#i’m trying to cram in everything i haven’t been doing this whole time i’ve been in college

[kannagen]

went to my college’s bars for the first time this weekend and they were exactly as i expected. i did pregame too hard and was veryyyy drunk and i did have fun but they are lame and full of people i have no interest in. but alcohol and music will work on me regardless and no cover so whatever it was fun to be white girl wasted and bar hop for a night ☺️

[twigstarpikachutroll22]

Finally making a post with my thoughts on Trolls: Band Together

I’m. Not too excited for this one.

The whole premise of Branch having brothers we didn’t know about (and them having been a boy band), I’m a little iffy on that whole idea. The “surprise, he secretly had long-lost siblings” thing seems unnecessary to me, like, did we really need this? I don’t think we did. And the boy band thing...I dunno, there were a couple of good jokes out of it in the trailer, but boy bands are not really my cup of tea, and I can’t tell how much the ridiculousness of it is just the franchise’s typical goofy fun and how much it’s just kinda stupid. The whole premise just feels like we really could’ve done without it.

I don’t think they’re definitely not gonna execute it well at all. I’ve heard that a major thing in the storyline is going to be seriously addressing at least some of the not-great Implications this has related to Branch’s whole backstory, and I won’t say I have zero hope that they can do that well. But I’m really not sure.

I also hope to heck that they won’t majorly mischaracterize Poppy and Branch or try to cram too much into this movie like they did with Trolls World Tour. Both of those seem possible.

And as to broppy, since I know that’s (too much of) this fandom’s main concern always: 

I’ll say it plain, the “let’s get married!” part of the trailer was the most upsetting part of it for me by far. I don’t want them to get married or engaged in this movie.

And I say that as somecreature who loves broppy as a ship with my entire heart. This is just ENTIRELY too soon for marriage to seriously come up for them. They JUST got together as a romantic couple at the end of TWT. I haven’t watched much of Trollstopia but from what I have seen it didn’t seem like Trollstopia did anything with their romantic relationship, and Trolls: Holiday in Harmony dealt in them just beginning to figure out the whole being-a-couple thing. This seems like an unpopular opinion in this fandom, but I firmly believe we’d need to see a LOT more of them as a couple before marriage gets brought up. We’d need to see a lot more development of their relationship. We absolutely cannot just go from “new couple still settling into and figuring out the workings of being a couple” to “about to get married” just like that.

The only way I could see that moment in the trailers being handled well is A) if it’s actually just a one-time thing and the concept of broppy getting married never comes up again, or B) they end up discussing it and deciding One Day But Not Yet. I will hope with everything in me for one of those to happen, but I don’t have a whole lot of faith.

I won’t say that I’m definitely gonna skip this movie. I do kind of want to see if against the odds they do manage to pull off this premise and the things they want to do with it to some degree or another. And there undoubtably will be good songs and at least a few good jokes. I do think it’s possible this movie might be good. I do think it’s possible there’ll be at least some things I might love about it.

But I don’t think it’s very likely that I will love everything about it all around. And I think there’s a very solid possibility that for the most part it actually will just be straight-up dog crap. I have many, many doubts.

[bts-apocalypse-au]

Jimin's P.O.V 🐥 10th April

The halls off Asan Medical Centre are just as hot as the wards, the heat engulfs the whole building. It's amazing that a human body can reach such temperatures. That's what's heating the building, the fevered bodies of hundreds of men, women, and children. It started a week ago, people started coming in with cases of the flu, the worst symptoms I've ever seen. It's a good thing we just put all those new HYBE flu vaccines in, but I guess since we haven't managed to vaccinate everybody it wasn't enough. The heat is stifling and my face is sweating under my mask. I have to get out. I don't know where I should go but anywhere is better than here. I turn a corner quickly, then retreat back, it's my boss, talking to the hospital director.

The director places a hand on my boss's shoulder. "Yeah. Listen, you're doing a good job. Just get those vaccines out, we need to curb this before it gets bad."

My boss, Mr. Lee, frowns, "You mean worse."

"Well yes."

"Are you sure the vaccines are safe, I mean, have they even been tested at all? There are plenty of other vaccines that we know for a fact work. Surely that better than using something that's fresh out of the lab, something that hasn't even been test–"

The director shrugs and holds up a hand to stop the younger man's words, "Look, why does this have to be so hard for you? They are paying US!."

"But–" He turns, they must have sensed someone eavesdropping. I run before they can catch me. This doesn't make sense.

I hurry down the stairs until I find the exit and don't stop. Why would HYBE pay hospitals to use their products, that's only going to lose them potential profit, billions.

I stop finally out of breath, and yank off my mask inhaling the cool April air. Sighing I start walking a lap around the park's circular trail. Part of me wants to forget everything I heard, the rest of me knows that I can't. Someone bumps into me.

"Ah, Sorry." He says

"No it's alright" I say to the young man, he looks quite distressed himself. "Are you looking for some peace and quiet as well?"

"Yeah, where are you coming from?" He asks me.

I exhale "Asan Medical Centre. It's cram-fucking-packed with flu patinets today. Fevers so high you can almost feel the heat." He looks at me surprised. "I'm doing my surgical residency." I clarify, "You?"

"I'm an inte- He stops himself. "I work at Seoul News Group. You've probably never heard of it."

He's right but I'm curious. "No I haven't, but I'll check it out. What name should I look for?"

He looks confused again. "What?"

"Your name? You're a writer right?"

"Yes, my name is Kim Taehyung." He sighs.

He looks like he needs a friend right now, "So Tae, what did you come here to get away from?"

He gazes past me, as if trying to decide something. "I have to make a decision," he says carefully. "If I do it will be good for my bank account but it may not be good for me."

I'm so stressed right now that I just say the first thing I can think of. "Well just trust yourself." I try to smile, should I take my own advice?

Suddenly he breaks the silence "Hey, you're a doctor. Do you know anything about HYBE's new flu vaccine?"

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "What! How do you know about that?"

"Well I am a reporter. Have they started distributing the vaccines yet" He asks, he seems like he knows what he's talking about. I probably can't tell him anymore than he knows already. Or can I? I think of what I heard, whatever's going on, if I can't investigate it at least someone should.

"Yes" I say honestly, "and maybe just in time to curb this year's season. They started giving them out just before this whole thing got bad. The crazy thing though is that I heard the hospital director saying that instead of making the hospitals pay for the vaccines they were actually paying all hospitals who used their overs anyone else's billions of won. Buying out the market. Sketchy but I have to say that I've seen worse from big pharma."

He nods, looking grateful. "Thank you, you really have no idea how much you've helped me."

I tell him the truth again "Of course, this should be investigated. Good luck. I should probably be going now. Bye"

******************** TIME SKIP ********************

The cool breeze turned night chill –usually hated but tonight welcomed with open arms– is the greatest relief after a day in the sauna-like climate of the hospital. I'm well aware that I should probably be wearing a coat if I don't want to catch a cold. But right now, I just don't care, maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow anyway. I need a break from everything. I need to decided what to do, if anything, with what I've learned

My apartment is a welcome haven. I wash my hands and take out leftovers from the fridge. I can think about everything tomorrow, but for now, my dramas are waiting for me. Just as I've gotten comfortable a news cycle takes over the screen.

I try to click off but it won't go.

The man on screen starts to speak, he looks out of breath, "This is an emergency news broadcast, please stop what you're doing and pay attention."

I obey and turn up the volume.

"There has been a sudden surge of animal attacks and it appears that all the cities wild animals have suddenly gone rabid. We suspect that more than 100 casualties have already been sustained. Several power grids and other things like gas and water lines and water filtration systems have gone down as well. Oh and" He turns as a crew member whispers something to him, implying he doesn't have a script. "This just in officials are recommending you either get ready to stay put in your homes and or offices for a while or you leave Seoul immediately!"

The screen goes black and the lights follow. Our grid must have just gone down too.

I don't know what to do, I feel faint. Before I can stop it my knees are buckling out from under me. I feel myself hitting the floor but nothing else.

[floral-hex]

Actually… now I don’t know what to write about… uhhh… boppies

Just kinda felt like I should do an update. When was the last time I did one? A week ago? Sooo… what’s been going on?

I moved. That sucked. Packed my whole life up. Packed way too much. Sweated near constantly for a few days straight (love love love moving boxes in and out of a truck in 80-90° weather). Fell to my knees in the bathroom of my newly empty former home and cried until I couldn’t breathe. I’ve been deeply depressed. I’ve felt lost. Hopeless. Thought sincerely about ending myself during a bad morning or two. Crammed everything into a much much smaller place. Haven’t been drinking enough water because I don’t have a filter set up yet. I’ve been so grumpy and irritable these past few days, snapping at everyone, and it makes me feel so terrible. I hate being mean. I try not to be and I always regret it as soon as it happens. I feel selfish and ungrateful. I mean, at least I’m still here. I’ve still got a bed and access to food and water and, all things considered, and as much as I absolutely hate HATE this phrase, it really “could be worse.” It is what it is and it’s been terrible.

Oh, good, tumblr didn’t accidentally refresh and delete this when I minimized the app for a minute.

Anyway, I don’t know. I feel like a lot has happened, but I didn’t write it down in the moment and right now, here in bed, I just don’t care. Life is rough. I’m tired. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t really want pity or anything. I just wanted to write this down. And I did. So there.

Now me and “the boys” are in my (very much not unpacked and messy) room. I hooked up my PS4 and found a hidden box of DVDs that I’d packed away half a decade ago and found during the move, so we’re watching a season of It’s Always Sunny and hanging out. I drank a giant soda. My head hurts. Ummm… I love you? Platonically, anonymously, indiscriminately. or whatever. piss off. kisses.

i’m gonna make a long personal post in awhile, I’m not sure when, but I’ll do it as a reblog to this so if you don’t want that on your feed you can, I dunno, block this? Is that something you can do? I wouldn’t know because I love my mutuals, but whatever, maybe you hate me, you do you…. i love you 🥺

[venus-haze]

I saw you posted about doing something for cult leader Elvis a while back and I’d love to see headcanons for that if you don’t mind! If not it’s okay💗

Absolutely! It’s still a concept I’m thinking about, but I’ve been focusing on requests. The reader in this is early 20s or older and a woman, but no other specific descriptors are used. @himbocampus made these incredible moodboards inspired by the concept🖤

Cult Leader!Austin!Elvis x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes such as abuse of power, religious/ritual abuse, brainwashing, and obsessive and manipulative behavior, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Mentions of sexual content which involves coercion. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

You live in an ever-struggling small town, knowing there’s little way out for the people who live there, the people you’ve known your whole life. It’s not uncommon for all manner of crooks and snake oil salesmen to come through every few weeks, trying to con people willing to spend their spare change in exchange for hope

When Elvis Presley appears as a traveling preacher one day — charismatic and faith healing, you don’t think much of it until he and the small congregation that followed him to your town decide to set up their church there

Your parents are among the more vocal town residents who oppose his presence and forbid you from attending the church’s services or accepting the invitations of the friendly congregants to go over to their houses for dinner

Suddenly, your dying town isn’t dying anymore, as hundreds to thousands of people come from all over to hear his sermons and be healed by this man of God. Even if they don’t become members of the congregation, more and more residents embrace the church and the local economy starts to depend on him and the faith tourism he brings

After a few months, it feels like Elvis has always been there, but you still haven’t been to one of his sermons. Your friends range from awestruck to unimpressed by his charismatic style of preaching, but you want to see for yourself

It’s almost an act of rebellion when you step foot in the church for the Wednesday evening service, figuring it’d be less crowded than the ones on Sunday, where you’d seen people crammed inside of the church

The experience is frightening, if you’re honest, people shouting and collapsing, some in trance-like states as Elvis preaches and sings, his strong voice filling the room so that it feels almost suffocating

Every time you try to leave, you somehow find yourself being pushed closer to the pulpit until you shove your way through the congregation to leave when suddenly, everything stops

