he would never think something like that

Kelly Marie Tran thought she'd quit acting — then The Last Jedi put her dream into hyperdrive

Entertainment Weekly

You have this dream. You want to be an actor. But that possibility seems far, far away. You have talent, but zero connections. You love movies, and TV, and comedy. They’re a part of you. So you want to be a part of them.

You go for it.

You leave everything you know and move to where they craft movies and TV. To make ends meet, you take jobs you wouldn’t mind losing if a better gig comes along. Years go by. You book a few small roles. But you’re tired. And you’re worried. It’s not happening.

Then one day, after all that grueling work, a miracle happens. You get your break.

It’s big one. Almost too much to believe.

You get the lead in a Star Wars movie.

It happened for Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, Hayden Christensen, and Daisy Ridley. With The Last Jedi, it has happened again for Kelly Marie Tran.

The 28-year-old San Diego native landed the role of Rose Tico, a problem-solving Resistance mechanic, just about a year after she was ready to give up chasing that dream forever.

“There was absolutely a moment,” Tran tells EW. “When I turned 25, I had been at it for some years and I was struggling to pay my bills. I was tired. I had been working [my day job] 40-plus hours a week, plus sometimes I’d have two auditions in the day and then I would write a sketch or do improv at night, or rehearse for the next auditions the next day. So, my days, I would get up at 5 a.m. and then I wouldn’t be home until 11:00 p.m. The days were like that for years.”

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Maybe This Will Show You...(Billy Hargrove prompt)

Originally posted by bigbadroman

Request: Can I have an imagine with Billy with #74 #88 #150 and #146. Billy doesn’t think that anyone can love someone like him so you show up at his house late at night to prove to him that you love him, because earlier you and him had a fight in school about it.

74) “make me”
88) “why are you here?”
146) “are you too blind to see that I care?”
150) “I don’t care what you did, everyone deserves a happy ending, including you”

Warning(s): bad words, sad, fluff

Billy Hargrove. That was the name (Y/N) couldn’t stop thinking about. Sure, she shouldn’t even be associated with a guy like him because of his actions, but she couldn’t help it.

(Y/N) was Billy’s girlfriend, they had been dating only for a few months. Whenever she was with him, she knew how to calm him down and he never dared to get angry or lash out at her.

It was simple. Billy loves (Y/N). He didn’t think he would love anyone, only because he doesn’t think it was possible for someone to truly love a person like him.

His simple thought, is what caused him and (Y/N) to fight at school as of right now.

“(Y/N), we are done” Billy simply stated as he watched the girl put her things in her locker. She froze, “Done? Why? Did I do something?” She interrogated.

Billy shook his head, “That’s exactly the thing, you didn’t do anything. It’s all on me, alright?”.

Billy turned to leave but (Y/N) wasn’t going to let that happen. He felt her pull on his arm and he looked at her.

“You’re not going anywhere till you explain. Don’t lie, I know when you lie. Don’t give me bullshit answers either” (Y/N) spoke.

Billy clenched his jaw knowing he can’t get out of this situation, “Fine! You wanna know? I love you, but I don’t know why you are with me. I don’t understand how anyone would be okay with being with me. For fucks sake (Y/N), no one will ever love me. Not even you. I’m not worthy of being loved and if I am, I definitely don’t deserve it. Couple months ago, I fucking tried to run Max’s friends over, I beat Harrington to a pulp. Why? Because I’m a grade A asshole and that’s just who I am, therefore no one can love me for those things”.

(Y/N)’s face softened, “Billy, don’t say that. I love you! I really do”.

“See, it’s hard to believe a girl like you, can love a guy like me” Billy argued. His eyes averted towards Max, who was walking out the building towards the car.

“I gotta go” was all Billy said and he walked away leaving (Y/N) to think of what she could possibly do to make him believe that she truly does love him.

Later that day at 7, (Y/N) left her house and drove over to Billy’s. She got out the car and rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to open the door.

The door opened and revealed Max. “(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” The little red headed girl asked.

“Hey Max. Can I talk to Billy?” She questioned.

“Max! Who the fuck are you talking to? Tell them to go away and-” A voice demanded but was cut off.

(Y/N) looked up to see Billy. “Max, go do whatever you were doing” He told the girl and she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Billy stepped out of the house and onto the porch. “Why are you here?” He asked while taking out a cigarette from the pack and lighting it.

“I’m here because I want to talk to you” (Y/N) answered.

“Yeah, well don’t waste your time, you should go” Billy responded, blowing out a puff of smoke.

(Y/N) put her hands on her hips, “Make me” She challenged.

“I’m not gonna make you do shit. You wanna talk to me? Talk” He spoke, acting like he didn’t care one bit but he did.

Are you too blind to see that I care? That’s why I really am here, because I care. That whole number you said to me, made my heart break. You may be an asshole, but you’re my asshole. Don’t you dare think for one minute that no one can ever love you. I love you! God dammit Billy! I fucking love you with all my heart. And you know what? I don’t care what you did, everyone deserves a happy ending, including you”. (Y/N) ranted, tears filling her eyes.

“If that didn’t show you that someone can love you, then maybe this will show you” She added.

Billy was confused up until (Y/N) reached over and cupped his face and smashed her lips against his. Billy kissed her back immediately.

The kiss was very different from the typical yet many ones that they have shared before. This kiss was passionate and gentle, yet it was needy. (Y/N) kept kissing Billy like her life depended on it, because it truly did. She didn’t want to lose him. 

Just from the kiss, Billy knew that he was worth being loved by someone. Not just by someone, more specifically by (Y/N) (L/N). The one girl that he has told himself many times, that he loved her and now he truly knew that she loved him and made him believe that others can love him too.

anonymous asked:

I don't know if you heard about this, but Jeremy said something like "yes,podge and lonce are gonna fall in love (laughter), I'm joking of course" and he would never say something like this about an endgame ship... they would kill him... p!dgance shippers are delusional as fuck thinking it means it's gonna be canon😂😂

LMAO yeah his nda wouldn’t allow him to say that if it was gonna be canon

anonymous asked:

(Anon asking for advise earlier) if I opened my mouth to say hi. Nothing would come out. And if something did come out, It’d probably sound like “djeksksiwj” and then I’d have to run away. I am an embarrassment lol.

Well I don’t really know what else to say haha. I’ve never been in a relationship before so I’m the last person to ask about trying to start something. Any dudes I interact with are usually my gaming friends, so our conversations are usually about games bwahaha

But I mean, if you’re embarrassed now and he hasn’t noticed you, how do you expect to do anything if he does notice you? I think it would be better if you built up the courage to say hi first instead of him noticing you and then talking to you only to realize you can’t speak lol

In almost 2 years of watching Mark, I’ve never seen him like this.

Now I’m not the most observant on the planet, and I still feel like a newcomer to the channel, but I know Mark has had his ups and downs since I’ve watched him.

Vlogs posted at early morning hours with the serious somewhat melancholy background music, saying how much he wants to be better, be more proud of his work and himself.

Honestly, I kinda assumed this time would be the same. He’d take his hiatus, then go back to what he was doing before, maybe slightly differently, maybe make some more Markiplier Promises™, until another vlog appears a few months later repeating the same position as the last.

But this time has been different- already!

I’ve never seen Mark so excited. Ever. I don’t even think I’ve seen him this happy? Even though Mark has always been doing something that he enjoys, I think you’d have to be dead to not realize that this is something different.

His excitement and passion to make these videos! His creativity flowing like (what seems like) never before! He wants to include us in all the goofiness that is his life! He’s so eager! And he’s doing it! Which inspires me too, maybe I can go out and accomplish things one step at a time, just like Mark is!

He wants to enjoy what he’s doing, and of course we want him to as well. And I know we will! There is so much hope in his heart and his genuine excitement is so important in such a world like this! His demeanor is so much more positive and joyful since his return you can’t help but want to support him (if you didn’t already)

I know I say it all the time- but I’m so proud! It takes courage to step outside of your comfort zone, even with people you know love you.

I’m so glad that you’re so excited @markiplier . I really am! And I am too! Now go enjoy your vacation with Amy, you deserve a break from your break ;)

Cuddle Styles

I saw @aidens-archive make a post like this about the Dunkirk cast, showing how they all might like to snuggle up, and I was totally inspired! So here’s how I think our Painfully Thick™ gentlemen would cuddle…

Jason Momoa This guy. There’s no way he can cuddle without trying to get it in, ya know what I mean? He’s a rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, and that’s exactly how he cuddles - tossing you onto the bed and rolling around with you between the sheets.

Henry Cavill Superman is the ultimate big spoon. And what could be better than having those big, bulging arms wrapped around you? He’d nuzzle into your hair, whispering sweet thoughts into your ear as you fell asleep.

Tom Hardy This big beefy puppy. He’s got that tough guy exterior, but deep down, he’s an emotional, cuddly guy. He’d want you to hold him, soothe him, protect him. He’d be happy falling asleep in each other’s arms whenever possible.

Tom Holland He’s such a fun, light-hearted guy and cuddling with him would be just the same. He’d be playful and active, unable to stay in the same position for long. He’d play with your hair, tickle you, and give you kisses on your nose.

Chris Pine Chris is an old-school, romantic type. He’ll want to shower you in affection, kissing on you the entire time. He loves sweaters and blankets, so he’ll always have a big fluffy comforter to wrap you up in when the weather turns cold.

Sebastian Stan HO BOY what I wouldn’t do to snuggle this man. I think he’d be a quiet cuddler - wrapping himself around you, intertwining arms, legs, souls; holding you close for as long as you needed. Making sure that HE is the peaceful, calming place for you to be at the end of the day.

Chris Evans Whereas Hardy is the cuddly puppy, Evans is the mischievous, troublemaker puppy. He’ll want to be face-to-face, looking into your eyes at all times. His hands will always be fussing over you, whether they be playing with your hair or unhooking your bra. He’ll never cross the line, but always be pushing boundaries to see what he can get away with.

Tom Hiddleston Oh, Hiddles. He’s going to hold you in his arms like a treasure. What’s important to him is your comfort, your happiness. He’d never want to let you go, kissing you on the forehead every chance he got, telling you exactly how much you mean to him.

