#But we don’t need to talk about fandom shit when we’re talking about what is a much huger issue of literacy and critical thinking

[polyamoryprincess]

I was gonna write a big ol rant but basically I’m tired of seeing discussions about the concerning decline in media literacy and reading comprehension being reduced to conversations about shipping and morality discourse, that is literally the smallest fraction of this problem

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : STAY WITH ME (PT.2) : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ 2017!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff and angst

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Strong language, emotional distress

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You find yourself caught in the middle of tension between Logan and Caliban. Determined to stick by Logan, you join him on an unexpected job that quickly becomes more complicated when a desperate woman asks for his help. Despite Logan's reluctance, he agrees to assist her.

Previous Part | Next Part

“IF YOU ARE PLANNING TO BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT COULD YOU WAIT TILL YOU’RE OUT ON THE HIGH SEAS? I JUST MOPPED THESE FLOORS.”

You frowned upon hearing those words. Slowly you got up from your bed and quickly slipped on a hoodie and a pair of shorts before going downstairs.

“What is going on?” You asked as you saw Logan and Caliban glaring at each other.

You watched how Logan quickly pulled something from Caliban’s hand before saying “i don’t need this shit.”

Caliban looked at you and then back at Logan as he sat down next to him.

“A year ago, you asked me to help you. And God knows i’ve tried. But i can’t help you Logan, not really, if you’re not going to talk to me.” Caliban spoke to Logan who just stared ahead of him.

“I hear you at night. You’re not sleeping. You don’t want to talk about that. Or the booze you’re drinking. Or the pus you’re wiping away from your knuckles.” Caliban continued.

You closed your eyes at his words. It’s true. Logan wasn’t sleeping and he drank way too much and his knuckles…Just a few hours ago you were the one who wiped the pus away from his knuckles.

“Or the blood i wash from your clothes. Or the fresh wounds in your chest. The ones that aren’t healing. And i’m pretty sure you don’t want to talk about the fact that you can’t read the label on that bottle. It says Ibuprofen.” Caliban finished.

You watched how Logan smashed Caliban’s mug to the ground before getting up. “Stay out of my shit!” Logan growled before walking straight past you to exit the building.

“That was my favorite mug.” You hear Caliban say before you went after Logan.

“Logan wait!” You yell as you caught up to him. “Where are you going?” You asked while watching how Logan threw a bag in his car.

“To work.” He answered shortly, wanting to open the car door, but unfortunately he was stopped by your hand keeping it closed.

“Let me come with you.” You said while looking at him. “No fucking way. Go back inside and get some sleep.” Logan huffed while pushing you out of his way and getting into the car.

You rolled your eyes and used your powers to teleport right beside Logan in the passenger seat.

“Seriously?” Sighed Logan as he looked at you. “Yes i’m coming with you.” You smiled while putting on your safety belt.

“Of course you are.” Grunted Logan as he started the engine and drove off.

“Did you get some sleep after i tended to your hands?” You asked while looking out of the window.

“No.” Said Logan while staring at the road in front of him. “I told you i could help you.” You frowned while looking at him.

“I know, it’s just…” Logan trailed off as he got a notification on his phone.

“We have our first ride.” Logan announced before driving to the location he saw on his phone.

“When we’re there, just stay in the car okay.” Logan told you as you drove into the city. “Why?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Logan sighed before pointing at your outfit. “Because you’re quite literally wearing pajamas.”

You scoffed as you looked down at yourself and Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at your response.

As soon as you and Logan arrived at the first location, Logan got out of the car and helped the people who ordered him, into the car. Unfortunately it was a fucking girls bachelorette party.

“For fuck’s sake.” You mumbled as Logan slid back behind the steering wheel. “I told you to get back inside, remember?” Logan smirked. You gave him the finger before folding your arms in front of you.

While Logan drove the girls towards their destination, the girl who was about to marry, showed him her tits. “Hey driver!” She said before pulling down her dress.

Both you and Logan watched through the front mirror and your eyes widened at the sight. Logan just chuckled and shook his head slightly.

When all of you finally arrived at the destination, Logan got out of the car and helped each girl out before he got another notification on his phone. He quickly pulled out his glasses from the pocket of his jacket and put them on so he could read what was on his phone.

“We have a new ride.” Logan sighed as he stepped into the car again. “Please don’t let it be another bachelorette.” You said while rubbing your temples.

Logan started the car again and drove off.

“Logan?” You asked softly. Logan hummed as a way of letting you know he was listening while he kept looking ahead of him.

“Yesterday i found this on the floor.” You said as you pulled out the small business card and showed it to Logan.

“Oh you’re snooping through my stuff now?” Logan said irritatingly. “I told you i found it on the floor. It must’ve fell out of your pocket.” You said while rolling your eyes.

Logan huffed while shaking his head. “So what is it? What is Alkali Transigen?” You asked after a moment of silence.

Logan shrugged. “No idea.” You gave him an ‘are you serious’ look before putting the card back in your pocket.

“Some random guy gave it to me yesterday morning after i picked up Charles’ medication.” Logan said suddenly.

“What?”

“He randomly opened the door of the car and slid into the backseat. He told me about a woman named Gabriela and that she was looking for me. Told me she stole something from him and that if i ran into her, i should contact him and then he gave me the card.” Logan explained while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Have you ever seen this Gabriela?” You asked while turning towards Logan. He thought about it for a moment before speaking.

“I think so, yeah. Last week i needed to go to a cemetery for a customer who had a funeral and while i was waiting outside, a lady came up to me. Asking if i was the Wolverine. She kept saying she needed my help.”

“What did you say?” You asked softly. Logan scoffed while a small smirk appeared in his face. “I told her to fuck off of course. I’m not a hero. I’m not doing that shit anymore.”

You sighed while looking down at your lap. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “What? Should i have done it differently?” He asked. You shook your head. “No. I’m just curious about what she stole from the man.”

“Yeah me too.” Said Logan as he turned to his right, driving onto the parking lot of a Motel.

“This is it.” Logan turned the car off, undid his seatbelt and got out of the car.

There was a young girl playing in the parking lot with a ball. She kept staring at you and Logan.

You carefully undid your seatbelt and got out of the car as well, not fully trusting the situation, especially after Logan just told you about the whole Gabriela thing.

“Hey i told you to wait in the car.” Logan said as he saw you behind him. You just shrugged and started to look around.

Suddenly a woman exited one of the Motel rooms calling for “Mr Logan.”

“Oh Jesus.” You heard Logan sigh as he turned away from the woman. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched the woman closely.

“Please, we need a ride.” The woman spoke softly. Logan kissed the back of his teeth while shaking his head. “Not available. Call a cab.”

“My name is Gabriela Lopez.” Your eyes widened at the lady’s words. So this was the woman Logan was telling you about earlier.

“I don’t wanna know your name, lady.” Logan said as he kept walking.

“There are men after us. We need to get out of here.” Gabriela said as she followed Logan.

“Logan let’s hear her out for a moment.” You said as you came closer to the woman.

“Go north, cross to Canada.” Gabriela continued, but Logan wouldn’t listen. “Anyone can do that job.” He said as he turned around to face Gabriela.

“I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars!” Gabriela said quickly. You were stunned. $50,000 was a lot. That would be enough money to buy that boat Logan and Charles were always talking about.

“How did you find me, huh? Cause you are fucking up my life, lady! The people after you, they’re on my ass now!” Logan yelled while glaring daggers at Gabriela.

“Logan calm down!” You said as you grabbed his arm. You turned to Gabriela and extended your hand. You introduced yourself and apologized for Logan’s behavior.

“Sightings were posted. People said someone who looked like the Wolverine was in El Paso, driving. Said he looked old.” Gabriela explained as she looked at Logan.

Suddenly there was a sound of glass breaking. You, Gabriela and Logan both looked to your left to see the young girl standing like she did something.

“Hey!” A woman yelled as she came onto the parking lot. Probably the owner of the motel.

“Laura get inside!” Gabriela said as she walked towards the lady.

“I told you to stop it with that ball!” The owner yelled. “Bad girl!”

Gabriela quickly grabbed the owner by her arms while saying “No! Please.” Before she fell to the ground.

Laura was the first to kneel by her side, quickly followed by you and Logan.

“They’re gonna have to pay for damages. And she has cash. I’ve seen it!” The owner said. Logan glared daggers into her direction. “You should get your fat ass back in your office. You’ll get your money.” Logan said through gritted teeth before helping Gabriela up.

You watched how he helped her back to her Motel room while you stayed outside with the girl whose name was apparently Laura.

“Hey.” You smiled softly as you kneeled in front of her. She didn’t say anything, just stared at you.

“Are you okay?” You asked. Laura gave you a small nod before walking away. You sighed to yourself while getting back to your feet. “What the fuck is going on?” You whispered before following after Logan.

As you entered the Motel room of Gabriela, you heard she was talking to Logan about an address she needed to get to because her boyfriend wants to kill her and take Laura. She offered Logan $20,000 and told him he would receive $30,000 more once they arrived in North Dakota.

“Is she your daughter?” Asked Logan as he looked at Laura who was standing in the door opening. Gabriela nodded.

“I know you’re still good inside. I know you want to help us.” Gabriela said.

“You don’t know anything about me!” Logan said harshly. You watched how Gabriela started begging ,saying that if they left now there wouldn’t be any problems.

Logan yelled about how he couldn’t just leave to North Dakota, but Gabriela kept begging.

Something very strange was going on here, you thought while overhearing the conversation.

“Please Logan. You have to. Please.” Gabriela pleaded.

You saw how Logan turned towards Laura and back to Gabriela.

He bit on the insides of his cheek before nodding. “Fine! But we will leave tomorrow. Be ready at 8AM. Go pack your stuff.” Logan said before leaving the room, not looking back once.

You sighed as you watched Logan get back in the car. You sat down next to Gabriela and took her hand in yours.

“I’m very sorry for his behavior. He isn’t feeling like himself lately. I’ll come as well tomorrow to make sure everything will be alright okay? Go pack your stuff and get some sleep. We will see you tomorrow.” You said as you gave Gabriela’s hand a little squeeze.

You stood up from your seat on the bed and went to the door where Laura stood. You gave her a small pat on her head before going back to Logan.

“This is a fucking mess!” Said Logan loudly as you slid into the passenger seat. You watched how he punched the steering wheel a few times before you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

“Don’t. You’ll hurt your knuckles.” You said softly. Logan took a few deep breaths before starting the engine. He turned the car around and drove out of the Motel parking lot.

“Are you really going to do it?” You asked while looking at Logan. You saw how he tightened his hold on the steering wheel while nodding.

“Okay well i’m coming with you.” You said. Logan scoffed and shook his head. “The fuck you won’t. I don’t trust any of this shit. It’s dangerous. You’re not going.” Logan told you clearly.

“But i can he-“

“No you can’t help and you won’t. You have to take care of Charles and Caliban, okay?” Logan said while looking at you.

“Ugh fine!” You said as you slouched in your seat while folding your arms.

Logan saw your reaction and sighed. “Something isn’t right about this. Something is going to happen. Something bad and i don’t want you to be there when it happens. I can’t lose you.” Logan spoke quietly while avoiding eye contact.

You looked at Logan upon hearing his words. You could sense that he was avoiding eye contact on purpose. But that was okay. You knew Logan wasn’t a big fan of talking about his feelings or emotions. So him saying that he can’t lose you while literally avoiding your gaze at all costs, was enough for you.

“Okay, i’ll stay.” You spoke softly, immediately calming Logan’s nerves.

“Thank you.” Sighed Logan as he grabbed hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze before driving back home.

🏷️ : @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @captain039 @spideybv28 @littledebbieinabigworld @itsjenna2u @landlockedmermaid77 @hooomansstuff @strawberriezsweetie @littlemissoblivious @cherrybonbonss @allmyn1ghts

If you want to be added to the taglist for this mini series or Logan content in general, let me know! 🫶

[jesswriteswrongs]

Black and Blue

Fandom: Shameless (US)

Characters: Lip Gallagher x Female Reader, Veronica, Fiona, Ian, Carl, Steve

Summary: reader turns up at the Gallaghers house freezing and broken

Warnings: mentions physical abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, medical talk

Inspired by Bruised by @theapangea

Minors DNI

You ran, no idea where you were going, no time to grab a jacket, just running through the snowy night in nothing but your tank and underwear. You could barely focus, running and stumbling and running more, trying not to slip on the ice underfoot. Your feet were numb by the time you found yourself outside the Gallagher house, and the adrenaline that had got you there worn off. You gave two knocks, hoping they were loud enough, before slumping against the doorframe and willing the cold to take you over.

Inside the Gallagher house, Ian was watching a movie with Carl when there was a knock at the door.

“Hey Carl, did you hear that?” Ian asked his younger brother. Carl just shrugged.

“Hear what?” Ian frowned.

“I’m just gonna check the door, make sure nobody’s out there.” He reasoned, pausing the movie. He got up and opened the door to the empty street.

“Must’ve been the wind…” he muttered, before stepping back to close the door. Ian paled at the sight of you, covered in cuts and bruises, freezing to death in your underwear on the porch. “FIONA!” He shouted back into the house. There was a thundering on the stairs.

“What the fuck, Ian? I’m trying to…” Fiona’s voice trailed off. “Bring her inside.” Ian didn’t move. “Now, Ian!” Fiona shouted at him. The middle Gallagher bent down to pick you up, and you instinctively cowered away from him.

“Fi…” Fiona has already seen, and grabbed the thick blanket from the couch. She crouched beside you.

“Hi…” She said softly “look, I don’t know what’s happened, but what I do know is that you showed up at my house and if we don’t bring you inside you’re going to freeze to death. So, what we’re gonna do is we’re gonna wrap you in this blanket and Ian is going to bring you inside. He’s not going to touch you, just the blanket. Is that ok?” You nod slowly, barely hearing her as your brain was catching up with the events of the night. Fiona draped the blanket over you, and then there was an arm behind your back and another under your knees. Ian picked you up with ease and brought you inside the house, the warmth prickling against your skin.

“Carl, go next door and get V, tell her to bring her med kit.” Fiona barked, turning off the TV and clearing a spot on the sofa.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Carl protested.

“Bigger problems, Carl! You can watch the movie another time.” You barely registered this conversation as Ian gently put you down. Steve had appeared on the stairs to see what all the commotion was about.

“Ian, go and grab some of Lip’s clothes, sweats and a hoodie. Steve, I can see you on the stairs. Go put the kettle on the stove. Carl, V’s house, now. Everyone move!” The boys all went to do their respective jobs, Ian heading up the stairs, Carl grabbing his coat and Steve going to the kitchen. Fiona crouched down in front of you.

“It’s going to be ok, we’re gonna get you cleaned up and taken care of.” You nodded, still unable to process words to leave your mouth. Ian was the first back to the front room, clothes in hand. He put them on the arm of the couch so they were in easy reach, then went to the kitchen to “help” Steve. It was only another minute before Veronica entered the house.

“Ok, which Gallagher needs my help now, Fi?” Fiona stood up to greet her best friend.

“Not a Gallagher.” She sighed, leading V into the room. V saw you and immediately swore.

“Holy shit, Fiona! What the fuck happened here?”

“I don’t know,” Fiona said. “She’s a friend of Lip’s, showed up at the door a couple minutes ago and hasn’t said a word. She can hear and she’s reacting, fucking jumped out her skin when Ian tried to bring her inside, but I think she’s probably hypothermic.”

“Where d’she live?” Veronica asked, putting down her bag.

