#imagine their kids bein friends <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dallasgallant]

Ok so it’s @your-unfriendlyghost w/ that goddamn Ao3 comment 🥲

For whatever reason, Ao3 keeps sayin that “We can’t upload your comment because the content is blank” when it like. CLEARLY ISN’T. I dunno what’s going on with that, so I’ll just paste it here 😭

(This is the comment I woulda commented on chapter 2 btw lol)

“Well, twenty-five just makes ya a delinquent… you ain’t a ‘juvenile’ then, man, it don’t got the same ring to it, ya know?” Steve muttered. < Damn, this is SUCH A GOOD LINE. It’s so real, yk? Like I know I personally get swept up in the fantasy of it all- of greasers and JDs and the adrenaline of teen rebellion- but someday (pretty soon now) I’ll grow up. And then it won’t be so fun anymore. For all the lousy stuff that comes with it, it’s fun bein a kid- But when I’m an adult I won’t be a cool rebel for pulling the shit I do now, I’ll just be sort of a loser. I dunno how to process that sometimes. But it’s nice seeing all that confusion put into words as succinctly as you did.

Was that it? Their only two options? Lose your life or your identity? Die young, hard and fast — just like everyone’s waiting for. Or grow up and watch your denim collar turn blue. <Ugh again this is painfully real. You capture the feelings of being a sorta wild teenager so damn well. And the line about denim collars turning blue is so like…poetic too. It’s real and also real pretty, yk?

Steve had never been particularly fond of the idea of aging, but he didn’t want to be a bum like Two-bit or a con like the Brumly boys. He realized when morning came, none of them would mention tonight. Not how it really was. <This is such a sad but significant insight. Both bits are- Steve’s acknowledgement of the fact that the future is coming, and the point that no one would talk about tonight- or at least not the real, raw, tragedy of it. You just don’t DO that, especially not as a group of teenage guys in the 60s, but even nowadays you don’t, least in my groups. And how can you? How can you make sense of that, of seeing something so gruesome and being so helpless…holy hell, I guess what I’m getting at is that this was a real observant point.

Their tears would be buried alongside their friends, and they’d come to accept some twisted narrative that served to make them feel better, instead. That’s what he’d do; make it about justice rather than loss. Feed his anger into some kind of action. He’d always been better with his hands than his words. <man I sound like a broken record here, but this is so real. I don’t like how true this rings. But like I do, yk? And god, it feels like so much of a STEVE thing to think, and a Steve way of saying it. You’ve really nailed his voice.

Anyhow, sorry for takin’ a minute to comment- after ao3 deleted the vast majority of my last one I couldn’t bring myself to type up anything substantial for a bit- but I needed to get it out at some point, because this is such an amazing fic. This bit of commentary just scratches the surface, because there’s so much I love here. Once again, great job.

Ahhhhhhh thank you, I honestly love this so much. Taking the time to point out these little details and things you relate to. It’s djsjsnsms glad people notice this stuff you know?

Not to make you have a comment get deleted on ao3 again but would love to hear chapter 3 thoughts or anything else you want about the fic lol. Love your insight.

—

I get that. I tend to romanticize the rebellious, both teen and adult. Idk maybe it’s because I’ve had a comfortable life and all but there’s also so much to go through and experience.

I’m glad this line is getting attention as I was really excited about being all poetic too! Lol, it seemed like the most expressive way to put it without having to over explain, I can’t even begin to imagine having to grapple with putting up such a distinct identity… though I imagine you’d have to pry the vest from Steve’s cold dead hands but we’re talking metaphorical.

Steve and the brand of masculinity all the guys are seeped in is such a fucking interesting thing to explore. Because there’s simultaneously so much fun with all the “boys will be boys” of it all but also… oh… you don’t know how to feel hard emotions in a healthy way.

Also just Steve has grown on me so much and I think it’s really being in his head and it’s he’s more than the best buddy and he has his place in the friend group. His loyalty and sensitivity may compare him to others in the gang but what’s great about him and them is that there’s other aspects that make even those emotions distinct to them.

[skyblueartt]

Yapping again, are we?

I have so many ideas for a fun little “nobody dies” fnaf AU because I am in love with these characters ughhhghhghhhh. I love tragedy and drama and dysfunction, but also…let’s give the gang a bit of a break from that. Imagine!!!!

Charlie and Elizabeth as teenagers and BESTIES. I have SOOOO many thoughts, I treat these girlies like they’re my damn OCs at this point :’))) I made a whole ass headcanons post and everything ahhaha, they’re everything to me byeee

Also also ALSO Mike, in his 20s, totally lives with his “roommate” (take that in any way you want) Jeremy !!! Michael discovering his passion for art and selling some drawings/paintings on the side. Maybe he went/is going to school for art? Hmmm. I just really love Michael’s hobby being art (self projection). Jeremy being his fun, chill, supportive, stoner roommate and friend/boyfriend/whatever you want

Also just CC/Evan not dying as a little kid is just. Just so nice, dude. That kid deserves a good life ughghhhg. Maybe as he gets a bit older he’s faced his fears about those animatronics :) I’m imagining he’s like, a pre-teen or young teenager here. “Haha, dad, do you remember how these things used to give me NIGHTMARES? Crazy”

Maybe if William isn’t insane (well— not in the “I’ve taken the lives of several children and lost myself completely” insane, but he’s ABSOLUTELY still eccentric and weird but in like. A good way. I LOVE villain william though, he’s my fave don’t get me wrong hehe) him and his ✨🏳️‍🌈BUSINESS PARTNER and BEST FRIEND🏳️‍🌈✨ Henry just. Explore their feelings because they’re down bad for each other for SURE. I need middle age man yoai but make it not toxic- or not as toxic. Like I LOVE LOVE LOVEEE the tragic dynamic between those two when Will is a fucked up murderer, but damn dude this is supposed to be a happy AU here lemme have this😭

Also just Henry watching Charlie grow up <3 my soul like. Needs that, man. And just bein a cool uncle to the Afton kiddos!! Going to Mike’s highschool graduation, he’s SO proud, that’s his boy! Bonus points if other kids are like “yo Mike, who’s your dad’s boyfriend? Hahahaaha” and Mike’s like “that’s my ‘Uncle’ Henry and he’s actually really fuckin cool so shut up” (and also my dad’s boyfriend)

Also. William just…being a dad. I need this, man. I need it. UGH! DAD WILLIAM! NOW! And Henry never falling into a deep deep depression or emptiness because his little girl was never uhhh brutally KILLED. Pleeease

[dollhouseirl]

((These are early palette choices being mulled over for the character "Bucket Farce" by the highly super talented and incredible @lotus-start!!! This is his first game apparently??? I can't believe that. Everyone ever ask this wonderful person for help except leave space for me to do so sometime okay???

Bucket Farce is the OOC of Plot Twists and will be appearing for the first time in Purple Prose. He can be considered to be a kind of trickster or chaos god.)) """"""Hi hi hi hi hi hiya!"""""" Whammo. Got 'em in one, heh heh. Never let 'em predict your first move, that's what I always say JUST KIDDING! Pow! Got 'em again.

Six of me at once. Some people would call that a crying shame (like <a certain famous funnyman voice> mY wIFE) but you know you love it or, plot twist for ya, you're gonna. 1: "So which one of us is gonna take the lead?" 2: "I dunno, I thought you were." 3: "HE was? But I thought it was gonna be ME!" 4 (They Call Him...Mister Blue): "Pretty sure it's gonna be me and all y'alls are gonna frighten off the ladies. 5: "Pretty sure it's 'hoes' around these parts. Y'know, scaring the hoes, not good." 6 (Call Him Mister Less Blue): "Don't call them hoes! In this house! We! RESPECT WOMEN!" This could've gone on for a while if I wanted it. You guys don't really get it. I'm good at this kinda thing. Too good, even. My buddy ol pal ol friend always says, "Bucket, my good best buddy in the whole wide world," (imagine he says it but sadder, my pal, he's gotta get more Vitamin D), "you're too good at this. People do not like it. You should be singular like me." I'm singular. I'm lookin' to mingular, if you catch my drift. 4: "Okay but seriously. They're looking at us funny. This is too much. Humans, they don't like staring down at six different flavors of dude." 3: "Well it sure isn't going to be you, 4, aren't you an unlucky number?" 4: "I am? Where?" 2: "A beautiful country of some kind. Am I the only one who's done any of the homework before manifesting?" 1: "Mmmmmmmmmmmaybe." ^_^; 5: "I hate to see it (homework)." -_- 6: "Uh, wait, but guys, in fact, I shouldn't even be saying guys-" 4: <looking like he's starting to either see or be a bit of a snack> Is anyone else thinking of walking cheeseburgers? Or is it just me? I also just really, really think this is my color. What do we all think? 1, 2, 3, 5, 6: ............................................. I stood around in a circle, in formation, ignorant of you guys watching me because, to be honest, like, I'm a funny little guy, aren't I? If I'm not amusing you yet, I will. I'm just bein' a little silly. I clean up the mess I've made without blinking an eye or having a thought. I'm me. My nature is discerned precisely as I wish for it to be. I have a secret fundamental to the universe itself and they tell me it's a real doozy! Six of one, half dozen of the other, ultimately ultimately though... 4: <after a long silence> Yep. Just a silly little guy. We can call me...Mister Blue, no no no wait, I say in response to a withering glare and sigh from my friend, my buddy, the OOC of Endings you can't see him he's off camera. That guy is always being so serious, sigh, I get it. 4: Let's take this from the top! Hiya hiya hiya cuties! How's it going! My name is Bucket Farce! With that, I take a bow, deep down to the floor. I form my adorable face into the most profound expression I have observed on my way towards this weird little place with so many weird little people to do weird little things with. 4: Let's have fun together! :3 I promise nothing weird will happen at all!!! ------------------------------------------------- Kind of a rough idea. Still experimenting with how it feels to be around these guys. You'll all see some of that in the finished VN. Bucket Farce is someone for whom physicality and form are suggestions. He is a shapeshifter. The only rule he follows is that he must always have a head and that head is always covered in a bucket. I'll leave to your imagination what all that could mean but it does mean it is as nothing to him to be six people at once and to just as quickly be just one person.

He identifies as a 'he' but it is a shorthand and matter of convenience. In truth, he could be anything under the bucket and has just chosen to identify as a silly little guy as opposed to something boring or profound or difficult to explain. He is a cute character with some amazing sprites in store. I believe one inspiration was Dimentio and that Lotus has spent time in Sonic fan spaces as an artist. I believe that all shines through clearly here for a character I hope will be memorable when you all meet him. ^^ As always, stay tuned. I share as I get things to share and we're really picking up on the way towards the July 1st deadline for the jam.

