#and then she's gotta couch surf for a while

[pin3-vin3]

Living in a shared pack space sounds wonderful and all until you realize a particularly bad dispute can put you out on the street

[ickypuppi3]

billy’s mom waking him up while it’s still dark, whispering even though neil’s working the night shift. it’s a couple days before his tenth birthday and she’s telling him they’re going to have their very own adventure, just like the ones in billy’s books. she grabs an already packed suitcase from under billy’s bed and kisses him on the nose, tells him to get dressed quick. the two of them leave in an old beat up yellow bug that she managed to get for a third of the asking price and keep parked around the corner until now. they stay with friends and jump from place to place so neil can’t track them down. billy gets used to surfing couches and staying in motels.

he spends his tenth birthday in a diner, his mom gets him a big stack of pancakes and a milkshake with extra cherries. gets a candle out her pocket along with her silver lighter. sings happy birthday and pulls a face when the waitress frowns at them, just to make billy laugh. she sips at her coffee while billy tucks in. smiles when he holds some out with a “c’mon mama, share with me.”

billy thinks it’s neat. thinks it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.

they eventually end up with a place in california, a little bungalow near the coast and billy grows up with his mom. billy gets pretty shirts from the thrift store ‘cause his mama lets him do stuff like that. doesn’t call him a queer, doesn’t force a baseball bat into his hands whilst yelling at him for crying, for being a pussy. his mom lets him read and keep a journal and press flowers between the pages of the neverending story, she plays hendrix and dusty springfield and laughs when billy comes home from his friends’ house with his first piercing at thirteen. she doesn’t tear down his posters or yell when she finds him using her eyeliner.

and everything’s perfect. sort of.

they have bad days- billy’s mom has bad days. billy calls them gray days ‘cause that’s how the world looks when she’s like this. all her color gone. no singing-dancing in the kitchen or baking five different kinds of cake because she couldn’t decide which one was best, no last minute trips to the beach or sitting outside at night and telling billy about the stars. instead she’ll stay in bed, won’t go to work. she’ll stare at the wall blankly and look right through billy when he tries to talk to her. she won’t take the pills the doc gave her and billy doesn’t know what to do. never knows what to do. just chews at his lip until it bleeds, bites at his thumb until it’s red raw. he’ll get in the bed with her. lay beside her and just talk like she used to do with him when he had a nightmare. hum a song to her.

billy’s still pissed at the world just slightly less so. still has that anger and anxiousness simmering just below the surface and shows his teeth when cornered. he’s still hardened in a way that a kid shouldn’t be but. it’s different. there’s no neil. the only bloody noses he gets are at school, when he fights with the kids who call him a fag and a fairy, call his mom a basket case. he uses fists when they laugh and ask if she’s all there with a finger pointing at their heads, ask if billy will “catch the crazy.”

those are billy’s bad days. sitting in the principals office, icing his knuckles.

when he’s fifteen, billy manages to bag a job at the local auto repair by turning up every day and telling howie how good he’d be, that he knows cars and it’s all he wants to do and please please please. eyebrows pulled together, eyes puppy dog wide and hands clasped in front of him until howie grumbles, throws an oily rag at billy. says fine but billy’s gotta pay for anything he damages. someone brings in a chevy camaro and billy asks howie to let him help fix it up. does the begging again until howie laughs. says get a hold of yourself, kid, voice fond as he ruffles billy’s hair.

billy’s four months away from turning seventeen when the doorbell goes. he’s eating a sandwich and watching knight rider. he’s wearing the necklace his mom got him for his last birthday and- he answers the door. doesn’t think twice. freezes when he sees neil standing there. he looks different. hair a little shorter and more wrinkles. where billy’s gained weight, gained muscle, neil’s lost it. his eyes are a little sunken and he’s still got his wedding band on. he reeks of booze. billy has to remind himself to speak, just says “yeah?” his voice comes out small and neil smiles at him. smiles and billy feels this weird twist in his stomach ‘cause .. that’s his dad and he hasn’t seen him in years and it twists and twists and-

turns out. not much has changed. billy realises a little too late that neil will always be neil. they run again. have to leave everything behind. billy doesn’t get to say bye to his friends, to howie, to the car. they leave a lot of stuff behind and head in any direction away from neil. they both try to keep the mood light, take turns driving and play the tapes billy grabbed. they end up in indiana- hawkins. they stay at a motel until billy’s mom finds a place for dirt cheap. it has two bedrooms and a dingy bathroom, a living room slash kitchen and one hell of a damp problem. it’s dirt cheap for a reason.

it’s above a shop in town and- it’s fine. their landlord is an asshole but they’re together and they’ve got a roof over their heads. billy’s enrolled at hawkins high and his mom gets a job at the laundromat. he tells her that he doesn’t need to go to school, that he could just work and help pay the bills but his mom won’t have any of it. says that she wishes she had finished school and that billy’s too clever to waste it. that he has potential.

billy knows the reason she dropped out of school was because she had him. he just nods, rests his head on her shoulder.

it’s billy’s first day at school and his mom drives him to make sure he actually goes. he gets out the car and tries to shake the nerves off. straightens up and puts on his act. plasters a fake smile on his face and it’s working, he’s got most of the girls swooning and the boys at least seem curious. billy looks around and his eyes land on a guy leaning up against a bmw. his hair’s coiffed to high heaven and he’s wearing a polo, preppy as fuck but- pretty. it’s one of the first things billy realises about him, all doe eyes and moles dotted just about everywhere. he’s got a smirk on his face. not aimed at billy but the guy beside him.

pretty-boy walks over to him and billy raises an eyebrow, plays it cool. he introduces himself as steve and billy gets the idea that he’s top dog at hawkins high, is immediately proved right when they step into the building. king steve, freckles calls him. billy laughs- catches steve looking at him when he does and feels his face get hot. steve just smiles wider, calls billy california and tells him to sit with them at lunch. billy tries to ignore the way steve’s smile makes him feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under his feet.

he nods and steve grins. tugs at one of billy’s curls.

says “i think you’re gonna like it here, california.”

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the wip game (the highlighted ones)

-❤️🪐

Hello!! For you since you’ve been interested in it for awhile and i promised you a scene ages ago and only just now finished it: big heart, I wanna let it bleed, aka buck joins the team younger fic! Here’s a complete drabble about them running into Phillip on a call…

They’re not in an enclosed space but, somehow, the kid’s laughter is still echoing around them. Bobby tries to bite down on his smile as he calls a vaguely warning “Buck,” though he’s not too worried about professionalism seeing as the surfer — who’s trunks are truly mystifyingly tangled on his board — is cracking up even harder. He’s sort of… hung up there, board stuck nose down in the sand, man dangling up on the back end of it. They seem too far up the beach for a wave to have done this, but what does Bobby know, he’s from a landlocked state.

“Sorry, Cap,” Buck wheezes. “Do we, uh… need the ladder?”

Bobby takes a measured inhale as he hears some kind of frantically smothered squeak sound coming from — is that Chimney? One of the paramedics, anyway — and shakes his head. “I think we can just lower the board down, if you’ll give me a hand. That sound alright to you, sir?”

The surfer gets through a few more wheezing chuckles before he can say “Yeah dude, lower away.”

They manage it pretty smoothly, with him and Buck on either side and Hen and Chim ready to catch the weight of the surfer. Hen starts off the next small round of laughter as she tries to de-tangle the swim trunks to move their vic, but everybody manages to calm down as they get to the actual medical examination.

As Hen and Chimney poke and prod, Buck chatters. “I learned to surf a few years ago, over in the Carolinas.”

“No shit?” The surfer grins. “Like Charleston? I gotta cousin over there.”

“Yeah, Folly Beach sometimes, but mostly went up to the Banks.”

“Sick.” The surfer gestures to where Hen’s wrapping some gauze around his bloodied elbow. “What’s your worst wipeout?”

Buck laughs again, a little delighted sound, always happy to be included. “Oh man- My first time out on the water, like the second wave I ever caught, just tossed me right off completely.” He tugs up his shirt before Bobby dawn shake his head not to, and twists around to show a jagged old scar on his lower back. “Landed on some rocks, needed fourteen stitches.”

The surfer whistles as Hen shakes her head. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches for this one, but there’s enough debris in there I’m gonna recommend we take you to the hospital so they can get it all out.”

“Sure thing,” the guy says, looking more relaxed than Buck taking a nap on the couch after second helpings of mac and cheese. “Thanks man.”

“No problem,” Bobby says, definitely no trace of a chuckle in his voice no matter the delighted glances his team sends him.

The surfer tries to twist towards Buck once they get him on the gurney, winces, and then just turns his head. “You ever surf out here?”

“Have a few times, but I don't have a board or anything.”

“Man, you should come out and join us! We got a group most weekday mornings, I'm sure somebody could get you set up.”

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well. Still, Bobby feels a little off kilter as they load the ambulance.

“Rad, man, see you around.” The surfer is grinning at Buck, two happy little suns shining at each other. “Ask for Stevey,” he says, loosely pointing at himself. Steven Barney, he'd given as his name to dispatch.

Buck smiles, waves goodbye. “I'm-”

“Evan?”

Buck turns like a man in a haunted house, startled at an impossible sound with all the color draining out of him. The apparition takes the appearance of a white man a little older than Bobby, wearing neat, pale clothes and a sort of constipated, caught expression. They see that look on calls sometimes, with men who are going through an emergency with women who are not their wives and who are still trying to pretend they've done nothing at all untoward.

“D-” Buck blinks, a few times, hard. “Dad?”

Bobby can't help joining in Hen and Chin's shared oh shit look. There's not an overly familiar resemblance between the two — perhaps a shared stake in forehead real estate — but the man doesn't refute it. “I'll let you get back to work,” he says, glancing towards the sea, the ambulance, eyes landing briefly on Bobby before jumping away again, startled.

“Wait, wh-” Buck steps forward, hand wandering out in front of him before dropping back to his side. “What are you doing in LA? Did you have- a-a work trip?”

Buck's father clears his throat. “It's Brian’s birthday.”

“Oh,” Buck says, blinking again, rapidly this time, a fish thrown in new water. “He- he lives in California now?”

“No, no,” the man says dismissively, like he doesn't know why anyone on earth would choose to live in California. “He’s retiring early, wanted to make a weekend of it.”

“So-” Buck scrambles, visibly, and it makes Bobby aware of the small audience of first responders (and surfer), so he closes the ambulance door despite Hen and Chim’s wide eyes and shaking heads, and thumps the back so they pull away. Buck doesn’t seem to notice either way. “You’re- you’re here for a few days? We should- we could go get lunch? I-I have to work until tomorrow morning but-”

“It’s a busy weekend,” the man grumbles, doing a motion with his hands almost like he's patting himself down to make sure he has his wallet, the movements of someone making sure they're good to leave. “I won't have the time.”

Buck stands there, looking more wounded than any of the times he's been banged up on calls. “I- haven't seen you in- in like four years-”

“And who's fault is that?” His father laughs dismissively. “If you want to run off and throw your life away you can't complain about it later.”

“I-I didn't, I like what I- I have a job, I- I found…” Buck frowns, and Bobby worries for a moment he's going to cry out here in front of his father and colleagues and the beach goers of Santa Monica. He holds it together, though. “I like it here, and I like my job, and I'd like to tell you about it-”

“I won't have the time, Evan.” He doesn't even consider for a moment backing out of his obvious lie. “You can call next week if you want. Your mother will be glad to know you're in one piece.”

“Okay,” Buck says, shoulders sinking down and turning in. He goes from a 6’3” wall of muscle to a lost child right before Bobby’s eyes, hell of a magic trick. “Sorry,” Buck says, as Bobby does some math, works backwards a little. Fourteen stitches, definitely more recent than four years ago. He thinks about the laws of physics, or at least traffic, he’d break if he knew Robert was bleeding in an ocean somewhere in the world. “Sorry,” Buck says again — why, why should he be apologizing — and nods a few times. “I’ll- I’ll make sure to call.”

His father nods back. “We still work, so-”

“Yeah, after five, I know.”

“And your mother has book club on Tuesdays.”

“Okay.” Smaller, and smaller. Bobby remembers reading Alice in Wonderland to Brook, wonders how big Buck’s pool of tears is to shrink him so much. “I’ll just-” Buck clenches his fists, just for a moment, and then hides them in his pockets. “I’ll just try. If you’re busy you don’t have to pick up.”

Oh, God, give an inch and they’ll take a mile. Buck’s father looks visibly relieved at the offer of plausible deniability. “Alright.” He doesn’t move to hug his son, doesn’t even reach out for a handshake, staying a careful several feet away. “I’m sure you need to get back to your job,” he says, raising eyebrows in Bobby’s direction. It makes him bristle, he doesn’t want to be a forced coconspirator in judging Buck for something he hasn’t even done wrong. Buck wilts even further beside him. His father gives one final nod. “Goodbye, Evan.”

He’s already walking away by the time Buck says “Bye, Dad.”

