#but hey you gotta contribute somehow

[fireflowersims]

DO NOT USE TEMPLATES TO MAIL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES!

So in case you want to use some sort of template to mail your representatives about the ongoig genocide in Gaza, don't!

To be clear: if you're planning on mailing your representatives about Gaza, DO IT! But DO NOT use a template!

Mail filters are easy to set up and deploy and WILL filter on specific sentences or patterns using regular expressions. If a mail server receives thousands of nearly-identical mails, chances are either the machine employs some sort of machine learning and it'll mark it as spam and disregard them immediately and/or some engineer will type up some extra filters to prevent more mails from coming through and cluttering up inboxes. Make no mistake: this is not hard to do and can be done within minutes.

If you want to get through mail filters, write it yourself. Do not erase typos, do not base your words on templates, but get personal. Do not let your voice get lumped in with spam runs!

Kind regards,

- Someone who has to deal with e-mail filters on a regular basis

More details in reblog

#non sims #gaza #rafah #free gaza #free palestine #palestine #israel #tel aviv #news #world news #I try to keep my job stuff separate from most things bc I would rather not get paranoid about spyware again #but hey you gotta contribute somehow #eyes on gaza #eyes on rafah #we are witnessing genocide unfold and silence will not help #every life that can be saved by talking about gaza is an entire world

[sugoi-and-spice]

Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

Chapter Twenty-Three - I’m Not Okay (I Promise)

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

Even for a Friday afternoon the arcade was way more crowded than she had expected. The group had originally planned on grabbing a bite at the attached restaurant before gaming, but their new addition had created a bit of a logistical problem.

“I’m so sorry,” the Hostess bowed repeatedly and apologetically, “All of our larger party tables are booked for at least another hour. The most we could fit is a chair on the end of a four person booth.”

“Awww, really? I mean how small are the booths? We’re all friends, we can squeeze!” Nejire insisted, pulling Amajiki into a tight hug at the waist to prove her point, much to the quickly reddening boy’s chagrin.

“That’s against our fire code,” she bowed again, “I’m really so sorry.”

Yuyu, ever the pragmatic one, turned to suggest, “I guess we’re gonna have to split up?”

Nejire pouted, “That’s not really festive.”

Mirio, more than happy to put on a show to either sacrifice one of his friends to table with Shigaraki, or make show of how much he didn’t belong there at the moment, put a hand on Nejire’s shoulder, “Hey, we gotta do what we gotta do, right?”

Shigaraki was feeling itchier and pricklier by the second. He didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of gawking attention even under the best of circumstances. And this moment — standing awkwardly to the side as a group of kids already way cooler than he could ever hope to be were actively discussing the logistics as to why he was a complete inconvenience to all of them — was far from the best of circumstances.

He leaned into his one spider’s thread of a tie to it all, whispering nervously, “I’ll just go, this is stupid…”

Mirio, somehow hearing him, as if he’d been waiting for those words frowned “sympathetically” at him, “Awww? Are you sure?”

“Uh, y-yeah…” Shigaraki said, even he was a bit taken aback by how quick Mr. ‘Let’s Make Everyone Smile At All Times” was willing to kick him to the curb, “I-I’m making this weird anyway, right?”

Nobody really wanted to answer. That’s what the group of friends did think, after all.

But then she put a hand, a perfectly manicured lifeline, on his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” she pointed out, “Look, there’s a two seater right by that booth. Shigaraki and I will take that and then we won’t have to squeeze anywhere.”

The group all looked about each other, shrugging and mumbling positively. That really did seem like the best option. The group that needed to be altogether — the friends since elementary school — were indeed, altogether, and Shigaraki was neither ostracized nor isolated with people he didn’t know. It was a perfectly fine solution for all.

All except Mirio.

“H-Hey, those big party tables aren’t reserved for the night or anything right?” Mirio asked the hostess, and upon a confirming nod, he offered back to the group, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not starving or anything — why don’t we just put our name down and play some games in the meantime? Then nobody has to squeeze or split, you know?” 

Another chorus of shrugs and “Yeah, that’s work”’s — and Mirio had his, admittedly, small victory over the situation. 

Though it’s not like it lasted long.

Continue on AO3

#TOMURA SHIRAGAKI #TOMURA SHIGARAKI X READER #TOMURA SHIGARAKI X OC #SHIGARAKI #TOMURA SHIGARAKI #BNHA SHIGARAKI #MHA SHIGARKI #SHIGARAKI FANFIC #READER INSERT #LONG FIC #SMUT #SHIGARAKI SMUT #TW DUBCON #QUIRKLESS AU #SPICE WRITES #MHA #BNHA #MHA SMUT #BNHA SMUT #PLAY NICE FIC

[thatdeadaquarius]

PLS YOU’RE SO FUNNY your pspspsps is too strong I’m back with more asks hello how are you I’m loving your takes on sagau! I thought of a contribution by the power of the pspsps imagine like the languages in teyvat are based on the nations’ real life counterparts (like Japanese for Inazuma) but like only loosely. So creator knows like exactly 3 words in Japanese and think they’re gonna take that and somehow make it work but they get there and understand NOTHING. They finally understand like one word but turns out it means something completely different in this version of “Japanese” so they think someone told them hi and they said hi back but they’re just going around saying “fuck” and no one wants to tell them

ANOTHER ONE YUHSSS LURING BACK IN FOR MORE im doing well tysm for asking ya flatterer!!

aw u think im funny??!! 🥰 well geez here i thought i was just going feral over sagau/isekai genshin stuff and it was like a dam burst and all yall were just coming down with me funny or not 🤷‍♂️

(Hey askers look ive got cookies 🍪🍪🍪 :) if u ask smth ill give u one!!)

Nice to know the humor translates, but holy fuck this ask is like 10x funnier than anything ive written so far or come up with LMAO PLEASE NO ONE WANTS TO TELL YOU-

____________

This is exactly what Portugese vs. Spanish is like i stg

Im not fluent yet but i know a decent amount of spanish at this point, but when i was first learning it i ran into some Portuguese and couldnt really read it and was like?? Oh ok maybe this is too many vocab words i dont get yet, and showed it to another person who spoke some Spanish and they were like ".. Uh, wtf is that?? What is that???🧐😟 Thats not even Spanish, but why is it almost???" And they just kept trying to read it so hard bc they thought it was so close it should work 😭

Anyway the point is i feel like that is just you in this scenario over and over again lol

Its like teaching a little kid language and they happen to pick up the cusswords the best,

Omfg ur around Beidou about to head to Inazuma (bc i like to think u traveling with Aether/Lumine and they r sweet enough not to abandon ur weird ass)

And Beidou just keeps cussing in Liyue's-almost-Mandarian-Chinese-but-not, and ur like trying to pick smth up bc it sucks none of ur little bits and pieces of lang. from ur world have worked so far, and she keeps saying this one word over and over again, to this angry looking Liyue guy, oh hey wait a minute, that's the Mandarin word for "hello"!! Maybe she's using it sarcastically?? She smiled afterward, oh Kazuha's laughing!! Maybe it means smth different? But they still look positive abt it so eh, cant hurt, and you sort of know how to say it!!

"你好 !! (nǐhǎo)", you do a little wave too :)

(I just used straight mandarin for this pls tell me if not right-)

Hey you did it! Sort of, you didn't really do the tones right, and you look over to see if they got it, and oop-

Everybody froze and looked at you, before Beidou starts screaming laughing, Kazhua's wheezing so hard he's leaning on a barrel nearby, the traveler is trying to keep it together, but u can see Beidou's ridiculous laugh is contagious and is spreading rapidly to crew members and to the traveler,,

The angry Liyuean man no longer looks angry, oh, he's leaving, welp, you can tell u did smth funny, but u havent a clue what u actually said

Every now and then Beidou will come up to you and try to teach u more Liyuean words, but anytime the traveler sees it they shoo her off, she has a shit-eating grin on her face, while the traveler looks unamused or is at least trying to hide their amusement

(There r so many characters that will take advantage of this and only try to teach you cuss words, at least at first, CHILDE, kaveh, VENTI, Itto, BEIDOU, Xinqiu the little prankster, ppl i can think of quickly god i gotta look at a character list)

Beidou BEAMS anytime u say "nîhâo" now, and gives u a thumbs up everytime 👍

You learn much later that you probably should just give up trying to say any of your world's lang. That sound equivalent to each genshin country's lang. bc apparently the few words you know from them are either random shit like "egg, bowl, etc." Or straight up explicit "fuck, shit, piss etc."

__________

I didnt have too much to add bc that is a GREAT AND HILARIOUS idea all on its own (esp if u did it in front of more serious characters or situation)

So pls forgive if lackluster writing happened!!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! COME AGAIN!! AND YOU'LL GET A FREE COOKIE!! :]

✨️🍪✨️

Cheers,

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #sagau #gender neutral reader #genshin sagau #genshin sagau ideas #my asks #ask box open #please send asks #come hither #i have cookies #pspspspsps #genshin isekai #genshin god reader

[gethoce]

Hey uh, how does it feel to be that much of a great artist? Like, genuinely, you're so... Like, amazing what you do here, your art? Top Notch, the character designs are so unique, but they all feel like they have a soul, in the best way possible. All intrinsical shapes and sizes, motivations, color palletes, everything is so good. The writing? Stellar, basing your matters on actual folklore, history and mythology is genuinely so great. Your reinterpretations of Canon characters? Incredible, Metamorpho isn't really something I ship yet you somehow made me enjoy it when you draw it yourself, as well as things like Sir Arthur and Specially Morpho give me joy.

Your art is such an inspiration... You inspired me to make my own stuff! Even if I sometimes am jealous of it fjdjdj, like what you do is so good that it makes me a little bit angry, in the best way possible.

George coming in strong once again to boost my confidence. Your comments are very much appreciated and highly valued. Every artist longs for motivational boosts like this. I am flattered, to say the least and delighted to hear that I have inspired you!! eje6e5f2uf

That being said, how does it feel? I’m in constant fear of failure. I could probably easily list like 20 artists I wished I could be more like without even leaving Kirblr. If you ever wonder whether I too feel insecure about my art the answer is yes. I've been trying to find something to work on that the community enjoys in greater numbers for almost a year and failed time and time again. But we keep on going all the same :galathumb:

Anyway, on a brighter note, Metamorpho! Or how I like to call it Morphometa because the Metamorpho tag is terrible for finding art of them which might contribute to the low popularity of the ship. As a matter of fact, it is so unpopular there doesn't even appear to be a ship name to borrow from the Japanese fandom.

What is the appeal for me in this ship? They have chemistry for being warriors of similar moral standing but there gotta be more than that. In the case of my interpretation, spoiler alert, it's the depressed guy and reaper dynamic. One who views himself as a monster that wants to go out as a hero never to be seen as what he is and a one who on surface level is a being of life and light but has hidden flaws that haunt his mind every second of every day. One who sees the good in the other and wishes for him to see the bad in him as opposed to the one who just can't do either. There is a wish to be understood and over time they learn to be just that for each other.

Then Sir Arthur… a terrible person who is trying to become better without ever being held accountable for his action. Someone who thinks he has successfully left his past behind only for potential secrets to be exposed. A man who is willing to switch sides at any second if he sees no way towards redemption anymore. Never turn your back towards this man.

#gethoce #answered ask #i may have rambled a little too much #anyway back to work i go

[bluedemon1995]

As usual I’m late to the party, but I am determined to write something for each prompt!

Below starts my contribution to the Kidge Summer Event ❤️💚❤️💚 Please click on the link to take you to more!

Day 1:

Camping: AU-no aliens have visited and the team are camp counselors for a sleep away camp.

Keith sighs, absently contemplating the choices he’s made that led him here. In the middle of nowhere. Far from home. And annoyingly loud. Absently using a stick to dig a trench at the base of his shoe, he wondered how the fuck he let himself get roped into this? Well, he knows how but the better question was, which adult thought HE was camp counselor material? Not to mention it was beyond the temperature of hell and the kids in his group were driving him crazy. Let’s not even touch on his co-counselors. And it was only day one.

How was he going to last 2 freaking weeks? He found himself digging harder in the dirt, wishing he could just dig his way out of this damn camp. Suddenly, a foot came into view, gently pushing the dirt back into the hole then patting it level.

“Hey, stop moping. I have a job you will actually like, so get up and help me.”

And here he is, the origin of his current problem. “Look Shiro, I’m on my dinner break still, in fact I have five full minutes left, so go find your BFF to help you.”

Shiro grinned, replying, “I can’t, he’s busy tracking down his sister who managed to hide better than you. She’s a first time camp counselor too so you guys have that in common.”

Keith rolled his eyes knowing the next thing would be how they have other things in common and how they could be friends. Yet he reluctantly stood and followed Shiro to what looked like a camp fire space. When Shiro gave him the go ahead to start making the fire, Keith just grumbled to himself but started building the kindling never-the-less.

“EEEEEEE!!! PIDGE!!!!”

Keith winced and gritted his teeth, damn, that McClain guy was so loud! What was he yelling about now? He bet a well aimed punch would quiet him down. Glancing up he sees Shiro’s friend Matt and he’s pulling a small girl with him. Huh...He thought you weren’t allowed to physically, whoa!

“Let me go you asshat! I thought you had my back! You can just Fuck off!” That girl had some lungs.

The girl jerks her arm loose of Holt and proceeds to step INTO him somehow staring him down, despite the fact she was a good half a foot shorter than him! Keith is mesmerized. She’s mini sized but MORE.

“You fucking tattletale! How could you pull mom in?”

Mom? Keith is quickly making the connections, this must be Holt’s sister, the one who hid better. With her volume, there is now a crowd materializing and Keith is wondering how this will play out. Shiro doesn’t look worried however so this must not be unusual.

Matt scoots around the girl and practically runs over to Shiro for protection. Shiro, who is standing to his left, seems to stand at full height…for this little girl? Keith’s eyes however stay on the girl. It’s getting dark, so Keith isn’t entirely sure of her hair or eye color. But she’s wearing jean shorts, converse and a bright orange Bigfoot sweatshirt. She quickly follows in her brother’s shadow and when she misses his arm she taps him behind the knee with her foot causing him to stumble. Keith continues watching this scene and wonders what’s next.

Shiro bravely lets Matt hide behind him and gives the girl his patented diffuser smile. The one he uses when he’s trying to get him out of trouble smile. The one who charms the pants off girls and grown men alike. But not this girl, who stops abruptly, yet even has the nerve to frown at Shiro!

“Shiro, you know I love you but you gotta move. Unless you want an earful too! I know you two,” pointing with her finger and going back and forth between Shiro and Holt, “ cooked up this harebrained idea of ME being a camp counselor, so I’m mad at you too!”

Keith grinned. Yes, someone else who wasn’t on board! Did she just mutter “shit list”?

Suddenly McClain was there, yelling, “Pidgey! I knew you would come and not desert us!”

He goes to hug her and while she allows it, she doesn’t quite return his hug.

“No Lance, I WAS going to stay home, but unfortunately, my brother decided to be a snitch and let my mom know that dad was going to let me stay home. Hence, my presence.” Curtsey.

Haha.

“Ohhhhhh, but it’s going to be so much fun! We get to hang out over summer and Hunk is here too! He’s on kitchen duty now but c’mon don’t be mad.” He gives her a comically sad face here and Keith can’t help but wonder, what’s their relationship?

Why was his arm still around her? And, even more curious, why did he care?

#kidge #keith kogane #katie holt #keith x pidge #keith and pidge #pidge and keith #voltron #fanfiction #pidge #keith #kidge summer event #Kidge summer event 2023

[david-talks-sw]

Hey there folks! Small updates on my end, figured I'd share.

I'm back from the holidays and finished writing a really long post that somehow ties the Netflix limited series Inside Man to the writing in the Star Wars Prequels.

And on the one hand I'm really happy that all that's left is the GIFs... on the other there's this voice in my head asking "how the fuck did this come about?" and "are we reaching, here?" and "this is because you took too much earl grey tea and procrastinated!"

Upcoming posts currently in my Drafts:

"The Lucasfilm transmedia approach pre- and post-Disney sale" (out-of-universe analysis).

"The children in the Jedi Order" (in-universe meta), which has been in my Drafts since February 2022 and I need to update with content and images from Obi-Wan Kenobi and finally finish!

An Ask/QnA post about Force Ghosts and whether Sith can become them (in-universe meta).

An in-and-out-of-universe analysis about Luke in TLJ which is so long I'm not sure I wanna inflict it on anyone because I sort of land in the middle of the debate about that character and it's been such a long while since TLJ came out that I'm not sure it's contributing anything new or even worth sharing, but probably will at some point because I got the images and artwork ready.

An Ask/QnA post about the difference between the George Lucas who made the Original Trilogy vs the one who made the Prequels. Still gotta start that one.

Also:

Got the thing!

Have a great week!

[grigori77]

Critical Role Campaign 3 Episode 38

Matt, attempting to pick between a French and Cajun accent as Gambit ... oh dear ... on the other hand, Taliesin for the Mr Sinister love, nice one mate. Then there's Laura, looking PARTICULARLY cute as Rogue, which is nice. And then there's Marisha, who genuinely IS Jean Grey in that outfit ...

Meanwhile Sam clearly didn't get the memo since he turned up as Mr Fantastic. WHO ISN'T AN X-MAN!!! As the others continually remind him ... also those ridiculous extendo-arms are CLEARLY gonna be an issue going forward. I foresee considerable dice chaos with THAT shit.

Mighty Nein reunion? Really? Oooooooh ... sweet!

Liamreally committing to the Cyclops goggles might be a mistake too. We shall see ...

More whispers of U'kotoa ... XD

IT'S THURSDAY NIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT ...

Damn it ... yet again Marisha is missing from the table. I really am starting to hate this.