[bcolfanfic]

“if anyone else was mean to josie she'd lose it. only she's allowed to do that. and she's real protective of the other kids in the gaggle too. loves them so much (just like curt loves the guys) and likes being with them a lot more than she likes being with school friends. feels like they understand her better, and are just better people in general than the stupid kids she goes to school with.”

This is so freaking sweet ☹️ I love the thought that the guys’ kids love each other like the guys do and after everything they’ve all been through I can imagine how emotional that makes them to see?

it makes *me* emotional ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹. but yeah the guys too. overall bc it’s just so overwhelming that after all the shit they went through, during the war and after, that it really all worked out for them. they got their happy endings (in the bigger picture of things- obv it’s not all sunshine and rainbows with the kids as we know lmao).

but another aspect of it is that. *they* became friends under dire circumstances. sure some met and became buds in basic/tech school before bagram. but it was all leading to becoming close because of sharing a huge trauma. it makes em real (,: that their kids were all friends from day 1. didn’t meet and bond in a war- just got to grow up as friends in a nice, comfortable happy life with each other.

bonus bc it didn’t fit in the grid, found this sorta callum vibes guy on pinterest and my first thought was it bein’ john and meadow <3

[euclydya]

part 7 of these sorry it's Late we've been. sleeping all day,

61. When did you first discover your System? - 3/13/2010. That's the date we realized somethin was Off. But we found the words fer all of this about 4 years later. The only reason we remember this date is cuz heartgold n soulsilver dropped in america on the same day HAHASHSJDJFND (which By the way. yes we did preorder both of em. and picked em up that day. best ds pkmn game tbh we need to beat our hg file fhdjsjchc)

62. How many Members did you know about during your Syscovery? - Bout 8 or so I think? We refer to these guys as The OG Crew shdjdjdjsfj

63. Was accepting your Plurality a challenge for you? - Oh no finding the words fer it all and learnin that there were others out there like us made us SO happy, it showed us that we weren't broken or anything

64. How did you learn about Plurality? - through a goddamn. Callout post?? lmao????? Someone said something about someone else's headmate doing a thing and our host at the time was like Wait. Pause. The fuck's a headmate. And. Well,

65. Where there any signs of your Plurality, if you look back at your past? - OH YEAH LMAO we were very imaginative and had a lot of starmates as a young kid it turned out and we'd openly talk about em too. Of course family thought we meant imaginary friends but imaginary friends don't control your body alongside you or make comments on how to live yer life y'know? We never did tell anyone that part though. lmao.

66. Do you think your Syscovery changed a lot in your life? - I mean. Yeah. Realizing we're plural was one of the best things that coulda happened to us I think. Cuz then we didn't feel like a fucking weirdo lmao

67. If you're out to others as plural, have they ever told you later on that they already thought about it before you realised? - No lmao we're friends with like one person who knew us before our syscovery and she's never said anything of the sort before, afaik anyway

68. What was the biggest struggle during your Syscovery? - shrugs. hell if we remember tbh

69. Was there any big event that led to your Syscovery? - Not... Really no. Or if there WAS we'd since forgotten about it. Our memory for all of that year starts at 3/13/2010 tbh.

70. What is something you want questioning plurals to know? - Fucking,, listen. If someone tells you you're faking or like. says anything Negative about the possibility of you bein a system? Kill them.

[blade-liger-4ever]

About the X-Men's Place in Marvel

So I saw a post or two about how people say you have to read/watch the X-Men as if they were a separate entity from the wider Marvel Universe. These posts also brought up how it "doesn't make sense" to have the mutants discriminated and hunted by the powers that be in every telling of the story.

I have some solutions to that - all of which won't be accepted by the companies in charge of Marvel/the X-Men for some years.

Step 1: Establish that mutant discrimination is rampant primarily/only in the cities.

Have snippets throughout the Marvel Universe where the big cities like NYC, Chicago, Seattle, and all those types have various reports demanding laws against mutants, or restrictions placed upon mutants solely because they're "inherently violent", or "studies show mutants are naturally volatile and a danger to society", or what have you. Furthermore, with how these cities are renowned for broken families, domestic abuse, and high crime rates, the likelihood of a mutant kid falling in with a gang or other bad apples is through the roof. They'd be proving these narratives right, as well as fueling the "studies" done by those in power in the cities.

The reason you could and should do this with the X-Men is how mutants, as the "next step of humanity", prove the notion of transgender to be folly by their sheer existence. Follow the science, gender is a construct, etc, right? Well then, why were these kids born with powers and not the other half over here? Logically, some biological factor is at play.

But that means the "experts" would have to acknowledge biology as fact. So, to keep up the smokescreen of "there is no definition of a woman", they'd have to throw the mutants under the bus and label them as an aberration in the gene pool. Heck, you could go to town with Trask if you went that route.

Step 2: Have the rural parts of America at most wary of mutants, and indifferent at least.

Anyone who has lived in the American South or even the Midwest knows that you've got all manner of people there: whites, blacks, Indians, Asians, mixed race - the list goes on. Those same people also all tend to be part of a community that sees past the skin color and accepts them as family, so long as the individual - regardless of race - is an upstanding citizen and doesn't have a severe criminal record (i.e. hasn't raped or abused others). However, while it's a welcoming environment and open to all manner of community activities, these locations are still full of abuse victims, drug dealings, and trafficking.

So, when mutants are discovered in the South or Midwest, the parents and others in the community have to make sure that Johnny across the street isn't a mutant because 1 his father is an alcoholic who beats him, 2 his mother is a drug addict and has been in jail so long no one remembers what she looks like, and 3 he's a known delinquent. If he has powers, who's to say he won't use that to take his anger and pain out on the town? And then there's little Suzy down by the courthouse. She's got loving parents, good family and friends, but can be pretty arrogant. If she gets or already has powers, what's to stop her from trying to go out and be a hero? Or worse, if she picks a fight with the wrong guy, will she be used as another example of "the Mutant Menace"? And my own kids, they're bein' taught right, but what if they get the same idea if they turn out to be mutants? Or what if they have a temper tantrum, and the cops come and take them away?

There's a lot more to think about when you put mutants in that perspective, now isn't there?

Step 3: Have there be a clear line between anti-mutant sentiment and pro-mutant sentiment.

Think of the pro-life and pro-abortion policies for a moment. We all know there's two sides, one saying "life doesn't begin until X time" (pun not intended), and the other saying "life begins at the moment of conception."

Now, throw mutants into the mix.

Imagine a woman who has been raped. She's traumatized, and aware that she's now pregnant with her rapist's child. Add on to the factors of her life - single, full or part-time job, on her own in a city - and not only would the doctors tell her to abort the child, but add, "Besides, what if it's a mutant? You're already at risk, and studies show how dangerous and erratic mutants are. If you don't abort the child, you'll be at risk just as much as your neighbors."

That could be a separate plot line entirely on its own in the Marvel Universe. Imagine the X-Men fighting not just for mutant rights, acceptance, etc, but for the ones without a voice. You could get so much more out of that, and everyone is sleeping on the potential!

Conclusion

There are many routes to show that the X-Men can coexist not only in the wider Marvel Universe, but doing so without making them metaphors for the gay and trans community. Doing that to the X-Men is an insult to not just the characters and the morals they uphold, but to Stan Lee himself. Many times he said that the X-Men were not representative of that community; the only reason that lens was applied to them was because of the perverted Chris Claremont, who wanted everyone gay, and only because of Jim Shooter did we not have guys kissing each other - or girls kissing each other - for a couple of decades.

I know this will get me much hate, but I don't think I care at this point. I love the X-Men, I love the morals for which they stand/stood, and I love the stories that have been and could be told with them. And I'm tired of seeing everyone demand they be gay, or be in a separate universe from the now streamlined Marvel characters.

Please, just think about the true, good elements of a story you could tell with them, without taking them away from the rest of the Marvel cast.

[naturenaruto]

but also im laughin at my prev reblog abt sam having a supernaturally strong immune system- and not at all bc of demon blood lol but bc he grew up in rank motels where there were infinite strains of mold and various other evils and it......did something to him,,,,,,,,also just by going thruout the days/cases..hopping rusty fences...eating spoiled and expired food..showering with suspicious well water..sleeping on ancient musty mattresses with devious dust...dean started noticing he never needed doctors visits..never required a tetanus shot...cuts healed fast...someone could cough on his face and hed never get sick..........imagine the horror when he finally was around ~normal~ ppl and sure hed wash his hands but like he mentions once he never gets a tetnus or flu shot and theyre like 🤔 someone asks abt the food in the communal fridge if its still ok to eat and he unthinkingly goes off on this tangent abt how once he was so delirious he grabbed the food in the motel fridge and then passed out on the kitchen floor and the next day when he woke up he saw it had bluish black mold on it bc it wasnt even their food the last residents left it and e was TOTALLY FINE so aha this 3 day old sandwich is totally fine aha and theyre all like 😶

and then he regails a story abt how once he was the only kid in an entire town who didnt get like,,the school plague and thats why its so important to get enough sleep and theyre like 😕 and then after a few months he gets known for bein the 7ft tall guy around campus who will physically carry you home after a party so you dont drive or get attacked and as he deadlifts some equally big guy off the floor of a frathouse he mentions how this is nothin bc once he had to carry his heavyass big brother "about" 12 miles through "light" woods to get to a clinic when he was around 15 bc said brother got alcohol poisioning at a cabin they were vacationing at bc sam ate all the food so maybe he didnt realize how much hed had so thats why its so important to not drink on an empty stomach guys and make sure you have a friend pour water down your throat and have someone who can cut you off and theyre all like 😟 and then yet another time hes playing a pickup game of flag football and they all get rly into it and one girl ends up getting her finger popped out of joint so sam kinda asks if its ok if he puts it back in yknow, before the ambulance shows up just to help with the pain and shes like in shock so she says yeah okay and he puts the right pressure on and holds her arm and its over before she even realizes and decides to call off the ambulance and just go to the school clinic and it saves her a few hundred dollars and then yet another time jess drags him to her friends friends sisters sorority end of the year party and its a bit more intense than any others hed gone to and after a few hours demons must whisper to someone that yes, they can make that jump from the second story window to a makeshift trampoline (made out of bedsheets) and he ends up with his tibia poking out of his shin and isnt even screaming bc of shock but sam knows the ambulance isnt gonna get there in time so he moves around everyone screaming and puking and wraps it up using jess' crop cardigan and keeps as much blood in as he can while keeping the guy awake and so there just gets to be alot of stories and rumours abt him, not that noone else can stitch a wound or knows how to do shit but sometimes he'll tell a story and his friends think theres something a bit off about it but they dont mention it bc they like sam sams cool sams a genuinly nice guy and yeah maybe sometimes jess will gently cut him off and steer the conversation to something else and yeah sure sometimes ppl get a weird vibe from how nonchalant abt things he can get, like nothings a big deal, like that fight wasnt soo crazy, like that guy isnt even that scary, like the bathrooms in the humanties building isnr even that gross, like that professor isnt even all that, like hes coasting, like nothing phases him unless they bring up that brother he mentioned once, then he wont be in class for the next four days, and sure sometimes he gives off a weird vibe and sure sometimes he'll be telling a story and he'll trail off like hes suddenly remebered who hes talking to and theyll be left with a cliffhanger, not knowing what happened after he pulled a knife on some guy at the library when he was 11, and sure sometimes jess will cut him off when she feels like its going somewhere and she'll steer the conversation elsewhere, and sure sometimes when someone fucks around a bit too much theyll be met with a cold stare thatll give everyone around the heebiejeebies for awhile, but hey, sams a good guy sams a helpful guy sams a nice guy, sams just some guy

[buildhope]

🏹   @lingeringscars​,   ❝ sometimes i wonder if i’m doin’ enough  ---  if i’m enough for him,  y’know? ❞   after all that adam has already lost in his life time,  alden can’t help but wonder.  it was never supposed to be just him,  but now it is,  and that’s a responsibility he never hesitated to take over  --- though it does make him question,  always comparing himself to both earl and tammy.  they were the best parents to him even when he met them as an adult,  so he’s always trying to be the best parent he can be for adam from the beginning. 