And then they’re all just standing there. Hen and Chimney went off to the hospital, sure, but there’s still a handful of firefighters lingering around, either trying to make a lot of eye contact or no eye contact at all. Buck stares firmly at the ground. Bobby clears his throat.

“Alright, let's pack it up.” If they were operating under any other circumstance Bobby might compliment his crew for how quickly and quietly they get loaded into the trucks.

The ride back to the station is quiet, too, usual engine chit chat locked in everyone’s throats. Bobby’s pretty sure he sees Nichols subtly and somewhat frantically typing on his phone. Mostly, though, he watches Buck in the rearview. The kid is staring resolutely out the window, but Bobby would bet he’s not seeing a thing. His leg bounces on the seat, and Rodriguez doesn't even do the polite cut-it-out cough. Bobby wonders how many of Buck's stories he's overheard, if he's also now watching them tilt, shift, rearrange in his head. Dumb little boy stuff, skateboard-bike-motorcycle stunts, climbing up trees to fall out of them, all told with class clown energy, wasn't I stupid but wasn't it fun, wasn't it funny? Bobby got up to some shit when he was a kid, trailing after Charlie and taking any ill-advised dare the older kids tossed out to him, but he got hurt and he went home, his mom kissed his scrapes, even his dad would ruffle his hair and grab the first aid kit on his good days. Bobby looks at Buck looking out at nothing and tries to count the broken bones scattered between the big grins and his audience’s corresponding groans, tries to imagine Buck — all his silliness, all his sunshine — going home hurt to parents whose care comes with office hours.

When they pull into the station everyone flees the engine like there’d been a chemical spill, leaving Buck standing alone silhouetted against shiny scarlet paint. Bobby hesitates, one foot still up on the truck bed. He doesn’t want to overstep, but- he can’t stop thinking about how far away Buck’s father stood. The kid deserves someone to come closer. He only wished there was someone better than himself around to do it.

“Hey, kid-”

“I never knew what I did wrong.” Buck is frowning into middle distance, shoulders still tucked in around him. “I- I know I was stupid in- in high school, and college, but-” he looks right at Bobby, eyes wide, and he looks- oh, kid, come home. You’re hurting, come home, you’ll be taken care of, I got a first aid kid at least and I’ll learn to do better than that. “It was always like this- I-” Buck shrugs and here, finally, come the tears. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says, and it's only two steps over to him, and he’s never even casually side hugged this kid before but Buck sinks right into his arms.

“You can’t know that-”

“I can.” Buck’s so tall. Bobby’s not sure the last time he hugged somebody taller than him. He wonders how tall his dad was, looming so large in memory but an unknown in actual imperial measurement. He wonders how tall Robert would’ve gotten. “You were a kid. You were their kid. There’s nothing you could have done that was so bad they shouldn’t have loved you anyway.”

Buck shudders against him, and his shoulder is getting wet, and the ambulance will be back soon and there’s firefighters milling about and, always, work to do.

But they can take a little time here. Bobby’ll bend it around, if he has to. The laws of traffic, the laws of physics. It startles him, scares him a little, but- he’d break them for Buck, too.

[2hoothoots]

So I was going through your blog (again) and found some of your stuff mentions fsau Raz having ADHD, as somebody with adhd I’m intrigued, may I have some of those headcanons (canons??) related to that? Also, I would give “a penny for your thoughts” but I’m out of pennies, so here’s various images of a drawing of ur blorbo I put next to my animals, note that a rock had to be added in one picture to keep him from flying away (BONUS: his now permanent place with the wifi guardian frog)

NOTHING brings me more joy than seeing physical drawings of these guys, like, out and about. in situations. thank you for this gift, and ALSO for the great ask because it's a perfect chance to ramble

so first of all, canon Raz having ADHD is very real to me. he's constantly fidgeting and moving around, getting distracted by sidequests and scavenger hunt objectives, always talking to himself out loud, gotta write everything down so he remembers it because there's so much to DO!, running away from home because his dad yelled at him one time and now Raz assumes he must hate him forever... i could go on, but i think there's a lot of room for interpretation there!

in my headcanon, he never got diagnosed as a kid. maybe there were some notes about it in his reports each year, sure - but a little hyperactivity and distractability never seemed to slow him down. he excelled in lessons and on missions, and when he was with his family their performances gave him something to focus that energy into. it was only really when he turned 18 and graduated to a full agent that the cracks started to show.

because there's a big difference between the responsibilities you have as a minor, and the responsibilities you have as an 18-year-old living away from home! one who's expected to cook and clean for themselves, and take care of adult life stuff, and also work the 9-to-5 office job he's just graduated into that involves sitting in front of a computer and write reports all day.

short-term, he found he could get himself to power through a deadline with energy drinks and psi-pops (a lot of psi-pops...)

long-term, something had to give. he was working himself to exhaustion, constantly stressed, swinging between days spent staring at his computer screen doing nothing and all-nighters desperately trying to finish his paperwork before the deadline. it just didn't make any sense to him. he'd finally started his job as a Psychonaut, he was living independently like he'd always dreamed, he'd gotten top surgery after planning it for so long. he should have everything he ever wanted. why wasn't he happy?

following a deep post-surgical depression, about a month before his 19th birthday Raz was living out of his car, couch-surfing or sleeping in his office. he got kicked out of his apartment after falling behind on bills and rent. it wasn't that he didn't have the money, it was all just too much for him to stay on top of.

he'd probably have stayed in that misery hole for a lot longer if Frazie hadn't marched into his life and demanded he let her help him move into a new place, or she was telling mom that he was homeless. together, they sorted through all of his possessions from the last place - everything that had been hastily shoved in his car, or tossed in a box in his office, piled in a heap that was giving him anxiety even looking at it.

things do get better for him from there.

when he eventually explains things to Hollis, she gently suggests that he should get a roommate. he ends up moving in with Phoebe, and they become pretty good friends after a couple months! something about having another person around to help do the chores and wash the dishes and share the space helps, even if it takes him a while to admit it.

he gets his ADHD diagnosis, and finding the exact right medication and dose is a journey he's still on years later - but they're a huge help in getting him to actually knuckle down and finish his work on time. and the whole thing ends up being a chance for him to take a step back and really think about what he wants to do with his life. he'd always assumed that being a Psychonaut was his dream, but he'd never really reckoned with what that dream would look like before.

in the end, he sticks with it, but also decides to follow Lili's example in branching out. he applies to study a part-time Bachelor's in Psychology on a remote course, and gets accepted. juggling missions and paperwork and study and relationships (because the whole thing made him realise he also wasn't setting aside any time for himself, and wow, dating is a thing) is a lot - but he manages to figure it out, day by day.

(Lili comes back to the Psychonauts after graduating. she and Raz have both changed a lot over those four years, but on their first mission together they hit it off like a house on fire - and the rest is history!)

[cator99]

New Girl Saga Update:

The Stench And Rot Chapter

Due to my lengthy bathroom redecorating, the unemployed ftm had resorted to using the basement washroom last night. He reported back to me, overcome with despair. Even he— who has been a strong advocate for the new girl, despite all things— was left appaled and slightly offended. He had to clear a path and clean the seat just to use it. The landlord was supposed to come yesterday morning to fix the leak in there— and thank god she rescheduled. Imagine living somewhere illegally, tasked only with covering up your tracks so this is not obvious, while risking total household eviction if your presence is discovered (as I've independently established, this isn't the case but I cant have them knowing that I've had any dl contact with the landlord and I'd rather everyone believe their interpretation of events anyway so we have more reason to push her out— she's more than well-off enough to afford normal Toronto rental prices, which is admittedly part of why people have been more patient with her, since she's helped the ftm with rent when he couldn't pay it in the past— her room could go to someone who truly needs it, just like I did when I found this place after months of couch surfing and sublets!), and then to turn it into such a disgusting fucking mess, knowing it's only going to reflect poorly on the person who lives down there, who ftr has been at her boyfriend's place all week and had neither the time nor the energy to intervene when she came home at 5am and realized there was rotten produce in a fabric bag seeping its fucking rot juice on the kitchen tiles and stinking the place up... good god... dishes in the sink stacked like jenga that had been piling up since last time she was there... a bathroom with odd and mysterious stains all over the floor and toilet... clothes and garbage everywhere... clumps of hair seemingly sprinkled atop everything as a garnish.... stink and stench abound. My coworker-housemate is the only other one in the basement. She may be a clutter-accumulating type of person (for those without hobbies– collecting is a half-decent substitute. Whatever gets you out of the house, I suppose), but everything she owns, at the very least, has a designated place. Regardless. Despite being a rather loud and blunt person, she's been conditioned by Pins Girl (long gone... it all just feels like an old bad dream......) to not say a damn thing about the new girl's unsanitary habits. But the landlord had rescheduled for 1:30pm today. Something's gotta give. Exasperated messages were sent by her, as well as by ftm, around 6am. No response. Afternoon comes. No response. Chat registers that new girl had long since seen the messages.

I had my bedroom door open as got ready to go I for a grocery run around 1pm. From here, I can see down the hall and into the kitchen, which leads to the front door– slightly out of view from my pov, but I can always hear the door open and close, even if my own door is shut. This is when I observed new girl tiptoe up from the basement, noticeably careful to be as quiet as possible as she crept through the kitchen, slipping out the front door. She's not a quiet nor subtle person, so I immediately found it odd, and listened in as she made close to no sound shutting and locking the door. With her back to me, she likely didn't realize that anyone had noticed her do this. The landlord's arrival with the handyman was imminent. She gave her ETA. The group chat lit up in a panic. The other basement dweller woke up to check out the state of the basement. Not a damn thing had changed. As the minutes slipped away, panic set in. I went out to grab groceries. Basement tenant rushed to clean up as best as she could in her half-awake state. However, not wanting to actually have to deal with someone else's disgusting rotten produce, she simply threw it into a plastic bag and hid it in the storage room. Sprayed some febreeze. The stench was impenetrable. It then just smelled of febreeze plus rot and stench and aura of disgust. She did her best with what little time she had to clean, but she truly didn't know what to do with all of the clothes and new girl belongings that had been thoroughly scattered like an old barn in a tornado. She tossed it all into a bag, and again into the storage room. 1:45 rolls around. The landlord has come and gone, as the handyman had only decided to do a quick assessment in order to return later. Group chat is pinging in my pocket as I'm in the checkout line. Landlord had asked Basement Tenant if the ceiling in the storage room was still leaking as well. It has a slight leak. They had to go in there. Door opens– and the smell of rotting produce hits them like teargas.

I've since sent a message to the landlord explaining the situation, and that new girl has said she is looking for a new place, expressing that everyone is hoping this will happen as soon as possible, since her presence has become such a detriment to the entire household. Fucking hell... the absolute disrespect..........

[painted-bees]

Weeeeeeee binge reading the Cortes blorbos to see if I missed anything (which I did lol, greatly enjoyed reading the new-to-me posts!) and I'm curious how Raf and Margie went from hey-come-crash-at-my-place to cool-I-live-here-now. also what was going through Margie's mind the first time she stayed at Raf's place? If he'd openly told her she could stay as long as she liked, how come she left before he came home from work? also did she talk about it at all at their next jam session?

(sorry for Wall of Text I didn't realize I had more questions until I started typing them out haha)

Yay!! I am so happy!! Thank you for going through all that Q vQ <3!!

In honesty once Raf realizes she's unhoused, and consequently invites her to crash at his place for the first time, he becomes kinda very "pspspsps🤌" to Magritte ever since, in effort to entice her to just--stay. Largely because he reads her as being very trusting, naive, and vulnerable, and really doesn't trust the world with someone like her. Magritte herself isn't as naive as she is in his imagination, and objectively, he does know that, but his brain naturally comes up with the worst-case scenarios for everything. Still, his paranoid nature also doesn't allow him to be wholly straightforward with her. He's unable to just tell her point blank "hey, make my place your own alright? I just want you to be safe." He can't, because if things ever go sideways and he suddenly wants her out, he wouldn't really be able to create that distance anymore without looking like kind of an asshole for doing so. So, he avoids making that commitment while trying to entice her to take it from him anyways.

It doesn't work lmao

Until this point, Raf has always been the 'skittish' one of the two of them, but when it comes to staying in once place for long, Magritte's own brand of protective skittishness emerges. And it's completely different from Raf's.

Magritte has become aware of the cycle that's repeated ever since she's started couch surfing and relying on the charity of friends + acquaintances. She's a fun, sweet, bubbly, cute person with a bit of a quirky vibe, and so things always start off fun and well enough. But inevitably, her presence becomes a strain. And her lack of contributions to the place she is staying at becomes a point of resentment. And justly so, she thinks. Try as she might, she's not a very clean or hygienic roommate--quite the opposite, to a degree that she knows should be more embarrassing to her than it for some reason is. Sporadic showering scheduel, forgotten plates of rotting food, unwashed clothing on the floor of her room for weeks...She leaves lights on, turns thermostats up too high, forgets to clean up after herself, when she does shower, she stays too long and uses up all the hot water. When asked to do favors, if she cannot preform them as soon as they are requested, there's a high likelihood she'll just forget to do them. None of these things on their own are a terrible deal-breaker...but when it's all of these things, often...and then the rent is due and the electricity and water bill is high, and Magritte's response is "Sorry, sorry! I can buy you lunch if that helps, I'm sorry!"--you know...it gets kind of...upsetting. And friends eventually come to resent her before they gather the courage to tell her that she's gotta find somewhere else to live for a while.