Elvis’ voice seems louder than ever as he calls out “Young lady, wait! The Lord has a message for you!” The crowd parts as he walks toward you, and you find yourself frozen in shock at being singled out by the handsome preacher. He reaches out, caressing your cheek before collapsing in front of you

You accompany the handful of church leaders who bring him to the local clinic, where he’s promptly diagnosed with exhaustion and simply prescribed a good night’s sleep. You can’t help but feel guilty somehow, and stay by his bedside until he awakens about an hour later. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out

He smiles, “It ain’t you, darlin’. The Lord’s still got a message for you”

What else is there to do but lean in closer, admiring his slicked black hair, bright blue eyes, and lips that almost made you jealous. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it as he says, “The vision overtook me, the Lord’s will for your life is intertwined with mine”

To your parents’ dismay, you start spending more time with Elvis and at the church, and when you are home, you’re nose-deep in a Bible, writing notes furiously in the margins. The only people you regularly talk to any more are members of the congregation, having let your other friends go to the wayside. They tell you that your aunt has agreed to take you in for a while, let you enjoy city life and a change of scenery

You lose it, screaming and cursing at them before running off toward the church. The area surrounding it has become more of a compound, as members have their houses built in close proximity, able to be in the building whenever the doors are open. Everyone knows you, they’re your true family. When you arrive with tears streaming down your face, begging to see Elvis, one of the church leaders brings you to him

His house is the biggest and nicest in the area, the whole town even, and as soon as you step inside, you’re greeted by his warm embrace and a kiss on your forehead. You frantically explain the situation to him, and he listens intently. No one understands you like he does, no one listens to you like he does, constantly telling you how special you are, set apart from everyone else—like he is. He’s silent a few moments before saying “There’s a way for us to be entwined spiritually and physically forever, in the Lord’s grace”

You immediately regret it when you respond with, “What? Like sex?” because he grimaces before giving you a harsh glare that you’d never had directed toward you before, but all of those past times you thought those people deserved it for making this man of God so angry

“No, we’re too good for something so disgusting and worldly,” he spits. “I don’t ever wanna hear you talk like that again”

You’re not really sure how what the two of you end up doing is different than sex, until he makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your life, finding yourself moaning his name over and over like a prayer

It’s fitting though, because you don’t believe in the Bible stuff as much as you believe in him, and you don’t think anyone else who comes to the church does either, so when your parents arrive the next morning, begging you to come home, you have nothing more to say to them than “I already am home”

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @kittenlittle24  @crash-and-cure @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan

[devilyn]

first priority | kageyama tobio

— alexa, play: less of you by keshi

When you come home

I just got over being less of you

When you leave me, I’m in pieces

Maybe it’s better if we cut it loose

— synopsis: how many nights will you spend in the apartment by yourself before you finally learn that your boyfriend will always value volleyball more than he values you?

— genre: angst & happy endings

— word count: 2.3k

You were used to an empty apartment. It was the cost of dating a member of Japan’s national volleyball team, someone who had to travel constantly and was usually never home. You rarely even saw his face nowadays, and when you did, it was usually when you were cramming for exams and he had to turn in early to wake up in time for practice early the next morning.

Your relationship with Kageyama was difficult after graduating high school, to say the least. Especially since the two of you were taking different paths in life.

You’d thought about it before. He was an accomplished setter on a national team, while you were just trying to pass your university’s exams. Everything you did felt insignificant in comparison to your volleyball genius boyfriend.

The emptiness of the apartment was why the two of you always tried to schedule small dates when it was possible. When Kageyama had days where he knew he’d be let out early from practice, and when you knew you could push back doing homework for a few more hours, you’d cuddle up on the couch after cooking dinner together. Or, you’d force him to take you out to an empty park and guide your stiff boyfriend into swaying to the soft music that you’d play on your phone. No matter what, the night always ended up with your giddy laughter and his rare smiles that proved just how much he loved you.

They were small moments that the two of you would share, where no one else in the world could interrupt.

But it’d been months since the last time you’d spent more than an hour with your boyfriend. You never thought of yourself as needy, but was it too much to ask to wish that he’d keep his promises?

“I’ll be home for dinner, since practice should end at six today.”

He lied. Dinner was sitting cold at the table, and all you could do was stay frozen in your chair with your gaze on the excessive amount of side dishes you’d prepared in anticipation of finally sharing a meal with your favorite person.

You must’ve been sitting in this chair for over an hour. With a quick glance of the clock, a weak smile tugged at your lips.

7:28PM.

You hadn’t checked your phone since you last texted your boyfriend at 7:13PM--

“Let’s talk when you get back.”

Empty promises. You were used to them. Last week, he swore he’d be back in time for your three year anniversary, then forgot about it when it arrived the next day. This dinner was supposed to make up for that, but you must’ve set your expectations too high again.

What would you say when he came back? It was unrealistic for you to wish to be a priority when he had his whole professional career in front of him--he had to focus 100% of his time into that. Yet, was it really unrealistic for you to ask for just 1% of that time?

According to your friends, it wasn’t. But the more you sat alone in this empty apartment, the more you wondered if you really were asking for too much of him.

“Y/N.”

You looked up in surprise, having not heard Kageyama come through the front door. Your eyes softened when you saw the guilt plaguing his typically stoic expression.

“Welcome home, Tobio,” you stood and he instinctively leaned down so you could press a kiss to his cheek. “The food is cold, but we can warm--”

“I’m sorry,” his arms circled around your waist, and you were suddenly pulled into his chest. He buried his face into your hair, his hold on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d run away.

You might’ve.

“You said that last week,” you murmured softly, arms rising to circle around his form and gently rub his back. He was scared--you could feel it in the way he trembled as he held you.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated, voice quivering.

“You said that last week too,” you laughed quietly.

He wished you’d just yell at him, or scold him with an accusatory tone like you did in the past when he first started making mistakes like these. He never had valid excuses--usually he’d just stay after in the gym to perfect his serves or practice more with other teammates. It was always volleyball that made him forget he had a significant other diligently waiting for him back at home--putting off their own responsibilities because his very rare free time was precious.

But was yours not? You had asked him that once, calmly, when he came home late again. And he had tilted his head and pointed out you had more free time than him, to which you took seconds to process before smiling bitterly.

“You’re not hungry?” you asked quietly, palms still gently running over his broad back to soothe him.

“No,” he murmured into your hair, breathing in your scent and imprinting it into his memory. If he let you go now, would you leave him?

“Liar,” you whispered nonchalantly, and he flinched. “You haven’t eaten since lunch, right? It’s late, let’s eat.”

“Don’t want to.”

“You’re acting like a child, Tobio,” you sighed, pulling your head back slightly so you could meet his sharp blue eyes, filled with regret. “If you’re not hungry, I am, so let’s eat.”

You paused, before reaching up to gently hold his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, and he leaned into your touch.

“...you can’t avoid this forever, you know,” you told him softly, and his brows furrowed as he closed his eyes.

“...alright,” his voice sounded pained as he pulled away to sit across from the chair you’d sat in for over an hour. 

You popped the dishes into the microwave quickly, setting them in front of him one by one before sliding a bowl of rice in his direction. He usually loved your cooking, but now he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to swallow a bite of it with the knowledge that this may be the last meal the two of you share together.

The apartment was silent, save for the beeping of the microwave. Kageyama stared longingly at your back, watching the way you leaned against the counter and brushed your hair behind your ear while waiting for the microwave timer to go off.

When was the last time he actually looked at you? His many trips abroad, his lack of acknowledgement of your own accomplishments and struggles, his stupid passion for volleyball, it had all ruined your relationship.

He could only hope that you would forgive him, one more time.

You slid back into the seat across from his and settled in. He was anxious. You could tell by the way he couldn’t look you in the eye, chopsticks picking at his rice as he waited for you to speak first. His tall figure stiffened at the sound of your sigh.

“Might not taste good now since it’s not as fresh, but,” you pushed a few dishes his way with a sad smile. “I worked hard to prepare dinner, could you try it?”

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. What was he doing while you were excitedly making dinner for him? He never thought of you during practice--not once, even though he knew how much he loved you. He hated that about himself.

He lifted the food to his lips and let his vision cloud over with guilt as he chewed and swallowed.

“...It’s delicious,” he murmured weakly as your smile grew slightly.

“...I’m glad,” is all you managed to muster before digging into the meal you prepared for the two of you.

“I don’t have the right to ask for forgiveness again,” he said quickly, slim fingers gripping his chopsticks tight enough to turn them white. “But I still don’t want you to leave.”

You were quiet, stiffly bringing pieces of rice to your lips and forcing yourself to chew. Every action was methodical, as if you were merely acting out actions that you knew you would normally perform if your heart wasn’t breaking into tiny bits and pieces.

“...I love you, Tobio,” you whispered quietly. “So much. I still do. More than anything. But it hurts me more because I love you so much.”

He dropped his utensils and reached across the table to grab your hands. You flinched away and he cursed, bringing his hands back to his sides before running them through his hair in frustration.

“What can I do,” he asked weakly, voice shaking, “to keep you with me?”

“I don’t know anymore,” you tried to force another smile, but your lower lip quivered and the tears you held back on lonely nights started to drip down your cheeks. 

“Please,” he stood, the sound of his chair skidding back against the floors barely registered in your ears as he hurried to kneel by your side. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you ever say,” you cried loudly, tone finally accusatory as he’d initially wished. He took your hands into his shaking ones, watching as your tears stained the pale skin of his knuckles. “You never know what you’re apologizing for, but you always, always just say sorry as if that will make any of this any better.”

“You need to tell me--” he tried to reason.

“I’ve told you!” you ripped your hands away from his almost violently, ignoring the way the hurt in his blue eyes caused your already broken heart to sting in pain. “I’ve told you how much you coming home late hurts, how I hate when you promise that you’ll be home and then break those promises the same day, how you thinking your time is more important than mine makes me feel insignificant--”

You cut yourself off with a weak sob, bringing your hands up to hide your face in your palms.

“But you never listen! You never learn. Volleyball will always be more important than me, and I can’t find it in myself to blame you for that,” you wailed as you rubbed the back of your knuckles against your eyes to try and stop the tears from flowing, “What am I supposed to do now, Tobio? How do I leave you when I love you so much?”

You felt warm arms wrap you into a familiar embrace, and your tears soaked into your boyfriend’s athletic jacket.

“You deserve better,” he told you minutes later, after your sobs had calmed down. His palm continued to gently draw circles against your lower back--an action that he knew would soothe you. “You deserve so much better than me. You know I’m bad with words, I’m inconsiderate, I suck at putting others before me, and I’m stupid.”

You laughed tearfully.

“You do so much for me,” he murmured, and your eyes fluttered closed. “You explain to me how you feel so I can try and be better, you deal with my bluntness and verbalize how much it hurts you, you tell me when I’m acting better than everyone else and humble me, and you even used to come with me when I had to attend supplemental classes in high school.”

“You really were stupid,” you commented, and he laughed weakly.

“And you loved me, through all of that,” he lamented.

“Mm,” you sighed quietly. “Yeah. I loved you.”

“And I love you,” he responded, a bit shy to be confessing it despite your long relationship. “So give me one more chance to prove that I’ve changed for the better because of you.”

He pulled back to cup your cheeks, bringing your teary gaze up to his and brushing his thumbs over the redness under your eyes. His heart hurt. He hated making you cry, and he hated himself for making you cry this much over him.

“...one more chance,” you mumbled, turning your head to kiss his palm. His brows furrowed, and tears pricked at his eyes.

Quickly, he brought his forearm to cover his wet irises from your sight. You laughed quietly, hands reaching up to try and pull his arm away.

“Are you crying because of me, Tobio? Did I manage to make the king of the court cry?” you teased with a weak smile.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, cheeks reddening as he turned to look away from you. “You know I hate it when you call me that dumb nickname.”

“And I made the king kneel in front of me too? I should repent,” you giggled, taking his free hands into your own. 

