#what is this edge fest going on holy fuck

[fruitcoops]

Ok so this post is from a while ago but i just saw it and am wondering if you would want to write something based on it? Or just about trauma response in general?

Fic O'Ween Day 8: Shiver. Credit to @lumosinlove for the SW-verse and @noots-fic-fests for the header + prompts!

TW for trauma response to canon injury (Remus')--flashback, panic attack symptoms; and broken bone.

Call for stretcher on standby before moving out. Careful on the patch by the bench—always extra slippery. Check pulse and breath, then pupil constriction. Pen light in the shirt pocket. Players take a knee to make space. Use your body to block the camera in the right corner.

Remus knew what he was supposed to do. Of course he did. He just…couldn’t move.

“EMTs on standby!”

This was a strange feeling, not moving. It wasn’t even that—a choice. It was a complete and total absence. What was the opposite? Stillness? He didn’t feel still. He didn’t feel as if something had taken the place of motion. A gap had been scooped out of his belly, and nothing had come to fill it. It was simple emptiness where there had been adrenaline five seconds before.

“Lupin, catch up on Vance’s left!”

Had his ears always rung at that pitch? Funny. He hadn’t noticed.

“Lupin!”

Perhaps they had. Perhaps someone in the crowd had brought a whistle. There were an awful lot of people crowding the rink.

“Hey—” Weight and pressure collided with the back of his neck. Remus felt something in him go dim, powered off. “Kid, let’s fucking go! Are you asleep out here?”

James’ feet were flexing in his skates. Restriction of the tibialis anterior from the pain. Vastus medialis, following. His knee bent and bowed inward. If he kept the writhing up, there would be strain on the gastrocnemius and soleus. Remus blinked hard. James’ legs tended to ache after practice. The man got calf cramps like nobody he’d ever seen.

“Jesus Christ,” the hand on his neck muttered. It moved away. Pressure released.

“Rapid breathing, strain in the calf,” Remus blurted. His eye twitched. Blinking took incredible effort. “He’s going to try and stand up. Stop, James, stop it—”

Careful on the patch by the bench. He sidestepped without a second thought. In two strides, he was looking at James’ flushed and sweaty face. “Holy fuck, my fuckin’ arm, on fucking fire—”

“Pots.” His neck was burning up under Remus’ two fingers. Ten seconds, 25 thumps. “150 bpm,” Remus informed the nearest trainer. The pen light was ice-cold in his fingers. “James, give me a big deep breath.”

“Loops—”

“I’ll count to four while you breathe in, and then we’re gonna let it out for four.” His own voice reverberated back to him from a thousand miles away. Ice dampened the knees of his khakis. James gritted his teeth; his nostrils flared. “One, two, three, four. Good job. And four, three, two, one. Nice, buddy. Pupil activity normal, breathing unimpaired. You said it was your arm, right? Up or down?”

“All of it,” James panted. “All—fuck me, Loops, don’t talk to me right now—”

“Almost done, J. Wiggle your fingers.” A faint roaring had started up in the back of his mind. It crept into his eardrums and down his back. Something trickled down his spine and tiptoed through the marrow of each rib. James’ fingers twitched. “Great work. Alright, they’re going to slide you onto the stretcher now. Keep taking those big breaths for me.”

Black, Dumais, and Walker were all hovering in the corner of his eye like crimson-and-black bloodstains. They blurred together as the roaring grew louder. Remus staggered to his feet. His pen light wobbled in his fingers, and he shoved it clumsily into his back pocket. Black stepped forward, quiet as a ghost on his skates. “Is he okay?”

“Um—I don’t—” The left edge of his vision blurred into grey. “I don’t diagnose. Possible elbow dislocation. Or radial or ulnar break. Likely not the humerus.”

“But is he okay?” Black pressed. The stretcher was so yellow against the ice it hurt to look at.

Remus’ throat squeezed. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Probably out for a couple games. ‘Scuse me.”

Christ on a crutch, he was going to throw up if he didn’t get out of here right fucking now.

Black wasn’t looking at him anymore. Walker was talking to James as they loaded him up and began rolling him off the ice. Dumais…

Dumais was staring at him dead-on. Remus swallowed hard, and saw him lean over to whisper at Moody.

Would he—could they fire him for this? He thought he did okay. Pulse, pupils, penlight, ice patch. Four for four. He had been slow getting off the bench, but that was an abnormality. Nothing they needed to be concerned about for the future. There wouldn’t be a repeat performance. There wouldn’t, there wouldn’t.

He couldn’t feel his knees.

Moody was walking toward him.

Remus just barely managed to stumble back onto solid ground in the wake of the stretcher before Moody caught up. Barely. The flex of his hands was starting to hurt. Sweat and chemicals and terror washed his nose with acid.

“Lupin?”

He could feel plasticky foam on his cheek. It itched. Stung.

“Hey, kid, you with me?”

In the distance, his mouth coughed out a mumble. Fingers snapped under his nose. He couldn’t bring himself to flinch. If he flinched, the hands on his body were going to wrench his life out through his shoulder.

“Walk with me.”

Pressure on his upper back. A lurch.

Pale wood door. Heavy lock. Cold handle. Man door hand hook car door. Jules thought that was the funniest ghost story in the whole world.

“Sit.”

It was less of a sit, more of a controlled fall, and the easiest thing Remus had done in the past half hour. Something heavy fell over his shoulders.

“Hand.”

Man door hand hook car door.

Rough hands took one of his own between them. His wrist was full of gel instead of bones. Cooling gel? Ice pack. James was going to need—“Ice packs. Pots needs ice packs.”

His palm was clammy when it pressed to the base of his own throat. “We’ll have some ready when the docs are done.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. “160 bpm.”

“Take some breaths.”

An inhale sounded gaspy in the underwater buzz of the rink. An exhale rushed out all at once. He felt a little push to the back of his hand, and his fingers curled over his collarbone. The heel of his palm was solid against his sternum. The hollow of his throat gave slightly under his thumb. “130 bpm.”

“Keep going.”

“My neck.”

Extensive damage. Rhomboid. Deltoid. Trapezius. All the way into the splenius, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the hit or the dislocation or being pinned. A seat of salt poured into his mouth. He could taste it, the inside of a glove and the chemicals they used to clean the locker room mats. His head throbbed, pounded, he couldn’t see.

“145 bpm.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?”

“Strain potential whiplash impact.” Words tripped over each other to explain with complexity the situation did not need.

The hand over his own vanished, leaving cool air. Fingertips pushed gently against the sides of his neck. “Keep breathing, Lupin.”

A thumb ran along the outside of his spine and the floor came into focus. Prodding, palpating. Gentle despite the rasp of calluses at his nape. Steady, not gripping. He could pull away if he wanted to.

“I don’t feel damage.” A push beneath his ear. “Just some tension. Rate?”

Remus exhaled. “110.”

“Good work.”

“Thank you.”

“You interns and your manners,” Moody muttered. A few blinks brought his face back, all scrutiny and scowls. Remus had learned not to take it personally. “Relax, Lupin. Hand stays there until you’re under a hundred, you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

He was so lucky. He was so lucky. They were so kind to him here. He would try to deserve it.

“I’m sorry.”

Moody stood and pumped some sanitizer into his palm. The sharp tang chased out the bitter chemicals lingering in Remus’ memory. He sat back in his rolling chair, half-watching the game on the corner TV while his glass eye remained focused just over Remus’ shoulder. “Why?”

“Froze up.”

Moody set his bad leg up on a footstool with a grunt. “Rate?”

“90.”

“Where’d you go out there?”

A locker room, two years and a thousand miles away. “College.”

“Bad hit?”

Remus took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Moody nodded. “Gonna be a problem?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“Tell me if it is.” On the screen, Kasey made a beautiful save. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” Sweat was beginning to freeze on his skin; he shivered. He took his palm off his neck and tucked it under his thighs, but missed the pressure above his heart almost instantly. The light blanket over his back wasn’t much more than a thin comfort. “I just—I don’t know. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“You’re young. You learn.”

“James was down.”

“It was five seconds, Lupin.” Moody’s voice wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel, either. “You did your job. Now you know.”

The back of his throat prickled. He managed a nod.

“You know, Heather is a resource for all Lions staff.”

It’s not that simple, he wanted to say. But—it could be. Maybe. Not right now, when he was teetering on the tightrope between two worlds, but soon. He could do that for Moody and James and Arthur and maybe, just a little, for himself.

[harringtons-cupid]

Nobody gets me like you - Steve x Fem! Reader

wc. 1k

Warnings 18+: Smut: creampie, choking, hotel sex, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (reader's first time). Angst: crying, breakup themes. Fluff: Kissing, established relationship, love letter

Tagged: @sweet-villain @harrys-four-nipples @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @moonchildquinn @pleasantlycrazyworld @urlbitchin @tinyluvs @bisexual-byers @joejoequinnquinn

Thanks to SZA for writing, Nobody gets me. What an icon. Also you guys know me, the images above says nothing about the indication of readers skin colour. Reader is you

[Feedback/reblogs are extremely meaningful. Please support your content creators]

Buy me a tea | masterlist |

Tears fell down your face as you sat in his maroon BMW, you both knew that this might happen but you didn't think the day would come so soon.

Tears fell down your face as you sat in his maroon BMW, you both knew that this might happen but you didn't think the day would come so soon.

He was the only person who got you, the only person who understood what went on in your mind. You loved him to death.

"How am I supposed to let you go?" his voice broke as he clasped onto your hands so tightly they hurt.

His voice making you cry even more, he was off to college away from you. The idea of trying long distance, you knew would never work.

"Steve, you know. We don't have to end this today" your breath was hitched as you spoke.

"We don't?" he questioned, wiping the tears off his face.

The idea scanning through his mind, those beautiful brown eyes lit up as he let go of your hands. Turning the key into his car and drove out of your house drive, you were confused slightly but not wanting him to change his mind.

Racing through town until he sped fast the 'Goodbye Hawkins' sign, your tears dried as he grinned at you. You still had the clothes from staying at his, he didn't care about any of that.

The need to have one last night with you, the ultimate fuck fest was the only thing on his mind.

He stopped 7 hours out of Hawkins at a run down motel, handing you the keys to the motel as he grabbed the rest of your belongings. Smiling at you as he noticed you sprawled onto the bed in nothing but your underwear.

"Holy fuck, I'm going to miss you" he breathed, the door slam shut behind him.

Throwing his clothes across the floor as he made his way to you, his eyes were full of lust. Peppering your body with soft kisses making you giggle as he grabbed any bit of skin, nibbling on the skin between your thighs.

His teeth grabbing onto the frilly parts of your underwear, ripping them off your skin with a squeal. Feeling feral as his hands comfortably sat underneath each cheek, his face perfectly resting on your cunt.

Slowly circling his tongue on your clit, your soft gasps filled the room as you bucked your hips on his face. Your hands tugging into his brown locks, messing up the perfect gelled look but he didn't care as his moans vibrated against your body.

His lips piercing around your clit, sucking gently before teasing your entrance with his tongue. Sliding it in with a gasp from you, your knuckles were loosing blood from gripping onto the bed too tightly.

"Fuck Steve, i'm so close" you shivered, your head pressed into the pillow.

"Cum for me baby" his voice was muffled as he replaced his tongue with his finger. His tongue returning to your clit.

Edging you closer and closer to your orgasm as you aggressively rode his face, wettening his stubble around his chin. His eyes staring deeply into yours as you moaned loudly, your body shook as you rode yourself through your orgasm.

Panting heavily as you continued to cum hard onto his face, watching as his eyes closed. Completely tasting you on his tongue, his fingers were curled inside you as you came for a second time.

Removing his fingers, he pushed them into your mouth forcing you to taste them before kissing you hard. His tongue slid into your mouth, sucking hard onto it.

Breathless, you held his face in yours with a grin. The sad but lustful look as he scanned your face. His cock was pressing into your thigh, hard and throbbing.

Your hand slid down to play with it, flicking the precum onto your fingers and watching him shudder and grind into your hands.

"Hurry up baby, stick it in for the memories" you moaned into his mouth, not moving your hand until he couldn't hold it in any minute.

Pulling you further down the bed, you laughed lightly. He spread your legs as far apart as he could, smacking your clit with his tip before teasing your entrance and sliding in.

You both groan at the sensation, he didn't move until he felt your wetness drown his cock inside you. Your hips moved for friction, gasping as you forced his eyes on you.

He found it hard to refrain from watching his cock slid in and out of you, knowing that it might be the last time he could.

His hands fit around your neck as he squeezed, you grinned at him as he began to speed up. Hitting your soft spot hard and fast, the bed creaking from the movement as his eyes flickered between opened and closed.

"Feels s-o-o fucking good baby" he shuddered, placing your hand onto your clit as he lifted you up slightly.

You groaned as you played with your clit, your legs tightly wrapped around his back. Not wanting him to move, too scared incase you would wake up and he wouldn't be yours.

Those dark orbs looked at you so softly, as your body moved with his. Tears began to fall down your cheeks, you were glad that his eyes were closed. You were going to miss him.

His eyes opened suddenly, forcing your hand off your clit and spanking it with his own hand. You gasped, closing your eyes tightly as you rode through the sensation. It resurged within a second and you felt yourself squirt hard against his cock, splashing all over the bed.

Staring at you in awe and amazement, you had never squirted before now. His body shuddered as you continued until you gasped for breath.

"You're so fucking hot baby, i'm so close" he groaned with desperation.

After catching a burst of energy, you began rocking your hips onto his cock. His tip hitting around your walls hard, he whimpered as you edged him closer to his orgasm.

"Cum for me Steve, cum in your favourite cunt for the last time. Leave me all filled up before you leave" you gasped, his hands tightened around your neck.

His body shook, filling you up with his hot silky cum. Fucking it deeper and deeper until his cock slipped out you. Gasping out of exhaustion, he laughed as he fell next to you.

Crawling onto his chest, as both of your bodies tingled. The sweat glistened in the half-light, your face hurt from grinning so much.

You laid there until you were over the brick of exhaustion, your body naked bodies fitted together. The sky was darker as the night lights shone between the thin curtains.

Wanting to talk but you stayed in silence, scared of breaking down. Steve broke first.

"I don't want to see you with anyone but me" he voice was quiet and sad, it echoed into the small room.

"Nobody will have me, i'm yours Steve. I only like myself but you" you sighed, and the tears began to fall again.

Your chest ached as you looked at him the dark, finding his face and kissing him.

"All yours even if I have to let you go. My heart won't" you were crying heavily now, he pulled you into his chest as he began to shake.

Wet droplets fell onto your head as he cried onto you. Finally sleep found you both, wrapped together in each others bodies. Not moving until the last second, stopping at a diner for breakfast.

His feet played with yours under the table, making you giggle into the menus as you ordered. Your eyes were bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep, his hair was no longer gelled. His fringe fell over his face.

"You're so pretty" you leaned across the table, grasping his hand in yours with a sad smile.

You ate slowly until the afternoon sun crept through the big glass windows, your coffees had long gone cold as you talked together. Avoiding the elephant in the room.

He held you in the carpark of the diner, he held your hand in the car as he drove you home. Kissing you hard for the last time that night.

Sunday Monday as your parents loaded the last things into your car, Steve pulled onto the bed of your drive. As suspected his parents weren't with him, his car packed similarly to yours.

Standing awkwardly away from each other until you rushed forward and embraced him. Smelling his strong cologne, his breath on your neck as he squeezed you.

Neither of you wanting to give in first, still avoiding the elephant in the room.

You began to cry as he whispered "I love you", your hair tangled into his mouth as he stroked your back smoothly.

As he let you go, his hand slipped you a note.

"Read it when you're in the car. I needed to see you one last time my love" his words were choked up as he stroked your face. Gazing at you before heading back to his car.

You watched him, clutching onto the note tightly. Deciding you needed to feel him one last time you rushed forward and leaned your head into the car, and kissed him.

Crying onto his lips until he mumbled "I gotta go baby", taking one last look at him before you watched his car drive away from you.

Disappearing into your car to avoid your parents, you ripped open the note. It was simple and short.

Nobody gets me but you, all yours.