If she doesn't leave before things accumulate to that point, then she loses friends.

Raf has already proven that he's very protective/defensive about his space and his privacy. By the time Raf invites her to stay the night at his place, she's still trying to figure out his boundaries--and from her perspective, they seem to shift around a lot in unpredictable ways.

She likes the relationship she has with Raf. Their Thursday night jam sessions are the one thing she looks forward to the most every single week. She doesn't want to do anything to compromise that.

That first night Margie crashes in his guest bedroom, it's just really good timing and she's really happy to have a comfy, warm bed to sleep in. They get home some time around 1am, and both just...go to sleep almost as soon as they arrive at his apartment lmao. But she's awake as soon as she hears him up and about because she's worried that sleeping in will make her seem like a lazy, bad guest. Also, free coffee....... And they have a really nice, casual chat over breakfast about just...stuff haha.

Raf invites her to stay as long as she wants, but she leaves before he gets home because she doesn't...know when he'll be back, and what if she lost track of time and he comes home to a mess? What if she breaks something? What if she impulsively eats all the stuff in his fridge? What if the neighbors complain to him about the music?? She leaves his place shortly after he leaves for work, once the temperature warms up a bit outside. Because she not confident in her ability to take up only a 'polite' amount of space in his home. So she'd rather just--not.

And--she doesn't want to spend too many consecutive nights, because...then why wouldn't she just stay the whole day, too? How does she explain that she doesn't want him to dislike her for having the habits and manners of a gross little goblin creature? lmao

Raf's automatic assumption is that Margie doesn't like staying at his place cuz she just doesn't like his place. Maybe it's boring, maybe the smell of weed keeps her away lmao. But then he begins to realize how she literally won't do anything unless he's there to tell her she can. Like she's afraid to just make herself at home. And it's...fair. The few times she does attempt to own her space, his instinctive reaction is to point it out to her in one way or another, because the paranoia nips at his heels with "she's getting too comfortable". He's quick to correct himself or assure her it's fine, actually...but he gets annoyed at his own kneejerk responses.

Finally, after a few months of fruitlessly trying to encourage Magritte to treat his apartment as a place she can fall back on and stay in without worrying about imposing, Raf just...gives her a set of keys, "Here's your keys".

And Magritte slides them back over to him, "That's super sweet of you, but you'd get so sick of me, so fast haha."

Raf, a little stung by the outright rejection is just like, "Nah, I don't think so." and Magritte is like, "I know, but you gotta trust me."

She gives him the full lo-down on how this kinda thing has always gone in the past, her terrible domestic habits, her penchant for neglecting responsibilities and failing to deliver on favors. She can't even offer to contribute to rent in any reliable way, because her income and spending habits are so consistently inconsistent that she can't even promise herself that she'll eat two to three meals a day.

There are other people and facilities that she can lean on that would hurt her less if they decided they had enough of her.

She really, really, really doesn't want to screw things up with Raf. She likes hanging out with him. She doesn't want him to grow sick and resentful of her. In an effort to lighten the subject, she concludes it with "yanno, too much of a good thing, haha."

Raf has never wanted to scrunch someone up into a little ball and slam dunk them into a warm, cozy, protective little pillow fort so badly in his entire gd life lmao For someone who is so paranoid of being taken advantage of, he's really taken off guard by this kind of...idk, preserving refusal? On one hand, it's a really considerate gift, an expression of "I like you, not the favors and resources I can extract from you" he's never really had to navigate before. On the other hand, wrt the situation, it's extremely fucking frustrating lmao.

Raf admits that he worries about her probably more than he ought to, and he'd really appreciate it if she could just...oblige him on this. He promises to tell her if he ever feels like he'd prefer to have his space back, and that he'd do so well before it ever risks compromising their friendship. Because just as much as she likes hanging out and playing music with him, he enjoys it, too. It's not just her who's worried about ruining a good thing. "Just stay. One month, and and we can see how we're feeling about it after that. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out and we can still meet up to jam every week. But, if you stay here, we can play music any day we want."

She might have refused if he hadn't thrown in that last line.

[cottoncandy-cult]

You Get Hurt {Small} (ZFBFS)

(Y/n) sighed as she went about her day cleaning the house, Zack was out taking care of some quick stuff for work so the (H/c) head decided to go through some stuff and clean up. With holiday season coming up she wanted to go through some items and see what needed to be replaced and see if she had room for anything new. She had already brought down the easy stuff, ornaments, tensile, coasters, etc. Now she was in the process of carrying a few boxes of lights and inflatables, she made it down from the attic and now she had to go down another flight to get to the front room where everything else was. The creak of the front door caught her attention as she stopped at the top of the set of stairs. "What the hell are you doing?..." Zack's confused voice had her peaking around to see him stepping around the boxes and approaching the couch. "Going through decorations, I've had some of these for a while." She had begun walking down the steps, Zack had just gotten off his shoes when he caught quick movement from the corner of his eye.

About halfway down she had slipped, a sharp pain went through her ankle before she tumbled down. "Damnit (Y/n), be careful!" He was quick to rush over, tossing the boxes with ease to the couch before helping her to her feet. The girl leaned into his chest, nursing her left ankle. Her head was pounding as well from taking a few blows from the boxes and stairs, she couldn't really tell what all was hurting at the moment though. "Here..." He scooped her up princess style with a sigh, taking her back up the stairs and to her room. "Zack I still gotta go through that stuff down there." She whined and leaned her head on his shoulder, listening to him scoff at her. "I don't want to hear it, that shit can wait."

Soon enough she was lying on her bed, as the pain dulled, she was left with a headache and throbbing in her left ankle. Zack had gone to get her an extra pillow and an ice pack, she sighed as a sprained ankle would definitely have her stuck in bed for a bit. Though she looked forward to being able to guilt Zack into cuddling with her, and it gave her an excuse to eat out instead of cook since Zack was still learning to use the stove. "Here lift you damn leg..." He entered the room with a large pillow and an ice pack with a rag around it, she of course lifted her leg and allowed him to put the pillow down under her ankle before he situated the ice pack underneath the aching area. "Thanks Zack... Why don't you come join me after your shower? I'll text my dad to get us something to eat." The male sighed and grumbled out a sure as he headed to his room to grab his stuff for the shower, leaving (Y/n) to text her dad and tell him about her ankle and pass their food order to him so he could inform her overseer.

The boredom began to set in quick, she glanced around for the remote hoping to channel surf and find something to watch. Though to her dismay when her eyes locked in on it, the black piece of plastic was on top of the dresser by the door. On the other side of her room. She cursed every cloud in the sky, even Jeffree, for the crime of moving her remote so far. She gave a huff and decided to wait for Zack, but after an hour (5 minutes) the boredom was irritating. So, she decided to get up and hobble her way over, she celebrated her achievement of grabbing the remote with a little dance. But it was a bit too soon, as the middle drawer on her desk was slightly open and caught her shin. Which made her stumble forward and knock her hip on the edge of the nightstand, making her drop to the ground and curl up. The remote now lie forgotten by the bed as (Y/n) lie on her side against the hardwood, slightly curled up as one hand held her shin and the other her hip. Her ankle throbbed and she continued to string curse words together until she was interrupted by the door opening and Zack asking what the hell happened now.

She began to explain what happened which only made the man facepalm "You can be such an idiot you know that?" He scooped her up and laid her back on the bed once more resituating the icepack, then he gave her the remote. "So, when is shitty hair supposed to be here with the food." This statement made (Y/n) reach over and tug his hair, Zack and her newest overseer didn't see eye to eye neither cared for the other, but she figured it was just a guy thing. "You two need to calm down, and I don't know dad should have given him my order earlier so soon I guess?" She tilted her head slightly in thought, making Zack sigh before climbing into bed with her. He propped his leg onto the end of the bed in a way that allowed him to prop up the pillow her foot rested on, letting him shift her onto her side towards him and wrap his arms around her. "Meh, that lazy a*s tends to take a while. Why don't you get some rest, I'll wake you up when the food gets here." She could feel the rumble of Zack's voice in his chest as her forehead rested against it, soothing the (H/c) head immensely and making her smile before leaning up and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "Whatever you say love..." The smell of his cologne and his warm presence wrapped around her had easily began to lull her to sleep, but the feeling of his fingers running through her hair sealed the deal. She wanted to be a smart ass because he wasn't usually so affectionate, but she didn't want to piss him off and ruin the moment. Instead, she closed her (E/c) eyes and slipped into sleep, this was probably the best accident she has ever had.

[ifhymona]

٭* Not Too Late *٭

Chapter 8 | chino moreno x reader

chapter 7 ~ chapter 9 | AO3

2.1k words

i sat at a table off to the side of the big crowd of people. it had a pretty good view from where i was at. there weren’t many heads covering the stage. i wanted to be able to pay attention to their performance. plus i have no business being inside the pit.

everyone cheered as loud as they could when the band came out onto stage. i cheered with them. chino scanned the crowd then land his eyes on me, a big smile grew on his face. i think my heart just skipped a beat.

“hey, i’m chino and this is my band the deftones.” he presented the guys. “thanks for coming out to support us tonight! but before we start, i wanna give a special shoutout to our assistant y/n.” he pointed towards me. “we wouldn’t have been here tonight without her so big round of applause for her.” he clapped and everybody started clapping and cheering with him. i haven’t felt this special in a while. i grinned at chino mouthing the words thank you. he shook his head mouthing back thank you. he looked back at the crowd. “this is the deftones.”

chi started playing the beginning of one weak. everybody in the crowd made a loud roar hearing what song they were opening with. i even started to get excited once i heard what song it was. one weak is definitely one of my favorites. chino started singing and even though i’ve heard his voice before, i was in awe. his voice sounded angelic to me. like nothing i’ve heard before. nobody else’s voice goes from melodic to harsh the way chino’s does.

stephen and abe come into the song and they both sync up like they’re reading each others minds. looking at all of them together, you can just see the passion they have while performing. they all acknowledge the bond they have and take it to their advantage on stage and that’s really apparent. they all rock out on stage together and to be honest, i wish i were up there with them. they looked like they were at their happiest standing up on there.

~

“you guys were amazing!” i ran and gave a group hug to everybody once they walked back stage. “i knew you guys wouldn’t disappoint!”

“did you guys see me during my own summer? i felt so badass playing the first riff!” stephen boasted.

“it was badass dude! you guys were sick! i’ve never been to a show like yours! it was so thrilling!”

“imagine how it was for us upstage, y/n! i just fucking love being up on stage playing and watching everybody’s reactions. i get so exhilarated up there that i start to feel out of body.” chi chimed in.

“same bro! playing the drums during a show will always get my adrenaline running.” abe responded.

“don’t even get me started on stage diving and crowd surfing. probably one of the greatest things in life!” chino enthused.

we all sat on the couch backstage recapping on the whole show. i loved hearing them talk about being on stage and what it’s like for them. all of their experiences are so different but alike at the same time.

there were still a lot of people post show so they went out and took some photos with fans and gave autographs. it was 11 pm and we still had to take the instruments back to the garage and drop of the truck and everybody else home. i hope i’m not too tired tomorrow.

~

luckily the bar was allowing me to buy drinks since i was with the band so i went backstage to grab my purse for some money. as i was walking back there, i heard two very familiar voices speaking to each other.

“cmon man, you gotta be way more forward than that.” abe told chino.

“hey i was already pretty forward.” chino rose his hands up in defense. “besides, i don’t wanna do anything she doesn’t wanna do.”

“well what about the night at hot shots?” were they talking about me?

“what about the night at hot shots?” he shook his head.

“you know what i mean.” he paused. “did you pin the tail on the donkey?” a smirk grew on abe’s face.

“you’re a freak, man.” chino scoffed rolling his eyes. he laughed a little though. “i just dropped everybody off afterwards, that’s all.”

“don’t lie!” he gave chino a look, pointing at him.

chino pressed his lips together, then smirked. “i’ll admit, we did make out a bit. but to be fair we were pretty drunk and she wanted to.” he shrugged and took a swig of his beer.

what the hell was that supposed to mean chino? he knew damn well we were never drunk nor had we ever made out. he even said it like i pressured him into it.

i grabbed my bag before they noticed me and went back to the bar. i couldn’t listen to them anymore.

i sat down and called out to the bartender. “a gin tonic please!”

“y/n?” i looked up.

“ethan smith?”

“the one and only.” ethan smiled. me and ethan used to be friends back in high school but lost contact after graduation. chino never liked him for some reason. one time he even got mad at me hanging out with him at the skatepark one day. i shake off my thoughts about chino. i don’t want to think about him right now.

“how have you been? i haven’t seen you since graduation!”

“well not much. just working to be honest.” he sighed. “but this won’t be forever!”

we began chit chatting with each other about how our lives changed since high school. he served me my drink.