Okay, come on ... come on ... this really is gonna be weird if we get super emotional with everybody in fancy dress like this.

FCG: "Lady Vex, is your husband gonna be okay with this?" Vex: "He'll have to be."

Pike says to stay hydrated, kids!

Friend or a fight ... hmmmm ...

Fearne complimenting Pike is still some meta weirdness. That ain't going away any time soon.

Yeah, Delilah's kind of like herpes, really ...

FCG: "You need to hold my hand?" Sam shoves an extendo-arm into Matt's face. He accepts the joke with impressive grace, actually. Somehow Sam does not derail the solemnity of the moment.

Come back to us, Laudna. Please come back ...

Orym making red poppies bloom in Laudna's hair, that's so sweet. ONE SUCCESS!!! YES!!!

FCG: "You may not have been perfect, but you have loved, and a soul that loves at least TOUCHES perfection." Cast Compel? Seriously? NATURAL 1?!!! SHIT!!! Did he ... did he lose her?

Imogen, you're our BEST HOPE. You got this ...

Fuck, Imogen's contribution ... that's just ... fuck, she's crying and I'm crying and we're all crying ... persuasion check ... oh fuck, no ... 7? Shit ...

Gods, please, PLEASE let this work anyway ...

Wait, Pike's all floaty, that's a good sign, right?

Matt, get this resurrection roll right, man ... damn it, he's taking a picture again ...

Oh no ... what ... what does that mean?

Pike slaps Laudna awake! Wait ... MARISHA IS BACK!!! SHE'S BACK!!! YES!!! Everybody's so happy and everything is right with the world again.

Oh gods I love that Laudna's first thoughts are to ask after IMOGEN. That's love, baby!

FCG casts Detect Thoughts on her ... tiny emotional roller-coaster, man!

Vex is aiming a bow at Laudna! Yeah, that's about right ...

Seriously? Sam's gonna take a piss NOW?!!!

It's Laudna. Pike says it's JUST Laudna ... so is she gone? Insight check? Pike seems honest ... phew.

Yeah, they're in Whitestone. Chetney, to Laudna: "It's not like it was!"

Laudna has NOTHING to be sorry for ... hey, stop messing with her, stop telling her it's been YEARS!!! I mean yeah it's funny but still!

Whoa, riflemen? Fascinating ...

Yeah, that's right, WOULD SHE know who either of these women are? Intelligence of 6? Really?

Laudna: "You're very pretty." Vex: "So are you." Okay ... more meta weirdness.

Holy shit, the place is SURROUNDED!!! Yup, that's gotta be Percy. Yeah, it is. I am not even remotely surprised.

Laudna remembers what it used to be as she sees what is now ... oh, the Sun Tree, that's gotta be a hell of a thing. Laudna wants to go to it and I do not blame her at all.

Raise Dead ... yeah, that's right, she's gonna be a mess for a while after that.

Travis continues to roll like shit and I love how enthusiastic he is about it. XD

Laudna wondering if this isn't just one of Delilah's tricks hurts so much ... she's just TRAUMATISED right now, isn't she? She's still imagining the OLD Sun Tree with the hanging bodies ... the kids! Oh ...

Wow, the kid actually getting that she's FUN scary is so sweet ... oh man, Pate is gonna just blow this kid's mind fight now! "He smells funny!" Laudna: "He knows, he's a little sensitive about it."

That is SUCH a different thing from the scared kid's in the first episode, it hits SO HARD ...

Laudna hugs the Sun Tree ...

New Form of Dread ... wow ... she's embodying the Sun Tree in its life cycle! That's so awesome! Like magical therapy!

Uh oh, here comes Percy ... be nice, please ...

Holy fuck ... is he actually APOLOGISING?!!! My gods he is ... wow ... growth, man! Nice one!

Laudna: "I named my pet rat after you." Percy: "I'm sorry?"

The Sun Tree is warm ... EVERYBODY TOUCH IT!!! Ashton: "I'm just enjoying the view right now, I don't know if I can. It's just hilarious." Meanwhile Chetney gets wood ...

Yeah, Keyleth talks to the tree, everybody knows that. Laudna: "Hello, tree."

Vex continues to twist Percy around her little finger and I love it. To be honest I think he's mellowing in his old age ...

Ooooh ... Vex takes them on a tour of Whitestone.

Pike REALLY has to look up at Fearne. I love it. Seriously, Ashley are you REALLY gonna pick your old character's pocket? Whoa ... the holy symbol? Oh boy ... yeah, that wasn't gonna work, was it? Nice she gave her a pass, though. XD

Sam sneezes during Laudna's big emotional revelation. For once Ashley doesn't tell him to stop it ...

Ooooooh ... Find Familiar? Is this gonna work? Oh please let this work, the possibilities for chaos are GIGANTIC.

Fuck, it speaks! That is BRILLIANT!!!

Matt doing Familiar Pate is so fucking mental, I love it! XD this is gonna ne a riot.

Fuck, this just keeps getting better ... and Travis is DEFINITELY creeped out ... Laudna is starting to rethink this and realising it won't actually end ... hmmmm ... oh, yes, he hides in her hair, that could work ...

FCG is reminded of Shithead ... Laudna suggests he use it as therapy. Yeah, that's actually smart.

Awwwww ... Vox Machina memory lane ...

Okay, fancy dinner, this should be entertaining.

Guide Osly Kamida. Okay.

Okay, is FCG actually offering Percy some THERAPY right now?

Oh sweet, a reminder of Taryon and Doty! Awwww ... yeah, actually that might be a smart port of call for FCG actually.

Oh boy, Fearne is actually really asking for a tiny pistol for Mister. A Gunkey! Adorable ... XD Flaming shit, yes ... Holy shit, this is actually gonna work ...

Percy: "Certainly the most interesting dinner we've had in a while."

Imogen's quick thinking helps Vex avoid a Laudna triggering lobster course crisis ... Nice one. Then she checks for invisible guards with Detect Thoughts. Smart.

Mister gets his tiny pistol. Okay ... this could be problematic ... Percy advises Fearne wait until AFTER they leave the city before giving it to him, which is definitely for the best ...

Rapidly prepared potato soup ... yeah ...

One last little talk before retirement ... here we go. Oh yeah, Everybody Loves Manners ...

Oh fuck yeah, the residuum ... hmmm ... AND the Potions of Possibility ... yeah, this is gonna unsettle them a bit.

Yeah, nobody like the Cerberus Assembly much ...

So Percy already hashish eye on the Apogee Solstice, makes sense. Yeah, tell him about Ruidus. The cage, AND the city ... whoa, he doesn't seem surprised at all. That is FASCINATING. Does he know something already? Holy fuck HE DOES!!!

The Divine Gate. The post Calamity boundary between this world and that of the gods. Oh ... so the thing with Ruidus MIGHT be something else, then ...

Bloody hell Sam, what the fuck are you doing with your flask this time? Bloody hell, way to derail the whole episode ... XD

Friends in Vasselheim ... oh yes indeed ...

Fearne: "So this ... I'm sorry, I don't know anything." XD

Chetney compliments Percy on his clock tower. Uh huh ... years of intensity. Yup ...

No Chetney, the world is NOT flat. Percy sets him straight. I doubt it'll take ...

Oh yeah, call up Eshteross' friend to open the tree up for them. Smart.

Oh boy, the moment Percy leaves Chetney starts flirting with Vex. That's adorable.

D'awwwwwwww ... Laudna and Vex bonding ... it's gone beyond just a shocking reminder for her now, she really has become find of her now, hasn't she?

Did Fearne just invite Vex to some bedroom shenanigans?

LIKE a real family? They ARE a real one now, surely. XD Taliesin's costume makes the group hug a bit weird.

Camping trip out by the Sun Tree. Perfect. Oh, and it's warm there too, that works.

Matt: "And we're gonna go to break!" Everybody cheers when they realise the group are FINALLY back together, and NOW they're doing the mTh on JUST HOW CLOSE they came to failing ... oof ...

Yeah, that 2 part Mighty Nein reunion special sounds pretty frickin sweet, my man ...

Oh fuck no not another FUCKING RUIDUS DREAM for Imogen! And she's just IN THE STORM straight away ... FCG is with her, okay, that worked. Interesting ...

Is Otohan there? 16 on a Perception roll ... there's SOMEONE here, moving around in the dust. They go to follow them ...

Not Otohan, someone BIGGER. Hmmm ... ah shit, they're gone. Oh, so they were a ghost ... like with Bertrand ... someone just died? Oh fuck, who is it? Please not Eshteross ...

Really? You guys are gonna try to FLY in this? Well, at least that means they CAN use their spells here. But what kind of spell slots do they have? Ah ... FCG can't use HIS magic here, then. Hmmm ...

Oh, well THAT didn't work ... now they're just getting CHUCKED AROUND something awful.

19 Perception check ... Imogen is the same, but indistinct. Because it's a dream of course, surely. FCG thinks it makes her look cool.

Imogen tries to Message Eshteross through her dream ... no joy? What does THAT mean?

Oh, so it's not her magic, just her WILL that makes all that work. Okay.

And now they're in SPACE. FCG: "Where are we?" Imogen: "We're on the moon, bitch!"

Wake up ... well, at least they got a long rest.

Liam: "Orym's been doing crunches for 20 minutes."

Does Fearne have Speak With Plants? Technically since she just woke up, she could ...

Laudna lets Imogen keep the necklace. She will get a lot more use out of it, after all.

Matt: "So Fearne, are you doing this?" Cue laughter ... arexwe gonna get Sun Tree?

Oh cool, we are! XD I have totally missed that voice ... I love stoner Sun Tree ...

Fearne asks Sun Tree if he has any plans for the Solstice ... Nd he gives her consent to open him up, too ... that's so adorable ...

Oh fuck ... no response from Lord Eshteross ... no. Please no ...

Okay, maybe he's just sleeping. But they need to get back ... they need to contact Shania Twain or whatever her name was ... but first, BREAKFAST!!! It is awful early still over there.

That IS the only face he can actually make, so ...

Chetney in Imogen's dream ... not sure that would be the smartest move.

More flat earth humour ... XD I swear that is not getting old.

Goodbye to Vex, then? Chetney tries to drum up a little extra business.

Oh, here we go ... he finished Imogen's wooden horse ... with no metal of any kind! Special rare wood ... is it called "plastic", perhaps? "By the way if you wind it the wrong way it WILL EXPLODE!!!"

Ah yes ... SHOPPING. Might be a good idea.

Trying to get the horse to work ... Taliesin: "The tension is killing me."

Sam making podcast narration jokes ...

Is it just me or is Matt's Vex getting increasingly camp?

FCG's message to Shania is a total mess ... I am NOT surprised she hasn't got a clue who she's talking to ...

Matt: "THERE IS A GIANT CLOCK ... LITERALLY RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TOWN!!!"

Oh gods ... second message is WORSE ... they're all dying of laughter and so am I ...

Two hours ... REMEMBER THAT, people!

Gilmour's Glorious Goods! OMG!!!!

Oh man ... it's not ACTUALLY Gilmour, though. Just Jerry ... guess he'll have to do.

Ah, the in-game abridged version ... yeah well since it's not Gilmour it's probably best.

Ashton seeks a bigger stick ...

Healing Potions, always a sound investment.

Magical trinkets ... Laudna makes Jerry show off his inner nerd. Oh wow ... NOBODY speaks Elven? Really? Fancy little magic flying griffon toy ...

FCG beelines to Horizon Temple. Ooh, this place is really pretty, sweet statue ...

Ah, here's the Guide himself, he seems nice. FCG seeks answers of the Changebringer. I still suspect he's finally found his goddess. Sounds like I may be right.

Ah, the tongue ... the tongue ... witness Matt die inside a little again ...

FCG tries praying to the Changebringer ... and now he's lost in the town ...

Sam continues to play around Sith his extendo-arms. Cue chiding from Liam: "Samuel!" Laura: "Ooooh, full name!"

Back home through the tree. It's only six in the morning there ... might be all right after all ... whatever, back to Eshteross' place. But CAREFULLY ...

House looks fine ... 18 perception check from Orym ... seems okay ...

Imogen tries another message ... still nothing? Damn it, this is making me crazy now ...

FCG is going to try Locate Creature on Eshteross ... it works, it senses Eshteross. But DOES THAT mean he's still alive?

Cue in depth discussion about whether they can send Pate in to check without him getting destroyed?

Now Chetney's going in invisibly. Is he not worried about the traps?

29 to pick the front door lock ... nice. Now Time for the flying undead rat ... here we go ...

Pate continues to be hilarious. He's ridiculous and it's adorable. Given Marisha's still learning how to have a familiar it's extra fun watcher go mad trying to work out what she's doing ...

Shit ... DOES Pate have Dark Vision?

Signed of a struggle ... oh fuck ... yeah, Eshteross' traps have clearly wreaked havoc on whoever came calling. Not good.

Chetney smells blood ... oh boy ...

Oh, I have missed Laudna's creepy whispers, even under the circumstances they're still fun.

No ... no ... Eshteross is down.

That perception check is BALLS. Chetney is going to get WRECKED going in this room.

Man, Eshteross is a MESS. Perception check for familiar scents ... NATURAL 20!!! Yup. Smells like Otohan WAS here. Thought so.

Chetney tries to move a lockbox and triggers a trap, gets himself AND Eshteross hit. Ouch ...

Nope, Eshteross is OFFICIALLY dead. Argh ... why can't we have nice things, Matt? WHY?!!!

The lockbox opens. Travis: "And I die." Matt: "Game over." Travis: (imitates explosion)

Lots of letters ... oh, there's one for Bells Hells ... noooooo ...

Oh man ... he really did like them. That makes me so sad ... HE LEFT THEM THE COOKIE RECIPE?!!! SERIOUSLY?!!!

Holy fuck he left them the Silver Sun! THEY HAVE A FUCKING AIRSHIP OF THEIR OWN!!!

Matt, being a sadist, makes Travis roll for stealth to make sure he's not tracking through the blood ... 21! Nice ...

They can NEVER remember that bloody name ... the Soot and Swill, good call. Go see Pretty! Yes!

The blood smell on the cane makes Orym remember his husband's death ... and THAT'S IT for tonight! Oh man!

Eshteross, nooooooo ... just when we got Laudna back, too ...

#critical role #campaign 3 spoilers #crit role campaign 3 #campaign 3 episode 38 #matt mercer #marisha ray #laudna #travis willingham #chetney pock o'pea #laura bailey #imogen temult #liam o'brien #orym of the air ashari #ashley johnson #fearne calloway #taliesin jaffe #ashton greymoore #sam riegel #fresh cut grass

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Pavement - Glad I'm Not Dead

Pavement recently wrapped up a tour of Japan/Australia/New Zealand — and the reunion rolls on, with some festival dates coming up and a residency in Iceland. Not sure if they'll make it out to my neck of the woods in 2023 (who wants to pay for me to go to Iceland though???), but I'd love to catch them again — the Denver show was incredibly fun.

In the meantime, let's dig into this fantastic Anazgnos compilation "personally selected from favorite performances via fan-sourced, freely shared audience recordings." The entire repertoire — 59 songs! — is represented here. What didn't they play this time around? I feel like "Rattled By The Rush" is one of the major missing tunes, but you gotta appreciate that Pavement really dug deep into the catalog this time around.

And hey, as I mentioned last year, I was honored/privileged/shocked to be asked to contribute a little essay to Pavement's official tour program. Since that piece of merch appears to be sold out, here's that little essay ...

“What does it mean, a mistake or two?” Stephen Malkmus asked in the dead center of Slanted and Enchanted, Pavement’s 1992 debut LP. Thirty years later, it still feels like the defining question of the band’s career. From their scratchy early singles to the more polished surfaces of Terror Twilight, Pavement’s albums and live performances were filled with what, for other groups, might be called mistakes. Think of how 1994’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain kicks off: a cacophony of jumbled notes, off-kilter rhythms and room noise — all before launching into the majestic preamble of “Silence Kid,” the pieces magically falling into place. Think of how that same LP ends, cutting off abruptly mid-verse, incomplete but somehow completely satisfying. Pavement famously called one of their first EPs Perfect Sound Forever, but perfection was never the point. A mistake (or two) could be just as beautiful.

“Honor thy error as a hidden intention” was one of those semi-mystical koans found in Brian Eno’s legendary Oblique Strategies way back in the 1970s. In some ways, it’s an artist’s “Get Out Of Jail Free” card, saying that an accident can be framed in any he or she likes. But over the course of a decade, intentionally or not, Pavement went even further, building an entire aesthetic identity around finding the meaning in mistakes, in seemingly random lyrical connections, in opposing impulses. After all, this is a band whose breakthrough hit — “Cut Your Hair” — was a song that dealt honestly (and humorously) with the fear of having a breakthrough hit. Contradiction and complexity are the hallmarks of our age — why shouldn’t they be reflected in our music? It might be this tension that keeps Pavement relevant after all these years, with new audiences falling in love with the group, and a hotly anticipated 2022 reunion tour that sees them playing on larger stages than ever before. (Well, that and all the sweet guitar action and impossibly hook-y choruses that send you ba-ba-ba-da-ing into the night.)

“They need to try harder!” complained one of our finest music critics — a cartoon teen known only as Butt-Head — about Pavement. It was a common assertion back in the 1990s, especially when it came to the band’s live shows, with the dreaded “S” word being thrown around liberally. And sure, if you talk to anyone who caught them during their initial run, they’ll tell you about the false-starts and fuckups, the time original drummer Gary Young stopped the show to perform a drunken headstand, or the unpredictable technical difficulties that might have arisen. (True story: the first time I saw Pavement — the Hollywood Palace, September 15, 1994 — curls of ominous smoke began rising from Malkmus’ amp in the middle of the set. It was hard to tell whether SM thought this gear malfunction was frustrating or hilarious. Probably both.) But don’t be misled. Amidst the hijinks, a Pavement gig was, much more often than not, a glorious thing, offering an openness and pure flow that most bands of the era lacked entirely. Here was a rock band that eschewed rock god moves and poses, instead casually inviting fans into a musical universe that could be heavy as a thundercloud or as fun as the most fun day of your life — sometimes within the space of a single song. That welcoming spirit can still be found whenever and wherever Pavement steps onstage. The opening line of “Grave Architecture” said it all: “Come on in.”