So what do y’all think!? Reply/reblog with your thoughts! I had so much fun making this; is it something you guys would want to see more of? 😏💖

Steam (M)

WARNINGS: graphic smut, very angsty, vulgar words, riding, overstimulation, kitten kink, friends with benefits

genre: smut / angst

Summary: He had a tough day at work, and needs you to help him blow off some steam. But maybe being friends with benefits was never a good idea.

Originally posted by professional-fangirling

There was something off.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but you knew there was something wrong. By the way Yoongi called you at an odd hour of the day, his voice laced with anger. You did your best to talk to him, and calm him down. But he just wasn’t budging. And you weren’t sure what happened.

You bit your lip, anticipating for him to walk through the door.

He abruptly hung up on you, muttering a loud ‘I’m coming over, wait for me’. You weren’t sure what he meant, or what he was going to do. But you knew it was going to be exciting.

This was how Yoongi was.

Whenever he had a stressful day, he went to you and blew off some steam. You didn’t mind, in fact, you enjoyed it. It proved that he saw you as someone he trusted.

Yoongi didn’t just have sex with anyone. He chose his partners very carefully, and you knew that. So when he first kissed you, you found it quite a surprise. But, over time, you both turned into friends with benefits. You said you wouldn’t catch feelings, and neither would he.

But time changes, right?

You never imagined yourself with someone like Yoongi. Someone so self-collected on the outside, but dying on the inside. You knew how much he was hurting himself over the small things, how much he stressed himself out just to make others happy. But, over time, he really started to grow on you.

You saw the small things in him. The way he would scratch the back of his ear when he got nervous. The way he would would scrunch his nose when he did something embarrassing. The way his laugh was cut into pieces, and only sometimes let out a sound.

Just thinking about him made your heart hurt.

Yoongi never imagined being with someone like you either. Someone so kind-hearted, and honest. He always thought he would end up with someone cold, just like him. But, instead, he found you. Someone so warm on the inside, and someone so beautiful that he swore it hurt his own heart when he saw you.

You saw things in him that no one else could, and that’s why he chose you out of everyone else. You understood him, even during his worst times. You got where he came from, and respected him as, not only an idol but also, a human being in general. You understood his passion for music, and you supported him through everything. You were there when he fell apart, or when he was stressing over small, or big, things.

He envied you.

On how you could be so understanding of everyone around you, and still keep yourself sane.

But one thing he didn’t know was that you were actually driving yourself towards the edge. You were suffering in more ways than one. You had no one to support you the way you support everyone else. Sure, you had Yoongi. But he was never around. But you knew how much music meant to him, so you painted a smile on your face. You couldn’t take away the one thing keeping him sane for your own selfish reasons.

You sat on your bed, letting out a sigh as the thought of Yoongi barging through the door filled your mind. As you still remembered how he felt against your skin. As you still knew just the exact way he smelt when he held you.

You weren’t sure you could do it anymore.

You couldn’t be friends with benefits with a man you were in love with.

You heard the door swing open, and your eyes shot open as you sat up in your bed. His eyes were dark, and he looked absolutely angered. But, even then, you still saw the beauty in him. You still saw a man you knew you loved.

You swore to yourself that this was it.

This would be the last time you would ever be with him, or even see him for that matter.

He ushered towards you, kissing you roughly as your back hit the bed. His hands were roaming over your body, lifting up his loose shirt that you were wearing that you found in your closet. He loved it when you wore his t-shirts, he thought you looked absolutely wonderful in them.

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The demon takes Adam’s body until Persephone reminds him that he never told the demon that it could. Adam’s so smart, such a problem solver, it’s odd that he didn’t figure this one out himself. Except. Adam’s body has never been his own. Adam’s grown up with his body being a thing for other people to use for their own purposes. Adam has spent his life dissociating from his body because he never knows when it’s going to betray him by becoming a target for another man’s rage. Adam has blacked out and seen his body taken over by that same rage before. He thinks, deep down, he is infected with it. It’s a disease he carries in his DNA, so of course the day would come when something evil unlocks that sickness and brings it to full effect. Of course the monster would use his body, him.

It takes a gentle reminder from a woman who saw inside him like no one else ever could, that you are not the demon. You can take control of your actions. You get to choose what you become, this is not your destiny.

The heartbreaking thing is how Adam was so quick to accept this was his destiny, without his usual problem solving analysis, without dissecting the causes and potential outcomes and other angles, without ever separating himself from the problem at hand and thinking, I can resolve this. He just assumes this is a thing he can’t control. But as soon as Persephone says it, as soon as he does choose control, realises that being a monster does not have to be inevitable, the demon loses its grip on him. And what a revelatory moment that must have been for Adam Parrish. To understand that even with his darkness, his infected, ugly genes, he has the power to choose to be something else.

And then he goes, fearless in this power, to see his parents and tell them he is no longer theirs. He can ask for some kind of association with them because he no longer is them. He can look his father in the eye and tell him he’s wrong because he’s no longer afraid he’ll see himself looking back.

God that whole arc is so powerful that when I think about it sometimes I stop breathing. The power in Adam Parrish is awesome - the dictionary definition kind of awesome: inspiring an overwhelming feeling of reverential respect, mixed with wonder or fear.

Adam fucking Parrish, man.

Imagine being Dean’s daughter and announcing to him that you are dating Jack.

“Him?” Dean’s rough voice broke the heavy silence that had set between the two of you “You are dating him?” he all-but-growled as he stared deeply in your eyes.

“Well, I- I wouldn’t say exactly dating yet, he’s not that familiar with the term and I’m-”

“Yet?!” Dean exclaimed, his voice coming slightly high-pitched “Yet? You mean this will keep going on?!”

“Well, yes dad of course it is!” you huffed, rolling your eyes “That’s why I am telling you, because this is actually important to me. And maybe Jack doesn’t quite understand the terms yet but I know that his feelings are real, that all of this between him and I is real as well.”

“Which again brings me back to my original question: Him?!” he looked at you with so much shock it made you groan and cross your arms over your chest.

“Will you try to be a little less surprised, please? I thought you’d be a little less shocked at your daughter-”

“Dating the son of Lucifer? Oh yeah!” he cut you off full of sarcasm and a hint of angst “Why the hell would I ever mind that (Y/n)?!”

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BTS Scenario | Fight [One]

A/N: Hi guys! It’s Admin Sunshine, thank you for supporting me. I’ll be re-posting my reactions & scenarios on my blog.

PS: All of my reactions/scenarios and fictions will be fixed and there will be new things added in.

Requested from Anonymous.

Warnings: Angst

One | Two

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The furnace is broken. When Nursey goes downstairs to do laundry, Dex has his toolbox out. There’s a smear of grime down the side of his face and smudges on his light gray t-shirt.

“What, no music?” Nursey asks, piling his clothes in the washer.

Dex shakes his head.

“How’s it going?”

Dex shrugs.

Nursey pours in detergent, turns the water temperature to cold, and starts the cycle. “Are you okay?”

Dex looks away. “I don’t actually know how to fix furnaces. I’m just guessing here.”

“Is there someone you can call?” Nursey asks.

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Punch | Sweet pea imagine

Request: Hey may I request a Sweet pea X reader. The reader is a northsider who dated Reggie. And it takes place the night of the fight. ( south side vs red circle) 

A/N: You didn’t specify what you wanted? So I just made something out of it, I hope you like it.

Jingle-Jangle, the stupid drug that ended your relationship. When you found out that your boyfriend Reggie was dealing the drugs you couldn’t believe it. Reggie could come off as kind of a jerk but he was sweet to you, you never thought he would be capable of dealing drugs. You had been devestated and had broke up with him.

That’s when the red circle came to be. Archie had some crazy vendetta and got the football team involved with it. He had thought of something called the red circle, it was basically some vigilanty group. You thought they were insane and did not want to get involved. You were done with Archie, Reggie and the rest of the football team. 

‘‘Don’t you think they are absolutely insane?’‘ You were talking to Betty about the red circle, she was also worried and thought it was a crazy idea ‘‘It’s ridicilous, I get that Archie is scared but this goes way too far’‘ You agreed with her, you were glad someone understood you and was on the same page as you.

You and Betty were going to visit Jughead today and you were excited to see one of your best friends again, you hadn’t seen him a lot lately due to him changing schools. You missed Jughead as you had been best friends since the beginning. You and Betty entered FP’s trailer. ‘‘We’re here’‘ Jughead greeted the two of you happily and introduced you to Toni who was there as well. ‘‘Nice to meet you I’m y/n’‘ You shook her hand and she smiled at you. Toni seemed friendly and you were glad that Jughead was making new friends.

‘‘Have you guys heard?’‘ Toni asked and Jughead gave her a glare, ‘‘Heard what?’‘ Betty looked at Jughead who rolled his eyes, he didn’t like that Toni brought it up ‘‘Andrew showed up on serpent territory, tagged a building with some red circle and than threatened some guys with a gun’‘ You looked at Betty in shock, she looked back at you equally shocked. ‘‘Archie has a gun?’‘ You knew that Archie was getting insane but this was a whole other level. ‘‘Sweet pea is going over there tonight to get back at Archie’‘ Toni chuckled.

You, Betty and Jughead were all a little shocked and definitely didn’t laugh along with Toni. ‘‘Sweet pea is going to attack Archie?’‘ Toni nodded ‘‘Who’s Sweet pea?’‘ You had never heard of this guy ‘‘He’s some idiot at our school who thinks that violence is the only solution. And he hates Northsiders’‘ You were worried now, if that Sweet pea guy only believed in violence, there was a big chance Archie would end up getting hurt.

‘‘We have to do something’‘ You nodded along with Betty ‘‘But how?’‘ Nobody had an idea, what were you supposed to do in a situation like this? ‘‘Toni do you know where they’re meeting up?’‘ Toni nodded ‘‘That big bridge you know?’‘ ‘‘Let’s go’‘ You all left to go to the place where the showdown was supposed to happen. They hadn’t started yet, so you were just in time. You saw Reggie and stopped, what was he doing here?