Stevie

[thehoneybeet]

hi, would love to hear what writing desiderium was like for you! what was your favorite part? What did you learn?

hi anon! I am so sorry it took me so long to answer this ask, especially because I love answering questions like this. thank you for asking!

sometimes writing (for me) is like pulling teeth. a lot of sweat, blood, tears, etc. but writing desiderium wasn't like that at all! I had written Harry's death scene/memory in a moment of inspiration, along with the very last phrase, and then I sat down over a few days and wrote the rest of the story in chronological order. I also wanted to challenge myself to write longer, continuous scenes, so the structure was born out of that.

this fic was for @hp-poetry-fest. i really loved working from a poem as a muse, especially this one. the poem itself makes no sense. or at least very little. but the images are so vivid. his flashing eyes, his floating hair. close your eyes with holy dread. the shadow of the dome of pleasure floated midway on the waves. and I thought, there's something yearning about this. like seeking some creative (or sexual, or spiritual) pinnacle that is just out of reach. it's also a very sexual poem, if you read it that way (sinuous rills, caverns measureless to man). for harry and draco, i wanted to encapsulate that sense of seeking something like paradise in each other and not quite finding it. but that's alright, because the mutual yearning is enough.

so much of it was a joy to write, but my favorite parts are probably the moments when things change for them. I love the conversation they have when they first go to bed, which sort of re-calibrates both of their understanding of their club fuck-buddy situation as something both sweeter and yet fundamentally missing something. and watching through draco's eyes as harry makes the decision to treat him better.

i'm also a sucker for endings, and writing them is always a bit of a thrill when i feel i'm getting it right. it's like music, when you gradually build the tension and emotion until you get this moment of release.

what did i learn? i love this question. this fic was really self-indulgent. i love thunderstorms, i love edging, i love intimacy, i love small yet life-altering confessions, i love poetry, and i guess i learned that when you let yourself just run with it, people sense that in your work. people connected to it more than I expected, which was wonderful. it's the kind of writing I want to do more of.

thank you so much for the ask, and here's the link if anyone wants to check it out!

read Desiderium on AO3

also: for me, an important part of writing is not being alone in it! very grateful to @mono-chromia for the cheer-reading as I was writing, which made me feel safe to be as self-indulgent as my little heart desired. and @the-fools-errand, @epitomereally, and @nv-md for the encouragement and suggestions as well.

[blackbird-brewster]

Friday Fic Recs

I actually read stuff this week! And all of it was smut! (Hormonal menopause side effect = always horny. So these are all masturbatory worthy)

What I've Read:

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 1516 Rated: Explicit || Author: Jem_ily

Why I Love It: This was so sexy! I love their dynamic, and how impatient JJ is to fuck her girlfriend. Very well written, and hits some of my fave kinks.

Criminal Minds, Alex x Reader, WC: 4185 Rated: Explicit || Author: Kattwylie

Why I Love It: So, I don't usually read anything that's 'x Reader', its just not something I enjoy -- That being said, I tried this one out and HOLY SHIT. It's so good!!! Alex Blake as a soft Dom??? Be still my heart! An incredible fic start to finish

Criminal Minds, Tara x Reader, WC: 2652 Rated: Explicit || Author: Kattwylie

Why I Love It: After reading 'Translucent', I looked through other fics by Kattwylie and ended up here. My love for Tara knows no bounds, so this was absolutely delicious. Tara was extremely in character, and the entire set-up was very well done. Probably will come back to this one again if ever I feel like 'x reader' vibes.

What I Have Marked For Later:

(A new category, because there are fics I want to showcase that I just haven't had time to read yet!)

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 3975 Rated: Mature || Author: sunshineandguns

Why I'm Excited: I know this fic was a long time coming, so I was stoked to see it finally posted this week! I'm very much looking forward to reading this angst fest this weekend. Anything sunshineandguns writes is transcendent, and I know this one is going to hurt so good.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 12,839+ (WIP) Rated: Explicit || Author: blackbirdphoenix (@unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix)

Why I'm Excited: Alyssa wrote it, so I know it's going to be amazing. I want to carve out some time to read this whole thing in one sitting because I know it's going to be 'one of those fics', where I won't want to put it down.

What I'm Writing:

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily/Tara, WC: 19,347+ (WIP) Rated: Explicit || Updates Weekly on Fridays

Update: I finally finished editing all the chapters I had previously written! I also wrote a new chapter this week that I'm really happy with, currently I have 15 chapters fully written and my WC is around 72,000. And I haven't even gotten to the climax of the story, this slow burn is the slowest burn. I think it's kind of a double-edged sword to have so much written in advance, because it means I'm constantly nit-picking over details, knowing these chapters won't be posted for months, but that also means when they do get posted, each chapter will be the best version of itself.

More Fic Recs Under the Cut:

Other Recommendations:

Past Friday Fic Recs:  [Friday Fic Recs - Tumblr] || [CM Fic Recs - AO3 Collection]

Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [CM Femslash]

My Fics: [Jemily] || [Temily] || [Jara] || [All]

[greensparty]

Stuff I’m Looking Forward to in March

We’re about to enter the final month of the first quarter of 2023. Crazy! In addition to Holi (March 8), Daylight Savings Time (March 12), St. Patrick’s Day (March 17), Ramadan (from March 22 to April 21) and Women’s History Month (March 1-31) here is what’s on my radar:

Movies:

Scream VI

I wasn’t that impressed with last year’s Scream (let’s call it Scream 5 as I hate this recent trend of sequels that have the same name as the original), but I’m cautiously optimistic that this new one will be better, in which the characters leave Woodsboro for NYC. My prediction is this will not be as good as Scream 1 and 2, but will be better than Friday the 13th Part VIII Jason Takes Manhattan. Opens 3/10. 

Bono & The Edge: A Sort of Homecoming with Dave Letterman

Documentarian Morgan Neville (his doc Won’t You Be My Neighbor? was my #1 Doc of 2018) goes to Dublin following David Letterman joining U2′s Bono and The Edge on a concert performance in their home city. Sounds like the best episode of My Next Guest Needs No Introduction with David Letterman that never aired on Netflix: An icon interviewing icons in their city directed by an icon! Doc premieres on 3/17 on Disney+.

A Good Person

Zach Braff proved he was much more than an actor trying to direct with his excellent Garden State in 2004. Since then his directing has been hit or miss, but I’m hopeful about this new drama starring Florence Pugh and Morgan Freeman opening 3/24.

Spinning Gold  

Timothy Scott Bogart, the son of Casablanca Records founder Neil Bogart, wrote and directed this biopic about his dad. Even if this doesn’t live up to the premise, I’m sure the depiction of Kiss, Donna Summer and the Village People on this label is going to be interesting. Limited release on March 31.

Music:

The Smile Europe Live Recordings 2022

Last year’s debut album A Light for Attracting Attention from The Smile (the side project of Radiohead’s Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood) was my #1 Album of 2022. Now the band is releasing a limited edition live EP. Vinyl release on 3/10.

Lana Del Rey Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd

The 9th album from LDR is almost here. I out and out loved her albums Ultraviolence and Norman Fucking Rockwell! Here’s hoping this new album lives up to those masterpieces. Digital drops 3/10 and physical drops 3/24.

U2 Songs of Surrender

We haven’t had a new studio album from U2 since 2017. This new album is the band re-recording and re-interpreting 40 of their songs. While it’s not new music, I am exciting to hear how this group of 40+ years is going to re-do some of their songs. Album drops 3/17.

TV:

The Mandalorian (Disney+)

I was a big fan of the first two seasons of this Star Wars TV series that takes place 5 years after Episode 6 ( I named it my #3 TV Show of 2020). Season 3 premieres on 3/1.

Ted Lasso (Apple TV+) 

The sports comedy with Jason Sudeikis as an American coach to a U.K. soccer team lived up to the hype! Season 3 premieres on 3/15.

Lucky Hank (AMC)

Last month when I covered Hasty Pudding Theatrical of Harvard University’s Man of the Year ceremony for Bob Odenkirk at the press conference, he mentioned that he enjoys mixing it up, i.e. doing a comedy after a drama. If anyone can do that it’s Mr. Odenkirk. Last year was the series finale of Better Call Saul (which I named my #1 TV Show of 2022). Now Odenkirk is returning to AMC, the home of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, for this lighter series (or perhaps I should say lighter than Better Call Saul) about an English professor at an underfunded college who has a midlife crisis of sorts. Series premieres on 3/19.

Film Festivals:

Boston Underground Film Festival 

Boston’s film festival celebrating genre film is back. I’ve had the pleasure of covering this film festival since 2016! Fest returns to the Brattle Theatre (Cambridge, MA) from 3/22 to 3/26.

Awards Season:

Awards season is slowly winding down this month with WGA Awards on 3/5 and Academy Awards on 3/12.

In a Category all their own:

Shamrock Shakes!!!

I look forward to going to McDonalds every March for these minty shakes!

[mtt-inactive]

* i love how no matter how much i try my tumblr presence is slowly fading away like a glossy coffee table gathering dust in an abandoned house

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - May 2021. New rec list for you. Hope you enjoy these delightful reads featuring our favourite werewolf and human dorks <3

May I Interest You in an Apology Muffin? by Leslie_Knope (1/1 | 1,478 | Teen)

“Wait, seriously? Who is it? C’mon, just tell me.”

“Uh…,” Stiles said, buying for time while he looked around as surreptitiously as possible. “That guy over there,” he whispered finally, jerking his chin toward the dark-haired guy three tables over, a guy so hot that Stiles’ only chance with him would most definitely be in an imaginary scenario.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the guy and got that determined glint in his eye that Stiles recognized, just about three seconds too late. Scott was gonna do something that he thought was heroic but was actually dumb.

“Scott!” he hissed, grabbing for his backpack and nearly knocking over their coffee cups in his haste to follow him. “Oh, holy shit.”

you all over me by Poe (1/1 | 3,705 | Explicit)

The thing about Stiles is, Derek thinks, is that he has no idea how enthralling he truly is. He’s easy to overlook, right up until the point he isn’t, and at some stage, Derek started looking, and now, it’s all he can do.

(or: the one where the pack is happy, healthy and alive, and Stiles and Derek are sort of inevitable)

a bad case of the wilds by kaistrex (weishen) (1/1 | 6,446 | Explicit)

“I could smell you all over town,” Derek growls.

Stiles squints back at him, trying to parse what Derek wants from him with that statement. An apology?

“Okay?” he says instead, which, as with everything else he says around Derek, seems to be the entirely wrong thing to come out of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes go red and Stiles bolts upright in his chair, trying to scoot backwards, banging into his desk.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Get away from me, Stiles,” Derek bites out, hands clenched into fists.

Stiles rolls his head on his shoulders. “Dude, this is my room. You get away from me.”

–

Basically, I wanted Derek fucking Stiles up against his bedroom window on a full moon with the blind up, so I wrote it. Happy Valentine's Day!

Cabins, Confessions, and Cockroaches by Nutellargh (1/1 | 4,009 | Teen)

That's how Stiles found himself in the middle of a forest, trying to grab the one bag of clothes and a bajilion bags of mystical powders, liquids, books and weapons, and instantly dropping them as he spotted the cabin dude.

Derek Hale chopping wood with an axe while shirtless was not a sight Stiles was prepared for.

the rescue by EvanesDust (1/1 | 860 | Teen)

Stiles has spent every moment of the last four months tracking the hunters who took his mate. Now that he’s found them, nothing will stop Stiles from taking back what’s his.

A Crooked Way to Fly by andavs (1/1 | 14,980 | General)

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

“Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

Big Bad Wolves by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt (1/1 | 1,144 | General)

"What's one more canine?"

But it's better when it's you by Tails89 (1/1 | 9,707 | Mature)

Shuffling slowly towards the front door, Stiles throws it open.

“What?”

Stiles’ brain short circuits - just a little - because standing in front of him is Derek Hale.

He hasn’t seen Derek in almost four years and now he’s standing on his doorstep, in shorts and a tank top with a canvas bag clutched in one hand.

Teen Wolf Fic Fest Prompt: Someone breaks a bone and someone unexpected winds up on their doorstep with a bag full of groceries

My Soul to Keep by jacyevans, Jmeelee (7/7 | 18,660 | Teen)

Stiles came with a whiteboard, and blue dry erase marker, flapping it over his head like a white flag on a battlefield.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You must want to say something. You've never gone this long without telling me to shut up." He waggled the marker in Derek's face. Stinging alcohol and pungent polymer singed Derek's nose hairs.

His fingers itched to pick up the board, and not because he wanted to tell Stiles to be quiet. He enjoyed the babble that filled the apartment every few days, the hearty food, Stiles' particular, reassuring smell: maple sugar buzz, spicy-sweet deodorant, milk-sour frustration, floral shampoo, and spring grass at night. It soaked into Derek's couch, his bed, his skull.

If any of it were real, Derek would take the board and write: thank you.

Lost Without You by ash_mcj (1/1 | 7,799 | General

Derek made a deal. A very stupid, no-good, mortifying deal because he couldn’t bear to tell his idiotic (secret) mate no. -- “You guys didn’t know that Derek plays piano?” Cora asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s played since before I was born.” “He was good,” Peter recalled. “He used to sing, too. Put on little concerts for the pups.” “That was a long time ago,” Derek clipped. “Doesn’t matter now - I don’t play anymore.” "Derek," Stiles whined childishly. He scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his arm to gently shake him. “C'mon, Sourwolf, my life will never be complete until I hear you sing. I’ll do anything. I’ll streak across the lacrosse field during our final match, if you perform for us right now.” "When you graduate," Derek relented. --- And then Stiles graduated. And Derek had to perform for him. And then the fact that Derek saw Stiles as his mate wasn’t a secret anymore. ---

(For~ Sterek Valentine Week 2021; Day 3 and 4: Secret Crush and Love Song)

**Songfic to "Lost Without You" by Freya Ridings

princecharmingwinks special mention (i have never read a merman AU for sterek and this was a delighful introduction to the trope! Also it has meddling erica which we all know any mention of her is my weakness!)

Beacon Gills by kitsunequeen (1/1 | 4,226 | Teen)

“Derek,” Erica singsongs loudly. Rather than knocking on the rather flimsy-looking piece of driftwood, she grabs a coconut filled with seashells and shakes it violently. “We’ve got a surprise for you!”

“I hate surprises,” Derek answers, voice slightly muffled through the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be out exploring the caves with Isaac?”

“He has some special guests tonight,” Boyd says. “And so do you.”

Derek doesn’t answer right away, and Stiles can almost imagine him sighing.

“Come in,” he yields finally. “You know it’s unlocked.”

Erica flings the door open, nudges Stiles inside, and slams it behind him.

“Surprise!” she yells, and then Stiles can hear her and Boyd’s footsteps quickly retreating.

Oh, shit.

---

When Stiles accompanies Scott on a trip to his uncle's beach house, he gets more than he bargained for after running into a pack of mermaids with a particularly attractive leader...

And that’s it for the month folks! Thank you to the amazing fandom always giving me so much content to enjoy, sterek fandom is the best fandom ;) 

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Hot House Husband Speedrun

MXTX Reverse Trope Fest - Day 2

Fast Burn

Wangxian Modern AU - AO3

“Whoa.”

Wei Ying is traveling alone, so there’s no one he knows around to hear his monosyllabic praise for the god who just walked into the restaurant, but the girl at the table next to him chokes on her drink when she follows his gaze so that’s got to count for something.

Listen - he might be kind of drunk on the cheap but surprisingly good liquor on offer at whatever this place with a bar is that he’s poured himself into, but just because he’s drunk doesn’t mean he’s blind. This guy is fucking gorgeous, and Wei Wuxian is gonna marry him. He can’t possibly know that such elegance, such beauty, such glory exists in the world without at least trying to claim it for himself. All his paintings, all his sculptures, all his attempts at portraiture have been nothing but sad imitations in comparison to this gleaming specimen of male perfection.

All of which he says to the god in question, who gives him just the teeniest tiniest hint of a smile in response. A smirk maybe? Definitely a smirk. That’s cool, Hot Guy can laugh at his expense if he wants to! Hot Guy could step on his face and Wei Ying would say thank you. The smirk takes on a deeper tilt and oh, he said that out loud too.