You nearly choked on your laughter when your boyfriend suddenly dipped down to pick you up into his arms. Your arms wrapped hurriedly around his neck as you turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“Tobio--!”

“I’m making use of my last chance, and I’m going to start making it up to you now,” he told you firmly, carrying you into your room and placing you onto your shared bed.

“Our dinner,” you grumbled with a pout. “I worked hard to make that…”

“And I’ll eat it tomorrow,” he caged you in his arms, hovering above you with a soft look in his sharp azure eyes. Your gaze fluttered up to his handsome face, and you grinned as a hand rose up to gently cup his cheek. He tilted his head to press a kiss to your wrist. “Can I prove to you how sorry I am?”

You laughed softly as he trailed kisses up your arm to your neck, then finally pressing his lips to yours lovingly.

“Don’t take advantage of your last chance,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his as he pressed feather-like pecks to your lips.

“I’d be even more of an idiot if I did.”

[dollslayer]

Charity Case

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: You loathe Bucky Barnes and his cocky attitude but you find yourself doing him a favor. Is he really as insufferable as he seems?

W/C: 3,830

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, uhhh kissing, that's it!

A/N: Here it is! My entry for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k challenge!! My quote was "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (in bold). I love the Heathers so I'm excited!! Hopefully I did this prompt justice. As always, if you liked it please reblog/comment! Cheers! I do not consent to my work being reposted/translated on any platform.

Main Masterlist

____

Steve was running late again. You try not to chew your nails off in frustration but he’s definitely testing you. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’s late to meet you. When he hasn’t been late he’s cancelled all together. Always with a half-ass apology of ‘Bucky needs me’. As if.

You’ve been friends with Steve since your freshman year creative writing class when the only open seat was next to him. Ever since that first day you two had been close. But not as close as him and Bucky. Childhood friends attending university together, thicker than thieves.

You always felt like Bucky was maybe a little jealous of the friendship you and Steve have. Maybe you’re a little jealous too but you’re almost positive Bucky is more jealous of you than you are of him but that’s beside the point. On top of his jealousy Bucky was just annoying. He had a girlfriend but he was always flirting with every girl he met, yourself included. Not to mention he was cocky as all hell.

Steve vouches for his character, swears that it’s all an act and he’s actually very sensitive underneath but you don’t buy it for a second. If you were his girlfriend you’d have dumped him a long time ago.

You don’t have time to dwell on your annoyance too much because Steve is rushing through the doors of the coffee shop. He looks around for you and when he finally finds you the look on his face is relieved. As he gets closer it’s clear that he’d been running to get to you in time. He’s sweaty and a little out of breath and if you weren’t so annoyed with him you’d have found it endearing that he ran here.

“There you are,” he huffs out, “I’m so sorry, I was with Bucky and I lost track of time.”

You purse your lips and hand him a napkin which he takes with a gracious nod before wiping the sweat from his brow. You hand him the iced coffee you’d ordered for him too. The ice is slightly melted from sitting there but he looks so refreshed to be drinking it.

“Figures” is all you say with a huff. If he hadn’t been doing it so often you would’ve been a little kinder about it but you were just irked.

“Seriously, I’m sorry. Nat just dumped him, he's been having a hard time” Steve explained.

“Is it because he flirts with anything that moves?” You scoff.

Steve scoffs in return “He does not! He’s just… outgoing. But no, they had their own problems.” You raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay the flirting had something to do with it but there’s a lot going on there.”

“Whatever, let’s just study for this exam while we can”.

____

You and Steve spent the next two hours cramming for your midterm together. Things were going well and you’d nearly forgotten that you were mad at Steve in the first place. Nearly.

You were so deep into your notecards that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. A voice that could grate on only your nerves. A voice that if it didn’t belong to such a bastard, might even be kinda sexy. The voice breaks your focus completely when it calls out.

“Hey, Steve, are you done already or what? Oh hey, what’s up, beautiful?”

You set your notecards down on the table maybe a little harder than you should. You shoot Steve a glare because you thought it would just be the two of you. Really? You cut in before Steve can answer his friend.

“No, Bucky, he’s not. Can we help you?”

He smirks, giving you his full attention. He knows he has you now, knows you took the bait and he’s goaded you to the point of backtalk. He pulls up a chair to the table and wedges himself tightly between you and Steve. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor as he scoots closer to you rings in your ears and makes you cringe. You look at Steve again only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“Well, sweetheart, me and Stevie boy here have plans later. Gonna do some gaming and order a pizza, really embracing the bachelor lifestyle.” He raised his eyebrows at this and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I heard Nat dumped your ass, actually, is that true?” You asked with a fake sweetness.

“Why, you interested?” He rebuffed.

You bristled at his quick response and muttered your annoyance under your breath. You chose not to respond. Instead you decided to address Steve.

“Steve, I didn’t realize that you had plans”

“Oh… yeah, loose plans…” He answered distractedly while pretending to be reading a text on his phone.

You decide to call it a day. You were getting seriously fed up with Steve’s passive behavior in all of this. Thankfully you didn’t have much to pack up, so once you slung your backpack over your shoulder you looked up at the pair to bid them goodnight.

“Well, Steve, this was… enlightening. Bucky, eat it. Goodnight fellas, have fun with your ‘bachelor lifestyle’” You said with air quotes. Turning on your heel you left before either could respond.

____

You had left the coffee shop that evening pretty upset with Steve. Of course it’s fine for him to have other friends but lately it was like he only cared about Bucky and all of your plans took a backseat to theirs. You decided you weren’t going to be the one to text Steve first, since he was being a bad friend. He could be the one to initiate plans.

He did just that when he caught you in the hallway after your midterm a week later. He jogged up to you once again and tugged on your sleeve to get you to stop.

“Hey, how do you think you did? Bet those notecards paid off, right?” He half-joked. He looked sheepish. Nervous almost. You figured it was because of what happened last time you met.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ! I’ve never been so grateful for little pieces of paper.” You scoffed. You decided to keep it light between you. You were still upset with him but his tone leads you to believe he was gonna apologize.

“Right?” He laughs nervously, “So listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately… Maybe we could get something to eat at Nick’s?”

Nick’s was the local greasy spoon on campus and they had the best breakfast food you’d ever had. You eyed him suspiciously but accepted.

“Alright, but you’re buying. And there better not be any visitors!” You add as you bound down the hall ahead of him. He knows you mean Bucky and he’s not worried because Bucky won’t be showing up today. He’s more nervous about what he has to ask you.

____

You’re sipping on pop as you play with your straw wrapper. You look up at Steve and notice he’s fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What’s up? Why are you so twitchy?” You question him.

“Me? I’m not twitchy! I was just thinking that’s all” He quickly defends himself.

“Well that was the last midterm of the semester for both of us, I think it’s safe to say you can relax.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Steve concedes quietly.

You and Steve eat in near silence, neither of you mind though because it’s comfortable. You worked on your hashbrowns when you looked up and noticed that Steve had barely touched his food. He was still fidgety, he looked nervous.

“Hey, you’ve hardly eaten anything, what’s the matter?”

He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught. Or like he’s about to come clean about something.

“Look, I wanted to say sorry I know I haven’t been the best friend lately with everything going on with Bucky. He really is having a hard time since the breakup y’know… he’s lonely”

“Right” You laughed, “I’m sure he’s soo lonely.” You rolled your eyes and picked up your fork.

“No really, he just needed a friend to be there. I think he does need to get back out there though.”

“With how smooth he thinks he is, I'm sure he’ll have a date by the end of the night. I wouldn’t worry about it, Stevie.” You responded.

“I’m serious! As much of a player as he comes off he needs to be with someone he already knows. He’s actually really sensitive.” You interrupted with another laugh. There were many choice words you’d use to describe Bucky Barnes but ‘sensitive’ is not one of them.

“But anyway, I was...kinda hoping you’d do me a favor…” Steve trails off.

Based on the conversation you just had you’re cautious. You eye him warily but motion for him to continue.

“Well, like I said Buck’s having a hard time and he needs to get back out there but he doesn’t feel comfortable hooking up with a stranger. I was thinking maybe.. You guys should hang out?”

Steve refused to look at you as he finished the question. The look on your face was a look of confusion and shock.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?” you asked in disbelief. “I mean seriously, I’m nice but not that nice.”

“Look-”

“No!” You cut him off, “You know I can’t stand that prick. Also why would I want to put myself on the long list of women he’s probably tried to fuck? I don’t buy this whole ‘sensitive’ thing for a minute.”

“I’m serious, Nat kinda crushed his heart when she left. He acts cocky but it’s a front. I just think he needs to see someone to get it out of his system. You’ve got more in common than you think. Just hang out with him once. Don’t think of it like a date, just a really really big favor. Please?” Steve begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You. Owe. Me. So. Much”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Really. But I’m not gonna bang him. Hard no on that” you said.

“Yeah, yeah of course! No problem! I’ll give Bucky your number!” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand. His hands were kidna clammy but you let him.

“Seriously, thank you. I know you think he’s some jerk but I promise he’s a good guy.” Steve adds, “A-and don’t think of it as like a date, even, y'know? I think honestly he could just use another friend. Think of how good it could be if we could all hang together some time?”

You shook your head and chuckled at his optimism while you stabbed another bite of your meal.

____

‘What’s up, sweetface?’ Gross.

‘Okay, sorry. Hi, how are you?’ Better.

‘I’m alright, you?’

‘Good. Steve tells me you’re a huge trivia nerd. Wanna go to Sally’s tn?’

‘It’s a date’ Shit. Didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. Quick- say something that will deflect before he responds!

‘And since it’s a date you’re paying’ That’ll have to do.

‘Ugh fine. Here’s hoping you’re a cheap date at least. I’ll meet you there at 9’

____

What do you wear for a date with someone that you despise? It’s just bar trivia so it’s nothing special but somehow the jeans and flannel you’ve been wearing all day don’t feel like they make the cut. You rip your closet apart trying to find something before you settle on black skinny jeans and your favorite sweater with some boots. Casual but not too casual.

You spend the whole walk there dreading the night ahead of you. Knowing that you wouldn’t even have Steve as a buffer between you made the whole evening seem daunting. At least you had trivia to distract you. You decide to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt tonight for Steve’s sake. You try to remember Steve’s insistence that Bucky’s a good guy and you have a lot in common. We’ll see about that.

When you arrive at the bar you find Bucky already waiting for you at a high-top table with two PBRs and a shot of brown liquid. Please don’t let that be whiskey. He sees you coming and smiles that damn-his-good-looks smile at you while patting the open chair next to him. The closer you get you even see that he got the whiteboard already for trivia.

“Please tell me that’s not Jameson or Fireball” you greet him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Better - it’s Jack. Sorry, doll, but I already opened the tab. This is what we’re drinking” He nudges one of the shots closer to you and motions for you to pick it up. “Come on, we gotta start the night off right, bottoms up!”

Before you can gag at the thought of drinking whiskey you grab the glass and face him. You both knock your shots on the table before clinking them together and swallowing them in one go. You grimace at the taste and feel the warmth flow all the way down your throat. You quickly take a sip of your beer to rid yourself of the taste.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re grossed out.” Bucky coos at you.

You’re embarrassed and annoyed but it goes away quickly.

“Shut up, Barnes”

You give him a light shove and he pretends like he’s about to fall off his stool, making you laugh. For someone that’s only ever annoyed you he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of being likeable when it’s just the two of you.

“You ready for me to carry you through some trivia?” You joked.

“Hey, now! I know...stuff” he concluded.

“Mmhmmm, I’m sure you do. Don’t worry, I’ll answer the questions and you just sit there and look pretty” you reach over to pat his face lightly with a wink.

Bucky grumbles before taking another sip of his beer.

You settle in for a long night when the host announces the first round is starting.

____

You managed to steal the first round without breaking a sweat, second round was a little rocky until it came down to you and one other couple. You knew the third round would be tricky but the way Bucky was cheering you on you were determined. To no one’s surprise Bucky had been completely useless so far but to his credit he was trying. At least he was a supportive teammate.