‘‘What the hell are you doing here y/n?’‘ You looked at the guy in shock ‘‘I’m trying to stop this what the hell are you doing here?’‘ He laughed ‘‘I’m fighting, there’s no way you can stop this’‘ He laughed again ‘‘You can’t do shit’‘ You raised your brow ‘‘Excuse me?’‘ He grinned ‘‘You are useless, you are not capable of doing anything sweetheart, you are just a pathetic person’‘ You looked at him in anger, why was he acting like this? And before you knew it, you had punched him in the face. Reggie fell to the ground and it felt oddly satisfying however it had started the fight. Serpents against Bulldogs were fighting while you made your way to Jughead, Betty and Toni ‘‘What happened?’‘ Betty came to you and looked at your hand, it was all bruised and definitely hurt ‘‘He was being an asshole and I had hit him before I even knew it’‘ Betty shook her head ‘‘You shouldn’t have done that’‘ You sighed, you knew that but it had happend and there was nothing you could do now.

‘‘I thought it was pretty badass’‘ You turned around. A tall raven haired guy looked at you with a grin ‘‘Sweet pea, pleased to meet you, and who may the badass princess be?’‘ You scoffed ‘‘It’s y/n’‘ ‘‘Well y/n I think you’re definitely something, especially for a northside princess’‘ He smirked and moved closer to your ear ‘‘You’re really hot when you’re angry babe’‘ He winked at you, you were oddly attracted to him and grinned ‘‘You have no idea babe’‘ He wrapped an arm around you ‘‘Feisty I like it’‘ You rolled your eyes with a grin, you liked Sweet pea. ‘‘Come on babygirl how about we get some ice for that hand’‘ You nodded ‘‘Let’s go’‘ You walked away with Sweet pea, he was just what you needed to get your mind off of Reggie and everything that had happened.

You saw Reggie looking at you and Sweet pea and you glared at him, still angry about everything. The two of you got to his motorcycle ‘‘Hop on princess’‘ You smirked and placed the helmet on top of your head. You held on tightly and drove away with him. You were angry at Reggie and what happened but you were glad you had Sweet pea to take your mind off of it. You laid your head against his back with a grin this was going to be an exciting night. 


Author: @knockknocksoosthere as a part of Exordia Academy with @kpopfanfictrash & @bread-jinie

Creative Content Contributor: @everybodykpops FOR THIS MOODBOARD THAT HAS ME CRYING

A/N: HUGE SHOUTOUT TO @baebae-goodnight for all her help and beta-ing soooo many times on this one. ILY.

Rating: M (cursing, mentions of death, explicit sex - first time)

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Word Count: 11K

Super Power: Essokinesis 

Summary:  Reality has never been kind to Minseok. Always, he’s been overlooked. Always picked last, always bullied by those larger than him. Until one day, he snaps. He imagines himself towering over his tormentors, striking fear into their puny hearts and dangling them from his palm. When he realizes they, too experience this distorted reality – things begin to change. No longer is Minseok nobody. The first time he steps foot on campus, people know who he is. He sees them whisper, sees them shy away and while he finds comfort in their fear – it’s lonely. When he meets you though, he finds you don’t look away. Perhaps there’s a reason.  

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Prompt: The Five Times the Losers Noticed Richie and Eddie’s Feelings and the One Time They Decided to Do Something About It

Suggested by: @lukemybieber

Pairings: Reddie, Implied Menverly, Implied Stenbrough

Trigger Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Swearing, Referenced 1933 Movie, Boys Kissing, Referenced Pasta Hair, This is pretty innocent tbh basically no smut

Aged Up Characters!

All Eddie Kaspbrak had ever wanted was some peace and quiet. Unfortunately for him, he had an eternal headache and his name was Richie Tozier.

The wise-cracking, ‘your mom,’ joke-spewing, ADHD-ridden ball of child neglect, nicotine cigarettes and alcohol. He loved him more than words could describe.

He always, always kept his window unlocked should his parents get so drunk they couldn’t stand straight and ended up passing out on the kitchen table amidst a puddle of hard liquor. His father was a hostile drunk, but he was mostly away fucking some woman named Jeannie in Nova Scotia. Because of that, his mother was usually sleeping off a hangover, only to cure that hangover with either more booze or screaming profanities at the boy himself.

He’d met Richie’s dad once, didn’t look a lot like him other than the eyes and blindingly pale skin. He was internally very grateful for that fact.

What he was not grateful for was his motor-mouthed best friend obliviously telling Eddie every fact about airplanes, probably more than anyone else had ever figured out, and doing a bad imitation of the blades whirring with his mouth. In the process, he’d spit all over Eddie’s math homework, who Richie himself was supposed to be helping him with. And it’d suddenly turned into a dramtic reenactment of the end of the King Kong movies.

“So then the blonde lady is all ‘help me somebody save me!’” He screeched in a pitched voice, throwing an arm over his forehead, “And King Kong is like 'nobody can save you now! Bwahahaha!’”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stared at the problem. What is x if y is equal to the airplane shooting at– dammit Richie.

Stan would be over to help them study as soon as he got out of the synagogue for prayer with his father, at least then he figured he may get something done.

“But then the girl is like 'bitch you THOUGHT,’ and she like totally annihilates him, but there are airplanes in the background and she doesn’t– are you even listening to me, Eds?” Richie broke off his incessant chatter to scan Eddie’s face, to which the younger boy rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah, riveting shit, really.” Eddie scoffed sarcastically, reading over the problem for the fourth time. As he was staring at the paper, it was suddenly stolen from him by Richie.

“Math? Math is stupid, math is boring! You know what’s not boring? King Kong.” Richie laid down on his stomach to inspect the worksheet.

“You got number seven wrong. Y should be fifty-nine point three, see you forgot to carry the one.” Richie showed him his own paper and pointed out his mistake. Eddie nodded and reached for his paper, but Richie pulled it away at the last second.

“Ah- ah- ah. No more math until I finish my story.” Eddie reached up, but Richie was both faster and taller. He rolled over and laid on his back, the paper underneath him.

“You jackass! Give it back!” Eddie’s brilliant solution to the problem was to throw his legs over Richie’s stomach and try to reach behind him for the worksheet. Richie’s only goal seemed to be keeping the paper beneath him, shoving Eddie father and farther back until he was straddling his crotch. They were both so caught up in tickling each other and laughing, they didn’t notice the door swing open and Stan’s shocked face holding an Algebra textbook tucked under one arm, his bird naming book under the other, and a box of pizza in both of his hands.

He cleared his throat loudly, and it was at that moment that both boys realized the position they were in. They slinked away from each other, red-faced and embarrassed, but Stanley never said a word. He simply set the pizza box on the bed, opened his math book and never said another word about it.

That was, of course, the last week of freshman year.

And they managed to stay away from another situation like that until the spring of sophomore year in high school.

Right up until mid-July, at a 50’s style diner towards the outskirts of Derry, which they’d basically all adopted as another hangout spot.

“She is a snake! She is a liar, a scumbag, a piece of shit, the lowest of the low-”

“All because she gave you a B- on your writing quiz, because your handwriting is illegible. Seriously! Even I can’t read it sometimes, Trashmouth!” Eddie groaned, sipping his vanilla milkshake while Richie ranted to him about their writing teacher.

“Well if she wanted a legible report on the Vietnam War she should have asked us to use a typewriter! Ah say, ah say, it’s bullshit, good sir!” Richie faked a British accent, which Eddis had to admit was getting at least a little bit better.

“Do you even own a typewriter?” Eddie questioned, though he was only slightly annoyed and wished Mike would just hurry up and get there with Richie’s latest X-men comic that he’d borrowed, because it was basically the most important thing in Richie’s life at the moment.

“Big Bill does! He doesn’t let me use it though, because last time I typed 'Henry Bowers is a shit-spitting sissy boy,’ and was gonna make copies to hang all over school. He didn’t think it was the best idea, but I think it would have been fucking hilarious. Can you picture the look on his face, Eds?” Richie was always coming up with ridiculous and random ideas that were normally completely half-thought out and he had no real intentions to follow through with them.

Eddie scoffed and his eyes flicked to the door yet again. Mike still had five minutes, they knew he wouldn’t be late. Mike Hanlon was never late.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with Richie, he obviously did. But ever since the end of middle school, something seemed to have shifted between them, like the balance of the universe was… off. For starters, he realized he thought about Richie the way Ben talked about Beverly, or Beverly talked about both Mike and Ben. He could tell that ever since she and Bill had decided to stop their childish crush before it became serious, that yes, they still respected each other, but Beverly seemed to be in a constant battle between Mike and Ben. It was a little weird, but not as weird as the way only one person came to his mind when Ben recited his newest poem about love, about how when you think about the person, your heart seems to flutter, how you feel like you could spend forever with them, and it still wouldn’t feel like long enough.

But he realized that boys weren’t supposed to feel that way about other boys, and his mom would go apeshit if he told her.

He smiled and moved over to sit on Richie’s lap, which took him by surprise, but he was not unopposed to. Eddie sat on Richie’s lap all the time at the Barrens, whenever he was afraid of his allergies acting up or he just wanted to be closer to the boy.

He leaned with his back towards the wall, one arm resting across his shoulders, one in his lap. Neither of them talked. It was a comfortable position for both of them and neither wanted to break the comfortable silence radiating throughout the air.

Not many other people hung out in the diner, that was what made it so special. It was like their very own little hideout, a secret kept from the rest of the world, except the regulars, of course.

They heard the little bell on the top of the door ring and he scrambled off Richie’s lap, but not before Mike saw. He pretended like he didn’t, though, so he was looking up when they saw him.

He faked seeing them and put on a bright smile, waving to them and holding the comic to his chest, watching as Richie’s face lit up. Stan had told him about something like that at the end of freshman year, where they were just comfortably… on each other, like it was the most casual thing in the world. At first, Mike had just assumed they were affectionate friends, but during the meal, he could see the two boys flicking anxious glances between one another and he realized there could be more to the story.

And again, they never spoke of it, because talking about it would make it real, and what was there to make?