❝  but  .  .  .   then he smiles,  and the world feels a little brighter,  and that tells me that maybe,  i’m not as bad as i think i am.  they don’t tell ya that parentin’ is just spendin’ all your time second guessing yourself.  ❞ 

[itoshi-s]

we barely had any glimpse of Sae's life during his stay in Spain (except knowing that he did go there for soccer purposes). So I imagined that during his stay in Spain, he felt homesick. A colleague of his suggested "Why not go for a drink to ease yourself?" and then BOOM!! Went to a club, shots of liquor made him drunk already but it worked! (for now).

His other teammates will be like-- "Oi!! Someone help carry this kid back home!" You and his manager volunteered to help (just to get out of this place because lord knows how dangerous Clubs are when it comes to women, especially if you're not around trusted group of friends, but his manager seems friendly and you're working as an intern manager for future players so that's a mixed feeling).

His manager carried Sae and you gathered his other personal belongings, went inside a taxi to drive towards Sae's temporary place. You opened the lock of the door, and his manager placed him in his bed, manager-san hurriedly left though but he didn't forget to say his thanks for trusting him and all~

You placed Sae's belongings to his couch and accidentally made a noise from your foot (as you were about to leave). You took a closer look on what it is and u saw... a plastic wrap for a nori wrapper? What?? But you're in Spain! *crack-* You stepped in another plastic wrapper and soon discovered a trashbin full of failed attempts of cooking and convenient bought goods (he did mention that he's not good with anything besides soccer so..). Shocked, you began to overthink that somehow reached to a conclusion 'This is not good! He should be eating healthy stuff, not this! Mmmm... could this be a test to become a good manager in the future?!' So you quickly searched for quick yet delicious japanese breakfast (as a manager, u must know at least the player's home country) so that he can heat it up easy with a microwave. After spending an hour, you're finally done cooking and covered it, leaving a letter that says, "Don't forget to eat breakfast, Mr. Itoshi.", cleaned the used kitchen stuff, and left the place. That's what happened during that night, some people might think it's a bit excessive, but you don't mind. It's a veryyyy small act of kindness compared to what his sponsor has given him anyway. You already expected that he'll let the upcoming day pass by but that's okay, you treated this situation as a test and just want to help him as an intern manager for future players that will be assigned to you anyway.

.

.

.

.

.

Or so you thought that would happen. Cuz you shouldn't be fast-walking around the building (carrying out your duties an intern) while being tailed by a red-bean haired who's spouting "not-so-believable-job-descriptions-but-hey-a-generous-offer/s" exclusively for you.

(If u finished reading this longggg...imagine?? Idk how to call it :T then... thank youu! You can continue this idea with a fic or something if u wannnt)

AAAAAAA nonnie i luuuuuv this prompt considering it's canon that sae has his family send him japanese food and snacks when he's away ajhslksah and also it was stated that he really cares about his fam too so i can DEFINITELY imagine him bein homesick . also i'm curious what happened in spain to make him the way he is :((( sigh but that's for another time hehe

also i hope i did get your idea correctly cuz i might be runnin on like 5 hours of sleep and 'm after 3 hours of practice too 😭 so sorry if i misunderstood anything aksjghask but the thought of you just doing your job and being a good hearted human and sae noticing .. taking it as a chance to get closer to you .. doing the craziest stuff that his manager just cannot deal with,, so that you can intervene and he can see you again </3 kinda smells of yan themes too but im just a whore for mentally unhinged boys (`ー´)

ty sm for sending this in !! i will keep that in mind for future fics cause it really is such a wholesome-can-turn-dark-idea hehe

[sardonic-the-writer]

Ppls reactin' to their s/o bein' a ghost? [Once again, can be anyone(s)]

━"You're back"

━Everyone

━Tw: Death, some angst

━Notes: Happy and sad times go brrrr

━Song: "Ocean Avenue" By Yellowcard

Dream

Was probably the one to kill you to be honest. It was for a personal gain, of course, so when he sees you as a ghost he takes full advantage of the clean slate he's been brought on a silver platter. Again.

George

He's already lost so much these past few years that seeing you alive (well, about as alive as you can get) nearly brings him to madness. XD most likely was the one to conjur you up; remembering how happy George was being around you. The God doesn't understand why it made George start sleeping more, rarely waking up.

Sapnap

Hugs. Hugs hugs hugs. You are never ever getting rid of this man ever again. Much like George, he's lost so many people between the wars and his fiances. But his reaction would be a lot more positive than our mushroom loving friend.

Wilbur

Is shocked. Well, about as shocked as he can be, seeing that the guys seen some weird shit. Wilbur would just laugh in disbelief, running a hand through his hard before getting to introduce you to Ranboo from the afterlife. Asks what you can remember too, curious to compare his own ghostly experience to yours.

Tommy

Would think that he's going insane. He could have swore that he'd seen you die in his arms. He remebers the pained screams you let out that haunt the boy to this day. You're just a hallucination, that's all. Yeah, he's just making this up. That's what it is...

Tubbo

Is overjoyed. Oh he can already imagine all the things the two of you can do together now that you're back! He can introduce you to Micheal (he's sure that his son would absolutely love you!) Perhaps even convince Ranboo to let you into their platonic marriage! It is good for tax benefits after all. Even if you are dead.

Ranboo

Gets so excited after seeing you that he runs into something. A tree or pole, probably. Much like Tubbo, he can't belive that you're back. Just wants to resume what things were like before your last life. Pranking, laughing, talking, just now he has to get used to the fact that you can float. Basically making the most of things while it lasts.

Technoblade

The hybrid can't take it. He swore to never speak your name again after the voices pushed him to kill you that night all those years ago. He swore to never slander your name any further. So now that you're back? Standing in front of his with open arms and a wide smile, a sword sized gash along your jugular? Well, expect to be pushed away. Whether you like it or not.

Philza

The most calm of everyone. He's already seen one of his kids be killed an then turned into a ghost, so why not another one? And we all saw how he treated Ghostbur, so you're in good hands with your still living dad :) <3

Quackity

Hides underneath everything. Puts off meeting you as long as he can, not wishing to relive the layer after layer of memories that are sure to be brought back up. Quackity hides in his office for nearly a month with scattered boxes of tissues and fist-sized hole in walls untill he's sure your visit has passed.

Karl

"Who's (Y/n)? They sound familiar."

BBH

Let's hope you want to join the eggpire! Because if not, Bad might just have to resort to other methods to make his sweet muffin see the error of their ways.

Niki

So happy! Rushes you into a big bear hug and spends the rest of the week day catching up on all of the things that you've missed out on. Even bakes you your favorite treats as a welcome back present!

Eret

Kisses all around. Face kisses, cheek kisses, neck kisses, hand kisses, hair kisses, you name it. She's just so happy to see you after all this while that they want to take as much of you in as she can.

Just stubbed my toe. Send help

-WayToSarcastic

[nyxdelanuit]

Feral (Tendou x F! Reader)

Hey! Here’s Nyx being super late with a collab fic for the Haikyuu Headquarters Collab, which can be found here! 

Special shout outs to @the-great-queen and @fallingintoimagination for getting me hooked on Feral Tendy <3 and @mammonrights for bein a heathen with me.

Warnings: Biting, Marking, Slight breeding kink cause it’s me, A lil bit of predator/prey play, and NSFW abound~ 

You quite enjoyed the calm, lazy weekends where you curled up with a book or movie, ignoring the outside world and the coming work week. The same couldn’t be said for your friend, currently draped over your lap, whining.

 "I'm so bored, let's do something fun." Tendou looked up at you with pleading eyes as you kept watching your show. You were only a few episodes out from the season finale, and you weren't too keen on stopping now.

 "I am having fun, Sa-to-ri." You grinned, glancing down at him, "It's not my fault you don't have any taste." He pouted at you, the teasing something that had thrived in your friendship.

 “It’s not my fault I’ve already read the whole series before the show started. I could tell you what happens if you want.” Your attention turned fully to him, what he wanted all along.

 "You wouldn't dare, Tendou." You tried to keep your gaze hard on him, despite the growing grin on his face.

“Ooh, pulling out the last name, that hurts.” He put a mocking hand over his chest. “And I wouldn’t have to ruin the whole series for you if you just entertained me a little.” You huffed, pausing the show and giving him an unamused glare.

"Fine, and what do you want to do exactly?" He sat up, leaning in close to you. You could feel the heat of your face at his nearness but kept up your mask. It wasn't new for you and Tendou to flirt like this, but it never failed to excite you.

 “Would you believe me if I said you?” The coy grin he wore made you roll your eyes.

 “No.” You turned your face away, trying to calm your desperate heartbeat before you gave him more ammunition to tease you. His calloused fingers slid under your chin, bringing your face back to his gaze.

 "I think you're lying… you want it, don't you?" You bit your tongue softly, trying to weigh your options. Tendou would notice right away if you lied, and you wouldn't dare tell him the truth, that you had been dreaming of the day he'd finally make a real move.

 It seemed Tendou was especially impatient that day, pressing a light kiss to your lips before retreating, hopping off your couch to stretch. “Let’s play tag.”

 You were snapped out of your stupor at the kiss by his words, wondering if you had possibly imagined it. "W-what?" His eyes drifted to yours with a predatory smile.

 “Tag. If you can keep away from me for… hmm… fifteen minutes, you win. We keep watching your show, no more complaints from me.” You furrowed your brows.