“117th.” Fiona supplied, running a hand through her hair.

“Fi, that’s a half hour walk from here.” V said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“In panties and a blanket?” Fiona bit her lip.

“Blanket’s ours.” Veronica swore again.

“That’s worse than I thought. I need a tub of warm water NOT HOT and some clean towels. Think you can get that for me?” Fiona nodded and went to get what was required. “Don’t you worry, Babygirl, we’re gonna get you all fixed up.” Veronica said to you. You didn’t respond.

Lip had been having a rough couple days, and had gone out for a few beers at the Alibi. He’d had a fight with his best friend about he didn’t even know what, but he knew it ended in her telling him to go fuck himself. He climbed the back stairs and opened the door into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Steve waiting for the kettle to whistle, Ian filling a plastic tub with water, and an air of intensity filling the house.

“What’s uh, what’s going on, guys?” Lip asked. Nobody responded. He moved further into the house and saw you sat on the sofa, Veronica in front of you, gently massaging your hands.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Lip asked, his voice low.

“Lip…” Fiona warned.

“What the FUCK is she doing here?!” Lip shouted. You flinched, pulling away from Veronica and curling yourself protectively into a ball.

“Phillip Gallagher!” Lip stopped. Fiona only called him Phillip in court. It was only then that he actually looked around. You were balled up on the couch with Veronica and a medical bag in front of you, Fiona had her phone in her hand with 911 already typed in, just then Steve came in with a steaming mug of tea, Ian following behind with a tub of water. Then he looked at you properly. The skin that wasn’t bruised or bloody was pale, your lips practically blue, and you were in your underwear. As he put the pieces together he wordlessly removed his boots and jacket, no longer caring about your fight, and sat on the couch.

“Hey, Bug,” Lip said gently “let’s get you nice and warm.” He pulled you in front of him, pressing his chest to your back in order to share his body heat. He coaxed your legs out, to allow Veronica to pour warm water over them, when he noticed something.

“V, stop a second.” He said

“Lip, time is of the essence here.” She replied

“I get that but just stop and look. She’s had sex tonight.”

“Are you really thinking about your dick right now, Gallagher?” Veronica was getting annoyed.

“Veronica!” He watched as the realisation slowly dawned on her.

“Fiona!” Veronica shouted. Fiona came into the room, phone pressed against her ear

“…yeah, she just turned up at my door, not said a thing and she’s fucking black and blue, Tony.” She put the receiver to her shoulder. “What?”

“Who was it, Bug?” Lip was asking. “Your brothers? Guys from school? Guys from a club?” You shook your head no on each of those. “Your dad?” You stilled, breathing becoming shallow. “Motherfucker… I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Lip clenched his teeth. He turned to Fiona.

“Her dad.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger then put his other forefinger through. Fiona’s face immediately set into anger and she put the phone back to her ear.

“Tony, you gotta go now…. Assault, yeah… physical… and sexual… if you don’t, I think Lip will and he can’t go to juvie… yeah, 117th, we’ve got her, just get him.” She clicked the phone off. “Tony’s on his way to find her dad-“

“I’ll go with him.” Lip interrupted, sitting up away from you slightly.

“Lip, I’m not having you in juvie. None of my kids have gone to prison and you’re not being the first. Plus… you’re the only person she’ll willingly let touch her, she wouldn’t even let Ian and we all know he’s not exactly a threat.” Fiona sighed. “You gotta stay here.”

“No, I gotta go and kill the bastard-“ As Lip spoke he moved himself from behind you towards Fiona. There was a rush of cool air as you felt his body heat leave you, and it was all just too much. You suddenly felt everything at once, and started sobbing. The room stopped. It was the most noise you had made since you turned up.

“She needs you here, Lip.” Fiona stated. Lip nodded mutely and sat back down. He put his arms around you, his chest once again pressed to your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, Bug. Everything is going to be ok. I’m here, you’re safe.” He soothed. You were shivering violently as the warmth was finally penetrating your skin. “Fi, can you go grab some clothes from my room?”

“One step ahead of ya.” Fiona pointed to the clothes on the couch. Lip nodded his thanks, and held out his hand to Veronica. She handed him a damp washcloth.

“Veronica and I are gonna clean you up, if that’s ok? Then we can get you dressed and warm. You’re staying here for now, you’re not going home.” You nodded your consent and Lip slowly started rubbing the washcloth over your skin. “Can we get her in the bath?” Lip asked Veronica “Would that be better?”

“I barely got her in the house.” Ian chimed in “but you’re welcome to try and get her upstairs.”

“A bath would be better…” Veronica thought aloud “is there hot water?” She looked to Ian and he nodded. “Go run a bath, again, warm not hot.” Ian nodded and headed towards the bathroom.

“We can get her in the bath and clean this blood and… other stuff off while she warms up, see what the situation is, patch her up.” He didn’t want to think about what had happened, if he did he was going to prison, so he focused on helping you instead. After a few minutes, you had calmed to the point of sniffling and Ian came downstairs “Bath’s ready.” Lip nodded

“You ready?” He asked you. “Can you walk or shall I pick you up?” You turned towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Ok, I’ll take you.” He kissed your temple softly, then slid an arm under your knees.

Lip didn’t bother undressing you, not that he could have with the blood sticking to your tank, he just lowered you into the water. He pulled his own shirt off so as not to get it wet, and grabbed the plastic cup from the windowsill. He stayed quiet as he poured cupfuls of water over your shoulders, occasionally pulling at your shirt to loosen the fabric from your skin. The once clear water was a pale pink by the time Lip put the cup down. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked. You hesitated. “I’m just gonna clean you up, check out your injuries.” You nodded, closing your eyes. He carefully lifted your shirt, pulling the back up over your head and then down your arms. He didn’t react to the gash across your back, or boot print on your kidney, he just picked up a washcloth and ran it gently over your skin.

“Can I wash the blood out of your hair?” He asked quietly. You nodded again, allowing Lip to wet and shampoo your hair, his strong fingers gently working the blood from your scalp. He tipped your head back to rinse the suds, the bath water tingeing a deeper shade of pink. Once your hair had been rinsed Lip stood up “I’ll just be a sec, ok?” He said gently “V, can you keep an eye?” Veronica nodded and headed into the bathroom, looking at the various injuries that he littering your torso. Lip headed downstairs and found Fiona in the kitchen, nursing a coffee.

“You want one?” She asked, holding up the pot “‘s gonna be a long night.” Lip shook his head and went over to hug her tightly. “Lip, you’re too strong to be crushing me like this!” She scolded, before she felt the damp spots on her shoulder. “Oh. Oh Lip…” Fiona hugged her little brother back, trying to remember the last time Lip had cried like that. She held him tightly for a few moments, one hand on his head and the other rubbing his back, while he cried over his best friend.

After a few minutes Lip pulled away, wiping his nose. “Sorry, I just…”

“You don’t need to apologise, Lip. We all have our moments.” Fiona said gently.

“I should, um… I should get back upstairs.” Fiona nodded and shooed him away, shoving the clothes at him. When Lip got back upstairs he found Veronica putting the last few stitches in your back, and grabbed a towel.

“Come on, let’s get you out.” He said gently, lifting you out of the water and on to the towel. He wrapped you up like you were as little as Liam. “You’re starting to warm up, Bug. Your lips aren’t blue anymore…” You noticed his eyes were rimmed red. “V, can you or someone go into my room, second drawer of the dresser at the back there’s a grey shirt. Can you grab it for me?” Veronica went and retrieved the item while Lip carefully dried the water off your skin.

“What so special about this shirt?” She asked

“Softest one I own.” He said, pulling it over your head. He continued to dress you in his clothes, before taking you to his room. Fiona had already left a brush and hairdryer on the bed, figuring Lip would need them. He started brushing your hair gently, blotting the water with a towel, before he turned the dryer on to a low setting. As he dried your hair you looked at the clock on his bedside table, telling you it was gone midnight. You had no idea what time you had left your own house, and immediately felt guilty about bothering the Gallaghers with your family problems. You should have just stayed, not made a fuss, gone to bed, hidden everything under your clothes at school tomorrow and pretended you fell if anyone asked. You and Lip were fighting, you just wanted him to try harder at school, get out of the shitty neighbourhood you both called home, but it had ended in you both screaming at each other, and you telling him to go fuck himself. The hairdryer switched off and Lip followed your eyes to the clock.

“Hey, Bug, no.” He crouched down in front of you. “I don’t care that it’s late, I don’t care that we had a fight. I care that you’re ok, I care that you came to me and you trusted me. Now, Fiona will be next door, you can sleep in here and I’m gonna take the couch.”

“Stay.” It was the first thing you had said all night, coming out quiet and raspy.

“O-ok. I can stay if you’re sure that’s what you want.” You nodded. “I just gotta grab some stuff from downstairs, then I’ll be back.”

Fiona was still drinking her coffee when Lip reentered the kitchen.

“How’s she doing?” Fiona asked. Lip leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette. He took a drag before handing it to Fiona.

“Well, she spoke, which is good. I told her I was sleeping on the couch and she asked me to stay, so I guess that’s what I’m doing. V had to sew up a cut across her back, she has a fucking boot print on one side, the other isn't even skin, it’s just a bruise, her shithead dad fucking raped her and she nearly killed herself getting here, so um… I’m just hoping she’s still in the house tomorrow morning.” Fiona squeezed his shoulder then handed back the cigarette.

“Take some tea up for her, it’ll help her warm up. It’s good you’re staying with her, cuz you gotta keep an eye on hypothermic afterdrop.”

“Hypothermic what?”

“I don’t know. V said something about core temperature dropping because of cold blood? Just… make sure she stays warm and breathing and has a heartbeat, and Lip?”

“Yeah?” He looked round at his big sister.

“Don’t sleep with her.” Lip opened his mouth to argue. “I know you won’t, but I’m just… reminding you, I guess. She might tell you she wants to, but she’s really vulnerable right now. Don’t take advantage of that.”

“I won’t.” Lip said quietly. “I couldn’t do that to her…” Fiona gave him a small smile and his shoulder another squeeze.

“Get some sleep. I’ll call school in the morning, tell them you’re sick.” Lip nodded tiredly and pulled out a mug, making a fresh cup of tea for you.

“Hey, Fi?” He called as she started to leave the kitchen.

“W’sup?” Fiona turned to look at him

“Thank you. For… everything.” Fiona went back over to Lip and kissed his cheek.

“I wasn’t gonna let her freeze.” She got to the door before calling out to him “Make sure you turn the lights off.”

“Will do.” Lip finished making your tea and took it upstairs, turning off lights and appliances as he went. You were sat against the headboard and he handed you the mug.

“It’s chamomile, it’ll help, promise.” You nodded, sipping at it as Lip put on sweats and a tshirt. He got into the bed next to you, pulling the comforter over you both and stroking your hair as you finished your tea. He took the mug from you and put it aside before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re safe now. Night, Bug.”

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[bunnwich]

It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun. 

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed: 

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

[memryse]

if mcyt isn’t fiction then

people who create dnd characters that are similar to them in personality are just playing themselves and should not be treated as having made a character

people who make any other dnd character should also be treated as just playing themselves since people refuse to even consider roleplay smps as fiction

any ocs someone puts a bit of themselves into? nope not fiction!

actors who play a character with the same first name as them aren’t really acting

and so on

maybe YOU can’t separate characters and real people and think that everything you see from a youtuber even when they’re explicitly acting is how they are in real life but we as a fandom just don’t have that issue lol. we’ve had disclaimers and indicators for when we’re talking about characters and not content creators for years because a certain smp contained a character having suicidal thoughts as a result of abuse at the hands of another character and we needed to make it absolutely crystal clear that we were referring to a fictional storyline and not real guy #1 being an abuser and real guy #2 being suicidal. these customs have either extended into other corners of mcyt fandom, or some developed their own independently like hispanic mcyt fans have used the word cubito to distinguish mc guy from real life guy from years, a term that other language speakers liked so much we’ve also started picking it up lol

we know exactly what we’re doing. i get that the line maybe does seem more blurred to an outsider looking in (i wouldn’t know given that both my first fandom at age 12 and current fandom at age 20 were mcrp lol) but it’s universally understood amongst us. i don’t have a problem separating hermitcraft!gem and empires s1!gem the wizard with a twin brother and empires s2!gem the princess and cc!gem the real life canadian woman.

idk it rubs me the wrong way that after years of trying to explain this we’re either met with people calling us racists because of three guys that the rest of us (all of us, really, because dream team fans do not claim to be minecraft fans. those are the type to actually write rpf and ship the real life racist guys) hate probably a lot more than any of you do, or they watch a few minutes of a less roleplay-heavy series/part and decide that the entire medium is invalid as a form of storytelling

it’s so annoying. i don’t think we need to be understood to have validity as a fandom we’ve been doing this for years already without that but it is so infuriating and sad how whenever there’s some kind of fandom poll thing one of three things happens

mcyt fans are banned outright and placed on the same level as something like hp

an mcyt fan runs their own and gets harassed for it

a non-mcyt fan allows us in until they get harassed so badly by whatever fandoms we go up against that they end up deleting our bracket

in what world is that normal behaviour. and that harassment always involves calling them all racist cishet white men such as misgendering both eret (real life bisexual genderqueer person) and their character (also queer), attempting to harass jimmy solidarity fans because jimmy makes mc videos so he must be a dream associate (the only time they interacted was in a tournament during which dream and georgenotfound shittalked jimmy’s best friends to his face), all the shit quackity has gotten for being a former friend of the dream team as if he wasn’t the #1 victim of their racism and xenophobia, the fact that any time c!technoblade is involved in a poll we have to beg other fandoms not to talk shit about him because the real life man died of cancer before dream’s grooming allegations came out, similarly when tfc was in one. and so on and so forth. all because people can’t separate roleplay and real life and think that the entire minecraft sphere revolves around dream just because their idea of mcyt does (not even his own smp named after him did that).

[humanpurposes]

So thrilled you’re taking requests! I love winter themed fics this time of year. I’m requesting modern Aemond (if not allowed then Michael Gavey) + stuck in this cabin until the storm passes/come sit by the fireplace. As much smut as you’d like with maybe a teeny bit of angst?

Thank you for taking requests, I know they will all be lovely

A/n: Took the liberty of making this a Michael Gavey request 😈 Also this gif is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!! Shoutout @barbieaemond and all the other amazing gif makers on here. These guys are such an integral part of fandom and they deserve all our love, appreciation and credit ❤️✨

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, slight angst, handjob, thigh riding (ish), Michael Gavey being awkard, but not quite a virgin

Main Masterlist

“Fucking skiing holiday. Should have fucking known this would be a fucking disaster.” 

Michael’s foul mouth hardly phases you anymore. When you first met him you thought he’d be a shy type of guy, with his baby blue shirts, cargos and wire frame glasses he kept pushing up with his middle finger.

You’d quickly found that he wasn’t at all like you expected. He can be abrasive, often judgemental and vulgar, not so unlike your other friends but with Michael it seems to come from a place of unashamed honesty. You sort of admire him for it.

He’s pacing the small living room and kitchen of the cabin, furiously fiddling with his mobile. You’re kneeling by the wood burning stove, hovering a lighter by the kindling in the hopes that you can light a proper fire.

You’re surprised he agreed to go on this trip at all. 

You have a few friends who do Maths, and at the start of second year they started inviting Michael to the pub on the weekends. You recognised him from your trips to the library, where he’d usually sit alone after his friend ditched him for Felix Catton.