Things were going well until the third round was announced: Old School Videogames. You didn’t know shit about old school videogames. Or regular videogames. The extent of your video game knowledge started and ended with Mario Kart.

When the third round was announced though Bucky hit the table in excitement and cheered.

“Woo! Fuck yeah!” He pats you on the shoulder, “I got this, don’t worry. I so fuckin’ got this!”

He was a few drinks deep but he was so confident and he was your only hope so you went with it. He looked like a little kid the way he was practically giddy.

“You had better! There’s some serious prize money riding on this round.” You said in warning.

“No, no. You don’t understand that I’ve GOT this. Your turn to look pretty, not that it’s gonna be all that hard for you, sweetface” Bucky grinned at you over his beer as he took another sip.

Your cheeks felt heated and you tried your best to hide it by taking another drink yourself. Bucky’s flirting has never worked until now. Must be the alcohol.

“Shut up, Barnes” you mumble.

“Y’keep saying that but what I really think you mean is ‘I love you, Bucky you’re so strong and handsome~’” He imitated in a high pitched feminine voice.

You shoved him for real and before you could say anything else the third round was starting.

____

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he had this. He had won the round in a clean sweep and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Who knew this man harbored so much videogame trivia? When the host handed you the prize money he just waggled his eyebrows as if to say See?

“I gotta hand it to you, Barnes, I had no idea you had that much videgame wisdom rolling around up there. The only videogame I ever play is Mariokart so I’d be toast without you.”

“Mariokart? That’s it?? No problem, doll. It was nice to contribute.” He chuckles at that.

You divvied the money up and handed him his half.

“Guess I’m not such a cheap date afterall, huh?”

He chuckled as he took his half from you.

“I’m gonna go pay the tab with our winnings, I’ll be back”

You picked up your phone while you waited for him to find some missed texts from Steve.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘Are you guys doing okay?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything so I’m assuming you haven’t killed each other. Have fun, text if you need a ride home.’

You almost rolled your eyes at Steve’s insistence but found yourself smiling instead. You’d text him back when you got home.

Bucky was walking up to you once more and you smiled at him slightly.

“You said you’re good at Mariokart?”

“I didn’t say I was good at Mariokart, I said that I played it. Why?”

“Well I was thinkin’ maybe we could go back to mine and I could whoop your butt”

You weren’t going to say yes but now he was goading you and you took the bait without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re on, Barnes. You’re so, so on.”

His smile grew wider when he heard your response. With that he placed his hand on your lower back and ushered you out of the bar.

____

You played two tournament cups worth of Mariokart and Bucky had indeed whooped your butt. You don’t know why you were surprised, with how much gaming he and Steve do it’s no surprise he’s a natural. You still had fun though. Just when you were about to propose a third round Bucky got up and headed to the kitchen without a word.

He came back with two glasses of water and handed you one. He sat down on the floor next to you and you set down your controller.

“Here, drink up.”

You were taken aback a bit by the kind gesture but accepted the glass just the same.

“Thank you, I might regret saying this but, you’re not so bad when you’re not being insufferable, Barnes”. You told him

He smiled and shook his head as he drank his water.

“Thanks, I guess”

“How come you can’t be like this all the time? When it’s just the two of us you’re so kind and you’re even… I don’t know, funny maybe. Why do you get all cocky whenever else I see you?”

He looked down into his glass at your comment and you watched his brows crease in thought.

“I don’t know, it just sort of… happens, whenever I’m around other people I don’t know that well. I don’t mean to be a dick or anything but it’s like I can’t help myself. People expect me to be a certain way and I can’t help but fall into it sometimes. Nat hated that about me, it’s part of the reason why she dumped me, actually”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry about the breakup, too. I know you guys were together for a while.” Bucky only shrugged at this and downed the rest of his water.

“It is what it is. I’m ready to be over it, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I gotta say, you’re not so bad either when you’re not getting all defensive and in my face. You’re actually pretty funny”

Your turn to become flustered at a personal analysis.

“Thanks, I guess I don’t mean to be so defensive either, it's just my response to most other people. I feel myself slip into it and it can’t be helped.” You explained.

Bucky nods at you, not knowing entirely what to say in response.

“I like spending time with you” He says leaning closer to you.

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of what you feel knowing his face is so close to yours.

“I… like spending time with you too. You’re not what I thought.”

“Me neither,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

With that he leans his head closer to yours and you feel yourself close your eyes and move your lips to slant perfectly into his. You’re kissing Bucky Barnes. The Bucky Barnes you can’t stand. That Bucky Barnes. You’ve decided that his tongue feels too good in your mouth to care now.

His hands come to frame your face and bring you in closer. His hands are warm and calloused but they feel like comfort. You can’t help but to melt. You moan into his mouth and it seems to spur him on. He pulls you into his lap and you let out a noise of surprise that’s muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your hands come to caress his sides and you take your time feeling every muscle and ridge. Your hands idly make their way under the hem of his shirt and his skin is just as smooth as you’d expect. He sighs into your mouth and it takes all of your strength not to fall apart right there. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and have to pull away for air. When you do you rest your forehead against his and the only sound is both of your breathing.

You finally brave a look at him and he has the softest smile on his lips.

“Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to get so carried away but I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.”

This catches you off guard.

“You have? Wait, did you like me? But you flirt with everyone!” You explain.

“With you, I flirt with you. You just can’t stand me” he laughs out, “Nat dumped me for a couple reasons but that’s one of them she told me I needed to get my priorities straight and I gotta say, I’m thankin’ her for sayin’ it ‘cause she was right.”

You don’t know what to say or what to make of any of this. All you know is that you want to kiss him again, so you do. You grab him by the collar and pull him into you again. He lets out a startled noise but kisses you back all the same.

You don’t care what you used to think of Bucky Barnes and you don’t care about what’ll happen after today. Right now all you care about is feeling him in sync with you for the first time. You could live in this moment forever but right now will have to do.

[haechanhues]

Like Unrequited

Part ONE | Part TWO | Part THREE | Part FOUR

pairing : heeseung x fem!reader / sunghoon x fem!reader 

genre : angst/fluff. bulleted. 

warnings : unrequited crush. slight feelings of awkwardness and abandonment. ambiguous relationship though - especially towards the end. 

summary : how to confess to someone who doesn’t feel the same. 

‘I like you, Heeseung’ 

All you could see was his eyes 

How they enlarged at the words you just spluttered 

He hesitated 

And at that the world seemed to rush down your throat and rob you of the air in your lungs 

Uh. 

But still the hope in your stomach flickered like a small fire 

A small pathetic little fire 

‘I-I….I don’t see you in that way Y/N...I’m sorry.’ 

Heeseung didn’t smile as he said that 

But he squeezed at your shoulder to anchor you down to the reality of it all 

You liked Heeseung 

And he didn’t like you back 

All those teenage movies you watched in an attempt to motivate you seemed to laugh at you

All those beautiful actresses and all those beautiful actors planting the seed of false hope in the victims of love unrequited 

‘That’s okay?’ 

You smiled. 

I’m sure you’ve never seen yourself wear the most bullshit smile you’ve ever bullshitted 

Heeseung smacked his lips together and warmly smiled at you 

‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?’

Uh. 

‘..Maybe. I might just, uh- hang out in the library for a while.’ 

He grimaced at that

He didn’t want to make you feel as if you weren’t friends 

He didn’t want to say ‘friends tho, right?’ as some sort of compensation for your feelings he didn’t share 

He felt for you 

He loved you (in a way that was only platonic) 

And yet- 

‘Okay.’ 

The next day Heeseung had waved at you whilst flanked by the other boys and Ryujin at his side 

Jungwon hugged you and asked if you were coming to lunch 

‘Nope,’ 

‘BOOO,’  Niki shouted in Sunoo’s ear 

‘What about tomorrow then? I’ve still got that post I want you to see in person’ Jay whined. 

‘I dunno I’ll let you know though.’ 

Ryujin squeezed your hand as she followed you down the hallway away from the boys 

‘How was it?’ Ryujin bit her lip with her sympathetic eyes 

You shook your head 

‘Imma need time. I think.’ 

‘Okay. Don’t be a stranger.’ 

Ryujin smiled and hugged you tightly, ‘It’s just one guy, my buddy.’ 

‘A guy I just happen to like and who’s kind and who I used to gush about for hours on end and-’ 

‘I was trying to lighten the mood, but my bad,’ Ryujin chuckled a little before letting you go 

‘Mhmm’ 

With a final goodbye you dawdled to the library with your assignments and errands listed in your head for you to do 

You took a seat and dug through your bag for your books and pencil case filled with pens and highlighters and got to working 

You spent what felt like hours in the library, filling in gaps and writing down notes that you’ve been holding off for what felt like weeks 

You sighed as you flicked out your wrist in an attempt to dissipate your pen cramp 

That’s when the antics of two boys called your attention 

They whispered heatedly between the two of them as they fussed over their written notes and their bags 

‘Out of all days, you’re cramming now?’ 

‘I didn’t know it was due today and you didn’t either!’ 

‘You don’t even have a pen-’ 

You giggled to yourself and that had the boys look over to you sheepishly

‘Hey,’ 

‘Can I borrow a pen?’ 

You grinned and nodded, pulling out a pen of your pencil case 

‘Oh my god. Why aren’t you this helpful?’ 

‘Fuck you.’ 

After awhile as they had written down all their points and you had gone back to your work, giggling a little at their quips 

‘Here’s your pen. Thanks, really.’ 

‘No worries...what test is it for?’ 

‘This science research test. I’m not prepared for it, obviously. But Jake is.’ 

Sunghoon had explained, cocking his head toward Jake 

Jake giggled in reply 

‘In that case, you may as well keep the pen.’ 

Sunghoon grinned 

‘Thank you. Do you want the pen back?’ 

‘I’m not sure about today.. but that could change.’ 

Meanwhile in the background, Jake smirked at your little exchange, preparing to tell all his and Sunghoon’s friends about his little conversation with a pretty girl in the library

The next few days were spent with Sunghoon and Jake

They had an assignment due that next Wednesday 

You had your errands 

But as the hours and the days flew by, the time spent actually working on your studies depleted and they were spent getting to know each other 

They both gave your their number and you gave yours 

You started making plans for after school and weekends 

Ryujin wanted you to come to a party with her on Saturday (the boys were going to be there too and Sunoo was missing you) 

But you had plans (with Sunghoon) 

You started missing phone calls from your friends because you were busy spending time with Sunghoon. 

You told Sunghoon and Jake all about your attempt at confessing and that had set Jake off on a tangent about how stupid the guy was and Sunghoon had opted to hold your hand

Your library hangouts had turned into ‘hangouts’ and extended outside of the library 

And one day you were with Sunghoon and Jake on the lunch table, smiling at their antics and their whatever-the-fuck-they-were-doing 

‘Y/N!’ 

You turned towards the voice, Sunghoon and Jake following you too 

Sunoo reached towards you and hugged you 

‘Feel like I never see you, like ever.’

‘I miss you.’ 

‘Me too,’ You smile. 

You looked over at Heeseung and your smile failed a little bit at the way he held a girl’s hand in his 

‘Hey,’ He smiled, feeling a little awkward at the revelation of his new girlfriend/friend/fling? 

Truthfully he didn’t know who she was 

But he wanted to find out 

He was also confused at the new friends of yours

Jungwon walked over to you, looking at Sunghoon confusedly, ‘I didn’t know you knew Y/N.’ 

‘Surprise’ 

Sunghoon watched as you struggled to gain the confidence to introduce them to your other friends 

He reached over and grabbed your hand in his, offering a small smile ‘I’m Sunghoon’ 

‘Jake’ 

‘I haven’t seen you in awhile my girl,’ Ryujin said, toe tapping your ankle

‘Sorry, I’ve been with these two this whole time. Super busy.’ 