 “Satori, we’re not kids anymore. I figured you’d want to go out to a club or something, why tag?”

 “Cause it’s fun. Live a little, play tag with me.” He shrugged and held out a hand, which you reluctantly took, pulling you to your feet.

 “Fine, and what happens if I lose?” His eyes glittered with a curious mischievousness, and you were almost tempted to pull your hand away.

 "I'll think of something. Now for the rules. No leaving the house, no locking doors. I'll give you a 30-second head start. You can hide if you really want to." His grin only grew as he spoke, showing his excitement for your little game. You rolled your eyes again, ignoring the spark of adrenaline that ran through your veins. "Sound good to you?"

 "Yeah, sure, Satori."

 "Then… Run." The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but wonder if this was how a rabbit felt staring into the eyes of a wolf. Once he started counting, you were pulled from your frozen state, turning and bolting down the hallway. You could still hear him, his singing echoing through your house as he counted down the seconds to his hunt. With no more than a handful of seconds left, you crept into the ancient wardrobe in your room, thankful you hadn't had the time to fill it properly. You bit at your lip, trying to get the door to close from the inside was harder than you expected.

 Your breath hitched as you heard his footsteps, far too close for you to fiddle with the door anymore. You pressed yourself into the dark of the wardrobe, hoping it was enough to conceal you as his shadow snuffed out what remained of the light.

 Your hands flew to your mouth, holding in your breath along with the whine that threatened to escaped as he paused in front of you.

 “Come on out sweetness, maybe I’ll make your punishment something we’ll both enjoy?” His voice was deeper than usual, a darkness you’d only caught glimpses of before now on full display. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you were, the heat pooling in your stomach as he lingered. Something about the tension, the anticipation of being found was a drug to you.

 He slowly moved away, something you only noticed by the return of the light. You sat for several long moments, trying to hear past the blood rushing in your ears as you peeked through the door. The room in front of you was empty, and he could no longer be heard. If you wanted to run, now would be the time. Cautiously, you pushed open the door, creeping out one leg at a time until you released a shuddering breath, straightening your clothes.

 "You should probably run now, little lamb." The voice made you jump, even more so the sight of Tendou, leaning against the door you had just open, a malicious grin splitting his face in two. You ran without any thought, slamming doors behind you as you tried and failed to remember your house's layout. Every step, every labored breath you took, you could hear him nearing. You could feel him hot on your heels, to the point where the doors were no longer falling closed behind you, merely bouncing off his extended arm, slamming against the wall.

 You had made a mistake somewhere in your panic. A room with no other doors, no easy means of escape, just you and Tendou standing at separate sides of the room. All you could do was watch as he closed in, your heart jack-hammering against its cage. The only way out was around, to fake out the former Guess Monster of Shiratorizawa.

 Breathe in, breathe out- glance to the side, opposite of where you were planning of going. Your mind was working faster than you thought possible, acting on the barest hint of thoughts as Tendou's hands neared you. You ducked, somehow slipping through the narrow escape between his arm and his body. Your lungs burned as you ran, the peals of laughter echoing throughout the halls as the hunt continued. How long could fifteen minutes be?

 Each step, each ragged breath sent a fire through your veins. Maybe Tendou had the right idea, when was the last time you felt this alive? Slipping through doorways, skidding along tiled floors, nervous laughter seeping through your lips as his cackling rang in your ears. Faster, quicker, just seconds ahead of his hands, you ran. You couldn't hide, not anymore, all you could do was hope that you were faster than him until the clock ran out.

 You somehow found yourself back where you started, the timer of his phone counting down the last seconds of your game. You had won, you knew it, just a few more seconds…

 A shrill scream tore through your throat; you had let yourself get distracted. Calloused fingers wrapped around you, holding your arms tight to your chest as the alarm rang through the house. You had almost won… Tendou pulled you flush against his chest, every inch of him wrapped around you, pressed against your back.

 “Too bad, little lamb.” He taunted, his lips brushing against your ear. “You were so close.” You hadn’t even noticed the whine that escaped you until you heard him chuckle, low and dark. “You stopped there near the end… did you want me to catch you that bad?” You shook your head, belatedly noticing how his hands sunk into the plush of your chest. “You can deny it to yourself all you want, but your body says differently. You haven’t even tried to slip away.” He moved his head to brush his lips against your neck, the barest brushes of skin. There was no fighting the shiver of pleasure that ran down your spine or the gasp that slipped past your lips.

 You resisted even less when he turned you, pressing your chests together as his head dipped to kiss you hungrily. You opened to his whims easily, tongue and teeth clashing with no other thought than the hunger that burned deep in your stomach. When had your hands buried themselves in his? When had he stopped kissing you in favor of trailing bites down the length of your neck? It was happening so quickly, and yet it seemed as if this had been building up as long as you could remember. He devoured you, as he did so many other things. Headfirst into his passion with little regard to anything else as his rough hands slid under your shirt, quickly pulling it up and over your head. He barely pulled away to pull his own off by the collar, whipping it to the abyss that existed outside of you and him.

 Throughout the house, he led you, a trail of clothes littering your path. He was nothing but a storm of lips and teeth, marking every inch of skin he could reach, claiming you as his prize. He hadn't even stripped you of your underwear, but the way he was grinding against you, laving his tongue over the deep imprints of his teeth had you writhing for release. Finally, a single finger dipped between you, dragging over your covered folds and feeling the dampness that made the fabric cling to your skin.

 “Pretty little lamb, I’m going to destroy you.” He chuckled, his breath falling heavily against your neck. You nodded, already a whining mess.

 “Please, Satori… I want you, please.” Was that your voice? You hardly recognized it, buried beneath all the lust and longing weighing down the tone.

 He spoke mockingly as he slowly pulled the last scrap of fabric down your legs. “I knew you wanted me, little lamb… but I didn’t mind playing our little game to make you admit it. You opened your mouth to refute him, to say something in your defense, but the only thing that came out was a sinful moan as his teeth sunk into your thigh, marking you so close to where you wanted him.

 Words failed you, lost in the haze that was Tendou Satori, and all you could do was pull him in closer, desperate to feel him inside of you. He fit against you so well, the feeling of his lips on yours was a drug like no other. You melted against his touch, conforming to his body as he hitched your leg high up on your hip. His touch on your hip was firm, holding you still as he teased at your entrance, watching your face with a sadistic smile.

 Ever so slowly, he sunk in, his mouth open as he let the softest of groans escape him while he watched you writhe as you tried to push down further on his length. "You know, little lamb… I never said what I would take as my prize…" You attempted to clear your cloudy eyes, focusing on his gluttonous face.

 "I thought this…" A sharp thrust, bottoming Tendou's length inside you brought your sentence to a breathy end, but you tried to continue on, "I thought I was your prize?"

 “Hmm… but you gave yourself over to me without me even asking… I guess I’ll just have to cum in you as my prize.” It shouldn’t sound so appealing falling from his lips, but all you could do was keen out, desperate for him to take you in any and all ways he wanted. He won you fair and square.

 “Please, Satori, whatever you want, just move!” His smile darkened, a calloused finger coming up to brush lightly against your cheek.

 “How can I resist when you beg so nicely for it?” With that last word, his hands returned to your hips, holding on in a bruising grip as he pulled out slowly, watching the tears gather on your lashes as you pleaded for him to move faster. As soon as the tip traced your entrance, something in him snapped. He bucked into you wildly, pulling a loud moan from your lungs.

 Gone was your lazy, teasing friend that you spent calm Sundays with, replaced with a hungry animal, intent on devouring you from the inside out. Each roll of his hips pushed you further from your thoughts, focusing only on the carnal way he hunched over you, sucking deep marks into your skin to remind you long after this was over of what he turned you into. Just a mewling, desperate mess, falling apart underneath him, pliant to his every touch. And touch he did, imprints of his hands seemed to be carved into your hips, the ghost of his teeth in every bite he laid on your skin still stinging, only heightening the pleasure of his cock pistoning within you.

 The pleasure became overwhelming, and you dug your nails into his shoulder, desperate for anything to ground yourself in this moment. It only spurred him on further, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as you marked him in kind. Some small stake that showed you weren't just a passive participant in his game. You pulled him close with the grip you held on his shoulders, panting heavily on his shoulder before you bit into his neck, mirroring one of the many marks he had left on you. The whine you pulled from his throat only made you moan against his skin as he pushed your legs higher, trying to find a better angle to sink into you as you savagely attacked his neck.

 You only pulled away when you felt the peak growing impossibly close, a breathy moan of his name bringing him back to himself.

 “Please, Satori, I’m so close.” You let the tears spill from your lashes, twin rivers framing your face as you stared up at him, pleading. “Fill me up, please.” He groaned lowly, pulling back just enough to sneak a hand between your bodies. Those stupid, calloused fingers you had grown to appreciate so quickly deftly found your clit, sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and he relentlessly assaulted the swollen nub. You felt him start to twitch inside you as you tensed, finally cresting in pleasure.

 He was thrown violently into his orgasm as you cried out his name, clenching your fists around his shoulders once more. Each thrust as he worked through his release brought you closer to over-stimulation, the added friction on the edge of pain as he filled you.

 The house was finally quiet, the only sound coming from your intermingling breaths, heavy and satisfied. He collapsed next to you, content to relax against your pillows as you processed all that had just happened. When you remained silent, he turned his eyes to you with a grin. “We can go watch that show now.”

 You couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that escaped you. “After all that, you want to go watch that show?” He nodded, smirking.

 "Yeah, why not?" He sat up, stretching out his shoulders, and giving you a good view of the angry red lines you had left all over him.

 “So… do we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

 "I don't know what you mean, I thought I made it pretty clear." You wished you could see his face as he got up for even a hint of how he felt.

 “What do you mean, Satori?”

 “I won you.” He sung, “I marked you inside and out. You’re mine now.” He turned with a mischievous grin, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this was the outcome he wanted when he walked through your door this morning. Still, you stood, walking over to him and running a hand down his chest.

 “You did, didn’t you?” With your confirmation, his grin softened to a more sincere smile, ducking to place a kiss to your cheek.

 “So, time for your show, little lamb?”

[hangovercurse]

Worst Firsts

You and Colson go on Worst First with Brittany Furlan and Tommy Lee.

Request: “Have Colson(mgk) and reader (who are dating) go on worst first with brittany furlan(lee).LOVE YOUR WORK!!!❤❤”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, talk of sex (no actual smut)

Word Count: 1684

“Hello all you fine folks out there and welcome back to Worst Firsts. Boy oh boy do we have the show for you today. First off, we have my husband, Tommy Lee, with us here.” Colson banged on the table as you gave out a small cheer. Brittany continued, a small laugh sent in your direction, “We brought our favorite Tommy Lee two-point-O Machine Gun Kelly back on the show today!” You cheered for your boyfriend as Tommy banged on the table. “And for her first time on the show, we have the wonderful Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!” Colson shouted for you as Tommy continued banging on the table. “Thank you guys so much for coming, thank you for coming back Colson. I am so excited you guys are here today.”