Eddie was merely sixteen when he needed to get his wisdom teeth removed. It was both an emergency surgery and an important moment in his life, so naturally, he called on his three best friends to make sure he was okay after the surgery.

Bill Denbrough, who had been his best friend since childhood, taught him how to ride a bike and never made fun of him or his illnesses, Stanley Uris, who always knew what to do with the rather frequent anxiety attacks he had, and of course, Richie Tozier, because Richie was the most loveable damned idiot in the world, and there would never be a scenario where he was not there. He wanted to bring the other losers, but the doctor said any more than three people was too much.

The surgery went well, despite his anxiety over it. It only became a problem when he was wheeled into the patient room in a wheelchair, giggling like a madman with cotton in his mouth.

“He’s high!” Richie squealed with genuine joy in his tone.

“Stanley!” Eddie suddenly screamed, eyes fixed on the tall, Jewish boy. He smiled goofily, his eyes unfocused.

“Stan… Stanley, c'mere.” He motioned for him to come closer. Stan looked between Richie and Bill, who shrugged.

He bent down near Eddie’s wheelchair and smiled softly.

“Hi, E-”

“You have pasta on your head!” He reached out to grab Stan’s hair, but a now-frowning Jewish boy bat his hand away.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” Stan grumbled, looking away. He began giggling again.

“Where’s Bill? I love Bill!” Eddie’s eyes peeled curiously around the sterile waiting room.

“I’m ruh- right here,” Bill spoke up, leaning down onto his knees and the side of the wheelchair. Eddie reached a limp hand onto his face.

“I love you, Bill. You’re my best friend! If anybody asks I’ll say… I like my best friend Bill… but-” His eyebrows furrowed in thought, “But I love my best friend Richie.”

“Aw, Eds. I always knew you loved me!” Richie came up from behind Bill and sat on the other side of Eddie’s wheelchair.

He removed his hands from Bill’s face and brought them softly to Richie’s.

“Mm- hmm…” He hummed softly, dreamily. His fingers combed through Richie’s untamed curls, thumbs finding themselves underneath his glasses.

“I like your face… I like your eyes, and your hair… and glasses. But… I also like your jokes. Sometimes they’re funny…” Eddie whispered, his fingers brushing against Richie’s lips. His eyes were transfixed on them, the pink, chapped, peeling mess they were.

“You think my jokes are funny, Eds?” Richie’s voice came out awkwardly pitched, and neither of them noticed Bill watching the exchange intently. He almost felt like he was interrupting a private moment between them.

“Yeah… sometimes. I don’t like the ones about my mom, though. That’s gross.” Richie grinned, then Stan came in the room and they helped Eddie out of his chair and to the car.

He was heavy and he wasn’t walking right, so they had to balance him between them, Bill unlocking the car while Richie and Stan walked on either side of him with his arms pulled around their shoulders.

When they got in the car, Bill was driving, Stan in the passenger’s seat, and Eddie asleep against Richie’s shoulder in the back.

Bill had never seen them act so quiet and… intimate towards each other before. It was strange, but if it made them happy, Bill was unopposed.

During the summer of Junior year, everything became too much for Beverly again. She ran as fast as she could, feet slamming against the pavement, to get to Richie’s house. She just needed to see him.

She swung her leg over the tree branch close to his window and leapt off onto the roof, knocking quickly on the glass with her fist.

The light was on, so she was sure he’d be home, and there was a soft murmering on his side. She saw a shift in light as he drew back the curtains, and the second he saw her bruised eye and busted lip, he pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, Beverly…” He sighed, with pity in his tone. When it was quiet, she could hear a soft sobbing and feel another presence in the room. She turned her head slowly to the side to see Eddie, with red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks running down his face.

“Eh- Eddie?” She choked out, peering through misty eyes at him. She heard Richie heave a rattling sigh.

“Yeah, I have two of you tonight. We can watch a movie if you want, but please clean off your lip first, I can get you some ice from the fridge.” She nodded quickly, because if Eddie wouldn’t ask questions, neither would she.

She went to the bathroom and splashed some water on her face, hoping that she’d feel better. When she went back to the room, Richie had pulled Eddie onto his chest and the shorter boy had nuzzled his head right underneath his chin. He was silently crying about something, mumbling 'It was bullshit, Rich, it was all bullshit. She lied to me, she lied.’

Richie was comforting him with soft assurances whispered into his hair and his hand rubbing soft circles in Eddie’s back. She sat on the bed next to them, a feeling settling in her stomach. They turned on a movie– Ferris Bueller’s Day Off– and Eddie fell asleep against Richie almost instantly. He’d wrapped his arm around her shoulders and then she didn’t feel so alone.

She was woken up when Eddie woke up, not because he was crying so much as just to push himself off of Trashmouth and go back to sleep pretending nothing ever happened.

They were eighteen when Ben finally saw them as well, except it wasn’t as innocent as the other times, in fact quite the opposite.

They’d all been planning to meet at Mike’s house for movie night before they all had to leave for college. It would have been alright, had Mike not left them to their own devices with the TV. Of course they would argue about what show they’d watch and neither would settle.

Ben was just walking into the house, not trying to be scarred by the image of one of his best friend’s heads pressed against the other’s crotch, but his wish would not be granted, as when he turned into the living room, that was basically the position they were in.

They said it’d happened on accident and both of them turned bright red when Ben noticed. He never got a clear explanation of what happened, both boys seemed to completely deny it, making up some excuse about a remote or something like that.

He had absolutely no idea how that was a viable excuse, but he’d learned from his friends it was best not to talk about the tension between them.

Richie tried to play it off with a cheap dick joke and Eddie beeped him and hit him upside the head.

“So Ben… how’s it going with… Beverly?” Eddie attempted to distract. Ben blushed and shook his head, because he didn’t want to think about the time he, Mike, and Beverly had hung out together and he’d not-so-accidentally kissed both of them.

Soon enough, Mike came into the room with Star Wars on VHS and they all settled when Bill entered the house. He always did have a calming prescence.

They’d all sprawled out across each other, Beverly in between Mike and Ben on the couch, Stan leaning his head on Bill’s shoulder, Richie with his head on Eddie’s lap. And Ben couldn’t forget how their faces were red as cherry tomatoes and they both kept flicking anxious glances over to him.

It wasn’t like they cared much, nobody really did, but it was still a compromising position.

It was finally college, the last night the Losers would be spending together, all together at least, until they left Derry and by extension, each other. It wasn’t all bad, Bill, Stan, and Mike managed to get accepted into the same college, which was only fourty miles away from Beverly’s and fifty away from Ben’s. Richie and Eddie had also managed to get into the ssme college, but it was a whole different state away from the other’s.

They’d all decided to get drunk and play seven minutes in heaven in Ben’s closet. All night, Eddie had noticed the Losers were acting sort of strange, all except Richie. He tried to tell himself it was just because they were drunk or upset because of college. He didn’t either of those excuses.

The way they played the game, it was sort of a mix between spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.

Whoever the bottle landed on was who you had to go into the closet with. Eddie had at first landed on a drunken Bill, who spent their whole seven minutes gushing about Stan’s face.

A few other turns passed, and then it was Richie’s turn. And he landed on Eddie. Eddie held his breath as Richie guided them into the closet and slammed the door shut.

They both just stared at each other for a few soul-crushing minutes. And then Richie spoke up.

“Well come on, Eds. It’s seven minutes in heaven. I thought you’d be all over this.” Richie gestured obscenely. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Beep beep, Trashmouth.” But it wasn’t said with the usual annoyance, because suddenly Richie was coming towards him, and he intertwined their fingers together, slowly pushing Eddie towards the wall.

Eddie’s heart was racing so fast he was sure Richie could sense it.

“This is fine,” He muttered, because he did that a lot, tried to convince himself that things were alright when he was on the verge of screaming with emotion. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, though, and Richie took it as the go-ahead to press his lips against Eddie’s.

The kiss was soft, his lips were chapped, but warm and gentle. He didn’t try to force his tongue down his throat, the way Eddie’s mother had always told him kisses were.

It was just… innocent. Everything was quiet around them, it was dark, but everything felt like it was glowing around him. Richie bit Eddie’s lips softly, their breaths becoming the only sound in the room. He picked Eddie up by his thighs and Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss, because that was what they wanted.

They just kept kissing, coming up for air every once in a while, but not talking. Not ever talking. It had obviously been way longer than seven minutes and Eddie wasn’t even sure if the Losers were out there anymore. So that had been their plan, try to get them drunk and making out. It’d worked.

They didn’t want to talk about what happened, and when Richie looked, they’d been in the closet for a whole twenty minutes. None of the Losers commented on their messy hair, or the hickey on Eddie’s collarbone.

The Losers knew how to get them together better than they did.

Taglist: @toziertrashmouth @s-s-georgie @childishsoup @beep-beep-richie-trashmouth @beep-beep-gazebos @ithinkthe4thkindisabuttthing @trashmouth-reddie Bolded means I couldn’t tag you.

Richie Tozier hasn’t spoken a word to anybody since he came to Derry in the middle of the school year. Until he talks to Eddie Kaspbrak.

Previous chapters: Chapter one

Chapter two.

The next time Eddie sees Richie he smiles. There is something that pulls at Richie’s lips in reply, but afterwards he simply turns his head in the other direction. Then that’s it. For the rest of the school week, Eddie waves to Richie between classes, but Richie doesn’t respond at all. He seems more tired, more bored and disinterested, like talking with Eddie the first time took too much effort and now he needs to charge up. Eddie tries not to let it get to him, but it’s hard; he’s spent all this time wondering about Richie and then finally he gets something, and then—it stops. Each time they pass, it’s as if Richie doesn’t even know Eddie is desperately trying to interact.

Keep reading

bts | slow hands

author’s note: my original plan for this was how the boys would react/help you if you were having a bad day, but then i thought about their comeback and how tired those babies must be and i hope they’re taking of themselves and each other; so long story short, have the reverse of that idea instead
disclaimer: all gifs are credited under each boy’s name as cr.; none of the gifs used here are my own, they are simply cropped for uniformity and easy reading
warnings: lots of fluff, jimin is a brat

cooking for him • cr.