“You are drunk.”

“Holy shit your voice sounds like butter.”

Hot Guy blinks and then gets the cutest little furrow between his eyebrows like he’s trying to figure out how one’s voice could sound like a food product made of the fat solids extracted from milk.

“Thank you?” he eventually settles on, which makes Wei Ying positively beam.

“You’re welcome! Come sit with me?” Hot Guy looks over his shoulder and then around the restaurant, but he doesn’t seem to find whatever it is he’s looking for because he looks back down at Wei Ying and nods with a sort of gravitas that should be reserved for like. A fucking emperor. Wei Ying leads the man to his table which he promptly drapes himself half-over to continue watching his new friend like a hawk, a dopey smile on his lips the entire time Hot Guy plies him with fried food and a lot of glasses of water.

When Wei Ying is feeling mildly more sober he says perhaps the smartest thing he’s ever said in his life, which is: “Hey - d’you wanna marry me?”

Hot Guy chokes on his tea - because he ordered hot tea at an extravagantly themed, extremely upscale buffet in Vegas and they actually made it for him, because he’s a god and he can have whatever he wants forever - and gives him a wide-eyed look that very clearly states that he wasn’t planning on getting propositioned (literally) during a simple night out on the town.

“You are still drunk.”

“I’m sober enough to know that if you disappear on me I’ll just keep wandering around trying to find something that makes me feel like you do again, but I’ll never find it because I draw the line at stalking.”

Hot Guy’s lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, like it’s happening against his will, which Wei Ying is more than willing to consider another victory.

“On what basis are you making this offer?”

“Hey, I’m a guy wandering around the States living out of his van and selling art wherever people will buy it so I can pay for my next tank of gas, you think I’m gonna use logic to decide where I go next? I’m only here because the schmucks that come here for their boring desk job conferences will blow their money on anything to say they had a good time in Vegas.”

“Is that so?” Hot Guy asks with just a little bit of frost around the edges of his voice. Wei Ying, master of having no self-preservation instinct, leans in closer with a smile.

“Yeah. You kinda look the type, anyway - the desk job type, not the easily-pandered-to schmuck type. C’mon, Vegas is the place to do wild things, isn’t it? Marry a random drifter, take me home, scandalize your family. You’ll never be bored again anyway, that’s for sure.”

And this, somehow, miraculously, incredibly - works?!

Wei Ying wakes up the next morning fully aware of what he’s done and where he is, thank you very much, and he rolls over to find that yep, yeah, he’s got a husband. A really really pretty one who’s already watching him, eyes honey-gold in the morning sun streaming in through the gauze curtains on the window that do nothing to block much of anything at all.

“Ugh. You’re one of those put-together types who gets an east-facing room higher than 10 stories so you can wake up with the sun, aren’t you?” Wei Ying grumbles into his pillow. His husband (husband) - whose name he’d learnt at their wedding is actually ‘Lan Zhan’ and not ‘Hot Guy’, which seems tragic - raises an eyebrow at him with a bitchy little, “Mn.” that makes Wei Ying want to marry him all over again.

“Okay and you know that getting married in Vegas means we’re like. Actually married, right?” Wei Ying checks next, and receives another judgemental raised eyebrow (really talented eyebrows on this guy, what a keeper). “Okay, okay! Just checking. Would hate to get myself a husband only to find out he’s actually not cool with it and wants to just ditch me after his wild trip to Vegas is over and done with.”

Lan Zhan seems to ponder this for a long moment, that little confused furrow between his brows again. Wei Ying reaches across the bed to poke his fingertip right in the center of it and smooth it away, which earns him a half-hearted glare and a twitch at the corner of Lan Zhan’s lips like he’s trying not to smile.

“I do not do wild things. Wei Ying’s arguments were sound.”

“Ah?!”

“Last night. Your reasons for marriage.”

Wei Ying laughs aloud at that, happy and delighted, and Lan Zhan pulls him in closer with an arm slung over his waist. He seems tentative about it, so Wei Ying does what he does best and just barrels straight through the potential awkwardness to instead bury his face in Lan Zhan’s chest and rub his cheek against his absurdly soft t-shirt.

“What? That you can shock your family and so you’ll never be bored?”

“Mn.”

“Interesting. I’m so smart, picking such an interesting husband! This will either be really fun for the rest of our lives or I’m going to wind up dead in a ditch somewhere, no in between.”

“I will not hurt Wei Ying.”

“Fun it is, then,” Wei Ying sighs, a little softer than normal in response to the fervor behind Lan Zhan’s promise that he won’t hurt him. He can’t know yet how much that means to Wei Ying, and how desperately he wants to believe that someone as serious and earnest as Lan Zhan actually must mean it when he says it. But hey, Lan Zhan might not do wild things but Wei Ying sure does - he might as well just go all in and see what happens.

“Hey. When you’re done with your boring work conference do you want to ride back to uh…wherever we’re going, in my van? I can’t really just leave it here, it’s like. Literally where I live.”

“Mn. I live in Seattle, I have a house in a good neighborhood in Ballard. Near the Sound, and close the arts district in Fremont. You will enjoy it - we can take turns driving home.”

Wei Ying goes warm all over at the word ‘home’ and finds he’s very glad he’s already hiding in Lan Zhan’s surprisingly sculpted and sturdy chest.

“ ‘Kay,” he mumbles. Lan Zhan kisses the top of his head, and that’s that. They’re married. He’s going to settle down. They drive up to Seattle at the end of the week and Wei Ying finds he’s not only gained a husband but a whole family - who have understandably mixed reactions to his presence.

First off, he’s apparently got a kid, which is great because little A-Yuan is fucking adorable and climbs him like a jungle gym the second Lan Zhan tells the boy Wei Ying is going to be living with them and helping Lan Zhan raise him. His new brother-in-law seems uhhh..confused is probably the most delicate way to put it, but supportive nevertheless; welcoming enough, under the circumstances.

Then there’s Lan Zhan’s uncle, who turns a shade of purple Wei Ying is desperate to capture on film for proof that humans can turn that color, and suddenly he understands just exactly who it was Lan Zhan wanted to scandalize with his unannounced marriage to a homeless sculptor. He’s really only too happy to oblige and indulge his husband’s secret, deeply-hidden gremlin streak, and everyone’s just going to have to get used to it.

He’s staying put.

[mmvalentine]

In the Stacks | Feysand

College students AU. Smut. Naughty, public smut that I dare you to read in a crowd.

Rhys was late to the study group. Feyre had been there for a half hour with Mor and Amren and was ready to strangle them both. The former had been mainlining energy drinks all afternoon and was now bouncing up and down in her chair, and the latter was alternating between snapping at Mor and muttering under her breath as she worked out equations out loud. This was especially unhelpful because Amren was doing an advanced course and having irrelevant equations being spoken aloud while Feyre barely understood the maths she was supposed to be doing was more than unhelpful.

Feyre was just about ready to give up when the boys finally clattered in, jerseys mud-stained and with testosterone rolling off them in waves.

"Relax ladies, we have arrived!" Cassian announced, throwing himself into a chair next to Mor. Azriel sat down on her other side, kicking his sports bag under the table. "Thirty-five minutes late," Amren growled. "Sorry, practice ran over." Rhys kissed Feyre on the cheek, then in one smooth motion lifted her, slid into her chair, and placed her back on his lap. He smelled of grass, fresh sweat, and Rhys.

"To be fair, the bat boys need all the practice they can get," Mor said, eyes flashing. "They're playing us next weekend and we are undefeated this season." "The Illyrian Bats will crush the Nightmare Queens," Cassian said. Mor just shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet," she said. "Yes, yes, you all play Lacrosse. Now sit down and be quiet, some of us are trying to work," Amren said. Feyre stared at her, the irony astounding. Amren didn't notice.

While Cassian and Azriel busied themselves pulling out books and laptops and pens, Rhys wrapped his arms around Feyre's middle and buried his nose in the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"How was practice?" she asked him quietly. "It was good," he said, his lips moving against her. He nipped her earlobe, and then murmured, "Why do I always want you so bad when I've been working out?"

Feyre swatted him away. "Down boy," she said. "We're in public." Rhys sat back in the chair, and toyed with a curl that had come loose from Feyre's braid. "How's study going?" he asked her. "It's alright," Feyre said. "I like it better when you're here." Rhys kissed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry we were late." "It's okay. Maybe you can help me though, I've been stuck on this question for the last twenty minutes."

Rhys scooted the chair in closer to the desk, and looked over Feyre's shoulder at her open book. Under the table, his fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater.

"Let m be the slope of the tangent line to the graph of y equals x squared over x plus 2 at the point minus 3, minus 9. Express m as a limit," Rhys read out loud. Meanwhile, his nails scratched lightly over her belly, and Feyre leaned back into him instinctively.

"I don't get calculus," Feyre complained. "I've read the problem so many times it's just meaningless now." Rhys' hands smoothed over her thighs, and then clawed back upward. He squeezed her hips as he spoke.

"Okay this is not so bad. You got the previous question right, so you can get this one. You just need to substitute the new values into the same formula you used last time."

Now Rhys' hands were travelling back over her legs, his fingertips grazing Feyre's inner thighs. She shivered a little.

"I got it for the last question, but for some reason I can't repeat the process," she said. "Alright," said Rhys. "Give me your pencil and I'll write it out for you."

Feyre leaned forward and reached for her pencil case, and as she did, Rhys gripped her hips and rolled her over his lap. She was shocked to find him hard beneath her, and sat up in surprise.

Rhys plucked the pencil from her limp fingers.

"Thanks," he said. "Okay so, here look I'm copying this same formula, and the new values are substituted right here."

Rhys's voice was perfectly level. But while he wrote across the page, his free hand had snaked down between Feyre's legs. His fingers stroked down the seam of her leggings, then pulled back up slowly.

"What are you doing?" Feyre hissed at him. Rhys looked at her, his face innocent.

"Helping you with calculus," he said lightly. But his violet eyes burned. "Right so, since we know the coordinates are minus 3, minus 9, we can plug those straight in." Under the table, his fingers found the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs, and rubbed against it.

Feyre's knees jolted up at the sensation, and hit the table. Four pairs of eyes looked up at her, and Rhys' fingers stopped.

"Are you alright, Feyre darling?" he asked, wide eyed. "Fine," Feyre forced out. "Shall I continue?" Feyre just nodded.

Cassian gave her a weird look, and then returned to the argument he was having with Mor and Azriel. Amren glared pointedly at her as she reached for her eraser, her writing having been jostled. Then she, too returned to her work, and Rhys started moving again. Moved his hand up and then inside her pants, hidden under the desk. Feyre bit the inside of her cheek and tried very hard to hold her expression still.

"Okay," Rhys said to her. His fingers slid down the hot, wet core of her. His voice remained level, but she could have sworn she felt him shudder slightly against her back. "So now the equation has all the information and we can solve it. Now you do the next question." He handed her the pencil, and it shook in her grip.

M = she started to write, then had to stop. Rhys's index finger was sliding very, very slowly up into her. She was horrified. She was delighted. She needed more.

Staring hard at the desk and trying not to go bright red, Feyre's hips rocked involuntarily. Seeking more, more, more.

"That's it," he said. "Keep going." His tone completely neutral, nodding toward the page.

Lim, she managed to write, the words now shaky on the paper. Then the pencil snapped clean in half, and Rhys very calmly reached out and picked up another. He pushed a second finger into her, and started to move them in and out. The heel of his palm leaned into her clit.

"They don't make pencils like they used to, do they?" Rhys said. "Here, try again."

Feyre reached out, but only got as far as putting her hand on his, and then her insides clenched and her nails dug into his palm.

"By the way Feyre, Azriel and I were talking about the party after the big match next week," Rhys said, a little too loudly. "What do you think? Are you going to come?" "Um," Feyre stuttered. "Don't you want to come, honey?"

The edges of Feyre's vision went black. Holy fuck, she thought. She was going to come, right here, in front of all of their friends.

All of a sudden, Rhys pulled his hand away and stood up. Feyre was tipped out of his lap, and her hands caught the table as her knees gave.

"Actually," Rhys said, "if you're struggling with calculus, I found the older text book much more helpful than the current one. Let me see if I can find it for you."

He took Feyre's hand and walked around the corner. She followed, dazed, and as soon as they were out of sight from the group Rhys picked up his pace. Half-dragged her all the way through the stacks, deep into the dark shelf maze, and then when they were far away enough from the rest of the students he spun her around and kissed her.

Feyre's back hit a shelf with a dull thud, and she twined her arms around Rhys' neck with a soft moan. She licked at his lips, and when their tongues touched Rhys lifted her up and hitched her legs around his waist. Feyre, so far past caring that they were still technically in a public space, grabbed at his lacrosse shorts, pulllng them down in the front. Rhys pushed his hips against her, and her hands found the ledge of the shelf behind her. He yanked her leggings down, and next thing she knew, he was inside of her.

Feyre bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Rhys' head fell onto her shoulder, and he let her adjust for a moment. Then they were moving, desperately, frantically. Pulling at each other's hair. Fucking in the stacks.

In what must have been record time, Feyre broke suddenly, her back arching and her head knocking against a row of books. She held on tightly to Rhys as her climax wrung her out, and then Rhys' hand hit the shelf beside her shoulder and he was coming, too.

In the dark, dusty space between the books, Rhys and Feyre breathed hard. Feyre laughed sliently, shaking in Rhys' arms. He grinned at her through the shadows, and used his undershirt to clean her up. Then he looked around them, made sure the coast was clear, and sauntered out, casual as anything.

Feyre squeezed his hand, following, and pulled a random book from the shelf. Rhys looked at her quizzically.

"Well we can't very well come back empty handed," she said, and Rhys laughed a lovely, dark and glittering laugh.

****

Just wanted to write you lovely things a fun little one-shot as a palette cleanser before I get deep into the next chapter fic. Hope you enjoyed the smut-fest my darlings x

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 18: SAFE HOUSE

—

A/N: I hope you guys like this one ! I just wanted to add a little bit of fluff after all that angst-fest. Happy reading my loves! :)

———

"Enigma." I mumbled, the strange woozy feeling in my chest expanding as I shifted in my car seat to turn to Pietro.

"What?"

"I figured it out. I'm your enigma. Everyone has one." There was a lightness to my words as I said them and oddly enough, I didn't really mind. "You said you couldn't figure me out, therefore I'm your enigma."

I could see his hands on the wheel tighten just a little bit. The whole car ride, I'd been observing him. I just couldn't get his words out of my head.

You're driving me crazy, Y/N.

My head felt like it was about to explode by the sheer amount of force it took for me to figure out what he really meant. I felt...perplexed. I was wracking my entire brain out by trying to decipher the whole point of our previous conversation. Why did I drive him crazy? Why did he feel the need to tell me that?

Why did I feel like I should trust him?

"My enigma?" He scoffed, throwing a playful, cocky look my way. "You are nothing close to anything I'd call mine."

I rolled my eyes, "You know, it's no wonder you've got a head full of grey hair, you grouch."

"Hey!" He gasped, genuinely shocked at my comment. "I am most definitely not a grouch."

His accent made his reaction much better than I could've imagined. The way he rolled his R's made me laugh a little, so I copied it just for kicks, the letter teetering on the edge of my tongue. "Yep, a grouch would most definitely say that."

I scanned his face for any signs of annoyance, waiting to see if my words left any impression on him. Instead, I saw his expression grow heavier. I'd miss it if I blinked, but I swore I saw a flash of that same expression he wore when he confronted me before in my cell. Seriously, I have got to figure him out, and soon. Before I'm too vulnerable.

"We're here."

I turned around, looking out of the window to see the building I'd been dreading to return to. My heart felt like it had been dipped in acid and encased in lead. Suddenly, I knew why Pietro grew quiet.

Getting out of the facility had been fun, exhilarating almost. Steve had helped me escape just as he promised and left me with Pietro in the garage, handing him the car keys and giving him strict instructions to drive away while remaining incognito.

Pietro had a dazed look on his face then, part-confusion and part-anxiety, but I knew that we had one thing in similar; roguery in our veins. Pietro is a little troublemaker, I had mused as I eyed his way-too-giddy movements. He had no trouble following his Captain's orders, he was eager almost.