#pavement

[luvjjongtae]

What's Real? - Ch 2: Dating

Read Ch 1: Meeting here

Word count: 4.2k

“Wait. You have something there.” Minho reached over the coffee table to gently wipe some foam off your upper lip with a napkin before sitting back down in his chair, satisfied with himself.

“Please, that was just for show,” you said with an eye roll and a glance outside the window your table was conveniently placed right next to. You could spot a couple of paparazzi outside already, bulky cameras at the ready.

“Maybe,” he said in a sing-songy voice, taking a sip from his own coffee mug. “You gotta admit, this is kind of fun.”

“Lying to the entire public that we’re dating and going on free dates? Yes, it is kind of fun.” You smirked back at him.

“Hey!” he responded, putting his mug down indignantly, almost spilling it on himself. “This date is on you then. You can’t expect me to pay for them all.”

“I’ll put it on my agency’s tab. Then it’s still free for me.”

“You can– what?” Minho asked, wide-eyed. “You could do that?” He leaned in close, whispering as if it was a state secret.

“Yeah, of course. We aren’t actually dating. This is just like another acting job.” You finished up your coffee and waved at the nearby waiter for the check.

“Wow,” Minho breathed out, surprised at this new information. “Well, then we better go to more expensive places and make the most of it. It’s not often that your agency will pay for your leisure time.”

“True,” you agreed, pulling out your company credit card and signing the check before handing it back to the waiter. “What ideas do you have?”

He thought about it for a moment, looking off into the distance as he mulled over different ideas. Then his eyes sparkled and he locked eyes with you. “Horseback riding.”

“Sounds fun,” you said enthusiastically. “We’ll just have to tip some reporters about where we are or they’ll never find us.”

“You underestimate fans. They’ll find us somehow.”

“Okay, horseback riding it is.” You stood up and held out your arm chivalrously. “Are you ready, sir?” you asked dramatically.

“Why, yes. Thank you,” he said, matching the exaggerated energy and taking your arm and linking them together as you left the coffee shop. You were both prepared now for the clicks and flashes of paparazzi cameras as you walked together to a waiting car. You took a moment before you followed Minho into the car to wave and throw some peace signs at the cameras. You wanted to show off today’s outfit anyway.

“SM Entertainment, please,” Minho said to the driver once you slammed the door shut and sidled up next to him in the backseat.

“SM?” you asked as the car started moving.

“You have an off day, right?” he asked, looking at you hopefully. “Do you want to come to see me practice, maybe? You could even meet the members.”

He was looking at you with his shining, big doe eyes that you couldn’t deny him. “Of course, that sounds like fun. I don’t have any other plans today.”

“Perfect. They know we aren’t actually dating,” Minho explained. “They might tease you about it though, especially Kibum. They keep saying that it’s only fake dating ‘for now.’” Minho made some quotation marks with his fingers.

“I can handle it, don’t worry,” you said, patting his leg lightly next to you. You had been fake dating now for three weeks and had become good friends. You were both comfortable with each other, and you didn’t overthink the simple gestures. You were just friends. He bounced his leg up and down in response, a nervous habit, you noticed. You decided to break some of the tension that had accumulated in the car by asking, “So what are you practicing for?”

He told you all about the upcoming album concept and the work that had gone into it, explaining that he even had contributed to writing some of the raps for this album. You let him talk excitedly about SHINee and the comeback the entire car ride, glad to see him so passionate about a project. And when you arrived at SM headquarters, Minho guided you up to the large and open practice room where the whole dancing team and the rest of SHINee itself were waiting.

“Oh, ho, ho,” one of them said when Minho walked in with you. “It’s Minho’s lover,” he cooed.

“This is Key, or Kibum,” Minho said, introducing him to you. “He’s the one I warned you about.” He gave Kibum a pointed look.

Kibum raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, it’s not just me. You two are literally holding hands.”

You and Minho both rapidly glanced down and realized that you were - indeed - both holding hands the entire time up to the practice room. You let go first, wiping your hand on your legs. “Oh, we just forgot.”

“Uh-huh,” Kibum said, not convinced.

“Anyway,” Minho interrupted loudly. “This is Jonghyun, Taemin, and Onew - or Jinki.” He gestured to each of the members who waved and bowed slightly to greet you.

“Hey, everyone,” you said awkwardly waving back. “I’m–”

“We’ve heard all about you, don’t worry,” Taemin interrupted, coming up to Minho and nudging him in the side. “Minho won’t stop talking about you.”

“I– that’s not exactly true,” Minho said, nudging Taemin aggressively back and giving you a sheepish look.

“All good things,” Jonghyun said, coming up to you. He examined your face. “You picked a real winner, Minho.”

“Stop it! You guys!” Minho was practically wrestling with Taemin at this point.

Jinki came up beside Jonghyun. “Let them breathe,” he said pulling Jonghyun away with him towards the center of the practice room. “Sorry about that,” he called back to you.

Minho had managed to throw Taemin off of him now, and he looked at you with concern. “I’m so sorry. They’re so much work.”

“Not as much work as you!” Kibum called from the opposite side of the practice room.

Minho huffed out in frustration and ushered you towards the side of the practice room, some chairs set up already. “Just ignore them and everything they said before. I really don’t talk about you that much. I promise. Just a decent amount, you know, like how much friends talk about each oth–”

“Minho.” You held his shoulders to stop him from rambling. “It’s okay. I’m flattered, honestly.”

Minho’s cheeks reddened a bit and he bowed his head in embarrassment. “Okay, then I’m glad. I better, um, get to practice,” he said, pointing towards the rest of the dancers all warming up in the center of the room.

“Go, go. I don’t wanna hold you up,” you said, shooing him away. You watched the rest of the dance practice and caught up on social media at the same time, feeling Minho’s watchful gaze on you every once in a while and shooting him an encouraging, friendly smile whenever you noticed.

-----

“Woah. Easy there, buddy,” you said, pulling back on the reins of your horse. You turned him around in place, letting him walk a little bit and release some energy, and caught Minho’s eye as he mounted his own stallion. “Can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

“On SM’s tab and everything!” he said excitedly, grabbing his horse’s reins securely. “I finally figured out how to finesse that.” Minho smiled at you, pure bliss and excitement on his face.

“Mr. Choi here tells me that he’s done this before,” the specialist who had helped you mount the horses said. He stood in front of both of your horses, lightly stroking their muzzles. “So just follow the path and call us if there is an emergency. Service still works over there.” Then he patted the horses and walked away.

You looked over at Minho quizzically. “Have you really done this before?”

“Um…maybe once or twice,” he said pulling tighter on his reins and clicking his heels to get his horse moving. You noticed some other riders from the corner of your eye filming you with their phones. The public had found you, and before the end of the date, you would both be trending on social media again. It was just the way it worked with these public dates.

You followed quickly behind Minho. “You said that so we can be alone, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” He dragged it out teasingly. “If not, there’s just this random trainer with you the entire time. It’s so awkward.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, following Minho onto the trail. The first stretch was just an open field, long grass flowing in the wind on either side of you. You felt the steady hoofsteps of your horse, rocking you back and forth rhythmically. “Well, it’s nice to get some time alone with you.”

Minho’s horse stepped on a rock and almost slipped. He pulled back sharply on the reins, willing him to stay upright. Once he steadied himself, he carried on stepping carefully. “Ranger, be careful,” Minho warned stroking his mane. “I agree though. About the alone time,” he responded quietly to you.

You both trotted side-by-side along the field in comfortable silence, hearing the soft hoof steps of your horses on the well-worn dirt path beneath you. You turned around to see how far the ranch was behind you, and at this point, it was just a speck far in the distance. “Looks like we’ve gone pretty far.”

“Oh yeah,” Minho said, turning back to see as well. “I got us the longest trail.” Then you heard his phone ding with a notification, and he reached into his jacket pocket to pull it out.

“Hey, no texting and driving,” you laughed.

“I can multi-task,” he said, moving both of his reins to one hand to check his phone. He rolled his eyes when he read the text.

“Who was it?”

“Kibum,” he sighed out, stuffing the phone into his pocket again.

“What did he say?”

“You don’t want to know,” Minho said, looking away at the trees that had started forming overhead as the trail entered a forest area.

“But I do,” you whined out playfully. “Your friends are so much fun.” After that first meeting in the practice room, you had gone a few more times with Minho to SM on your off days, enjoying talking with the members. They still always teased that you were actually dating, but it didn’t bother you. It seemed to really bother Minho though, you noticed. “Is it about us actually dating?”

“Yes,” Minho said curtly.

“You know, it’s okay if they think we’re actually dating. I mean, so does the rest of the public,” you said with a slight laugh.

“But we aren’t really,” Minho said softly, staring unblinkingly at the reins in his hands.

“Right,” you said, looking away too. It just got awkward very fast. You changed topics. “So, anyway, have you watched that new Netflix drama yet?”

The rest of the date went by like it usually did, both of you casually conversing like friends did as you walked through the entire two-hour trail. At one point you both decided to test your limits and attempted to gallop across the field back to the ranch. You both laughed hysterically when Minho’s horse stayed parked and refused to do so, settling for nothing faster than a trot. Minho wanted to switch horses with you but you told him no, insisting that Ranger was the perfect horse for him: stubborn and handsome.

But that awkward moment from earlier stayed in your mind. You hadn’t really talked about when the fake dating would officially end…or if it even would in the first place. You side-stepped the question whenever Lily brought it up and avoided the awkward situations with Minho. But what did you both want?

These thoughts haunted you for another busy week filled with long days of shooting and interviews. You were only able to see Minho one time that Saturday, and he kept saying that it was going to be a “fake date to remember” every time you called.

“What’s so special about this date?” you asked the day before you were scheduled to see each other.

“You’ll see,” he said. You could hear some singing and talking in the background. He must’ve just finished recording. “I went all out for this.”

“Is it on SM’s tab again?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, yes,” Minho said. “But it was all my idea. You have to give me some credit.”

“I’ll give you credit when I see what you have ready. For all I know, you’re taking me to a street stand to eat tteokbokki.”

“Wait, actually that’s a good idea,” Minho said.

You laughed in response. But then you caught Lily waving you over for the next scene you had to shoot and said, “Okay, I gotta go now. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye! Have fun shooting,” he said excitedly. And right before he hung up, you could’ve sworn you heard him make a kiss sound. Shrugging off the way your heart raced a little at the thought that he had sent you a kiss over the phone, you ran over to meet with Lily and start the scene.

When Saturday rolled around, you sipped on your iced coffee as you waited outside your apartment lobby for Minho to pick you up. He said he wanted to drive this time, and you were excited to be in the front seat for once. You watched the sun slowly set over the city buildings across from you, illuminating the street in a soft halo of golden light.

You finished up drinking your coffee and threw it out, thinking about how Lily always warned you against having caffeine in the evening. But your entire day of shooting was so long and draining that without any caffeine you could fall asleep on your date with Minho. Minho was so excited for this date the entire week that you couldn’t fathom doing that to him.

Just as you thought that you saw a sleek red sports car pull up on the curb in front of your apartment building. Grabbing your things, you went outside and let out an impressed whistle when you saw the car. “Wow, nice ride.”

Minho stepped out from the driver’s seat, beaming with pride at your reaction. He walked around the front of the car, touching the front of it delicately. “Right? Just finished paying her off,” he said, taking your hand and courteously guiding you into the passenger seat.

You waited for him to get into the driver’s seat before asking, “So…where to?”

“Still not telling you,” he said as he turned on the car and smoothly started driving. “Buckle up because it’s a good forty-five minutes away.”

“God, are you taking me to some abandoned warehouse or something?” you said with a laugh as you clicked your seatbelt into place.

Minho only hummed out in response, eyes focused on the road. “It’s a surprise, I told you. Now put some music on or something. It’s too quiet.”

“You got it, babe,” you said jokingly, reaching over to connect your phone to the aux. You glanced over and saw Minho tense a little at the nickname and quickly added, “I mean fake-babe.” Oh no, he didn’t like it.

Minho forced out an awkward chuckle. “Fake-babe, that’s funny.” His eyes did not stop staring at the road in front of him, and you decided to ease the tension with some upbeat songs from your playlist.

Most of the ride went on in comfortable silence. You made the occasional comment about the surroundings, noticing that he was driving you outside of the city. Maybe he really was taking you to some abandoned warehouse…

“Minho?”

“Hm?” he responded, glancing over at you as he drove.

“Will you tell me now where we’re going, please?” you asked, with the whiniest baby voice you could muster. The sun had set by now, and everything around you was dark, save for the road immediately in front of the car, lit up bright from the car’s headlights.

“Fine, since we’re basically here now.” Minho turned the car left, pulling into the parking lot of a large domed building. “We’re at a planetarium,” he said gleefully as he parked the car close to the front doors. You could faintly make out a sign at the front that read in big letters “National Planetarium and Space Museum.”

“Why a planetarium?” you asked once you both had exited the car and walked together to the doors.

“Because we’re stars!” Minho smiled proudly at his joke as you went inside, the cool rush of the air conditioning giving you goosebumps.

“You’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?” you teased, nudging his arm next to yours softly. You looked around and realized the entire place was empty. But the lights were on and the doors were definitely unlocked. “Minho, where is everyone?”

“I rented the place out,” he said, back turned towards you as he studied the directory.

“You– what?” you asked incredulously. “You didn’t have to do that, Minho. We could’ve been seen in public here.”

“I’m tired of everything being for the sake of the public.” He seemed to find what he was looking for on the directory and, satisfied with himself, turned to look at you, holding his arm out. “Let’s do something alone for once.”

“Okay…” you said with some hesitation as you locked arms with him, letting him guide you through the museum. Wasn’t the point of the fake dating to be seen in public? You didn’t say that out loud though, focusing on how soft Minho’s skin felt against yours instead.

He walked you both past statues of planets, diagrams of the constellations, and even some interactive space arcade games for kids to play. When you reached a set of large double doors with a sign saying “Show Room” above it, Minho pulled open the doors and led you inside the pitch-black, mostly empty room.

“I can’t see anything,” you said into the darkness, holding on tighter to Minho’s arm just in case you tripped on something. “Is there even anyone here to work this room?”

“They told me how to do it. Wait here,” Minho said, untangling his arm from yours and leaving you standing. You let your eyes adjust a bit to the darkness but still couldn’t see past your own two hands. Minho turned on his phone flashlight and you saw him working behind a desk with buttons and screens. “I think I just need to press this.” He pressed a button, something beeped, and the dome above you lit up with hundreds of fake stars. “Ta-dah!” He turned off his phone flashlight so that the only light came from the stars.

You admired the sky above you, the stars twinkling beautifully. “This is amazing, Minho,” you said, feeling him come up beside you again.

“It’s nice and peaceful. Just us two.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, still in awe at the realistic night sky overhead.

“This is what the sky above us actually looks like without any light pollution. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you said, reaching out and holding Minho’s hand in yours. The moment just felt right.

You felt his breath hitch slightly. He cleared his throat. “Well, I figured we could have a picnic here. If you want, that is.”

“Of course. That sounds nice.”

Nodding slightly, he let go of your hand and reached into the tote bag he brought down from the car to pull out a large blanket, laying it down at the center of the room. “There. I didn’t bring any food so it’s just a picnic blanket, really,” he said with a small laugh.

You and Minho laid side to side on your backs on the blanket, your fingers touching ever so slightly. You felt Minho’s hand twitch. “This is a great date idea. Thank you,” you said up at the night sky.

“I felt like I had to make up for not being able to see you all week,” Minho said quietly.

“We’re both busy people. That’s just the way things are.”

“I know. I just wish I could see you more often.” His sentence lingered in the air, the implications of it too much to unpack now.

“How long have we been doing this now? One month?” You turned to your side and perched your head upon your hand, your elbow digging into the blanket.

“Five weeks,” Minho said, avoiding your gaze.

“Hm,” you said thoughtfully. “I wonder when they’ll tell us to stop.”

“What if…” Minho started. He sighed deeply but then seemed to make his mind up about something. “What if they don’t tell us to stop?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if they say it’s up to us?” he asked, turning his head to look at you now.

“Well, then I guess we decide when to end things,” you said.

“Right.” Minho turned back to look at the stars, contemplative. “I don’t want to think about that anymore,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“You were the one to bring it up,” you said, laying back down on your back and scooching yourself closer to him so that your sides were pressed together. He felt warm against you.

“Sorry, let’s only talk about happy things now,” he said. His breathing was deep and steady.

“Okay.” And so you discussed the stars above you, pointing up at every constellation you thought you could decipher and trying to explain to Minho that those stars definitely formed the Big Dipper. After an hour or so of talking underneath the stars, you sat up, rubbing your slightly aching back.

“Does your back hurt?” Minho asked, concerned.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve just been laying down for too long.”

Minho immediately sat up and reached over to rub your back lightly. “I can give you a massage if you want,” he offered, his voice shy even in the silence of the empty planetarium.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You adjusted yourself so that your back was to Minho and felt him start massaging your shoulders and neck. His strong hands went deep, rubbing away knots that had accumulated over weeks of stress and work. “Wow, you’re good at this,” you said, sighing out when he hit a particularly aching spot on your lower back.

“Thank you,” he said, continuing to massage you. “Tell me if it’s too hard.”