Everyone frowns at your short sentence and your sudden uncomfortableness with the whole group in front of you, your easygoingness replaced with something that felt foreign to them

That didn’t really change throughout the week 

The only one that really got the same response from you was Sunoo and even that was tampered with 

You smiled in front of Sunghoon and Jake like you’re usual 

Jungwon, Heeseung, Niki, Jay and Ryujin could only look on as you seemed to distance yourself from them all 

Jay still had that one post he had to show you but when he had shown it too 

You had pursed your lips in reply and looked at Jake with a secretive smile that you used to use with him 

But you smiled at Jay and hugged him goodbye 

They weren’t happy (meaning Heeseung and pals) 

You did miss your friends 

But- 

You were happy with Sunghoon and Jake. 

Very happy. 

Heeseung sighed at the way you branched off with your new friends, leaving him and Ryujin in the dust 

‘Okay, I can’t fucking do this anymore,’ 

Ryujin swore and turned towards him

‘You need to fucking say something. Because I’m sick and tired of being ignored by my best fucking friend in exchange for two boys. Two hot boys, but still boys nonetheless.’ 

Heeseung sighed at that 

He did, didn’t he

So with a bated breath, he approached you when you were alone 

No Sunghoon or Jake 

Just you 

He loomed over you as he attempted to find the words to say 

‘Hey’ 

‘Hey’ 

How are you?’ 

‘Good. You?’ 

‘I’m good.’ 

You nodded and looked over his shoulder in an attempt to find your friends 

‘Y/N. Listen.’ 

Heeseung pleaded and he looked so desperate you couldn’t help but stare at him 

‘I like you as my friend so please just keep being my friend.’ 

‘I am. I am, I just want space and I want time to be able to treat you like a pal and not the guy I like, Heeseung.’ 

‘That doesn’t explain why you’re ignoring the whole group.’ 

‘I’m not.’ 

‘You are! Sunoo misses you like fucking crazy and you are actually separated from Ryujin. That doesn’t feel normal.’ 

‘But I like being around the boys,’ 

‘SO LET THEM JOIN US. You don’t even have to look at me or speak to me, if you’re going to be my friend, please for the love of everything cheesy, we’re your friends too. Jay has even started sulking and you know he doesn’t hold grudges.’ 

You sighed

‘You’re right.’ 

‘I’m always right.’ 

‘I’ll let Sunghoon and Jake know then.’

‘Yes. Do that.’

So that lunch time, after attempting to persuade Jake who was more than happy to greet friends of yours and Sunghoon who was unhappy with Heeseung still 

Sunghoon looked at you softly and then looked at Heeseung in a way that wasn’t the most friendly 

‘Hey guys. This is Sunghoon and Jake.’ 

Jake waved and Sunghoon nodded, linking his fingers with yours 

You turned towards him with a small smile 

‘Uhhh- I was hoping we could all-join?’ 

They all couldn’t have been faster to nod or make room for you, welcoming you back with open arms and eager hearts. 

author’s note : fun fact but it’s not really over. 

[redrobin-detective]

sleep like the dead

“And now, I, Technus, shall finally have my electronic vengeance on you, ghost child and conquer this puny human world!” Technus shrieked, exiting the portal in a suitably dramatic fashion. The various weapons around the lab shook and trembled from his power and static from his core crackled, raring for a fight with his favorite enemy. Only the Phantom didn’t appear.

“Hmm, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” Technus mused before starting up again. “Pathetic Phantom! You can only hope your miniscule half human strength will be enough to take on my squiggling mess of the tangled wires of terror!” He threw back his head and cackled loudly, waiting for his nemesis to show and the battle to begin. His laughter petered out after a bit and the lab became silent once more.

“Well, now he’s just being rude,” Technus fumed, floating up through the ceiling. “Don’t ignore my threats, child. I know you’re here, I can feel your cold core.” He stopped once he reached the ghost boy’s human lair, hovering a few feet from the bed where his rival was sprawled out, sound asleep.

“Come ghost boy, it’s time for fisticuffs! I have some new moves and some great catchphrases I’m ready to try out on you!” The technology ghost exclaimed in excitement, miming some punches. Phantom didn’t answer, just kept laying there barely moving save for his soft, shallow breaths. Technus watched as his breath fogged with each exhale, his core’s ghost sense but it still didn’t awaken him. “Child? Have you expired?”

He leaned forward and gently poked the boy’s cheek. It was squishy but firm unlike a ghost’s exterior and he could feel the dense bone underneath. Phantom didn’t so much as twitch. Technus drew back his hand, unsure of what to do. He’d surprised the child while he was in bed before but he always woke up and they fell into the usual routine. But now he’d changed the script and if there was something ghosts didn’t like, it was change. He flew back down to the portal and sped into the Ghost Zone at top speed, searching for someone who would be able to help him understand. 

“Wow, baby pop whooped your butt that fast? Either he’s getting better or you’re getting more pathetic, my bet is the latter,” Ember teased as she strummed to herself from a floating rock near her lair.

“The ghost child won’t wake up and fight,” Technus said in a rush. “I went to the human world but no one answered my challenge. I went to his human lair and he was just lying on his bed thing and he wouldn’t move, even when I touched him.”

“That’s not like him, he’s usually more hopped up and ready to fight than a groupie on coke,” Ember frowned, setting aside her guitar. “Well come on, sparky, lets go check the kid out.” 

They developed something of an entourage making their way back to the human portal. A few of the locals had heard that the infamous half ghost child was behaving differently and well, curiosity didn’t stop when the cat was killed. Skulker chuckled menacingly under his breath, Youngblood bounced around the adults. Johnny and Kitty had been going to the real world anyway and decided to tag along. 

“Were his folks or Jazz home?" Johnny asked, riding his cycle slow enough to keep pace with the group. 

“Who?” Technus questioned, “er no, the annoying children always with him were not around for once.”

“Annoying yes but they don’t live- uh occupy the same lair as the brat,” Johnny explained. As a younger ghost who’d held onto his humanity more than some, he had a better grasp of human culture. “His parents, the crazy ghost hunters in the blue and orange jumpsuits. Or his sister, Jazz. She has red hair and is kind of a know it all. They’re his family, they live with him.”

“Oh those weirdos,” Youngblood said wrinkling his nose. “Always loud and shouting about ripping apart ghosts. They’re not even good hunters.”

“Obviously, they haven’t noticed they got a ghost living with ‘em,” Ember added with an eyeroll.

“It’s a very stressful situation, Danny was worried about what they’d do if they found out,” Kitty frowned before sticking her tongue out at Johnny. “Danny’s a good guy, at least he talked to me about things that mattered.”

“Good target practice, you mean,” Skulker declared as they entered through the portal. Instinctively they all looked up to where the ghost boy’s core was humming but sensed no movement. “Alright, I will admit that is weird. Let’s see what the whelp’s up to.”

It was a bit cramped, the five of them crammed into the small room especially when they were keeping their distance from the room’s only living occupant. He had not moved since Technus had last been in here. At their entrance, his breath fogged again and he shivered for a second before settling back down. 

“Well, he’s alive at least,” Johnny shrugged before leaning in close to examine him. “Kid looks wiped though.” He picked up the boy’s bony wrist which had been dangling off the bed, his fingers brushing the floor and held it up before dropping it. His knuckles rapped against the ground but he didn’t stir.

“Johnny, leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep,” Kitty hissed, yanking her boyfriend back by his ear. 

“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad,” Johnny defended. “But, come on, how often are we gonna get a chance like this?”

“Hmm is human sleep that interesting that the ghost child would ignore all of us?” Technus asked, floating over and laying himself down on the bed. He laid there on the bed next to the boy for a few moments. “I do not believe I’m doing this correctly.”

“Nah you gotta close your eyes and go off to dreamland,” Youngblood said, grabbing a sock off the floor and then some papers from the desk and began stacking them on the half ghost’s head. The boy still didn’t react in the slightest. 

“Is dreamland close? Another pocket dimension like the Zone?” Technus, ever the scientist, asked curiously.

“No, you idiot,” Ember sighed before tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Phantom’s chest. “Yow, man that’s weird.”

“What?” Skulker asked, having been mostly content to watch until now. Youngblood had now piled several more items on the ghost boy’s head but he slept on, unawares.

“It’s just,” she scrunched up her face as she looked for the words, “I know what ghost cores feel like and I’ve been around enough humans to know the signs of life but he’s got both at once. His core flares and fades opposite his heart beat. It shouldn’t work but it does, somehow.”

“He is a most curious specimen, I rarely see Plasmius in his human skin so it’s hard to compare,” Skulker commented. “Of course Plasmius I can understand. He acts like a ghost, thinks like one. But the child, he’s certainly a ghost but he’s also decidingly... human.”

“That’s why we should be leaving him alone,” Kitty frowned, plucking Youngblood out of the air and moving him away from the sleeping teen. “If Danny isn’t waking up with all of us causing a racket then clearly he’s exhausted. We bother him enough, let him rest and fight him some other time.”

“But I wanted to fight now,” Technus whined, rolling over on the bed and resting one arm over the ghost boy’s body. “The Phantom surely wants to hear my latest monologue on how I’m the supreme ruler of everything electronic and beeping.”

“I know I don’t,” Youngblood shrugged.

“Me neither,” Johnny scoffed.

“Or me,” Ember muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

“Just let him rest,” Kitty said shooing the others back and gently brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face revealing sallow features and dark marks under his eyes. “It’s hard enough being human much less a ghost on top of that; between fighting us and trying to have a normal life I bet he hardly gets any sleep. The least we can do is give him a break before he breaks.”

“I suppose it’s not sporting to kill a sleeping prey,” Skulker pouted. “And it’ll make his defeat more meaningful if he’s well rested and not uh,” he gestured to the Phantom’s general state of disarray. 

“Better appreciate it,” Ember sulked for a second, kicking away some pajama pants from the floor. “His stupid human life. I’d give anything to sleep again, just for a minute.” 

The ghosts sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, the dead looking enviously and curiously on the silent, sleeping boy, on a world they could only watch but not engage in. The moment was shattered by the front door slamming open.

“DANNO WE’RE HOME AND WE BROUGHT CHINESE!” Resonated through the house. Startled awake, the ghost child leapt out of the bed and hovered about a foot above it for a moment before sinking back down.

“Darn it Dad, I was napping,” Danny grumbled before he opened his eyes and saw several of his ghostly enemies standing awkwardly in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Technus lounging on his bed. “What the-”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Technus tittered happily, leaning into his personal space. “Ready to hear my spiel?” The temperature in the room dropped rapidly as his core ramped up and spilled over into his eyes which were no doubt glowing a fierce green.

“Get out of my room!” He shouted, reaching over to grab his emergency under the bed thermos but a sock falling from his hair into his face distracted him.

“Hey, just stopping by but we were just on our way out, sleep well, Danny sweetie!” Kitty said dragging the whole group through the floor. His core thrummed in agitation until he felt them cross the portal into the Ghost Zone. He sat there for a moment, shaking and panting from the adrenaline rush before he decided he really didn’t want to know. He flopped back onto the bed and reached over on his nightstand for the bottle Jazz had given him the other day.

“The heck is in this stupid sleep aid?”

[works-of-fanfiction]

“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

_______________

No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

[k-llama-llama]

Donut Date

Stray Kids AU: 9th member

Tori x Stray Kids

Tori’s little outing with Seonghwa

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are OPEN and your feedback is still greatly appreciated!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I’m really starting to think that this is a bad idea.” Tori leaned against the wall outside of the shop. “I should probably cancel.”

“Don’t be such a wimp.” Felix said through the phone. “You can’t cancel now, he’s probably already there.”

Tori glanced down the sidewalk. There was no sign of Seonghwa yet, and every second she waited made her want to bolt.

“This is really weird, right?” She held her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, rummaging through her purse for one of the caramel candies to calm her nerves. “I mean…who goes to a bookstore to hang out?”