They’d been all talking about a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year, to this little Italian village in the Alps. You didn’t— and still don’t— actually know how to ski, but spending a few nights in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow sounded like a dream. Michael had been sceptical at first but you’d managed to convince him to come when you said you’d need someone to keep you company when the others were on the slopes.

The others had all gone out as soon as you arrived, leaving Michael to get settled in the cabin.

But it’s turned out to be somewhat of a nightmare. It’s too dark to actually see the snow storm but you can hear it, shrieking and howling against the walls and windows of the cabin. You have no service, no central heating, just the small assortment of snacks you had brought with you, a packet of paprika crisps, a bar of chocolate and a prosciutto sandwich you’d bought back at the main resort, back down the mountain, back in civilisation.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!”

“What now?” You ask, still focused on the fire.

“Mobile’s fucking dead. Shit! I have a charger in my bag but the bloody electricity isn’t fucking working so I can’t fucking charge it!”

You smile to yourself as the kindling catches alight and the flames start to lick at the larger logs.

You glance over your shoulder as Michael tosses his phone on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and catches his lower lip with his teeth.

“I have plenty of charge on mine,” you say, “I’ll turn it off to save the battery and we can see if the service is working in the morning?”

Michael stares at you for a lingering moment. He can be so intense sometimes, almost unsettlingly so. “You want us to stay here all night?” he says softly.

“People know we’re here. I’m sure someone from the resort will come up when they can. Until then, we just have to wait out the storm.”

He tuts, but he knows you don’t have any other options.

You sit together with your backs against the sofa so that you can be as close to the fire as possible. The heat pleasantly burns your face and skin through your jeans and jumper. Even then, where your arm presses against Michael’s, you feel the warmth of his body beside you. 

You grab the crisps and the sandwich out of your bag, offering them both to Michael. He only takes a handfuls of crisps and when you split the sandwich in two he takes the smaller half. You offer him more of the chocolate bar but he insists he’s not hungry. You frown at that. It might not be a Crunchie, but Michael never turns down chocolate. 

“How was your Christmas?” You ask, popping a square of chocolate on your tongue.

“Fine,” he says, looking down at his hands, “had dinner with my dad and my nan, went to see my mum on Boxing Day.”

Guilt twinges in your chest. “Are your parents not together?”

“Oh no, they split up a long time ago,” he says, like it should have been obvious.

“I’m sorry.”

He turns to face you, staring intensely. “Why would you be sorry?” 

“Because I didn’t realise.”

He smiles. You think it’s because he knows you’re nervous. “I’ve been splitting Christmases between my parents every year since I was twelve, I’m well used to it now.”

The topic doesn’t seem to phase him. He takes another crisp from the packet and looks into the fire as he crunches it between his teeth.

The low light reminds you of the nights you’ve sat opposite him in the King’s Arms in Oxford, all the times you’ve been tipsy off wine spritzers and found yourself trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring at him. He’s handsome, especially up close when you can see the details of his face, his lips, his surprisingly pretty eyelashes, the little cleft on the tip of his nose.

When his eyes turn towards you, you think your heart might leap out of your chest.

You take a quick breath, eyes darting around the room, at the fire, the pile of logs beside the stove, the sprinkling of ashes on the floor, but it seems inevitable that you’ll find your way back to him.

“Why did they split up?”

Michael raises his eyebrows but keeps his face solemn. “She left him for someone else.”

“Oh,” is all you can think of to say. 

“It happens,” he says. “People always want to find something better. My dad was never the most exciting guy to be around.”

“But what about you?”

He huffs a laugh to himself. “I’m not exactly enticing company either.”

You can’t tell if you just want the conversation to end or if you should say something else.

“It’s not something I can fix,” Michael says. One of his hands rests on his thigh and he slowly flexes it so the tendons shift beneath his skin. “And it’s not something that needs to be fixed. People come in and out of your life, but you move on. That’s just the way it is.”

He’s almost hunched over himself, with his chin tilted down and his glasses sliding down towards the end of his nose. 

You’d seen him in the pub once, back in first year, with that friend of his, Oliver Quick. Oliver had gone up to the bar and ended up sitting with Felix Catton and his band of admirers. You’d watched Michael leave the pub and remember your heart shattering for him, for this boy you didn’t even know.

Now, stuck in this cabin, snow swirling past the windows, the sound of the fire crackling a few feet in front of you, and Michael’s side pressed against yours, your heart shatters all over again.

You place your hand over his, and he instantly stops moving. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”

Michael tries not to smile. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he says.

You curl your fingers over his hand and tighten your grip. His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself frowning, because he doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t see himself the same way you see him. 

“I mean it. You’re funny, even when you don’t even mean to be, and honest, and straightforward…”

You glance down at his lips, slightly parted as he listens to you. It crosses your mind to lean in closer, but something stops you.

“I really love that we’re friends,” you say.

Michael looks down at your hands. His lips are pressed together.

He doesn’t want this, you think. He doesn’t want me.

So you pull away, with a little smile to keep it friendly.

He blinks a few times as he looks back at your face. “Thanks,” he says, softly. 

He stands, and you don’t think you can bear to look at him as he moves towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

You turn your attention to the fire, add another log for good measure and poke at the glowing embers in its heart.

You hear movement behind you, footsteps and fabric.

When you look back you see Michael has his arms full with pillows and blankets. He layers some of the blankets on the rug, and soon he has two makeshift beds, one on the sofa and one on the floor.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“We’ll freeze in the bedrooms without the heating, we might as well make use of the fire.”

It’s a good call, and now that you have somewhere to sleep you start to realise how tired you are. 

You rummage through your suitcase and pull out a pair of pyjamas you got for Christmas. Michael changes in one of the bedrooms and comes back in one of his maths pun t-shirts and a pair of red and black bottoms. 

You go to lie in the bed on the floor but Michael puts his hand on your shoulder and insists you sleep on the sofa.

Even with the heat of the fire on your face and the blanket pulled up to your chin, you can’t stop shaking. Your limbs are frozen and your skin is tight, but it feels deeper set than that. You feel the cold in your chest like a fever.

It feels like hours have passed and you still can’t sleep.

“I can hear your teeth chattering,” Michael’s voice grumbles below you. You peer down over the edge of the sofa. He’s turned away from you, towards the fire. You hadn’t even realised he was still awake.

“It’s fucking cold,” you say, wincing at the quiver in your voice.

Michael shifts to his other side so he’s facing you. You’ve never really seen him without his glasses, and he looks completely different, somehow softer, not as harsh.

“We’ll be warmer if we, if we share,” he says quietly.

His suggestion weighs heavy in the space between you, unless it’s just in your head. You can already imagine yourself pressed against him, feeling the warmth from his body and letting it sink into yours.

You don’t trust yourself not to try something stupid either.

You take the blanket with you. The floorboards are piercing against your bare soles so you step on the balls of your feet, quickly slotting yourself by Michael’s side, on the layers of blankets. 

He’s facing you now, your noses must only be inches apart and you feel his breath running over your cheek.

You try to steady your own breathing, but it only makes your heart beat faster.

You see his neck move as he swallows. “Come here,” he mutters, and brings his arm around you, pressing his palm to your back to pull you closer into his chest.

You let your arm drape over his side and your legs intertwine with his. You need the heat, tucking your head in under his chin and resting the side of your face against him.

You move with the rise and fall of his chest, breathe in the scent of him with every breath, hear his heartbeat against your ear.

If you shifted your head slightly, your lips would meet the base of his throat.

Want tightens and lingers in your stomach, but curled up under Michael’s arm, you let its dull ache soothe you to sleep.

You wake slowly, opening your eyes to cold sunlight glaring through the windows. In your haste to get warm last night, you had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains. All you see on the other side is white, the snow now settled and piled high.

The fire has long since died and the air is colder than it was when you fell asleep, sharp as you take a breath through your nose.

It’s still warm where your cheek meets Michael’s chest, where his hand rests against your back and your bodies are pressed together.

It feels good to be so close to him. He’s still asleep, as far as you can tell. You hear the heavy sound of his breathing, air fluttering in his throat and passing through his pouted lips.

As you start to become more aware, more awake, a warm wanting stirs in your gut and between your legs.

It’s a stupid little crush, one you’ve not been able to distract yourself from these last few months.

You start to trace your fingertips over his chest, feeling where his chest is hard, then soft, and remember everything you said to him the night before, and what you perhaps should have said.

You nuzzle your face in closer to him, to the clean scent of his t-shirt and something else that is so uniquely him.

You try to stay like this for as long as possible, even if it’s torture not to want more.

“You’re moving a lot,” he mutters. You feel his voice rumbling in his chest and humming against your head like it’s a part of you.

Only when you freeze do you realise you’ve been rocking your hips, every hint of friction you get against the fabric of your pyjamas only fueling your hunger. But you’ve stopped now, resting your palm against his stomach.

“I’m cold,” you say.

“Hmm,” he says, resting his lips and his chin against your head, over your hair, “I don’t feel cold.”

The low rasp of his voice only makes you want him more.

The lingering haze of sleep must be clouding your judgement, your sense.

You tilt your head up, brushing your lips over his throat like you’d imagined. You feel him shudder, and feel his stomach tighten under your touch.

He utters your name in a breathless whisper as he paws at your back and pushes his hips into yours. His arousal is evident, hard and pressing to your centre through two layers of fabric.

And then he pauses, and his hand slips away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says.

You drag your hand down a little further, to slip under his t-shirt and feel the ridges of his surprisingly toned stomach, just above the waistband of his bottoms. “Why are you sorry, Michael?”

“I don’t know, I just…” he huffs in frustration as his hand returns to your body, gripping at your waist through your shirt.

You start to snag your fingers on the waistband, and realise he’s forgone wearing any boxers to bed. “Do you want me to help you?” You whisper, unable to hold back a grin.

“Yes, fuck, please,”

A whine sounds in his throat as you shift his bottoms down just enough to free his cock, and close your hand around it. He’s bigger than you expected, long and thick, heavy, hard and soft-skinned as you stroke, up, down, up, down.

You enjoy the feel of him, run your thumb over his weeping tip as he starts to pant and try to hold back his moans, leaning against you and ghosting his lips against your temple.

You only feel yourself becoming more and more desperate. You hook your leg over his, grinding your core against his thigh. Sparse sparks of pleasure course through your body, not enough for a release, but it still feels good.

You tilt your head again, eagerly pressing your lips to his. He seems taken by surprise at first, but meets you with clumsy enthusiasm. He kisses you like it might save him from something. Once or twice he seems to lose track, dragging his lips to the corner of your mouth only to pull you back into him.

The movements become more and more frantic, your hand pumping Michael’s cock, his hips bucking under your touch.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”

You rock particularly hard against his thigh, and he brings his hand to your rear, squeezing at your flesh and urging you on.

You tease your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling at the wanton noise he makes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you gonna cum for me Michael?” You whisper as you up the pace.

“Please,” he grunts, “please…” and suddenly he’s moaning against your skin, holding you tightly as you feel his cock pulse in your hand as he spills over your fingers and knuckles.

You quickly move your head back so you can look at him, eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack and tongue just peeking out from behind his teeth.

“You’re so pretty,” you say quietly.

He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you with a dazed smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“So fucking pretty,” you say, with another drag against his thigh.

He hums, low and cryptic in his chest. “Do you need some help there?”

Before you can answer he’s slipped his hand underneath your pyjamas. He cups your bare, wet cunt, lightly circling over your clit with the tip of his finger.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he mutters, all but teasing your lips as he leans in to kiss you. “Got yourself all worked up, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “fuck, don’t tease me, please…”

“Now, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses more firmly against you, hastening his movements so your breath catches in your throat. “We might still have a few hours before anyone comes to get us, and I can think of more than a few ways to pass the time.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

[bad268]

Can you please write a Pezzy x gn! reader for the truth or hydrate stream, where the reader admits that they’d date Pezzy & find him attractive (and maybe make some suggestive jokes), and how he & the others would react? I love your writing, by the way, keep up the great work!

Confess or Drink (Pezzy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (did I start this the same way as the last one? Yes. Why? Because it’s from the same video, but trust, I did change it lol)

Warnings: Mentioned reader being on Adderall

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1547

Summary: A little too much alcohol and a little too much confessed.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“What’s up gamers? How y’all doing today?” Droid started off as people began flooding into the stream. I was grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge as the guys bantered back and forth before sitting next to Pezzy, closer to the computer to read the chat. “Someone wanna explain bruh? It’s a lot.”

“Bitch, it’s your thing!” Grizzy laughed along with Puffer and Pezzy while rolled my eyes and cracked open a Mike’s. 

“Geez, we’re doing truth or drink,” Droid explained, going into deeper detail. Puffer, jokingly, started snoring, so Droid said, “Aye, quiet down in the back, yeah?”

“Chat says it's a slumber party,” I laughed, pointing out since the message was highlighted. 

“Guys, take your shoes off, stay awhile. Slumber party!” Pezzy joked, enthusiastically. “Are your feet stinky?”

“Please don’t. I do not need chat spamming about feet for the next 2 hours,” I groaned as I leaned back. Droid was already pulling his shoes off and trying to smell them. “Can you not?”

“I can smell them from here actually! Those actually smell,” Puffer complained. Droid tried to smell his feet again, and he made a face before putting his shoes on.

“You realized they stink?” I asked rhetorically, chuckling as I took a drink. “Okay, what are we doing?”

“This is the dealio,” Droid started. “Truth or drink. If someone doesn’t want to answer a question, they have to take a shot.”

“Oh, this was meant to be hot sauce?” Grizzy asked, looking at the box.

“Yeah, it's a Hot Ones game,” I laughed, leaning over Pezzy to point at the box.

“He’s a pussy, dude,” Pezzy stated.

“Y’all keep it at 89 fucking degrees in this house. You think I want hot sauce right now?” Grizzy emphasized.

“That’s all Pezzy, bruh,” Droid muttered.

“Ok, ladies,” I interrupted. “Let’s just do the first card. Puffer can start ‘cause he’s at the end. Simple.”

“And this is why we have you,” Pezzy laughed. “Keep us on track.”

“Oh, yeah have the person who relies on Adderall to keep y'all on track,” You responded sarcastically. “Makes sense to me.”

“Okay, guys. What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?” Puffer read off the card before turning his attention to the rest of us.  

“I shit my pants in a car ride home with my friends,” Grizzy said immediately. We all started talking over each other until Grizzy interrupted us, “I was like 8, bro!”

“I got one,” Puffer paused as Droid said that he knew it. “I fell in the San Antonio River.”

“OH! What the fuck?!” Droid shouted. All of us started laughing as Puffer told the story of the bike breaking and flinging him into the river. “There’s no ladder, so once you’re in, you’re in.”

“My dad took me to the track,” Droid started, going into a long story about how he shit himself immediately after arriving home. “I think I was just relieved to be home and I made it far enough.”

“Mine was when I was in school and I trusted a fart too much,” Pezzy began. “I had to call my mom and say I shit my pants.”

“Holy shit, guys! Literally!” I laughed as I finished my first drink. “While I did not shit myself after age 6, I ‘fell’ into the fountain in Las Vegas during the national anthem once for $100. Try explaining you’re broke to the police and them not believing you.”

“That’s crazy dude,” Pezzy laughed.

“Crazy? I was crazy once-”

“NO stop!”

~

“Who would you trade lives with?”

“Puffer?” Droid and Grizzy eyed him.

“Nah, I’m good. My answer is I’m good,” Puffer said fast.

“I think I’d be down to swap with Pezzy,” I chuckled, looking over to him. I held up my drink as if to cheers with him. “What do you say?”