“Okay.” He massaged you for a few minutes in comfortable silence, until you said, “That’s good. Thank you.”

He let go of your shoulders, and you turned around to face him, both of you sitting cross-legged on the blanket under the stars. The air shifted slightly between you two, and you thought for a moment that it felt like you were both awkward school children on their first date. You held your breath, waiting for Minho to say something first.

He stared at you for a moment with those big brown eyes of his, and his voice low, he said, “I really like spending time with you. Alone.” He leaned in close.

“Me too,” you whispered out, leaning in as well. Just as you were about to kiss, the stars shimmering above you, the atmosphere perfect, Minho’s phone rang. You and Minho jerked away from each other, startled at the sudden noise.

Minho reached over to pick up his phone. “Euisoo, what is it?”

You made a point to not look at Minho, opting to examine the stars instead. They had shifted slightly from when Minho had first started up the simulation, you noticed.

“Now?” he asked into the phone. He sounded frustrated. “Okay, we’re on our way.” He hung up and almost slammed his phone onto the blanket in anger. “We have to go now. Another emergency PR meeting,” he said to you, voice all business. The mood had entirely shifted.

“This late?” you asked, getting up from the blanket and helping Minho roll it up. “That’s so weird.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We had a great time, and we’ll do this again sometime.” You both rapidly exited the Show Room after Minho turned off the stars, the sound of your shoes clicking on the floor echoing throughout the silent planetarium.

“Yeah, we will,” he said with a deep breath. “You really enjoyed it?” He looked at you in question as you walked together.

“Yes, I did. It was worth all the hype.” You looked up at him and saw him smiling proudly.

“Good,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

You both got inside the car and Minho started it up, smoothly pulling out of the parking lot and getting onto the highway. You checked your own phone and saw a couple of text messages from Lily letting you know about the meeting. This had to do with the both of you, you thought worriedly. You shot Lily a text letting her know you’d be there soon and settled into your seat, determined to relax with Minho in the car before facing this emergency meeting.

__________

Read Ch 3: Scandal here

#shinee fic #shinee #shinee fanfic #shinee fluff #choi minho x reader #choi minho #minho shinee #shinee minho #minho fluff #kpop fluff #fluff #fake dating

[unbridgeabledistances]

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

--

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.  

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing—  it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.  

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity  zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

**

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

#a fluffy premise AND ian being obsessed with mickey’s neck?? #what more could u want #*blows kiss to elias and stella* for u #also yes i did have a word document on my computer titled ‘neck fic’ #what about it #ty for the prompt anon this was truly an experience to write #ily<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless imagine #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction #cw choking

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched - Pt.3

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: cussing, stalking, kidnapping, religion, 

Note: C/N (coworker name)

-

“Man, I’m starvin’. What’s takin’ so long anyway?” He grumbled, remembering the whole ‘first name basis’ thing with the delivery driver. 

He was laid on his back across your bed scrolling through social media, impatiently waiting for you to return. His stomach started to growl.

“Maybe I should go check? But, MC said to stay here so no one could see me.” He said to himself, a slight pout on his lips.

He heard a small shuffling noise come from the living room, it sounded like a paper bag crinkling.

Ok, ya got the food, now don’t be tryin’ to chit chat MC, I know how ya are. I’m dyin’ in here!

The bedroom was a straight shot down the hall from the door, making it impossible to sneak a quick peek without fully exposing himself.

He could hear you talking back and forth with...Alex. He huffed to himself remembering your chumminess with the take out guy. Something just seemed weird to him about the whole thing. 

Somethin’ is fishy about him always havin’ MC’s route or whatever. Does nobody else deliver for that place? I bet he’s got a crush on MC or somethin’. 

“I’ll kick his ass.” He said out loud, his own thoughts making him sour.

He listened again, trying to hear what was being said. He couldn’t hear any actual words, but he could hear Alex’s voice. Barely, though.

Wait a minute.. Is he whisperin’? What’s he gotta say to MC that requires whisperin’?! I gotta get outta here.

Mammon was getting himself worked up, assuming this delivery guy was confessing his love to you. He’d nearly convinced himself to march out there and confront the creep. To hell with staying hidden!

Before he could blow his cover, he heard something hit the front door followed by more shuffling movement. He calmed down a bit, thinking the noises he heard were of you getting the food inside and trying to kick the door shut.

He impatiently waited for you to call out, telling him the coast was clear and that he could finally come eat. But, you didn’t.

After a couple minutes passed with no new noise, he grew slightly anxious.

He stood up and started pacing beside the bed, feeling antsy.

C’mon, MC. What’re ya doin’? I’m witherin’ away! Before long I’m gonna shrink up and turn into a Little D or somethin’..

Suddenly, he heard voices again. Well, just the delivery guy’s voice, still a hushed tone. He groaned to himself.

“If he don’t hurry up and go away, I’m gonna eat him instead.” He grumbled quietly to himself.

Something didn’t feel right though. Why was Alex’s voice the only one he heard? It had been at least five minutes since he heard you say something. It’s not like he just missed what you said because you were too quiet for him to hear, or you just chose not to contribute to the guy’s conversation.

You always talk, to basically anyone you come in contact with, never really knowing a stranger. He’s pretty sure you haven’t gone five minutes without talking since he met you. That’s why it seemed so weird to him. 

That alone wasn’t really enough to expose himself though, was it? 

To say you’ve been through a lot lately is an understatement. You’re sleep deprived and your nerves are shot. With everything that’s been going on, it would be more weird if you didn’t act a little different. He didn’t blame you for not being your usual self.

He still couldn’t shake this feeling though.

A sudden, loud noise outside got his attention.

Was that a car door?

He moved quickly, putting his back against the wall, scooting over to the doorway.

“MC? Is he gone?” He whispered.

No answer.

Screw it.

Very slowly, he peeked his head around the corner, careful not to be seen.

“MC?” He whispered again, louder this time. 

Still nothing.

Somethin’ is definitely wrong..

He fully emerged in the doorway, eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings. As he quickly made his way up the hall, he noticed the door standing wide open. He could see that an older model car was parked in front of the house and you were no where in sight.

Hand still on the door knob, he turned around to call out into the house, “MC, where ya at? Ya know ya left the door-”

Before he could finish, the car outside suddenly accelerated, kicking up dirt and rocks as they sped off.

What the..?

“Guess he didn’t like his tip..?” He whispered to himself.

He shut the door and turned around slowly, only taking a couple steps before he came to a stop. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had.

“Oi, MC! D-don’t ya know you’re supposed to answer when THE Great Mammon calls for ya?” He waited, but the house was still. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

He walked further into the house, quickly looking around the kitchen before heading back down the hall.

Why ain’t they answerin’.. c-could it..? Nah..

“This ain’t funny ya know..” He called through the house, hoping that you’d somehow slipped past him. 

Again, he was met with bone chilling silence.

Slowly, he started piecing all the little weird things that didn’t make sense together like a puzzle. The silent house and wide open door, abandoned food, the car speeding away.. 

The same delivery guy somehow always having this route...

His heart sank.

No, no, no, no!

He ran from room to room in a panic, desperately calling out to you, begging you to answer him.

This ain’t happenin’.. They gotta be hidin’ or something. Yeah, that’s it!

“MC! Where are ya? Talk to me, please!” He screamed, voice breaking around the hard lump forming in his throat, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

No, it can’t be.. It can’t be..

With trembling hands, he dug his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing your number.

“C’mon, pick up. Please, please pick up.” He pleaded as he paced the floor.

His stomach dropped when he heard it ringing within the house, quickly following the sound until he found it on the coffee table where you had left it earlier. He stood there unmoving, staring at his picture and contact name with hearts on the screen, tears streaking down his face.

The weight of it all came crashing down like a tsunami, forcing him to his knees. With his face in his hands, he sobbed uncontrollably.

I shoulda listened to my gut when I thought somethin’ was wrong! Why did I wait so long to look for ‘em?! He took MC, he took MC! Dammit!

How did he let this happen? He was right here, right here, and he didn’t sense the danger. He couldn't protect you again, letting you fall right into the hands of the psycho creep who had been relentlessly harassing you, who was planning to do who knows what.

He had to do something. Anything. 

Get the hell up! Ya gotta go find MC NOW! There’s no tellin’ what this creep is gonna try.

He stood up and wiped his face, trying to compose himself as he switched into demon form.

“I can still catch ‘em!” He made a beeline for the door, stopping abruptly as he reached the thresh hold.

“Wait, it’s the middle of the day and this ain’t the Devildom. A demon flyin’ around on a man hunt would be real bad.” He thought aloud.

People would most likely panic and if history proves anything, nothing good ever comes from humans when they panic.

He had to try and think rationally, as hard as it was. He wanted to rush in and save you as quick as he could, but going in blind without a decent plan could get you hurt...or possibly worse.

He switched out of demon form and moved back into the living room, trying to come up with an idea.

Your phone was here so he couldn’t have you tracked by GPS and he didn’t remember much about the car except that it was older. He didn’t even know what the guy looked like since he’d had to hide. All he knew about him was his first name and that he worked at a restaurant. 

“The take out place would for sure have everything about him on file!” He quickly punched in the name of the place into his phone’s search engine, then suddenly paused.

“Wait a minute..I can’t just waltz in there and ask for someone’s personal info. They’d call the cops or somethin’. Damn!”

He was beginning to feel hysterical. He didn’t have much to go on and every idea he came up with was crap. A few ‘ding’ sounds from the coffee table tore him from his thoughts. It was your phone.

Someone named C/N had sent you a couple texts about work and judging by the text log, you talked to them often.

“Man, I hope this C/N knows somethin’ cause I’ve got nothin’ else to go on..” 

Luckily, he remembered the name of the coffee shop, having heard you talk about work often. A quick internet search and he had the directions. He was out the door like a shot.

With his newfound breadcrumb, he was one step closer to finding you.

-

A bell chimed above the door when he entered the shop, alerting the worker behind the counter of his presence.

“Hi, how can I help you?” They greeted him as he walked up to the counter.

“Hey, is there a C/N here by any chance?”

“Oh, uh, yeah just a sec.” They went through a doorway behind the counter, returning moments later with another person in tow.

“Hello..? I’m sorry, do I know you?” They asked, approaching Mammon, visibly confused.

“No, but you know MC, right?” He asked, uninterested in beating around the bush.

“I’m not sure I can answer that.” They said cautiously, visibly tense.

They do know somethin’.

“Here, look.” He said, pulling up the gallery on his phone, showing them multiple pictures of you and MC together.

“Oh, so you’re the boyfriend. MC has told me about you. Uh, anyway, is there something I can help you with? I need to get back to work..”

“Yeah, has MC ever mentioned anythin’ about a guy named Alex before?” He asked.

Please, please, please

“Alex..Alex..” They repeated, tapping a finger on their chin as they thought it over. “They did, actually. We went to the movies about two months ago, and ran into a guy they knew. It was their usual deliver guy I think? Said his name was Alex. He gave me the creeps.” They explained.

“Why is that?”

Yes! We’re gettin’ somewhere.

“He just seemed..I don’t know, off? And when I met him, I actually remembered seeing him a few days earlier on my way to work. There was another A.T.A. protest and I saw him in the group demonstrators. He denied being there when I brought it up, saying it had to be his doppelganger or something, but I know it was him. When we ran into him at the movies he said he had just got off work, and he was wearing the exact same shirt and hat as the day of the protest.” They informed him.

“Wait, A.T.A.? What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“Anti-Treaty Association. They’re exactly what the name suggests. Everyone involved in the exchange program is public knowledge. Names, pictures, updates on how the program was going, etc. All easily found on any search engine. If he is part of the A.T.A., why would he be friendly with MC? There’s no way he didn’t know who they were.” They said.

This Alex guy is definitely the stalker. I bet if I dig into this A.T.A. I can find him..

“Alright. Thanks for your help.” He said as he turned to leave, C/N took a few steps after him.

“Hey, uh, is MC okay? I know they haven’t been themselves lately, but uh, you coming here and asking all these questions kinda scares me..” They admitted, fear for their friend written on their face.

“MC is uh, goin’ through some stuff. I’m gonna put an end to it though.” His voice was rough, angry. His face however, was full of desperation and sadness.

Mammon thanked C/N again for their information and left the coffee shop on a new mission. He uncovered another piece of the puzzle, new information that could lead him to you.

No one knew exactly what this guy was capable of, but he had the most important piece of Mammon's existence with him. There wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to do, in any realm, to bring you back safely. He would breach the Celestial Gates without thinking twice if it would bring you back to him.

He was going to show them exactly why he's the second strongest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

I’m comin’ MC. I will find ya, I promise.

-

“Get out.”

The scorching heat inside the trunk made you nauseous, and severely thirsty. You felt weak and disoriented, unable to move much. You weren’t sure how long you had been stuck in there before you finally felt the car come to a stop. The lid opened, blazing sunshine poured inside the dark space, making your eyes water and squint reflexively.

“I said, get out!” He screamed.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist hard and yanked you from the trunk, letting you drop to the ground. You were much to weak to try and brace yourself so you fell pretty hard, getting small scrapes and dirt on your elbows and forearms.

You tried to open your eyes to try and get an idea of where he had taken you, but before they could adjust to the blinding sunlight, he tied something around your eyes.

“Can’t have you trying to escape.” He said to himself, as he finished tying up your hands. The restraints were very tight, already starting to hurt your wrists.

“I’m not going to.” You said weakly, your words making him laugh.

“Well, at least your a smart demon slut. Somewhat, anyway.”

Honestly, you weren’t planning to escape. If the opportunity presented itself, you would make a run for it, but you weren’t actively looking for an escape route. However, you had no intention of giving this creep what he wanted, or giving up without one hell of a fight.

Pulling you by the restraint around your wrists, he began to drag you across the ground. He let go of you a minute or so later. He didn’t drag you very far, ending up in some kind of building judging by the change in temperature and the rough feeling of concrete beneath you. It felt a little cooler in here as if you were out of direct sunlight, but the air was still fairly hot and sticky.

You did your best to pay attention to the things around you. The sounds, smells, what little you could feel. Outside you could hear cows in the distance and some kind of humming noise. It was definitely hot, but more like that humid feeling before it storms. You could also smell it too, the incoming rain. That warm earthy smell.

You could hear Alex nearby messing with something metal, there was also the sound of running water somewhere close.

I can’t believe Alex was actually the stalker this entire time... Explains how pictures taken of me from outside my house though.. I wonder what he plans to do..

You promptly chased away those thoughts in order to keep yourself calm, replacing them with thoughts of him, the time you’d spent together along with all the memories that came with it.

How soft and fluffy his hair felt when ran your fingers through it. The way he smelled; not the Devilish No.5, although you did love it, it’s smell closely related to the famous human world version, but his smell. Crisp and clean like fresh laundry or new clothes, slightly smoky like leather because of his favorite jacket and small undertones of warm cinnamon and vanilla.

The always groaned about your selection for movie night but was the first one to get really into it. Having a concert while cooking when you had kitchen duty together, getting in trouble for talking and laughing in class and later being scolded by Lucifer for it. How he always used to complain how bad humans smell, only to find out he started buying your brand of body wash for himself and would also try to casually smell his hoodie after you’d worn it.

The thought of never seeing him again, never experiencing anymore memories like these or the chance to make new ones, kept haunting you. A hard lump was forming in your throat, tears beginning to prick your eyes.

“Aw, what’s the matter darlin’? The abomination you chose as a lover isn’t rushing in to save you like Prince Charming? Imagine that.” He spat. 

You ignored his sarcastic comments, wanting answers of you own, “Why are you doing this?” You could hear him walking toward you, his footsteps getting louder as he approached. The sound stopped abruptly, then he crouched down next to your head.

“I told you, you need to be cleansed.” His tone was very matter-of-fact.

He grabbed your wrist restraint again and drug you another ten feet or so. Easily picking you up and hoisting you into the air until the rope around your wrists caught on something. He let go, your full weight coming down on your restraint. You were suspended in the air, feet barely skimming the floor. 

He checked your ropes to make sure it was still secure with the added weight and gravity, then he removed your blindfold. The sudden change causing you to blink several times.

Your previous assumptions had been right, you appeared to be in a warehouse that had been abandoned for quite some time. Most of the windows were broken, big vines and other foliage creeping into the building. The rusted remnants of machinery scattered around the large, open room. You looked above you to see that you were hanging from a large hook that was suspended by thick chain from a metal beam up above. Far to your left you could see what looked like a large pool or even one of those big basins you usually use to water cattle, with a hose draped over the side. There’s the source of the running water you heard.  

Wait...a stock tank with water, ’cleansed’...is he going to..baptize me?

“Cleansed? That’s been mentioned quite a bit in the dozens of letters I’ve been getting. Well, you would know, huh? Since you’re the one behind it all. What I don’t understand is why?” 

It came off as more sarcastic than you intended, but you didn’t really care. You had been terrified for weeks about the stalker. What would they do when they finally got to you? You haven’t truly felt alone in over a month, as if someone was always hiding in the shadows watching, waiting. Your anxiety has been through the roof and you’re in a nearly constant state of paranoia and fear. 

But, now that he was in front of you, you didn’t feel scared. You wanted answers.

“Because they don’t belong with our kind. Uniting our realms is blasphemy and will throw the human world into chaos.”

‘Don’t belong with our kind’..? Whoa, what the hell..

“Blasphemy? But, the Celestial Realm is on board with it. The angels in the exchange progr-” He cut you off before you could finish, his sudden booming voice echoed through the spacious warehouse, startling you.

He stood with his back to you, facing a long metal table that looked as if it used to be a conveyor or some other piece that once belonged to one of the old machines inside the long forgotten building.