I told Steve that we could hide in an old safe house of mine, a tiny studio located somewhere in a sketchy town that was close to the facility so it was reachable by car, but far enough so that it wouldn't be a problem if any of his teammates were to come looking. At least we'd have enough time to escape if they did.

The last time I'd been here had been 2 years ago. Back when I thought I was still running from The Winter Soldier. Everything the Captain had revealed to me made me want to throw up. How else were you supposed to feel when someone told you that you'd been running and hiding for years, from a ghost? I felt like I'd been on an unprompted wild goose chase, except that instead of chasing the 'goose', I'd been chased by it. What a joke.

"You alright?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow, nothing but that disgusting kindness in his eyes. I wanted to strangle him right then and there. Was he offering me pity?

I threw him a half-hearted scowl, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just asking. This can't be easy for you, no?"

His words hit me like a truck, and the realisation that he wasn't offering me pity, but simply just inquiring, soon came after. It was an odd question to be asked. I'd rarely been offered that luxury, of someone caring enough to ask if you were alright or not. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that kind of sincerity, something I thought only existed out of my own realm. Yet here I was, trying to figure out the answer to his question.

I shook my head in an effort clear my thoughts, sort of like an etch-a-sketch. "I've been through worse."

We entered the building quietly, ignoring the looks thrown our way from a few bystanders. It was a rather rundown building, just as I had remembered it to be. I'd never made company with any of the people who live here, because how could I have? What kind of shit assassin would do that?

"They must not be used to new faces, huh?" Pietro tried—and failed—to ignore the man eyeing us from our right, clearly uncomfortable with the unwanted staring.

"I'd assume not. It's a pretty small town."

Pietro cleared his throat, "I see."

He looked a little uneasy, shifting from foot to foot. I followed his line of gaze and oh my god, the man was still staring.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snarled. He scurried away immediately, eyes averting from us either in shock or in fear. Though it was most likely the latter, considering the way he kept looking back with wild eyes to see if we would chase him down.

I turned back to my speedster companion, and sure enough, he looked much better than he did before. "It's fine, he's just a creep."

He nodded, "I was never fond of creeps."

We climbed up the flight of stairs that lead to the studio apartment, silent the whole way up with Pietro taking in his surroundings and with me being a bit preoccupied with the thoughts swimming in my head. Memories from my past kicked in violently, and I tried to swallow them down.

"Is this it?" He said as I stopped in front of a tattered door with the number 42 on top of it, pointing to it with his right hand.

"Yep." I walked closer to the door, reaching up to the number 4 and trying to detach it from the wall. Apparently though, it was too high for me, sitting just at the tip of my fingers. Either someone had moved it higher, or I'd grown shorter since

Heels. I'd worn my goddamn heels when I last set this thing up. I'd have slapped myself by now if my hands weren't occupied.

Annoyed, I groaned and stood on the tip of my toes. Just a bit more.

"Here."

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his voice reverberating through his chest which was now level to my head. Pietro came up behind me with his taller stature, his height enabling him to reach for the 4 in less than a second, his hand brushing against mine in the process. I blinked, hard, trying to steady myself and grab hold of my thoughts. I felt my face grow hot, warmth spreading through my skin like fire.

I tried not to make it obvious, how much his skin contact had bothered me. I felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it, and even more so that it was caused by him. What the hell? My throat felt tight, so I cleared it with a cough and put on a neutral expression seamlessly.

He backed away as soon as he grabbed hold of the number, twirling it around his fingers with a playful, lopsided smile. Holy shit, I want to rip it off his face. Just punch the living shit out of him.

"Hmm, maybe you're not that useless after all." I scoffed.

He grinned, "Well, if the grouch hadn't been here, it would've taken you all day to reach for this thing."

"Huh, so you admit you are a grouch."

"I didn't—Whatever you say, gnome."

"Wow, look at you." I snickered. "Practicing sarcasm are we? Pray, do tell, was I your inspiration?"

He shook his head in defeat, then he flipped the 4 over, eyebrows meeting in the middle. "What is this anyway? Some sort of secret hidden in here?"

Classic topic changer.

"Yes," I snatched the sign from him. "A very important secret actually."

I turned the thing around and pressed hard on the back of the long vertical line with my nails, breaking the plastic cover. It gave in with a little bit of pressure, and I dug my fingers in to pull out the slender, metal object that I had hidden 2 years ago.

"Ah. The key." Pietro looked impressed.

"Smart, isn't it? It's an old trick that I stole from a woman in Amsterdam."

He moved closer, and I felt myself flinching a little, afraid my body would have the same reaction that it did just a few seconds ago. Luckily, he didn't notice how distressed I was.

"Why bother though, if you weren't going to keep the key with you? Why not just kick down the door or climb in through a window or something?"

There he goes again, with his perpetual rambling.

"We're 4 floors up idiot, climbing in through the window is too risky, people might see and I might fall and die, which is not very ideal, in case you haven't figured that out yet." I inserted the key into the lock and twisted it, hearing the clack of the latch and bolts as they moved.

"Plus, I just did it for fun. I never even knew if I'd come back here or if this building would even still be intact by the time that I did."

He didn't take up the trouble to reply, or even if he did, I didn't hear him. The moment the door opened and I stepped foot inside the room, I was immersed in the haze of my past. A version of my life that was drastically different to the one I had now.

My emotions were all over the place.

A cloud of dust covered the room from years of vacancy, our shoes creating imprints onto the floor. I was surprised no one had broken in for the whole 2 years. Somewhere in the back of my head though, the memory of me threatening the landlord popped up.

"If I come back and I find out that my house got fucked up, I won't hesitate to drive this knife through your chest."

It's a wonder how far a knife and few sharp words could get you.

"Looks like it needs a bit of vacuuming, just a bit. But that's just my opinion."

I fumbled around for something hard and chucked it at Pietro's head with full force, earning an 'Ow!' immediately after.

"What was that for?"

"I've been meaning to throw something at you for a while now." I shrugged, then continued to explore my previous home even further.

It was exactly as I left it, minus the accumulated bits of dirt and the herd of dust bunnies. I walked to the small kitchen space, opening the cabinets and finding the slightly dented kettle and the 2 mugs I had kept there, untouched. Then I fished around the drawer beneath it and eventually found the box of—hopefully unexpired—tea packets and some Sweet'N Low's.

My fingers clasped around the faucet knob and turned, waiting for a good minute for running water. "Come on, come on..."

After some violent sputtering and grumbling from the sink, out came the water flow. Yes! I cheered mentally.

Then I turned to the silver-haired grouch, gesturing to the tea packets I held between my fingers. "Care for some tea?"

He shrugged, "Only if you won't poison me."

taglist: @ifilwtmfc

[geshertzarmeod]

red white & royal blue characters as jeremy jordan performances on youtube (karaoke AU?)

Alex Claremont-Diaz: 

“It’s All Coming Back To Me Now” 54 Below (Jan. 2015)

This is the reason I made this post in the first place. Honestly this is my favorite YouTube video and it’s an emotional rollercoaster and you just know Alex would have this energy, would enjoy teasing his audience, would play into every single piece of tension possible, would live for the attention. The drama!!!! Henry's sweating. Alex can tell. Nora, Bea and Pez are singing backup, and Alex does the flirty eye contact thing at the end with Nora, Bea, and lastly Henry, who blushes up to his ears and barely controls himself from surging forward and kissing Alex.

Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor: 

“Total Eclipse of the Heart” 54 Below (May 2015)

Nora and Bea sing backup (turn around bright eyes) and Henry loses himself in the performance bit by bit. He feels it he is emoting he is letting go. And the audience lives for it, just like Don’t Stop Me Now. Alex is transfixed, captivated. The occasional drunk stumble... doesn’t change that, it’s even more endearing. And because Jeremy Jordan isn’t a homophobic coward like Michael Bublé, he kept the extended version lyrics of:

Every now and then I know you'll always be the only boy who wanted me the way that I am Every now and then I know there's no one in the universe as magical and wonderous as you Every now and then I know there's nothing any better and there's nothing that I just wouldn't do

And Henry... Henry means every word.

I really need you tonight Forever’s gonna start tonight

Percy “Pez” Okonjo:

“Don’t Speak” 54 Below (May 2018)

The drama. The amount of playing with the audience that happens in this video holy shit. Pez lives for it. He keeps glancing at June at his most dramatic moments, when the audience goes silent at the edge of their seats waiting for him to continue. At around 2:30, the, “who are we?” is absolutely to Henry, who is maybe air-playing piano. Nora is up and dancing... for some reason I feel like she’s doing body rolls at him as they wink at each other and look at June. At 4:30, “Stop fucking playing,” and then falsetto.... this song is Pez 100%.

June Claremont-Diaz:

“She Used To Be Mine” MCC Theater MisCast Gala (March 2018)

June knows how to have fun, but I also feel like she’d be one to go for a karaoke song with emotional depth like this, for a little catharsis, a safe way to let out a bit of the pent up feelings of frustration, anger, resentment, regret, wishfulness, she has about her situation, about what her family’s position means for her life and her career and her relationships, about what she used to dream for and how she has to adapt it now. She gets to let a little of it out, and have it be seen, and almost recognized, almost understood. This is another one where she’s just singing at first but by the end, she’s there. She’s in it. Bea is screaming louder than anyone else, because she feels it too. Nora kisses her cheek after. (also I feel like June’s a Waitress fan anyway, so she knows the song well)

Alex, Nora, and Pez (or alternatively, Pez Bea and June):

“Under Pressure” with Andy Mientus and Krysta Rodriguez 54 Below (March 2015)

The vibes are just immaculate. The cues Andy keeps missing and how Krysta and Jeremy are giving their all while he’s just having a great time. It’s either Alex = Andy, Nora = Krysta, Pez = Jeremy, OR June = Andy, Bea = Krysta, and Pez = Jeremy. With maybe an added falsetto from Pez.

Beatrice “Bea” Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor:

“High and Dry” 54 Below (March 2015)

Unfortunately, I didn’t really find a performance that felt right for Bea. I think she could have done Total Eclipse, possibly? But that felt like a good one for Henry, especially considering Don’t Stop Me Now. Anyway. Maybe she’d sing this? She, like June, could use a good old cathartic sing of a darker song.

Tumblr won’t let me embed more than five videos, but click the link!

Nora Holleran:

“Semi-Charmed Life” Elsie Fest (Oct. 2017)

As I said for Bea, I couldn’t find a perfect song for Nora where it felt like the way she would perform it, and also a song she would actually pick. But it’s like, halfway there on both! I can see her choosing this, and see her performing it in a similar way to him - with confidence, and not doing as much face acting as other More Dramatic Performances I’ve included so far. She just rocks it!!!

Tumblr won’t let me embed more than five videos, but click the link!

Bonus:

Liam, having his gay awakening four(?) years before Alex:

“I’ve Told You Now” 54 Below (April 2015)

Henry and Alex’s wedding song:

“At Last” Elsie Fest (Oct. 2017) 

[damnzawa]

DEMON SUMMONING 101 — A. SHOUTA

Warning(s): SMUT SMUT (badly written one), Dom!Aizawa (?)

Note(s): Holy shit &#*&(@ this was my first time writing smut so please pardon my french. This was requested by lovely reader @snapped-chopstick! Anyways, enjoy I guess haha... (drowns in holy water) Also requests are open! Even for the AU FEST!

—

You never intended for any of this to happen. You just stumbled upon that weird book and did one of those rituals just for shits and giggles. You never expected it to actually work. Heck, you don't even know what it did! All you know was when you opened your eyes, a black-haired, onyx-eyed, handsome looking human(?)—you weren't sure—appeared infront of your eyes, rambling about being a demon servant or whatever. You were pretty sure you were gonna die on the spot.

Were you hallucinating? Maybe. Did someone put magical mushrooms on your pizza? Maybe.

All that's certain is that the human/demon, whatever, wasn't going to leave you alone.

"Why can't you just go? Is this like a punishment for accidentally summoning you?" You asked him one morning as he was preparing breakfast for the two of you. Although you hated to admit it, his presence was kinda growing on you.

He's been with you for exactly two months now. He never left your side—except when going to the bathroom—and respected your boundaries, he never complained about your dingy apartment nor your subpar cooking, heck he never even complained about you summoning him! You were confused as hell. He never demanded anything from you too which was a bit weird since demons or other creatures on TV usually asked for something in return when they're summoned, for example, your soul.

He just stayed by you and accompanied you, blessing you with his presence and dry humor. He stayed by you, a mere mortal.

"I told you. I can't go unless I've fulfilled your wish." Aizawa—that was his name apparently—replied as he flipped a pancake.

"I wished for you to get rid of the cockroach from the bathroom last night. Isn't that enough for you to go?" Aizawa's eye twitched at that. Of course it wasn't fucking enough. Demons usually tasks that are greater than that, like killing the president, protecting the summoner's son until he dies and whatnot. So, yes. Removing cockroaches wasn't enough.

And besides, he doesn't want to leave yet.

"I'll leave once I give you what you truly desire like fame, money, power, even a moon."

"Well I desire a nice breakfast. So you can go now after this." Truthfully, you don't desire anything. You had a nice paying job, a roof over your head, food, air, what's there to desire? You were satisfied with how you live right now. You were happy.

Well maybe except for the fact that you're lonely but that doesn't mean anything.

"Do you want me to go that badly?" No. You don't. In fact, you wanted him to stay longer. You wanted him to stay by your side for as long as you want because damn, he's such a good companion. He's blunt, a bit cold and rough around the edges, funny, and etc. But you don't wanna be that person. It just felt wrong, yet right at the same time. You were conflicted. And him not going away made things harder for you even more.

"Yes. It's a waste of time for you to be here."

"I wanted to be here." Aizawa replied.

"Why though? There's nothing interesting here at all. It's just the mortal world."

"Well, you're in it, right? That's enough reason for me to stay." You were dumbfounded by his answer. Where did this all come from? Why did he say that? Did he really mean those things?

Why you?

"I rarely answer to summoning calls Y/n. Yet, somehow, when you called for me... I got lured in."

"Is this because of my soul?" You asked him, completely serious. You were hoping what he was saying was that he reciprocated your feelings. You were hoping that was the case.

"No." It wasn't your soul that made him stay.

"Then was it the deepest, darkest, desire thingy? What's the reason you can't leave?" Aizawa was now becoming annoyed at your pestering. Clearly, you had been oblivious to his affections for you.

In one swift motion, he has you pinned against the wall. His face was just inches from yours. You stared up at him and gulped. Was this happening? Holy shit.

"You." He simply answered your question before capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. It was full of passion, love, lust. The kiss conveyed what you wanted to know.

Suddenly, you were lifted up. As if on instinct, you wrapped your legs around Aizawa's waist as the kiss deepened.

Aizawa's hands began to wander, slipping under your shirt easily. He cupped your breast making you gasp, earning him the entrance to your mouth. Your tongues fought for dominance, Aizawa being the clear winner. He unclasped your bra and began to fiddle with one of your nipples, making goosebumps appear on your body.

His cold hands wondering your body, touching you, ignited a warmth within your body. Your stomach began to churn as you anticipated what's gonna happen next.

Lost in the kiss, you let your hands wonder too. Feeling him through the fabric of his shirt, eyes widening for a fraction of a moment once you realized how toned his body was.

Aizawa pulled away and looked in your eyes, as if asking for confirmation that you do want this just as much as he does. One look in your eyes and he already has his answer.

Yes.

A thousand times yes.

Carefully he layed you down on the sofa and stripped your clothes off, slowly, teasingly, making your breath hitch. You want him to touch you. You want him now, and all his teasing isn't helping you out at all.

"Not yet, baby." He whispered in your ear as he straddled you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He nipped your ear then proceeded to bite and suck on your neck leaving you a moaning mess.

You bucked your hips against his, creating friction. Aizawa chuckled at your eager self.

"Say what you want, Y/n. Use your words, kitten." Kitten? Shit, that petname made your insides melt even more.

Heat pooled in your lower region while you struggled to say what you want.

"What was that kitten? Tell Daddy what you want."

"I... Fuck me."