“I’m down,” He agreed, clanking his bottle with mine.

~

“Who have you fantasized about in your life that you shouldn’t have? No celebrities allowed,” Pezzy read. 

“Pezzy. Next question,” I said quickly.

“Why? Do you not want to admit who you’ve fantasized about?” Puffer laughed causing the rest to start laughing as well.

“What? I answered already,” I replied confused, ”It’s y’all’s turn.”

“Wait, you’re blushing!” Grizzy pointed out as he started wheezing.

“You’re answer was Pezzy?!” Droid shouted in disbelief. Everyone was still cracking up, and Pezzy was leaning back against the couch, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Yes!” I shouted back. I leaned forward as I pointed back at Pezzy. “Have you SEEN him? He’s hot!”

“Can we not talk about this live and drunk?” Pezzy intervened.

“No! This guy thinks it's so random that I find you hot!”

“It’s because of his nose right?” Droid shouted as he pointed at Pezzy, “I fucking told you! I knew that shit was pleasing someone!”

“Okay, I’d rather not talk about my sex life on live, my guy,” I drew the line. Despite being pretty drunk, I knew that would be a slippery slope.

“Well, it looks like you’re gonna have to. What was your most recent porn search?” Droid asked. Everyone started complaining, saying they were going to take a shot.

“I will take the shot dude,” I laughed, already downing the Crown. “Wait I got a question. Do any of you dabble in the hentai?”

Immediately, the boys responded with “Yes.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as I cringed at all of them. “Y’all are fucking gross. Do y’all feel disgusting afterward because damn that's actually nasty.”

“I have gone so far down that rabbit hole, it is not even funny,” Pezzy admitted. 

“You are really feeling those drinks, huh” Grizzy laughed. 

“Yes, I am,” Pezzy responded definitively.

“We did not need to know you that personally, Pezzy,” I laughed, taking a shot.

“Seems like you wanted to know him pretty personally,” Puffer muttered as he took a drink.

“Yes, but not that kind of personally,” I laughed. “I’m gonna head out before I destroy my career more than I already have. If someone wants to follow me,” I jokingly coughed out Pezzy’s name, “I’ll be in my room.”

“I don’t think I want to continue living in this house, knowing what you two will be doing in there,” Grizzy grimaced as he stood up and left the room. 

“Meg’s gonna pick me up. Yall can stay the night if you really need out,” Puffer offered as Droid ended the stream and started cleaning up around the living room. 

That’s when they all noticed that Pezzy was still sitting on the couch. He was not making any move to move either, so naturally, Droid, being the nosey guy he is, asked about it. “Are you really gonna let this opportunity go? They practically asked you to meet in their room.”

“We’re both drunk,” Pezzy groaned. “I’m not gonna take advantage of them like that. We’ll talk in the morning or something.”

“Are you sure you’ll even remember it in the morning?” Puffer asked as Grizzy came back with water bottles for everyone.

“The love of my life just admitted that they found me hot. I will definitely remember this in the morning,” Pezzy sighed before standing and heading to his room for the night.

The next morning, the house was eerily quiet when I walked into the kitchen. There was a note on the table, saying that Grizzy and Droid went to Puffer’s house for the night. I just shrugged to myself and moved around the kitchen. I opened a bottle of Sprite and left it open on the counter while I started making breakfast. Not anything too complex, just simple eggs.

It did not take long for Pezzy to come walking into the kitchen and sit at the island. I turned my head back to see him with his head resting against his forearms on the granite. I chuckled to myself before asking, “How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled, please,” He groaned as he turned his head to look at me. That’s when he noticed that his view was blocked by the Sprite bottle. “What’s with the Sprite? Isn’t it a bit early for soda?”

“Flat Sprite is the best cure for a hangover,” I replied as I mixed up and cooked the eggs. “I think I ran out of ibuprofen last time, and we could split it if you want. We’ll need to talk about last night at some point. Grizzy and Droid won’t be back until later.”

“Why don’t we go for lunch?” Pezzy offered as he took a couple of drinks of the Sprite. “We could take the bike.”

“I literally just made eggs,” I groaned holding out the pan for him to see that they were almost finished cooking. 

“Give it to the dog,” He laughed, standing up to wrap his arms around my waist as he leaned his head on my shoulder. “It’ll be my treat.”

“As long as I get to rev your bike at least once, I’m down,” I countered, leaning back into his chest. 

“You can rev it all you want,” He smirked, rubbing his face in my neck.

“Okay, you ruined it,” I laughed as I pushed away from him. “Go get ready while I give this to the dog.”

~~ Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (1/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Number 8 challenged him. Ben just needed to decide if he liked it or not. Nope, definitely hated it. There was no way in hell he actually liked the little Empath.

Word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

Warnings: sparrow!ben is a warning in itself, language, violence, mental abuse (y'know Reginald's usual schtick)

Author’s note: I'm merely writing moments in the lives of these characters, since I don't know all the quotes. So the chapters are going to feel like snippets/best moments. I made this series shorter than I expected, but I'm cramming everything together as I wanted. (Set in S3)

I didn't feel like doing a lot of world-building, to be honest. I'm aware this isn't my best work, sorry, my depression makes me tired. I just realized when I wrote that dojo scene that I liked Sparrow!Ben so much because he reminded me of an older version of Damian Wayne. 😅 Please be gentle 🤗 I've never written for this fandom before. You want to be tagged or untagged, let me know. As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where the hell is my brother?”

Your determined voice carried to the departing backs of Ben and Fei. Even walking through those corridors in this strange timeline felt utterly surreal. Not to mention, profoundly strange seeing this older version of Ben. After remembering the pictures of when he was still alive.

So, you could only compare this version with the stories Klaus loved to tell. A funny mess. And most of the time a little shit.

Judging by the sarcastic look Ben threw over his shoulder before he fully turned his body, this version of Ben certainly was willing to stir some trouble.

Ben smirked. Fei copied his arrogant demeanor next to him, silently watching this exchange.

“Relax, we just want to have a little chat, and then we’re done with you two.”

Just hearing him talk so unceremoniously about your lives like that simmered something inside you. Like the two of you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Like Luther and you were barely a blip on their radar.

Your face contorted with anger. To infuriate him just a tad, with the way he infuriated you with his callous words, your body barely leaned forward.

“We’re not things you can just dispose of once we served our purpose.”

Ben tilted his head. There was something fascinating about rendering someone like him speechless for a moment. You weren’t foolish enough to think you were getting to him. Your fingertips twirled behind your back to get a grasp on Ben’s emotions, only to sense something akin to a daze tingling under the surface. Not trusting your own empathetic powers what you detected was real.

Barely turning his head, Ben spoke to Fei with a certain voice. “I can handle this one.”

Fei smirked to herself before murmuring, “I’m sure you do,” and leaving Ben on his own.

He laced his fingers behind his back while playfully dancing on the back of his feet. Ben pursed his lips. “Something I can help you with?”

“How about being the responsible one by having a real conversation instead of using people for your benefit by literally abducting them, huh?”

Ben nodded repetitively, like he couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings. “Right.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What’s the name of the big guy again?”

You conjured a patient smile. “Luther. You know, your brother from another timeline?”

Ben crossed his arms, revealing a crooked smile. “As everyone keeps telling me. I wouldn’t call it an abduction,” he exhaled tiredly, shrugging slightly.

“Are we allowed to leave?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I think he’s starting to like it here. And, you know, you seem seconds away from falling for our charms. We do have things to offer that your precious Umbrellas can only dream of.”

Mocking laughter erupted from your chest before Ben joined in. “Right. Wow, someone’s really sold on themselves.”

“I mean, calling it an abduction? Sounds kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw. Remembering Luther’s emotions brought you back to the park, like they were your own. “I felt his desperation ahead of me,” you replied, deciding to remind him.

At the mention, Ben pointed at you, remembering. “So, you’re the emotional one, huh? What’s your number again?”

“I’m not just a number, Hargreeves.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Not surprised that you would deem something like empathy barely a power. I’d like to see you handle an anxiety attack when I’m done with you.”

Ben waved his arms at his sides. His aura was literally shimmering with excitement as he smirked widely. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like this version of Ben felt drawn to any sort of mischief, the more the better. “And I thought Klaus was the crazy one,” you muttered under your breath. With a normal voice, you inquired, “Where’s Luther?”

“Probably in the kitchen still miserably failing at charming the pants off Sloane.”

A sigh left you when you mutely walked away towards the direction of Fei’s departure. Truth be told, only to get away from Ben faster.

You had already walked away with brisk steps when Ben’s arrogant sing-song voice made you regret all your life choices. “Other way.”

You instantly turned, while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking smart-ass.” You didn’t need to spare him a glance to feel Ben’s arrogant joy coming off of him in waves when he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in delight.

“You know where to find me if you want to work on those powers of yours, … Number Eight.” Ben chuckled with mirth.

Self-loathing rippled through you just a tad for not letting your power detect Luther’s aura through the mansion to avoid this embarrassing situation altogether. And you blamed yourself for underestimating him. For thinking Ben wouldn’t have interrogated Luther about you.

“So, this is what you guys are doing in your free time, huh?”

Ben’s eyes remained closed when he performed his tai chi movements in the dojo, not letting himself appear to be ruffled by your presence.

“This tells me everything I need to know about your squadron of Umbrellas. How does it feel wasting your day away, not improving?”

You remained unfazed by his choice of insults. In the end, you were used to Reginald’s mental abuse. Your eyes followed his movements, content with watching his little ritual while leaning with your shoulder against the pillar.

“Depends. What’s it feel like when you’re not being a mascot for a Hargreeves empire?”

Ben scoffed in derision. “You think you can distract me?”

Grateful for his answer, you smiled in pure delight before sitting cross-legged on the middle of the training mat. “Oh, I know I am. Besides, I wanted to take you up on that offer which was made by a helpful Ben.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t ever call me that. You’re delusional for thinking I want to help you.”

You dramatically pressed your hand to your chest. “‘Oh, Y/N, I just can’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means helping you advance your powers.’”

Forced laughter erupted from Ben’s chest. “Har har, and I thought Sundance was the hilarious one.”

“Klaus.” You reminded him diligently.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Empath.”

You were strangely getting used to this Ben and felt truly like you were having a grand ol' time with him. Even if that meant ruffling his feathers. “You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Ben muttered with a gruff voice.

You continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “Someone’s really pretending that they don’t care about anyone or anything. Or, second theory-”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Ben interrupted you wryly.

“Maybe you don’t mind a distraction to take your mind off things.”

This time around, Ben turned to face you before he knelt down. Leaning over you until you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I’m the emotional one, remember?” You whispered before you pursed your lips when a thought hit you. “Not to mention, I can feel your curiosity, with a smidge of you itching for a fight.”

Ben snorted. “You’re adorable for thinking you can take me in a fight-”

An angelic smile tugged at your mouth. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest which was revealed underneath the dark robe. Your fingertips tingled before you let your power come to the surface.

The golden shimmer enshrouded Ben’s chest, pulling him backwards. No matter how many times you had done it before, your hands cautiously studied his aura once you heard his heavy breathing.

You still whispered soothingly, “That’s the sensation you get for being close to fainting. That feeling of vertigo tormenting your body and like your head can’t get enough air.”

The caring side of you stroked Ben’s feverish forehead until the dizzying spell lessened and was finally relieved.

You swallowed once you met Ben’s darkened gaze. He stared at you with glittering eyes, like he was truly seeing you for the first time. Ben licked his lips. “I think … I might have some use for you after all.”

“You may not know this, but my power doesn’t work like a medium,” you said, nervously rubbing your thighs to stimulate your senses.

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Sparrow had changed back into a shirt after the impromptu training session. He leaned forward and warned through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be of help, or not? Get this done, and you and your brother can go back to whatever shithole you stay at.”

“Not with this type of energy in the room.” You widened your eyes at Ben’s glowering ones to make your point. Before long you sat down on Marcus’ bed, with a bored Fei leaning against the door jamb.

Ben’s sister twiddled her manicured fingernails. “Is this a waste of time?”

He clenched his jaw, facing her. “No, it’s not. I know what she can do.”

“Aww, Benny-boo, you believe in me. That’s so cute. Who knew you had a heart?”

Fei smirked, tilting her head. “Not me.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are we done with the ‘band together against Ben today’? I’m doing whatever it takes to locate Marcus here and you two are not helping with the situation.”

You pressed your lips together at Ben’s all too serious demeanor. “Just trying to lighten the mood since your tense atmosphere isn’t helping with the task at hand.”

Ben shared a close-lipped smile, caging your body in on the bed. Despite his threatening air, you remained steadfast and didn’t move an inch.

“Do you mind just doing the thing before I lose my mind and let my tentacles do the talking?”

You narrowed your eyes. Ben needed to work on his lacking social skills, if his only resort were threats. “Say please?”

You could breathe easier again when Ben straightened his body and crossed his arms. “Keep dreaming.”

You exhaled heavily. Half the time he was fun to talk to and other times, he wore you out. “Just give me something of his that holds emotional value,” you mentioned, patiently waiting. The awkward silence confused you to no end. Ben and Fei exchanged glances among each other.

“Why is nothing happening?”

Ben turned to Fei. “Get Sloane.”

His sister tilted her head, challenging him. “Oh, I can just summon my crows.”

The muscles on Ben’s arms tensed before his jaw clenched with his next words. “Fei, take a walk.”

Her shoulder shook with mirth when Fei left with relaxed steps.

Ben’s sarcastic voice pulled you back to him. “I’m guessing giving you one of his leather jackets wouldn’t count, right?”

Your elbows supported you when you settled back. “Wouldn’t get the desired effect. So, let me guess, you guys are just numbers and soldiers?”

Ben shrugged, leaning his hip against the cabinet. “Gets the job done.”

“And you’re content with that?”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. Or at least, you couldn’t imagine someone being satisfied with being so shallow. “Right. Because being associated to a number is all that matters.”

Ben smirked crookedly. “Oh, there’s nothing better.”

“Right, Number Two,” you added, trying to get to him.

“You trying to flirt with me, Eight?”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “You wish.”

Ben chuckled, pondering to himself. “Who’d have thought? Maybe I prefer calling you Empath more than Eight. It’s pretty close though.”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks blush at being more intertwined with that status of Empath than a generic number. “You’re weird.”

The mood of his aura changed to something unfamiliar. At least to someone like Ben. He cleared his throat. “So,…”

“So…?” You teasingly copied him, putting the side of your head against your shoulder, watching his reaction.

Ben crossed his arms. “What was he like?”

“Our Ben? Why do you want to know?” To you, it seemed strange for someone like him to inquire about his alternate version.

He eyed something outside the window. “Just curious, I guess,” Ben said, still not looking at you.

“Why don’t you ask Klaus or the others? I only met Ben after he was dead.”

“Wait, what?” That finally got a reaction out of Ben when he rapidly turned his head to stare at you with a peculiar gaze.

You sighed, remembering the circumstances of you meeting your siblings for the first time. “Reginald called me ‘the replacement’.”

Maybe this was ultimately his plan to ostracize you from the others by using that term. At least, you had Diego and Luther at your side. Klaus soon joined that tight-knit little circle once you confided in feeling that sensation of an unfamiliar aura wandering the halls of the manor.

Sometimes it still hurt how everything progressed. Your siblings emanating their grief onto you didn’t bother you. It was their apathy, that they didn’t care about you.

