You can hate me, and tease me, and throw shit, and say you hate everyone and this whole shitty island and whatever you want to say to get it out your system - I get it. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you, Maybank - so suck it up."

JJ is still silent, but his hand falls from his hair, loosely resting on his knee as he finally looks at you. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, and try not to visibly react.

JJ already has a black eye forming, a cut on his cheek and blood smeared under her nose. There's also blood staining the back of his hand, probably from wiping his nose.

"... you gonna put our petty differences aside for five minutes and let me fix that?" You ask; reacting dramatically or with pity is just going to piss him off even more.

JJ hesitates, but eventually nods, sighing. "Alright... but I don't wanna talk about it."

"I wasn't gonna ask." You stand up, offering him a hand, that he doesn't take, before he brushes past you and out the room.

That's about right.

He sits on the sofa as you get the appropriate means from the first aid box. You walk back to him, looking at him for a second before you step forward and touch his face for him to look up. He immediately flinches, pulling himself away, making you huff.

"Dude, I've gotta touch you if I'm gonna help you." JJ mumbles something you don't quite catch, but he lets you lift his face. You lightly dab under his nose, wiping the blood away before moving to the cut on his cheek.

He hisses as you press an alcohol wipe to his cheek.

"Sorry," you mumble.

"Could've warned me."

"Figured you wouldn't be such a pussy."

JJ simply rolls his eyes at this as you continue to nurse to him. Then you grab some glue strips, pressing down on one side of the cut and pulling the skin up to reach the other, tightly holding the cut together so it leaves less of a scar.

"Why are you helping me?" The question catches you off-guard, making you look him in the eye.

And you suddenly become very aware of how close you are. JJ isn't the goofy kid who always had a tooth missing and dirt on his clothes that you grew up with anymore. He's objectively gorgeous - there's a reason there's a seemingly endless amount of girls in the Chateau when he's around.

His bright ocean blue eyes lock with yours, and for a second, you understand. You understand all of those girls you judged and made fun of for falling for the blond's charm.

I mean look at him. How could they not?

And now is the worst moment to realise that.

You stand between his legs, bodies close, you're only wearing a thin lounge shirt and JJ's hands rest on his open legs, almost like he's fighting the instinct to put them on your waist.

You clear your throat, ripping your eyes away from his hypnotic gaze. He notices the shift, raising his eyebrow as you finally answer his question.

"I think I've already explained that."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess, but, like, you don't have to do this. Ain't you meant to hate me?"

"I only hate you because you hated me first."

"I didn't."

"Did too."

"Whatever." He pauses, eyes following your every move as you brush hair out of your face, grabbing his jaw.

"Stop moving."

"It hurts."

"Cope."

You place another gluestrip on his cheek. He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it again, making you curious. "What?"

"What, what?"

"You were gonna say something." You hook a finger under his chin, angling his face so you can see what you're doing better.

"No, I wasn't."

"Alright, fine - you weren't then."

The silence around you becomes more tense, and then JJ sighs. "I don't- I don't actually hate you."

You pause, looking at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"I mean, you're annoying as shit," he continues, "but... you're the only person that seems to be able to put up with my shit. So... yeah, yanno."

"So... you don't hate me?" You pull your hands away from his face, and he shakes his head, shrugging before running his fingers through his hair.

"No... you help around here - I mean, the Chateau would be trashed if you weren't around, and you help Pope out. And, I mean, he cares about you, for some reason, so you can't be all bad."

You scoff at this. "Yeah, yeah - you'll need some ice for that eye." He rolls his eyes in response as you return to the kitchen, bringing back a bag of frozen peas, which he presses to his eye as you finally sit down.

"It's cold."

"Is it really?"

"Ha ha." He fake laughs. "What were you even doing, anyway?"

"I watching TV and enjoying a peaceful evening."

"Sorry to ruin your evening." He says sarcastically.

"It ain't your fault." You respond, not quite sure where to go from here but you can't quite meet his eye either. It falls quiet again.

"...thank you."

He says it in such a whisper you think you're actually losing your mind at first. "What?"

"I, uh," he rubs his face. "I said thank you. You... you didn't have to do this. The others... When I- when..." He sighs. "Normally, they just leave me to it. They don't get it, they don't understand."