“The exchange program was a joke! Those devils just needed a good cover to get their claws on our realm so they could take it over! Using their dirty tricks and magic to bring corruption and pollute us with sin.” He stared you down like a mad man while he yelled.

This was so bizarre, he sounded insane. Like, one of those people that wore tin foil hats. This version of Alex, the real one, was scary. You would’ve never guessed in a million years that this guy was the same one that you talked about the weather and current events with a few times a week.

“None of that is even remotely true! They just want to bring peace among the realms, to prove that they are not what all the harmful, hateful rhetoric claims they are. So we can all just co-exist! That was the entire point of the exchange program! To learn about the Devildom; it’s people and culture.” You fought back.

His face twisted up in disgust, visibly becoming more and more agitated every time you spoke. He stalked closer, stopping maybe six feet in front of you, staring at you intently.

“That kind of thinking is exactly why you need to be cleansed. You’re a human, or has being a demon whore and becoming the embodiment of sin made you forget that? You are nothing but a weak, powerless human to them. A pawn in their bigger plan, collateral damage if things went wrong.” 

You never cared what assumptions people made or the rumors they started regarding your stay in the Devildom. However, when the very demons you loved and cared about became the subject of people’s whispering, you were willing to fight with no intentions of backing down.

You, out of everyone, who had to live in the House of Lamentation for a year, escaped death from a couple of the brothers, helped them mend familial bonds, and held pacts with all of them, should know better than anyone, exactly who they are.

“You don’t know anything about them!” You yelled lurching forward as you filled with anger, lightly swinging back and forth where you were suspended, the thick chains above you clanking, “The things they’ve been through, they things they’ve seen. The sacrifices they had to make..” You heart ached for them. What happened during the Great Celestial War, their fall.. They’ve been through a great deal and they, along with the rest of the Devildom, are undeserving of such prejudiced hatred. 

“Being demons doesn’t automatically mean they are bad people, just like being human doesn’t make you good.” You stared him down, lacing venom in your words. He squinted his eyes at you, unhappy with your implications. “That fact was thoroughly proven during my time there. Some of kindest people I have ever met, as well as the people I love and cherish the most, are demons.”

You would forever stand behind the program, your now second home, and all the friends and loved ones you made along the way. No matter what this psycho could come up with, you would not be swayed. You knew them for who they are, all Alex knew was hatred.

He scoffed at your words, walking toward you as he shook his head in disgust, eyes boring into yours. He stopped just inches in front of your face. You held onto your resolve, staring back at him intently, not letting him see that you were completely terrified. It’s what he wanted; to feel superior and pass judgement on those he deemed unworthy.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction though; to feed his ego, his delusions. You refused to bow to fear, instead giving it all you had to make sure that if this was how it would end for you, you would fight against his prejudice and hatred until your final moments.

“We will start with the normal cleansing.” He backed away from you, confirming your suspicions as he gestured to the stock tank. “Although I think your soul might be too far gone for it to be completely effective.” He smiled wickedly as he turned around, going back to the table he’d been at earlier and picked up the same knife he’d held to you when he kidnapped you. The only other weapons you could see on the table were a baton and a taser. There was also a thick book you could only assume was a bible and a large jar of water. The most concerning however, was the gas can, thick work gloves, and what looked a lot like a body bag.

“This may call for a more extensive purification.” 

PART FOUR COMING SOON!

#obey me! #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #trigger warning #potentially triggering #obey me shall we date #obey me angst

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Happy Thansgiving!

This year is going to be weird. The Macy’s Parade is going to have no audience. Just people dragging balloons behind them in the empty silent streets of Manhattan. 

I’m still going to watch it though. But whether you’re alone or with annoying family we all need an escape. So here’s a list of Thanksgiving themed fics for you. 

Thank you to anon and @nerdherderette​ for their contributions! 

Vendsgiving (AKA Derek and Stiles Meet at an Airport on Thanksgiving) by jsea

(1/1 I 5,571 I General I sterek)

Derek already hated traveling, so getting stuck in the airport overnight? And on Thanksgiving no less? That was going to be a nightmare.

Then Derek met Stiles.

early worm gets the bird by joosetta

(1/1 I 5,862 I Explicit I Sterek)

In which Stiles sends Derek a dick pic, Derek has no idea what to do and ends up having to cook Thanksgiving dinner as a result.

can't be hateful, gotta be grateful by HalfFizzbin

(1/1 I 6,260 I Teen I Sterek)

"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma."

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the right wrong idea.)

you never said a word by cnomad

(1/1 I 6,867 I Teen I Sterek)

Slowly, but surely, they worked themselves around the circle of chairs until eight sessions after the first they finally found themselves sitting next to each other.

(Or the one where Derek and Stiles meet in a counseling support group for teens)

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

(6/6 I 26,586 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He's got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He's also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he's waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren't great but hey, Derek's a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can't believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There's just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

DILF by twentysomething

(1/1 I 30,871 I Explicit I Sterek)

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

Cupboard Love by mklutz

(2/2 I 32,682 I General I Sterek)

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.

The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific

(2/2 I 82,886 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

Cornerstone by Vendelin

(6/6 I 83,738 I Explicit I Sterek)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #anastasia review #submission

[novaiya]

Imagine Arthur/Sean/Charles communicating with a non-English speaking immigrant reader.

Based on this request: can you write imagines for Arthur, Sean and Charles with a non-English speaking immigrant reader? If not that’s totally okay!! (Imagining the interactions that happen between them and the reader as they try to communicate would be funny ^^)

A/N: This was very fun to write, because at some point, I too was a non-english speaking immigrant. Language barrier sucks, but when you have people like Arthur, Charles or Sean, it sucks a little less lol I’m gonna be honest, as much fun as I had wiring this, I struggled a bit, especially with Arthur. If you look at Arthur’s interaction with people who don’t speak English… It seems like he has little to no patience with them lmfao

~

It was your third week with this group of people. It might’ve been fourth or maybe even fifth, but you couldn’t tell. All the days have blended into a one, long nightmare.

You have come to this country, the new world, in search of a better life, and instead, turned out worse than where you came from.

Thankfully, a group of people have picked you up, given you food and shelter and only asked for a small contribution in the form of basic housekeeping (more like camp keeping) in return. But even that was proving to be complicated, for you didn’t speak the language that the people did. You knew a few words before coming to America, basics like “Hello”, “Thank you”, “My name is…”, but nothing more. You were planning to continue your studies once you’ve arrived, but it seems like you'll have learn on the go. You were picking up some stuff here and there from the listening to camp members talk. You would attentively listen to the leader, Dutch was his name, and try to memorize the words he spoke. Plan, faith, and money would be common words in most of his speeches, and you’ve already learned their meanings.

Arthur.

You were taking a break, sitting on the edge of the camp and sketching on a piece of paper. You enjoyed drawing. It was a relaxing hobby, and it would remind you of your childhood, back when things were simpler.

“Hey there,” you heard from behind you. You turned around, seeing Arthur.

“Hello,” you said, your accent evident even in such a simple word.

“What you doing there,” he said as he took a seat next to you, looking at the scrap of paper in your hand.

You took a second to process what he just said. You heard the word “what”, and thought that maybe he was asking what you were doing. You didn’t know how to say you were drawing in english, so you simply showed him the sketch you were working on, pointing at it with your pencil.

“Ah,” Arthur exclaimed, understanding you. “You’re drawing.”

You tilted your head, not understanding what he’s saying.

“Drawing,” he repeated. He used his hand to pretend like he’s drawing. “You,” he said pointing at you, “draw.”

“Draw,” you repeated, looking at his hands then at a scrap of paper on your own. “I am drawing.”

“There you go.”

You smiled when you understood. Even a single word was a victory for you. The sooner you knew the language, the sooner you could get back on your feet.

“I draw too sometimes,” he said.

You turned to look at him.

He shuffled a bit, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a notebook. He skimmed through a few pages before showing you one of them. There, you saw a drawing of a horse. Your own sketch, in comparison to his, looked like chicken scratches.

“You draw very good,” you said.

A small smiled tugged at Arthur’s lips and he said, “thank you”

You nodded your head with a smile on your lips mirroring his. It was nice to have conversations. Due to the language barrier between you and the rest of the camp members, it was hard to make any significant connections. Most of your conversations only went as far as “thank you” or “good morning”. Arthur, however, has been one of the only people trying to bridge the gap between you and the rest of the gang. He would often start talking to you as if the language wasn’t a problem, and if you didn’t understand something, he would try to explain with simpler terms, using his hands or pointing at things, like he did just now when explaining drawing to you.

“I know a place not far from here,” Arthur spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts, “Lot’s of animals roam there; horses, deers. I can take you there and you can draw them. If you want to, that is.”

You took a moment to understand what he meant. You basically understood every word he said, but was having a hard time of putting them together to understand the meaning behind them.

“You and I go draw together?” you said.

Arthur chuckled a bit. It was not exactly what he meant, but  it was close enough. Maybe he could use that opportunity to get to know you better, as much as the language barrier would allow.

“Sure, we can do that too.”

Charles

You were walking along the outskirts of the camp, taking a break from your chores to enjoy the nature around you. You could hear the birds sing from every tree, and as you went further into the forest, squirrels and rabbits would run around, not paying any attention to you.

When a bunny stopped almost in front of you, you smiled. You squatted down, almost eye level with the creature.

“I think he likes you,” you heard from behind you.

You turned around, seeing Charles approaching you. You smiled at him, before turning back to the bunny, who was still unfazed by your or Charle’s presence.

Charles crouched right next to you, studying the peculiar bunny like you did. He extended his hand, letting the bunny sniff it. You decided to try too, and let out a small laugh when bunny sniffed your hand as well, looking at you and then at Charles.

“He is very nice,” you said with a smile.

Charles nodded. “They can feel your intentions. He probably knows you’re not going to harm him.”

You nodded. You didn’t understand a word he said, but you still made a face as if you did. You wondered what the english word for bunny was.

“What is his name?” you said looking at Charles.

He smiled at your question. Since you’ve joined the gang, Charles admired your strength and work ethic. Even without knowing the language and barely being able to communicate with the rest of the people, you were a productive member of the camp, and have been working hard on learning the language.

He was one the first people that you talked to, and since then you would often go to him when you needed help understanding something. He was very approachable and always patient when it came to your language barrier.

“Bunny,” he replied.

“Bunny.” Your face was so serious when you tried to pronounce the word, Charles laughed a little bit.

“You got it,” he said. “Just gotta practice and it’ll sound perfect.”

“Thank you.”

Somehow, you ended up spending almost half an hour with Charles, studying all the different animals around, learning their names and a few other English words.

“Thank you very much, Charles,” you said when you finally made it back to camp.

“It’s no problem,” he said. “If you ever wanna learn anything else, you just let me know.” He winked at you before going to his tent.

You didn’t understand a word he said, but didn’t need to. That wink said all you needed to know.

Sean

It was nighttime, and most of the camp members were either getting ready for bed or gathering around the campfire, swapping stories and drinks. Due to the language barrier, you usually skipped those events; you couldn’t understand a single word they were saying and it made you feel out of place. Instead, you preferred to spend your evenings at a small table a little way from the campfire with a children’s book in your hand. You got the book from Abigail, who in turn got it from Hosea for Jack. She would lend it to you at the end of the day, after Jack has finished his lessons with Hosea, so you could learn too.

“What you doin’ here all alone?” you heard a voice say behind you.

You turned around, seeing Sean approaching you.

“Reading,” you said, showing him the book in your hand.

“Oh, that,” he said, taking a seat next to you. “I never understood the appeal of readin’. It’s ploddin’.”

“Plod-ding?” you repeated, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, you know, slow. I prefer to use my time in other ways, stealin’ or robbin’ for example.” Even though his voice sounded uplifting, you could see a hint of sadness in it. The smile that he was trying to put on didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You don’t read?” you said.

Sean took a moment before answering your question, shifting a bit in his chair.

“No, not really,” he said. “Me pa never taught me, and after he died I didn’t really have the time.”

You nodded your head, understanding what he said.

Sean wouldn't let anyone know it, but he was really insecure about his literacy. It’s not often that he needed to read something, but when he did, he was embarrassed that he couldn’t. So instead, he decided to own it, act like he didn’t care and that it was his decision not to learn. Lenny had been trying to teach him for a while then, but it didn’t go anywhere. Everytime Sean would get stuck on a word, or his progress would stagnate, he would get irritated and give up.

“Do you want learn?” you said.

Your words pulled him out of his thoughts. “You mean, learn to read?”

“Yes,” you said. “I read everyday. This kids book. We can read together.”

Sean’s immediate thought was to decline. He’d tried and failed so many times, at this point he didn’t believe he would ever be able to learn. But, something about seeing you, a person who barely spoke a word of English, a stranger in a strange land, trying your hardest despite everything, inspired him. What’s stopping him from doing the same?

“You know what,” he said. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s meet here tomorrow mornin’. Maybe ol’ Lenny will join us too.”

#arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #sean macguire x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #charles smith x y/n #sean macguire x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfics

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know, part 2

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!, oral (fem receiving), p in v sexy sex, shitty fiance of reader being shitty, slurs against the french (frog/froggy), angst, LOADS of feels, infidelity, gene mooning over reader to potentially OOC levels, tiny bit of innocence kink referenced, reader gets chatty when horny, untranslated french (bc it’s Gene’s POV so he wouldn’t think process and translate french in his head (let me know if you want me to add them)), unprotected sex (let’s just pretend there’s no risk, yes?), guilt, lots of potty words.

(My fancast for Peter Kelly is Pablo Schreiber but feel free to ignore it.)

Title(s) come from Duet by Penny and Sparrow and Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric. 

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some man- had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“Froggy!”

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss.

“Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?”

With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger.

“No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him.

“You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?”

Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him.

You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.”

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

~

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt. 

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘endearing’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’.

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter’s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the poutiest widdle frog?” 

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her mama’s second husband was one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a little spoiled- and all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

“I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?”

“Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and that is certainly not happening—”

Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before.

“I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?”

“Because you’re not trustworthy!” your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. “You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

“You’re a nurse, Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—”

“Fuck you.”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“Don’t think you can ever put your hands on me like that ever again- on anyone. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away.”

~

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can feel you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse. 

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that he isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a pig, Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and you’ve gotta see that—”

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- just like him?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary jus’ for the sake of it! Jesus, Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t tried to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you, Eugene, but some women don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could beg until we’re blue in the face and we’ll still be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to reap the benefits of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t get to be happy, don’t get to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“Hey,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too. 

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit too quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you painfully clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene knew you to be.

You were better than any of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d gotten you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was you, you, you.  

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both had to relinquish in order to survive. 

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that you were alive and he was alive and there was still a chance for something good to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he needed to remind you that you were something worthy of worship.  

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. 

“I need you,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “I’m so sorry, but I do….Please, Gene! I fucking need you—!”

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it.  The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“Such a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t believe how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from thoughtful to stream of consciousness. It’s endearing, so wildly endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute. 

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised him- the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why. 

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before someone or something would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish. 

He hated it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their fourteen medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight. 

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait, Minette,” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

Focus, focus.

“You were so close,” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing, Eugene—?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘good girl’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth. 

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “Fuck, Eugene….you don’t have to—ohh!”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er, considerable knowledge of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my God, Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “Why are you….how are you so good?”

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean, ma cherie? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more. 

“At sex, Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it good for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“Minette, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt that’s true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“Jésus Christ, cherie,” he can’t help but murmur. “Vous ne jouez pas juste…”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“Show me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for so long….”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis….

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near blinding pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“Shit, I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“Non, non, non, non Minette….just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts deep, your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh, oh!”

“‘S that okay?” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so good. “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“More than okay….do that again- please don’t stop!”

There’s something so…. overwhelming about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word. 

Honest. Yes, that was it.

It was your honesty that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch so genuine and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most glorious creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly he regarded you.

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You had to know what you were doing to him.

How devastatingly close you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good, Ma Chatounette?” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him. 

You’re close, too.

“Please,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “Please please please please—!”

“D'accord,”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….”

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“Ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—”

“Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good—”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m happy,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I-I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry—”

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this….connection you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt this with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry, Minette….I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“I love you,” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe.”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N).  J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour.

But for now, this was enough.

~ ~ ~

(*hides under covers for the rest of the day* OK THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME THIS HAS BEEN MY FIC DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

[twdeadfanfic]

Feral Pt.3

Daryl Dixon x OC

Summary:  Daryl is on a run with Rick when, in a warehouse, they find a woman who attacks them, and who reminds Daryl to a lioness…or a feral cat, and who doesn’t seem to trust anyone, including them, but Daryl finds himself going back to the warehouse, trying to get that feral to go with him to the prison, and to earn her trust.

Chapter 3/10 Words: 4600

You can find my other fics in my masterlist.

Last chapter...Daryl convinced Dana, the feral cat, to go back with him to the prison, though she’s mistrustful of the place and the people, seeming to only trust Daryl.

“Cat?” Daryl called for Dana at the outside of her cell. “Brought you breakfast.”

He had brought her dinner last night too, knowing that she wouldn’t want to go eat with everyone else. He had asked just in case, but Dana hadn’t said anything, and when he’d also told her that he could take her to their doctor to check her, Dana had shook her head, and so Daryl had let her be, she didn’t seem hurt despite her old wounds.

Daryl had passed Dana her dinner through the half open door of the cell and then he had sat down at the outside of it with his own dinner in silence, he sill hadn’t wanted to press the woman with questions. It didn’t seem that Dana had minded his presence, though, she had kept the curtain open and sat down at the other side of the door too, looking at him as she ate, studying it almost, and Daryl had tried his best not to feel nervous and self-conscious.

Dana had kept herself in her cell, hadn’t talked to anyone, but Daryl knew that at least, he needed to have her talk to the council today, or else they’d come to talk to her eventually and she might feel more threatened. Besides, she couldn’t be always locked inside a cell.