“Um, you do?” Felix offered. He was being incredibly supportive. He’d convinced her to finally set up this whole thing, had hung out in her room as she went through seemingly her entire closet while searching for her outfit, and had stayed on the phone with her after she left the house to keep her from backing out.

“You don’t need to worry, Tor.” Felix promised. “It’s super casual. A little bit of shopping and then you’ll get coffee. It’s barely a date.”

“It’s not a date!” She hissed. “It’s just…me paying him back for helping me out.”

“Sure, sure.” Felix didn’t sound convinced. “That’s why it took you two hours to pick out your outfit.”

Tori popped a caramel into her mouth and turned to study her reflection in the window of the bookshop. She’d picked out a tight magenta corduroy dress with a white blouse underneath with slightly puffy sleeves. On her feet she’d gone for white socks and black chunky heels, and she’d curled her black hair and then put a patterned orange scarf in her hair. She looked very seventies, but when she’d left the house, she’d felt amazing about it.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this dress.” She complained.

“Because you look amazing in that dress.” Felix groaned. “Stop freaking out. Just be normal, fun Tori and everything will be fine.”

“Jisung said that I’m annoying and loud.”

“Okay, then be like 85% of normal Tori. Just-“

“Tori?”

“Good luck!” Felix, the traitor, hung up the phone.

Tori tucked her phone into her purse and spun away from the window. The figure coming towards her was wearing a mask, but it wasn’t difficult to recognize Seonghwa.

“Hi.” She gave an awkward little wave. “I’m glad you found the place.”

“Hey.” He stopped in front of her, pulling his mask down below his chin. “I’m sorry if you were waiting I lost track of time when I was getting ready.”

“I just got here.” Tori lied. “Um…do you want to go in?”

“Sure.” He stepped around her to grab the door. “You look really pretty, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Tori blushed, suddenly very happy that she’d worn that dress. “Have you ever been here before?”

“No,” He stepped inside, blinking at the shift from the outdoors. Every spare space was crammed with bookshelves, and there was a warm orange glow that made their jackets uncomfortable. “This place in incredible.”

“I love it here.” Tori smiled. “I come all of the time. Do you want to go look around?”

“Sure.” Tori let him lead the way. She was technically on a book buying ban, so she was content to just hover around the books and be glad that this wasn’t turning into a complete failure.

“Did you see the new teasers they released for Kingdom?” Seonghwa asked, dragging his finger along the spine of a book.

“Yeah, they looked amazing.” Tori said, trying not to sound too insincere. The teasers were actually amazing and she’d loved them when she first saw them, but the reactions had been less than ideal.

“We’re having a comeback soon, but our fans seem really excited about Kingdom.” Seonghwa turned to look at her. “What about your fans?”

Tori gave a small smile. “I think they’re happy about it.”

He frowned. “Why don’t you look happy about it?”

“What?”

“You were so hyped when we talked about it after MAMA.” He tilted his head. “Why aren’t you excited about it?”

Tori shrugged. “I am excited. I just haven’t had the most positive reaction to my participating. Before our company released a statement, I was considering not going through with it.”

“What do you mean?” He exclaimed. “Stray Kids has to participate!”

“Oh, Stray Kids was going to participate.” She reassured him, moving to rearrange some books that weren’t in alphabetical order. “I was just considering sitting it out.”

“What? That’s crazy.” Seonghwa seemed shocked. “What kind of reactions have you been getting? All I’ve seen is positive stuff.”

“Well…not so much from our fans, but some fans of…the other groups,” She hesitated to name his fans among them. “Haven’t been excited about a girl competing on the show.”

“Why?”

Tori gave a little laugh. “Well, some very nice people said that it wouldn’t be fair to you guys if I was allowed to compete…but most people are saying that I’ll drag down the quality of the show by being there.” It kind of stung to admit that. She’d cried when their manager had called and said that Mnet was releasing a statement justifying her presence on the show.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He looked offended. “How would you drag anything down? You’re an amazing singer, you’re a great dancer, you can rap…I mean, you’re gorgeous so it’s not like it’s a visual thing because, let’s be honest you’ll probably bring more male fans to the show. How could they-“

“You done?” Tori interrupted his rant.

He flushed. “I guess. I just can’t believe you have to put up with that.”

She shrugged again. “I’m used to it. Occupational hazard. The guys have my back, so I try not to worry about it too much.”

“Well, I know that we’re all psyched that you’re on the show.” He coughed. “I mean…Stray Kids…you…being a member of Stray Kids.”

Tori smiled. “Thanks. That really does mean a lot.” She decided to try and lighten the mood. “I’m looking forward to kicking all of your butts every week.”

“I think we’ll be able to hold our own.” He laughed.

Tori bit her lip and looked down, still smiling.

“So…do you want to buy anything, or do you want to go get coffee?” Seonghwa asked.

“Oh,” Tori looked up. “I’m not actually allowed to buy anything. Chan put a limit on my book buying once I started to line my mattress with hardcovers.”

“Seriously?” He laughed. “Ok, then. Let’s go get coffee.”

“Come on.” Tori gestured towards the door. “The coffee place has killer donuts.”

“Coffee is on me.” Seonghwa promised.

“Donuts are on me.”

[haikkun]

Kill The Rabbit

It is wear a halter tank-top when playing pool and never wear a v-necked shirt when scooping ice cream at work and it is a Lion King sunset over a concrete viaduct and it is someone taking a steak knife to your heart to check for “doneness”

It is the smell of lager and skin-so-soft and denim burnt to the knees and it is suckling Trixie Beldon books between migraines and mothy sheets and it is “mail my ashes to him, I meant it about the same grave” even though you know he’ll rinse them down the drain and

It is the exhaustion of never being bored and it’s cigarette sounds after the macaroni and cheese and it is the thorn in your paw and you were the lion AND the god and it is always being asked out by the friend of the guy you are chasing and it is being kissed while you are sleeping and it is Hanna-Barberian drawings of men making you think you have no interest

It is trying to look more bored when people peel out at intersections, and it’s being afraid that someone will reach around the back of your neck and find the zipper that you didn’t even know existed

It is “are you a cat person or a dog person?” And it turns out… you aren’t a person.

And it’s been “good answer” and it’s been “the hour of your death” and it is hating every. single. person. who “did a thing”

It’s been “it’s been’s” and it’s been “trying to be’s” and it’s been thinking I might read my shade between the lines and dreaming I could be anything worth writing about and I was already in love with you before you coup de grâced me like that and it’s saying your name under my breath when I don’t want to and FUCKING SCREAMING at myself to fuck off, and…

It is laying out on the grass and it occurring to me that the sun might actually be basking in us and it is thinking you are hot or cold when everything is relative to space dust and it is something dumb that happens when I’m in love

It’s people with “baby on board” stickers who also claim that “all lives matter” and it’s finding out “the sign” was merely “the driver” the whole time

It’s never being as dedicated as the Florida man who died in an explosion after attempting to microwave a microwave and it’s raise your hand if you raised your hand and

It is being so hungry for signs of life you track your own footsteps around the block and it is a multisyllabic mind that cannot cram into a 140 character Twitter count or a picture poem on Instagram and it is being tagged by my tumblr handle on platforms others stole my name on and not being able to receive any of the glory and I don’t do it for the claps but the lack is also the most efficient way to to get down on myself lately

And it’s taking shots while the kids you babysat napped and it’s the sensation of feeling watched all the time even thought nobody’s ever been looking, and it’s a pre-guilty look on your face driving past cops like you’ve been caught even though you haven’t done anything lately (well, that’s a lie) and I always wanted to be turned into my favorite tree when I die but I’m so bad at staying in one place and I’ve been thinking maybe I should be rammed into a firework instead and then I contemplate the cost-savings benefit between them, after all, it’s MY funeral and then people who loved me too little in life can get tattoos of the explosion, and it’s been clear I’ve been depriving myself of being truly beautiful because I haven’t given birth, and it’s being responsible for all of the plagues of the world because we were two people’s more swol halves and even at 50% I am responsible for one and a half persons that never made it to this earth, and it’s playing chicken with the lightning and hoping every single wave pulls you under or that something somewhere will take pity on the world and dispatch you and it’s realizing it would be easier to just stop feeding yourself but that’s different and unacceptable but what really is the difference and it’s finding out that pain is what’s art to somebody else and it’s comparing myself and coming up short and it’s leaving out half of everything since we met because I can’t lose you yet and

“It’s a circle…” she coughs. “You run as far and hard from death as you can that you don’t realized you’ve wrapped yourself back around again…” and it is not feeling qualified to be here, ever, and here is everywhere

____________________________

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

[goldenraeofsun]

Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas. 

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans. 

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

[firstdegreefangirl]

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” i would love this prompt for Chenford!

Love your writing!!!

Anon, you KILLED me with this one. I had no idea what I wanted to do with it, then a tiny inkling of an idea, then I wrote close to 1600 words in one sitting. Even though I try to keep prompt fills under or around 1k, it is what it is, and I like this so much that I’m not going to make myself pare it down. So thanks for the ask, and enjoy!

Oh, and spoilers for 3.09, if you haven’t at least seen the Facebook promo that got me to watch the full clip even though I still haven’t seen the whole episode. I’m working on it, I swear.

---

“Look me in the face and tell me you don’t think I have the killer instinct to do undercover work.”

It had taken longer than Tim cared to admit before he could school his features enough to meet Lucy’s eyeline and sneer at her. Even then, it had only lasted a second before he couldn’t stand to look at her any longer.  

An entire year they’ve spent together, Tim testing his rookie at every step of the way.

Not once had he imagined that she’d have the audacity to test him back. And today, of all days.  

And like this.  

He’s got to ignore it. He has to make it at least through the end of the shift without constantly thinking about how she’d laughed mere moments after saying she had feelings for him.

It’s not weird. He’d been honest when he told her that.  

And I appreciate your honesty.

It’s not weird. It’s so much worse.

Because for the rest of the shift, every time he catches sight of Lucy, Tim’s stomach starts to churn. Every time he hears her voice, his heart beats double-time in his chest. Every time the light fragrance of her perfume wafts across the shop into his nose, he wants to go buy a dozen of those stupid cardboard trees and duct tape them to every air vent.  

Because every time he so much as thinks about Lucy, he thinks about what he’d almost said to her, before she’s started laughing at him.  

And he still has to turn in her final evaluation, so he’s thinking about her a lot.

He’s thinking about the last year of their lives, all the ways she’s grown into her career, all the ways she’s grown on him.

And he’s thinking about how for just a second, the barest breath of an instant, the world had stopped turning around him this morning.

I have feelings for you.  

He hadn’t known what to say to that, how to respond without losing one or both of their jobs. And then she had suggested that he might have feelings for her too, had come way too close to the only card in his hand Tim had known he could never show.  

Had he been showing it this whole time?

But she’d started laughing, and the whole thing had been a ruse. Lucy had been fucking with him, and it had worked, and now he can’t shake the way the nausea burns in his stomach. He hardly eats his lunch, even though they both know how much he loves the food truck, blames it on a big breakfast and anxiety about the AMBER Alert.

And somehow, by nothing short of a miracle, he survives the shift. Baby Young is reunited with her parents, Lucy gets promoted to P2, and Tim handles it all without passing out, throwing up, or punching any walls.  

All in all, it’s a good day.

But it’s over before he knows it. Before he’s ready, he’s standing in the parking garage, holding a box and sporting a face full of white powder.  

She got him again, and he can’t even bring himself to be upset about it.  

“It’s been a blast, sir,” she says, laughing again. He loves the sound, even though it feels like a knife in his gut as he thinks again about earlier.

“It has,” he says, then surprises himself. “I can … buy you a drink? Now that you’re not a rookie anymore, there are some things we need to talk about.”

He tries to make it sound like he’s getting ready to give her more career advice, the kinds of firsthand accounts that aren’t relevant until she’s cleared the academy. And he’s got those too, decades of stories about truly helping people who need it and rules bent for the right reasons.  