"Now, now, Kitten. That's not how you properly beg." Aizawa said teasingly as his hand started nearing the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Please fuck me Daddy." Aizawa grinned at that and quickly removed your sweatpants, along with your panties.

"Such a pretty little thing. So wet for me." Aizawa inserted a finger inside making you gasp in pleasure. Satisfied with your response, Aizawa kept pumping his finger in and out. Soon, he added another. Then another. He kept hitting the right places and it made you feel heaven. You were close. You can feel it. But before you can enjoy the sweet joy of release, Aizawa removed his fingers and licked them, gazing at you with that lustful look in his face.

"Aizawa... Daddy... please." You begged as you tried rub your thighs together, but failed. Aizawa chuckled and kept your legs apart.

"Please what Kitten?"

"Please fuck me." And with that, Aizawa removed his pants and briefs, letting you see all of him.

He lined his dick up in your entrance and slowly by slowly pushed in. You moaned in ecstasy as you felt Aizawa inside you. After a few moments, he was finally inside you, all of him was. He started to push in and out, creating a steady rhythm for the two of you. Your insides were welcoming him greatly, and damn was this heaven?

"Daddy... f-faster."

Aizawa continued to pick up the pace and soon enough you felt yourself clench your walls around him, signalling that you were near.

"Cum for me, Kitten." And with that, you felt yourself release. Aizawa continued pounding into you, his own release nearing too. After a few moments, Aizawa released his seed within you, filling you up to the brim as you both panted. Aizawa collapsed beside you and smiled.

"I think... I think I have that wish now."

"Really? What is it?"

"Stay with me. Stay with me Aizawa."

"It's Shouta. And I'd gladly do so, Y/n."

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I meant to send this here but sent a message instead. Either way 🤣

I know you’re not doing much writing right now, but if you feel inclined to do something anything fucked up for Valentine’s Day with Flip or Captain Blowhole, it could be the sort of fucked up that we all deserve!

Take on Captain Blowhole vs Cupid?!? Like Cpt Hook and Tinker Bell, except Cupid is a full sized ugly ass man with a beer gut like captain Underpants! 🤣

I’m literally writing a fic I’m titling Flip vs Cupid where he has to go arrest a flasher on V Day and has to tackle him down and wrestle around etc

A/N: Holy fuckin’ shit man! The third part in the Siren Series is finally here.... Who the hell am I being so efficient this week! The is the final part and I am so fuckin’ proud of this series I just had the best time writing it out! I hope you all love it and thank you @safarigirlsp for sending in the ask to finish this love fest out! 

Warnings: tw: violence, tw: death, tw: assault (we get slapped as well as we slap someone too), degradation, slight edging, unprotected sex, angst, mutual pining, fluff because I love these two so much, misuse of pirate puns and buccaneer banter, smut because we all love some of that cock talk, mentions of a certain ADCU character entering the mix (the tides will tell us)

The night was long and cold, the depths reaching near frigid temperatures as the Jolly Roger trudged on through the beacon. Frost building on either side of the hull, encasing the wood in a tomb of sorts, causing shivers to radiate from the crew as the soft snow fell around them.

“C-Cap,” Ron shuddered at the wheel, his eyelashes coated in snowflakes as he kept Flip’s course steady and true, “you sure we’re goin’ the r-right way,” he shivered rubbing his extended arm to cultivate some heat while he waited for a response.

Flip coughed, a thick fog releasing from his mouth as he glanced up slowly, his inky locks coated in a slick of frost as well. 

“It has to be,” he muttered, the vortex of the lights cascading around the entirety of the ship in a tube as the snow kept falling. 

He glanced back down, running a quivering finger down the direction of the map, huffing when he noticed the course was tried and true to where his trusty ship was heading. 

His chorus of shudders racking his body upon glancing back up at his lethargic crew, the snow and ice impeding them from their usual performances. The track of light fell where the sea met the sky, the eerie silence causing even more confusion as he noticed the pulsing of the colors in the distance. 

He wondered if you were at the end of this so-called rainbow. If you would even recall who he was, let alone let you be taken by him again. 

The shame settling over him in a veil as he began to worry about your rejection. You were completely out of his league in every aspect, including the fact that you could breathe underwater. What if he had set sail to track you down for nothing? Were you already occupied with another sailor, like a whore? Or was it just not meant to be based on the differences you shared? 

Either way, his grouchy ass had to find that out on his own, rules be damned. You had been on his mind every single day since he’d taken you on those golden shores. Your face framed by the sun lived rent-free, your luscious body sand-covered and begging for him, your gorgeous voice echoing his name as a song in his head. It was all intoxicating and he had to hear you again before he burst into flames.  

The vortex grew brighter and brighter, the sound of an impending whirlpool approaching with rapid speed in the direction of the ship. The crew jumping from the frigid conditions instantly as the hull rocked from the waves picking up and the amplified light. 

“Hold steady boys!” his booming voice echoed through the deck as they scrambled to their stations, little puffs of fog making their way to the illuminated ceiling of the tunnel as they made ready for the next part of the journey. 

“Cap?!” Ron frightened slightly as the wheel took on a mind of its own, spinning a fury while the bow dipped into the water vortex, “Cap what do I fuckin’ do?!” the both of them holding on for dear life as they began to spin down into the whirlpool. 

“Hold the fuck on!” he gritted out, reaching for any piece of wood around them to ground them to the deck, the sounds of cries and yelps radiating through as the boat hurled towards the blackened center of the pool, a bright wormhole opening to glisten in his pupils as they approached it. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit!” Ron cried out, completely scared out of his wits, grabbing onto the same piece of wood as his pal was, “Cap what’s going on?!” screaming at him while he watched Flip fixated on the light. 

“I think it’s the entrance,” he spoke almost calmly, his ship barreling into the bright beacon with the littlest efforts, the entire crew stifling the light from their eyes with hands raised as it was sucked inward. 

_____________

“Daddy what the hell is going on?!” you huffed into the throne room, your parents perched in their rightful places as you blew a huff of bubbles out in annoyance. 

“I was busy,” crossing your arms as your tail spanned below you in a cascade of greens and blues, your hair flowing in the clear water as you scrunched your face. 

“Watch your mouth, Y/N,” he commanded, pointing his trident in your direction, the threat causing you to roll your eyes and brush a hand in disgust. 

After you had returned from your escapade, the torture had ensued. Your father put more pressure on you to fulfill his wishes of becoming married to the most suitable bachelor in the Seven Seas. 

The thought of anyone but your sailor boy making you gag audibly as he showed you suitor after suitor for weeks and weeks, only to find himself more annoyed at your defiance of him. 

“The time has come my daughter,” he boomed, your mother smiling uncomfortably at the exchange, gulping loudly before he continued his power trip over your duties as a Princess. 

“The time has come for what?” scrunching your eyebrows at him in more annoyance as he smirked devilishly at you. 

“For you to meet your betrothed,” he cooed, the bubbles condescendingly falling from his trout mouth as your jaw dropped before him. 

You pushed a finger in your ear, making sure to clean it out properly before answering him back, “I’m sorry… my who?!” your eyes bugging out of your head before you could lunge at him in a fury. 

“You know exactly what I said,” darkly speaking as he gestured his staff to open the double doors, revealing a merman as they escorted him to the side of your father. 

“My sweet daughter,” he pandered, “this… is Matthew… The new future King of the Ocean,” the tall, blonde gentleman smiling as brightly as a guppy while he was doted on by your father. The sight of them nauseating you to no end as you surveyed him. 

Arms still crossed over your covered tits, pushing them out slightly as you inched forward to take him in further. He wasn’t completely hideous, you thought to yourself, his face chiseled and handsome. His body was built heavy and stacked, abdominals straining under his scaled skin as you watched him speak in hushed tones to your father. His hair a cascade of golds and yellows, as the curls satisfyingly framed his face. But he wasn’t your sailor. 

Your handsome, tall, and dark buccaneer. The one with the chiseled features, thick black locks, and a heavy swinging cock. He wasn’t even close to him, and would never be in your mind. 

You looked around while they had their little conference, rudely ignoring your presence as you surveyed the room, wondering if you could make a break for it and go find your love again. 

It wouldn’t be too hard, you thought, he wasn’t that elusive in any sense of the word. You knew his ship from stem to stern, having conjured it back from the depths while he laid passed out on the sand that day. 

Recalled what his crew looked like, grabbing each of them from the Locker one by one to revive them. It would be as simple as recalling his trails he’d left coupled with your gift of echolocation to find him before he even blinked. You considered it. Biting a lip as you darted panicked eyes between the armed guards at all exits. 

“Y/N,” your father cleared his throat, “are you going to introduce yourself to your future King?” he smiled again, extending a hand for yours to come closer. 

“I’m so sorry about her,” he gripped your fingers in a death grip, a hiss coming out of your throat as he pulsed them, “she’s kind of spacey… forgive me,” pushing you to collide with his thick body in a thud. 

“Ow! Fuck!” pushing him off you in an instant, putting your hands over your tits as they throbbed from the collision. 

Another blow to the back of your head via the trident, “watch your whore mouth!” he boomed again, “I am deeply sorry, Matthew,” he smiled fakely again. 

“It’s perfectly fine, Your Highness,” he bowed slightly, “I like my women a bit feisty,” the fire burning in his eyes as he glared down at you. 

“The challenge of it all is… tantalizing,” taking your hand in his and bending down to lightly kiss it, the disgust fanning over you as his lips touched your scales. 

“Y/N,” he cooed beneath you, “it is a pleasure to be in the presence of such… beauty,” the waft of heart-shaped bubbles escaping his lips as he weaved his words. 

You pulled your hand, nursing it as you rubbed the spot where his snake-like lips had touched it, feeling utterly violated as your lips formed a pout in his direction. 

You contemplated for a moment, going over the positives and negatives as you watched him gaze at you, his handsome features no doubt hiding his true identity underneath. You rustled up to meet his eye line, your eyes becoming slits as you whispered, “You will never be my betrothed,” you menacingly growled, fangs snarling in his direction as you watched the flames blaze from a soft pink in his eyes to a glowing red. 

“You disgusting, conniving, snake!” landing a hard slap on his face before a shrill scream left your mother in awe of your actions. 

“You little bitch!” he hissed, watching the anger boil over you while your father lit up behind you in a rage. 

“How dare you, Y/N!” he boomed again, “you’re going to marry Matthew if it’s my last dying wish!” the tears spilling down your face as you spun around to meet his gaze. 

“Make me daddy!” you spat in his face, ready to give him another set of choice words before a huge flash of light interrupted the party. 

The whole group turning glances at each other, “did someone open the portal?” your mother putting her hand over her mouth in fear, cowering behind your father in a fit that made you cringe. 

“Your Highness, I can go check it out… There’s no reason for you to be put in danger over this,” he bravely puffed his chest out like a pompous jerk, patting the top of your head like a child. 

“Stay here my fiery siren,” he spewed, the nickname making you shoot daggers his way as he swam his way out of the balcony. All of you collectively inching out to see a huge bubble encasing a massive ship in the middle of the city. 

Gasps of shocked cries ringing out as passerby gazed in wonder at the bubbling orb floating in suspense, seemingly unphased by the fact it was smack dab in the center of a lost city. 

You squinted, not looking at your slimy suitor but the boat encased in the waves, cocking your head as it came clearer into your view. 

You audibly gasped, the flurry of bubbles and a wave as you placed both hands over your mouth, hoping your parents didn’t notice your surprise. 

“Don’t worry Y/N,” your dad placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, “when he gets back you can ask for an apology… I know he’s a man of reason,” smirking down thinking you were worried for his safety. 

_________________

“What the fuck?!” Flip scared out of his wits echoed as his voice reverberated along the walls of the water bubble. His crew shouting all kinds of curses as they prayed Hail Mary’s over the devil magic that had brought them to their orbed hell. 

He panicked, running from all sides of the ship, rubbing his eyes as he gazed around at the majesty that had cleared around the encasement. 

The city was a beacon in the depths of the darkness. The cool blue waters surrounding all sides of him in a tropical paradise littered with all colors of fish, seaweed, glorious statues, and towers, all centered around a glimmering castle. 

He gulped when he caught a glance of panicked merfolk, the realization that they were circling he and his crew sending him spiraling as he gleefully smiled at his successful venture. 

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” he gasped, “Ron… R-Ron we made it,” he panted, begging his buddy to pinch him to see if he was dreaming. It was just as the books had revealed. The mecca in the ocean was lost to all the land dwellers in a mysterious flash. Yet here he was, face to face with a slew of shocked faces gazing at him like they were the fish out of water. 

“W-what do we do now, Cap?” Ron tugged at his jacket, Flip frozen in place just like his crew as they deadpanned the scene before them of hoards of merpeople all ages crowding around their forcefield. 

“I-I’m not entirely sure,” he quipped back, “I didn’t think we’d actually get this far,” gripping his friend’s hand on his shoulder before shuffling it off of him. He walked towards the starboard bow, coming face to face with a pink-tinged merman. 

The tips of his blonde locks a rose color, his chiseled face looking slightly similar in character to him. It was eerie how close their bone structure was, like looking in a mirror but morphed into a blonde wig instead of his trademark black waves. He cocked his face to the side, the handsome face doing a similar gesture as his pink irises came into a clear view. The slits of his pupils boring into Flip’s golden ones as he surveyed his near doppelganger. 

He cleared his throat, thinking to speak, and then possibly realizing it may not be heard via the separation between him and the mysterious fish. He squared him up even further, glancing down the expanse of his thick chest, rippling abs, and his stark pink tail, whipping in the waves as he noticed him doing the same thing. 

The silent exchange making Flip shiver with unsureness. He had never felt this way. He had stormed a slew of shores in his days, being the young swashbuckler he was, and come across many a menacing buccaneer, and slew them like the stud he was. 

But this… was enemy territory… and by enemy, he knew he was number one on the crowd’s list. The foreigner who crashed into town unannounced, and unwelcome, all to search for a woman. Isn’t that how it always goes though? 

“What have you come here for, sailor?” the haunting voice of the merman penetrating the wall in a clear, melodious tone, like he was inside with them. The crew shuddering from the sound, begging Flip to look away as if he were Medusa.

He cleared his throat, breaking from the hold his gaze had on him, gripping the sides of his jacket as he spoke, “I’m here to find one of your kind, merman,” his eyebrow cocked as the man looked unimpressed at his response. 

“Is that so?” he smirked, his fangs slightly showing as his voice, mesmerized Flip even further, “and who… may I ask, would you be possibly looking for 7,000 leagues under the sea?” the man entertaining his stupidity as he pandered to the captain. 

“For your information, fish boy,” he sneered, not loving the condescension in his tone, “I’m looking for a siren…” meeting his menacing stare noses touching the wall of water between them. 

“There’s a million sirens in this town, swashbuckler,” he chided, “you’re gonna have to be more specific… or are you too drunk to remember your own name?” the joke producing a fit of giggles from the crowd behind him. 

“Sober as a stone, Pinky,” dishing it right back to him, a frown emerging from his lips at the degrading name, “Y/N… That’s her name,” the tone of his voice lowering as he watched the fire boil in the man’s eyes. 

“Y/N?” his fists forming as his tinge on his entire body went from a blushed pink to a bright red, turning around to face you on the balcony. 

You gulped, waiting for the mess to start as your betrothed beckoned you with a finger to the bubble. 

“My darling,” he cooed, the flames boiling over as he tried to keep his composure, “you have a visitor,” gripping your hand in the same as your father had done the time before, a hiss leaving your lips as you flashed your fangs at him. 

“You mean, Princess Y/N of the Sevens Seas? My betrothed?” he chanted, the anger completely seething from his teeth as he presented you to the captain. 

Your shocked face coming nose to nose with your sailor in a fit of embarrassment as you realized he was dangling you like chum in front of him.  

“Sailor?” you gasped, his handsome face becoming more clear as your delicate hands touched the side of the bubble, your magic clearing the path to a thin line to see his precious face gaze at you. 

“Y/N?” his heart almost leaping out of his chest as his hands met the spot where yours were on the opposite side, “I thought I wouldn’t ever see your gorgeous face again,” wanting so badly to feel your plush lips on his as you watched his face soften at the sight of you. 