“I was taken in after Ben’s death. I could only feel his aura around after he was dead. I can sense who someone is in a way. Feel what kind of a person they are. Ben was always…” You pondered deeply how to describe someone like him. How to condense someone’s life and traits into the essence of someone.

“Kind, intelligent, mostly mischievous.” You smiled fondly, whispering quietly, “I could never replace him even if I tried.”

You didn’t know what it was about your gaze that made the Sparrow avoid it again. With the shaking of your head, you dispelled your thoughts. The new aura close by tickling your fingertips was a fitting distraction.

You glanced towards the open door. “Hey, Sloane.”

Seconds later, said woman poked her head into the room, smiling with a delighted air. “Neat party trick.”

An expectant Ben raised his eyebrows, interrupting any further carefree moments. “Sloane, Marcus’ favorite stuff he liked to touch?”

You felt inclined to add something else before more inquiries could arise. “In other words, yes. Or something that mattered to him.”

“There should be a book in his nightstand.”

That was the only mention Ben needed before he opened the drawer. Ben shook his head with a scoff, inspecting the worn edition. He showed his sisters the found evidence. “Are you kidding me? The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Sloane waved her open palms soothingly. “Remember we just want Marcus back.”

“What a nerd,” he grumbled, carelessly giving you the book.

“Says you? It’s a timeless classic,” you admonished Ben lightly before reaching for the hardcover edition.

Ben smirked. “I rest my case.” He furrowed his brows when a second thought hit him. “And what did you just say to me?”

You chose to ignore Ben’s little angry outburst when Sloane sat next to you on the bed. “Will it be enough for you to build a psychic connection?”

You closed your eyes, trying to hone in on the source. With your fingertips brushing along the spine of the book, your search for the truth was soon answered with the first memory remnants hitting you. Shivers coursed through your body at the sensation of Marcus’ memories filling your mind like they were your own.

There was an abundance of wishful thinking contained into the book, the craving of a different reality when Marcus’ birth mother granted him this first and last gift.

“It should suffice,” you said assuredly. With a calming sigh, you leaned your head back against the pillows. The book was held tightly in your grip.

“Yeah, sure. Have a nap, why don’t you? Something else you need? Maybe some soothing music, a face mask?”

Your eyes remained closed when you murmured, “Ben Hargreeves.” To get the message across, you made a quiet coyote signal. Hoping it would calm his frayed nerves.

A ripple of Ben’s undignified frustration wafted through the air. His only answer was a harrumphing noise.

You stirred your head, biting your lip in confusion. “I can feel a strong enough remnant, but I should be able to sense his location.”

“What are you saying?” Ben inquired tightly.

You chose your next words carefully. “I’m saying, … I can’t feel Marcus.”

“What does this mean?” Fei’s strained voice shared Ben’s sentiment. “Are you saying he’s dead? Abducted?”

At last, you opened your eyes. The perplexity of this unsolved mystery still plaguing your mind even after. It was more than nerve-wracking. “I’m saying that I should be able to find him, but I can’t. It’s like he just … vanished.”

The air crackled with hostility. Anxiously, you swallowed, staring straightforward. You jumped back when Ben’s wrath reached you.

Holding you down with his tentacles, with one of them slinging around your throat. Tightly but menacingly enough to spell out his primal urges. Ben’s body draped over yours. Fury blazed in his darkened eyes. “Now, Umbrella, I’m done with your little mind games.”

Sloane stood behind Ben’s shoulder, raising her voice. “Ben, let go.”

“Not until I find out what her family has done to him.”

With a hoarse voice, you implored darkly, “Listen to your sister before your Cthulu tentacles get the memo about me too.” As a warning, you gripped the surprisingly smooth appendage around your throat.

You cursed your curious mind for even harboring the thought of wanting to know how the tentacle’s skin would feel like.

Ben’s smile grew tighter, the more his eldritch monster’s hold intensified. “Try me, Eight.”

Summoning empathetic energy from within to converse it as a kinetic shield, you blasted him against the cabinet and leaving small splinters of wood on the carpet.

With a grunting noise, Ben’s tentacles drew back into his body. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly. Ben dragged his body upwards until he was leaning against the furniture for support. He offered a blood-stained smile in reverence before he wiped off the crimson evidence from his lips. “Little minx.”

A dull thud resounded when you dropped the book on the duvet. You stood up and with a quiet voice you told Ben in no uncertain terms, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Remembering the company of Ben’s sisters and the result of your outburst, you awkwardly glanced at them before your feet led you towards the open door.

Wordlessly, Fei turned her body to make room. Her gaze roamed over your body with fondness after your display of power. As soon as you left the room, her dry voice remarked, “I’d consider this a success.”

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[thebestusernamepossible]

You know I keep seeing interpretations of possible post-canon Loop integrating into the party. And like how they would interact with said party, but like I feel like there is one aspect of the dynamic people seem to miss out on- which is a shame because it’s one of the most interesting to me.

From the parties perspective Loop is a ‘star’ that Sif met when he was stuck in a Time-Loop. So that means the party is aware that Loop was also stuck in said time-loop. I want to see the party trying to figure out how to help and accommodate Loop’s Time-Loop trauma, because I know this would drive Loop insane. Like imagine alternate versions of the friends you’ve seen die over and over (who Loop definitely feels they’ve failed) and trying to accommodate you because they think you’re traumatised from a COMPLETELY SEPARATE time-loop. I’d simply go insane actually.

Not to mention Loop would probably grind the parties gears because they would act like they always know what’s best for Siffrin and the party in general. And like- yes they know Sif better than anyone, but from the parties perspective they’re someone who knew Sif for something equilvlant to like 7ish months at most. And they just stroll ina js act like they know what’s best for them, AND the party. And loop is condescending even when they don’t mean to be, so double whammy. But then again Loop and Sif (as far as the party know) we’re stuck in a time loop with only each other for that long. So Loop is now reluctantly the Siffrin expert, which would cause some jealousy from people who have been trying and only somewhat succeeding at getting Sif to open up. Because from their perspective Loop just gets all of Sifs secrets and gets to know everything about them, assumedly because Sif TOLD them everything. (Haha imagine Sif communicating). I think they’d be a bit jealous even if they felt bad about it.

Not to mention the miscommunication of it all- from the parties perspective they have a gap in their memories from a massive amount of time that only Siffrin and a (albeit helpful) stranger. The same stranger who both helped you save your friend, but seems to be in some kind of toxic situationship(?) with said friend, AND acts awkward as hell around you. There are so many conclusions to grab from that, and I don’t think that ‘completely separate Timeloop in an alternate dimension where stranger is also your friend’ is what they’ll come up with. Even smart gal Odile needs some actual information to draw a conclusion.

The most obvious conclusion would obviously be ‘Loop is a seprate person Siffrin grew close to due to the fact they were the only ones who remebered being in a timeloop’ and ‘Loop may have done something to/been wronged by the party in the Loops’.

Honestly you only need Loop referencing them not being a star in the past one time for the entire party to immediately conclude ‘holy shit, Loop also had some kind of wish gone wrong™️ that changed their entire body and made them be stuck to a tree woth only Sif for company for months’

Which isn’t WRONG per-say, but I just think we as a fandom should get more creative with Loop-Party assumptions when talking relationships.

Especially Loop-Isabeau, I want him assuming he said something really mean to them or something during a loop. The Situationship jealously I see a lot is fun too, but I think Isa trying very hard to be nice and make up for whatever he ‘did’ would make Loop have a fucking panick attack out of guilt. I just think Loop should be in the torcher nexus here.

Also! Loop-party strain! I think that the party would have mixed feelings in loop! Because they don’t know that’s Sif, so it’s just looks like to them that Loop so some stranger being unfair to Sif and what they went through (Loop screams). And since is inevitably going to be a bit mean to the party on account of being unwell, and teh fact they don’t really have the advantage of the party knowing and loving them previously. I think the initial relationships are strained, and honestly Loop is probably self sabotaging too. Testing boundaries to see how ‘unlovable’ they can be before they are thrown out. And while the party eventually grow to look past Loos hard edges and grow to love them, I think initially there is some fights and tension. Loop has the ammunition and almost wants to be proven right in their assumption they’re unlovable. But I think the party will realise that they are just like Sif was when they had THEIR metal break down and will see how Sif gets better and opens up (even if just being more expressive) with Loop around. So I think they’ll grow to like loop as their own person! But it takes time

Also Loop and Sif informing the party of each other individual triggers and keeping each other accountable (while also trying to work off being the most toxic co-dependant ass relationship ever)

[mlmarint]

so here’s my thoughts about the “daddy issues” thing with the whole anti tommy shit

you guys are such fucking hypocrites

i would be totally on board with someone bringing that it’s not okay to sexualize someone’s trauma if that was the case. but guess whaaaaaaat???? THATS NOT THE CASE. and it’s not “terrible dialogue” either, there’s so many scenes with terrible dialogue in this show, but some of you should really stop and ask yourselfs WHY you didn’t like this one.

if eddie was the one to make a comment like that some of you’d be OVER THE MOON. i’ve NEVER seen ANYONE in this fandom talk about how a LOT of the buddie explicit fanfics have a daddy kink on it. and before any more comments, i REALLY HATE buddie fics with daddy kink because it always reminds me of christopher and do NOT want to think about christopher in that moment.

“that’s not the problem. the problem is that once again buck it’s with someone who doesn’t care about his trauma” oh grow the fuck up.

tommy LITERALLY decided to not date buck because he thought buck wasn’t ready for it, he gave buck his space, he at first didn’t want to go to maddie and chimney wedding with buck because he thought buck was acting on impulse and wanted him to take his time to be okay with who he is, and after he was sure he tried his best to be on time to his date.

and also!!!! buck is a little “freak” in bed guys, he was a literal sex addict in season 1. every now and then the show reminds us this (like the ring cutter scene), also this is the second buck’s relationship with someone who’s like older than him. i wouldn’t be surprised if buck has a canon daddy kink because GUESS WHAAAAAT some people who have daddy issues??? THEY HAVE DADDY KINKS!!!!!

but you guys wanna know what i truly think?

i think that some of you (these tommy antis) are only here for buddie. you’re not here for the show, you’re here for buck and eddie. you’re not here for all these amazing characters!!! you’re not here for the fact that buck being a bisexual man discovering that side of him in his 30s its one of the most important things that happened in this show when we’re talking about lgbt+ characters and the importance of having something like that to be on media.

you’re not here for bi buck, you’re only here if this means that eddie will be with him. you’ll won’t be here if they decide to give a eddie queer discover story non related to buck on season 8 (and i truly think we’re going that way).

you only liked buck and tommy when you could sexualize two man kissing.

if you want to talk about something that is not okay that tommy did why don’t you rewatch the older episodes he’s in? he wasn’t a nice person back then and honestly i would like for them to bring that up!!! for them to show how a person can change and grow out of their prejudice and realize that they don’t need to be an ass and be okay with who they truly are. in fact why don’t we talk about how they hinted the fact that tommy didn’t like who he was when he was working with gerard? that he doesn’t like gerard and that he was a toxic person and that tommy grow up with a racist, homophobic and sexist dad???? that’s why he wasn’t a nice person back than but he’s different now and he’s a proud gay man and that once again that’s a nice thing to have on media because it shows how it’s NEVER too late to come in terms with who you are and change the way your are for better????

tommy isn’t perfect (and no one that he hurt before seems to actually care about it cause he did truly changed), but that doesn’t mean you need to cancel the guy FOR ONE SINGLE comment!!!! part of the 911 team made fun of buck for being sexually assaulted by his therapist but no one canceled them for it, did they?

honestly i am so fucking tired with fandoms in general.

at this point i hope we don’t get buddie being canon FOR A LONG TIME cause i want you guys to suffer with tommy and buck being in a happy relationship.

just remember: eddies it’s not canonical queer yet, there’s hints of it and they probably are going on that road with the whole thing they’re saying on interviews, BUT buck IS BISEXUAL and HE IS dating TOMMY you like it or not and it’s by far the most healthy relationship he EVER had in this show, can’t you be happy for him????

you can be a buddie shipper and still enjoy bucktommy because what we should truly want more than anything it’s buck and eddie to be happy with who they are.

and I SAY ALL THIS BEING A BUDDIE SHIPPER FOR YEARS

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Fandom: Night Hunter

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @enchantedbytomandhenry; You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope (not sure if I nailed it though), unprotected p-in-v, creampie, Daddy kink, male tackling female to subdue (if that squicks you, maybe skip this one-it is quick but described)

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist 

Oh, this is great. No, it’s perfect. Not only were you voluntold to work a weekend-long stakeout, but you’d also be paired with Detective Marshall. Yeah, that Detective Marshall. Walter. The asshole who you’ve been competing with for ‘top dog’ since before joining S.W.A.T. all those years ago. 

He was always just ahead of you. Ran a mile half a minute quicker. Got promoted a month sooner. To top it all off, he was tall and drop-dead gorgeous. And he had an ass you could bounce a quarter off.

Wait, hold on. When did that become something you even cared about? 

The way he cockily smiles at you as he exits his truck in the parking lot of the motel is enough to have you clench your thighs together. This should be a fun weekend. 

Friday night into Saturday morning is spent quietly using the listening devices to monitor our suspect. You both just…sit there, using your ears. Walter is usually quiet, sure. But what human doesn’t even accidentally use small talk to fill a quiet space?

During the day, you try and sleep in your separate room but it proves to be difficult. You toss and turn, grumbling to yourself after a couple of hours. Visions of Marshall’s chiseled jawline, beefy arms, and thick thighs are burned in your mind. You abandon all hope of sleeping, spending the rest of the day disassembling and cleaning your sidearm. It keeps your mind sharp and you genuinely enjoy the process.

It’s nearing seven and you’re just getting your things together to head over to the surveillance room when you get a knock at the door. You peek through the curtains and see Marshall as he leans on the doorframe.

You open the door and look expectantly at him. When he doesn’t answer and barges into the room past you, you pipe up, “Come on in, why don’t you?” You close the door behind you and watch as he looks around the room.

He notices your gun cleaning kit on the small wooden table by the window and looks back at you. “You didn’t sleep today. You look like shit.”

“Awesome. Thank you. What do you want?” you snap, already sick of his annoyingly perfect face.

“Go home and get some sleep,” he crosses his arms, standing in front of you, “Got the B team coming in to take over.”

“So, we’re both leaving? Or are you just dismissing me?” you questioned, crossing your own arms.

“Just you,” he deadpans, not feeling the need to explain himself further.

“Well, fuck that. I’m not leaving, so if you’ll excuse me,” you fumed, moving to reach for your sidearm on the table as he moves over, holding a hand out between the table and yourself.

“I can’t let you take that with so little sleep. It’s dangerous for both of us. Trust me, one slip up, and one of us is down,” he warns, holding his ground.

“Marshall, get out of my way. We have a job to do.”

“No, I have a job to do. You’re off the clock. Go home, kid,” he urged, holding his position.

“You’re gonna have to take me out of this mission by force, Marshall. Otherwise, I’m-”

You did not get to finish that sentence before Walter was taking you down on your stomach. A strong arm fully extended holding your left shoulder, while your right wrist is being restrained, would have been enough. But, this was Marshall after all and if he was anything, he was thorough. He straddles your hips, with just enough pressure to keep you down, but not enough to scratch a certain itch.

“I didn’t wanna have to do that,” Walter breathes, winded slightly from the takedown, “but you gave me no choice.” 

“Marshall, get the fuck off of me,” you growl, trying to buck him off.

“Yeah, kid, that’s not happening,” he spits, hooking his ankles over your thighs, “You’re lucky I don’t cuff you to keep you down.”