The curtain of the cell opened, revealing Dana looking at him, and she knotted the curtain to a bar so it wouldn’t fall onto the door again. “Thanks,” she murmured, opening the door a bit and reaching out to take the bowl of oatmeal, and she went to sit down on the unmade bed.

“You don’t wanna get out of the cell? I can show you around, no one will hurt you,” Daryl told her and Dana didn’t say anything. Daryl let out a sigh. “Hey, cat…I’m gonna need you to speak to the council, okay?” Dana looked at him at that. She had seemed more or less at ease with him, but now Daryl could see in her eyes again that suspicion and fear. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to be afraid, they’re good people, alright?” He tried to assure her. “They just want to talk to you about this place, how it works, just…I know you ain’t dangerous for us, but they need to know too. We got a lot of people we have to take care of. But you don’t gotta be scared of them. I need you to talk to them, please?”

Dana looked at him, then down, swallowing hard, and then back at him. She took a deep breath and finally nodded.

“Alright, alright, good.” Daryl nodded encouragingly.  “I’m gonna talk to them and then I’ll come back for you, okay?” Dana didn’t say anything but her eyes seemed anxious. “You ain’t gonna run away…right?�� He asked half-joking, but in truth, he was a bit afraid of it. The woman shook her head in silence. “Okay…you better not, I don’t want you getting into trouble.” If someone saw her running away, they might get the wrong impression.  “Don’t worry, kitten, nobody is gonna hurt you.”

“Kitten?” Dana said and Daryl frowned at her.

“What?”

“You said kitten.” She was looking at him in a way that Daryl had never seen before on her, like she was amused, and Daryl realized that the word might have slipped, he hadn’t even realized it, and he blushed up to his ears, feeling like an idiot.

“You ain’t no kitten,” Daryl said, flustered. “Kittens don’t bite like this.” He nodded towards his arm. “Feral cats do.”

“You said it.” Dana shrugged and Daryl somehow felt even more embarrassed.

“I…uh…I’m gonna talk to the council, I’ll come back for you,” he said before rushing away.

*

After talking to the council, Daryl made his way back to Dana’s cell. He’d tried to convince the others to not overwhelm her with questions, to not ask about herself if she didn’t talk on her own, because he thought something might have happened to her, that she must have been mistreated by someone, and it was obvious that she was still on edge. He thought the others had agreed with him, they didn’t want to scare her or seem threatening, but they had to make sure that she was not a threat for everyone else.

Once he went back for Dana, she had seemed hesitant, but she had taken a deep breath and unlocked the cell, following Daryl, and so now he was guiding her towards the room that the council used for meetings. Suddenly, Beth seemed to come out of nowhere, smiling at them, and Daryl rushed to step in front of Dana.

“Hi! I’m Beth, it’s good to meet you finally, Daryl wouldn’t let us go greet you.” Beth chuckled.

“Beth, let her be,” Daryl warned, but looking back at Dana, she seemed startled but not scared, and Daryl guessed that Beth looked non-threatening enough.

“Alright, alright…” Beth grinned at Dana. “If you are tired of that cell and want to come talk, I’m going to be watching over the kids at the library.” With a last smile, Beth finally walked away.

“Kids?” Dana asked to Daryl, frowning.

“Yeah, we got a few,” Daryl said. “More reasons why we have to be careful when we bring in new people.” Dana nodded at that, understanding, and they kept going, stopping in front of the door of the council. “Are you ready? Don’t be scared, I promise it will be fine.” Dana looked at him and then at the door. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

Daryl walked in first, making sure to stay slightly in front of Dana. Everyone was sitting down already, and all eyes went to them. “So…” Daryl tried to push past his awkwardness. “You know Rick already, and Carol and Maggie. Those are Glenn, Hershel, our doctor, and Sasha.” And himself…Daryl still didn’t know why they had asked him to be part of the council.

“Welcome, Dana,” Hershel greeted, smiling at Dana, who looked again like she wanted to flee. “You don’t have to be scared of us.”

“I take Daryl has made sure you have everything you need?” Rick asked, giving Daryl a teasing look and Daryl scoffed, but Dana nodded. “Good…you still think that we are going to kill you?” Daryl wanted to kick Rick for being so blunt even if joking, but Dana just shrugged and Rick smiled. “I get it…but you really are safe here, nobody will hurt you.” Dana didn’t say anything and so Rick kept talking. “When I asked you how many people had you killed, you said several, you said for survival and vengeance…”

“Rick…” Daryl warned him, noticing Dana tensing, he’d told them not to ask about that, he was sure that Dana wouldn’t react well to that, and after seeing her old wound and scars, he wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to remember or talk about it.

“I know what’s that, to kill to survive, to stop people trying to hurt you and your people, we don’t like it but we have to do it,” Rick kept going. “It was the same in your case, I guess…can you tell us about it?”

Dana began shaking her head no quick, breathing hard, and before Daryl could say anything, she was rushing outside the room, and Daryl followed her quick.

“Hey, hey, Dana, wait, wait,” he called for her, trying to stop her from running away. She stopped, looking at him, breathing hard, but she looked like she could flee at any moment. “It’s okay, cat, hey, it’s okay,” Daryl tried to reassure her, even if he didn’t know how. “You don’t have to talk about that, it’s okay. They won’t ask again, I promise. I’m sorry they did…come back inside with me, please?” He asked her softly and Dana seemed unsure, scared eyes looking around before looking at him again, swallowing hard. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Let’s finish this and I’ll take you back to your cell.”

Dana still seemed more than hesitant but finally she took a deep breath and nodded. Before knowing what he was doing, Daryl reached out to squeeze Dana’s shoulder. When he realized it, he thought he might just have scared her more, but even though she flinched a bit at first, she gave him that tiny, brief smile, and she followed him inside the room.

“I’m sorry, Dana, I really didn’t mean to upset you,” Rick said.

“Yeah, well, you did,” Daryl grumbled, glaring at everyone.

“I’m sorry…but we understand, we all have blood in our hands here, from people that threatened us, that wanted to kill us,” Rick kept going. “We didn’t want to do it, but we had to. So we get it, we know how it is, what sometimes you have to do to survive.” Dana was looking down, breathing hard, but then she nodded.

“You are welcome here, I know we still don’t know each other, but we don’t think that you are a threat…and I know you still don’t trust us, we understand that too.” Maggie gave Dana a small, reassuring small. “But once we get to know each other a bit more and you get used to our home…I think you’ll be able to see how good this can be, and if you want to contribute, you are more than welcome, we all need each other to survive, we all have jobs here. “ Maggie explained. “Glenn and I organize runs, and everyone who can fight is welcome to help on those.”

“After watching you fight, I think you could be really useful on those,” Rick said, and Dana just shrugged, looking down. “Sasha is in charge of lookouts, we have schedules for those, also for the doors, also the walls and putting down the walkers behind those, we don’t  want them getting too many and throwing down the fences.”

“I’m not sure I trust her putting down walkers next to someone with a pike,” Sasha said…not one to trust people, like Carol, but it annoyed Daryl.

“She ain’t gonna hurt anyone!” He snapped.

“There are also the gardens and orchards,” Maggie said before neither him nor Sasha could say anything else. “Cooking, laundry, cleaning, inventory…and a million other things that I can’t think about now. So if you feel like there’s something specific that you want to do, tell us and we’ll include you in the schedule. But for now, just take it slow as you get used to all these, take your time, and then come to talk to me about it if you want, okay?”

They all looked at Dana, who wasn’t saying anything, but then she nodded at Daryl. “Him?”

“Daryl is our hunter and also goes on runs,” Rick told her.

“With him,” Dana said quietly and Daryl looked at her, wondering if being around him really made her feel more at ease and less threatened. The idea made him feel grateful, and warm, and…weird.

“Daryl hunts alone,” Carol said.

“She can come with me if she wanna.” Daryl shrugged shyly.

“Can you hunt?” Rick asked to Dana who looked down in silence. “Why don’t you help me and my kid at the orchard? More hands are always welcome.” Dana didn’t say anything but looked at Daryl.

“I can take her with me,” Daryl said, couldn’t stop himself with her looking at him like that. “We can patrol the woods near the prison while I hunt, see if there’s people or walkers in the woods or coming, we had already talked about that once, about setting a perimeter around the prison,” he told Rick. “We also can…dunno, collect whatever plants you want now or anything you want from the woods…I’m gonna be out hunting there anyway, so…” He shrugged, saying the first things that came to his mind. “And you are always saying what if I run into walkers alone while hunting, like if I couldn’t put them down by myself,” he scoffed. “So…she can watch my back.”

“He’s always snapping when someone mentions him going outside alone but now he’s going to take the new girl who we don’t know anything about to watch his back,” Sasha murmured and Daryl glared at her, flustered.

“We already have the lookouts to see if something is approaching but…okay.” Rick nodded and Daryl hoped that he could see how Dana felt reluctant to be with someone else, still scared, but maybe soon she’d feel better and then she would decide to work on something else…Daryl wasn’t sure how he felt about it, though. “We have enough walkers coming to push at the fences all the time, if you can see a group of them coming from the woods  it’ll be good to know in advance, just don’t go for them yourselves and be careful, alright?”

“You’re always saying the same every time I go out hunting.” Daryl rolled his eyes but in truth, he was grateful that Rick and everyone else cared for him the way they did, it was something that he hadn’t felt before. He did care for them too. “We ain’t gonna jump on a herd by ourselves.”

“Yeah? I don’t know, she looks like she might,” Rick said, but Daryl could see that he was joking and he hoped that Dana could too. “And you aren’t the most sensible person here.” Daryl scoffed, but couldn’t stop his smirk. “Alright…that sounds good to you?” Rick asked to Dana, who nodded in silence.

“As long as you don’t come back without having hunted anything.” Carol shrugged.

“I won’t, you should know it already.” Daryl rolled his eyes.

“It’s settled then.” Rick nodded.

“That’s all?” Daryl asked and Rick nodded. “Alright…we’ll be leaving for hunting and patrol tomorrow, we’re good enough in food for today.”

“Welcome here, Dana, we’ll see you around,” Glenn smiled. “We’ll let you know when we plan a run to see if you want to come.”

“Let us know if you need something,” Maggie added.

*

Once in her cell, Dana locked the door and went to sit down on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and she looked at him in silence, at the other side of the door.

“Are you okay?” He asked her softly, and she shrugged but nodded. “It wasn’t that scary, yeah?” He half-joked. “Those people? I promise they’re good people, they’re my family. You’re one of us too now, you’re gonna be safe here. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t wanna, alright?” Dana nodded, looking down in silence.

Daryl didn’t know what to do or say and he just looked at her in silence for a while, until he heard footsteps on the corridor.

Looking to the side, Daryl saw Rick approaching, and he rushed to meet him before he reached the cell. “She talked to the council already.”

“I know, I know.” Rick gave him an amused smile. “Beth was right, you’re a guard dog now.” Rick chuckled and Daryl scoffed, looking down shyly.

“Yeah, well, she’s scared and you all ain’t making it better, told you not to ask her…” He grumbled.

“I know, I came to talk to you about that.” Rick nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset, but if there’s a threat, we have to know.”

“She ain’t no threat!”Daryl snapped.

“I know, I don’t think she’s a threat to us, I hope we’re right,” Rick said. “But whoever she killed, if they were from a group, if they’re dangerous and maybe near the warehouse where we found her, we have to now, it’s not that far.”

Daryl hummed, frowning. Rick was right on that, but he didn’t know how to ask Dana. “I don’t know…I think she might have ended them all, of that she comes from far away.” That was the impression he got. “Whoever they were…I think they abused her, tortured her, or something, she’s all marked.” Daryl felt his blood boil at the thought. “You’ve seen her, she’s traumatized and scared.” They couldn’t expect her to just open up and trust them as nothing.

“Yeah…” Rick nodded. “I’m not blind, I know she’s gone through shit. I told you, you did well, getting her to trust you, bringing her here. You’re good at that, at recognizing good people that need help and bringing them to safety.” Rick squeezed his shoulder and Daryl shrugged, looking down shyly, feeling like an idiot when he realized he was getting emotional.  “I don’t think it’s good for her that she’s all the time in a cell.”

“Yeah…” Daryl agreed, but he didn’t know how to tell feral cat that.

“Why don’t you show her around, she hasn’t seen anything yet, she doesn’t know anyone. The more she stays hidden, the more intrigued people is going to be,” Rick said. “Show her where’s everything, maybe take her to the yard so she can get some air? She hasn’t left that cell in almost two days.”

“I can try…” Daryl said, unsure of how she was going to take it.

“Okay…also you might consider to stop staying all day sat down outside her cell like a guard dog looking at her, I know you mean well but it’s getting weird,” Rick joked, chuckling, and Daryl scoffed, flustered.

“Don’t you have nothing useful to do besides bothering me?” He grumbled and Rick just chuckled more.

“Not half as fun…but yes, I’m going to get Carl and we’ll be working on the gardens, the tomatoes are looking good, you can bring Dana to see the gardens if she wants to, maybe she’ll like it? I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell her…” Daryl shrugged, he had no idea of what Dana might like, what might make her feel more at ease and trust them and the place.

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

Rick walked away and Daryl walked back to Dana’s cell, who looked at him when she noticed him. “Hey, cat…why I don’t show you the place? You don’t know it yet,” he told her and Dana didn’t say anything. “You don’t need to see anyone or talk to anyone.” She still didn’t say anything, just looked at him. “Come on, you can’t be all the time in a cell like if we had you captive, yeah?”

Dana shrugged but finally she nodded, and she opened the door of the cell, getting out and walking with him. Daryl decided to show her the inside of the prison before taking her to the yards, and he toured her around awkwardly while he showed her the important places , he’d never showed anyone around before and he felt a bit silly. On her side, Dana seemed to look at everything around her, seeming amazed and still nervous and anxious.

People looked at them, some waved and smiled, but Daryl was glad that nobody approached them to try to speak with Dana if she didn’t approach first, giving her space, though he wondered if she’d go to speak to any of them by her own will at some point, or if she’d just rather keep staying in her cell…Daryl didn’t know how to go about that or help with it.

“And that’s the library.” Daryl pointed at it. “Sometimes the kids are there reading books, or learning stuff…” Honestly, he wasn’t very sure of what they did, some old world homework but he thought that Carol trained them to protect themselves too. They kept walking until Daryl stopped in front of some other rooms. “So, this is the food inventory, if you want to eat something just come here and ask whoever is doing inventory that day, then that’s the kitchen, and we eat there.” He pointed at the big cafeteria room. “Or outside at the yard, depends on the weather. Some people eat together but you don’t have to, I don’t eat here half of the time.” He shrugged. “I think Carol maybe is at the kitchen now, I ain’t sure…”

“She doesn’t like me,” Dana murmured.

“Nah, nah, it ain’t that…she just…she ain’t one to trust easily, yeah, but she will,” Daryl tried to assure her and Dana shrugged.

Next, Daryl took her outside. There were more people there, but most were working on something. A couple was just sat down on the picnic tables, and they waved at them. Daryl waved awkwardly back, still not used to everyone always greeting him and even stopping him to talk to him.

“So…you see those walkers?” He pointed at the fence and the people stabbing walkers through it. “We take shifts to clear them, they push at the fence all the time, and if they’re too many they’ll throw it down, we can’t let walkers get in here,” he explained and Dana nodded. “Once a day, when it’s clearer, Rick takes the pickup and gets all the bodies, takes them to the woods to burn, sometimes I go with him, sometimes Tyreese, he’s Sasha’s brother…”

“Those are all the watchtowers, there’s always someone on them taking watch, we got sniper rifles.” Daryl pointed at them, feeling a bit awkward and stupid, it wasn’t like Dana couldn’t see them by herself. “Sasha’s almost always on one of those.”

“Hates me…” Dana muttered.

“Nah, nah, she doesn’t,” Daryl assured. “Just give her time to trust you.” From the nearer watchtower, Maggie and Glenn waved at them. “Yeah, besides runs, Maggie and Glenn spent a lot of time in the watchtower too…think they use it to be alone away from everyone.” Daryl scoffed, smiling when he noticed Dana’s tiny smirk.

“And those are the gardens and all that, we got a lot of crops,” Daryl explained, and there were also pots with plants everywhere lately. “Hershel was a farmer before, so yeah, that’s good.” Some people were working on the orchard, including Rick and Carl, and Daryl nodded towards them. “That’s Carl, he’s Rick’s kid, he’s a great kid.”

As they kept walking, now towards the gates, one of the doors of a cellblock opened and Beth walked outside carrying Judith, and she smiled and waved at them.

“A baby…” Dana said and Daryl was not surprised that she sounded shocked.

“Yeah, Judith, she’s Rick’s too, she’s wonderful,” Daryl said, unable to stop his smile as she looked at the baby. “See, we got a lot of people here that we gotta protect, that’s why people is suspicious and worried when someone new comes.” Dana nodded, understanding. “They’ll get used to you soon.” He hoped that Dana got used to them too, that she bonded with more people and were happy, though he wasn’t minding to have her around, and he wasn’t looking forward to be replaced, if he was honest, surprisingly or not. “We got animals too, we built them stuff, we got pigs and horses, wanna see them?” Dana nodded eagerly.

“Rider coming!” One of the watchtowers announced before they could go anywhere. “It’s Michonne!”

Dana looked at him, seeming worried, but Daryl couldn’t help his smile. Michonne had been away for a few days by now. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to be scared, she’s Michonne, she’s a good friend,” he explained. “She comes and goes, has been away for a while.”

They could already see her riding the way to the prison, swinging her katana and beheading every walker around her while she rode as if they were nothing. The doors opened for her and she rode towards their makeshift stables.