“I love bein’ here.” Colson said into the mic, shooting Brittany a smile.

“When you asked us to come on, I was so fucking excited.” You said, Colson nodding with you.

“For real, bro. She was off the walls.”

Brittany continued, speaking to her audience, “If you guys didn’t know, Gunner here played Tommy in The Dirt way back in 2019, which released right before you two met, am I right?”

You smiled lightly, a slight heat rushing to your cheeks as the focus turned to you and Colson. Luckily, he answered for you, “yeah, we met literally like maybe 3 days after the premiere. That was such a sick time in my life.”

“Dude, I bet. You release a kick ass movie and then turn around and meet-“ Tommy started, Colson cutting him off to finish his sentence.

“The love of my life, yeah.” You smiled bashfully, Colson’s arm finding its way around you and pulling you into his side.

Brittany smiled at you two, Tommy’s hand reaching over to grab hers under the table. “So, this show is all about first times and, while normally we would talk about worst firsts, I gotta know how you two met.”

“It’s honestly not much of a story,” you began, “Netflix had this party and we were both invited because we both had movies out on Netflix. I went up to him at the bar because I thought he was hot and we started talking and now, uh, we’re here.” Colson nodded as you recounted the memory.

“I was trying so hard not to fuck anything up though, because literally the entire night before she came up to me, I was trying to figure out how to talk to her.” Your boyfriend said, red on his cheeks.

Brittany sent you a mischievous smile, “so what happened after that? Did you give him your number, did he ask you out, something else?” The inflection in her voice and the wiggle of her eyebrows let you in on exactly what else she thought you might have done.

“Something along the lines of something else.” You said, a smile playing on your lips. Colson threw his head back in laughter. Tommy nodded with pride at you two.

‘Speaking of something else.” Colson began, making you look up to him in both confusion and panic, “This is all about worst firsts, right?”

“What are you about to say?” You asked him, a warning in your voice.

He giggled, “remember the first time we had sex in public?”

Brittany’s eyes went wide, “you two did what?”

Tommy asked, “first time?”

You leaned into Colson’s side, a blush rising to your face. “That was literally the most awkward experience of my entire life.”

Colson laughed at the expressions of the older couple, “okay, basically we were on tour in the middle of butt fuck nowhere and there was nothing in this town. No bars, no clubs, nothing.”

You continued his story, “but there was this tiny carnival. So, after the show we went in hope of something fun happening.”

Tommy laughed, “well something fun certainly happened.”

“After about an hour in we were bored and she was only gonna be on tour for a few more days.” Colson said, “so we figured we should make the most out of the lame ass carnival. And then we found it.”

“the photobooth.” You said, watching Brittany’s jaw drop.

“Him, I expect this from.” She pointed at Colson, “but you?”

You giggled, nodding your head, “It was her idea!” Colson exclaimed over your laughs.

“I hadn’t seen him in almost two months and was only on tour for two weeks, I had to make up for lost time and this was the only place that we could get any semblance of privacy.” You said, shoving Colson lightly as he grinned proudly at you.

“Wait so did you two get caught?” Tommy asked, intrigued.

Colson answered, “we didn’t get caught, per say, but as we were leaving this family came up to the booth. And I mean, there’s not a great way to hide that you’ve just had sex. We tried, but people still know.”

Brittany and Tommy laughed, the latter banging his hand on the table as he did so. “The look on that mother’s face. I thought she was gonna call the cops or something.” You said.

“Was it at least good?” Brittany asked to which Colson replied,

“we were in a photobooth, Brittany. No.”

Tommy chuckled, “I’m sure it was better than doing it on the tour bus.”

Your eyes went wide and a laugh tumbled from your mouth as you recalled the first time you and Kells had had sex on the tour bus. “We do not need to talk about that.” He looked down at you as he spoke, a look of warning in his eyes.

“Oh yes we do.” Brittany said, looking at you to speak.

“There’s not much to it, but as I’m sure you can imagine, the bunks are not the most spacious of beds. And Colson here is a six-foot-four giant who barely fits in the bunk as it is.” You began, giggling as Colson’s glare hardened on you. “Let’s just say Kells almost got a concussion because he hit his head so hard.”

Brittany laughed as Tommy spoke, “sex in the bus is difficult, dude. I get it.”

“Why didn’t you just go on top?” Brittany asked you.

Colson grumbled, “because she was “tired from her flight” and “didn’t want to get hurt.”” He used air quotes as he mimicked your words from the night, making Brittany and Tommy laugh.

“I sat on a plane for 9 hours to see you, the least you can do is top.” You said, shrugging as Colson let out a silent chuckle. “But yeah, it was not good.”

You continued to talk about other first times you’d had. You told the couple about your first kisses when you were younger, retelling the story of your first kiss in middle school when your braces got stuck on the poor kid’s lip.

Then Colson recounted the story of the first time you both went out on a boat together. “For context,” you started, “I am terrified of the ocean. I can swim but I refuse to go into any water that isn’t a pool.”

“We were out there with a couple of our friends and she was staying as far away from the edge of the boat as possible. And then some of our homies tried to pull her towards the edge and she freaked the fuck out.”

You pouted, “you fucking laughed the entire time it was not funny.”

“It was!” He exclaimed, “you were pulling away like a little kid.” You glared at him, “but, for the record because people are gonna think I’m a bad boyfriend, I made them stop. And then I dragged her towards the edge myself and made her sit with me.”

You then told the story of the first time you’d gotten a call from the hospital to come get Kells. “I was unaware that this was a normal thing. So, when I get a call at 4 am that he’s in the ER I was kind of freaking out. And then I get there and him and Rook are just sitting there messing around like two little kids.”

Colson chuckled, rubbing his face with his hands, “you were so worried when you first came in and then as soon as you saw us you got so annoyed.”

“What did you guys do that got you in the ER?” Brittany asked.

You deadpanned, “they were throwing knives around and Colson nearly cut off his finger.”

Tommy nodded, “nice.”

After a few more firsts, Brittany asked the final first worst, “what was the first or worst fight you guys got in?”

You looked at your boyfriend, trying to figure out what fight he’d pick. “The first big fight we got into was that night at the hospital that we mentioned earlier.” He said and you nodded in agreement. “Which I was totally in the wrong about.”

“Yeah. We got home and I literally couldn’t talk to him without wanting to scream.” You said.

Tommy tilted his head, “were you mad that he had gotten hurt or that he called you so late?”

You shook your head, “I was more frustrated than anything. Like I was fucking panicking because I thought something really bad had happened and he was treating it like a joke. But we talked about it and obviously we’re fine now.” You said smiling up at your boyfriend.

He grabbed your hand under the table, squeezing gently. “Yeah. That was also the first night I told you I loved you.” He said, nudging your shoulder with his own.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him back, “yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.” You said, giggling silently.

Brittany and Tommy watched you, smiling like proud parents. “Alright folks, we’re gonna end this podcast here. Thank you guys so much for tuning in, thank you guys for coming.” She motioned to you two, “It’s always so nice to see you guys, love catching up with you. If you’re not already subscribed, you should do that. Leave a like, a comment, whatever you want.”

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Nine

chapter nine

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: date night!! this is very fluffy, very emotional and extremely horny. edgar allan poe is rolling in his grave at what they did in his enchanted garden

exhibitionism, public sex (no ones there tho), drug mentions at the end (let me know if I should tag anything else!!!!)

word count: 5.4k

from the beginning <3

He spent all of Thursday afternoon with Penelope in Richmond, setting up for his date that night.

Stringing lights on the trees, mowing the grass and trimming the flowers back, the staff ensuring that the museum was in pristine condition for them tonight, it was perfect. The cats were brushed, there were rose petals the fountain and the most beautiful picnic set up in the garden.

Penelope packed their dinner for them, keeping it in the museum fridge for when they finally arrived, it was the only thing Spencer needed to remember.

Y/N: just got home, about to get ready! Can’t wait to see you at 6 ♥︎

Spencer smiled at his phone, about to text her back when Penelope laid a hand on his back, “change into your suit and head back to her, traffic might be bad?”

“Thank you, for everything. You’ve always been my best friend, more of big sister actually,” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly as to not get emotional. “You’re wonderful Penelope, thank you.”

“Awe!” She swooned, wrapping him up in a big hug. “I will always love you, Spencer, you deserve all of this and so, so much more, now go before I cry.”

He laughed, pulling back, hand lingering on her shoulder as he walked into the museum. They let him change in the backroom, it felt incredibly strange to be putting on a suit inside Edgar Allan Poe's house to go pick up his wife. Not too long ago he dreamed about bringing a girlfriend here someday, life was moving too quickly, he needed a breather.

He kept his suit jacket folded and on the passenger seat as he drove home, where he lived with his family. Even just thinking that as he paid attention to the road made him smile. The wind hitting his face, his hair blowing in the breeze, he felt free at last.

He was where he was supposed to be, all roads lead to here.

Travelling up her driveway with a smile on his face as the dust followed him to her doorstep. She was waiting in a red dress on the porch, Amoreena and her nanny eating pizza on the steps as they waited for him.

Stepping out of his car, he straightened his tie and pulled his pants up more, looking at his wife like she was a star plucked from the sky, landing in this Virginia field for him.

She stood then, her satin dress flowing and exposing a leg as she walked down the steps to him, “Is this what you wanted?” She twirled in front of him to show it all off, her hair getting stuck in her lipstick and making her laugh.

“I love you,” is all he can say as she leaning in with a wide grin, surpassing the smile to kiss him gently, using her thumb to get all the lipstick off his bottom lip and chin.

“Love you too, cutie,” she winked, taking his hand and turning back towards Amoreena, “listen to Nanny, remember we love you and we will see you no earlier than 7:30 tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” She saluted, mouth full of pizza.

“And what are the new rules about coming into our bed in the morning?”

“Knock first, wait till you respond, don’t come in unless you say it’s okay,” Amoreena replied, sticking her tongue out at her as she remembered it all.

“Smartie pants,” Y/N smiled at her, “come give us a hug, don’t get pizza on my dress, please.”

Amoreena wiped her sleeve over her mouth before running into her mother's open arms, they shared goodbye kisses before it was Spencer’s turn. She held him so tight it felt wonderful, “goodnight Lovey, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, have the best sleep ever for me?”

“I’ll see you in dreamland,” she replied, kissing his cheek gently before she pulled back.

“Have fun!” Nanny called from the porch as Amoreena skipped back to her.