“So, what? You just looking for a reason to get me to obey you?” you challenge, struggling under his weight.

“As if you needed an excuse,” he laughs, straightening himself above you.

“Please! If you honestly think-”

“Give it a rest, I can smell your arousal from here,” he teased, lowering his hips a fraction and watching your squirm, “And before you say it’s not because of me, why couldn’t I smell it until after I had taken you down?”

“Fuck you, Marshall,” you scoff, trying to hold some semblance of control.

“Yeah, maybe if you did, you could get some fucking sleep,” he offers, his left hand moving from your shoulder down your arm, “But here you are, stubborn as hell.”

You lick your lips, considering his words. You wanted to get some release. You also wanted to sleep. 

Fuck it.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he queries, slowly starting to release your arms.

“I’m exhausted and I’m horny. But you’re doing all of the work, Marshall,” you say, lifting your hips to meet his crotch.

“That’s a good girl,” he hummed, releasing your arms before leaning up and off of you. You start to raise yourself before you are lifted and all but thrown on the bed and told to strip. Watching as his layers are quickly being shed, you all but rip away your clothing. 

Once fully naked, you look at Marshall where he stands watching you. Cock in hand, he pumps his massive length slowly while his eyes rake over you. “Tell me what you need,” he coaxed, his voice lower by at least an octave.

“Hurry the fuck up and put me to bed, Marshall, before I change my mind,” you threaten, your body thrumming under his gaze.

“You can change your mind at any time, you just say the word and this is over, yeah?” he informs, eyes connecting with yours.

“Heard,” you chime in, opening your legs for him. 

He kneels on the bed between your legs, reaching down to collect some of your wetness that glistens in the low light of the motel room. He lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers before plunging them inside you. “Fuck, girl, you are so wet for me. So fucking hot,” he moans, squelching sounds filling the room as he massages your inner bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Daddy!” you squealed, completely out of your control.

“That’s it, girl, cum for me,” he goaded, his thumb moving to play with your swollen button.

It doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar tightening in your core, and Marshall must be the World’s Greatest Detective™ because he is pulling out his fingers and thrusting his cock inside your wet heat. Fucking you through your orgasm, your tight walls fluttering around him causing him to groan loudly.

“That’s one, let’s see if we can’t get you another, yeah?” he teases, melding your chests together as he wraps his arms around your center. From this angle, he can stimulate your clit while stroking deeply. And he does so at a punishing pace, his teeth nipping and kissing your neck. “Fuck, we shoulda done this years ago, girl. This pussy is fucking made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mewl, that time was completely on purpose.

Marshall leans up, leaving one arm around you while the other hand goes to your hair, baring your neck. “Who’s pussy is this, girl?” he challenges, even though he already knows.

“It’s yours, Daddy,” you whine, legs wrapping around his hips.

“That’s fucking right, it’s mine,” he praised, hips pistoning into you, “And I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else. You’re mine, girl.”

His growled claim of you paired with the way he fucks into you has your legs trembling around him instantly, your second orgasm of the night flowing through you.

“Hmmm, that’s my girl, taking Daddy’s cock so well,” he groans, the sound vibrating through the both of you. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you moan, squeezing your thighs around Marshall, “I love your fucking cock.”

“That’s right you love this cock,” he growls, pulling out and manhandling you onto all fours, “Put Daddy’s cock back in, girl.”

You reach back and line him up, pushing back to impale yourself before moaning out at the angle change. Marshall grips your hips, plowing into you, no doubt chasing his own release now.

“Fucking cum inside me, Daddy,” you whimper, loving the sounds coming from your sodden cunt as it is pounded.

“I’m gonna breed this perfect pussy,” he grunts, hips stuttering until he pushes in as deep as can, cock twitching and painting your insides so full that it starts to leak past your entrance. He pulls out slightly before starting to fuck his cum back inside you. The sensation alone has your pussy quivering around him for the third time before you fall forward on your front.

Marshall laughs as he gets up from the bed, going to the en suite bathroom. You can hear him taking a piss and you know that you should as well to combat any chance of a UTI. But your legs aren’t listening yet so fuck that idea. 

Your eyes are already closed when you feel a wet warmth between your legs as Marshall is wiping down your swollen sex gently before you snuggle into the comforter being wrapped around you. A kiss is placed on your temple and soon you hear the rustling of clothes being put back on.

The sound of your motel room door opening and closing barely registers as you fall asleep.

It is sometime later in the evening and you check your phone on the nightstand as it reads 12:12 AM. No need to make a wish. 

You take a quick shower and get dressed before heading over to the surveillance room. You are stopped outside of the room by a uniformed officer. “Detective Marshall asked me to keep you out. And he wanted me to give you this. That’s all I know, Ma’am.” The officer hands over a note and you step away and read it.

Hey,

I was serious about you getting some sleep. 

Get that ass back to bed.

Daddy will see you soon, girl.

Sweet dreams xx

A/N: So, like I don’t know how I feel about how I wrote Walter here. This is not MY Walter, but I quite enjoyed this version of him.

**Tag List**

@astheskycries 

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz! 😁

[sophsicle]

Soph I love you but Taylor Swift does not “make herself the victim” there’s so much valid shit that has happened to her for us to feel that way about her, which most of her fans honestly don’t even see her as - granted there as some obnoxious ones but that goes for all fandoms.

Like for example of the experiences I was talking about.

- being sexually assaulted and then being called “greedy” for suing the guy.

- being painted as a “snake” because she didn’t react well to someone writing a misogynistic song about it. Which I feel like is a valid reaction as a woman in entertainment.

- being groomed at 19 by a 30+ something year old.

- getting called a snake worldwide for a narrative that 2 people - who were more famous than her at the time invented.

- being bodyshamed constantly when she had an eating disorder

Yes she’s privileged and has always been, coming from money and having fame, but she does not portray herself as the “victim” and the fact that people think she does just for standing up for herself makes me sad, not because of her but because being a woman myself it just paints the picture that women’s pain or experiences will always be brushed under the rug because we’re classified as “dramatic” and “we should take it with more grace” “be thankful about the good things” like??

I understand that you don’t like her but that assessment just seems wrong.

like i just. you realize you're proving my point right? like this - not just this message, but all of the ones i've gotten where people are waxing poetic about all of the struggles taylor swift has had and how she is absolutely a victim and how dare i suggest otherwise - is exactly what i'm talking about. you feel the need to jump down the throat of anyone who says anything remotely negative about her. this is the whole "victim" narrative, that she is vulnerable and must be protected and defended from all negativity at all times at all costs.

and like. that is on purpose. she has cultivated that narrative for this reason. so that publications are now afraid to post reviews of her albums with bylines because their journalists are getting death threats if they criticize her.

i am not suggesting that taylor swift has never had anything bad ever happen to her. that would be insane. i am trying to say that this culture that has been cultivated within her fanbase of defending and protecting her, is extreme and irrational. and when you don't buy into it, it makes a lot of the content surrounding taylor swift very hard to swallow.

[musicalmoritz]

Good Femslash Fics Already Exist

With the whole push for more femslash in fandoms, I’ve never understood the amount of hate I see femslash “fans” direct towards existing creations. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more variety, I do too, but every time someone brings up the fact that femslash fan fictions are already being written someone opens their mouth to say “yeah but those suck.” And then they proceed to read 300+ atrociously mischaracterized mlm fics. They complain abt plotless fluff and then read the exact same pwp scenarios over and over again

And hey, if you don’t want to read femslash that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend it interests you. I’m someone who actively looks for femslash and my only problem has been a lack of content in smaller/male-dominated fandoms, the fics themselves are cute af. Ya’ll are missing out on some real masterpieces by labeling all existing femslash fics as “boring,” some of my favorite fics ever are femslash. If an mlm ship invades the tags just filter it out, filter out every mlm pairing in the fandom if you have to. AO3 gives us that option for a reason

I’m not saying we don’t need more variety, but we’re not going to get that by shitting on writers who actively put in the work to make more femslash. When I started writing femslash consistently it was very discouraging because I’d seen soooooo many people online saying they want more femslash fics, yet nobody was reading mine. Then I looked at the stats on other femslash fics and they were the same, really great fics were barely getting any hits or kudos. It kinda sucks knowing that an mlm fic I wrote in 3 hours got more kudos than a wlw fic I spent months on (for pairings of relatively equal popularity). This seems to be the biggest roadblock for people wanting to write femslash, no one supports it. Even tho fandoms claim they would support it, they never do. It’s something I’ve learned to stop caring about but not every writer is gonna push through

This brings me back to a comment I saw about “boring, hair-braidy wlw fics.” That description really stood out to me, and to this day it makes me feel a little self-conscious about my old femslash fics that were “boring” and “hair-braidy.” But then I came across a fic for this one pairing that had actual hair-braiding. It was incredibly well-written and meaningful, exploring how both characters struggled to ask for help but they were able to recognize each other’s dilemmas and help in subtle ways. They did this, of course, by fixing each other’s hair when they both felt helpless to do anything with it. Such a simple way to express a very deep bond. This made me reassess the way people talk about femslash fics, and the way I’d been thinking of them myself. Is fluff really that much of a crime?? Do all cottagecore-type fics really have no substance?? Do femslash fics have to copy exactly what slash fics are doing, or are they allowed to have their own tropes??

My attitude towards the overload of plotless fluff wlw fics is “this is a good starting point.” We need more people writing femslash, more variety in what is written, but that doesn’t mean what we have is bad. I critique wlw fic tropes a lot but I always give the disclaimer that I actually love the fics themselves, I just want to see more of a different thing. And I comment on every femslash fic I read (every fic I read in general but especially femslash), I try to leave something thoughtful to let the writer know I appreciate the effort they put into their work. You’d be surprised how many writers said they were encouraged to update a fic or write more femslash because of a positive comment I left them. Engaging with fics will give you more of a good thing. It has so much more influence than that video you’re about to make talking about how there’s no good femslash fics. When you say things like that it actually discourages people from writing, and makes them feel bad about things they’ve already written. Support femslash writers guys, it’s sexy

[forasecondtherewedwon]

get ya thinkin' (that you need me)

Fandom: Twisters Rating: T Word Count: 6028

Summary: Kate, Javi, Tyler, Lily, Dexter, Dani, and Boone—they're all one crew now, and they need funding. Trying to look more responsible on a grant application, they come up with an unconventional solution: two of them should get married. But which two? Javi and Tyler prompt Kate to consider what her friendships could become.

“I know it was me,” Tyler prefaces. “I know I’m the one who said our crew didn’t need PhDs, but…”

“But it might be nice to have one right about now?” Lily guesses.

There’s a collective sigh as they all stare at the screen together. Javi, controlling the touchpad, scrolls down and back up again, like the words might have changed, like this grant application isn’t punishingly particular and hopelessly intimidating.

“If we type it up in the wrong font it gets rejected?” Lily checks, jabbing a finger at the line she picks out of the blur.

Boone shifts and turns to Kate. “You’re doing your PhD, right? How soon you gonna be done?”

Kate gives him a look that asks if he’s shitting her. “Not by next Monday, which is when this application’s due.”

“Fuck,” Javi groans, rubbing his forehead.

“Well, hey, you gotta be good at this kinda thing, Storm Par,” Tyler reasons. “Your old crew had money comin’ out its eyeballs.”

“That was from investors. Highly unethical investors,” he clarifies, with a glance at Kate, who frowns sympathetically. “Private money. We never held a government grant.”

“We need more time,” Kate declares, like just saying that could possibly extend the deadline.

She shoves herself up and away from the motel bed they’re all gathered on the end of. If any of them were responsible adults, they’d be able to admit that they don’t need the deadline to be later, they need to have started working on this sooner. A lot sooner. The trouble is, they’re the furthest thing possible from responsible—at least, not in any way a government grant application would define the term (and, Jesus, does this application ever love defining terms—Definition of Terms is a whole section of the instructions, right at the top). They’re storm-chasers, risk-takers, and no, no one has yet seen fit to bestow upon them large amounts of money to fund their research, so it’s tough to prove they’re a safe bet, a good call, a fast horse.

“The only aspect we may be able to exploit,” Dexter pipes up, “is format.”

“It’s all online, I thought,” Dani says, seated beside him.

“Most of it is, but… could you scroll back up?” he requests of Javi. “Right… there. In the research proposal section, there’s an option for delivery method.”

“Thirty minutes or it’s free?” Boone quips.

Lily rolls her eyes at him.

“No,” Kate says, pacing. “No, it means we might have a better chance if we submit an audio recording of us explaining our research, maybe Javi talking through the data to make the significance really clear. Or we make a slideshow, or film a video.” She pauses to smile. “You guys would be great at that. The point is—”

“The point is,” Tyler picks up, meeting her eyes, “we could convince them on our own terms. No PhD necessary.”

“Though we’d still have to seem stable,” Kate stresses. Everyone nods back at her. “Professional.”

“Who says we’re not professional?” Javi demands.

“Do I need to bring up the pants thing?”

“…No.”

“Everybody in this room knows their shit,” Tyler says.

“Right,” Dani says slowly, “but you can’t say we aren’t… slightly erratic. Not that it’s a bad thing, for what we do. But Kate did say ‘stable.’”

“To be clear,” Kate says, “I’m not telling anybody to quit driving like a total jackass, or making up catchphrases that promote reckless behaviour—”

“Or shooting fireworks into a tornado,” Javi contributes.

“These non-criticisms feel oddly specific,” Tyler says tightly.

“Our roster’s not even stable,” Lily points out. She folds her legs on top of the bland coverlet and the mattress’s springs shriek. “Kate’s only been part of the crew a couple days longer than Javi, and that hasn’t been very long.”

“That is a valid point,” Dexter says.

Kate sighs. “It is. So, I’m asking honestly,” she finishes. “What can we do, by next Monday, to convince some government committee”—she slaps the back of one hand into the palm of the other as she lists criteria—“we are sane, we are stable, we are going to go the distance with this research?”

Into the silence that follows, Javi says, “We could get married.”

There’s another second of absolute quiet before Tyler asks, “Was that an open proposal, or is there a happy couple you had in mind?”

What Kate thinks they’ve probably all been enjoying about the new (or just newly expanded) crew is the lack of awkwardness. Javi’s Storm Par crew was rife with it. While having zero members with a PhD is sometimes a challenge, Kate saw how too many PhDs could be even worse; there was a hierarchy amongst those guys, and if anyone dared offer a suggestion, the rest of them would throw sidelong glances at one another. Kate figured a few of them could straight-up go to hell (particularly Scott), but she still doesn’t know how Javi stood it.

But even that awkwardness was clearly power-based. Javi’s suggestion is different, more personal, and definitely more awkward.

The vibe in the motel room is immediately screwed up. Some people look like they want to laugh, others are frowning in contemplation, and Javi’s just blushing, not looking anyone in the eye. Still, because he’s Javi, he doesn’t chicken out. He tries to make his case.

“You guys heard of Jo Harding?”

“Fuck yeah, I’ve heard of Jo Harding,” Dani announces. “Who in the tornado game hasn’t?”

“Well, she’s an Oklahoma girl, so I was just checking.” Javi shrugs. “Her husband was her partner when she chased.”

“Yeah, but she had a whole crew,” Boone says.

“Yeah, but she also had a husband.”

“Stop mansplaining Jo Harding,” Lily complains, flinging herself backwards on the bed.

“It’s not like having a husband made her a good scientist, or a good storm-chaser,” Dani says.

“I’m not saying that!” Javi protests.