“so are you and camillo friends again?” he seemed curious.

“yeah, i’m actually his band’s assistant.” he sheepishly smiled while looking to the side. “what’s that look for?”

he sighed. “i just think that you shouldn’t be hanging around them.” i rose my eyebrow. “they’re rockstars who party all the time and go on benders. and you? you’re just a girl from sacramento.” no way he just told me this. right when i stopped feeling like a nobody too.

“well may i remind you that we haven’t seen each other in like two years. you don’t know me enough anymore to worry about who i’m hanging out with. you don’t know the band well enough to talk about them like that.” i snapped.

“y/n-“

“don’t y/n me.” i placed a five on the surface. “and about me being just a girl from sacramento. i can’t wait for the day to come where i’m something more than a just a girl from sacramento and can say told you so.” i scoffed and walked away.

he shouted to me. “well what if i told you camillo isn’t the guy he makes himself out to be?”

i paused in my tracks and turned my head.“that’s for chino to tell me.” what a weirdo. now i know why chino never liked him.

~

after hanging out at the whiskey junction for 2 hours, we had finally gotten everybody home, besides me. why are we always alone in a car past midnight?

he parked his car infront of my house and turned it off. there was this weird tension between us.

“was i good or bad tonight? be honest.” he turned to me.

“you were good, chino. i loved watching you up there.” i smiled at him but immediately dropped it to the thought of what chino said.

“what’s wrong?” he frowned.

“nothing.” i shrugged.

“y/n, i can just feel that something is wrong with you.”

“do you know it though?” i tried stalling.

“yeah i do.” he stared at me. “what’s wrong?”

i sighed defeatedly. “why did you say that me and you made out when we didn’t?” he went silent. “i mean cmon chino! you even made it seem like you didn’t even want to. do you know how shitty that felt to hear?”

he looked down at his hands and started fidgeting. “look y/n i don’t know why i said it. i just did.” he looked back up at me. “abe didn’t even believe me.”

i gave him a serious face. “really? that’s your excuse?”

“excuse? i’m being hone-“ i cut him off.

“whatever chino. i don’t want to talk about it.” i turned away from him and sat straight.

he laughed. “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to see you basically flirting with ethan smith in front of abe?” is he really trying to flip it back on me?

“what are you even talking about? ethan was the bartender! i didn’t embarrass you, you embarrassed me! and even if i was flirting with ethan, why does it matter to you?”

“because you’re min- my friend!” he exclaimed. it went silent. i felt his eyes on me. “im drunk and just told abe what he wanted to hear. i’m sorry, y/n, really.” he rubbed his forehead. “i’m serious about abe not believing me. i’d never lie to you y/n”.

i thought about it for a second. chino is the type to fudge the truth to look cooler. “i guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” i shrugged.

“so am i forgiven?” he pouted.

“yes chino, you’re forgiven.” i smiled.

we sat in silence for a few minutes staring at each other. then his eyes wandered down to the rest of my body. it started to feel warm suddenly.

“i like these a lot.” he tugged on my fishnets. “i think they’re hot.” he looked back up at me and rested his hand on my thigh.

i felt my face warm up. good thing it’s dark in here. “you really think so?” i decided to indulge him.

“mhm” he hummed. he leaned toward me again. this time i didn’t turn away. i licked my lips and bit them. thank god for the liquid courage.

“were you able to impress that one person tonight?” i asked.

he softly smiled. “you tell me.”

before i could say anything, he kissed my lips. he smelt like a mixture of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. normally that would’ve bothered me but this time, i feel like i’ve been so touched starved, i needed this.

his tongue played around mine as he sucked on my lips. i moaned into his mouth and his grip tightened on my thigh. he used his other hand to cup my face and pull me in closer. my heart was beating so fast right now.

i felt his hand slide down and caress the in between of my thighs. my hands tugged on his hair while he placed his kisses around my swollen lips. my mind felt blank. all i could focus on was chino and his lips on me.

“you’re so fucking hot baby.” he trailed his kisses down my neck. he realized he found my neck’s sweet spot when i moaned a little too loud. he started sucking on that special spot as his hands inched upwards on my thighs. a tension started growing inside me.

i grabbed his chin and brought his lips back up to mine. i licked his lips before breathing into his mouth. his arm wrapped around my waist.

“fuck, just let me have you tonight, please baby. i need you so fucking much right now.” he moaned into my mouth. “you should’ve never wore these tonight.” he tugged at my fishnets again. i wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tightly.

a sudden knock interrupted, making us jump. “y/n! get inside right now!” my mom yelled at me. oh god, not right now mom. i gave chino an apologetic look and look down to see his total hard on he had. a wave of guilt washed over me knowing he had to go home unsatisfied. of course the first time in a while i’ve had any action, i couldn’t have this go smoothly.

“i’m sorry, chino.”

he smiled. “it’s okay princess.”

my mom banged on the window again.

“y/n!”

“yeah i’m coming!” i swung the door open and gave my mom a look. she turned over at chino.

“camillo, i was not expecting this from you!” she scolded chino.

“i’m sorry, mrs. l/n.” he let out a chuckle but immediately shut himself up. he cleared his throat. “it won’t happen again.”

“yeah my mother heard that once too.” she rolled her eyes and walked away grabbing my wrist with her. “let’s go, y/n.”

i gave chino an apologetic look again as i was being dragged away by my mom. he smiled and waved before driving away.

a/n: what do you guys think of the new chap ? i hope everyone loves it as much as i do ! this is one of my favorite chapters so please leave a like if you enjoyed it. new chap out next friday ! lots of love <3

[hangon-silvergirl]

for the au ask game: a roommates or housemates au??

So I've had this rough idea in my head for a while:

It's December 2019 and Eddie Munson's roommate, Gareth, announces that he's going to be moving out of the two bedroom apartment they've been sharing for the last few years, come February (to move in with his girlfriend). Eddie's happy for his friend, obviously, but is annoyed by the now tedious task facing him: He can't afford this place by himself, and none of his friends need somewhere to live, so he needs to find a new roommate.

Technologically impaired Eddie rebuffs all offers to post on sites like Craigslist and Facebook Marketplace on his behalf; instead he posts an ad in the newspaper, and sticks fliers up in his neighborhood, and around the local college campus.

Chrissy Cunningham has a massive falling out with her family over Christmas. She breaks up with her long-term boyfriend, gets cut off financially, and gets kicked out of her house with nothing but a backpack full of clothes, another full of her school things, and her car. She sleeps in her car for a few nights before her friends figure out what's up, and then she starts couch-surfing. She gets a job at a café on campus (this girl is just a barista in my brain, idk); her next semester of school is already paid for, but she needs somewhere to live, and to figure out loans for the rest of her degree, and how to pay for food and books and car insurance and etc.

She sees Eddie's flier on the community board in the café, re-reads it a lot, but doesn't know how she feels about living with a man. She keeps seeing the fliers EVERYWHERE though; gas station and library and the campus pub, and even one day tucked under the windshield wiper of her car (Eddie's getting desperate). Eventually one day in late January when cleaning up a combed through newspaper off of a table at work, she sees the published ad and thinks, that's it's, gotta listen to the universe, so she finally takes the plunge and texts him.

They meet and hit it off alright and agree that she'll move in. Things go a-okay for the first little while; they're living separate lives after all, so really only see each other in passing, and for the occasional shared meal. A little flirty, there's potential there obviously, but they've both got enough going on and this friendship is new, so... foundations first, ya know?

Then... Then the pandemic hits, and into lockdown mode they go. They have to navigate the trials and tribulations of learning to live with someone you do not know, spending 100% of their time together, in the midst of the world falling apart; remote school, remote work, government payouts, making bread, etc. The whole nine yards.

Naturally the stress of it all plus all the teeny, little annoyances stack up and up and up until they culminate in a massive, yelling argument over... idk toaster and jam crumbs in the margarine container or something otherwise equally stupid, and that ends in them kissing each other aggressively to shut each other up, and thus begins a very passionate and distracting way to pass the time.

Thanks for the ask, @hellcheerocracy!

Request comes from this post: Send Me an AU & I'll Give You 5+ Headcanons About It.

[angelamajiki]

[ study date - part two ]

PARING: Bully! Yandere! Hawks x Reader x Bully! Yandere! Dabi

CW: quirkless college au, yandere, noncon/dubcon, mindbreak, dacryphilia, boot licking, boot humping, humiliation, degradation, cum eating, spanking, physical abuse, verbal abuse, scumbag dabihawks

AN: finally part two is here!! sorry about the long wait. mind the tags and enjoy!!

PART ONE

The situation was all too suspicious. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you knew the two of them had something to do with it. They always have something conniving up their sleeves, inventing new ways to torment you.

Not less than a day ago did you receive that dreaded phone call, and of course, the pair of them were there to witness your breakdown because of it. Because of your failing grade in chemistry, your scholarship was revoked which meant that you lost your housing privileges for the campus. And those two seemed all too happy to watch you crumble and sob in front of them like a child.

“Sounds like you're down on your luck, princess. What's a girl to do?”

Touya was all too pleased about the situation, the smug bastard. A warm hand made a place for itself on your lower back as it rubbed circles of faux sympathy. Sobs dribbled from your mouth as his hands moved lower to grip your hips from behind.

“Now, now, Touya. Don't tease her like that.” Keigo tutted, leaning against the wall next to the two of you. “Perhaps we coulda let our girlfriend come stay with us.” He sighed dramatically, quirking his brow at you before looking away.

So that was it. They wanted you to grovel at their feet and beg for mercy if you wanted their help, just like last time.

“Too bad we don't have one, doll. Ya made yourself pretty clear that you just aren't interested in us. Such a shame, we coulda been a real big help, ya know.”

Touya patted you on the back before walking off down the hall with Keigo, leaving your tear-stricken face all alone.

“W...Wait!” It came out more desperate than you could have hoped. The two of them stopped but refused to turn to look at you. The silence was deafening. “I’ll go out with the both of you. I'll be your girlfriend.”

Admission alone should have been good enough for them, but your constant denial had left them greedy for more.

“And just how do we know you're not looking to mooch off us, babe?”

Rats, they were right. You had no way to prove you wouldn't just use them, abuse them, and lose them.

“Touya, I thought I said to stop teasing princess.” Keigo chuckled, turning to look at you with narrowed eyes. “Of course, we’ll go out with you; nothing would make us happier to call you our girl.”

Taking your hand, he helped you up off the bench and swiped the tears from your eyes. Humiliation flushed your face as you struggled to look anywhere but his hawk-like eyes.

“C’mon, doll. Let’s go clean out your dorm and head back to our place.”

»»————-　　————-««

Back in your apartment, the boys made quick of boxing up your things and loading them into Keigo’s pick-up. The poor distraught thing you were, the bathroom is where you holed yourself up and cried your heart out. The fact that you had to stoop as low as to live with your bullies to survive? And you thought you couldn't be more humiliated than the last time they offered helo. It’ll be temporary; you tried to convince yourself. You'll stay with them a few weeks and be on your merry way, finding someone else to stay with. Hell, you’ll couch surf if you have to. Anything was better than staying with those demons.

“Hey, doll!” Touya rapped his fingers on the door thrice before opening up to your crying form. “Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears. Your boyfriends are here to help.” His wolfish grin said otherwise.

“Bird brain and I finished packing your shit. Let's hit the road.”

A rough hand yanked you up from the floor, tugging you along. A yelp flew from your mouth before you could stop it as you pushed up against the sink, pinned in by Touya’s hips on yours.

“On second thought, I can't let my pretty girl feel so down, now can I? Let me give you something that’ll cheer ya up.”

A hard tent nestled its way up your skirt as he ground his hips against you.

“Let your man take care of you, huh? I’ll give you something good to cry about.”

Keigo was content to watch from the doorway as his partner continued to make you squirm under him.

“Besides, we haven't discussed payment. Rent ain’t free, princess.”

God, were these men cruel to you. You can't really expect any less from the men who were content to bully you in the first place.

“All my money was from the scholarship; I don’t-”

A hearty laugh came from the blonde, eyes narrowing in on your pinned form.

“Who said anything about money?” He quipped, sauntering over to you and took your chin in his hand. “You can pay us back with your obedience. We want a well-behaved slut that we can come home to, not some brat we have to take kicking and screaming.”

What choice did you have? They had you pinned in a corner, like a mouse caught by two feral cats who were just a bit too hungry to have any kind of patience to play games.

“I-I understand.” You swallowed, nodding in Keigo’s palm.

“Really now.” Touya drawled out, taking Keigo’s spot in the doorway. It was apparent they didn't want you to bolt on them. “I’m not convinced. You gotta prove yourself to us first, little girl.”

The bare mattress creaked under his weight as he took a seat in your room, legs spread as he motioned you towards him with his finger. Keigo, although reluctantly, let go of your face and locked both doors as he took a seat in the corner, seemingly content to watch the display.

A throaty chuckle left the man as you stood in front of him.

“Strip.”

The command left you shivering under his predatory gaze, a low whistle coming from his mouth as he fucked you with his eyes.