“Hey, cat, can we go to the stables so I can see Michonne and you can see the horses?” Daryl asked softly. “It’s really okay if you don’t wanna, alright?” Dana looked at down and then at him, nodding. “You sure?” She nodded again. “Alright, thank you.”

Michonne was getting the horse inside the stable when they reached it, and she grinned, looking at him. “Hey!” She greeted, reaching out to hug him, and Daryl still felt awkward and stiff at it, but he was getting used to it, and he hugged her back. “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, everything good, and you?”

“Okay…I brought some stuff.” Michonne nudged her bag and then rummaged inside. “This is for you.” She handed him an old motorbike magazine and Daryl couldn’t believe that she had found something like that.

“Where you found this?” He said as he went through the pages.

“Old cabin, you should go someday, there was an old bike at the yard,” Michonne explained. “Very old, looked about to fall down into dust, but I thought on you, maybe you could save some pieces? It was all rusty, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can try, thanks.” Daryl smiled, feeling like just riding to that cabin full speed already.

“There’s no rush.” Michonne chuckled as if reading his mind. “I’m telling you, it was about to drop into rusty, broken pieces, nobody is going to take it.” Daryl shrugged, you never knew. Dana had stayed slightly away but not she walked closer, guarded, and stayed behind him as she looked at Michonne. “Hey, who’s that.”

“She’s Dana, she needed help so I brought her here,” Daryl explained.

Michonne looked at  Dana, probably noticing the old wounds on her face, the scars, and those distrustful, scared eyed. She looked at Daryl, nodding, before looking at Dana again, giving her a small smile. “Welcome here, Dana, I’m Michonne. You’re going to be fine in here.”

Dana didn’t say anything, and so Daryl spoke. “We were coming to see the horses.”

“Okay, I’m going to greet Rick, I have stuff for him and Carl, are they at the orchard?” Michonne asked and Daryl nodded. “Alright, see you both around.”

“So…” Daryl looked at Dana while Michonne walked away. “Those are our pigs.” He waved at the pen where the pigs were lying and rolling on the mud. “And these are the horses.” Dana walked to them, reaching out to stroke the snout of one and she smiled, really smiled. Daryl couldn’t help his own looking at her.

“Michonne,” Dana said. “Family?”

“Yes, yes, she’s family now.” Daryl nodded. “She’s a good woman, one of the best, you can trust her.”

Dana nodded. “I like her.”

“Yeah?” Daryl smiled, more than glad of it, and Dana nodded. While she kept petting the horse, Daryl kept thinking about something. “Hey, cat…you’re safe here, you’re going to be fine here, but if you don’t wanna be in here all the time, if you really don’t like it…you can go out with Michonne, you’ll have a place to come back and you’ll be safe with Michonne.” Not as safe as inside the prison, not as safe as Daryl’d want, but he didn’t want her to be in there if she didn’t want to.

Dana shook her head, frowning at him. “With you…don’t want me with you?”

“What, no, no, it ain’t that!” Daryl rushed to say. “Just…thought maybe you didn’t want to…I don’t know, to be here…but…yeah, I want…I…” Daryl stumbled over his words, flustered. “We’re going to hunt and patrol together yeah? If you want to, if you don’t wanna it’s okay, really…” He shrugged, looking down bashfully.

“I want to.”

“Okay, okay, good.” Daryl smiled and Dana gave him that tiny, brief half-smile. “Hey, you don’t want to see the gardens? Michonne is going to be there, and Rick too, he was saying something about some tomatoes, wanna check them?” He was still lost about what Dana might like, what she might enjoy in there, but most people seemed to like the gardens. Dana seemed to think it and then she nodded. “Alright, come on then.”

*

I don’t know about you, but I think they’re pretty cute.

Thanks to the people who decided to give this story a chance, your support keeps me posting. If you enjoyed this and have a moment, please let me know your thoughts.

As always, excuse my English, is not my first language.

I’m going to reblog the taglist in another post to see if that way this shows up in the Daryl tags.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon/oc #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon & oc #daryl/oc #darylxoc #daryl x oc #daryl&oc #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl fanfiction

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Noticing the Little Things

-shows up a week late to Kiss Ryuji Day with Starbucks- I’ve contributed to a fandom event! mo you didn’t contribute shit I’ve contributed! Took a break from Misguided Wingman, so instead of a WIP Wednesday, y’all are getting 6.6k words of fluff instead!

Under a cut cause that’s a little much, and link to AO3 in the reblogs cause tumblr does terrible things to posts with links in them.

Hey, come meet my mom!

Ryuji had sprung the offer on him last minute via dead of the night text. It wasn’t as though he’d been trying to catch Ren off guard intentionally; it was more a matter of this being her first full day off in nearly a month that hadn’t fallen through for one reason or another. Ren had quickly learned that those sorts of days were few and far between, and notoriously difficult to plan around because of it. Even rarer were the days where both Sakamotos’ schedules lined up for a full day of quality time, especially now with the addition of Phantom Thievery. And Ryuji had offered to share this once in a blue moon opportunity with his best friend. Naturally, even as tired as he’d been when the message came through, Ren had jumped at the chance. For once it (mostly) didn’t have anything to do with his crush on his best friend that could have been viewed from space, Ren was just excited to finally meet the woman whose praises Ryuji’d been singing since they met.

The next morning, Ryuji had texted him again uncharacteristically bright and early--especially for a Sunday--hoping to put their heads together for something nice to do for her. He didn’t want her to do a bunch of work on one of her rare days off and Ren didn’t blame him one bit. He pitched the idea of takeout; no effort to cook, no dishes to wash, only trash to take out after. Ryuji shot it down, hesitant to admit that they couldn’t quite afford enough takeout for all three of them this late in the month and even less willing to ask Ren to cover the whole thing. Which meant going out to eat somewhere was probably also a no-go. And then Ren was struck by divine inspiration.

Or rather, he looked down at the breakfast that Sojiro had so kindly prepared for him before Leblanc opened. And then he texted Ryuji.

What if I made curry?

And that was how he ended up spending the rest of his morning at the grocery store, picking through produce with such a critical eye that it would have brought a tear to Sojiro’s. He’d assured Ryuji several times over that it was no trouble, he needed the practice anyway and he’d gotten some sizable bonuses from a couple of his jobs, so the shopping was no issue. Ren sent the list of what he needed and, after a little more convincing, Ryuji had sent back a list of what they didn’t already have in the apartment, as well as a promise to have the kitchen ready when he arrived and to do dishes after all of his friend’s hard work. On top of the rest of his list, Ren added a nice tuna filet for Morgana, who’d be stuck in Yongen all day rather than risk getting anyone in trouble for bringing the not-a-cat to the Sakamoto apartment.

Ren double checked his bags and tried to shake off the feeling that he was missing something while Morgana halfheartedly berated him between bites of fish for being left behind. Halfway down the stairs to the cafe, it hit Ren and he couldn’t help but feel a little dumb for forgetting. His thumbs skated over his phone screen to ask Ryuji a question, only to get a question himself from Sojiro.

“Got everything you need to impress your mother-in-law, kid?” His tone was teasing as he looked over the boy’s armful of groceries. Ren sputtered an objection that was less actual coherent words and more disconnected, indignant noises, red as the bell peppers he’d selected as his caretaker chuckled. His phone buzzed as Ryuji’s answer came in.

“Actually…” Ren managed after the worst of the heat faded from his cheeks. “I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of things?”

-----

“Out.” Ren commanded, brandishing a freshly washed carrot like a dagger and flicking the water off of it at his friend.

“Hey! It’s my kitchen!” Ryuji argued but stepped back anyways with his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself from the droplets.

“They’re my groceries. Go sit, I’m cooking.” Ren retorted and turned back to the cutting board. Sakamoto-san’s laugh could be heard from the living room, not that that was very far. It was a small apartment and the kitchen and living room weren’t so much two separate rooms as they were one room about the size of Leblanc’s attic interrupted by a short stretch of countertop. When he’d first come in, Sakamoto-san had scooped up the groceries from Ren’s arms before he’d gotten half a word of greeting out, Ryuji had dragged him off for a quick tour of the apartment, and he’d come back to everything he’d need laid out in a neat array next to the stove in the five minutes he’d been distracted.

“He fusses if he doesn’t get to help.” She explained while Ren worked. “He does it to me, too, y’know.” He couldn’t help but wonder with a roll of his eyes where ever could his best friend have gotten that habit from?

“Oh I fuss if I don’t get to help?” The blond asked dryly and then helpfully voiced Ren’s inner sarcastic inquiry: “Wonder where I picked that up?” A smile found its way onto Ren’s face as they continued bantering back and forth while he worked, Sakamoto-san sipping on tea in front of the television and Ryuji leaning on the counter from the living room side to watch his best friend cook.

It was comfortable, but not quite in the same way Leblanc had become; the cafe was a place to rest, to breathe, to hide. His attic bedroom felt undeniably safe, but was somehow paradoxically isolated from the world around it and almost entirely devoid of privacy. The apartment, though… With the sound of the tv providing soft background noise to Ryuji and his mother’s easy conversation and the smell of curry spices filling every corner of the small space, it felt safe in a way that felt like home, in a way the attic hadn’t quite managed yet, in a way his own home hadn’t really felt since he was a little kid. Something tense in Ren’s chest unwound and he hadn’t realized he was humming until Ryuji and Sakamoto-san had stopped talking to listen. It wasn’t even particularly good, at least as far as he was concerned, but it was the only way to get rid of the Velvet Room’s mysterious song when it got stuck in his head like it lived there. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable beat when he realized he had an audience.

“Um.” He glanced up from the frying pan for a moment, then quickly back down to it to hide his blush after meeting two matching sets of wide, brown eyes watching him. Nothing like an unblinking stare to make one self-conscious. “S-sorry. Did I interrupt you two?”

“Oh no, not at all! You have a lovely voice, Ren. Don’t let us stop you.” Sakamoto-san insisted with a kind smile that turned a little too knowing as she glanced over at her son.

“Yeah, man, you ain’t gotta quit ‘cause of us.” Ryuji affirmed, still watching him with a grin and a warm, wide-eyed look that the other boy couldn’t quite put a name to. “And she’s right, you’re pretty good. Hell, maybe we shoulda gone to that karaoke place for real the one time so you could show off.” Heat rose to Ren’s face that had nothing to do with the food he was cooking.

“Well, we could always go back, make that our next celebration after-- uh,” Ren quickly changed course before he accidentally blurted out ‘after the next change of heart’ in front of Sakamoto-san, “after exams. Get everyone together, take turns picking songs, that sort of thing.” Ren suggested. “Of course, that means you’d have to sing, too.”

“No way--!” The blond tried to object before his mother cut him off in her own excitement.

“Oh that sounds so fun!” She grinned more widely, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. Ren had seen an identical look on her son’s face enough times to slightly dread whatever she was about to say. “Maybe you boys could do a duet? I know a few songs that’d--”

“Mommmm!” Ryuji groaned indignantly while Ren smothered a laugh and prayed any color in his cheeks could be written off as a result of leaning over the hot stove.

-----

Ren watched a flurry of movement from where he’d gotten up to stir the curry and break out the pour-over setup. Boss had only let him borrow this one because it had been chipped a few years prior--still functional, but no longer restaurant quality--and because Ren had laid the flattery on especially thick when he begged to use it.

“Ooh, you’re gonna make coffee? I’ll be right back, I know what else’ll go perfect with it!” Ryuji had jumped up and all but bolted for the door. “Be right back!”

“Wait, I was just--” He tried to tell the blond, but the door had already snapped shut before he could finish, “--setting it up.” He sighed and offered a helpless shrug to Sakamoto-san. “It’s supposed to go with the curry, but that’s going to be simmering for a while.”

Sakamoto-san chuckled and smiled fondly in the direction her son had disappeared. “You know how excitable he can be, and he’s been looking forward to introducing us for a couple of months now.” She stood and stretched with a groan, then walked over and leaned on the counter. Ren could practically feel her gaze on him as he worked; even with as warm and casual as the look on her face was, something in her eyes felt scrutinizing. He was being sized up with no idea as to why. Sakamoto-san’s smile stayed in place, as gentle as before when she asked, “why not brew us each a cup anyway? Ryuji’s been raving about the one you made him and how well it’d go with old lady Ueda’s ginger peach danishes since the beginning of summer. And since he’s even less of a coffee drinker than I am, I’m eager to see the master at work.”

“If you want to see the master at work, you’ll have to come by Leblanc and meet So-- um, Sakura-san.” He explained with a nervous, slightly forced chuckle of his own. After a moment of internal debate, Ren nodded. “But I did bring enough for everyone to have a couple of cups. Couldn’t hurt to see if you like it as much as Ryuji does. Maybe I’ll impress you just as much, Sakamoto-san.” That had been exactly why he was doing this, why he had worked so hard to convince Boss to part with even a little of his cafe equipment.

She barked a laugh at that and startled Ren enough that he nearly knocked over the bag of coffee he’d traded away a full week of work for. “Two things. Three, actually. One, please just call me Hana. Because, two, I’ve been impressed with you for months, kid. And, three, don’t beat yourself up if you can’t impress me as much as Ryuji ‘cause that’s gonna be an awfully high bar to clear. I don’t know exactly what you did to do it, but you pulled him out of…” Hana-san trailed off with a sigh, and then continued with a slightly thick edge to her voice, “out of a pretty dark place, y’know. My boy adores you.”

With that and the overwhelming warmth in her eyes, Ren could feel his own throat tightening, but he managed to choke out a weak, “O-okay.” And then he couldn’t force anything else out. How were you supposed to react to hearing your probably-unrequited-crush’s mom tell you that said crush adored you? As if she could read the question on his face, she reached over to clap him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Don’t worry about sayin’ anything, My sunshine’s told me you’re not much of a talker. Just make sure you keep showin’ him how much he means to you too, alright?”

“I will. Thank you, Hana-san.” He finally replied and got the same annoyed frown he’d gotten from Ryuji two days into their friendship, when he’d met his new nickname with Ryuji’s family name. Although responding to Renren with Sakamoto back then had been an attempt at teasing on Ren’s part, calling Sakamoto-san by just her given name felt like too much.

The door creaked open and pulled her attention off of Ren as Ryuji came bouncing through, nearly forgetting to kick off his shoes in his excitement to deliver the prized pastries.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this one was formal, sunshine.” She sighed. “And damn, I’ve never seen you make that trip so fast. You that excited to show off to your Renren? ” Ryuji squawked in offense and Ren could feel his face flame at how she’d emphasized his nickname.

“N-nah, he could probably sense that I was just about to ask about embarrassing baby pictures is all.” Ren deflected as he went back to prepping their coffee.

The only thing better than the look of utter betrayal Ryuji gave him was the one of unbridled delight on Hana-san’s face.

-----

Dinner had passed cheerfully, if somewhat raucously, as Hana-san and Ryuji regaled their guest with stories about Ryuji’s childhood, and the boys entertained her with stories about their time together since the beginning of the school year. Ren felt himself opening up more and more easily as the meal had gone by and even shared a few stories from his time working at Leblanc, as well as the specifics behind balancing the night’s coffee and curry. As per usual, Ryuji didn’t really seem to be absorbing the specifics, but seemed more than happy to watch his friend talk about something he was enthusiastic about. Ren was even openly laughing by the end of dinner while he and Ryuji recounted the time they had met up for lunch after separately incurring Ushimaru’s wrath by falling asleep in class, then bursting out laughing at each other’s identical chalk bruises on their foreheads. They didn’t mention that each of them still had the other’s half of the subsequent selfie set as their phone’s home screen.

Afterwards, the atmosphere in the apartment settled a little when Ryuji shooed both his mother and his best friend out of the kitchen to sort out leftovers and wash dishes. In the meantime, Ren and Hana-san sat in comfortable quiet in the living room while half-watching the talk show on tv and enjoying the last of the coffee and danishes. Ryuji had been spot-on, Ren noted, the flavor paired beautifully with what he’d been secretly calling the Kidd Blend since he first got his right hand man’s seal of approval. As per usual, even if Ryuji didn’t have a head for the specifics, his instincts were unparalleled.

“He’s got good taste, right?” Hana-san remarked as she watched Ren’s thoughtful chewing. He nodded. Again with that uncanny ability to read him; it would have been unsettling if he hadn’t already been used to it from Ryuji and just figured that she was where he got it from. She cracked a smile after taking another sip from her coffee and said, “I gotta admit, I was skeptical when he said it was good enough to go with our favorite dessert. Figured he was just talking you up again ‘cause I’ve never had a cup of coffee I actually liked. I only drink it if I need the caffeine fix. But this? This is damn good.” Hana-san drained the cup and let out a satisfied sigh before she settled back a little further into her seat.

At that point Ren had been keeping a running tally of how many little gestures and features Hana-san and her son had in common. Despite their differences physically--where Ryuji was tall and all lean, hard lines, Hana-san was considerably shorter than her son and built soft and sturdy--there was no denying they were mother and son with as many quirks and features as they had in common. The same warm, brown eyes that tilted upwards just a little at the outer corners; the same bright smile that lit up their entire faces and laughter that filled every corner of the room; the same animated manner of speaking, all open expression and wild gestures to tell a story; the same bright quality to their voices, loud and boisterous without being overwhelming. The same way of making him feel like he’d known them all his life within the span of a few hours. That last one was about when he’d lost count, and therefore couldn’t say where he was when he noted that even with the difference in their specific posture, the two even relaxed the same way when they sat. Ryuji tended to sprawl out and Hana-san seemed more comfortable curling up when she sat, but they both had something loose and open about the way they sat, something oddly approachable.

“You’re always welcome to come by Leblanc, Hana-san.” Ren said with a smile, then added somewhat proudly, “Although I’ll have to direct Boss since Ryuji only gets coffee when I make it.”