“Yeah, dude, Jo’s husband isn’t the most interesting thing about her,” Boone adds.

“I can’t believe we’ve now spent more time talking about Jo Harding’s husband than Jo Harding,” Lily groans.

“They won the grant!” Javi bursts out. “They won the fucking grant!”

Tyler, who’s mostly just been observing the crew with amusement up to this point, looks at Javi and cocks an eyebrow. “This grant?”

“Yes! This grant! I’m just trying to say they’re a powerful team. Formidable. I’ve read, like, every article ever done on them—”

“Woah, woah, woah. You have? That’s intense.”

Kate glances at Tyler and explains, “He had a crush.”

“Sounds more like an obsession.”

“I admired their work,” Javi says defensively.

“Oh, is that what you were admiring in that one article where you cut across the text and just kept the photo of Jo?” Kate checks, smirking.

“What have I done to you, Kate? Goddamn.”

“Finish your point,” she prompts.

Javi sighs and braces his hands behind him, leaning back carefully so the laptop doesn’t slide from his lap.

“They always talk about how they make each other better. Not that the other person is why they’re good at their job in the first place,” he clarifies, shooting glances at Lily, Boone, and Dani, “but that they look out for each other, stop each other from making stupid decisions, keep each other safe. And yeah, a crew can do that too. A good crew. But a married couple just sells devotion and, and conviction in a different way. All I’m saying is it’s something to try.”

“It’s not an unreasonable proposition,” Dexter allows when it’s clear that Javi’s done. Dexter’s calm, steady voice giving the idea his tentative approval strengthens its merit for everyone in the room. Kate can see it. She exhales.

“Alright,” she says. “Well, we don’t have a lot of time to mull this over before the deadline, but let’s give Javi’s suggestion some thought. And any other ideas you guys come up with. Maybe reconvene on this tomorrow?”

There are nods and murmurs of approval.

The room they’re in is Lily and Dani’s, so the crewmembers not hanging around to chill file out onto the sidewalk that lines the motel. Kate’s just thinking about going back to her own room—well, hers and Javi’s, with matching twin beds in baby-blue coverlets that make her think of the Shining twins—and getting some sleep. They chased yesterday, then stayed up late last night going over the data. They’ve all been eating at weird hours, and now with the stress of the grant application… Kate runs a hand over her face. She can hear Javi and Tyler talking behind her, but she doesn’t think anything of it until she’s unlocked the motel room door and Tyler follows her and Javi inside.

“We need to talk,” Tyler states the second the door’s closed.

“‘We could get married,’” Kate quotes. (Sarcastically, but yeah, she’s beat.) “‘We need to talk.’ You’re both so dramatic today.”

“That’s what we need to talk about,” Tyler says, ignoring her sarcasm.

“What?”

“Getting married.”

Kate gives him a slow blink.

“We just did,” she says. “That’s what that conversation was.” She points in the direction of the other motel room.

“But we need to decide,” Javi says.

“We will. Everyone needs some time to think.”

“No, they don’t,” Tyler says.

“Uh, yes, they do. If they’d either thought it was the best solution or a total flop, they would’ve said right after Javi explained.”

“I know our crew better than you do, Sapulpa—just a fact. Trust me, they had an opinion.”

“Then how come nobody said anything?” Kate asks skeptically.

“Because it isn’t about them,” Javi says.

“What? Of course it is! The grant is for the team. We can put it towards a new drone for Lily and get Boone some more—”

“Not the grant. The marriage.”

“The marriage would be for the grant.” Kate has a bad feeling that she’s started talking to Javi like he’s an idiot, but she’s seriously just not getting it. Why isn’t he just saying what he means? She’s tired.

Tyler laughs. He laughs! She stares at him.

“Come on,” he says, “you have to know why they all clammed up.”

Kate looks to Javi. Javi, the guy she basically ghosted until he showed up at her workplace to drag her back here. Javi, who’s still her best friend, no matter what. Javi, who she really needs to make sense right now.

“They didn’t ask any questions,” Javi says gently.

“Most importantly,” Tyler cuts in, “nobody asked who this hypothetical marriage would be between. You catch that?”

“That’s just because we need to decide whether or not we’re doing it first,” Kate says, crossing her arms.

“You really think that’s why? And not that it’s because of the way Storm Par here looks at you, or the fact that he’s the one who suggested getting hitched? It’s not just a grant application, Kate. There are other stakes here.”

Kate flushes lightly, and when she chances a look at Javi, he is too. Tyler’s not exactly wrong, but he isn’t quite right either; she and Javi go back a long way. They care about one another—which is natural, especially after what they survived. Kate would also be lying if she tried to tell Tyler she hasn’t noticed those looks of Javi’s, that she’s blind to the way his steady brown eyes linger on her when she speaks, find her when she’s still, working out the math for their next planned chase. She doesn’t hate it, that way he has of looking at her.

Javi temporarily saves her from responding. Once he’s made his point, she’s not entirely grateful.

"Me?" he says to Tyler. “Those guys aren’t keeping their opinions to themselves because of some obvious claim I was staking on Kate. I’m subtle.”

The remark is so pointed that it’s no wonder Tyler reacts to it, even as Kate has a private, silent panic.

“I never staked a claim on Kate,” Tyler assures him.

“Sure you did,” Javi argues. “You stayed at her house. You met her mom. You basically poached her from Storm Par.”

“I didn’t need to poach her. She came willingly. And I bet you’ve stayed at her house and met her mom! You’ve known each other, what? Forever? That about right?”

“Well, what about you two?” Kate interrupts, gesturing between the men. “Old rivals, new allies. Some unresolved tension from chasing the same storms, maybe? How do you know the crew weren’t picturing you at the altar?”

While this seems to genuinely bewilder Javi, Tyler hitches his jeans and shrugs. “Wouldn’t be my first rodeo.”

“I just don’t think anybody’s thinking anything.”

“They might not all be thinking the same thing,” Tyler allows her, “but they’re all thinkin’ something. The two people getting married to give us a shot at this grant are standing in this room right now. I guarantee it.”

The three of them eye each other.

“If there’s going to be a marriage,” Javi says.

“Oh, there is,” Tyler says. “You made too good a case for it. Whole lotta money on the line. Seems too logical not to try.”

“Nothing about this is logical,” Kate decides, and goes to brush her teeth in the tiny bathroom.

When she comes back out, Tyler’s gone. She cedes the bathroom to Javi so he can get ready for bed too. They exchange a look as he passes her, but she waves him on, pats his shoulder as he passes. They can talk when he’s ready. Well, maybe not ready, but ready for bed. She goes to her squeaky twin and sits down to wait.

“It’s insane,” Kate says a little later.

They’re lying down, facing each other across the divide between their narrow beds. There’s an old movie playing on the perhaps equally old TV that sits against the opposite wall; they’ve turned the sound way down. The screen’s glow provides the only light. Kate thumps her pillow for emphasis rather than elaborating. She just doesn’t have anything smart left to say on this topic.

“It’s also not,” Javi counters. He’s run out of more sophisticated arguments too.

“So, two of us are really going to get married?”

“Hey, we do crazier shit literally every day. And it’s not, like, real. Whether or not it helps us get the grant, the marriage can be annulled, or they can get divorced, or whatever. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Kate laughs, and then Javi laughs too. She likes watching him laugh; his smile hangs on for such a long time after he stops. It’s sweet.

“Who do you think it should be?” she wonders.

“I mean, I would do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I suggested it, right? Gotta put my… I don’t know, my vows where my mouth is.”

“So rational,” Kate notes, sort of joking, though she does also admire Javi’s pragmatism. He’s thinking of the crew, how to look out for them, both by securing this grant and by sparing them the need to enter into this plan which is—regardless of what he says—a little insane. When she thinks of it that way… “I guess I would too.”

“You would get married?”

“Why not? Since it has to be somebody. You’re my best friend, anyway,” she says, sending him a soft smile. “It wouldn’t be like marrying a stranger. Besides, nothing would really change.”

“You don’t think so?” Javi asks earnestly. Which is not the easiest question to answer. But Javi has more to say before he’ll let her try. “You know… I mean, I told you…”

“That you would’ve done anything for me, back then,” Kate fills in. She sees Javi nod against his pillow. She exhales slowly. “Yeah. I didn’t really pick up on that. I just thought we were friends.”

“We were friends. We are. I just felt a little more for you than that. Not that I ever would’ve done anything. You and Jeb were great together. I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to try to come between you, and I didn’t want to. I just sort of quietly…” Javi grins like he can’t help it. “…had this thing for you.”

Kate returns his grin, amused because it’s easier to feel amused than to feel sad. She wants to be able to talk about Jeb, hasn’t let herself in so long, putting herself more than a thousand miles away from anyone else who knew him. Now, it feels so good to hear Jeb’s name in the mouth of somebody who cared about him too. With Javi, Jeb will never be forgotten. Kate will never lose the opportunity to talk about Jeb, to reminisce. Javi will be as respectful now as he apparently was then, keeping his own wants reined in so Jeb and Kate could be happy with each other. Who should she—should either of them—allow to make her happy now? With his caring, trusting eyes trained on her as the light from the TV flashes and shifts, Javi seems like a pretty good choice.

“It’d be more than practical for you,” she acknowledges.

“It would.” Javi sighs. “I thought you’d better have all the facts.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And now you can admit it,” he prompts.

“What?”

“That you got the hots for me too.”

They share another laugh. But Kate can only laugh so long as a reaction to his teasing tone, because, yeah, she kind of has started to think of him in that way since being back here in Oklahoma. She’s been trying to wait it out a little. Part of that’s fear; Jeb was her last serious attachment. She hasn’t been able to love somebody like that again (she hasn’t even really tried to date), too scared that something awful will happen. With Javi, it’s a real possibility that he could meet Jeb’s exact same fate, and there’s no place in the whole world Kate could move to that could get her far enough away from here if that happened.

The other reason she’s waited is that coming back, coming home, has provoked a swirling mess of feelings in her—an emotional tornado, if she’s honest, and it has taken honesty to let herself be hit by the force of those feelings instead of retreating to the mental bunker where she’s spent the last five years. Those winds are still calming. In the meantime, Kate hasn’t wanted to confuse the feeling of being home with a desire to be more than friends with Javi.

“Not then,” he says kindly, when she doesn’t reply right away. “I know you didn’t then.”

“Coming back,” Kate starts, her gaze drifting, “hasn’t been totally what I thought it would be. I’d be lying if I said you weren’t part of that. You’re the same as you were then, but different too. I’d never seen you lead a team before.”

“You surprised those guys listened to me?”

“No, I guess I just wasn’t expecting the way you made room for me. I saw that you were still on my side…

“I always have been.”

“I know,” she promises, meeting his eye. “And you trusted me again, immediately—”

“No reason not to,” Javi says easily.

“There were reasons not to,” she insists. Does she need to remind him of their first chase after she arrived? How she panicked? How she was the reason they didn’t get the third scanner set up and so couldn’t collect data that day? “But you vouched for me. Last time, with our team, you trusted me because I was the head of the project. It felt like you trusted me just as fully this time, even though it meant committing all those other people and all your resources.”

She’s surprised, while she’s being this sincere, that Javi laughs at her.

“I never trusted you just because you were the head of the project,” he explains. “I trusted you because you were you. You’re still you. You’re so you that Tyler’s ready to marry you too, and you’ve known each other less than a month.”

Kate makes a dismissive sound.

“You know there’s something between you,” Javi says. “That man is crazy about you.”

“I think he might just be crazy. It’s well-documented on the internet.”

“He’s always close to you.”

“So are you.”

“Exactly,” Javi agrees. “So I can speak to his motives.”

“We survived an EF4 together. He sheltered me with his body in the bottom of a swimming pool. Maybe we just shared an intense, near-death experience.”

“Is that all?”

Kate deflates.

“No. He is pretty hot.”

“That’s what I thought,” Javi says triumphantly.

There’s more to it than that, but Javi can obviously tell that already, so it doesn’t seem worth saying. Kate folds her pillow in half so she can sit up a little higher.

“Well, can we talk about the look on your face?”

“When?”

“‘Wouldn’t be my first rodeo,’” Kate quotes, badly mimicking Tyler’s voice.

“As if he meant anything by that.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s Tyler Owens! He just says shit for dramatic effect!”

Kate crosses her arms and stares at her friend with amusement.

“Probably!” Javi adds weakly.

“I could see you two married. Fake-married.”

“He is good at what he does,” Javi concedes, “when he’s not being a total jackass.”

“Is that all?” she teases.

She hears Javi’s deep sigh.

“I’ve watched a few of his YouTube videos,” Javi confesses. “He takes off his shirt sometimes.”

Kate sinks back down into bed after that. At some point, half-asleep, she hears Javi get up to use the bathroom. He switches off the TV on his way past, and the light quits flickering across Kate’s closed eyelids.

—

They aren’t chasing the next day, so they decide to stay in town for breakfast at the little diner. Because they’re together so much—hunched over the same screens, crammed into the same vehicles, bunked in the same motel rooms—it isn’t unusual for them to not eat together. Four of them practically feels like a family reunion, but Kate’s glad of the company. She, Javi, Tyler, and Boone grab a booth and flap open their cracked plastic menus.

Javi, seated opposite her and next to Boone, keeps looking at her. Kate can feel it without returning his gaze. When she relents and looks back at him while they’re eating, she sees (as she suspected she would) that he isn’t making eyes at her over his pancakes—he’s watching her with Tyler. She makes a face at Javi. There’s nothing to see! Tyler might be sitting beside her, but he’s intent on dipping his bacon into the yolks of his eggs, laughing across the table at something Boone’s telling him he captured in recent footage of the crew goofing around. Tyler and Kate aren’t looking at one another. They aren’t even touching. Yeah, maybe she can feel the heat of him because their thighs are almost close enough to touch on the seat, but it doesn’t mean any more today that it did yesterday. Javi’s just trying to make it weird, because of their conversation last night.

I could make it weird too, she threatens with her eyes. That makes Javi smile and go back to his pancakes.

After they’ve finished though, when Boone and Javi get into a discussion that quickly becomes so focused that it shuts out the other side of the table, Tyler nudges Kate’s arm with his elbow and jerks his head towards the door.

Outside, Kate takes a breath that doesn’t feel deep enough. It’s dry today. A field borders one side of the diner parking lot, and the wheat rustles crisply. Taking it all in is second nature, requires no thought at all. There’s the windspeed she can guess at when a breeze strokes across her arm; there’s wind direction, determined when a slightly stronger gush sweeps a strand of hair loose from her ponytail; she judges the atmospheric pressure with her sinuses; and she gathers all of this without even looking at the sky. When she does, it’s cloudless, flat as a blue tablecloth.

She looks at Tyler. He’s studying her.

“Just trying to pick up some tips,” he says, before she can say anything.

“And? What’ve you learned?”

Tyler just smiles mysteriously.

“You guys talk last night?”

“Me and Javi?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure,” Kate says. She knows it’s a vague answer, but Tyler will be bold enough to ask for the information he really wants. She’d bet on it.

She turns to face him fully, crosses her arms expectantly.

“Did you decide anything?” Tyler asks. He has his cowboy hat on, but the morning light slants low, making him squint when he looks at her. She circles him a little so he’s not staring into the sun.

“It shouldn’t really be a unilateral decision, should it?”

“Typically, yeah, it is just one person who decides to propose.”

“This isn’t about just one person,” Kate reminds him. “It’s about the crew.”

“I’m aware.”

“Well…”

“Well. Are you guys waiting on a group vote then?” he inquires facetiously.