“We will,” Spencer replied, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her to the passenger side, he opened her door and helped her inside, insuring her dress was inside before closing the door.

Jogging back to his door, he got in and put on his seatbelt. He threw the car in reverse and turned around by the barn, heading down the driveway, not saying a single thing as Y/N stared at him.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” She shook her head, licking her lip before biting it as she huffed.

“We’re going to Richmond, Virginia, to read,” he gave her one hint.

“Hmm,” she smiled, “I’m sure you won't tell me the title, so Mr. I can remember every book ever, what’s a random line in it?”

“You’re smart,” he teased her, “but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves that spread from their summits in long, tremulous lines, dallying with the Zephyrs—”

“We’re going to the Edgar Allan Poe Museum!” She cut him off with a cheer.

He slows down on the barren dirt road, mouth wide open as she got it right, he turns to her as they come to a complete stop, “how the heck did you get that?”

“Yes!” she laughed, tossing her head back as she clapped and kicked her feet a little, so proud of herself, “I’m a librarian, Spencer! Did you think I wouldn’t know Eleonora?”

“That’s the most random sentence in the whole poem?” Spencer was shocked, she recalled it faster than he thought he would be able to if she read a line to him.

“My brother’s first motorcycle was a Zephyr,” she smiled at him, raising her eyebrows. “My brain is kinda like a filing cabinet, if you give me a word I can remember everything I’ve ever heard with that word included.”

He started to drive again, shaking his head as he paid attention to the road but still astounded by how amazing she is. “Amoreena gets that from you then, she could have both our eidetic memories together, that would be very interesting to see.”

“Eidetic memory?” She questioned.

“It’s what most people call photographic memory,” Spencer explained. “You can remember everything you hear which is why you and Amoreena are able to recall songs, books and movie facts so fast, while I can read back to you anything I’ve read without having to see it again, it’s forever in my mind.”

“So we’re both geniuses, cool,” Y/N smiled at him again, “sorry I ruined your surprise.”

“You just know where we’re going,” he reminded her, laying his hand on hers, interlocking their fingers as he drove.

They had an hour alone before the real date started.

So she showed him all of her favourite songs, including some of Amoreena’s playlists so he could get familiar with them before their trip to Rhode Island. Her voice was impeccable, she knew all the words and harmonies, often opting to cove background voices he wouldn’t have even known were there if it wasn’t for her.

She loved music in a way that intrigued him, she enjoyed music with a story. Much like the reason she loved books so much, she enjoyed picturing the happy places in her mind that the songs were able to take her to, they filled her with glee and hope as she sang to her heart's content. Taking short breaks to explain the meanings of songs, to recite the best lyrics and why the songs are close to her heart.

“Do you want to hear the song that reminds me the most of you?” She asked between songs, pausing so that nothing else would start.

“Sure,” he blushed, nervous for what it could be and how she imagined him in her mind, hoping he could live up to it.

“I'm perfectly fine I live on my own, I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone. We met a few weeks ago, now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes,”

She stares at him with a beautiful smile as she waits to see his reaction to the opening, finally singing when the beat drops, dancing softly in her seat as she belted the words out to him.

“So prove to me I'm your American Queen, and you move to me like I'm a Motown beat, and we rule the kingdom inside my room,” She brushed her hand across his jaw, teasing him as the words flow from her lips to his ears, she loves him and he can feel it with every syllable.

“And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for, King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa! And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa,” she sings so softly, with a purpose, turning it down a little so that he can talk to her.

“I love you,” he reminded her, “so much it hurts sometimes.”

“It’s like your heartstrings are tugging on each other, right?” She agreed, “like they want to jump out of our chests and run to each other.”

He nodded with a soft smile, reaching for her hand again holding it as he brought it to his mouth for a kiss, “queen of my heart.”

“Hmmm,” she thought over his words, “I’m pretty content with being princess still, Lady Amoreena is in line for the thrown, it’s part of her namesake after all.”

“Does the kingdom have a name?”

“You know the Elton John song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road?” She waited for his nod, “my grandma called it Ozellous so it’s like wizard of Oz but I added the 'ellous' because people always said they were jealous of our farm.”

He’s trying his best to keep his eyes on the road when all he want’s to do is look at her smile, to see her pupil change as she recalls the loving memory, it’s his favourite thing to do. Better than any movie or play, seeing her face was better than looking at the most expensive art piece. He was so in love with all of her.

“Were you like Amoreena as a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “bullied hardcore for it too, kids always told me to shut up cause I’d add facts to conversations I wasn’t a part of.”

“I would have loved to listen,” Spencer replied softly, knowing the feeling all too well.

They were only a few minutes away now, turning into the small town and passing quaint little homes and cottages. “Amoreena would love this drive, these are some interesting townspeople homes for her imagination, we should come back sometime this summer.”

His heart was going to actually explode, she was everything he never knew he needed.

“I’d love that,” he added as they pulled into the museum. “I’m a museum member and I’m a patron, so sometimes I donate rare pieces I find, they love me here.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her eyes got caught on the twinkling lights in the distance, mesmerized by everything. Old cobblestone streets, brick buildings and wooden gates, it was straight out of the 1800s and absolutely fantastical.

“And it’s all ours for the night,” he put the car in park and turned to her, “wait here?”

She nodded, speechless as she continued to look out the window at everything. Spencer got out of the car, opening the back seat to grab and put on his jacket, straighten out his suit before opening her door and extending a hand to help her out.

“Princess,” he extended his arm for her to tuck her own under, he closed her door and escorted her through the gate and towards the garden.

The sun was just starting to set, 7 pm in early June being the most beautiful time of year in rural Virginia, the sky was a perfect purple as he leads her through the stone arches towards the picnic.

Her eyes sparkled with all the lights, wide and pupils blown as she took it all in. It was a fairytale, she was in a princess dress, he was the king of her heart and this was just the beginning of happily ever after.

“Spencer, whatever your middle name is, Reid,” she gasped, swatting his arm lightly with a smile growing on her face.

“It’s Walter,” he smiled right back.

He let go of her hand then and walked over to a table, turning on the record player and dropping the needle in the right spot. He did his research into some Taylor Swift songs, finding one that reminded him the most of Y/N and how much he loved her.

“May I have this dance?” He asks as she notices the all too familiar guitar strumming.

He reaches a hand out for her, pulling her in as she takes it, “I was so so lost before I found you in the park,” he explains the first verse, barely a whisper beside her ear as they start to sway.

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place Walls of insincerity Shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face

“All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you,” he whispers once more, feeling the goosebumps bursting on her bare arms.

He spun her around, extending both their arms as she twirled out and then back into his embrace again with a giggle. She swayed back and forth, dancing with him like the night they got married in her field.

Your eyes whispered "have we met?" Across the room your silhouette starts to make it's way to me The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

“And it was enchanting to meet you, All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you,” he sings them this time, spinning her out again as the chorus hits, her eyes widening as she began to smile wider than he’s ever seen before.

They sang the words together as they danced, smiling and laughing as they moved around the cobblestone. Finding a rhythm so perfect, so them, it was silly and not on beat in the slightest, mostly spinning, it was a spinning song if the album cover was any indication.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

“The lingering question kept me up, Two a.m., who do you love? I wonder till I'm wide awake! Now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door, I'd open up and you would say, hey! It was enchanting to meet you, all I know is I was enchanted to meet you,” Y/N’s voice softer than ever as she sang her anxieties into his ear, remembering the day at the museum where she wondered if she could have him all to herself.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you

Spinning around in circles she leaves his grasp, dress circling in the wind and he watches her. She takes both his hands and spins around with him in a tight circle before pulling back in, their chests bumping as they laughed, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life, and she’s made him pretty happy in the last few weeks.

The girl of his dreams, dancing around him with a smile like she was making her own music video. This was a dream of hers he didn’t know, making it come true as it became a dream of his own.

He places his hands on her cheeks as he stares into her eyes, “this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends. My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon, I was enchanted to meet you,” he whisper’s the words, barely singing, more talking.

“Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you,” she sings right back to him, staring into his eyes as they stand still in the garden.

She pulls him into a kiss, breathing in deeply through her nose as they hold each other’s cheeks, unable to get closer as they kissed. Pulling away with a loud smooch sound, smiling before taking her hands in his, once more.

Spinning her around again as the beat drops once more, her smile more beautiful than the first time he saw it. He was so madly in love, he firmly believed he was in heaven.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew!!

This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you

“Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did,” Taylor Swift's voice cuts into the beautiful moment as her songs change and the mood drastically changes.

Y/N bursts out in laughter, jumping lightly as she enjoyed the song, head-banging along as she danced by herself until Spencer turned the music off once again, “you’re so cute.”

“Thank you,” she bowed, “this is cute!”

“There’s a picnic basket in the fridge inside, and some wine if you think that’s a good idea?” Pointing towards the main house, she followed him towards the door.

“Oh, hello?” Her voice changed as she noticed the two black cats on the window, letting Spencer head inside for the basket as she talked to them.

“That’s Edgar and Pluto, the groundskeeper found them in the shed in 2012,” Spencer explains as he comes back out, basket in hand but she’s too busy with the cats to notice.

Petting both their faces, they stretch into her reach and bask in the feeling of her nails on their skin, Spencer would agree it felt nice. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, he must have been a cat in his last life.

“Amoreena wants her own indoor cat,” Y/N smiled wide at him, “she always wanted to call him Hercules like the Elton John song, almost like she knew you were her dad all along.”

She took his free hand then, following him towards the blanket in the grass, “how?”

“There’s a line in the song about Greek gods, but it says Hercules on her side and Diana in her eyes, and she does have your mom's eyes, right down to the colour of her iris,” Y/N looked at him like he was everything to her.

Spencer couldn’t speak, he just set the basket on the ground and ushered her to sit down beside him. She held the skirt of her dress up so she could sit crisscross applesauce on the blanket, draping her dress over her legs so she didn’t show anything off just yet.

“Every time I look at you I understand all her quirks and her facial expressions,” she added like she was trying to make him cry, “I’ve been looking at her for almost 8 years now, wondering who you were and now I know, and you’re so much better than I ever imagined.”

“Would you have looked for me when she turned 18?” Is all he can ask through his sniffles, trying to hold it together for her.

She nodded, “I was going to tell her soon anyway, she asks a lot of questions I’m not sure if you noticed.” Her giggle was priceless, “she had lots of questions when the goats were born this year and that meant her asking more about making human babies and I just said a special man helped me make my dreams come true, and she thought it was Rumpelstiltskin.”

Spencer couldn’t fight the laugh that erupted from him, leaning forward as he chuckled, making her laugh too. “Does she even know the whole story?”