“We’ll see if I get some time. And seriously, kid, just Hana is fine. I’ve heard enough about you from Ryuji that I feel like I already know you.” She insisted.

“Wh- really?” His head snapped up from his drink. He knew that he and Ryuji were best friends, probably the closest friends that either of them had ever had. But he hadn’t actually thought about the fact that that meant Ryuji talked about him to other people. It was probably silly the way something that obvious could warm him from the inside and fill his chest with butterflies, but it did.

“Oh yeah. Honestly, I knew I liked you before he ever even said your name. It was like out of nowhere his grades started picking back up, I wasn’t getting any more calls about him skipping classes, he seemed motivated again, like he hadn’t been since…” Hana-san looked over at Ryuji, busy and oblivious in the kitchen, as her face darkened and her voice dropped before she continued, “since before that sonofabitch broke my boy’s leg.” The bitterness passed after a moment and she fixed Ren with a gaze brimming with that same overwhelming warmth and kindness from before. “I knew that whoever it was that brought my boy’s smile back… that was someone I wanted to meet, y’know? That was someone I wanted to thank. So, thanks Ren. You brought my sunshine back.”

“I… You’re welcome.” Ren mumbled. “It’s not…” He stopped himself from saying it wasn’t a big deal because that definitely wasn’t true. “I mean, he did just as much for me.” Then he took a sip from his coffee, at a loss for what else to say.

“I’m sure he did, he’s a good boy. But this is me thanking you, not him.” She shrugged as she watched him drink and her smile went crooked as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Still, I guess if Hana is too informal for you, you could always just call me Mom. Might as well get in the habit now, right?”

So. Hot coffee coming out of one’s nose was very painful. That was the immediate sensation that momentarily distracted Ren from the shock of Hana-san’s statement. She jumped up in surprise as he choked on his drink, then quickly grabbed a dish towel from the nearby counter and handed it to him. He coughed a few times and wiped at the surprisingly little amount of coffee that he’d gotten on himself, before finally clearing his throat and wheezing out, “Excuse me?”

Hana-san was very clearly trying not to laugh at him while she gave him another of those warm smiles that just confused him this time. “I know you two are dating, I’m not blind, kid.” Ren’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Hard. It prompted another coughing fit and Hana-san couldn’t hold back from laughing this time. “Even if I was, I still would’ve picked up on it. You two are too obvious. It’s sweet, really. The way you light up when you’re watchin’ him? And the first time I finally got your name out of him, you were suddenly the only thing he wanted to talk about. ‘ Hey mom, I’m hanging out with Ren today, don’t worry ‘bout dinner for me, we’re gonna get ramen. Man, can’t believe Ren’s never been to a real arcade before. His hometown didn’t really have one, so I’m gonna show him my favorite tomorrow. Hey mom, me and Ren are going to the gym today, yeah we’re gonna be running, yeah I’m running again, didn’t I tell you? Nah, I don’t need anything for my birthday, I know money’s tight this week and Renren’s taking me fishing so it’s all good. Hey, did you know Ren hung the moon? Ain’t that sweet of him? I should do somethin’ to say thanks.’ Like I said, kid. Ryuji adores you.” Hana finished softly. Almost ruefully, but he missed that part. Ren’s head was spinning, out of sheer confusion and excitement and terror and hope that he’d been aggressively stomping down for months, as well as the fact that all the blood in his body seemed determined to rush to his face all at once.

“He… told you we’re dating?” He managed hoarsely, eyes flicking to Ryuji still washing dishes and still completely oblivious to their conversation with the water running. Did… Had Ryuji confessed to him without Ren realizing? Had those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, bein’ free and my place is next to you, actually been what he hadn’t dared even hope for?

Had he been dating Ryuji Sakamoto this entire goddamn time without even realizing it?

“Well, no. At first I thought it was because he was nervous about coming out to me. I did what I could to let him know it wasn’t an issue, and since he never really changed how he talked about you, I figured he must have just been so excited to have such a wonderful boyfriend that he just... forgot to tell me.”

Ren barked out a rough laugh and then winced at the way it grated on his scalded sinuses. “Then that would make two of us, Hana-san. If I had realized this was that kind of ‘come meet my mom,’ I would’ve convinced Sojiro to let me bring one of the top-shelf blends.” A hollow laugh escaped him as Hana-san’s face fell.

“Oh. Oh… Ah shit, I’m so sorry! I went and made things awkward with him now, haven’t I?” She winced apologetically and looked down at the dishtowel when Ren handed it back. “And wasted that fantastic coffee on top of it, too. You’re sure you’re okay?” Ren waved the apology off.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it, Hana-san.” She frowned at him and he finally relented. “Hana. I just... have a couple questions for him now. That I have no idea how I’m gonna ask.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at Ryuji again, who was nearly done cleaning up the kitchen.

“Well, good luck when you do. But I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” She assured him with a wink and a gentle clap on the shoulder. “So, if that wasn’t the top shelf stuff, what was it? Besides still pretty damn killer, obviously.”

“Huh? Oh. Second from the top. Still took some serious convincing and I’ll be working behind the counter at Leblanc all week to make up for it.” Ren flashed Hana a tired smile. “Worth it, though. Every non-coffee-drinker I impress is a win in my book.”

Her laugh in response took the sting out of his embarrassment. And his slightly burnt throat. “Well then, guess I will have to find a minute to come by, enjoy me some coffee, curry, and a captive audience.” Hana grinned and Ren couldn’t help but return it.

“I’ll look forward to the company.”

-----

Rather than walk straight to the closest station, Ren and Ryuji had decided to take the scenic route and loop through a nearby park once first. Ren stuck close to the blond, given that he was a lot more familiar with the area as one of his go-to running practice routes. That and, while it was refreshingly cool for Ryuji outside the apartment, Ren ran colder than his friend and was starting to get uncomfortably chilly. As if on cue, Ryuji fell into step right next to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, and Ren felt himself immediately relax into the touch to leech his right hand man’s body heat.

“I’m really glad you finally got to meet my mom. Glad you hit it off with her, gotta admit I was kinda nervous at first.” Ryuji finally said.

“Really? Why?”

“Well you know after my old man took off, it was just me ‘n her, yeah?” Ren nodded. “Even when I had other friends before… everything, Mom was always my best friend. Lame, right?” Ryuji gave a halfhearted, self-deprecating laugh. Ren nudged his shoulder a little more firmly against the blond, not willing to let the disparagement pass uncontested.

“Not at all, she’s pretty great. Wish I was half as close with my folks as you two are.”

“Right. Yeah, she is. Anyways, yeah, mom was always my best friend. So when you turned up--and it’s not like she said anything so I could be wrong--but when you turned up I think she was a little jealous? Not like tellin’ me not to hang out with you or anythin’, she’s been real glad to see me with friends again! But I was kinda worried she felt…” The blond trailed off, waving his free hand vaguely as he tried to come up with the right word.

“Pushed aside?” Ren supplied.

“Exactly! So even after I knew she’d warmed up to you after hearin’ about you so much, I was kinda nervous that she wouldn’t get along with you. So yeah, I’m glad you guys hit it off.”

“I’m glad, too.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Hana had told Ryuji what she’d told him, how she knew she liked Ren as soon as Ryuji started getting back on his feet again. There was no way she’d told him she was certain they were dating, although that probably would have made bringing it up easier for Ren, if no less awkward. It wasn’t as though he could just blurt out ‘hey are we dating, your mom was pretty convinced I’m your boyfriend and I’m really hoping she was right’. Well okay, he could if he could work up the nerve, but that was a pretty big ‘if.’

“Hey.” Ren could hear the frown in Ryuji’s voice and didn’t have time to react before his glasses were being tugged off his face and tucked into the collar of the other boy’s shirt. “You’re doin’ that thing again, where you’re overthinkin’ somethin’ and you disappear behind your damn glasses. What’s up?”

Ren blinked up at Ryuji a few times, barely registering that, huh, that was a habit of his wasn’t it, before the words “Why sunshine?” fell out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Ryuji fixed him with a puzzled look that shifted into one of flushed embarrassment as the question registered. “Oh, right, the nickname. Uh, my hair, mostly.”

“Makes sense. This is gonna sound dumb, but even though I know you bleach it, I was still surprised that your mom’s brunette.” Ren admitted. “I guess part of me was expecting her to be blonde, too.”

“I was actually aimin’ for her color the first time we bleached mine.” Ryuji admitted, then frowned like he hadn’t meant to say anything.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t… I wasn’t always so gung-ho about the whole ‘fine, you’re gonna call me a punk, I’ll give you an effin’ punk’ thing, y’know? That didn’t really click all the way into place ‘til I got Kidd.” The blond took a slightly shaky breath and exhaled deeply before shooting his friend a questioning glance. Ren nodded for him to continue. He wasn’t going to push and Ryuji knew that, but he was definitely curious. “Right. So, this was back when my leg was still healin’ last year. Had a rough day on it, came home feelin’ like ten kindsa shit, like bad enough I went straight to the bathroom and threw up I hurt so damn bad. And as I’m washin’ my face after, I catch how my face looks in the mirror and… and I look like just as much shit as I feel.” Ren could feel how sharply Ryuji spat the hollow, bitter laugh before he continued, “specifically, I looked just like my old man whenever he was hungover. Effin’ hated it, seein’ a face I had damn near blocked out ‘cause it’d been so long since I saw it just starin’ back at me from the mirror.” Ren wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulders the same way Ryuji’s was draped across his, then gave his best shot at a comforting squeeze.

Ryuji shot him a crooked smile and brightened as he kept talking. “Anyways, I told Mom what happened and asked if we could dye it the same color as hers. And she was totally down for it. So she went out, got a bleach kit, annnnnd when we used it, we totally overshot it. I lost track of time and turned my hair bright freakin’ yellow and patchy as hell, too,” he laughed. “And man, we laughed harder than we had in months at that. She spent the rest of the night callin’ me sunshine to mess with me, but it was nice seein’ her really smile again, y’know? So when she asked me the next day what kind of dye I wanted to cover it up with, I told her to grab more bleach and we’d try and even it out cause the blond grew on me. And honestly? The name did, too.” Ryuji shook Ren’s shoulder in warning. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“My lips are sealed. It suits you, though. The name,” Ren affirmed and ruffled his hand through the shock of surprisingly soft, blond hair, “and the look.” Ryuji swatted his hand away with a laugh and let it settle back on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Long as I can get away with it, I’m keepin’ it.” Ryuji stretched and fixed Ren with a look. “Aight, now what were you actually thinkin’ about?”

“Uh, w-well.” Shit. Nothing else came to mind through the haze of mild panic that struck Ren. No excuses, no delays, no deflections. Oh, to hell with it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Time to just rip the bandage off. “Your mom thinks we’re dating and you just forgot to tell her because you got caught up in being excited about it.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji yelped and jumped back like he’d been burned. Not the best reaction, but Ren was already determined to just get it all out.

“Yeah. And as soon as she put it like that, I suddenly wasn’t sure that I just… hadn’t realized I’d accepted a confession at some point.” He explained, eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Ryuji laughed, high and nervous, bordering on slightly hysterical.

“Wh-when would I have even--”

“My place is next to you.” Ren’s heart was hammering in his chest hard enough that he was worried it might crack a rib or five.

“...oh. Right. Okay, yeah, that’s… that’s fair.” Ryuji had stopped walking and was frowning at the concrete as he scuffed the toe of his shoe at it. “So you been tryin’ to let me down easy or somethin? Don’t worry about it, dude, that wasn’t…” He trailed off and Ren finally turned to face him. The pang that squeezed his heart left him breathless when he saw the look of utter disappointment on Ryuji’s face. Ren was frozen, even as something in the back of his head screamed at him to fix it before Ryuji got the wrong idea. The blond straightened up with a laugh that sounded more like a scoff and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, that explains all the ‘you know you can tell me anything’ conversations she’s been tryin’ to have lately. I was worried she’d caught on about the Phantom Thief stuff, but she just… God, do I even wanna know what you told her?”

Ren practically jumped at the opening. “I told her if I’d known it was that kind of ‘hey come meet my mom’ that I would have brought better coffee.” He tried to look his best friend in the eye as he confessed, but just… couldn’t. Better to focus on getting the words out however he could. “I haven’t been trying to figure out how to let you down easy, kind of the opposite, actually.” He did his best to ignore the quiet intake of breath that got, or the way Ryuji tensed in his peripheral vision. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask and bracing myself for when you shot me down. I… I really like you.”

“...forreal?” Ryuji’s voice was soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” Ren’s voice cracked, nerves finally getting the better of him. But he could at least answer, even if he still couldn’t look the other boy in the eye.

“You… You like me? Like, like-like me?”

“Yes. Have for a while, now. I might... “ Ren cleared his throat and tried again. “I might be a little past just like at this point, honestly.”

A breathless, disbelieving chuckle followed by, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” A stiff nod.

“Why?” Ryuji’s tone had escalated from disbelief to full-on incredulity, sapping away all of Ren’s nerves in favor of sheer indignance when he whipped around to his best friend.

“How could I not?!” Ren nearly shouted, just self-aware enough to be glad they were alone. “You’re brave, so goddamn brave and so goddamn kind, protecting people--total strangers, sometimes--and expecting nothing back! You’re ridiculously good-looking and have an amazing smile and the best laugh I’ve ever heard, not to mention you’re just so damn compassionate? Quick to help people and even quicker to apologize when you mess up, even with just the little mistakes, and you always mean it and try to do better. And I’ve never in my life met someone as loyal as you, never had someone that I could rely on the way I rely on you!” Ren ranted, slightly light-headed from how quickly the words just poured out of him. “For fuck’s sake, you saved my life when I was just some guy off the street! The Phantom Thieves wouldn’t exist at all without you, and I… I would have spent the rest of the year, maybe even the rest of my life hiding if I hadn’t met you--”

“Hey.”

“Huh?” When had Ryuji stepped so close? How had Ren not noticed those warm, calloused hands cupping his jaw and tipping his head back up to look back at a face that wore an achingly-sweet expression of pure admiration, tempered only by the hint of apprehension at the corners of those warm, brown eyes Ren was such a sucker for?

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Izzat okay?”

“Please.” Ren whispered as his heart jumped up into his throat and Ryuji’s flushed face drew closer.

Both boys’ eyes fluttered shut at the first brush of lips, soft and deliberate. The second was just as gentle, just as careful, even as Ryuji’s fingers twitched against Ren’s jaw like it was taking all of his self control not to just dive in. Like he’d been thinking about how to do it right, planning it for a while, and that thought made Ren’s stomach flip. He slid one hand up the nape of Ryuji’s neck and buried his fingers in his hair at the third kiss, and wrapped his free arm around the blond’s waist to pull him closer partway through the fourth. From there, he lost count. It was the seventh or eighth kiss that found him pressed up against a nearby tree, and something like the thirteenth before nerves gave way to excitement and one of them deepened the kiss. He stopped counting entirely after the cautious sweep of Ryuji’s tongue over his lower lip temporarily shorted out his higher brain functions and pulled an embarrassingly needy sound from the back of his throat. Somewhere in the distantly coherent part of his brain, Ren made a mental note to start buying gum or mints because coffee-and-curry breath was… not great for kissing. It still took the two of them several minutes to break apart because kissing Ryuji, finally actually kissing him, was so much better than he’d imagined, even after months of daydreaming.

“So…” Ren sighed against the corner of Ryuji’s mouth, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, no room for confusion--”

“Oh my god Renren, seriously?!” The words didn’t have any bite, being equal parts incredulity and laughter as Ryuji shoved gently at Ren’s shoulder.

“I just wanna be sure!” Ren laughed right back.

“Are you effin’ serious, how can you not be-- fine.” Ryuji pulled him into a tight hug, peppering his face with kisses as he spoke. “Ren Amamiya,” kiss, “will,” kiss, “you be,” kiss, “my,” kiss, “boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Ren turned his head to catch another kiss that Ryuji had aimed at his temple, sliding his tongue into the blond’s mouth and kissing him hard enough that his best friend was scarlet when he pulled away. “I would love to.”

Then he kissed Ryuji again. And again. And again.

-----

Eventually, Ren and Ryuji had broken apart long enough to return his glasses and get him on a train back to the cafe. He had been grinning like a dork for the entire ride and practically floated back into Leblanc when he got back, earning a weird look from Morgana on the counter. Sojiro was too busy to notice, nearly done cleaning up with most of the dishes already put away and the next day’s curry prepped and simmering. Ren stepped in, grabbed the washcloth off the side of the sink and started wiping down the counter.

“I can finish cleaning, you go ahead and get home to Futaba.” He insisted.

“Well you’re in a good mood. I take it you impressed the mother-in-law?” Boss teased.

“Yep, I think I did!” Ren chirped from behind the counter, then tried not to laugh. Sojiro did a double take and his face flickered through several expressions at once--sly and teasing, smug triumph, confusion, recognition, and further confusion--as he realized his ribbing hadn’t landed like it had just that afternoon.

Eventually he let out a “hmph” before probably deciding not to ask. “Don’t forget to lock up, and put back everything you borrowed, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ren waved as the door jangled shut behind him and hummed cheerfully as he worked.

“I take it you two idiots finally figured it out?” Morgana asked and Ren only grinned. At that point his face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Blech, glad I missed out.” The cat stretched languidly before hopping down and trotting up the stairs. “Congratulations, though. Taste notwithstanding, I’m happy for you two.”

“So you don’t want the play-by-play?” Ren called after him.

“I will steal your bed and make you sleep in a booth!”

#my writing #kiss ryuji day #persona 5 #pegoryu #akiryu #how obvious is it that I never write kissing like. ever. #no beta we die like [December spoilers] #which is to say. ambiguously. #oh my god I actually finished a wip it's a christmas miracle