“I didn’t say Javi and I agreed to get married,” she says, frowning.

“You didn’t say you didn’t either.”

She sighs at how frustrating Tyler’s being. He shifts his feet, making the gravel crunch under his boots. There’s a grit to him too—in how he only seems like he’s going along with this but obviously has something he feels he still has to say, something he hasn’t yet given up on. But Kate has a hard time with waiting. She likes making decisions quickly. Somehow, this—the prospect of marriage—is an exception. More complicated than it should be, if it’s just about securing the funding.

(It’s not. She knows it’s not, especially after talking to Javi last night.)

“I’m better at running,” Kate says quickly. “Lately.”

“What?”

“Than chasing.” She offers a weak shrug, not sure what to do with herself, with her body. Tyler’s so solid, standing here in front of her. So steady in his eyes.

“Do you wanna chase me?” He doesn’t sound surprised, exactly, but his words are less than a challenge.

“Seems like it’s my turn. You followed me to New York and all.”

“I didn’t follow you. Your flight got delayed and I had time to buy a ticket. I went with you.”

It’s true, he did. First, they waited out the delay together. The weather didn’t turn into what it might’ve, so it was only an extra hour. Tyler had time to call Boone about coming to get the truck, and Kate had time to call Javi about the storm warning. Javi hadn’t left the airport yet. Initially, he came inside. A tornado was about the only thing that could excuse there now being two trucks parked in the Drop-off Only zone outside. (That poor man.) They sat together in the chairs by the check-in desk, Kate and Tyler on either side of Javi as the three of them studied the weather data on his laptop, the hard-edged coloured shapes that scudded across dark county lines. As soon as they knew it was nothing, Javi said he’d drive back to get Boone himself, then bring him to the airport to collect the truck. Tyler said he didn’t have to. When Javi insisted, Tyler gave way. That surprised all of them. It was maybe the start of the new team.

In New York, Kate let Tyler come to work with her. Her coworkers were the weather-geek demographic Tyler appeared to have never even dreamed of; many of them were familiar with his YouTube channel. One of them asked if Dani was single. Kate grinned as she stood back and watched Tyler lean into his persona for the fans, into his accent—just the same as she had leaned away from her accent when she moved up here, not wanting questions about where she was from. Not wanting to think too often of home. She stood and watched, and then she went to her boss’s office and quit with as much grace as she could manage after taking a week off on almost no notice. Tyler urged the whole place into his trademark call and response on their way out the door.

“That’ll numb any hard feelings for a while,” he assured her as they took the elevator down to the lobby.

“What hard feelings?”

Tyler frowned at her.

“About losing you. They’re gonna miss the hell outta you, Sapulpa.”

“Too bad,” she said. She didn’t think it was true.

“Too bad is right. You belong to the South, and we’re takin’ you back.”

She wouldn’t let him help her pack up her apartment. What had once seemed fresh to her—the white walls and clean lines of starting over—now seemed barren and sad. She found she was glad to leave it. She didn’t want Tyler to see.

He spent his time in other ways. Took a ferry out to Liberty Island. Ate pizza in Brooklyn, pastrami on the Lower East Side. He got up to the Bronx to watch a baseball game at Yankee Stadium. Kate didn’t know how he managed it all. They were in New York for three and a half days. Tyler just beamed and told her his feet were killing him. He still helped her carry all her boxes down the stairs of her walk-up while the train rattled by.

They drove back to Oklahoma in a rental truck. Somehow, Tyler made it take four days, when they probably could’ve done it in two. He bought her an ice cream in St. Louis, laughed as it melted so fast that it ran down her hand.

She guesses this, now, standing in a diner parking lot, is overdue. Even though, like Javi said, she and Tyler have known each other less than a month. It doesn’t feel like it.

“What about you and Javi?” she asks bluntly.

“That could be fun,” Tyler allows. “There are a few more buttons there I wouldn’t mind pushing. Think he’d go for ‘Javi Owens’?”

A laugh bursts from Kate.

“I think you’d be taking your life in your hands if you asked him.”

When Tyler smiles at her, pleased but gentle, she gets it. She got it from them both: they’d get married for the application, probably even find it a lark, but it wouldn’t mean much more than that. There’d be less danger in it. That should be a good thing—a reason for Tyler and Javi to be the ones—but Kate knows it’s also the thing that’s making them all hold their breath. They’re used to this type of crossroad, the three of them, used to tilting their faces to the sky to check the conditions. In the end, they’ll always pick the road that leads them into danger, not away from it.

They both want Kate.

“You don’t have to chase me just because you think you should,” Tyler says sternly. “You don’t have to chase me at all.” His face softens. “I’m standing still.”

She laughs and, incredulous, asks, “Since when?”

“You,” he says simply. “I like Javi, Kate. I do.” But I want it to be me, his eyes say when his mouth stops.

“Yeah.” She knows. She can see that he does.

She and Tyler leave it there, because Boone and Javi are coming out of the diner now. They came in two vehicles and Kate goes with Javi because she knows he’ll let her think.

It’s officially not about the grant anymore. It’s not even about getting married. This is bigger and smaller than that. Kate puts the passenger-side window of Javi’s truck down (an older truck, no Storm Par logo) and leans into the onrush of air. The marriage would be strategic, but a relationship with either Tyler or Javi would be completely real. Real feelings, real expectations, real mess if it fell apart and they kept working together. Which they would; they all love this job too much.

For just a second, Kate shuts her eyes and wishes this wasn’t happening to her. Then she feels silly because, after Jeb, ever falling for another human being seemed astronomically unlikely. She stuck to storms. Had crushes on cloud formations. Made lovesick eyes at the sky when it turned a spooky shade of green. That Javi and Tyler are both ready to be with her seems like a miracle. She’s grateful. She just doesn’t know how to choose.

Javi leaves her alone for the entirety of the short drive. They pull into the motel lot behind Tyler and Boone and drive to the end where the doors of the crew’s motel rooms stand in a line. Dexter, Dani, and Lily are there as they pull in. They’re excited about something; Lily’s practically dancing on the sidewalk and Dani says something to Boone that makes him yank her into a hug.

Kate and Javi spill out of his truck.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

Lily springs towards her, raising her hand to show off a ring that’s slightly too big, slipping up and down her finger as Kate tries to look. Kate’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Dani and I got married!”

“Congratulations,” Tyler says, butting in before Kate can blurt out another What? or When?

“It’s just for the grant,” Lily reminds him, laughing and waving off his sincerity.

“Never thought I’d say somebody married me for the money,” Dani remarks wryly. She’s wearing a ring too. Hers fits better. Kate wonders where they got them, and assumes the tiny antique store on the main strip.

Lily blows Dani a kiss.

“I went as a witness,” Dexter says.

“This just happened?” Javi asks, looking at each of the three conspirators in turn.

Lily shrugs and says, “Yeah.”

“You didn’t talk to the rest of us about it,” Tyler says. Kate doesn’t think it’s quite a complaint, but he seems thrown to have been left out of the loop.

“Oh, like the three of you let us in on whatever you’ve been planning?” Dani demands, pointing out Tyler, Kate, and Javi.

Tyler looks a little sheepish after that.

“Haste was the order of the day,” Dexter says. “It seemed efficient. We can move forward with our application now.”

“Yeah,” Kate agrees, still a little stunned. “For sure. Efficient. Thanks for taking one for the team, you guys.”

“No problem,” Lily says, and pulls her into a hug.

It’s not until later, out at a bar to celebrate the wedding (or the marriage, or their hopes to deceive the government for financial gain, or just their crew, really, who delight in one another’s exploits), that Kate, Javi, and Tyler find themselves at the same table. As if it’s a coincidence. Kate presses the rim of her bottle of beer into her smile.

“Lived to fight another day,” Tyler says over the vibrant twang of music, staring at the rest of their crew as they line dance to and fro across the floor.

It’s so typically dramatic of him that Kate and Javi glance at one another, and Kate has to pinch her nose shut so beer doesn’t shoot out of it when she laughs.

“Owens, I saw you talking to Kate outside the diner this morning,” Javi reveals. “Didn’t look like you were pleading to be spared.”

“You were spying on us?” Kate demands, rounding on Javi. She gives his shoulder a half-hearted shove as he laughs.

“Hey! I wanted to see how things were gonna turn out!”

“I’m pretty curious about how things are gonna turn out myself,” Tyler asserts, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He gives Kate a significant look. She dodges it, ducking her head with a smile. She can feel the both of them watching her.

Javi reads her right:  “Too soon to say, huh, Kate?”

She looks up, letting her eyes slide from one face to the other, incredibly fond of them both. Slowly, she grins.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep watching the weather,” she tells them.

Kate slaps her hands on the table and rises to join the others on the floor.

[my-castles-crumbling]

oh my GOD the weirdest thing just happened to me and I NEED ur advice.

So basically, I have this friendship group of like eleven annoying idiots (love ‘em all), and me.

Two of them and me r in the marauders fandom. We’re all 16 btw, just finished GCSEs!!!!!!!!! This is THE summer!!!!!

Anyways, we have ONE couple in our friendship group (that gives rosekiller vibes ngl) and a few others are dating people but not from inside the group (not much group-cest).

So like yesterday, we were all hanging out at one of our houses and I turn to my best mate in the group (who’s also a marauder girlie) and say “isn’t it so weird that our friendship group doesn’t have a wolfstar ship.” cause like ngl, we do give marauder era friendship vibes.

AND EVERYONES GOES SILENT???????? Like people were halfway thru words and they SHUT up. They always ignore us when we talk abt the marauders.  

So I turn to everyone and go “what’s with the silence, half of u don’t even know what wolfstar is.”

And one of them goes “we might not know shit about harry potter but someone’s definitely mentioned wolfstar a few times”. 

AND SHE LOOKS AT ONE OF OUR FRIENDS.

I assume I shouldn’t use her real name her so imma just call her Clara (she loves TS Clara Bow song so-).

Clara blushes REAL red and looks down and whispers for the person who said that to shut up.

So I say “Hang on, I thought we weren’t allowed to blab abt the marauders after *my best mate* and *another person in the group* argued over who hated JKR the most? For three hours.”

And the girl from before who apparently knows what wolfstar is says “Yeah- except when we’re watching wolfstar happen, of course we have to know what it is.”

HUH,

So I furrow my eyes brows at her and she goes “you know” which I DONT.

And then my best mate rolls her eyes and says “we do have a wolfstar in this friendship group dumbass.” 

LIKE WHO OKAY? 

Anyway, we sorta moved on. And when I tried to hound my best mate later that night she wouldn’t tell me shit. She just kept saying “no. you know all the ships in our friendship group. we aren’t keeping the wolfstar one from you.”

ANYWAY I went home and THEN it occurred to me that… ME. I could be in the wolfstar ship our friends were talking abt. Otherwise I would KNOW, since I always know.

And there’s only one person they all ship me with in our group, Clara. 

SO I TEXT MY BEST MATE LIKE, WAHT RHE FUCK GIRL YOUVE BEEN SHIPING ME WITH SOMEONE SECRETLY

and she says, she hasn’t been shipping us secretly she’s been shipping us to my face

and so I say, that it wasn’t serious until she compared me to my FAV marauders couple

and so she says, WELL IM GLAD U NOW FEEL ITS SERIOUS 

and so I say, how dare u compare me to remus, I love him but he’s def not me. 

and she says, IM NOT BITCH YOURE SIRIUS

so I say, SIRIUS? 

and she says, SIRIUS!

And I say, girl how? 

And she says, how about the fact that ur family are psychos and u really need to move out. How abt because ur an idiot who can’t see what’s right in front of her? How about your a demi bi queer chaotic mess who can’t recognise what could be the love of your life if she literally kissed you on the cheek which she FUCKING DID

so I say, … that was platonic? 

And she says, I hate you (jk I love u) but no rlly I hate u so much. WHAT RHE FUCK DUDE. 

So I say, wait, u don’t think she has a crush on me do u? 

and she says, I FUCKING HATE U HOW R U THIS DUMB.

(this is all taking place over text in case I hadn’t made that clear).

So i say, JUST CAUSE SHES GAY DOESNT MEAN SHE FANCIES ME.

And she says, NO BUT KISSING UR CHEEK AND ASKING U OUT ON SINGLE DATES AND BEINF SAD WHEN U GET A BF AND SPENDING ALL HER TIME WITH TOU DOES MEAN SHE FANCIES U DUMBASS.

So I say, has she told you? 

And she says, u know I can’t say either way.

So I say, so no. She doesn’t. 

AND RHEN I STOP REPLYING.

But now I think she might. 

Which is awkward. Look i’m not like- straight or anything, but I never get crushes, who has the time to care honestly. 

And I don’t wanna be like, oh my friend who’s a lesbian ObViOuSlY has a crush on ME. I’m not like, Erin in Derry Girls. UGH. 

But in hindsight, she HAS seemed bothered whenever I talk about boyfriends (which isn’t that often cause again, who has the fucking time). 

And she did NOT like my ex. Which was only sort of fair personality wise.

And like yes, technically, we have hung out solo and then she kissed my cheek. But like, we’re just really good friends.

ALSO how dare my best mate compare me to Sirius. Sure my parents are evil but they’re NOT RICH. I mean if you’re gonna be horrific at least be rich right? 

And here’s the thing, if I bring it up and Clara does like me- WHAT DO I SAY

and if I bring it up and she doesn’t, i’m that bitch who assumes she does cause she’s gay.

AND if I don’t and she does like me, am I just being ignorant so it’s easier for me. 

Or if i don’t and she doesn’t like me, will I think there’s some weird air here and she won’t even know what’s going on. 

I HATE being in the unknown.

And like I had known our friends shipped us but they’ve done it for like… three years maybe? Not religiously but as a jk. 

So by this point it’s just background noise. but now they’ve compared us to WOLFSTAR (and know what wolfstar is it seems) now I’m like thinking about this.

MAYBE THATS THEIR PLAN. Maybe it’s just a trick to mess with us more. 

But now I can’t help worrying that when we hang out it’s supposed to be a date. Or that time she kissed me was supposed to be a date and I DIDNT REALISE and just rudely ignored her. 

WHAT IF IVE BEEN A BITCH THIS WHOLE TIME? 

Also like yes, she was there for the wolfstar comparison, but idk if SHE knows it was US being compared to them.

Clara doesn’t LOVE the marauders fandom, but she’s lovely and always lets me ramble about it (like I let her ramble abt her books). And so she knows a lot of lore, specifically about Wolfstar. 

So idk if she knew it was abt us, or if she’s just like realising now.

Also, and here’s the weird part, I care. 

I never give a shit usually, about whoever has a crush on me or whatever. I just do what I want and deal with other people later. But now it’s my friend, my really lovely and funny and sweet and beautiful and kind friend and I don’t want to hurt her.

BUT MAYBE I WONT. Cause maybe she doesn’t even like me so it’s nothing to worry abt. 

WHO KNOWS ANYMORE.

Anyway, that’s the story. Got any advice for me Cas? ALSO congrats on your new school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh boy.

First of all- babe, it sounds like you're the last to know about all this. But I'm glad you're aware now. Welcome to the party!

Also- "my really lovely and funny and sweet and beautiful and kind friend" uhm. do you wanna say that again? And tell me there's no feelings there?

I mean, I'm not gonna tell you how you feel but it sounds like you need to stop overthinking and just spend some time with Clara. Because it could be that you're overlooking something great, here. Stop getting in your head and just feel for a bit. Wolfstar is a superior ship for a reason :D

Naming you wolfstar anon