"They don't, not in the way you want them to, but they understand that you're going through something horrible. And they don't wanna make things worse. And you tell them to leave you alone and avoid talking about it - people can't help you if you don't let them, JJ." You say, your voice becoming softer as you finally look at him.

"You managed." He responds, watching you carefully. You don't really want to have this conversation either.

"Yeah, well, I'm stubborn." You joke, earning a snort and him dropping and shaking his head, his hands falling to his lap with the bag of peas.

"Yeah, you can say that again." He pauses. "Mind if I join you with your little marathon? I've got nothing better to do."

"What?" You scoff. "You want to willingly spend time together?"

"Yeah - fuck it, why not? It's been a shitty day, I'm not sure even your annoying-ass could make it worse."

"Ah, well, I'm sure I can find a way." JJ grins at your sarcastic comment, picking up the remote and flicking the TV back on. "Friends? Seriously?"

"What? It's good."

"Ehh, is it, though?"

"Just 'cause you have no taste."

"Rude. Well, what would you rather watch?"

"Uh, Two Guys and A Girl?" You blankly look at him. "You don't know what that is, do you?"

"No-"

"'Course you don't."

"Just 'cause you're a film freak." You sneer.

"Just 'cause you're uncultured." He retorts, then sighs. "It's another nineties sit-com. Only has two seasons."

"That probably means it's bad."

"Shut up. Ryan Reynolds is in it."

"That doesn't mean it's good."

"Uhh, yeah, it does."

You continue your dumb bickering, even though you do ultimately continue watching friends - JJ even laughs at some of the bad jokes. It's... weirdly nice.

You're not sure if it's just because you've become painfully aware that you're attracted to him, or if you guys are just trauma bonding, but it's almost fun.

"Ross is such a dick. Rachel deserves better." You chuckle at his comment, rolling your eyes. Then, after a moment, you speak.

"Oh, Maybank?"

"Yeah?" He responds between mouthfuls of potatoe chips.

"You don't need to thank me."

He pauses, glancing at you. "Yeah, I know - but I still will."

You nod, a small smile on your lips. "Well, you're welcome then."

○□○□○□○□○

"Guys! Guys!" John B rushes out the Chateau the next day as Kie and Pope carry booze and cups for plans of a kegger that evening. "You gotta see this."

"Huh? See what?" Kie blinks at the boy as she climbs out of her car, adjusting the bag she's holding full of paper cups. She'd lectured Pope for trying to buy plastic ones, which had condemned her to having to carry them.

"What are you talking about?" Pope raises an eyebrow.

"Shhh! Keep your voices down!" John B whisper-yells, making them exchange puzzled looks. "Come on. Come on!" He summons them to follow him, in which they shrug at each other as they follow him inside.

"Dude, what's going on?" Pope hisses, his tone low as John B leads them into the living room area.

John B puts a finger to his lips, then points at the couch. Kie and Pope exchange another glance before walking around the sofa.

"Holy-" Kie starts before John B dramatically shushes her again.

On the couch, you and JJ remain. You're not sure when you fell asleep, but you did.

You're both still sat up, your head resting on JJ's shoulder, his arm loosely around yours as his head rests on top of yours. You're almost snuggled into the crook of his neck, your knees pulled up and slighting resting on the edge of his lap.

"Should we wake them up?" Pope asks. "Psst! Guys-"

Kie slaps his arm. "Don't you dare. They're gonna get along even less when they wake up - let's just enjoy the peace whilst it lasts."

John B smirks and nods. "Yeah, come on, let's head to the Boneyard and start setting things up. They'll catch up later."

The trio walk out as quietly as they can, leaving you two to your slumber.

Kie's right; when you both wake up, you're going to be embarrassed and probably angry at the other. But right now, you're blissfully unaware.

The bag of frozen peas defrosts on the table, and even though JJ is clearly hurt, he's been taken care of, and seems content.

Yeah, so, I'm providing content no one asked for. This is my blog, let me live.

Lmao, in all seriousness, I figured writing the start of a potential crush could be cute for a change and it's nice writing for another one of my favourite boys, who isn't Minho.

I know this isn't my demography, but I'm tryna make my masterlist look less empty.

Anyway, I hope at least one of you enjoyed this :))

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