“Jin? Baby, wake up, you have to eat something,” you gently rock him awake. Jin slowly wipes the sleep out of his eyes and cuddles further into the blankets.

He hates feeling sick. As the oldest, he feels it’s his responsibility to take care of the others, but he can’t do that when he’s sick. He’d much rather be helpful than helpless.

But he loves being babied by you. Jin would never admit it, but loves the attention, the care, the concern in your eyes. Maybe this is why Jungkook likes being the youngest so much, he thinks. He understands that you’re there for him twenty four seven, in sickness or in health, but he’s particularly fond of your motherly tendencies when he’s under the weather.

“Did you make soup?”

When you nod your head in confirmation, it’s as if whatever bug has been biting at his immune system has suddenly vanished, and he perks up. You chuckle, because Jin truly is a child at heart, and shake your head, “Sometimes, I feel like you’re only dating me for my soup.”

He playfully shrugs his shoulders, and sits up. This is his favorite part of the routine after all. Is he taking advantage of his situation? Perhaps, a little, but it’s okay, he loves you all the same.

He just loves you a little more when you feed him.

“You know you’re 25 years old, right?” you tease, but continue to spoon him soup, nonetheless.

“Hey, you can’t call me old, I’m sick,” he protests.

“Hello, sick, nice to meet you.”

Jin pauses, slowly swallowing his food and looking at you like a child looks at a jar of cookies. “God, I love you.”

playing with his hair • cr.

Unless you have the unfortunate displeasure of attempting to start a conversation with Min Yoongi on one of his bad days, it’d be hard to tell he was having one in the first place. Not because of his (over exaggerated) indifferent attitude to most things, but simply because Yoongi would rather keep everything to himself and deal with it himself; it’s his battle to fight, or so he claims. But, if you look hard and know him well, there are little traits that stand out amongst the worst of days.

He walks a little faster. He seems to be in a rush to get to do something or get away from someone. His usual cute waddle is replaced with storming purpose and it’d be unwise to step in his path, even if, you claim to be his saving ray of sunshine, Jung Hoseok.

He sighs more frequently. Whether it’s out of frustration or fatigue is dependent on the situation, but you can hear the little exhales all day long if he chooses to stay and work in his home studio.

He eats less and drinks more. Add about three extra cups of dark roast Americanos to his usual diet and subtract one full lunch.

He doesn’t reply to his texts. Contrary to popular belief, Yoongi is quite good at communication; he believes it’s a vital part of understanding another person and maintaining any kind of relationship. So he usually responds in a timely manner (unless he’s sleeping), and is good at holding conversations. But unhappy Yooongi is dead to world.

Finally, the tell-all that Yoongi’s been having a bad day, is that when he comes through the door, or finally leaves his studio for the day he has only one thing in mind; he finds you seated on your couch, takes the empty spot next to you, carefully places his head in your lap, and gently guides one of your hands to his head. With gentle fingers combing through his tousled hair, suddenly, the sighs of frustration and fatigue and transformed into those of relaxation. And, sometimes, he thinks, he doesn’t have to go through everything alone.

So now that you know the signs of an unhappy Min Yoongi, be sure to implement the cure if he’s ever too stubborn to come to you first.

massage • cr.

Hoseok often joked that he was an angel—your hope, your angel, to be more precise—and rightfully so; the boy has a smile so bright it rivals the sun, and an undeniably bright and brilliant personality that can pull anyone out of the darkest of days.

“How are you so good at this?” He moans, relaxing further into your touch as the balls of your hands massage his shoulders.

“I’m not, you’re just really tired and delusional,” you smile at him through the mirror. He sends one back.

“Hm, maybe,” he hums, eyes fluttering shut, “Or maybe you’re an angel.”

“That would you be you, my love,” you kiss the top of his head.

But as Hobi’s eyes flutter open and he looks into the mirror image in front of him, he’s thinks that he has to be correct. Because who else would come to his practice studio at quarter to eleven at night bearing fried chicken wings, Sprite and a massage?

He watches as you continue to massage the knots and kinks in his shoulders and back and thanks every deity there is for putting you in his life.

His bigger hands reach to stop yours, and gently guide you to his front, allowing you to straddle him. He’s beautiful, you think, cupping his cheeks, and admiring the little moles and scars that little his makeup free face. You’re beautiful, he thinks, taking in the way you manage to glow this late into the evening.

“You have to take care of yourself, Hobi,” you whisper.

“I know, baby,” he smiles, heart-shaped and heart-stopping, “But you’ll take care of me when I don’t, right?”

You smile back, nod, and gently peck his lips. Because even the sun has to go down at the end of the day.

running a bath • cr.

You almost don’t want to tear him away from his work. He’s so immersed in whatever it is he’s doing, his eyebrows creased slightly, eyes alert; and he’s so pretty doing the most mundane of activities, it’s unfair. But you know that he’s been working on his newest project for ten straight hours now, and a break is past due.

“Joonie,” you coo, “come on, you said you’d take a break two hours ago.”

Namjoon sighs, pushing his chair away from his desk and holding your hands as they snake around his neck from behind. “I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you correct him, “You were working hard. So I have a surprise for you.”

“Baby,” he frowns, “I’m not done, yet.” He tilts his head in the direction of his computer screen.

“But you’ll like the surprise,” you pout, knowing well he, for some odd reason, finds it endearing and irresistible. “We talked about this, Joon, you have to take a break and—”

“And take care of myself, and not be so hard on myself, I know,” he sighs. He turns his head to look at you and smiles, finally pulling away from his desk and swiveling his chair around to fully face you. His hands find their way to your hips and pull you closer, thumbs gently caressing your sides. “So what’s this surprise?”

You smile, slowly straddling him, “It involves you and me—”

“I like it already.”

“—And a bubble bath!”

Namjoon smiles, teeth showing as he throws his head back in laughter. That was definitely not the ending he was thinking of, but it’s a lovely one all the same, “You’re so cute.”

“I know,” you grin, “Now come on, the water’s getting cold.”

washing his hair • cr.

“Park Jimin, if you moan one more time, I swear,” you threaten, slapping his exposed shoulder.

He giggles. An innocent gesture that he somehow manages to make slightly sexual. Of course. 

“It feels good though, baby,” he claims, sinking deeper into the water. He can feel you rolling your eyes behind him, but once the hand you used to slap him is back in his hair, he smirks again, closes his eyes and relaxes further into your touch.

You’re not sure when washing Jimin’s hair became a tradition, but all you know is that Jimin manages to make something as innocent as washing hair sound sexual; and all Jimin knows is that it’s probably one of his favorite things in the world after a long day.

Jimin loves bring out his daring, sexual prowess on stage, but you know that behind that cameras is your soft, cuddly, big baby of a boyfriend. And you don’t mind washing his hair; for some odd reason it’s relaxing for you too, you get to spend time with Jimin, and not to mention he has great hair.

Your fingernails gently scrape his scalp as your run your hands back. Jimin lets out a grunt this time and turns his body slightly in the water, positing himself so that his face rests against your right leg. His smile is cheeky as his kisses the inside of your thigh.

“Chim,” you warn him. When he doesn’t listen you, pull on his hair to seize his mouth.

It doesn’t work, because this is Jimin we’re talking about. “Kinky.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And you’re the best, baby, you know that?” He purrs, littering your thighs with kisses. Here we go again.

You’re about to scold him, but he pushes your hands out of his hair and takes your wrists in his own, not caring that they’re soapy. “Come on, why don’t you get in the tub and let me wash yours.”

kissing his hands • cr.

One of Taehyung’s favorite thing in the world is watching movies with you. Not because he’s particularly fond of films; because despite his interest in most things art and renaissance related, film fluency is not one of them. He doesn’t like sitting still for extended periods of times, or having to follow a meaningless, cliché love story, or a drawn out, over exaggerated horror plot. But he likes watching movies with you, next to you.

All he has to do is wait about twenty minutes in—and he can sit still and pay attention that long, that much he’s sure of. Because twenty minutes in, your hands reach for his and hold his own. No matter what’s going on on the screen, no matter what kind of movie is playing, no matter the fact that his hands are double the size of yours. You always (subconsciously, he concludes) reach for his and he relishes in it.

And sometimes, if he’s lucky (and he’s praying tonight is one of those nights, because today has not been one of his best days), you slouch into his side a little bit, closer to his chest, able to hear his heart beating admist the dialogue; you lace your fingers with his, bring them to your lips and kiss his knuckles.

And he always smiles. You never look, never have to, but you know it’s happening, and he knows that you know. Because when that happens, Taehyung always pulls you a little closer, a little tighter, and gives you a little kiss on the top of your head. It’s his favorite silent exchange of I love yous, especially after a long day.

So, no, Kim Taehyung isn’t particularly fond of watching movies; but he really likes them with you.

little spoon • cr.

“Alright, talk.”

Jungkook turns and tilts his head towards you. He feigns innocence, but you’re no fool.

Jeon Jungkook is a lot of things—he’s loud, a prankster, an amazing singer, kindhearted, easy going, fun-loving. If there’s one thing Jeon Jungkook isn’t, it’s quiet. So when your Jungkook walked into your shared apartment and made no efforts to pull you away from your book, tickle you, play with your hair—no attempts to annoy you at all, you suspected something was the matter. Your suspicions have since been confirmed, seeing as it’s been two hours and Jungkook had been blankly occupied with his phone, having not uttered a single word to you apart from “hello.”

“It’s nothing,” he blushes, when he realized he’s been caught he goes back to paying attention to his phone.

Jungkook pays you no mind until you’ve snatched his phone, hid it in your back pocket and cupped his face. His eyes wander until he realizes he can’t avoid you. He lets you walk him to your room and when you both sink into the bed, he let’s you take on the roll of being the big spoon, curling into your side like a worn-out puppy.

“Talk to me, Kookie.”

He sighs an cuddles deeper into your side. He explains his problems and the source of his stress; he listens to the rise and fall of your chest and suddenly the world doesn’t feel so small, his problems don’t feel so big, and he’s no where near as stressed. He must be the luckiest guy in the world, he thinks, to have seven hyungs and an incredible girlfriend to take care of him.