“I’m here, Captain,” you quipped, trying to hide your expressions as the grip on the back of your head tightened from your other suitor. The blood boiling in his hands singing your scalp as he listened to you quietly spoke to your true love. 

He jerked your body away from the wall, the feeling putting you into whiplash as he threw you back, “how dare you,” he seethed, his eyes glowing even brighter upon seeing you fawn over a human. 

“How. Dare. You. Fucking slut!” the explosion of a fireball and a cascade of black bubbles emitting from his head as he blew his top. 

“You fucked this garbage didn’t you, whore?!” he angrily pointed at you, your expression telling him everything as you darted glances between him and your sailor boy. 

He towered over you, lifting a heavy hand to your face, and slapping you with all the effort he could muster, “answer me you fucking land lover!” the tears spilling as you tried to gulp the words out, your silence doing more to egg on his mood. 

“Get your fuckin’ prissy hands off her and fight me like a fuckin’ man!” a booming voice echoed from the bubble, revealing a spent Flip, his jacket and hat torn off in a fury over the show he’d seen. 

Matthew turned, steam shooting from his ears as he watched Flip stand his ground on his ship, “You wanna fight you fuckin’ bastard?!” inching to him and morphing himself to a human in a flash, his tinge not changed as he appeared on the deck, fire blazing in between his fingers as he stood toe to toe with the captain. 

“Let’s fuckin’ fight,” he calmly huffed, his teeth hissing out heavy breaths as Flip removed his sword from his waist, standing ready to fight. 

“Let’s go Pinky!” he gritted, moving to throw the first blow, metal colliding with his fiery fist in a flash of sparks. 

The clanging of blows hitting in tandem as they danced across the upper deck of the ship. Flip bobbed every attack he had, same with Matt. The both of them reading each other’s movements like a dance before landing a crushing blow to the merman’s shoulder, the blood spewing out in a wave that splatter all over Flip’s shirt and exposed chest. 

“You’re gonna regret that, sailor,” his devilish grin spurring him to attack faster and more agile as he landed an equally hard blow to the buccaneer’s midsection. The fire burning his skin in a sear of pain as he grunted a moan, stumbling back up while Matt chuckled at his victory. 

“Had enough?” he pandered, cocking his fiery head to the captain. 

“Not even close, fire crotch,” upturning a smirk as he jabbed another blow to his chest this time, the blade piercing in a spray of blood again as a cry rang out through the orb. 

You watched in complete terror. Each blow getting more and more deadly as they duked it out. 

Soon, Flip was gasping for breath, trying to center himself as he sustained more damage. Matthew noticing him falter under his superiority and making a note as he watched him weakly get back up after the last blow he’d taken to his stomach again. 

“What’s the matter sailor?” he chided, loading up another crushing blow as he watched his enemy pant, his weapon falling at his side in exhaustion, “too much rum?” laughing as he landed a crushing blow to the top of his head, knocking Flip out cold underneath him. 

He smirked, surveying the crew as they stood back, scared out of their boots. He huffed, walking to the edge to find you, panicked and shocked at the turn of events. 

“My sweet love,” he cooed, the fire still burning at a dull roar as he spoke, “you’re going to forget this ever happened… and you will call me your King, just like you’re going to be my slave the rest of your days in this ocean,” his commands cutting you like a knife as you sobbed uncontrollably. 

“Fuck you!” pounding on the bubble wall in a fit as he maniacally cackled in front of you, “I’ll never be yours, fucking pink bastard!” spitting as it fueled his raged laughs. 

“Now, now…” he tsked, running a slick finger to where your forearm was rested on the wall, “I love my women feisty,” cooing again as you writhed in frustration and pain for your sailor. 

Your eyes closed shut as you heard his evil cackle ring through your ears, only to look up when it was stifled by a muffle it seemed. 

You glanced back up, eyes blurred as you blinked your vision back to see what had happened now.

Flip stood towering over the fireball, his sword logged from his back to poke out his beating heart like a skewer, while his thick hand fell over his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he succumbed to the sweet release of death. 

“Heartless mother fucker,” he gritted, driving the sword back out of your betrothed, his limp body crashing to the deck in a thud. 

“Flip!” you cried, pawing at the wall when his gaze met yours, his exhausted body breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he cooed, your tears dripping even further as you pined for his touch. 

“Flip I-I’m so sorry,” you whined, wishing you had the right words to say in this exact moment, “I shouldn’t have ever… Fuck, I shouldn’t have left home!” beating the bubble again in a fit of self-pity as you watched him wince gripping his side in pain. 

“Don’t ever apologize, sugar,” he cooed, the pained smile coming over his face as he limped over to you, “you’re the best adventure I’ve had,” putting a hand to meet yours on the wall again, both foreheads leaning to meet too as you both exhaled in adoration of each other. 

“I-I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admitted, his hushed tone so low that only you were able to hear it. 

“Neither have I,” you whispered in the same tone, the smiles and fits of laughter falling over the both of you as the tears kept rolling. 

“Can ya come with me? I need you… More than I care to admit,” he bashfully shied away, your face curling into pure joy as you realized what he had asked of you. 

“You mean… Forever?” biting a lip to hear him beg for you. 

“Well I didn’t fuckin’ cross the entire ocean, go down a tunnel of doomed light, swirl into a fuckin’ whirlpool, and fight pinky over here to just ask for one more night of sand sex,” kicking the limp noodle on the ground in a huff. 

You laughed out loud, the bubbles leaving your mouth before you placed your finger over it in embarrassment. 

You turned to glance at your parents, who, by now, had ventured through the crowd to marvel at the orb, seeing the debauchery unfold in horror. 

“Daddy?” you questioned, wincing slightly as you turned around to see your father in complete shock. 

“Daddy? I-I,” you couldn’t get the words out before your father wrapped you up in the biggest embrace he had ever given you. Your arms only wrapped around him after you realized what was occurring, the tears now a blubbering mess as you hid in his huge frame. 

“Go,” were the words you heard. You looked up, shaking your head from side to side in denial as you wept in front of him. 

“Go… have your freedom, my sweet baby girl,” placing a soft hand to your as he dried a tear from your cheek. 

“B-but, daddy my duties, I-I,” he shushed you, looking with all of the love he could conjure up. 

“Fuck all of that,” a laugh echoing from his lungs, “I want you to have an adventure… go find something worthwhile… and with someone you love… this place will still be here if you want to come back, sweet thing,” the words spilling from his lips causing your jaw to drop open again. 

“Daddy, wha-,” wondering if this was all a charade to keep you here with them. 

“This lad must truly love you if he trekked across the ocean to find you,” looking to Flip who was registering the conversation before his eyes. 

“I think that says more about his character than any of the suitors we had picked for you,” his voice calm and collected as he spoke back to you. The silent exchange of love between you a welcome embrace to the fights you’d been having since you had turned thirteen. 

“I-I do love him,” looking back to his boyish smile as he stumbled from the pain on his side again. 

“I know you do, sweet siren,” he brushed a hair from your face, “now go… have an adventure I could never have,” pressing his forehead to yours as you both reveled in the peace of the exchange. 

You broke your hug, barreling to your mother who had at this point, sobbed the entire ocean over sea level, and gave her the largest hug. 

“I’ll be back mommy,” you cried, kissing her forehead as you back away from your family, waving at the crowd of folk surrounding you before morphing into your human form and sucking yourself into the bubble. 

You gathered yourself, getting your wet hair back, and shuffling off the water as your soaked nude form came to his view. 

“Hey sailor,” you cooed out, shy as you batted those gorgeous lashes his way, your silky body glistening with water droplets for the whole world to see. 

“Hey there, my sweet siren,” he panted back, gulping some air as he winced in another round of pain. 

“Holy shit,” you gasped, running to his aid, “sailor… You’re hurt,” putting a delicate hand to feel the heat from his abdominals pulsing under him. 

“Nah,” he grunted, leaning on your for support as you walked his down to the double doors of the main deck, “I’m tough as they come, sugar, I’ll be fit as a fiddle in a few days,” wincing in pain again with a groan. 

The crew had been eyeing your form as your cascaded down the stairs, tits and areolas bouncing, bare cunt flashed unbeknownst as you were more preoccupied with Flip and his health. 

You both glanced around, wondering why the guys weren’t preparing to blast out of this popsicle stand. Their jaws gaping as they surveyed your ample curves, Flip’s face inches from a supple tit as he registered reality.

“Mother of fuck!” he got up, the pain in his voice echoed as he stood to cover your body with his, “get hold the sheet and get us the fuck outta here you peepin’ Tom’s!” he bellowed, the boys coming to attention and scrambling with their orders as they were still flustered over your beauty. 

Flip pushed you back into the doors, trudging into his quarters with a thud as he landed on his bed. You went right to work, ripping his shirt off, and tending to his wounds while you both felt the ship take off to the surface. 

__________________

“You know you never told me you were a Princess,” his gruff voice whispered as the night had set over the sky, his body littered with bandages as you tended to each with the most care. 

“Forgive me… The last time we were together it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up,” you quipped back, earning a low hum from his chest to ring out. 

“Matty boy was right… You are kinda feisty,” he quoted the smirk over his lips deepening as he watched your face scrunch in disgust over the name. 

“If you’re trying to get some tonight, you’re not winning any style points by bringing that snake up,” pressing a little harder on a wound to see him writhe in pain slightly. 

“Sorry, sugar,” he chided, “but it’s somewhat true,” he chuckled shying away as you tried to push on another cut to cause him some more pain. 

“Such a smooth sailor,” you sang, your lips ghosting his as you drank in his musk. 

“That’s what they call me,” he dished right back inching his mouth on yours in a dainty kiss. 

The feeling was elating. Your lips connected in tandem as they begged for more, the tongues dancing in your mouths as his hands snaked to grip your bare tits in his thick digits. 

A relieved gasp left your chest, followed by a moan when he ran his thumbs over your peaks, the circles to magical as they coaxed you to straddle his lap with a soft grind on his hardened erection. 

“I missed these gorgeous tits,” he moaned, moving his lips to your right breast and sucking the life out of it before doing to same to the other. 

You fumbled with his pants, pulling his bloomers down in a fervor as his cock sprung to attention, the weeping head falling in the direction of his left-leaning tower. It expanded the length of your thigh, the purple head, begging to be sucked up into your cunt as the precum slid on the inner meat of your leg. 

“I missed this cock of yours, captain,” you moaned, your words egging him on as he assaulted your chest with a variety of bites and bruises, hands gripping your ass with all the strength he had in him. 

You brought it to your entrance, rubbing the tip on your bud as it slicked up the wetness that had formed over the course of being reunited with your man. The feeling of it tapping your bean sending waves of electricity through your spine, throwing your head back as you sat on him inch by delicious inch. 

“M-mother f-fuck,” he grit out, his teeth still encasing a nipple as he bit down on it in pleasure, “this fucking cunt,” his breath coming in hot and heavy as he watched your face fill with bliss. 

“There’s nothin’ like this perfect pussy of yours,” he panted out, your grinding on his pelvis spurring his dirty mouth to spill out obscenities. 

He bucked up into you, meeting your cervix with every push as he watched you edge yourself over him. 

“You like your shores stormed, huh, siren,” he grunted, feeling your walls flutter around him as you fucked yourself into your release. 

“I fuckin’ love this mast of yours,” echoing back as you rode out your orgasm, the feeling of his pubic hair and his tip knocking your spot a magical combination as you clenched around him in a death grip. 

“That’s my good girl,” he groaned out, the overwhelming feeling over your luscious cunt spilling all over him sending him into overdrive as he stilled your hips. 

He spilled his swimmers deep into you, the endless waves of white coating your sandy beach in a glaze as he finished his motions under you. You fucked faces gasping for air as you both came down from the high of the night. 

You collapsed on him, making sure to avoid his wounds as he kept a steady arm around you. Petting his chest as you felt a gush of spend escape your full cunt. 

“I’m never gonna lose you again, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your head as he nuzzled you closer to him. Your leg wrapped around him in a koala as you both closed your eyes in bliss. 

“Trust me, sailor,” you cooed back, letting out a heavy sigh, “I’m not goin’ anywhere now,” slowly drifting off to the sounds of his cold heart beating in your ears. 

____________

HOLY MOLEY I FINISHED A SERIES FINALLY I AM SO EXCITED! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS WHALE COCK OF A TALE! 

taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @mrs-zimmerman, @thepalaceofmelanie, @hopeamarsu, @caillea, @historyandfandoms50, @mariesackler, @millenialcatlady, @thepriceofstars, @roanniom, @kathorax, @driversmutbucket, @clydes-hole, @xxcatrenxx, @paper-n-ashes

LMK if ya would like to be added to the list! All of the love!

[themarionetteanovel]

Chapter Forty-Three - The Not-So-Secret Affair

The air felt hot and humid when Claire and Allison came out of the rear entrance. They ambled towards the docks where several huts dotted the shore. Two boat rentals, a donut and ice cream parlour, a gift shop selling handcrafted soaps and assorted nautical-themed knickknacks, a pizza joint and a hot dog stand. This stretch was quite busy with people and Claire caught herself looking around to see if anyone was watching them. As if they knew.

Allison stopped in front of the ice cream place. “Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you. You go ahead.” That same paranoid sense was intensifying. She hoped she wouldn’t run into any of her friends or classmates down here. Or Adam.

Allison ordered one scoop of strawberry and directed them to a bench in the shade at the edge of the park. In the distance was the booth Claire manned, looking so tiny from this perspective. Beyond was the trail that led along the river and eventually to that underground chamber. She really should be taking that sample of dirt to the police already. She didn’t know why she kept putting it off. Or why the subject was plaguing her mind right now.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

Claire snapped back to the present and gazed up at the silhouette of Fran, recognizable by her narrow shoulders and spiky hair. “Just getting my usual breakfast,” Allison said.

Fran snorted. “Yeah, that’s real healthy.”

Allison pursed her lips, candy pink ice-cream smeared at the corners of her mouth, her eyes glowing in defiance. “Going to the pride fest next weekend?”

Obviously an inside joke, or Allison purposely goading her, Claire guessed, by the way Fran stomped her foot and threw back her head like an angry stallion. “Fuck that.”

“I’m going. I can’t wait.” Allison slung her arm around Claire’s shoulder and gave her cheek a wet, sticky kiss. “Claire’s going to be my date. I don’t need you any longer.”

Claire slumped against the bench, the blood draining out of her head. She caught herself checking to see if anyone she knew was within earshot.

“Seriously?” Smiling slyly, Fran said, “You two got some grinding action going on?”

“Fran!” Allison said, “Oh my God you are so crude! Holy shit!”

Claire braced her elbows on her knees. She could barely hear as Fran said, “I’m sorry. I forgot I was around a first-timer. Oh, wait, I didn’t.” She chuckled, a tinge of malice in her tone.

Allison whispered, “Ignore her. I always do.”

Claire tensed. What if Adam or one of his friends spotted them? What would he think? Or one of Dave’s friends?

“Let’s move to where three of us can sit. You two need some sun anyway. Almost August and you’re a pair of ghosts.”

“The sun makes me freckle,” Claire said. “I hate freckles.” As did most men.

“Aw, I love freckles. Freckles are cute,” Fran said.

Allison rolled her eyes. “Yeah, if you’re eight.” At least Allison’s were light, and honey-colored, barely visible across her shoulders. She had almost none on her face or chest.

They headed towards a picnic table beneath a sprawling oak tree. Claire felt intensely self-conscious. She chided herself. What was she really afraid of? She sat in the shade on the bench across from Fran, puzzling over whether her issue was some form of latent homophobia or she felt she was somehow still betraying Dave. Or Adam. She should have just gone home last night.

Fran took out her phone. She held it in both hands, typing on the screen with her thumbs. Allison was similarly occupied on Facebook. Claire spotted two of Dave’s old friends seated nearby. “Back in a sec,” she said, excusing herself. “Just have to go say ‘hi’ to some people.”

They both grunted in assent. Relieved, she got up and ambled closer to them. Mike, with long course hair pulled back into a braid, had been the drummer for one of Dave’s bands. Darius was Mike’s roommate. She let her shadow fall over them and waited for them to look up at her, then gave them an awkward wave. “Hi.”