“Kei, put on some music.”

“Yes, sir.” He purred, using his phone for tunes and snatching yours from your purse before pocketing it in his jacket. Girls, Girls, Girls by Mötley Crüe filled the walls of your dorm, both men gratified by watching your little dance for them.

First went your shirt, tossed off onto the floor as your face flushed with shame. Tears welled in your eyes before you screwed them shut while swaying to the music.

“Hey! Eyes open and on me, little girl.” Touya snapped, spanking the side of your ass as punishment. You hiccuped, sucking in a breath to hold back the tears. The stress of the situation weighed you down, bursting you at the seams as you openly sobbed while removing your bra. Music blaring and laughs all around from Touya; you looked to Keigo for help; he always seemed to be on your side. Head thrown back against the wall, he jerked himself to the sound of your cries, winking and whistling as you looked back at him.

“Hurry it up; you're not very good at dancing, doll. You're stiff as a board.”

“She’s not the only one who's stiff.”

Cackles and guffaws filled the room, piercing your ears to the point where you thought you would go deaf at the next sound of their voices. Mindlessly, your clothes were haphazardly thrown off before you crumpled into a ball on the floor, shaking and sobbing.

“Aww, is baby having a bad day? Come to daddy.”

Touya helped you up off the floor before placing your bare cunt atop his left boot. “Why don't you relieve some stress, huh?”

The boot jerked under you, pressing up against your clit as you yelped. Getting the memo, you started to grind your hips down against his boot. Your cries quelled as you rocked your hips into a steady rhythm, biting your lip when you felt pleasure began to pool in your gut. How depraved were you? Getting off on your bully's boot while the other one got off to watching you. It was enough to make you sick, forcing you to cling to Touya’s thigh and rest your forehead there. A collection of moans and classic rock music blared in your room, bouncing off the walls so loudly that it made you even hazier.

As much as you wanted to deny it, the man had a point. You might as well submit and let yourself feel good; there's no getting out of it. Gasps and moans left your drooling mouth as you ground your hips on the tip of his boot with enthusiasm, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure slowly crescendoing in your core.

“Atta, girl.” Touya growled, gripping your hair from the scalp as he made eye contact with you. “Look at when you cum.”

Incoherent responses left your lips as you began to cry again, only that it was from pleasure this time. He continued to sustain eye contact as he fisted his cock, letting go of your hair in lieu of sticking his fingers in your mouth and choking you with them. Warbled cries fell onto his fingers as your hips increased in speed, thighs sputtering and shaking as you came close to creaming yourself on his boot.

“Cum on my boot, slut.”

His cock was aimed at your open mouth as you grunted and moaned, eyes cloudy as they rolled back into your bed. You came with a cry, squirting all over his patent-leather boot as your body shook with the sheer force of your orgasm.

Touya was not too far behind you, moaning your name as he shot his seed into your waiting mouth, covering your nose after finishing.

Like the obedient whore they needed you to be, you swallowed. His foot kicked up into you, knocking you off his leg.

“Disgusting. Clean up your mess, bitch.”

Nodding, a small whimper left your mouth as you began to lick your juices off his boot. Kitten licks and long strokes alike made their way around the leather, whining when he would shove his foot roughly in your face at times.

“Y’know, I’m still not convinced, sweetheart,” Keigo called out from behind you, taking a fist full of hair in his clutch as he pulled you up from the floor. “Beg for my forgiveness, and I’ll know you’re not trying to run a game on us.”

With a still tight reign on your hair, he threw you to the bed face down, ass up while discarding his own clothes. A harsh spank thwacked on your ass as he gripped the reddening flesh right after.

“Damn this ass is gonna be the death of me. Ain't that right, Touya?”

“Sure is; it's all she's good for.”

Neither of them really meant those nasty things they spewed at you, but it just felt too good at the moment to pass up seeing you cry. The sooner you learn that submission is the way to their hearts, the easier you'll have it. Sure, you were a whore, but you were their whore.

“Hope this pussy’s ready for a pounding cause Daddy is coming in.” He chuckled, groaning as he sank his length into your tight, unprepared vice. Whimpering and squirming beneath him, you attempted to grip the bare mattress for purchase as you felt the sting and stretch of his cock thrusting inside you. The pain wasn't terrible, but it was still there. You wiggled your hips, hoping to get some friction before another spank was administered.

“I haven't heard any begging yet.”

“P-Please fuck me, Keigo.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for, sweetheart.”

Oh? Oh.

“Please let me be your girlfriend! Please, I need to be yours; I need you!”

A slew of curses flew out of him as he pinned your hips down, thrusting deep and slow inside you. The pace was agonizingly slow as you tried to move your hips.

“Please, please, please!” you babbled. “Keigo, Touya. Let me be your girlfriend; let me be your obedient whore. I need to be yours!”

Humiliation hardly fazed you anymore as you let yourself, babbling and crying out begs and pleas for your two bullies.

Keigo happily increased his thrusts, pounding into you as a man possessed. Growls and snarls spat from his mouth as he savored the way your tight pussy fluttered around his painfully hard cock.

“Such a good girl for us, good girl.” The blonde moaned, pressing a sloppy kiss to the back of your neck. He lapped at the sweat there, leaving bite marks and blood for you to find later.

Your moans and cries were music to their ears, the most hypnotic melody they had ever heard. Touya stroked himself off in the corner, pleased with your earlier performance and giving his partner space to hit the nail into the coffin.

You, on the other hand, were being fucked out of your mind as Keigo dicked you down good. Good enough to make you forget your worries, your troubles, your life ripping apart at the seams for even just a moment. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled your senses as you felt the pleasure come at you full speed.

“T-Tell me you love me, that you love us.”

“Oh, someone’s feeling bold, birdie.”

Strings of “I love you”s flowed freely from your mouth as you chased your high, wanting to feel pure and utter relief, albeit it is just for a moment.

You came with a cry, spasming on his cock as he came deep inside you. A bright, white sensation filled your senses as you grasped onto your clarity for as long as you, not wanting to come down from your high.

Toned arms rested on either side of you before enveloping you in a warm hug.

“Good job, princess.”

A sweet whisper filled your ears before a kiss was placed on your cheek. Silence fell over the room, save for all of your panting and breathing. In your post-orgasm clarity, you couldn't help but realize something.

Wasn't Touya’s father dean of the school?

[alt-froggy13]

Gareth x Fem reader fluff (romantic) where maybe reader is surfing the crimson wave (period 💔) and he like comforts her and stuff and cuddles with her, or platonic Susan Heffley comforting fem reader because of a bad day at school or something? Either one, it's up to you (you don't have to write the period stuff if it makes you uncomfortable, it could just be normal fluff for Gareth)

HELLO!! thank you for the request! i'll do both since i'm in a big writing mood! (sorry Gareth's is short, i only seen some clips from stranger things of Gareth, sorry if he's out of character)

Gareth (period comfort)

"Gareth, i have bad cramps.." you said, he looks at you with a worried face, "come here" he says softly, he sits on your couch, you walk over to him and you two cuddle in a comfortable silence, "do you have anything to help with your cramps?" he asks, you shake your head, he sighs "i'm guessing you don't wanna get up either?" he says smiling softly, you smile "no, i'm tired anyway, and comfy" you say snuggling into him, he gives you a kiss on your head, and lays his head on yours, closing his eyes to relax, and you do the same, there was distant music in the background due to the band practicing, Gareth was taking a small break from the drums "we should do this more often, don't ya' think?" you said softly, you hear a gentle hum from Gareth, as a yes to your question, you closed you eyes once again and relax, leaning into his chest, after a few moments you feel asleep, but Gareth didn't wanna move, so he feel asleep with you, when the Eddie came in, wondering why he was coming back to play the drums, he saw what was happening and decided to leave you two be until it was time for you two to leave.

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

Susan Heffley

today was the worst day you've ever had from school, you got picked on by Heather Hills for wearing "garbage shoes" when they were literally brand new!! you were already having a bad day from being late to school, you had to leave early for being "sick", your parent/guardian yelled at you for bad grades, your sibling(s) won't leave you alone and keep annoying you, and you parent/guardian grounded you for faking to be sick to leave school, so you were currently sneaking out a window to go to the Heffley's house, and talk to Susan, you knocked on her door, she opens it with a smile, as always "oh, hello Y/N, why aren't you at school?" she asks while moving out of the way so you could get in "faked being sick..where's Manny?" you ask sitting down on the couch "he's with Frank today, and why'd you fake being sick?" she asks with a gentle tone, sitting next to you "i was getting picked on, and i-i faked being sick so i could leave but, that just got me in trouble and grounded" you voice was now shaky and you were on the verge of tears "oh honey, no need to cry it's ok" Susan says, while pulling you into a hug while you cried, and cried, and cried "you wanna talk about it?" Susan asks, you shake your head "no..." you said "that's okay, just remember i'm here if you need me, ok?" she says, separating the hug, you wipe your eyes as you nodded "now it would be best if you head back home, don't wanna get in trouble again" she joked, you chuckled then sniffled "yeah, thank you Mrs. Heffley" you said "call me Susan hun, thank you for coming over" she said getting up and walking you to the door and waved godbye, now you gotta find a way to sneak back in.

i really loved writing these two! thank you for the request!!!

[thefanficmonster]

Hy, Vy! 📚🌻 Here!

I read that you're having a busy week so I just came here to give you some reminders: Get up for a bit, drink water. Relax for a bit: let your shoulders drop, unclench your jaw and hands, take a deep breath. Better? Hope you are taking care of yourself.

Your three words of today are: Scratch, Silk, snarl.

Take all the time you need and hope you have a good week!

Love, 📚🌻

Hi 📚🌻!

So nice to be hearing from you again! My busy week has finally been put to a pause worries-wise so I can relax and write A TON of fics for you guys so I can make up for being absent for so long 😌 I missed writing honestly and, not gonna lie, your three word challenges bring me so much joy, I'm not even kidding. So thank you for sending me another, in return I send you a short fluffy fic with the pairing I keep using because I'm obsessed 😅 along with all my love, hugs, kisses and support. They're all addressed to you 💌💌💌

Worthy

Pairing: Chris Redfield x OC - Gwen Winters (y’all already know her by now 😅)

No warnings, just pure fluff, Enjoy! 🥰

“Wow, don’t you look presentable.“ 

Now, while the comment is not at all false and is completely fair and true, he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Not when the younger girl was glaring at him before he even opened his mouth.

She can’t be having it easy: baby food in her hair, a questionable stain on her shirt, some dark spots along her arms and what looks to be paint on her forehead and cheeks. Oh and hands too.

“And you look unwanted.” She snarls, “The Devil sent you to prevent me from catching a break today, didn’t he?“ She made her glare even deadlier which he didn’t think was possible. He should know better than to underestimate her like that, Gwen Winters always has a way of surprising him after all. “Well, go back and tell him I wasn’t planning on catching a break either way so you aren’t needed“

Chris rolls his eyes, “For the last time, please stop making me sound like your worst nightmare took a human form.” He scoffs, reaching out to remove a crumb from her shirt, “In fact, I’m here to help.”

“Ethan and Mia sent you then. They don’t believe I have it handled, do they?“ She sighs, walking inside the surprisingly quiet Winters home.

Her Captain, taking that action of hers as a good sign, follows her inside, closing the front door behind him. “No, they don’t know I’m here actually. I called to check up on them and they said they were on a date so I immediately knew who got stuck with the babysitting duty and thought you’d need help.” He gives her a quick once-over, grimacing slightly at the sight she is, “And it seems like you really could use and extra pair of hands.”

“Well....when you put it like that I wish you showed up an hour ago. That’s when this happened.“ She motions to herself. “Christ, I need a change of clothes...and a shower.“ A sigh leaves her lips as her arms drop by her sides.

“And a bandage.“ He murmurs when his gaze suddenly lands on a particularly bad looking scratch on Gwen’s arm. “What happened to you?“

Her eyes follow his to where a red line has marked her skin. She lets out a laugh, “Believe it or not, Rose’s got one hell of a grip. God knows I’d be covered in bite marks if she had teeth.” The look of shock and concern that flashes across the older man’s face makes her laugh, “Hey, don’t worry, the shower will be quick and she’s a pretty heavy sleeper so you won’t have to deal with her on your own.”

He nods hesitantly, muttering a quick ‘Right’ before the girl disappears down the hallway in the direction of the staircase with the intention of grabbing herself some clean clothes she knows won’t remain clean for very long after her sister wakes up. Maybe they’re not blood related, but Gwen still refers to Rose as her sister. Not rare are the times she’s accidentally referred to Ethan as dad or to Mia as mom when talking about them with some of her friends at the BSAA, hell even when talking with Chris. She doesn’t even appear to notice when she says it, but he does, and a smile always briefly graces his features when she does.

As he’s surfing through the TV channels, less than ten minutes after he heard the shower turn on, the baby monitor comes to life with the displeased whines of a child that’s awoken from its slumber.  Chris Redfield, previously a BSAA soldier and now a captain, one who has faced thousands of horrors in his life, each more threatening than the last, is now frozen in place.