“She’s only seen the 4th Shrek movie with him, she has no idea that he also takes the babies,” Y/N placed her hand on his knee gently, “If I get pregnant again, I’m going to tell her about how it all works as simply as possible, I want her to feel included in this and she’ll be less jealous if she sees this as a learning opportunity.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed, “I still can't believe she almost punched Michael for hugging me.”

“Oh, I can,” Y/N laughed again, “she was being bullied last year by an older kid and I said if someone upsets you or hurts you, sometimes it’s not that bad to hurt them back. Make them know you’re not weak and you care about yourself, and she gave a kid a black eye for tugging on her braid.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, “that’s my girl.”

Y/N opened the picnic basket then, taking everything out with a smile as Spencer stared at her, thinking a million different thoughts about future kids, how Amoreena would grow up, seeing her as a big sister to hopefully many.

They both leaned forward and kissed softly, smiling as they pulled back, “so you like charcuterie?”

She laughed, “Amoreena called it shark coochie once, I can’t not think of that now.”

“How many kids do you want?”

“Have you ever read cheaper by the dozen?” She teased him. “As many as I can have, I have the funds thanks to my job and the farm and not having to pay a mortgage, I was going to have another baby next year anyway, I had an appointment and everything scheduled, I even tried to get them to contact Amoreena’s father for another sample but they said they couldn’t ask you outright for me.”

“They asked me if I wanted to give another sample when I asked if I could know my kids,” Spencer remembered the words exactly, “she said ‘You have four offspring so far, none of the other samples used have produced a child, the women were all IVF as well so it wasn’t your swimmer's fault if you wanted to donate again.’”

“I don’t want to know the truth, are you okay if we let her decide if she wants to find out at 18?” Y/N asked softly, “I’m content thinking you’re her father, I don’t want to know if it’s some other tall who-lookin’ genius, okay?”

“That’s perfect actually,” Spencer agreed, “and on the kids front, you don’t mind me being in my 70s when they all start going to University?”

“My dad is 68 with no signs of stopping, and he’s still fantastic with his grandkids,” Y/N always had a fact to combat his anxiety. “You have a lot of life left in you, I’ll take good care of you so that they have the best dad ever for as long as possible.”

Spencer was so in love with his family he felt like he was floating, laughing and smiling all meal long as they shared facts back and forth about their lives. Getting to know each other more and more as the seconds passed, he imagined it would be like this forever. She was like a bottomless pit of information, facts, stories and secrets. He loved every single one she shared with him.

She poured herself a second small glass of wine, “you know they say that one glass of wine every once in a while is actually good for the baby?”

“It doesn’t work that fast,” he reminded her, more like he reminded himself. He didn’t want to hope in the chance it didn’t happen right away.

“I had a nightmare last night for the first time in a long time, so I think it worked,” she teased him. “I won't know till June 10th, that's when my next period would be.”

“Nightmare?” It was the only part he picked up on, worried for her and wondering why she didn’t wake him up.

She nodded softly, “I found out I was pregnant and you never came home, and I got lost in the forest looking for you and then I remembered I could wake up.”

He rests his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb against her bare skin softly, “I’m always coming home to you.”

“I know, when I got pregnant with Amoreena I had bad dreams in the first few weeks too, mostly about giving birth to nothing and being alone all over again, the subconscious and pregnancy hormones are mean as fuck when they hang out,” she laughed away the pain, “I know none of it is real.”

“Good,” he whispered, not knowing what really to say, he wasn’t used to soothing other people yet. Most people didn’t want his facts or concernment when something happened, just a hug normally.

She took a deep breath, pushing everything away, “good news, either my anxiety disorder is back in full swing or something’s working in here,” she laid her hand over her stomach, “either way, I’d like to try again tonight?”

He laughed, “we don’t need to make a baby every time you want to have sex?”

She got onto her knees then, crawling over the blanket and sitting right in Spencer's lap with her hands on both of his cheeks, “I want all your babies.”

He held her waist, pulling her in closer to his chest, “right now?”

She nodded, moving her dress out of the way to undo his belt, “no one is here right? It’s not like anyone would know?”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, kissing her neck as she unzipped his pants, moving his underwear out of the way just enough to free his hardening cock, she stroked it right there in the middle of the garden, staring down between their bodies in awe as he came to life.

Sitting up on her knees more, the slit of her dress made it a lot easier for her to show him her underwear. She was wearing just a thong, perfect for pulling to the side as she lowered herself onto him, ever so slowly.

She fixed her dress around them, completely calm and composed as he was fully inside of her, “you’re okay with this?”

He huffed a laugh out of his nose, dropping his forehead to her shoulder so he couldn’t buck into her and ruin the moment she was making, his hands moving to her hips, guiding her back and off him slightly before back down again, making her gasp.

“I thought you wanted to read?” She teased him as she started to ride him more, moving her hips in a way that took him in and out of her at just the right angle, her hands on his shoulders as she bounced on him lightly, he couldn’t even think straight. “Go on, read to me.”

He took a second to remember the words, mind totally somewhere else and not interested in a book at all when her boobs were right in his face.

“I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion,” the first sentence slipped past his lips as she kept going, he took a moment to kiss right under her ear before continuing.

“Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence—whether much that is glorious—whether all that is profound—does not spring from disease of thought—from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.”

“Shit,” she moaned, pushing his hand down towards her clit, “you can multitask, smartie pants.”

His thumb was on a mission then, rubbing small circles against her pleasure point, she tossed her head back with her eyes closed as she continued to ride him, “I don’t hear you reading?”

He moaned softly in her ear at the feeling, and the fact she wanted to get off to hearing him recite something from memory, it was more euphoric than he could have ever imagined.

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in ah- awakening, fuck,” he was trying his best to stay as composed as she was when he really just wanted to lay her against the blanket and fuck her into next week.

“to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret,” Y/N whispered the end of the sentence, grinding down on him harder than before.

“In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good,” she whispered into his ear, biting his earlobe softly with a moan and he kept rubbing her clit, “you’re so good, Spencer, so so good," she paused to enjoy the moment before whispering in his ear once more, "And more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compass-less into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.”

Her words softer than ever and they were never going to get to the end of this poem, he'd never know how the rest of the words sound on her tongue, she pulled him into a kiss then, moaning into his mouth as they ground against each other, finding a perfect rhythm to bring them to the end.

“There, yes, fuck,” she whispered against his lips, pushing against him as she arched her back slightly, slipping away from his mouth as she did so.

He slammed into her then as he chased her lips, making her whimper one last time before she was shaking in his lap, her legs quivering as she finished on him, sending him over the edge and stilling as he came with a shudder. He held her so close, both of them breathing into each other's mouths as they came down, kissing and smiling as they stayed connected.

“We’ll name her Eleonora,” Y/N teased, pulling off him and laying back against the blanket.

He made sure her underwear was back in the right spot before covering her with her dress again and sliding himself back into his underwear.

“Amoreena and Eleonora have a good ring to it, we just need 10 more names,” he teased right back.

“Hopefully we have a little boy one day too,” she smiled as she tugged him down beside her, cuddling into her side as they stared up at the newly dark blue sky and the array of stars that decided to join them this evening.

“Even if it’s just Amoreena, I’ve never been happier in my whole life than when I’m with you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She asked, purely to keep hearing his voice.

“Making me want to get up in the morning again, giving me a reason not to buy drugs for something euphoric to happen to me, showing me real love and proof that happiness is possible if you just chose to be happy,” he gave example after example.

“I thought I learned everything the world had to offer, but you’ve been showing me new little life hacks that make the world so much better, I see a future of bright colours and happiness and laughter for the first time ever, so thank you.”

She held him closer, “it’s been a pleasure falling in love with you, together, you deserve to love yourself. You’re so wonderful Spencer, it breaks my heart to know that anyone has ever made you feel the opposite.”

He couldn’t speak anymore, turning to kiss her neck and cheek so he had something to do that wasn’t crying. He loved her so incredibly deeply that he felt like he was an anchor, dropping to the bottom of her deepest ocean, without a single plan to leave.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt: domestic gallavich/being intimate in a nonsexualway bc there’s like 3 weeks til the next episode 😐

your wish is my command, anon!<3 i decided to tie this into next ep bc i simply cannot HANDLE mickey’s outfit/big gay metamorphosis & i needed to create the scene that inspired it so i wrote this

a one-shot bridging 11x06 and 11x07 in which ian and mickey talk about “gay friends,” ripped jeans, and do a bit of processing along the way

tw for brief mention of homophobia/abuse (bc terry lol)

--

“How come we don’t have any, like, gay friends?”

Ian looked up from where he was laying on the ground, breathing heavily after a series of push-ups, a nightly routine that he was trying to keep intact even though he and Mickey were practically driving the entire circumference of Chicago every day to make weed deliveries from dawn til dusk, leaving them both exhausted. It had been a week since all the shit with Terry, and a month or so since he and Mickey had started the security gig; while months ago their evenings would be spent sitting side by side on the bed in a brittle silence while Ian read or scratched in his notebook and Mickey played games on his phone blasting at full volume in the pajamas he’d been wearing all day, these days the evenings in their bedroom were softer and warmer— like they were settling into the space together, like they were both on the same team instead of constantly clashing and butting heads while trapped in a too-small space. These days, after having dinner in the clamor of the crowded kitchen, he and Mickey would head upstairs and change out of their uniforms, and Ian would work out while Mickey mostly just lounged on the bed, sometimes making commentary and watching him bob up and down with a pensive smirk or scrolling through his phone.

But tonight, Mickey was quiet— his eyes flickered to the curves and edges of Ian’s torso every now and then as Ian broke a sweat, but otherwise he wasn’t playfully poking and prodding like usual.

Mickey had been a lot quieter in general this week, after all the stuff with Terry— Ian knew seeing the source of all of Mickey’s trauma in a wheelchair immobile from the neck down, the most vulnerable Terry could have been, felt worse than someone repeatedly twisting a knife in Mickey’s abdomen. But beyond the initial shock and the almost-murder and lugging him up the stairs, having Terry in a wheelchair twenty feet away did something deeper to Mickey. This whole situation shifted something solid that had been lodged in the pit of Mickey’s stomach for years— Ian could see it, and he fucking hated it. He hated Mickey’s glassy contemplative eyes as he looked out the car window while they drove to a new dropoff location, lost in his head when he thought Ian wasn’t looking. He hated the tightly wound tension between Mickey’s shoulder blades as he slept, curled into himself and twisted in the comforter, facing away from Ian on the other side of the bed. He hated the tight smiles Mickey gave him as he made some offhand joke about Terry when they could hear him cursing and shrieking through the open front windows, smiles that were trying to prove something outwardly but showed the barbed pain stinging at Mickey’s insides. Ian poured out what he could in soft touches, in skims of fingertips at the breakfast table and in an arm over Mickey’s waist while they slept; but he could only give as much as Mickey would take, and for most of the week Mickey had shut everyone out with iron walls.