Jungkook looks up at you and gives you the softest smile, and an even softer kiss to your jaw.

“I love you.”

The Virgin and The Sex God: Chapter Seven- Dean x Reader

The Virgin and The Sex God: Chapter Seven

Summary: Dean finds out you’re a virgin and begins to try to charm his way into your pants. Little does he know he’s about to fall in love.
Word Count: 2,009
Warnings: Sexual Content.  Language.

Originally posted by frozen-delight


I’m so addicted to all the things you do
When you’re rollin’ round with me in between the sheets
Oh the sounds you make, with every breath you take
It’s unlike anything, when you’re lovin’ me…
From Addicted by Saving Abel

You groaned as you awoke the next morning- you and Dean were a tangle of limbs.  He had you smashed to the edge of the bed with one heavy leg slung over your hip.  His arms were interlocked around your upper shoulder.  Basically, you were trapped under The Mr. Sex God.

“Ughhhhhhh.”  You groaned as you tried to move, but your head simply bobbed back against your pillow.  “Jesus.  He sleeps like the dead.”  You grumbled as you finally accepted your fate.

You glanced over to the side table when you heard your phone buzzing.  Trying desperately to reach out, you found that your reach fell just short of being able to get to the phone. Your eyes narrowed when Dean began to snore softly in your ear.  You turned to look at him with malice as his snoring grew louder. This was going to be the longest morning of your life.  

“DEAN!” You hissed as you shook his arm.  “DEAN! WAKE UP!”  

Dean groaned a little in his sleep but didn’t budge.  Sighing in frustration, you began to try to wiggle out of your prison.  You managed to get one arm free and used it to prop yourself up.  Your phone was still buzzing, and you had to figure, it was your friend calling.  You had said you would be half-way back to Virginia by now.  Finally freeing your other arm, you crawled upwards and Dean’s arms ended up around your waist.  You rolled your eyes when he never even flinched.  

You grabbed your phone and took note that it said you had ten missed calls.  You cringed as you saw the text messages from Charlotte.  She was now threatening to send in the brigade if you didn’t answer her.  You chuckled to yourself and pushed the call button.  It didn’t even get to two rings before Charlotte was barking at you on the other line.

“Where the hell are you?!”  She screeched. “I was about to send everyone we know to look for you!!!”

“I’m sorry Char. We are still at the motel in Kentucky.” You answered meekly.

You pulled the phone away from your ear as she began to berate you for not calling her.  You took it all in stride- being a hunter meant having people worry about you continously.  You were surprised when Dean began to stir awake, but then again Charlotte’s voice was enough to wake the dead.

“What’s going on?”  You heard Dean groan loudly.  

His voice caused Charlotte to stop mid-sentence and let out an unholy squeal.  Your eyes widen when you figured out what was about to come out of her mouth.

“DID YOU GET LAID?”  She screamed happily.   You could feel her jumping for joy on the other end of the phone.  

“Char!”  You  chastised her. “That’s not funny!  You know I’m with Dean Winchester.”

“Ummm.  That’s even fucking better!  That man looks like he can fuck!”  Charlotte mused as  

you cringed at her words and then cringed even harder when Dean started laughing.  You wanted to go crawl in a hole and die somewhere.  

“And then there’s that little crush that you’ve had on him for like the last five years…”  Charlotte let slip.   Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at this revelation.   When the hell had you ever said that?!

“Charlotte Greene!  Don’t make up lies to embarrass me!” You hissed into the phone.  You went to turn it off speaker but a hand came up to stop you.  Your eyes wandered to Dean and he was looking at you with extreme interest.  Dear Lord in Heaven, could someone just kill you: Now!

“Pssshhhhhhh.  I’m not lying.  You’ve got it bad for that man.”  Charlotte chittered.  “You’re always talking about how good he looks when you’re drunk.  How’d you like him to…”  

“OKAY.  THANKS FOR THAT.  I’ll call you later Char.”  You hissed as your face turned a cherry tomato color.  She simply answered you with a devilish giggle before saying her goodbyes.   You buried your face in the pillow not wanting to face the consequences of that conversation.

“Oh Y/N….”  You heard Dean say in an almost mocking tone.  You groaned and tried to curl into a ball.  Dean snacthed you and pulled you into him.  You made that mouse squeak sound that you always made when you were nervous as you were once again trapped in his arms.  Dean’s strong embrace calmed your embarrassment, but you still wished the earth would swallow you whole.

“Don’t worry sweetheart.  I’ve had a crush on you for a long time, too.  I’ve just been too stupid or afraid to admit it.”  You heard him say as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck.  You shivered at the touch and bit your lower lip.  Your denial had been strong for years, but your lips were always lose when you were shitfaced.  You never let yourself get that drunk around anyone but Char.  You trusted that girl with your life and you would never lie to her.  Even when you were drunk.

“Dean.  I guess I should tell you something.”  You murmured as your hand gripped one of his arms.  “I think I do like you. I think I would sleep with you….  But, I’m afraid.”  You whispered.

“Oh sweetheart, there’s nothing to be afraid of.  I want to take you places that no other man ever has or will take you.”  He groaned as he pressed himself closer to you.  You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh.  You swallowed hard and flinched away from his embrace.  It wasn’t that you were afraid of sex- you were afraid of losing him.  Just like you lost Jacob.

“It’s not that.  I’m not afraid of sex. I mean I have no idea what to do…  But….  That’s not why I’m afraid.  I’m afraid that we’re going to fall in love.”  As the words left, you felt the thickness in your throat.

“Me too, sweetheart.  Me too.  But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”  Dean said as he pressed his lips to your forehead.    Those words broke all the resolve that you had.  All the years of built up emotions came pouring out of you in a swift river.  The sob that ran through you made you cling to Dean like he might disappear.  These feelings were too much for you.

“Dean.  Please just promise me.  If this doesn’t work out.  That we will still be friends.  I need you.  I need you and Sammy in my life.”  You murmured as you pressed your face into his bare chest.  

“Like I told you before Y/N.  You will never lose me.”  

You nodded slowly before bringing your lips up to brush over his.  You were almost completely a virgin to kissing as well.  You had only ever kissed one other guy and that had been almost eleven years ago.  Dean groaned at the contact and snapped his hips forward.  His throbbing erection brushed along your leg and he grunted at the slightest contact.  You smirked a little wanting to give Dean a little preview of what was to come.  

Your hand gently slipped between his thighs as you caught his clothed erection in your hand.  So maybe you weren’t completely a virgin.  You had watched that porn that one time.  Though you supposed that wasn’t the best comparison to real life.  You shook your head and swallowed back the fear.   Being afraid got you nowhere.  Slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you gently slipped them down his legs.  Dean couldn’t control the the volume of his moans as he awaited your touch.  

Your breath hitched in your throat as you sat up.  Dean’s cock bounced free and stood rigidly at attention.  Blushing scarlet, you moved to touch him but the anxiety that moved like a knife through you was too much.  Bouncing up and off of the bed, you nearly fell on your face.  

“I-I-I can’t…”  You mumbled as you brought your hands up to cover your eyes.  You felt incredibly embarrassed you had even tired.  “Sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  

The bed groaned under Dean’s weight as he stood up to hug you.  You blanched when you felt his erection press into your stomach as it was trapped between the two of you.  

“Don’t apologize sweetheart.  We can take this as slow as you need.” He said as he pressed you closer to him.  You nodded slowly and kept your eye gaze upwards.  If you looked down you felt like you might die of embarrassment.

“Ummm..  Dean.  Do you think you can put your boxers back on… Please?  I would like to be able to look at you and not that water stain on the ceiling.”   You squeaked when you felt Dean shifting slightly in order to get some friction.  He groaned half in agony and half in compliance.  Waiting for you was worth it, but damn he needed to jerk off again.  He wasn’t sure if anyone had died from having an erection for too long, but he wasn’t about to find out.

“OK, baby girl.  Why don’t you go to your room and get ready?  I’ll take you out for lunch….  Just give me twenty minutes of alone time and I’ll be good to go.”  He said with a wince.  You had bounced forward on your tiptoes and your breast had brushed his chest.   

You blushed again when the thought of staying and watching crossed your mind.  Though, you quickly dismissed it- the thought making you queasy.  You didn’t begin to know how you were going to actually sleep with Dean.   Now that you had sort of worked through your feelings, you were still left feeling insecure and bashful.  He had been with a lot of women and you had only kissed two men.  Your experience was obviously lacking, but it was your confidence you were most concerned with.  How could you expect him to want to sleep with a quivering pile of nerves?  

Slipping next door, you made your way to the shower in order to get ready for the day.  You stopped dead in your tracks when the ringing groans from the too thin walls caught your ears.  Dean’s moans of your name cut straight through to you.  

“FUCK!” You groaned as you quickly turned on the water in hopes that it would drown out the dirty thoughts.  Stripping off your clothes, you allowed the scalding water to take you away from your thoughts of Dean.  At least your lewd ones.

A smile played on your lips as your replayed the last few days.  The relief you felt was immense and overwhelmingly beautiful.    You could finally admit it to yourself and the world.  

You had feelings for Dean Winchester.

Once you were out of the shower, you grabbed your rummaged through your bag.  Bringing out the trusty flannel and leggings combo, you quickly got dressed before running a brush through your hair.  You onced yourself over in the mirror before shrugging.  Dean had seen you hungover and half-dead before so this was actually an improvement.  You laughed to yourself when a knock came from the adjoining door to the rooms.  

“You can come in, Dean.”  You called as you pushed your hair out of your face.  He walked in with a beaming smile on his face.  He gave you a loving  look and you shifted from side to side to calm your nerves. The man was going to make you a nervous wreck if he kept looking at you like that. 

 The look like no one else existed but you.   You reached and scratched your head.  That nervous tick left over from childhood.   Dean closed the space between you and gently grabbed your hand.  Placing a kiss on the top of your hand before making your heart squeeze in your chest once again.

“So…  Where does my girl want to go for lunch?”  