But that’s not what he’s going to say, and he knows it. He feels it deep in his gut as he leads the way across town, sitting right next to the lingering panic from the morning as he watches Lucy’s headlights behind him.

Then they’re sitting across from each other, crammed into a tiny booth, knees knocking together under the table, no matter how many times they try to rearrange themselves. He waves a bartender over, asks for a pitcher of whatever domestic is on tap, and two glasses.  

Neither of them say anything until the drinks arrive, until they’ve each downed half a beer. But Tim knows it won’t last, so for once today, he’s not surprised when Lucy breaks the silence.

“We need to talk?” There’s hesitation in her voice, and for a moment, Tim feels a little bad. He wonders what she thinks he’s about to say, even though he knows she won’t be right.

“What you said earlier … in the shop, you know …" He’s stammering again, stumbling where he's usually brash and a little overconfident, and he hates how easy it is for Lucy to throw him off his game. She doesn’t even have to try, and she’s changing the very fundamentals of his personality. But she nods, so he soldiers on. “I don’t think you were being honest with me. Um, dishonest. Ah, at the … at first. Before you …"

Before you took away everything I’ve known the last 12 months.

“So I … wasn’t lying?” Lucy furrows her brow, trying to untangle everything Tim’s said.

“No, you were.” Tim takes a long drink, but his mouth is still dry. “When you tried to convince me that it was just a show of your undercover skills. I don’t think it was. I …" Here goes everything, Bradford. “I hope it wasn’t.”

“You — I — What?” It’s Lucy’s turn to be speechless now, and Tim can see the way her fingers tighten around her glass. “You — you hope?”

“You deserve my honesty,” Tim says simply, mirroring her words from earlier, just before she’d pulled the rug out from under him. He leans forward. “Lucy, when you said … I didn’t get a chance to respond before you switched gears. Not honestly. And the truth is … you were right. When you said I’m protective of you because I have feelings for you.”

Her eyes narrow.

“This isn’t some Revenge Tim Test, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Tim holds his hands out on the table, palms up, a physical representation of how open he’s trying to be. “I don’t know when it started, or really even when I noticed. But you’re right, we’ve been through a lot this year, both of us. A lot of it together, but all of it as partners. And somewhere along the way, it became more than I’d bargained for.  

“In a good way,” he hurries to add. “I like it. You. I like — I like you. A lot.” Dammit, he’s stammering again. “And I think you were honest when you said you had feelings for me.” Lucy nods slowly, but makes no effort to speak, and he can’t read anything definite in the gesture. “You’re right, you’re not my rookie anymore. It might be complicated, but in my experience, the best things usually are. And I think that if there’s something here, between us … it’s worth pursuing.”  

Tim lets the rest of the air out of his lungs, drains his glass in one swallow and pours himself a refill. Lucy still hasn’t said anything, but he’s determined to let her say her piece, even if she needs a second to process everything. The longer she’s silent, the more worry builds up in his chest, but he knows he’s done the right thing. She deserves his honesty; he’d meant that when he said it.  

“Tim …" Lucy starts, then trails off. “You really thought I —” She laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “I really should go out for undercover work. After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t know that I love you?”  

“I know that I want you to.” It’s somehow more honest than anything else he’s said tonight, putting it all on the line. Tim sets his hand on the table again, and there are no words to express the way his chest swells when Lucy reaches forward tentatively to tuck her fingers between his. “I know that I’m crazy about you, and that maybe if we’re on the same page about that, some of this year will have been worth it.”

“Only some?” Lucy smiles, and he’s pretty sure she’s trying to flirt with him. Now that he’s letting himself look for those signals, they’re clear as day in front of him.

“Yeah, well, you really shouldn’t have had to get kidnapped for us to work this out.”  

“Fair,” She laughs, and for the first time all day, the sound doesn’t turn to molten lead in his stomach. Now he feels warm, comfortable with everything that’s hanging between them. “But however we got here, I’m just glad we made it.”

Lucy leans forward, eye flicking down to look at his mouth, and yeah, he’s picking up the signals. He squeezes her fingers, half-stands in the booth, just far enough to close the space between them and brush their lips together.

It’s a fleeting moment, the angle all wrong and Tim’s back already starting to ache from the strain. None of that matters when he sits back down, though, because he knows there are many more moments to come, just like this and even better.

“Me too, Lucy.”

[emsemotional]

out of line

Okay so this is a little baby one shot  based on my mental health advocate!mickey headcanon that I posted a little while back. I used to write a lot for various fandoms back in high school, but it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve shared anything I’ve written with anyone other than @lewslew, so please be nice- I definitely have some room to grow with characterization and timing. 

This is taking place post-finale, so I’ve taken some liberties regarding what everyone ends up doing after the series. In my mind, Mickey and Ian buy the Gallagher house themselves, because they’re Southside boys at heart and they need a backyard for their dog (duh). But they’re waiting on their Westside lease to end, so Lip, Tami and Liam are staying in the house while Lip and Debbie fix it up and renovate a little (you can find my whole hc on what everyone’s up to post-series here). I was talking to @iansfreckles a while back about a possible Gallagher/Tamietti family dinner- I’m so interested in how this would go and how the families’ dynamics would interact. SO, this takes place at said Gallagher/Tamietti family cookout, right as Lip and Tami are moving out of the house, and Ian and Mickey are moving in. Cami and Brad’s kids are with Aunt Oopie, I dunno I didn’t want to write them haha. 

Content warning: ignorant/rude comments about individuals with mental illnesses and language akin to that of the show

-

Tami had almost said no when Cory asked to bring her new boyfriend to the Gallagher house. Between the Gallagher and Tamietti families, there were going to be plenty of big personalities under one roof, as is. But Cory had actually asked this time, and she had just babysat Fred during a last minute highlight appointment. Tami had reluctantly agreed and her sister had seemed so happy that she almost forgot her hesitation. 

Looking back, Tami’s decision was questionable. Lip had been able to prepare his family for the rest of the Tamietti’s, explaining the family dynamics and topics to avoid. Chad was a wildcard.

He had burst through the front door laughing loudly beside Brad and Cami, who didn’t seem to think the joke was as funny as Chad did. Cory and Bob followed them in, annoyance clear on Bob’s face. Tami and Lip moved to the door to greet their visitors, Tami depositing Fred in Carl’s lap, where he was sitting on the couch. Carl immediately grabbed the toddler under his arms, grinning at him and lifting him up above his head, making propellor noises on his way down. 

This, this is what Tami had wanted her family to see. The Tamiettis had made it clear that while they tolerated Lip, they thought Tami could do better. They thought he was ill equipped to help raise a family, constantly doubting his ability to provide, and his dedication to his family. Tami had tried to explain Lip’s role in his own family- the patriarch of the Gallagher home, a man who had been taking care of people for his entire life. Perhaps the only way for the other Tamiettis to see the value in the Gallagher side of Fred’s family, was to observe it first hand.

Lip made it to the Tamiettis first, shaking Bob’s hand and taking the handful of bags and jackets that were thrust into his arms. 

“No show Brad!” Tami cheered, hugging her sisters, “You made it!” 

Brad rolled his eyes, lightly clapping Tami on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

Cory turned towards her sister, a wide smile on her face, “Tam, this is Chad, the guy I was telling you about?” 

Tami turned to shake his hand, finally giving him a good look. Truth be told, he looked like every other guy Cory had seriously dated- some tall, brunette, conventionally attractive, straight laced kind of guy. He didn’t seem any different from the other business majors, fraternity boys and bar bouncers that Cory had intruded her to. 

“Tami right? So great to meet you, thanks for inviting me!” 

“Of course, nice to meet you too! Come on in, you guys!” 

The Tamiettis settled into the living room, Cami choosing the seat next to Carl, cooing down to Fred, “There’s my favorite nephew! How are you sweet boy?” 

She ran a gentle hand across Fred’s head before introducing herself to Carl, “I’m Cami, Tami’s sister.” Carl swallowed a smirk at the rhyming names, nodding, “Carl, Lip’s brother.”

“Ah, the one buying the house?” 

“Nah, that’s Ian and Mickey, they’re upstairs somewhere. I’m the cop,” Carl stated proudly.

“Fuck the police!” Mickey’s voice called into the living room in response, as a flash of red and black hair came tumbling down the stairs. All the Tamiettis turned to watch Mickey jog through the living room with Franny on his shoulders, Ian chasing after them. 

“Get him Uncle Mickey!” Franny squealed, “He’s gonna catch us!”

“I’m a little busy running, kid. Hit ‘em or somethin’,” Mickey grunted, scrambling to hand his niece a rubber ball previously balanced on the back of the couch. 

Franny wound up her arm, tossing the ball at Ian’s head with all her six year old might, “Take that, Uncle Ian! You’re dead!”

Ian groaned dramatically, clutching his face and sliding onto the ground. He let out a theatrical sign and closed his eyes, finally defeated. 

Franny cheered as Mickey lifted her off his shoulders, “We did it! We killed him!” Franny dropped down to the ground to check that Ian had accepted his defeat, poking him in the back with the toe of her shoe.

Mickey gave her a crinkly grin, the kind he reserved for Franny and Ian alone- unguarded and childlike. “Sure did! Pretty badass if you ask me.” 

Ian got to his feet, tickling Franny’s stomach as he addressed the room, “Hey, sorry we were in the middle of… a game.” 

“Liquor store robbery!” Franny cheerfully announced. 

 Franny began introducing herself to the unfamiliar faces, sharing that she was in the first grade, enjoyed playing with guns, and wanted to be a welder like her mommy when she grew up. As Liam and Debbie descended the stairs, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Tamiettis introduced themselves, Tami marveled at how smoothly things seemed to be going. No one was yelling, or aggressively drunk, or making a thinly veiled classist comment- yet. 

The two families quickly settled into a comfortable chatter of introductions and the conversation, surprisingly, continued to flow without a hitch. They soon made their way outside, where Debbie and Bob chatted while manning the grill. The other family members scattered across the yard- Liam sat in a lawn chair typing on a laptop, occasionally asking Lip for grammar advice. Ian, in the middle of telling some wild story from his EMT days, was fully emerged in conversation with the rest of the Tamietti family while Mickey and Carl considered how many crimes Carl could theoretically arrest him for, arguing over how many years Mickey would have to serve. 

Everything was great- until Chad decided to open his mouth. They had finished dinner and were crammed into the living room, escaping the Chicago windchill. Chad was sharing one of his own work stories from the construction site he worked on, describing a man who had wandered onto the site and started yelling at Chad and some of his coworkers that week.

“Totally off his rocker,” Chad commented, “He kept telling us about how we were tearing down his house, and that he didn’t give us permission to do this. Just screaming at us, swearing, and he wouldn’t listen when we kept telling him that he trespassing, y’know? Just super crazy- needed a fucking Xanax or something.” 

Ian tensed, fiddling with the ring on his left hand while the other Gallaghers exchanged pointed glances. Tami began to interrupt, clearly in attempt to change the subject, but Chad continued. 

“The next day,” he explained, “the very next day, he came up to us and was asking to bum a smoke, like he didn’t fucking flip his crazy ass on us yesterday, I swear he must’ve been like bipolar or something, acting like we were old pals. Must’ve gotten carted off or killed or something, haven’t seen him since.” 

While the Tamiettis offered a polite chuckle, the Gallaghers remained silent. 

Mickey, who had been sitting on the couch next to Ian, looked up from his folded hands. “So you got something against bipolar people? It’s a fucking mental illness man.” 

Chad smiled, backtracking, “Hey, nah, calm down. He’s just some crazy homeless dude, who cares?” 

“He’s not just some crazy guy, he’s a person with a disease, the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked. 

Ian placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder shaking his head. “Mick, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Eyebrows raised comically high, Mickey stood and crossed his arms. “Um, fuck that, it does matter! You’re not a fucking punchline Ian. This is our house, yours and mine, and no one’s going to be talking like that in my house. Obviously no one else is going to say something, and you shouldn’t have to, so I will. I won’t stand for that shit.”