Ian couldn’t imagine what was stirring in Mickey’s mind; he’d seen some of Mickey’s trauma firsthand, sure, and some of the stories about Terry came slipping through the cracks when Mickey’s guard was down— mostly on those late nights when they both couldn’t sleep and Mickey whispered into the crook of Ian’s neck as they were curled into each other, cradled in the dark silence of their bedroom. But Ian knew there was deeper shit that he hadn’t heard about, and he could see the constant fear of Mickey’s adolescence hanging heavy around his neck all these years later. But Mickey didn’t need anyone to push his walls down— Ian knew he’d open up when he was ready.

Which is why this random question, the most direct statement Mickey had really made to him all week, caught Ian off guard. He sat up, folding his arms over his legs and staring up at where Mickey was slouching on the bed, propped up by a pillow he’d shoved between his back and the wall. “Gay friends?” he asked, more than a little confused.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Yeah, gay friends, y’know. Like all your youth center queers that came to the wedding or whatever.” He suddenly looked down and picked at a fraying thread on his shirt sleeve, not meeting Ian’s eyes.

Ian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was random, sure, but Mickey wouldn’t have brought it up if something wasn’t weighing on him, bubbling up after all the events of this week.

“I don’t know— I guess since the pandemic and stuff, I haven’t really kept in touch with Geneva or any of those guys who came to our wedding. We only really talked after I got out of prison because of all the Gay Jesus publicity bullshit, but after you got out I wasn’t really thinking about that as much.”

Mickey blew out a breath, so quietly Ian barely noticed it. Ian stood, wiping his sweaty forehead and plopping down on the bed next to Mickey, folding his legs so their knees were almost touching— but still giving him space, still letting him breathe.

“Why’re you asking?”

“Don’t know, really. Just thinkin’.” Mickey picked at his shirt sleeve again, then flickered his gaze up to meet Ian’s eyes, two clear pools of glassy blue. “Thinkin’ about what life could’ve been like. If I wasn’t scared shitless of who I was for so long.”

Ian felt something twist in his gut, the same queasy pang of pain that always resurfaced whenever he saw Mickey like this, whenever he was reminded of all the unspeakable agony that Terry had put him through.

“It’s fucked up that you didn’t get to be who you were for so long, Mick,” he breathed, knowing that statement didn’t cover the amount of things that were fucked up about this situation.

Mickey ran his teeth over his bottom lip, like he was concentrating. “Yeah.”

Ian let them sit there for a second. It seemed like Mickey wanted to say more, but something in him was frozen solid. After a moment, Ian tried to break the tension.

“Hey, for the record, I’ve had lots of gay friends and you aren’t missing much. There’s lots of PC bullshit that’s important but took me fucking forever to learn— and even then, I never really felt like I totally belonged.” He gently nudged Mickey’s ribcage. “I guess that’s why I forgot about everyone, between work and getting to be with you all the time— I’d rather eat pizza in the mall food court with you than go to some boujee fucking café with the youth center people any day.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards slightly. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.” His fingers went slack around the threads on his shirtsleeve he’d been picking at. “You don’t… miss it though? Bein’ around people who’re like us?”

Ian paused for a moment, imagining the youth center crew in the same room as Mickey— it would be fucking comical, like people speaking two different languages, like astronauts trying to communicate with aliens on Mars through gestures and confused looks. But that was just because Mickey didn’t know how to speak that language— he’d been kept shrouded in an abusive household with daily death threats for years, and then stowed away in prison where he didn’t have the chance to go to fucking brunches and clubs and education events like Ian could. Ian got the chance to learn all that shit— it wasn’t Mickey’s fault that he never did, and if it was anyone’s, it was all Terry’s.

Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s face— he looked vulnerable and split open, like he was drifting away in all the possibilities of what could have been. When he answered, Ian spoke softly, carefully.

“I mean… I guess I do. There were nice parts of going out with people, or even those after-parties back when I used to work at the club. There’s something nice about being with your people, where you can make jokes about stuff or talk about deep shit and everyone’s on the same page. It’s hard to find that around here.” Ian tentatively crawled his hand over the blanket, letting it rest on Mickey’s knee. “S’there anything else going on?”

Mickey raised his thumb to his mouth, biting at a hangnail contemplatively. “Dunno, man. Just thinking. How it might be nice, to have friends like us. I used to be scared of hangin’ with other queers, but I think that was just some deep bullshit with Terry.” He looked up to meet Ian’s eyes. “It’d be nice to stop… hating that part of myself, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching to intertwine his fingers with Mickey’s and tracing a pattern with the thumb that was free from their grasp on Mickey’s inner thigh, a soft touch of validation that Ian hoped would soak into Mickey’s skin.

“I think so too.” Ian watched the corner of Mickey’s mouth curve upwards. “I can definitely hit up some of the people I used to hang with, and see if they wanna get coffee or something? With the two of us? Only if you want.”

Mickey nodded— then chuckled a breathy laugh, like he was relieved. “Fuck it. Yeah.”

Ian couldn’t help it; Mickey looked so fucking sweet and so relieved that he had to press a kiss to the top of his head. Mickey squirmed underneath him, bristling like a cat that didn’t want to be pet like he did with most of Ian’s soft touches— but Ian just grinned and doubled down, pressing another slower peck onto Mickey’s temple. Mickey blew out a slow breath.

“Don’t know what I’d fuckin’ wear to a brunch with a bunch of Northside do-gooder gays,” he said after a moment, his voice wavering so slightly that no one except Ian would have noticed.

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, giving Mickey’s hand a quick pulse of a squeeze. “Mickey, are you kidding? Wear whatever the fuck you want. You don’t need to change yourself, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Guess it is.” Mickey was quiet for a moment, but still chewing on his bottom lip, like he was building the courage to say something more. Ian could tell— he let the comfortable silence hang between them, knowing that Mickey would break it when he was ready.

“D’you think it’d be stupid if I, like, tried to… jazz up my look a bit?” He darted his eyes nervously to Ian’s face, down to their clasped hands, and then back to the covers again. “Like, uh— I don’t know. Maybe wore some shit that didn’t have holes in it. With patterns, or whatever.”

Ian felt his face split into a grin. Patterns, or whatever— god, he loved his dumbass husband so fucking much. He pressed another kiss to Mickey’s cheek— this time Mickey didn’t flinch away, his only resistance a forced roll of his eyes.

“Mick, I don’t think that’s stupid at all. I think you should dress however makes you feel good.”

“’Kay.” Mickey pursed his lips, like he was still hesitant. Ian rubbed his thumb over the back of Mickey’s hand, their fingers still clasped and hanging limply in Mickey’s lap. The silence was hanging again, and Ian could still feel the tight waves of anxiety bouncing off of Mickey. He took in a breath.

“I could… help you, y’know. If you wanted to dress a certain way. At the very least I could gas you up and tell you how hot you look.” Ian paused, smirking and running his eyes over Mickey’s torso. “But I could also help you pick shit out, or whatever. We could order some stuff online.”

Mickey looked up at him, his eyes oddly relieved and open in a way they hadn’t been in days. “Yeah?”

Ian softly smiled. “Yeah. Only if you want to. You’re you, and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I love the way you look— hell, it drives me crazy, Mick. But— if you feel like you aren’t dressing the way that makes you feel the best, or like you’re putting on an act for other people and you don’t want to anymore— then we can figure this out.”

This time it was Mickey that initiated affection, lifting their clasped hands and pressing a quick ghost of a kiss to Ian’s wrist. Ian smiled in acknowledgement, then playfully raised his eyebrows. “You wanna look online now? I’m done working out and more than happy to help you gay up your look.”

Mickey unclasped their hands, playfully shoving Ian squarely in the chest. “Fuck you.” Then, in an uncharacteristic move from the way Mickey had been flinching away from his touches all week, Mickey leaned in closer to Ian’s chest, nestling his back on Ian’s sternum and reaching for his phone that was discarded on the blanket beside him. “Alright, hot stuff. Where’re we fucking shopping?”

Ian grinned and snapped the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants playfully, shuffling underneath him and getting comfortable.

“’Kay, let me think. I used to order a bunch of shirts and stuff from Primark when I was going out with the youth center people. They have good denim, too.”

Mickey’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth again while he listened. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the phone’s keyboard— then, in an automatic movement, he quickly shoved his phone into Ian’s hand, cheerfully wriggling back into Ian’s chest. Ian smirked and unlocked the phone, happy to take the reins— online shopping for fashion was clearly lightyears out of Mickey’s comfort zone.

Ian navigated over to the Primark homepage, plastered with torsos of toned models wearing striped button ups and ripped jeans. His thumb pressed down onto the “denim” tab, and he started to slowly scroll through the rows of options, holding the phone so Mickey could see.

“I don’t know what you really want, but they’ve got pretty cheap pants and shit that’re good quality…” Ian let his voice trail off, speaking softly to where Mickey was lying on his chest in a voice that he knew was tickling the shell of Mickey’s ear. Mickey almost seemed… nervous, or at the very least paralyzed by the wealth of options. He raised his thumb to his mouth, anxiously biting the hangnail again.

“I guess those ripped ones don’t look too bad.”

Ian clicked on the picture Mickey was referring to. They were black jeans, a dark wash and skinny cut, with patches ripped on both knees. Ian felt something well in his chest, probably an overreaction to a pair of jeans— but these jeans were perfect for Mickey. They weren’t too much, weren’t overly fashionable, but they still felt more clean-cut than the baggy pants Mickey usually threw on. These jeans were badass, and totally aligned with Mickey’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, but they were deliberate. Stylish. Like they were saying here the fuck I am.

“Yeah?” Ian knew Mickey could tell he was smiling from his voice.

Mickey smirked, craning his neck and turning to look up at Ian. “Yeah. Think I can pull ‘em off?”

Ian pressed his lips together. “Fuck yeah. You’re gonna look so good.”

Mickey just gave a satisfied smile, and nestled back against Ian’s chest again. “Let’s get ‘em, then.”

[mysticmeadowscamp]

i was playin in the rain with some friends the other day and so,,,, imagine the gang hanging out at the sc house and it starts raining and so they all NYOOM outside to play. and vee has cute lil rain boots with little flowers on em. and they’re stomping around in the puddles with pat. and lo and ro are dancing and singing and jumping and they drag vee and pat in. and dee has one of those big puffy jackets on and he’s just like laying in the middle of the road. and he’s by abig puddle. and vee sees him and is like >:3 and jumps HIGH to splash dee. and they start a splashing war. all the while remus is sitting in the porch in a jacket yelling at them that they’re all gonna catch a cold.

just. the kids in the rain. yeah

HDHDBDND REMUS RLLY IS BEIN THE MOM OF THE GROUP