You smiled brilliantly at his words.   They came as no shock this time, but as a welcomed term of endearment.

That was right…  You were his girl.

AN:   :D  Hope you enjoyed the update.  Sorry this update took a little longer than excepted.  Life happened.  Please be aware that the smut finally begins next chapter and that the several following chapters are pretty much just smut as reader well….  gets to enjoy Dean.  ;)

  Feedback is greatly loved.  Please leave a comment if you have time.  I will be back with an update on Tuesday.  See you then and enjoy your week!

You can read all my work at my MASTERLIST.

Much Love,

Tags are under the cut. If you want to be added to the list please send me an ask.  Sometimes tumblr is a cunt and eats my notes.  I might not see your comment.  :)  I’m going to close the tag list for this series after a few more updates.   If your tag doesn’t work please let me know.  I’ll try to fix it.  It might help if you follow me if you are aren’t already. 

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Unpredictable | Stanley Uris

rating: t (for language)
pairing: stanley uris x fem!reader  
requested: Hii, could you please do an imagine where the reader is Richie’s twin sister and she is as smartass/trashmouth as him but more on the flirty side to Stan (bc she secretly likes him) and always does things like be super touchy and try to kiss him as a joke just to piss him off until one day he grabs her face and kisses her in front of everyone? Sorry if this was long, I love your writing!

His head turns to the side, attempting to avert the others gazes, but the sudden rosiness of his cheeks gives him away. You chuckle, pretty damn satisfied with yourself. “Geez, Stan, I didn’t know you liked me that much.” You state, earning a snort from Beverly and an eye roll from Ben. As usual, Stan remains silent, obviously annoyed with your constant teasing. You probably annoyed him more than Richie, and that in itself was saying a lot. The only difference was that you took the teasing to a more flirtatious level. Truth be told, you were good at making Stan Uris blush. Watching him become flustered and cheeks turn bright red was somewhat rewarding. It was the fact that you had that effect on him. No one else, only you. You were the only person in Derry that could make Stan Uris become flustered and embarrassed, and you loved it. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

prompt for a hc maybe?? richie going missing and eddie doesn’t stop looking for him and when he finally finds him, he admits he was planning something cute

Eddie paced back and forth in front of the quarry, kicking stones with his Converse-clad feet and watching them splash into the water. He checked his phone. Richie was supposed to meet him there 2 and a half hours ago but, clearly, had forgotten their plans as usual.

Eddie sighed. He wondered why he always put up with Richie’s shit every day. With him making crude jokes, standing Eddie up, teasing him, calling him “Eds” despite how much Eddie hated it (even though, secretly, he loved it. But he wasn’t going to tell Richie that).

He rolled his eyes and began walking away from the water and through the trees to the street. He couldn’t be bothered waiting anymore. If Richie wasn’t going to bother putting effort into this relationship, than neither was Eddie.

But Eddie stopped as he reached the middle of the street. 2 and a half hours? That was definitely a longer amount of time than usual when Richie forgot their plans. Normally Eddie would wait half an hour or an hour, and eventually Rich would show up. He’d be huffing and puffing and out of breath, and Eddie would offer him his inhaler to steady his breathing. Richie would shove the inhaler away and hastily kiss Eddie, telling him how sorry he was and how much he loved him and that it would never happen again. But the very next week, it would.

But that was 30 minutes, or an hour. Eddie certainly had never ever waited more than 2 hours for his boyfriend to show.

Panic set in at the sudden thought of something bad happening to Richie, and Eddie began running. He didn’t even think of running home to get his car, or simply trying to call Richie on his mobile. He just ran and didn’t stop until he reached Richie’s feral looking apartment building. He found the apartment number 20 buzzer and rung it repeatedly, praying for Richie’s voice to come through the speaker like usual with an “oh, fuck! Eds, I’m so sorry!” But after anxiously swaying his body from side to side for a few minutes, Eddie came to the conclusion that Richie wasn’t at home.

He wasn’t at home?

Where else could he be?

Eddie wracked his brain, then began running towards the first place he could think of - Bill and Stan’s house. Again, the thought to go and get his car never even entered his mind. All Eddie wanted to do was find his boy. To know Richie was safe.

He was thanking God that all of the losers houses were close by as he rushed down Bostik Street, raced up Bill and Stan’s driveway and began knocking on the front door with so much force that it felt as if his knuckles may bleed.

“Stanley?! Bill?!” Eddie shouted, followed by another series of desperate knocks.

“What’s up?” Stan asked in a rushed tone, the door almost hitting the wall after he’d ripped it open.

“I don’t know where Richie is! He was supposed to meet me at the quarry hours ago and he’s not at his apartment! I feel like I’m losing my mind, Stanley, I don’t know where he could be! Have you seen him?” Eddie’s words came out of his mouth so quickly that Stan almost missed them. But he’d caught enough to know the gist. He didn’t know exactly where Richie was, however he did know that he was with Bill. But he was sworn to secrecy by the trash-mouth himself. So instead of having the weight of a lie resting on his shoulders, Stan decided to answer Eddie’s question in a way that let him tell the truth without actually giving away where Richie was.

“I haven’t actually seen him today, Eddie,” Stan answered honestly. I think he might have been with Bill, but I don’t know where they went.”

“Oh, God. They could be anywhere!” Eddie exclaimed. He thanked Stan for his help and began running once again. To where, he didn’t know. No thoughts other than finding Richie were entering his mind.

Stanley checked his phone, a message from Bill popping up with a simple “ready!”

“Hey, Eddie!” Stan called out. “Wait up, I’ll drive!”

The two boys drove around town in search for their loved ones. Stan was telling the truth when he said he hadn’t known where Richie and Bill went. Well, that was until Bill texted him the address. His tight grip on the steering wheel never loosened for a second as they drove down the streets of Derry.

“Where do you think they went, Stan?” Eddie asked. He was a lot calmer now. Stan had put the radio on and 80’s hits played softly throughout the car, greatly reducing Eddie’s stress levels.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Bill forgets to tell me everything,” Stan laughed. “He’s so damn absentminded sometimes.”

“But, you’re married?” Eddie said, confusion laced in his tone. “Married people tell each other everything, don’t they?”

“Marriage isn’t always about telling each other everything, Eddie. It’s about trusting each other enough to know that you don’t have to tell each other everything. You don’t always have to know where the other person is, because you trust them enough to know that there’s no need to worry. It’s about coming home at the end of the day and having that one person there that you can share whatever you want to with. And knowing that, if you don’t want to share anything about the day with them, you don’t have to. You can just sit on the couch in silence, and it doesn’t matter. Because you’re still with them.”

“Wow,” Eddie gasped. “That’s… Kind of, really beautiful, Stan.”

“Yeah, Billy turned me to mush,” Stan chuckled. Eddied laughed along with him in agreement, not realising the road they were headed down until Stan had parked the car.

“Why are we at Derry High?” Eddie asked. He gazed out at the old building which he had graduated from 5 years prior, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion.

Stan smiled brightly at him. “Go to your year 7 English class.”

“Wha- why? What’s going on?”

“Just… Trust me here, Eddie. Go.”

Eddie nodded and reluctantly stepped out of the car. He threw his short legs over the old rusted front gate, then began walking into the school.

As he wandered the hall, memories of himself and the losers club came flooding back: fights with Henry and the Bowers gang, making out with Richie against the lockers, jokes and banter going back and forth between the group. It made Eddie feel nostalgic, almost like he missed this hellhole.

He kept going down the hall until he reached classroom 50A, his old year 7 English room. It was the only room with the door closed and, when he opened it to be greeted with nothing but darkness, the only room with the blinds down.

Eddie peered back down the hall to see that Stan’s car now contained both himself and Bill. They both smiled at Eddie before the car disappeared and Eddie was left alone to the dark classroom.

“Rich?” He asked quietly. His fear of the dark kicked in and Eddie quickly reached his hand out to the left, struggling to find the light switch. Once he did, he was greeted with a plain old classroom. The whiteboard read “Welcome to year 7 English with Mrs. Clarin!” Eddie chuckled, remembering that that’s what was written on that very same board all those years ago.

He walked further into the empty classroom. “Richie?” He said again, this time slightly louder.

He walked over to Richie’s old desk and chair in the very back corner of the classroom and sat down. A white piece of paper was lying on the desk, fresh ink scribbled on it. Eddie picked it up and read it out loud: “if u r reading this then it means u r in my chair. get out looser”

A sudden realisation hit Eddie. This was the exact note that he had read back in 7th grade. He’d sat down in this very chair, and read this very note, which caused him to move a seat to the right. And seconds after he’d read the note in year 7, Richie Tozier had walked into the classroom and sat in that back corner chair.

Eddie looked up as he heard the door creak, and in walked Richie. He had a stack of random year 7 books in his hands, and was wearing  the same shirt he’d worn on the first day of school.

Eddie laughed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re in my chair,” Richie said, gesturing to the desk that Eddie was currently occupying. “Get out, loser.”

Eddie giggled and moved out of Richie’s old seat and into his own. “What’s all this about?”

Richie took a deep breath in and smiled. “Do you remember the first time we ever met?” Eddie nodded. How could he ever forget? “It was right here. In these very seats. After you read that note and saw me sit here, it looked like you were gonna shit fucking bricks, Eds.”

The two of them laughed as they remembered the day so clearly. “You were terrifying back then, Rich.”

“Hey, I still am!” Richie protested. “Anyway. The second I saw you, I just felt something. I didn’t know what it was back then. Course, then I found out I was fucking gay when I was 15 and everything made sense.” Eddie would have laughed, but for some reason this felt more serious than Richie usually was. And he also was waiting for Richie to explain why the hell they were in their old school.

“Look, I’m not great with words,” Richie said as he stood up from his chair. He grabbed Eddie’s hands and pulled up the smaller boy, keeping their hands intertwined as he continued talking. “But the second I saw you, Eds, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Eddie gasped as he realised what was happening, and tears began welling up in his eyes. As he looked into Richie’s, he could see tear drops threatening to escape the taller boys too.

“And when I look at you now, I know more than ever how badly I want that. Eddie, please marry me?”