Darius’s face split into a toothy white grin against his dark complexion. Mike bowed his head at her. “What’s new, Claire?”

She slipped into the comfort of the past as they caught up on the summer jobs they were working and Darius’s excitement about being accepted into a Master’s program.

“I really miss him,” Mike said. “He was such a cool guy.”

“I miss him too,” she said, guilt trickling in. She’d bedded two people since his death. She then asked if they knew Sophie. The one who’d gone missing. Darius shrugged and shook his head. Mike rapped his fingers on the table, repeating her name under his breath. A dark expression crossed his face as if from a passing cloud. He elbowed Darius. “She hung out at some of our gigs. Skinny, kind of hippie looking, kept talking about all these eighties bands or newer bands that sound like eighties bands like The Killers and shit. Played mandolin and flute.”

Darius, as if sensing where conversation was going, excused himself to go chat with Fran. Claire’s mouth turned dry as she said, “It’s okay, Mike. I know.”

His upper body seemed to go slack with relief. “I kind of figured, but I didn’t know for sure. They kept it low-key. She even denied everything to her best friend, Mandy, and half the time this Kevin guy was with them so it was hard to tell.”

“Thanks,” she said, sighing. “I just wanted to know more about her, because of her going missing. I never knew until a month or two ago. I’d never heard of her before.”

“Yeah, with you being back home around then, you missed all that. It was local news, but not exactly CNN material. I mean, it’s not like she was seen being dragged into a car or hauled away screaming. One of larger papers had a reporter snooping around but eventually gave up.”

“Did you know her?”

“Only vaguely. My girlfriend didn’t like me talking to her. You can guess as to why.”

Darius returned to their table and reminded Mike they had to go. They left and she kept watch on Allison in her peripheral vision, envying her confidence, her beauty, her poise. She was about to rejoin them when she saw Kevin approaching. She sat, her arms stiff against her sides as he stopped a few feet from her. “Claire, how are you?”

“Hi Kevin,” was all she could get out. She gestured for him to join her. He sat across from her, keeping his distance and glancing over at Allison. Her heart sank.

“Nice day out. Not too hot yet.” He leaned forward, resting on his elbows and clasping his hands together. “You know, I was thinking about you the other day.”

His tone was too lacking in expression for her to have any idea what he was about to say to her, but she doubted it was going to be anything romantic. “How so?”

“You know that storefront two doors down from my cousin’s coffee shop?”

She nodded, and only then realized he was referring to Maurer and Sons. “What about it?”

“I’d always been under the impression the owner had long ago abandoned the place but apparently there is a dollhouse that’s only been in there a few months.”

“I know the one,” she said, her chest constricting. She didn’t see any point in lying. “It looks very similar to that mansion of yours.”

“Yes, it does.” His voice was edged with suspicion. “Anyhow, I saw a pair of dolls this morning inside one of the rooms. One of them resembled you.”

Claire felt suddenly cold in spite of the sun bearing down on her.

“And the other one,” he said, casting his glance at the table where Fran and Allison were seated, “looked like your friend over there. Allison.”

She battled the urge to race straight up to that storefront to see if what he described was still there. Was Kevin a killer? He didn’t seem to be. But then, Ted Bundy had plenty of female friends and was described as charming. Allison’s head perked up, as if she knew she was being talked about. Fran also appeared to be getting up to leave.

“I just thought it was curious.” Kevin’s hands had shifted closer to hers, which were also resting on the picnic table “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“It’s okay. A lot of people in this town have had weird experiences with that store.” Claire was aware they were leaning across the table, stretching towards each other like plants aiming for the sun, their faces inches apart. Their fingers were within a hair’s breadth of touching.

Next thing she knew, Allison was seated at her side, their thighs squashing together. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Yes, Claire thought wishing she could teleport her elsewhere.

“Not at all,” Kevin said, bowing his head to her. “The more the merrier, I always say.”

“Me too.” Allison winked at her. Claire shrunk in her seat. She wasn’t sure what Allison was expecting from her, but Allison’s attention was fixed on him in spite of her claiming she wasn’t into men. Curious how she’d react, Claire took her hand and locked their fingers together. She felt as if she was staking out her territory, or hoping to erect a wall between the two.

Kevin noticed, said nothing, and soon made his excuses to leave. Once he was gone, Allison turned around and leaned her back against the table, pushing out her ample chest. Claire’s eyes kept falling along the length of her body and she forced her gaze upward. She realized with shame that she’d taken Allison’s hand because she was loathe to see her and Kevin hooking up.

“Nice day out.” Without warning Allison bolted upright and scrambled for her purse. “Oh, shit—I’m supposed to meet Ted at two for rehearsal—what time is it?”

Claire checked her phone. “Ten past.”

She pecked Claire’s cheek. “I'm sure he wouldn’t mind if you come hang out …”

“It’s okay,” Claire said, accustomed to spending her Sundays alone. Back when she was with Dave, he used to sleep in until late afternoon.

“Call me later! Promise?”

“Call you?” she asked, an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. She wondered if taking Allison’s hand had given her the wrong idea. All morning she felt as though she’d roused in some alternate universe where she had gone to bed with a woman and where an old colonial town was buried beneath a street she walked along nearly every day.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Allison gave Claire one last kiss, on the lips this time, and hurried off. 

[jlf23tumble]

July fic recs? 👀

I loveeee that emoji, it’s so cute and nosy, I respond to it on a visceral level, this is literally me anytime a friend of mine indirects someone (only I cannot unlock the mystery of using emojis on Tumblr, so I just go, “Who ya indirecting //insert nosy emoji eyes//???” Oh, me.) I’m actually a teensy bit behind on some fic in my “to read” pile (longer fic for the most part) because I’m a genius who decided to run a fest in the middle of my biggest work month EVER, but I’m sure I’ll catch up on those outliers soon--in the meantime, I *do* have some fics I read this month that I absolutely loved. Enjoy!!!

I’ll start with the baby I birthed this month, @momrryfest2020!!! I just posted the author reveals, so go here and read every single one of 'em, holy SHIT, they’re so good!!! Lactation! Regular mom stuff! Pregnancy hi-jinks! Insanely amazing pairings!!! Definitely worth the time, they’re all short! And as a related bonus, two superstars originally wrote longer fic, withdrew those stories, posted them outside the fest, THEN CAME BACK and wrote shorter ones so we’d have a full roster--my heart swells every time I think about it, tbh. So yes, highly recommend Donor-Conceived by @jaerie and The Baby Whisperer by @jacaranda-bloom!!

Shot, by @sashinalash, 751 words, Harry/Louis. This is part of the @wordplayfics challenge, and I think it’s one of my faves??? A stream of consciousness that describes the chaos of Harry’s camera roll.

Knife’s Edge, by @sadaveniren, 1.4k, Harry/Louis. Another one in the wordplay series, but ALSO part of this author’s series about people on the BDSM scene who are also parents. Each installment is a gem, but this one? NICE!!!!!

serotonin stole the moment, the best of me was left under the bedsheets, by publunchesownmyass, 2.5k, Harry/Louis. One of my fave newer authors, I’m so glad I subscribe because I was blessed with so much this month? Perfectly bite-sized, too!! This one imagines a BTS during one of Louis’s recent interviews (with sexi results).

Girl you can bend me, shape me, make me, by enbyharry/ @non-binharry, 3.5k, Harry/Louis. Godddd, I love Asia, who said, u know what? I’ll write a bl fic, but Harry’s gonna be massively pregnant, and it’s gonna kill every annoying characterization in the genre, and I think that’s neat (p.s. I LOVE YOU, ASIA)

i moustache you a question, but i’ll shave it for later, by adoreloux, 3.9k, Harry/Louis. The banter in this one, all the names Louis has for Harry with a 70s porn stache, good stuff!

Dreams and Stars, by objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 4k, Gimli/Legolas. Look, these people could be called Barfli/Armslice, and I’d still read it and LOVE IT, and I’m still bowled over that this is only one of 150 or so E fics in this pairing??? It ticks so many boxes, I’m really fascinated with the rest, tbh.

the one that keeps the dream alive from the morning, past the evening, by publunchesownmyass, 4.3k, Harry/Louis. Banter banter banter, this author and dialogue, swoon!! 90s AU? Swoon even more!!

Compromised, by AlchemyAlice, 5.7k, Napoleon/Illya. I literally YELLED when I got this notification, one of my favorite series authors posted something new??? That’s old/unreleased? But new? BRB, gotta reread that collaring series!

mon petit, little one, by publunchesownmyass, 5.6k, Harry/Louis. I think there are least three (3) seriously great fics about Harry getting fucked in that sweater, and i am here for ALL OF THEM, two of my fave fandom authors have now done it, even better! YESSSSSSS!

All Night Long, by objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 62k, Bard/Bofur. This one’s a wip, and I’m hashtag blessed I get to edit and thus get all the sneakpeeks and ability to yell in the google doc about it, IT IS SO GOOD!! Oh, Bofur! Oh, Bard! HIGHLY RECOMMEND, you definitely don’t need to see the movie to fall in love with this story and these two dum-dums.

....and I literally just started to look at A Sweeter Place, by anonymous, which is older Harry/Louis and one of the ones in the “to read” pile, so you’re getting an up-to-the-minute snapshot, ha!

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Day The Sun Fell - Chapter 1

pairing: logan/patton words: 4478 story summary: “The story of Logan and Patton from the day they met, to the day the sun fell.

(aka the story of logan and patton told a bit out of order. also the apocalypse happened, which is weird huh?)

warnings for both chapters: swearing; fighting; sad, apocalyptic vibes in general; sickness; implied death(s)  

a/n - hello! this is a repost of a semi-old fic of mine that is written in like a non-linear format, which is always super fun ~ 

i will be linking the next chapter at the end of the chapter, and the masterlist + the link to the entire work on ao3 here if you’d like it :)

stay cool, u cool cats ✨

[read on ao3]

[masterlist]

---

Logan stood at the edge of the cliff, facing only Patton and nothing else. 

It was illogical– no, stupid to look anywhere else. Below them was a sea of nothing and above them was a sky full of anything ; though it wasn’t as reassuring as one would hope.

But in front of him was everything , because in front of him was Patton. 

Sweet, sweet Patton. 

Logan wrapped his arms around Patton’s waist, which was shaking with the rest of his body. He was in full sobs now. He sighed, pressing his forehead to Patton’s. 

“Shhh,” he whispered softly, closing his eyes. He could feel the sun beat on his back. He pulled Patton closer to him. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“I-I–” Patton’s words came out as mere husks of what should be words. Logan shook his head.

“ It’s okay ,” he said again. 

“I-I’m so scared. ”

“I know.” 

“What if one of us lives ?” Patton murmured, his sobs wracking his entire body. He doubled over into Logan’s chest, throwing his arms around Logan as if he was hanging onto the only lifeboat on deck. “W-What if one of us lives and– and you are dead and–” 

“Patton…” 

“I don’t want to be alone.” Patton was clinging onto him. Tears were streaming down Logan’s face now. He took a deep breath and simply tilted Patton’s chin so he could look up at him. 

“You’re not going to be alone.” The winds roared louder now. Despite now being face-to-face with Logan, Patton was squeezing his eyes shut, shaking at the noise. 

Logan could feel Patton’s heart race, they were so close.

(He tried to memorize the ba-bump, bump, bump of his heartbeat. He tried to focus on it, make it the last thing he remembered, tried to remember that he was his– )

“ God, I-I hate this.” Logan felt his heart breaking at Patton’s broken voice. “I wish–”

“ No, ” Logan said firmly. Patton opened his eyes and looked at him. Even when he was squinting, Patton's brown eyes seemed so wide and filled with so much wonder. 

Logan moved his arms from Patton’s waist to his back, enveloping him into a tight hug. He could barely keep his eyes open from how bright it was. 

Still, he did his best to look at Patton.

(It’s all going to be okay, he was with him. )

“You didn’t need to wish for anything else,” Logan finally said. “Things went just as they were supposed to, you know?”

He buried his face in the crook of Patton’s neck. “ I’m so happy. ”

Suddenly, Patton’s cries turned from broken to overjoyed, almost instantaneously. 

And then, Patton laughed.

It was interspersed with coughs, yes, but he was laughing. Logan didn’t know how long it was since he last heard that laugh; but it’s apparently still the same, because now he’s laughing too. 

Logan pulled back slightly, his eyes burning from keeping them open. Behind Patton was a blinding flash of white. And that’s how Logan knew they were going to be okay.

“I love you,” Logan said with a teary smile. He felt the heat crawl against his skin. He let out a shaky laugh as he hugged Patton tighter. He said it as if it was suddenly the only thing he knew how to say. “Patton Morgan, I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

It was so bright–  so bright– but Logan swore he could see Patton smile too. 

“I-I love you too, Lo.” 

( Ba-bump...ba-bump…bump… … …)

It was the last thing Logan heard before the sun finally fell: 

“I’ll see you soon.” 

---

“Oh. My. Stars. ”

Patton blushed furiously as Roman leaned over the coffee table with what looked like hearts in his eyes. 

“Romannnn,” Patton whined. 

“Pattonnnnn!” Roman sing-songed in response. Patton broke into a giddy grin, burying his face into his cup of tea. He could feel himself going warm. 

“This man sounds like an absolute dreamboat! ” Roman batted his eyelashes. “Now, pretty pretty pleeeease tell me more about your fabulous first date?”

“I’m telling you,” Patton sipped his tea, a bit embarrassed, “it was just a regular first date.”

“Oh come on, Ra- pun -zel,” Roman groaned dramatically. “Let down your hair! ”

“...what?"

“Just loosen up, would you? You looked like you just died talking about what he looks like — I feel like you can talk about what you guys actually did without kicking the bucket?” 

“Fine, fine!” Patton giggled. “You’re going to be really disappointed though.” 

Roman shot him a wide smile. “I don’t think I could be.” 

Patton rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Well after we exchanged numbers at the library, we went out for coffee– which didn't really feel like a date, but it was something, you know? And it did lead to us texting non-stop for like, a week.” Patton smiled fondly. “It was all pretty casual, nothing more than just talking about what we did and what TV show we were watching at the time. He–” Patton laughed a bit to himself. “He was actually watching this nature documentary about penguins and he said something like–”

“ ‘ Oh, Pat, I am so horny for you, but I’m going to talk about this penguin shit so you can give Roman a snooze-fest of a story’ ,” Roman finished for him. “Is that what he said, Pat? Huh?” 

“Roman!” Patton gasped, going beet red. He swatted Roman away with a blush.

“What?” Roman laughed, leaning back in his seat. He put his arms up defensively. “Is it because I’m right?” 

“You’re starting to sound like your brother,” Patton teased. Roman gasped dramatically, making a small, offended squeak. He tossed his signature red scarf over his shoulder. 

“Fiiiine.” Patton laughed. “If you must know, we just went to McDonald’s and ate dinner in his car.” 

“McDonald’s?! ” Roman shrieked. “You had your first date at McDonald’s ?!”

“It was a busy night for the restaurant we were planning to go to!” Patton said defensively. “He wanted to take me to some high-end place, but we were like thirty minutes in and the waiting lounge only got busier–”

“There was a lounge?! You passed on a place with a lounge?!”

“–so when he noticed I was getting antsy, he offered to take me somewhere else.” Patton smiled, as if he was taken somewhere else for a split second. “I sorta panicked when he asked me where, so I said McDonald’s. He was really sweet about it though and– well, it kinda worked out because we talked a lot!” 

Patton looked down, almost embarrassed. 

“It...it was all really lovely.” A pause. “ He’s really lovely.”

“Oh, Pat! ” Roman cried out, the grin on his face only growing. He jumped out of his seat and went over to Patton, practically dragging him out of his chair. Patton squealed as Roman spun him around.

“I’m so happy for you and your summer romance, Count Dorkula.” Roman sighed dreamily, spinning Patton into an embrace. He pulled back slightly so that he was facing Patton, mere inches from his face. 

He gripped his shoulders firmly and with a soft smile, asked, “Are you happy?” 

Patton paused, looking down at his shoes. There was still a bit of red on them from when he spilled ketchup on it the night before. 