One thing this man hasn’t had much experience with is dealing with individuals below their teenage years. Sure, he held Rose when she was still a newborn but even that lasted less than five minutes cause he was so terrified of dropping her or her starting to cry. And now he has to go tend whatever need she has without knowing what they are or how to tend to them.

Wonderful.

Seeing as how the whines are rather quiet and haven’t turned into wails just yet he feels a bit bolder about the whole ordeal, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the stairs, passing by the bathroom where he hears Gwen singing ‘Lovefool’ like she’s the only person in the house.

“Don’t worry, Rose, I’d be crying too if I were awoken by that.“ He murmurs, stomping up the steps.

Entering the nursery, he’s pleasantly surprised to see Rose has stopped complaining and is just looking up at him, intrigued by the presence of this man she doesn’t recognize. Chris scoffs, deciding to drop the subject but right as he steps one foot out the door, the crying begins.

‘No way‘, he thinks to himself, slowly inching back into the room just for the cries to be put to a halt again. ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

“Listen kid, I’m not in any way, shape or for fit for this. Just hold on, your sister will be out in a minute, ok?“ His mouth is saying one thing but his mind is on a completely different level of following instincts - the fatherly instincts he never even thought he had. And while getting his soul stared into by this baby, he can’t help but give into those instincts, “Alright, but you better give me a good review if your sister asks. She can be really high strung sometimes, though I bet you already knew that, having to live with her and all.“ He murmurs as he lifts the now giggling Rose out of her crib, gently cradling her to his chest. To his relief, she stays quiet, relaxing in his embrace. “You’re much less of a handful than Gwen.” He chuckles softly, not wanting to disrupt the quiet too much in hopes it would lead to Rose falling back asleep soon. “I mean, I complain a lot about her and her attitude, but I’d do anything for her, if I’m being honest. She doesn’t know, of course, I haven’t told her. Not that she’d believe me if I did. She’s gotta be the most stubborn yet selfless, most sarcastic yet loving person I’ve ever met. She saves her good qualities for people who deserve to see em, I’m not surprised I’m not one of them. I’ve done nothing but give her a hard time since we met, but can you really blame? She was death-glaring me before we even exchanged names, for goodness’ sake. I probably shouldn’t bother a less than a year old baby with my problems but I have no other listener...” Looking down, he realizes Rose has fallen asleep. He huffs lightheartedly, a smile on his face, “Guess I didn’t have you either, huh?”

“You had me.“ He stiffens his muscles, startled by the foreign whisper that fills the room.

Slowly turning around, he finds Gwen leaning against the doorframe her small figure wrapped in a towel, arms crossed over her chest, her smirking face framed by a curtain of wet hair. She looks smug, too smug, insinuating she’s heard a good portion of his speech if not its entirety. 

“Don’t I at least get an applause?“ He rolls his eyes, hoping the blush isn’t as visible as he feels it to be. 

“You really think you deserve one with the amount of cheesiness you just spewed, not to mention gossiping about me to my own sister.“ She shakes her head with faux disappointment, her voice smooth like silk.

“Ok do I at least get a response then?“ He needs to know, there’s no way he can leave this house or even this room without getting an answer, no matter how disappointed he might be by it. Better a brutal answer than blind ignorance.

She purses her lips, her eyes leaving his and landing on the sleeping baby he almost forgot he was holding. She takes a few steps towards him, reaching out and taking gentle hold of Rose, her movements so light and careful the baby doesn’t even detect she’s being moved. Gwen lays her sister down in her crib even more carefully straightening up and placing her hands on the railing, smiling down at the sleeping toddler.

Chris stands there restless, his gaze analyzing and overanalyzing each and every shift of her facial expression, the tiniest changes in her body stance and body language. He’s never seen her so at peace and so relaxed, out of her usual surroundings and gear. The rough lines of her face softened by the sisterly love she’s displaying, watching over the sleeping Rose. There’s so much grace and beauty within her and it never fails to shine through. Not in the battlefield, not when faced with literal death, not even when she’s holding a weapon twice her size, making her look terrifying for the enemy.

He said he wasn’t surprised to be excluded from the tight circle of people she has - those who see her at her best - and he really isn’t. He doesn’t deserve her kindness, her softness, her smiles and laughter. He doesn’t deserve her. He’s not worth of a membership

Or that’s what he thinks, at least.

Gwen suddenly turns to him, the smile still present on her face as she gazes up at him, her head tilted back so she can look him in the eyes which is proving pretty difficult considering their proximity and height difference. Leaning back on the crib railing she sighs, “You’re right, a response would be adequate. But what kind would you like?”

He scoffs, his muscles tensing even more despite the smile on his face, “The most honest one you can offer me.”

She hums approvingly, nodding as though she’s contemplating her next move. He’s on the verge of telling her to forget it, let it all fall in the water and hope she forgets about it soon. He can deal with a few sleepless nights but that ultimate rejection, he knows it’ll sting a lot and for a long time.

However, just as he’s about to cross over the verge and open his big mouth he’s physically prevented from doing so by the pair of lips that have collided with his. Her lips. She’s kissing him.

‘Holy crap, what is happening?‘ It’s safe to say his mind’s racing which is mainly why it takes him a second or two to respond but when he comes to, he’s kissing her back with passion and longing, as though they’ve shared this kiss before. His arms automatically wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, while hers find themselves wrapped around his neck, her fingers gently tangling in his hair.

To say he’s disappointed when she pulls away would be an understatement but seeing as how she’s not in a rush to free herself from his grasp, he doesn’t complain. Instead, he allows her to rest her forehead against hers. He closes his eyes, their proximity intoxicating his mind, the scent of her freshly washed hair and skin making his thoughts hazy.

“Next time you wanna tell me something...“ Gwen whispers breathlessly, “...my sister is not the one you should turn to first.“

Chris chuckles, reattaching their lips in relief and ecstasy. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt quite like this: so high yet so grounded, so intoxicated yet sober. She gives him polar opposite experiences at once and it’s simply magical.

He may not be worthy of a membership in her inner circle, but he’s damn lucky she likes him as much as she does.

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

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

When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time.  They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say.  Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too.  In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life.  Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people.  It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people.  I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well.   They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together.  But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person.  I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts.  Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost.  Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive?  Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

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

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

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

Yes, I hurt its feelings.  Yes, it was insensitive.  Yes, I am sorry.  But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then.  As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy.  It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows.   It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word.  I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t.  Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”?  No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing.  I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display.  But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones.  Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me.   (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!)  I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio.   I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini.  Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work.   It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to!  Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to.   As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day.  Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it.  (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated.  First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!”  Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner.  Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared.  I look around and all I see is more and more pink.  From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing.  Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley?  They were laughing like him.  And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

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

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint?  (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not.  Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again.  Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone.  I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them.  For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval.  But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted.  If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it.  Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much.  (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away.  They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong.  I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues.  They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up.  This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade.  It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment.  Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD.  And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed.  In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

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

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink.  Like EVERYTHING.  The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow.  I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card.  I came home and got to making dinner.  While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me.  My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe.  To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade.  It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me.  It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath.  It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there.  Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around.  If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites.  There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay.  Pull up a chair!  It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.  

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time.  I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was.  Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me.  It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this.  I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks.  Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog.  Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person.  (Did it again!  I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place.  Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that.  I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do.  It just kind of happens without thinking about it.  The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing.  It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers.  (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

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

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, our talk.  I think I remember the most important bits of it.  It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me.  I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah!  Pretty amazing what you did with the place!  I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile.  I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed.  Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink.  If it stays like this, they might kick me out.  And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment.  The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared.  “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection.  Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend.  Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?”  (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.)  “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon.  It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there.  Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.”  They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.  

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up.  I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them.  Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers.  I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon.  The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over.  Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea.  Oh well.  No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

[unbridgeabledistances]

I love your last fic so much it got me thinking could you write something about like the gallaghers( +Kev and v and sandy etc) observing Ian and Mickey’s relationship? Like their perspectives of seeing them be soft with each other and just their dynamic? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol <3

hiiiii anon!<3 okay i want to start off by saying that this got WAY too long, bc i loved this prompt a lot- so much that i think i might make this a multi-part thing on ao3! i started with sandy (since i am in love with her) but i’ll also go through the gallaghers/kev & v soon- lmk if u guys want me to continue, and who u would want me to write next if i do (or if u want me to continue with sandy lol i have lots of thoughts and feelings)

this ended up taking place in s10 when we first meet sandy, fyi:) also tw for brief mentions of abuse (as always, bc of terry 🙄) -- and there is a reference to the line in 10x07 that jokes about mickey and sandy for a brief moment

--

When Sandy heard her phone buzz on that Tuesday afternoon, sitting on the stained and lumpy couch in her shithead uncle’s living room while drinking a beer and arguing with Alek about what type of insurance fraud could make the biggest payout, she had no idea what to expect on the other end of the line. The phone kept ringing, the contact info lighting up the screen: MICKEY.

Mickey? Shit. It had been a long fucking time. Between her own various juvie stints as a kid and Mickey’s time behind bars overlapping just as she got released, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey since… high school, maybe? Whenever it was, it was back when Mickey was a grimy kid with spikey hair and dirty fingernails, a kid with an obsession with guns and way too much time on his hands, back when they would hang out by the train tracks and drink beer and get way too high and do stupid shit; all in all, back when everything was a hell of a lot simpler. Sandy assumed Mickey had met Royal and been clued in about her shitshow of a life at some point while she’d been gone, and they’d possibly overlapped at a family party or two a few years ago when they both were in town— but other than hearing about the aftershocks of Mickey coming out and driving Terry up a goddamn wall, so much so that Terry broke his parole and was headed straight back to prison hours after his release, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey in forever.

Which is why this call intrigued her so much— Mickey was supposed to be in prison for at least a couple more years, or at least that’s what his brothers had said, so why the fuck was he using a cell phone right now?

Sandy nodded her head towards the cellphone, cutting Alek off mid-sentence and sliding her thumb across the screen to pick up the call. Before saying anything, she rose off the creaky springs of the couch and speedwalked out to the front porch before answering— whatever the fuck Mickey wanted, she assumed he was calling her because this conversation wasn’t for the ears of any other Milkoviches. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the post of the front stoop, listening to the silence hanging heavy on her phone’s speaker.

“Mickey? You there?”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Been a long time.” Mickey’s voice sounded the same; punchy and snarky, maybe a little gruffer and raspier after years of cigarette smoke. Sandy waited a moment for Mickey to give more of a reply, or an explanation for his call, but it was clear that Mickey wasn’t going to give one right away— it was like he was testing the waters, like he was deciding if making this call was the right move. Soft static echoed on the phone line.

Sandy totally got it— reemerging from a life of cinderblock cell walls and barbed wire fences fucking sucked, especially when you were a Milkovich and the moment you got out you were faced with a choice, an opportunity: did you want to go back home, or did you want to start fresh, erase your own name, and forget this dysfunctional family ever existed? Sandy knew she felt the same way when she got out. Mickey deciding to call Sandy was a big fucking move, and she realized that— reclaiming your life as a Milkovich on the brink of a new beginning took guts.

“So, I take it you’re out of prison?” Sandy asked after a moment, inhaling another slow puff of her cigarette.

There was that laugh again— Sandy had weirdly missed it. Honestly, Mickey hadn’t ever been too bad to be around— they’d both felt like outsiders in the family, had both always had a strong head on their shoulders and a fucking moral compass, unlike the rest of Terry’s sheep who did his bidding and got swastikas tattooed on their chest. When he was younger Mickey used to follow Terry and his older brothers around like a lost puppy, and he even got those fucking knuckle tats—but later in high school, Sandy remembered seeing something deep snap inside him, bleeding out in “STAY THE FUCK OUT” and “FUCK LOVE” signs taped onto his bedroom walls. At the time she thought it was the fucked-up shit with Terry and Mandy driving him up a wall— but now she realized the constant bombardment of homophobia, coupled with the cuts and bruises blooming on his cheeks and the cigarette burn scars on his arms, must have been signs of Mickey realizing the rude awakening that was inevitably going to come if he wanted to be who he was. Sandy couldn’t even imagine— no one really gave a shit who she fucked, and her cousins didn’t know anything about her sex life—but she couldn’t fathom being Terry’s son, the pride and joy of the Milkovich clan, and needing to outwardly admit those deeper parts of herself.

“Yup, I’m free to join civilization as of this morning. Overcrowding or some shit.” Sandy could hear Mickey also taking a drag of a cigarette on the other end of the line. She smirked to herself. Guess we both didn’t break the Milkovich nicotine addiction.

“So, uh, listen,” Mickey continued, and Sandy immediately knew he was in deep shit if she was the one he was calling to ask for a favor. “I’m in a bit of a… situation. Don’t wanna go into too many specifics, but there might be a massive fucking Mexican cartel after me right now.”

Sandy barked out a laugh before she could help herself. Fucking Mickey. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling thrilled to be a free man again.”