Eddie didn’t say anything. He just nodded his head and the tears from both boys came rushing out. They wrapped their arms around each other as sobs of happiness wracked through their bodies.

“Yes, God, of course,” Eddie whispered into Richie’s ear. He pulled out of the hug and grabbed Richie’s freckled face in his small hands and pushed their lips together. They moved in sink for a few moments before they needed air and pulled apart, though they continued crying.

“That’s why you stood me up?” Eddie chuckled as he wiped the tears from his face.

Richie nodded, laughter escaping his mouth as he too wiped his face with his arm sleeves. “Yeah. Well, Bill was supposed to pick you up at the quarry to take you here, but I fucking slept in and then I forgot to tell you I wouldn’t be there. It’s hard work planning something cute!”

“You idiot,” Eddie laughed.

“I can’t believe you want to marry me.”

“God. I can’t believe it too.”

madametaureus  asked:

45 for victuuri please 🙏

Viktor isn’t even supposed to be in Detroit today, and it’s frustrating that such a seemingly-small snowstorm has grounded him in the motor city for the “foreseeable future”. Six hundred flights out of Metro Airport have been cancelled already, with more forthcoming, including Viktor’s ride back home. Yakov is somewhere in Saint Petersburg, pulling out his hair and screaming.

Viktor isn’t even supposed to be here. But the moment he sees Yuuri–almost six years to the day since the last time he saw him–his heart stops, and he experiences a brilliant, stunning moment of religion. 

Dear God. Maybe everything does happen for a reason

Viktor sees him through the large picture windows of a hotel restaurant and bar. He’s sitting with maybe four or five other people, all of them business casual like they’ve just gotten off work. It’s seven PM on a Friday, so that’s very likely the case. It’s also the Friday before Christmas. The lights on Woodward are casting festive shadows and Yuuri is wearing a large and comfortable sweater. There are poinsettias along the bartop every six feet or so. A large artificial Christmas Tree has been set up in one corner of the sparsely populated restaurant. 

It’s been six years. Yuuri has grown from the timid boy Viktor knew in college–his shoulders always closing in, his eyes always averting–and into a gorgeous man. He looks easy in his skin, although not completely void of a certain heightened self awareness. But as Viktor watches, standing in the falling snow like some idiot from a B romcom, he sees Yuuri laugh and drag a hand through his hair–a far more stylish cut than he wore when Viktor knew him–and realizes that he’s grown up

Of course, as Viktor’s luck as of late would have it, Yuuri turns around just in time to see Viktor mooning. His eyebrows shoot up and Viktor sees him say Viktor? but can’t hear him, for obvious reasons.

His friends look up, too. Viktor doesn’t know if they’re friends Yuuri had in college. He doesn’t recognize them, but that doesn’t mean much–Yuuri never really introduced him to his friends, in the few short months during which they dated.

There are three men aside from Yuuri, all of them dark haired and looking to be around Yuuri’s age–which would mean late twenties now, Viktor supposes. The one closest to Yuuri says something to him, casting a strange glance in Viktor’s direction. Yuuri nods, and the other man sets a hand on Yuuri’s leg.

Viktor thinks he understands what was said, then, even if he couldn’t hear it.

Viktor as in your ex-boyfriend?


Yuuri, to Viktor’s surprise, rises from his seat and walks across the restaurant. Viktor, against his better judgement, meets him in the breezeway.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says, casting a casually appraising gaze over Viktor’s person. “How are you? I can’t believe it’s actually you. What are you doing here?”

“Photoshoot,” Viktor says, shuffling his shoulders in an effort to seem nonchalant. “I was supposed to, um…I was actually supposed to be out of the city already, but…the storm.” He gestures outside, where the snowfall has yet to really pick up speed–but it will, he’s been assured by weatherman after weatherman, sometime overnight. 

“Oh,” says Yuuri, sparing only a brief glance outside. When his gaze returns to Viktor’s, it’s calm, but unsure. Yuuri used to practically vibrate with intensity. Too much emotion and not an outlet with which to express it–too scared of his own shadow to speak his mind. Viktor supposes that a lot changes with time and age. 

“You look good,” Viktor says, because it’s very true–practically an understatement–and it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Um. Healthy. You look like you’re…doing well.”

“You too. I’ve seen a couple of your spreads. The one in–in Vogue, that was really nice.”

“Oh,” Viktor says, and he wonders if the cold-flush on his cheeks will hide his blush. “That’s…nice of you to say.”

“I’m glad that…everything turned out well for you,” Yuuri says, smiling. It’s an earnest smile, if sad. “I was really–I never stopped wanting good things for you, even after you broke up with me. I hope you know that.”

Viktor can’t help himself–he physically takes a step back, as if punched or slapped. He blinks hard at Yuuri, who’s now staring at him in concern like he’s afraid Viktor is in the midst of a stroke.

“Me?” Viktor says slowly. “I? I broke up–broke up with you?”

Yuuri’s brow knits. “Yes?”

“Yuuri, you broke up with me,” Viktor says, shaking his head. “You ghosted me for like two weeks and when I finally got tired of it and went to your house, your sister answered the door and told me I wasn’t welcome. How is that me breaking up with you?”

“That was after you broke up with me,” Yuuri says as his expression furrow even deeper, progressing from slightly confused to definitely pissed with alarming deftness. 

What are you talking about?”

“Viktor, you all but outright said you didn’t want to stay with me. How am I supposed to interpret that, aside from as a break-up?”

“When!” Viktor says. He knows they’re drawing attention to themselves, because Yuuri’s voice is raising and his own hands are doing wild things around his head, but he can’t help himself. “When did I ever say anything like that!”

“It was–I can’t remember, I think we were–were in bed.” Yuuri blushes, and Viktor watches it travel up his ears and down his neck and feels that old, familiar stab of want that Yuuri Katsuki has somehow always inspired in him since the day they met. “And I said–I told you I–I said something like…I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. And I knew it was early, and I would have understood if you had just said–that’s nice, or something, because–yeah, I knew we’d only been dating for, like, eight months. I knew it was too soon to say something like that. But all you said was I’ve never wanted to spend my life with anybody, and then you practically got up and ran out the door.”

Viktor’s eyes widen. He remembers the day in question. He remembers it with perfect clarity. It’s the kind of thing that plays on repeat in his head when he has nothing else to think about, in frayed sepia tones like an old movie. “No. That’s not–that’s not what I said. Or at least, not how I meant it. And I didn’t–I didn’t run out the door. I told you I had something to do. That I had to go do something.”

“How else was I supposed to interpret that?” Yuuri asks, and now his voice is back to the low hush he was using before. More sad, now, than angry. “I said the most–intimate thing I’d ever said to another person. Ever, in my life. And you left.”

Viktor shakes his head. “Yuuri, no.”

He holds up a finger, practically touching Viktor’s lips. Insistent, but gentle. “It’s okay. I understand. I wasn’t–I wasn’t the most stable person back then. I wouldn’t have wanted to tie myself down to me, either. It was probably smart, what you did.”

Viktor opens his mouth to protest again–and he plans to keep protesting, until he can make Yuuri understand how wrong he is–but the restaurant side of the breezeway opens, and the young man from before, the one who put his hand on Yuuri’s leg, steps in.

“Hey,” he says, wrapping his hand gently around Yuuri’s arm. “You good?”

“Yeah,” says Yuuri, nodding. “I’m…fine. This is, um…” he turns his head away, and attempts surreptitiousness as he swipes a tear from the corner of each eye. He clears his throat, turns back. “Phichit, this is Viktor Nikiforov. You probably know who he is.”

Phichit nods, and holds out a hand. Viktor shakes.

“Viktor, this is Phichit. I…work with him.” With the glance that passes between them, Viktor knows that their relationship must be more than a working one.

“Ah,” Viktor says, nodding. “I…understand.”

Yuuri says to Phichit, “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute. Tell Guang-Hong to stop gawking, he’s going to sprain his neck.”

Phichit chuckles, and Viktor sees his knuckles tighten on Yuuri’s arm in a squeeze. “Alright.” To Viktor, he only nods.

When he’s gone, Viktor looks back to Yuuri and asks, “Does he treat you right?”

Yuuri frowns. “What?”

“Is he good to you?”



“…Of course, but–”

Viktor nods, pulls his scarf tight around his neck. “That’s good. That’s–I’m glad. I’m going to…Um, goodbye, Yuuri. Merry Christmas.”


Yuuri reaches out a hand, but Viktor grabs it–takes it between his own, and kisses it, then sets it back at Yuuri’s side. 

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri.”

Yuuri bites his lip. “Happy birthday, Viktor.”

Viktor, despite himself, smiles as he walks back out into the cold.

Back in Saint Petersburg, the first thing Viktor does upon arriving home–aside from picking up Makkachin from Yakov’s house, and touch base with his agent who is absolutely losing her mind–is go to the bottom drawer in a seldom-opened dresser in his closet and dig past the contents–mostly memrobilia of college; pictures, old school supplies, a couple of documents pertaining to his first couple of modeling gigs–until he finds a small box. It’s blue velvet, the inside is satin, and on the center of the cushion is a ring.

Viktor vividly remembers the day he bought it. He remembers how excited he was, almost frantic. 

He remembers Yuuri being gone when he returned. 

Several hours later, Viktor is four shots into a bottle of vodka has the open ring box next to him on the table when his phone vibrates.

The text is from a number that isn’t listed in his phone, but it reads:


I hope it’s okay that I never got rid of your number. I don’t even know if this will work. You might have changed your number, but I had to try.

I don’t know what happened between us. I never really have. But I know that we’ve both done a lot of growing the last six years and I think, maybe, it would be good for us both if we got together and talked. 

I know your schedule is busy. Mine is too. But I really want to talk to you. It may sound stupid, since we only dated for a few months in college, but I’ve missed you a lot. Maybe the feeling is mutual. If it is, please consider what I said.


(Oh, by the way…Phichit isn’t my boyfriend.)

The sound Yakov makes upon discovering that Viktor is returning to Detroit less than twenty-four hours after he left is legendary