The Tamiettis exchanged horrified looks as the Gallaghers mostly just looked at the floor. Finally Lip spoke up from where he was standing by the TV, “Mental health is uh… a sensitive subject around here. We just… we take it seriously, y’know? First hand experiences and shit.” 

Cory opened her mouth to speak but she quickly stopped when she saw Tami swiftly shake her head in her direction, suggesting she stay out of it. 

Mickey lightly rubbed his eyebrow, “Yo, douchebag, apologize or get the hell out of my house.”

Chad raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal man, sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes with a huff, turning on his heel to walk towards the back of the house. Wordlessly, Ian followed him out the back door, leaving the living room in a heavy silence.

After a moment, Chad breaks the silence, “Look, I really didn’t mean to start something, I was just telling a story. Should I go out and apologize again, try to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam replied, “You should give Mickey some time to cool off.” 

“Yeah,” Lip agreed, “I wouldn’t follow them out. Mickey… he gets protective? Always has been, of Ian. Our mom was bipolar, and so’s Ian. He’s stable, doing great, but he’s, uh, he’s been through a lot. It’s just not good joke material around here.”

Chad nodded, silence overtaking the room again. Franny looked up from her coloring book, clearly bored with the turn the night had taken.

“I’m gonna go play with Uncle Mickey and cheer him up!” 

Debbie chuckled from her seat across the room, “Yeah, go bring them some beers Franny.” 

“Okay!” Franny chirped, hopping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen. Debbie gave a soft smile as she watched her daughter, on the way to hang out with her favorite uncles. 

-

From his seat on the back stairs, Ian watched Mickey pace through the yard, grumbling about “Fucking Northside yuppies… and their ignorant bigoted asses… what the fuck is wrong with people?” He glanced over at Ian, his expression softening when he noticed the defeated look on Ian’s face. Mickey paused his pacing, coming to sit next to Ian on the steps. 

“I’m sorry, I know I prolly embarrassed you. Was I out of line man? I just got so fucking mad,” Mickey quietly mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

Ian gently shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You weren’t out of line… I think I’m just disappointed, y’know? That comments like that still get to me? I should be over it by now, every reminder that I’m sick or different shouldn’t still sting like that. And why do I have to be the one that the conflict and the drama revolves around? Why not fucking Carl or Liam or god… anyone else just for once?

Mickey’s expression softened even further. He nudged his knee into Ian’s leg, “What’s that shit you told me when Terry died? Trauma doesn’t always make fucking sense and recovery isn’t… oh shit, what’s the word? Linear! Recovery isn’t linear. Doesn’t make you fucking weak, just means you’ve been through some shit.”

“Yeah. I guess it was easier to tell you that than it is to tell myself.” 

Mickey hummed in agreement and the two sat in silence for a moment before the back door creaked open. A tiny red head shoved her way through the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around two bottles, frosty with condensation. Franny sat down on the steps between them, silently handing her uncles their beers. Ian accepted his with a dry chuckle, thanking her. Mickey ruffled her hair, offering a small smile. The voices from inside had faded and the night was relatively calm, other than the occasional siren or dog barking. 

Franny, not looking particularly concerned, looked up at them to ask, “Uncle Mickey, why’d you get mad at that guy?”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow and let out a sigh. He looked towards Ian, a silent request for him to take the lead on this conversation. He was confident in his ability to discuss the stupidity of princesses or the importance of wearing gloves during a legitimate liquor store robbery with his niece. He knew how to play, and joke, and how to be there when she woke up from a bad dream, stumbling down the stairs with bedhead and snotty tears. Mickey had grown into his role as an uncle, but he still doubted his ability to talk about the tough stuff with anyone other than Ian. 

Ian cleared his throat, taking a second before asking, “Franny, do you know what it means to make a joke at someone else’s expense?” 

Franny’s eyebrows scrunched together and she shook her head. 

“It’s when you make a joke to kind of make fun of someone else. Like to tease them. Y’know how we make cop jokes around Uncle Carl because he’s a cop?”

She nodded, and Ian continued, “That guy… Aunt Tami’s sister’s boyfriend, was making a joke and it ended up being at my expense. That’s what made Uncle Mickey mad. He didn’t mean to make fun of me, but he kind of did. That’s all. Uncle Mickey was just sticking up for me.”

Franny sat for a moment, deep in thought. “I didn’t know he was talking about you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Not directly. He was telling a story about someone else. But he made a comment about him being bipolar. D’you remember when we talked about that? That I have bipolar disorder?” 

Franny nodded, “That’s why you take your special medicine.”

Ian continued, “A lot of people don’t really understand what that means, and sometimes they make jokes about it that aren’t really funny. They’re just kind of… mean. So that’s why we got upset.”

Franny considered this for a minute and asked, “Do you want me to go tell mommy? She says I should tell her if someone’s being mean. She can fix it.” 

Ian smiled a little, patting her little back and shaking his head, “Nah, mommy already knows, she heard. And I think Uncle Mickey did a pretty good job telling him that what he said was wrong.” 

Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh, “And I got more to say to that piece of shit if I ever see his Northside yuppy fucking face again.”

“I think he got the point Mick,” Ian sighed, “Don’t waste your time.” 

Franny shrugged “Mommy and Uncle Lip and Aunt Tami were all still talking in there when I left. Mommy told me it was a good idea for me to come out here.” 

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatcha wanna do, man? We can head back to the apartment, go to the Alibi and get tanked, I don’t care, it’s up to you.”

“Don’t know, I’m tired of running from things. And you were right Mick, it’s our fucking house. Could we just sit out here for a little while?” Mickey ran a thumb across Ian’s hand and mumbles so quietly, in that voice he only uses with Ian- “‘Course we can”

Having completed her task of delivering beers, Franny stood up and put her hands on her hips, “I’m going to go inside, I won’t let anyone be mean to you Uncle Ian.”

Ian looked up to lock eyes with his niece, “I appreciate it Fran, thanks.” 

She stood up and gave Ian a kiss on the top of his head, no doubt a gesture she’d picked up from some other family member, likely Mickey or Fiona. Ian smiled as she turned away to walk back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Ian jerked his head towards the door, “Y’ready?” 

Mickey hummed in agreement, standing and offering back his hand to help Ian up. They walked over the threshold of the kitchen into a conversation clearly about Mickey’s exchange with Chad. The Tamiettis were all sitting down in the living room, with the Gallaghers mostly standing, leaning against the various remaining surfaces. Lip’s hands were in his hair, a plain indication of his frustration and exhaustion. Tami abruptly stopped talking, in the middle of what seemed like an impassioned rant. She seemed unsure of how to continue now that Ian and Mickey had reentered the house. Debbie, sat on the couch with Franny in her lap, was scowling, while Liam absently stared at the wall, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Carl quickly walked into the kitchen from where he had been leaning up against the living room door frame, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go take a walk or something for a sec- I think Lip and Tami have it handled.”

Lip spoke up from the living room, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Mickey tensed, bracing himself. “No, it’s not fucking okay Phillip-“

Lip grumbled something about that not being what he meant, shaking his head, while Ian quietly interrupted his husband, forcing him to make eye contact. 

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to just keep going over it, Mick. I’m not in the mood to educate him. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I want to move on. Lip can handle it.”

Carl nodded and repeated himself, “Go take a walk, come back in ten. Lip and Tami got it.” 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a joint and pressing it into Ian’s palm with a smirk. 

“Rolled this for later, you guys take it.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey, who let out a sigh with a slouch, “Fine. Be back in ten.”

-

The two of them return to the backyard, Tami’s yelling resumed, her voice carrying all the way outside. 

 “M’sorry, I know I keep talkin’ when you just want it to be over with,” Mickey mumbled, looking down at the dead grass in the vacant lot beside the house.

 Ian grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers brushing through Mickey’s short hair, “Hey, no. I… I appreciate you sticking up for me- seriously. I’m just tired… tonight’s not supposed to be about me y’know? It’s supposed to be about Lip and Tami, and Fred, not me. I just wanted to be Lip’s brother tonight, not the crazy brother, the sick brother. I just don’t wanna be the one that causes the issues anymore.” 

“You didn’t cause this Ian. You being bipolar didn’t fucking cause this- that asshole, opening his mouth and not knowing when to shut it- that’s what caused it. I get that you just wanna let it go, and I will, but if he say’s something else-“

“If he says something else you can beat the shit out of him.”

Mickey grinned, looking up to meet Ian’s gaze. “Fucking fantastic. You wanna smoke this bitch?” 

He grabbed the joint out of Ian’s hand and pulled a lighter from his flannel’s front pocket.

Ian finally cracked a smile, one that actually reaches his eyes, “Free weed? Fuck yeah.”

Mickey tossed the lighter to Ian, who caught it and lit the joint with a practiced flick. He took a couple hits and closed his eyes, smiling again as he exhaled the smoke. He handed the lit joint over to Mickey, along with his lighter and jerked his head in the direction of the van in the backyard, “Wanna go sit?” 

Mickey nodded and breathed in a sharp inhale, heading in the direction of the passenger seat door. 

Ian climbed up into the drivers seat, letting out a deep sigh, “Feel like I’m in high school again- sneaking around with you, trying to find somewhere to be alone.” Mickey chuckled and passed the joint back over.

 They smoked in silence for a while, Ian nudging Mickey with his elbow as the ember approaches the filter, “You want the last hit?” 

“Nah man, that’s yours,” Mickey shakes his head.

Ian took it, stubbing out the butt on the van’s dashboard and tossing it onto the floor. 

“Still wanna kick his ass?” He asked, lazily turning his head towards Mickey with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I think I can contain myself.”

“Yeah?” Ian breathed, inching his face closer to his husband’s. The moon, freshly risen, highlighted Ian’s face, illuminating the dash of freckles across his nose.

Mickey didn’t answer, opting to close the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s hand came up to cradle Mickey’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek.

And if they didn’t make it back inside for a while, so be it. 

[sophygurl]

this year’s last year

Been awhile since I’ve posted here. 

Kind of pop in for wee peaks here and there but how’s about a lil personal update?

I’m in kind of a rough place rn. I keep time traveling back to last year at this time.

Last year, as we were entering year 2 of this ongoing pandemic.

Last year, as I was helping my bestest friend in the whole wide world get her affairs in order and trying to cram in as much quality time together as possible because we knew the end was coming soon due to her terminal cancer diagnosis.

Last year, as I was trying to be my mom’s rock as she got her cancer treated.

Last year, as my close friend and roommate was recently also diagnosed with cancer.

Last year, as I was dealing with my own additional health issues on top of all of my already existing health issues (including the chronic sciatica that we’re now also in year 3 of along with this pandemic). 

Last year, as I tried so hard to hold it all together to be everything to everybody and also keep my own spirits up. 

This year, some things have changed and some haven’t. 

This year, I have all the same health issues and we’re still in a pandemic (although we have more and more ppl denying the pandemic is real/as serious as it is and taking fewer precautions, making the world that much more dangerous).

This year, my mom is blessedly cancer free. (Although the type of cancer she had is one that is likely to return and will not be curable if it does, so we remain vigilant and worried)

This year, instead of anxiety about how I will manage helping my bestest friend transition from life and how I will deal with her loss - I am grieving and dealing with the trauma of caring for her in her final weeks. 

This year, my roommate has yet to receive any care for her cancer still. I am anxious, angry, frustrated, stressed, terrified, enraged, and in massive amounts of denial about this depending on the day. 

This year, I’ve got one foot stuck in last year and one foot scared to move into tomorrow. I’m trying to process my grief and trauma and anxiety and health issues and everyone else’s pain and anxiety and sadness. 

This year, I’m leaning heavily on all of my coping skills, therapy, my chosen family/queerplatonic poly fam, my spiritual community, and everything else I can think of to do all of that. 

It’s hard. But I’m doing it.