Mickey chuckled again. “Fuck you. But hey, d’you think you can bring my shit by to me, so I don’t have to stop by the house and get fucking killed? You don’t gotta rush or whatever, just didn’t wanna show my face quite yet.”

Sandy could feel all the unsaid things wrapped in the way Mickey’s sentence ended. Didn’t want to show his face quite yet because of this cartel bullshit, or because of Terry? She decided it didn’t really matter— Mickey was a good guy, she could spend an hour or so rounding up his shit and bringing it to him if that’s what he needed.

“Got it.” She blew out more smoke, watching it curl and drift over the wasteland of the front yard on a gust of summer air.

Mickey cleared his throat, like he was gearing up to say more. When he spoke, his voice was softer around the edges, more genuine than before.

“I’m, uh. I’m sure you heard everything about me while I was gone. About Terry flipping his shit. Probably not the best idea for me to come around the house quite yet—my brothers n’ I haven’t really talked much since then either.” He paused, inhaling another drag of his cigarette. “I figured you’d get it. And hey, if you can bring the stuff by, I’d love to hear all the badass shit you’ve been up to the past few years.”

Sandy nearly winced—yeah, if by “badass shit” you mean getting forcibly married to a douchebag and then couch surfing for months— but she tried to keep her shit together for Mickey’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing of the porch, straightening from where she was leaning.

“I’ve got it Mickey, don’t worry about it. Where are you right now, anyways?”

She could hear the hint of relief bleeding into Mickey’s voice when he replied. “I’m at the Gallagher house? The grey one by the tracks.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I was in jail for a couple of years Mickey, not braindead. I know where the Gallagher house is.”

Mickey huffed out a breath, but there wasn’t any sharpness in it. “Excuse me for tryin’ to be helpful, smartass.”

“Why the fuck are you there, anyways?”

“I’m, uh, crashing with my partner for now. Ian?”

Holy shit, Mickey was still fucking Ian Gallagher? Sandy had pieced together that Ian was the reason Mickey came out months after getting married to some Russian bitch, and according to Iggy the whole reason Mickey went to jail in the first place was some love-crazed revenge plot on Ian’s behalf— but since getting locked up Mickey hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, other than a shady-as-fuck message to his brothers after he’d busted out of prison letting everyone know that he was in Mexico, despite getting thrown back into jail in Chicago a couple months later. Sandy didn’t really know the details, and she especially didn’t know anything about Mickey’s love life— but it was wild as fuck that someone as unsettled and ruthless and batshit crazy as Mickey could’ve been with the same person all this time, especially someone as seemingly bland as Ian Gallagher. Huh. Wonder if I’ll get to see Ian.

“Got it. I’ll round up your shit and bring it by the Gallagher house later today. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know you called til you’re ready.”

Mickey exhaled on the other end of the line. “There shouldn’t be much, just check the drawers or whatever. “

Sandy knew for a fact that most of Mickey’s lingering possessions had probably been taken, sold, or thrown out by a zealously homophobic Terry by now, but she wasn’t going to say as much to Mickey over the phone.

“I’m on it. See you in a couple hours.”

“Hey, Sandy?” Mickey blew out a long breath, and this time Sandy couldn’t tell if it was because he was still smoking or because he was riding a wave of relief, releasing the floodgates of anxiousness he’d been holding in the whole conversation. “Thanks. I fuckin’ owe you one.”

Sandy smirked. Maybe Mickey being let out of jail early was a good thing, despite how fucked his whole situation seemed— maybe, for once, someone in her family would be fun to be around, wouldn’t set her teeth on edge every two seconds by making a racist comment or forcing her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’ll text you when I’m almost at your love nest.”

She imagined Mickey’s grin as he replied. “Fuck you. See ya soon.”

**

After scraping through every rickety dresser drawer in Terry’s house for nearly an hour, Sandy could barely come up with anything that was reportedly Mickey’s: a couple of tattered shirts, an impressively overused-looking bong, and a single sneaker she’d left behind because she couldn’t find the other one. She threw it all in some shitty burlap rucksack she’d found on one of the bedroom floors, assuming no one would miss it— it dawned on her that maybe her cousins were lying, and some of the other stuff in the house was still Mickey’s, but she’d collected what she could based on the whispered directions Alek and Iggy had given her when Terry was out of the room.

Sandy unlocked her phone, and typed a quick message to Mickey. “Out front.”

Mickey’s reply came quickly, and Sandy noticed the front curtains rustling on the top floor of the Gallagher house.

“Coming down”

The front door creaked open, and Mickey walked out onto the front porch. He looked good; he looked cleaner, sure, but also like a fucking adult—like he’d grown into himself, like he actually carried himself with confidence instead of just pretending to. He nodded his chin up at Sandy in acknowledgement.

“Long time no see.” He smirked, leaning on the banister. “You make a good delivery service. All those hauls we did with Terry must’ve been good training.”

Sandy lazily walked up the front steps, reaching the bag out in front of her for Mickey to take. “Here’s all the shit I could find. It’s not much.”

Mickey jerked his head to the open door behind him. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

Sandy grinned. Why the fuck not. “Sure."

So that was how she found herself perched on what was presumably Ian Gallagher’s bed, watching Mickey ruffle through the burlap bag, his brows furrowed as he realized just how much of his shit was actually gone.

“This everything?”

“As much as I could find.”

They comfortably chatted back and forth about how everyone was— Sandy decided to divulge the fact that Mickey’s brothers were idiots who tried to crawl in bed with her every night, which is something that she had to joke about so she didn’t go fucking insane sleeping under the same roof as them.

“Fuck ‘em, chop their nuts off next time they try it.”

Sandy smirked. Finally, a decent fucking relative. She made some hollow joke about staying with Mickey, alluding to the extra-shitty night decades ago when their cousins had forced them to make out when they were way too high on something.

“Or I could stay here with you. Have fun like we did when we were kids.”

“You know that’s fucked up, right? We’re fucking cousins!”

“Plus he’s taken.” A voice came from around the corner.

Ian Gallagher looked bigger, taller, and more solid than Sandy remembered; he was definitely miles away from the scrawny kid with the bangs who worked at the Kash N Grab that Sandy and her cousins endlessly used to fuck with in middle school. Ian’s shoulders were wide, his body imposing in the tiny room; immediately, Mickey’s aggravated stance softened when Ian walked in, wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

“Oh right, you.” Sandy grinned as Ian hunched over the bed and grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand.

Mickey had turned back to the bag of clothes. “Hey, I had shampoo and shit, is there soap anywhere?”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for years, you think your brothers would save that shit for you?” she bit out— and okay, maybe she was a little pissed at Mickey’s brothers for the constant-sexual-assault thing.

Ian just applied his deodorant and leaned in close to Mickey as he passed by the bed towards the doorframe. “You can use mine. We’ll hit Costco later, I’m getting paid.”

It was stupid, but Sandy felt something soft pang in her chest at Ian’s words; it was just now that she was realizing it, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone take care of Mickey before, or so… automatically factor Mickey’s needs into a situation. Being a Milkovich was all about scrounging and scraping, and guarding what little you had; a Milkovich would never let someone use their fucking soap just because they cared about them, or not as an immediate reaction anyways.

“Nah, I can’t, man. PO texted me when you were in the shower, he’s got a job for me.”

Ian kept looking at Mickey from where he was leaning in the doorway. “Then give me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up for you,” Ian said in an overly simple tone, like he was mocking the fact that Mickey didn’t realize Ian would run an errand for him.

Sandy smirked. Jesus, Gallagher is whipped.

“Isn’t that cute, little domestic bitches,” Sandy crooned before she could help herself.

Ian stepped into the room again and leaned in towards Mickey, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey aggressively tried to uncrumple one of the pile of shirts from the bag.

“Mm, thank you,” Ian said in reply, his voice muffling as he smushed his face closer to Mickey’s.

Mickey instantly smiled smugly as Ian’s lips pressed against his cheek—then he noticed Sandy was staring, so he flipped her off and smiled even wider. What the fuck? Sure, Mickey had flipped Sandy off, but he was practically fucking beaming in a way that Sandy had never seen. God, wonder if I’ll find this shit someday.

Ian detached himself from Mickey and walked out of the room, Mickey’s eyes lingering on his torso. Once Ian had turned the corner Mickey snapped back to attention, fixing his eyes back onto the small mountain of clothes spread on the bed in front of him. Mickey lifted the bong off the bedsheets, and met Sandy’s gaze. 

“You have to go, or d’you wanna hang for a bit? I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours, and it’s gonna suck enough that I should probably be high before I get there.”

Sandy grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m down.”

**

They sat on the rickety back steps of the Gallagher house, silently taking hits and passing the bong back and forth. It had been years since they’d been in the same space, but Sandy and Mickey easily sank into a comfortable silence, passively surrounded by the shrieks of kids playing across the alleyway and the bubbling of water as they inhaled. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose, then sat back so he was leaning against the banister and passed the glass pipe to Sandy.

“So,” Sandy started as she held the lighter to the bong and inhaled deeply. “Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh. “Yup. That’s some Romeo and Juliet shit for ya.”

Sandy smirked as she exhaled. “You really fucking love him, huh?”

Mickey eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he looked towards her. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He took the bong from Sandy’s outstretched hand. “Took me forever to get shit straight with him, though.”

Ah. So their road to domestic bliss wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Sandy’s curiosity was growing.

“Because of shit with Terry?”

Mickey stiffened, coughing a bit as he exhaled smoke, like Sandy’s question caught him off guard. “Shit. Yeah. That too. Let’s just say there were lots of fucking ups and downs, and we both had a lot of shit to unpack.”

Sandy snickered. “You sound like a fucking couples therapist.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “If you wanna see couples therapy, I should tell you about the months me and Ian were sharing a fucking cell. We nearly ripped each other’s heads off. We literally stabbed someone so one of us might get sent to fucking solitary.”

Sandy’s laughter grew. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mickey grinned, and passed the bong back to Sandy again. “Fuck. Yeah. I fucking love him, though. He’s fucking crazy, and I still can’t let him go.” Mickey looked off into the distance across the alleyway, and either the weed was really hitting him right now, or he was being a very sappy motherfucker.

Sandy nudged Mickey’s knee. “You guys are cute together.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word “cute,” and Sandy quickly tried to rephrase. “Not cute, but y’know. Good for each other. You seem happy. Happy is... good.”

Mickey nodded pensively. “How’re you doing, anyways?”

Sandy shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. We can talk about me another time. How the fuck did you and Ian end up sharing a jail cell, anyways?”

Mickey let out a throaty laugh. “I heard Gallagher was getting locked up when I was down south, so I essentially pulled some strings and fucking snitched on the cartel I was working for. Hauled my ass back up here so we could be together.”

Holy fuck. Sandy’s jaw nearly dropped. “Mickey, you’re batshit crazy.” She shoved him squarely in the chest this time. “Are you fucking serious?! You evaded the feds, were living in Mexico, and you came back for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, placing the bong on the steps. “I can’t explain it, man. I just didn’t wanna be anywhere else, I guess.”

Sandy leaned back onto the banister. “Shit.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask the next question. “Do you… want me to tell anyone you’re back?”

Mickey glanced over at her, his eyes alert. “Nah. Not yet. That okay with you?”

Sandy nodded. “Of course.” Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the time and presumably looking for a distraction from tiptoeing around talking about Terry— but Sandy had to tell him, had to let him know one more thing.

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey looked up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t really know the details of what went down with Terry, or whatever— but I just wanted to let you know that… if you ever wanna come home, I’m on your side. No questions asked. And I think a lot of the others are, too.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upward. “Thanks.”

Sandy stood, checking her phone and zipping her leather jacket. “Well, I’d probably let you sober up a bit before your big parolee first day of work.”

Mickey raised a middle finger up to her from where he was seated, but then rose to stand.

“Thanks for comin’ by. And hey—you’re free to crash here anytime. There’s a million fucking kids running around all the time, but there’s always a couch or something open if everyone at home’s giving you too much shit.”

Sandy felt something warm growing in her chest. It had been a long fucking time since someone offered to take care of her, just because they could, just because they wanted to— maybe being a Milkovich wasn’t half bad. Maybe there were some good ones.

Sandy nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to walk down the creaky back steps. Wow. If Sandy was sure of one thing right now, it was that Mickey really, really fucking loved Ian Gallagher.

[capsteddybear]

Our Playlist: Candy - Cameo

Song lyric: **" You're like a brand new feeling, in a special way, A surprise package, On a bright clear sunny day."

You and Chris are unpacking all of the food and drinks you just bought from the store for your game night. Tonight you would be meeting some of Chris' friends. Okay not just friends, but his fellow co stars from the Avengers.

You let out a deep breathe, "Not gonna lie I'm kinda nervous about meeting everyone."

Chris stops unpacking and touches your hand, "there's no reason to be. I love you and they will too." He kisses your cheek and continues unpacking the food. You put all of the drinks and beer in the fridge while Chris sets up the snacks on the coffee table. You guys then get games from the hallway closet and place them on the coffee table. You also bring out one of your portal white boards to keep score and to maybe play pictionary.