He smiled. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I am.”

---

Logan walked back into the apartment carrying logs of firewood, a brown bag slung around his shoulder. He laid the logs onto the floor, catching the attention of Patton. 

“ Logan. ” He stood up as soon as he saw him. Logan already knew how this was going to unfold as soon as he saw Patton’s face.

“I know, Patton, before you say anything–”

Patton stormed up to Logan, who calmly set his bag down. 

“How could you just– just leave?” Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Patton, I had to,” Logan said, trying to stand firmly alongside the words he was saying. 

“Don’t give me that shit ,” Patton growled, but it sounded weak in the midst of his tears. Logan felt himself grow tense. 

“You have been miserable, Patton,” he said coldly. “What the hell was I supposed to do? I had to do something, I had to fix it somehow–”

“Fix it?!” Patton laughed, almost manically. “Holy– is that really what this is about? You just wanted to fix me?! ”

“Patton–”

“You didn’t know so you– you thought you could just leave?! Did you think that– that leaving for a week to find fucking Roman would suddenly fix the whole fucking world?! Is that really what you thought?!”

“You’ve been worried about him for days, I couldn’t just sit and watch you cry yourself to sleep every night, please try and be logical about thi–”

“You left! ” Patton’s shriek echoed around the room. “D-Don’t you understand?! Like– like, really think about it for one fucking second. You fucking left. ”

He was pacing back and forth, as if he was deciding whether or not he could even look at him. His movement caused the blanket hanging on the wall to lift slightly, showing glimpses of the outside world. 

Logan stiffened at the sight.

“Patton–” 

“You should be dead! ” Patton cried out, pointing at Logan almost hysterically. Logan didn’t move. “A-And for what?! For him?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

“He’s your best friend –”

“You’re all I have!” Patton screamed. Logan fell quiet, staring at Patton. His hand was still outstretched, pointing at Logan. It felt like some sort of sick accusation. 

“Y-You’re…” Patton let out a loud sob, sinking to his knees and breaking down into tears on the cold, ashen floor.

“Patton…” Logan whispered, kneeling in front of Patton, who was slumped over on the floor. His sobs made what seemed like an earthquake spread throughout his entire body.

“D-Don’t you understand?” Patton’s voice was muffled by the floor, but Logan heard the sound of Patton breaking down into sobs almost too clearly.

“Y-You’re all I- I have left,” he whispered through his tears, “a-and...and y-you fucking left .”

Logan suddenly felt warm tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“I…” 

But he didn’t end up saying anything. Logan lifted Patton gently, letting him lean against his shoulder as he cried. 

They sat like that for hours. They sat on the cold floor of their home, holding each other. The day passed them, painfully slow, and they just sat there.

And no one left.

“D-Did you find him?” Patton eventually asked. 

Logan looked at him, almost numbly. He then reached over for his brown bag, still lying on the floor, and pulled it closer to him. 

He pulled out a few things; canned preserves, bottles of water, soap– anything he could have grabbed on his way to where Roman was. 

Then, he pulled out a red scarf.

Patton stared at it, sitting in Logan’s hands. He stared at it as if he was secretly in there, woven through the fraying ends of the fabric. 

Patton stared at it as if he was looking at it,

(lying neatly underneath the Christmas tree, all those years ago)

as if it were brand new.

And then, Logan held it to his heart and cried.

---

“No way,” Patton giggled as they walked into Logan’s apartment. “You did not say that.” 

“I really did,” Logan hummed, closing the door behind him as Patton took off his coat. “It was...well, it was not my proudest moment.” 

“I can imagine!” Patton hung the coat on the rack. “Sounds like you really schooled him!” 

“Oh shush,” Logan chuckled. Patton laughed and walked into the living room.

It was quite modest in size, but surprisingly warm in feeling. The walls were painted a muted red and the floors were wooden, with a fluffy rug or two underneath a brown couch. An autumn-orange blanket covered most of the couch, and behind it were light bulbs, hung by black wires. Each one was staggered in terms of how far away they were from the ceiling, the warm light floating mere inches from the wall. There was a small, brown coffee table in front of the couch with a vase of red roses in the centre. 

“Wow,” Patton murmured, slowing down to a stop in front of it all. He didn’t even turn to face Logan when he walked up to his side. “Your place, it’s…it’s beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Logan said. More sheepishly, he added, “I apologize if it is a bit messy, I didn’t have much time to clean up.”

“And you have such a beautiful view for someone on the first floor…” Patton could spot a glance of the nearby park through Logan’s brown-framed windows.

“I, um, did the most I could with what I had.” Logan cleared his throat. “Additionally, my mother is an interior designer, hence...well, this .”

Patton finally faced Logan with a smile. “I love it.” 

Patton slowly made his way around the room. There were a few pieces of art hanging on the walls, abstract shapes making up what seemed to be a picture of a warm, sunny day. 

Fitting, he thought with a small smile. 

“Could I by any chance offer you a drink?” Logan asked, making his way past Patton and to the kitchen. Patton, his eyes not following, replied distractedly, “A water would be great, thanks!”

He could distantly hear the water pour into a cup from the kitchen, but he was too far gone to really notice. He continued to make his way around the room, trying to capture as much as he could. 

On the TV stand, there were a few picture frames. Patton recognized Logan in almost all of them– even the ones that seemed like they were taken long before the two had met. He also recognized a few other faces; Virgil in particular, who he remembered meeting a couple of weeks back. 

He suddenly noticed an empty frame sitting next to the other photos. Patton frowned, picking it up. It seemed relatively new compared to the other ones, which were unfortunately collecting a bit of dust. Patton noticed a few remnants of a white sticker. It looked like there was an attempt to peel it all off, but it didn’t go too well. 

Patton smiled to himself, putting it back down just as Logan walked back into the room. 

“One glass of water for you,” he said in an almost regal tone, giving Patton a small smile as he handed him the cup. 

“Why thank you!” Patton giggled, clumsily taking a bow. A bit of water spilled out of the cup as he did. 

Patton looked a bit terrified, but Logan just laughed, shaking his head and giving Patton a small kiss. 

Surprised, Patton kissed back. He became so entranced by it, causing him to nearly drop the glass entirely.

When Logan pulled back, Patton found himself inches away from his face. 

Logan’s eyes were very brown, Patton noticed. 

He smiled. They were warm. 

Patton kissed Logan again, more slowly this time, putting his free hand on Logan’s cheek. Logan grinned in the smile, pulling Patton’s waist closer to him. 

And when they were done with that kiss, they kissed again; the pace growing more frantic with each one. They kissed for so long that Patton nearly forgot that the room– or anyone else in the whole world– even existed.

He hastily set the cup of water down on the TV stand beside all the photos and used his other hand to loosen Logan’s tie. 

Logan must have gotten the hint because he kissed Patton again, guiding their steps towards his bedroom. 

“Wait!” Patton whispered, pulling back when they got outside his bedroom door. Logan frowned. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Patton said. “Yes, everything’s okay, I just…”

Patton then smiled, staring softly at Logan.

“I just want to remember this,” he whispered. Logan chuckled, pressing his forehead against Patton’s. 

“I love you,” Patton added quietly. 

A pause. 

Logan broke into a wide grin, laughing as he cupped Patton’s cheeks and pulled him into the most passionate kiss Patton has ever had. The warm touch spread across Patton’s face as he touched him.

(And that’s when he knew, even if he didn't really know it yet.)

Patton giggled in between the kisses, wrapping his arms around Logan as they went into his bedroom, Logan softly kicking the door closed behind them.

---

“Did you hear any word from him?” Logan asked quietly, sipping some warm water from a small, clay cup. Patton shook his head as he walked out of the kitchen, going over to the couch where Logan was sitting. Logan sighed. 

“It’s been a week now.” Patton said nothing as Logan continued, only setting down two bowls of soup on the coffee table and taking a seat beside him. “It’s unlike him to just...leave without much notice.” 

“Yeah,” Patton murmured, looking down at the table. Logan looked over at Patton and  took his hand. 

“Hey,” he whispered. Patton was squeezing his hand. Logan squeezed back, and Patton finally looked up with him. 

He seemed tired, his stare almost grey. Logan wondered if it was possible for the sun to steal the colour from someone’s eyes. 

“He’s going to be okay,” he decided to say. “We’re going to find him.” 

“Yeah,” Patton said again. He wasn’t even moving anymore, just staring down at his bowl of soup. “Yeah, I’m sure we will.” 

Logan sighed as he wordlessly picked up his own bowl and quietly drank from it. 

It was quiet like that for a while, the two of them drinking their bowls of soup without saying much. Logan kept looking at Patton, who was barely even touching his meal.

“Are you ill?” Logan finally asked. Patton looked up at him, almost darkly. A little quicker, he added, “I noticed you aren’t done with your soup.”

Patton looked down at his bowl then sighed, standing up and shrugging. 

“You can have it,” is all he said before turning his back on Logan, who sighed. He closed his eyes, pulling his glasses onto his head to rub the bridge of his nose. 

He expected Patton to retreat to their bedroom, but Patton just walked over to the huge hole in their wall. He watched him stare out the wall.

“...Patton?” he asked softly. 

“Should we bother listening to the radio tonight?” Patton whispered. His words sounded cold, even as warm air breezed into their apartment once more.

Logan stood up, hesitantly walking to Patton’s side. 

“May I be honest?” Logan asked. Patton looked at him and nodded. 

“After you went to bed, there was a final broadcast on the radio,” Logan said. “It’s wiped out more people than we thought, and it’s moved faster than anyone could have ever suspected.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Patton murmured. “There hasn’t been a reported crash since it happened and that was a month ago.”

Logan sighed. “Radiation sickness.”

Patton tensed up at the words.

“...Oh.” 

“It’s been worsening around the world.” Logan tried not to look at Patton as he spoke. “They said that the overall global temperature is the highest it’s ever been in history. It’s beating its own record each day.”

“So what they’re saying is that it’s over then,” Patton suddenly said. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it felt so sharp. Logan tensed at Patton’s sudden stare. 

He decided to keeping looking ahead at the hole in their wall. 

“We should find something to cover that,” Patton finally said after a bit of silence passed.

Logan frowned, idly looking around him. “Yes, we should.” 

He thought about it for a while and walked over to the couch when the idea dawned on him. He pulled off the blanket, giving it a few good shakes. Dust flew from its surface, but eventually it gave way to the orange colour he was familiar with. 

Logan turned around, the blanket in hand, and held it up as if it were some kind of offer. 

Patton smiled, almost sadly. 

---

Patton pressed his face in his hands, taking a deep breath.

“Patton, I just don’t understand why this is a big deal,” Logan said. Patton finally looked up at him from his place on the couch. 

“A big deal? ” Patton echoed, incredulously. Logan sighed. 

“Patton, that’s not what I–”

“Logan, it’s my parents !”

“I’m just not ready yet!” Logan protested. “How is that difficult for you to comprehend?” 

Patton stood up from the couch in a frustrated huff, circling the coffee table to stand in front of him.

“Because we’ve been dating for a year now!” Patton cried out. He ran his hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. “God, Lo, they ask about you all the time–”

“Just tell them that I’m not ready then!” 

“That’s not the point, Logan–”

“Then what is it?”

“I–” Patton closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t know, okay?” 

A beat of silence. 

“Where are we, Lo?” Patton asked, almost afraid of the answer. Logan frowned. 

“We’re in my apartment.” 

“ Logan .”

Logan averted his stare from him. Patton almost missed it.

“Sometimes, with you, it feels like I’m in a race car” Logan finally admitted. “And– and there’s such an exhilarating rush ; every single lap I feel that wind and the hot fire pushing my car along a-and…”

He paused. 

“And?” 

“...And then I remember I’m in a race car ,” Logan finished. “I’m speeding around in circles and it's so fast and I’m– I’m in some kind of race .” 

“Logan, I’m not trying to rush you into anything.” Patton took a small step towards him, taking his hands into his own. “But we can’t go anywhere if...if you’re not going to take your foot off the brake.”

“That’s the thing, Patton,” Logan sighed; not even in frustration anymore, but in exhaustion. “I...I feel like we’ve been in this race for so long –”

“T-Then we can leave!” Patton broke in. “We can quit, we can drive somewhere else– to some...some island? Look, this metaphor has lost me–”

“I don’t even know if I want to be in this damn race anymore!”

The air around Patton suddenly froze. 

Patton looked at him, wide-eyed and quiet. He suddenly felt too warm. 

And he suddenly didn’t miss Logan’s quiet stare. 

“Pat…” Logan’s words sounded like they were underwater. Patton kept looking down at his hands in Logan’s. They were shaking. 

“How long have you felt like this?” he asked quietly. Logan shook his head. 

“I– I…”

“ Logan? ” He hated how small he sounded. Logan closed his eyes.

“I don’t know,”  he finally said. “I...I don’t even know if this is how I feel, okay?”

“...What do you feel then?” Patton asked. “Right now? Just– tell me how you feel now. ” 

A pause. 

“I feel scared, Patton.” He looked up at Patton with suddenly-teary eyes. “I...I am scared... that this isn’t something I can do. ”

Patton said nothing. 

“ God, Patton,” Logan continued shakily, “we haven’t even told each other that we loved–”

He stopped mid-sentence. 

Patton took a step back, watching Logan’s hands fall to his side. 

“P-Patton, I–” 

“I know,” Patton said. His voice sounded cold and foreign, even to himself. “I know. You’re right .”

“Patton–”

“You’re right,” Patton said again, more firmly. He took another step back, as if staring at something he couldn’t even recognize. “ You haven’t.”

---

Logan sat on a bench in the park, loosening his tie slightly. 

For October, he thought, it is so warm…

Or maybe it was warm for another reason. He had been anxiously bouncing his leg for a half hour now, waiting for Patton to meet him. 

Logan couldn’t help but worry about him, whether or not he was okay. 

Maybe it was because he…

Logan sighed; he couldn’t even say it in his head .

When Logan finally spotted Patton, however, his heart sank. 

He wasn’t okay.  And Logan already knew why. 

“Hey,” he said as Patton approached him, standing up from his seat. Patton stood in front of him, his hands in his pockets. 

"Hi,” he replied quietly. 

They stood like that for what seemed like an agonizing couple of hours. Logan cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. 

“You look...great,” he finally said. Patton didn’t meet his gaze. 

“...Thanks.” 

“May we sit?” Logan motioned over to the bench. Patton looked at it– really looked at it– before seemingly giving in and sitting down. Logan, relieved, sat beside him. 

“How are you, Pat?” Logan asked. 

Patton let out a quiet laugh. “Not great, Lo, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, and he put in such a great effort to sound like he really meant it.

(Did he even mean it?)

Patton shook his head, looking down. 

“You were the one who wanted to meet,” Patton said. “What do you need?”

I need to tell you something. I need to tell you everything . 

(I need you to say it.)

I need it to be the only words I could ever say, just for a minute . 

“My sweater,” he said lamely. “You...you still have it.”

Patton looked at him with an indescribable look on his face.

“...My mother said she wants to give it to Declyn.” Why was he still talking? “She said it must be too small for me now. She was asking where it...might...be.”

Patton smiled, but something told Logan it wasn’t a happy one.

“So that’s it then?” Patton’s voice sounded hollow. Where was the warmth? Logan tried searching for it; in his smile, in his eyes, anywhere. 

“Patton, I…” What the hell was he going to say, anyway? That he–

“Actually?” Patton stood up abruptly. “Don’t answer that.”

Logan snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at him, standing up as well. 

“Patton, there has to be something else ,” Logan said. He took Patton’s hands into his own, and Patton stiffly let him. He could feel himself sweat. “There has to be some other way for me to tell you– to show you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Logan,” Patton said. “If you can’t even say it once ?” He shook his head, letting out a sad laugh. “I don’t know what to tell you. I just don’t think that’s fear.”

“But–”

“You’re not afraid of us,” Patton cut in. “You’re...you’re afraid of something else and I’m sorry , Logan– believe me, I have tried to come to terms with that this past week but...but I’m sorry . I...I’m just sorry .” He paused. “This just isn’t what I want.” 

And when Patton let go of his hands, a piece of the sun crashed behind them.

---

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