The doorbell rings and Chris takes your hand, "they're here." You take a deep breath as you're walking to the door and Chris squeezes your hand, "hey, it's gonna be fine" and kisses you on the cheek. You smile and Chris opens the front door. The first person you see is Anthony Mackie.

"Heeeey!" Chris and Anthony exchange hugs and Chris introduces you. "Anthony, this is (y/n). (Y/n) this is Anthony."

You shake his hand, "nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine. You're more beautiful than Chris described."

You blush at his comment, "thank you."

"Hey stop flirting with the poor girl, she's already taken." You turn around and see Scarlett.

You laugh, "Hi Scarlett."

"Hi, it's (y/n), right?" You shake hands.

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. And ignore Anthony's flirty comments." She gives him a playfully punch on the shoulder. She greets Chris with a hug, "hi Chris."

"Hi Scarlett."

Next to walk in is Sebastian Stan and Chris Hemsworth.

"This is Sebastian and this is the other Chris. Guys, this is (y/n)."

"Hi (y/n), nice to meet you" Sebastian shakes your hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"Hi, other Chris" you laugh as you shake his hand.

"Please, feel free to call me Hemmy. There'll be less confusion."

You smile, "Alright, Hemmy it is."

Chris closes the front door as everyone takes a seat in the living room, "you guys want a beer or something to drink?"

Everyone including you answers yes in unison. Chris laughs and heads to the kitchen to grab some beers for everyone.

Anthony scoots to the edge of the couch and clips his hands together, "Alright, so what's the first game we're gonna play? I came here to win!"

Scarlett points to the white board, "let's start off easy, how about some pictionary?"

Sebastian answers, "sounds good. Who's on what team?"

"Well I would say boys versus girls, but we're outnumbered" Scarlett replies.

"I'll be the better man and join you ladies," Hemmy raises his hand.

Chris walks back into the living room with everyone's drinks, "so did we decide what we're starting with?"

You answer, "yeah, pictionary. And you're on the loser team with Sebastian and Anthony" you give Chris a smirk and everyone laughs.

"Oh, starting the trash talking early aren't we?" Anthony asks.

"Of course." You smile at Anthony.

"Alright let's start. Our team goes first." Anthony grabs a marker from the table and a card with the subject on it.

You grab the sand timer from the table, "Okay you got 30 seconds to draw. Ready? Go!" You flip it over and the sand starts to flow. Everyone's attention is on Anthony as he starts to draw. He starts with a stick figure standing on some sort of board.

Chris and Sebastian start yelling out their guesses.

"Surfer!"

"Surfing!"

Anthony shakes his head. He adds dots around the stick figure.

"What the fuck is that???" Chris shouts.

Everyone starts laughing. Anthony then draws pine trees.

"Snowboarding?"

"Snowboarder?"

Anthony then draws an arrow to the board.

"Snowboard!" Sebastian stands up and yells.

"Oh my God finally" Anthony says.

"Wait, hang on, what are the dots?" Chris points to the picture, "are those supposed to snowflakes? That's not how you draw snowflakes, man."

"whatever, we got the point."

Anthony takes a seat back on the couch and Scarlett is the first to go from your team. Sebastian flips the timer and Scarlett begins to the draw. She first draws a big mouth with teeth showing. You and Hemmy begin guessing.

"Smile!"

"Teeth."

She then draws a toothbrush.

"Toothbrush!"

She adds bubbles around the toothbrush.

You point to the board and shout, "toothpaste!"

"Yes!" Scarlett runs up to you and gives you a high five.

Sebastian is up next. You flip the timer and he begins drawing. First he draws a t-shirt and pants.

"Clothes!"

"Outfit!"

Sebastian then adds a bed.

"Pajamas!?" Chris yells.

Sebastian nods his head, "Yeeeeeah." He gives Chris and Anthony fist bumps before taking a seat. It's now Hemmy's turn to draw. Chris flips the time and he starts. He draws a circle with a little leaf on the top.

"An apple!"

"A tomato.

He then draws a bottle.

"Apple juice?"

"Apple cider!"

Hemmy shakes his head and quickly draws a hotdog and a squiggly line on it and points to it.

You stand up and shout, "ketchup!"

Hemmy points to you and everyone busts out laughing. Hemmy gives you a high five and passes the marker to Chris. He grabs a card and he waits for you to flip the timer to begin drawing.

Chris starts with a big square.

"Picture frame."

"TV."

Chris laughs and draws a couple of fish.

"A fish tank!"

"Finding Nemo?"

Chris shakes his head and continues drawing. He draws stick figures.

"Scuba diving!"

"Deep sea divers!"

Chris shakes his head again and adds a whale, but the timer runs out.

"Time!!!" Scarlett shouts.

Chris groans, "damn it."

"Was it an aquarium?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah." Chris answers. He puts his head down and walks over to you and hands you the marker. You give him a pouty face and pat him on the shoulder as you walk by. Sebastian flips the timer and you start drawing.

"Balloon!"

"Hot air balloon"

You then add a stick figure to the bottom of the balloon.

"Skydiving"

"Sky diver."

You draw an arrow to the balloon part of your drawing.

"A parachute!" Hemmy yells.

"Yes!" You run up to your teammates and give a high five.

You guys play a couple more rounds. Your team has been in the lead by just 1 point. It's the last round and Chris' team needs to get this last drawing in order to win the game.

"Alright so who's gonna go for your team?"

"Uh we vote Sebastian to go."

Sebastian stands up and heads to the white board.

"Come on man you got this." Anthony roots.

You flip the timer and he starts drawing. Within a couple of seconds the game is over.

"Cat"

"Kitten!"

Sebastian quickly turns around bows.

"What the fuck? That was too easy." You yell.

Everyone cracks up.

Anthony leans over, "what did you say about the losing team earlier?"

You roll your eyes and stick out your tongue, "oh shush."

"What should we play next?" Scarlett asks.

Anthony quickly replies, "doesn't matter because I'm gonna win."

Sebastian grabs the deck of cards on the table, "Uno?"

You raise an eyebrow, "How about drunk uno? If you forget to shout out Uno when you're down to one card you gotta take a shot in addition to picking up cards."

Everyone nods, "sounds good."

You run to the kitchen to grab shot glasses and liquor from the cabinet while the rest of them clear off the coffee table and grab extra chairs from the dining room and sit around the table. Chris shuffles the cards and passes them out.

While you guys are playing they ask how you and Chris met. Chris explains how you met at the welcome home party. You smile and start to reminisce and forget to yell uno when you put your card down.

Sebastian quickly points to you and shouts, "uno! Take a shot."

"Ah shit, I got distracted."

Chris quickly turns to you and kisses your cheek, "sorry" he whispers.

You laugh and pour yourself a shot.

The game continues. During the game Hemmy and Anthony end up taking shots for forgetting to shout uno. Scarlett ends up winning the first game. Chris wins the second game even though he had to take 2 shots for not yelling uno the first two times. You were starting to think that the alcohol was helping him focus because he also won the next game. You guys play a few more rounds of uno before just lounging around the coffee table talking and drinking.

Chris and Anthony get up from their seats to go to the kitchen for more snacks.

You go to the bathroom while the others pick what game they wanna play next. When you come back from the bathroom the group has decided to play cards against humanity and are setting up the game. You head to the kitchen to tell Chris and Anthony to hurry up when you sneak up on them talking about you. You hide behind one of the pillars and listen in on their conversation.

"You seem really happy", Anthony says leaning against the kitchen counter.

Chris looks down and smiles, "I am, man. I really am", he takes a drink of his beer.

"She's perfect for you, man. She has the same humor as you."

He laughs, "Thanks. I love her so much."

Your eyes tear up a bit and you smile. You take a deep breath and come out from behind the pillar. "Hey guys, we're ready for the next game. Let's go." You walk up to Chris and wrap your arms around him. He notices your eyes are watery.

"You okay?"

"Uh yeah", you put your hand on his chest.

Chris smiles and kisses your forehead.

"Alright you love birds, let's go" Anthony buds in.

You guys head back to the living room and rejoin the rest of the group. During the rounds of Cards Against Humanity the group gets a real feel for the sense of humor you have. A dirty sense of humor to be exact because you win the first two games.

You guys play for a bit longer before calling it quits since its 3 o'clock in the morning. Once everyone has left, you and Chris attempt to clean up, but are distracted by each other. Every time you pass him he grabs you and kisses you.

You moan against his lips, "come on Chris, we gotta clean up. I don't wanna do it tomorrow morning."

He groans and kisses your forehead, "Okay fine, but as soon as we're done you're mine."

You guys continue cleaning up, but when you see Chris in the kitchen putting stuff away in the cupboard you sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him. He jumps at your touch, "hey, what did you say earlier? Hands off til we're done."

"Yeah, I'm done" You kiss him on the cheek.

He points to the counter, "Okay but I'm not. I still need to put this stuff away."

You tickle his sides, "hurry up."

"Hey!" Chris quickly turns around and tries to tickle you, but you slip out of his reach and take off running down the hallway to your bedroom. "You're not getting away that easy."

Chris grabs you and you both fall onto the bed out of breath and laughing. He rolls you over so he's laying on top of you both of his arms on either side of you so he doesn't squish you. You run your hands up and down his forearms as he looks into your eyes. You both calm down from laughing. "Told you I'll catch you."

You bite your lip, "Now that you have me, what's next?"

"This." Chris leans down and starts kissing you. You moan against his lips. You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer. He kisses your neck, "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you too."

You guys keep kissing each other before you push on Chris' chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm hot."

Chris laughs, "why yes you are."

You smile, "No, well thanks, but I meant you're making me hot."

Chris raises an eyebrow, "you're welcome."

You laugh, "goddamn it, that's not what I meant, Chris. Well in that category you are too, but I mean temperature hot." You tug at his jacket.

He looks down and laughs, "Oh." He sits on the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes and starts taking off his jacket and shirt. When he turns back he sees you have taken off your shirt as well. He lays back on top of you. "Better?"

"Much better?" You wrap your arms around his back and kiss him. Chris' hands start to wander down your sides, but he feels you tense up and stops.

"Hey what's wrong?" He cups your face with his hand. You keep your eyes close and stay silent. Chris kisses you on the cheek. "(Y/n), what's wrong? Talk to me."

You open your eyes and let out a deep breath, "As much as I would love to have sex with you right now, I'm not ready yet... Sorry." Your eyes are watery so you look away.

Chris cups your face so you would look at him, "Hey, Don't be sorry. I'm more than okay with waiting." He kisses your cheek as a single tear rolls down. "I love you." He hugs you before rolling over and pulling you close to his chest.

"I love you too."

[guqwrvte]

When he’s looking for affection

⨽ pairing: taehyung x reader

⨽ genre: fluff 

⨽ warnings: none

.

part of the scenario game

.

"y/n?" Taehyung asked as he knocked on your office door. "Not now, Tae. I'm busy," you replied as you typed away on your computer. Taehyung let out a sigh before mumbling an okay.

Taehyung missed you. He did. You had become distant ever since your boss started sending you many documents to edit and look over. You had been so caught up in your work you started to be less affectionate with him. All he wanted was for you to take a break from work and relax with him in the comfort of your bed.

He understood this was important, but... he just felt you were overworking yourself. You'd come into bed late and leave early morning. You'd skip most of your meals if he didn't end up forcing you to eat.

.

Taehyung sat on the couch with a frown on his face as he surfed through Netflix, trying to find something to watch. You had gotten out of your office. You had finalized the last of the documents meaning you were done for a while.

"Hi hyung," you heard Taehyung say as you walked into the living room. "Sup Taehyung," you heard Jimin's voice fill the space. He must be on speaker. "How are you?" Jimin asked. "I'm okay, just feeling a bit... I don't know," he said, causing you to grow curious. "Is something wrong?" "It's just y/n has been so caught up in her work we haven't had a day to ourselves. We also haven't been very affectionate with each other for some reason," he said, causing you to frown.

"I remember you telling me her boss has given documents to work on. Is she still busy with them?"

"Yeah. She's been working really hard, but I miss her randomly kissing me, and when I'd ask her what it was for, she'd shrug and say no reason," he said with a chuckle.

A small smile appeared on your lips before being replaced by a frown. You didn't realize you'd been so caught up in your work that you'd been neglecting him. "I gotta go. Text later?" "I'll text you later then," Taehyung said, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Bye." Taehyung ended the call. He stood up from the couch and turned around, only for his eyes to slightly widen.

"y/n?" he asked, surprised to see you there. You wasted no time that to run into your boyfriend's arms. Taehyung was confused. Usually, you'd be in your office. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, trying to unwrap your arms around him only for you to tighten your grip. "No, I just wanted to hug you," you said, causing him to slowly wrap his arms around you.

Taehyung rested his chin on your head and smiled. He was glad to have you in his arms. "I'm done," you said, causing him to raise a brow. "What do you mean?" "I finalized the documents. I'm free to do whatever you want for now," you said.

Taehyung quickly unwrapped his arms for your body. He cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes. "Really?" he asked, and you nodded before pressing your lips against his. Taehyung smiled into the kiss before sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .