#cw finn mentioned

[genghisthebrain]

if i'm in ever a coma just play the audio from all of glee s3e7 i kissed a girl and i'm gonna wake up just to punch finn hudson in the face

[salcreus]

The solution to depression is to have a real good punching session

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

part i: leo

(tags for cw)

~

One: Leo

A Nightmare, A Dream

Amsterdam

So far, Leo had been able to hide the dreams. They hadn’t happened during the nights he’d shared with Finn, but that was probably because he never slept those nights. Not deeply. He’d been too wired by the idea of Finn beside him, and too worried by how the pained lines of Finn’s face didn’t relax even in his sleep.

The dreams hadn’t happened with James on the train, but he’d figured that was because Logan had been just one wall away. Safe. As safe as he could be. Logan wasn’t dead. Logan wasn’t dead, he hadn’t drowned, you didn’t let him drown, you didn’t lose him, someone cut the tracker out, you didn’t lose him, it wasn’t you.

And yet.

He should have asked Logan more questions. He should have forced him to tell him what was going on—why he wanted a direct line to Finn, why he had such a faraway look on his face, why he took phone calls where he barely said a word. He should have seen something coming. He should have forced Logan to tell him.

And now, he was here in a safe house, sitting up on the couch he’d volunteered to take, and watching snow fall in the streetlights outside. Stalling. Afraid to sleep. Logan was right there. It should be fine. But if it wasn’t…

He looked towards the bed, which he’d given to Finn and Logan. They hadn’t slept beside each other like that yet, he realized. Not since Logan got back. The train had been bunk beds. No wonder Finn had laid down so carefully. No wonder he’d kept glancing at Logan as they’d all sat up for a little while, wary of the strange new place, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off so they could actually fall asleep. Finn had managed it. Leo knew his breathing patterns by now. He’d spent so many nights listening to the hitching after-math of a hard cry fade, exhausted.

Logan was awake. He was on his side, facing Finn and staring. Just staring at him in the darkness. He’d shift every once in a while, and it took Leo a moment to realize that he had his ankles tangled in Finn’s beneath the quilt. Leo knew Finn did that sort of thing in his sleep. It was painfully sweet that Logan didn’t pull away.

“Can I ask you something?” Logan whispered suddenly.

Leo nodded. Ten thousand possible questions went through his mind. Some of them real, some of them a fantasy. Yes, I missed you. Yes, I never stopped looking for you.

Yes, Logan, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with the love of your life, too. I’m sorry.

“Was I a bad person?” Logan finally asked. “Was I bad?” He looked down at Finn’s sleeping form. “To him?”

Leo sat up fast, hands pushing into the overly plush couch cushions. Logan, slowly so as not to disturb Finn, sat up, too. He looked so perfect in this light. He looked warm and alive—and a bit guilty.

“It’s only that,” Logan paused, uncertain. “I’m not with you. I know that, I…there are parts of my wedding that I can see.”

“What can you see?” Because Leo was awful, and Leo wanted to know. He hadn’t been there. He wanted every detail. “I mean…No. We’re not together.”

“But I kissed you.”

“No,” Leo said. Exactly was he was afraid of. “No, I kissed you.”

“I kissed back.”

“No.” Leo almost wanted to get up. He wanted to sit on the edge of Logan’s side of the bed and shake him. “It was a moment. We were scared and exhausted and lonely. And it didn’t mean anything. I don’t even know why that’s—something that would come back, I…”

The words sounded like some part of a torn up script in his mouth, ashy and rehearsed.

“You…” Leo tried to think how to explain this. How did he explain, to Logan, about the way Logan loved Finn. About the notes. About 1017 and about the weight he saw Logan drop like a heavy cloak whenever they touched onto English ground again. When Finn met them somewhere, how did he explain what it was like to watch them take each other in, uncaring of where they were or who was watching. How did he explain to Logan that he was the richest person in the world because he had found everything, everything, from ease to lust to comfort to love, in one person? 

“1017,” Leo said. “You asked me to break basically the most sacred rule we’re given because you refused to let him worry about you if something went wrong. You protected him, Logan, at risk to yourself. You could never…never be bad to him. You love him so much, it hurts to look at.”

A brief silence as Logan took this in. No blood, though, so Leo thought he’d done all right.

“That’s how I found you. 1017.” Logan shifted again, pillows piled behind him. “I saw those numbers for months, I just didn’t…I woke up one day and I knew what to do with them. Just like I woke up one day and I knew French was my first language. Just like I suddenly knew my wedding band had been silver.”

Leo involuntarily looked to the hand it had once rested on. Logan was touching his ring finger. “Do you remember what happened to it?”

Leo felt bad for asking instantly. Logan’s face turned so hopelessly inconsolable, even if just for a second, that he wanted to yank the words back in.

“Non,” Logan said softly. He closed a fist around his hand. “No.”

“You could never be bad to him,” Leo said. “When your memories come back, you’ll understand.”

“If, you mean. If they come back.”

“They’re already coming back, Lo.”

The nickname made Logan look up, but he seemed to settle into it. “Not everything.”

Leo could argue with that. He had no way of helping Logan. None at all.

“You have to be patient with yourself,” he said in the end. Logan just looked back down at Finn’s sleeping face.

They were quiet again after that, but neither of them lay back down. Logan began to card his fingers through Finn’s hair. Leo didn’t know if he knew how natural that gesture was. How often Leo had seen him do it.

“You can sleep,” Logan said. “I’m not tired. I will keep watch.”

Leo began to protest, but Logan shook his head.

“Leo, please. I’ll never sleep. I don’t feel like I can.” He looked down at Finn again, then back to Leo. “I’ve been exhausted these last couple days, but now I’m just…awake. There is so much I can see. It’s just—as though it’s out of the corner of my eye. I need…I need to keep letting it come back. Please, rest.”

Leo wasn’t sure how to refuse. He didn’t want to tell Logan about the dreams, and Logan obviously wouldn’t take Leo wanting to keep him company as an excuse. He was exhausted. More than exhausted—the ear-ringing, thirsty sort of tired.

“If you’re sure,” Leo said.

Logan’s half smile brought him almost no comfort at all as he lay back against the couch.

He would pretend. He would lay here, close his eyes, keep his breathing regular. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Out of Logan’s sight he dug his nails into his palm. He couldn’t fall asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was plunged into something cold and deep and blue. Salt water filled his mouth.

It started like it always did. The weightlessness of the open ocean was pleasant for no more than a few moments—until he realized how deep he was.

Holding his breath, Leo looked up towards the glimmering surface far, far above. In his head it was miles, fathoms above him. Unreachable. The panic they were trained to master began to squirm. He seemed to be sinking, too. The light from the sun dimmed as the ocean took over. There was the shadow of a boat up there. He didn’t know who’s. He looked around, as if there was something he could push off of, give himself some leverage beyond his own desperate strokes and kicks—and he saw him.

Logan, his eyes closed, dark hair a halo around his slack face, was sinking into the dark waters below him. Remus was a few feet away.

Choose, something said. You’ll never reach them both. Choose.

Leo turned ice cold. Remus was drifting down, his limbs loose and weak in the water. Leo would have to go farther to reach him, and he’d never make it back for Logan.

And that was always the point when, suddenly, Remus’ face turned into Finn’s.

Leo let out a silent scream of his name. Because that was wrong. Finn had been no where near them, that was wrong, Finn was safe.

Choose. You’ll never reach them both.

Finn’s thick, red hair brushed across his forehead as a current swayed him just a little towards Leo. He was pale. So, so pale in the ocean’s thin light.

Leo began to swim down. He pushed, harder and harder, but it was like there was a force working against him. He stretched out a hand towards Finn, reaching even as his other hand worked to pull himself towards Logan.

But they were being swallowed by the water. He was shaking. Finn was being pulled farther and farther away. The next time Leo looked, he was just a shadow in the blue. There was no more air. Logan’s face slipped out of view and Leo shouted his name, letting the water in. When a sob forced an inhale, the water went with that, too, and Leo scratched at his own throat. He couldn’t see the water’s surface anymore. He couldn’t see anything. Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan. Leo—

“Leo.”

Leo was forced back into the apartment like a bright light being slammed on. His entire body was slick with sweat. He could feel it sliding down his temples and soaking the neck of his shirt. He sat up, trying to gasp for air, but none came. None came. None ever came. Finn was kneeling beside the couch with his hands on Leo’s shoulders.

“What…” Finn asked, frantically looking around Leo’s for signs of danger, of a wound. “Le, come on, what’s wrong. Hey, what happened, look at me, Leo.”

But Leo couldn’t answer. Air wouldn’t come. He couldn’t explain to Finn that everything was fine, it was okay, you’re okay—

“Leo?”

That soft voice. That gentle accent cupping the two sounds of his name. Lay-oh. Drowning. Pale, ocean skin, never see him again—

Leo’s eyes met Logan’s, who knelt beside Finn and put a hand on his chest. His eyes were nearly the color of summer in the wash of the yellow lamp Finn had turned on. Leo tried to gasp, but all that came was an awful, retched sound. His heart began to pound in his temples, he could feel the heat of his neck and cheeks as he struggled.

The crease between Logan’s brow was full of emotion, of life, of worry. It was nothing like the death Leo had seem on him in the dream. Nothing.

Breathe, Leo willed himself. He’s right there, you idiot, breathe, breathe.

Finally, it came back. The air. Leo gasped, then coughed hard, swinging his legs down from the couch so he could sit up and cough again, draw air again, even as Finn put a hand on his back.

“Fuck. God, can you breathe?” Finn asked hurriedly. “Leo? Leo, can you breathe?”

“I’m sorry,” Leo said hoarsely. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Oh my God,” Finn whispered. His fingers were pushing through the back of Leo’s hair now. “Oh my God, Leo. Leo?”

“I’m okay,” Leo said. His voice sounded awful. His chest ached. Blood rushed through him and brought small sparks to the edges of his vision. “Nothing happened. Nothing’s wrong. That’s all me. I can explain.”

Which of course sounded ridiculous to them. Finn pressed his forehead to Leo’s shoulder and let out a harsh breath.

“Leo,” he panted. “Jesus.”

Leo’s arms were trapped between them, but he patted Finn’s side, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m okay. I promise, I’m sorry, I…” How did he explain? How on earth did he explain? “It’s just a dream I have.”

Finn pulled back and stared at him, still horrified. “That makes you not be able to breathe? That’s not just a dream.”

“It is just a dream,” Leo said. He groaned rubbing at his eyes. “Thank God it’s just a dream…”

He peeked through his fingers at Logan, who was still watching him. He still had his hands on him. For a moment, it was almost as if he knew who Leo was completely.

To have both of them sitting next to each other again, looking at him, was more than Leo could ever have wanted. He never thought he’d see it again.

“I lost you in the ocean,” Leo said to Logan. “I lost you in the ocean, and so I’m…I’m in the ocean and you’re below me and you’re sinking.” He had to draw in a quick, ragged breath. He rubbed at his chest. “You’re sinking, you’re drowning, maybe you’re already dead, and I’m trying to reach you and then Finn is sinking, drowning, and I never reach you. I never do and—and when I wake up, I just…I can’t breathe. Nothing is wrong with me, but I just can’t. For a few seconds, I can’t.”

“Why did you never say anything?” Finn asked. “To me, why did you never—”

“Because…” Leo shook his head. “Why would I tell you something like that? That’s a horrible image, I didn’t want that in your head, Finn.”

“Why would you…” Finn rose up on his knees, closer. “Leo. You watched me fall asleep crying and wake up crying for months. And you think you can’t tell me?”

Leo, very suddenly, felt that he might cry himself. “I…”

Finn saw it immediately and put his hand back on Leo’s chest. “You know how bad it was. You know I would have understood. You heard those messages I left Lo. Those hundreds of messages…”

Leo’s eyes widened, new heat rising to his chest. “I—no. No, I didn’t…”

But Finn tilted his head, brown eyes soft and imploring. “It’s okay. It’s okay if you listened. I know they went through you now. You kept us connected when I thought it was all lost.”

Leo shook his head, a surprised, hitching sob clawing up his throat. He covered his eyes briefly and willed it away. “Only when—only when I couldn’t be there. I only listened when I was called away and I couldn’t come over, only when I needed to know you were at least a little all right—”

“All the while you weren’t all right—Leo.” Finn drew him close, pressing their foreheads together.

Beside them, Logan sat back on his heels in a jerky movement, like someone had tried to knock him over. He put a hand over his mouth. Leo looked in time to see blood coat his fingers, and then Logan let out a sound that was half a cry of pain, half a curse. His knuckles were white on Leo’s knee.

Leo didn’t think. He drew the hem of his t-shirt forward and cupped the back of Logan’s head while he pressed the cloth to his nose.

“Shit,” Leo said. “Logan?”

“Oh, Lo,” Finn whispered.

“I don’t know,” Logan gasped. His voice was thick from a blocked up nose and his eyes squeezing shut before opening wide to the ceiling. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Shh,” Leo hushed. “Lo, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

This was too much. Too soon, too heavy. Leo didn’t know how the memories worked, but he’d learned enough to see that these things had to come slowly. Force only brought Logan pain.

“I feel like it was,” Logan said. “I feel—I feel like I knew. Something. I feel…”

Leo could hardly watch him struggle. Leo tilted Logan’s face up towards him to wipe the blood away as best he could. He didn’t realize he was stroking a thumb over Logan’s temple until Logan closed his eyes and leaned into his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” Leo repeated. He looked at Finn, but Finn didn’t seem to mind, so he kept his hand half buried in Logan’s soft hair. “Logan, you didn’t know this would happen.”

“Leo’s right,” Finn said. “Lo, you didn’t know.”

Logan’s voice sounded small. “How can you be sure of that?”

Finn reached out and wiped the last streak of blood from Logan’s nose, then wiped it on his own shirt.

“Because you would never leave me like that,” Finn said firmly. “You never would.”

Leo left them only to splash cold water over his face. He looked ragged and pale to himself in the bathroom mirror. He watched his own chest rise and fall until his breath came easier and his head stopped throbbing. Then he switched off the light and went back into the main room. Finn and Logan were talking in low voices back in bed and Leo made his way to the couch. Maybe he should shower. he was still soaked in sweat. But exhaustion was taking over again.

“Leo,” Logan’s voice came.

Leo looked over his shoulder as he pulled his blanket back. “Yeah?”

Logan looked at Finn, who nodded, then put a hand flat on the mattress between the two of them. “Sleep. Here.”

“I—what?”

Finn patted the space more firmly. “Come here and sleep in a real bed.”

Leo straightened, the blanket falling from his hands. “You want all three of us to sleep in that bed?”

They just looked at him. Logan, a little frustrated now, hit the space.

“Allez.”

Of all the things Leo had expected to do right then, laughing was not among them. Even Finn smiled.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Nothing.” Finn looked at Leo for help.

“That was just…” Leo stopped at the end of the bed. “Very you.”

Logan brightened a bit at that, pleased.

“Oh,” he said, and lay down, folding his hands across his chest expectantly.

Leo felt a little bashful, crawling across the bed, but it was so warm once Leo was under their covers that he shivered and didn’t care whether they were just being kind. Some deeper sort of thaw began to take place in his chest. Finn curled an arm around Leo’s waist, turning into him. He hadn’t even held Logan like that, yet, and here Leo was, wrapped up between them.

“Okay?” Logan whispered, eyes already closing.

“Mhm,” Leo managed to say. Maybe this would keep the dreams at bay.

Finn knocked his forehead gently against Leo’s temple and Leo turned his head to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” Leo whispered.

Finn just put a hand on the side of his face and pressed a gentle, soundless kiss to his cheek, just near the corner of Leo’s mouth.

When he pulled back, that familiar worry was there, but muted. At least for now.

“He dreams about you, too,” Finn said, and closed his eyes.

[unriding]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well!

HI FINN !!!!! it’s nice to meet you hehehe ….. how’s your week been so far!!? super good i hope :> if not,, i am sending u a virtual care package .. full of snacks and fluffy blankets ^^ 🤍🤍🫂

[antlered-dragon]

Alright so I have been working on this for a few days. After I saw duncandeeznuts fanchild my mind really wanted me to create my own so I guess here is mine. Originally it was just going to be just Jay but then while I was at work I had an idea for Bonnie (mostly goes by the nickname Willow) as well so she is here too. And then it kind of just turned into this AU sort of thing.

[all-my-friends-are-himbos]

ID: discord messages between mis, finn, micah, and simon.

finn is quoting a message from mis that says "confess a sin"

finn says: i eated a delicious chocolate today....

mis says: yummy!

quoting mis's "confess a sin" message, micah says: i lied to my mom and told her i finished all my class work for the week so she'd buy me in n out but i didn't i haven't even touched it

mis says: Now you've crossed a line...

simon sends a file called "jesus-walking-fire-front-explosion"

micah says: Forgive me father for i have sinned (cutesy emojis)

simon says: damn it

simon sends the same file as before, except this time it's an actual image. the image shows jesus walking dramatically towards the viewer, with fire and chaos around him.

End ID.

[sad-boy-mono]

Do y'all think Finn is doomed to loose Jake in every universe?

Do y'all think every Finn has their own mind vault they put bad memories and feelings in?

Do y'all think each version of Finn will avoid facing his grief and instead will throw himself into dangerous and reckless situations so he doesn't have to feel it?

Do y'all think each Finn will be haunted by Jake's death for the rest of their lives?

Do y'all think there are universes where Finn was able to heal?

Do y'all think there are universes where Finn chose to die with Jake than live without him?

Do y'all think Finn is angry at Jake for leaving him in every universe?

Do y'all think they meet again in death in every universe?

Do y'all think there are universes where Finn reincarnates alone?

[whump-in-the-closet]

The Scarred Among the Mundane.

cw: mentioned death, magical torture, failed escape, inhuman whumpee

previous. masterlist. next.

— —

Finn wakes to a bucket of water in his face. He jerks upright, coughing with enough force to make his ribs ache.

Freezing water drips down the back of his ripped shirt. With a disgusted flick of his wrist, he pushes wet braids out of his face. Droplets of water are thrown in every direction as he peers up at Verne.

She holds an empty bucket in one hand, flame-red hair bright against the darkness. She smiles. “Good morning.”

I hate you. I will rip your throat out with my teeth.

The sorcerer doesn't seem to realise the imminent danger she’s in because her smile brightens.

Finn bares pointed teeth in a snarl.

A threat for a threat.

Verne drops her bucket and kicks it aside. Finn watches it, gaze darting from the bucket to the closed door.

To the unlocked, closed door.

A trembling hope– the colour of yellow– rises inside him.

Verne’s voice cuts through his thoughts with all the force of a physical blow. “Stand up, elf.”

Snarling. “No.” Finn's eyes never leave the door.

Verne sighs. “Go ahead and try.”

The world stops spinning. “What?”

“Try and escape.”

She’s far too calm for this to be anything but a trap. But the glimmer of hope is now an explosion. He’s on his feet, scrambling for the exit, a fire burning behind his eyes.

“Idiot,” says Verne and she’s smiling.

But Finn’s hand is on the door and escape is so close he can taste it –

His body ceases to be his own. He stiffens, hand falling to his side. Breaths come in odd gasps that are ripped out of him.

He’s forced to turn around, back to Verne and to the cell full of shadows and echoing screams.

Verne’s hands are twisted into wierding shapes. Her smile is unwavering. “Are you paying attention now?”

What else can he do? He can barely manage the required nod.

“Good.”

Finn finds something very, very bad with how she says ‘good’. It feels like a threat. A skin-crawling, mind-numbing horror about to be released.

Verne’s voice is dangerously low. “I’m going to try something familiar first. Perhaps you remember…I used it only two days ago.”

Has it only been two days?

His stomach drops.

“The spell I used isn't supposed to render a human unconscious. It's supposed to kill them.”

She waits for that to sink in.

Finn’s eyes widen. It’s sinking in.

“Did I try to kill you? Well,” she shrugs. “You were trying to burn down the Monarch’s castle. But you– somehow– are still alive. Oh, it's fascinating. I wonder how many other spells you can hold up against…I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Finn stares in silent horror.

“Let's see how long you last this time, my elf-friend.” She lifts her other hand with a shark-toothed smile. “Remember, deep breaths.”

And Finn’s world shatters.

He can feel his body reacting— twisting into a voiceless scream. Crumpling to the ground, legs giving out on him, horror upon horror upon horror. But for a moment, he remains detached.

He manages a huh, that looks painful–

And then he joins in the screaming.

His blood is ice inside him. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong. Everything is wrong. Blood isn’t supposed to be a mountain-range under his skin.

This is his last coherent thought.

Blood in his throat, tasting like an open blaze.

Spiralling darkness. It spikes through blood cells, spearing the crimson red with shadows.

–He is an insect, pinned to a wall with needles–

Finn’s view of Verne’s boots and the scarlet-stained floor starts to fade.

Verne’s hands drop to her sides. The relief of unconsciousness is denied to him. She sways on her feet, wiping away the sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Her hand comes back red.

She looks at the blood. Sighs. Glances at Finn– shivering elf, all shadowed skin and ripped clothes– still alive. Judging by his shattered breathing, at least.

Despite her exhaustion– the mind numbing, void-filled exhaustion– Verne laughs. It dies on her lips.

But–

But the elf’s still alive.

Her theory is correct.

A dozen more spells burn at the back of her mind, demanding to be tested. And for the first time in ages, she’s excited to test them.

“I’ll be back,” says Verne. Not that Finn can hear her.

Finn curls up tighter on the ground, trying to convince himself this is some bad dream he’s trapped in.

This can’t be real.

This nauseating pain cannot be real.

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

[dont-open-dead-inside-net]

Disordered eater Jeff Winger!

[fio-renze]

cw: mentions of child death, grief

Sixty seven years Fiorenze had lived in the manor house. It felt like a mausoleum now, the windows all dark and dressings gone. Perhaps it was fitting. 

The gardens she had cultivated all that time still bloomed, bright and lush. Her well trod paths had started to re-wild a bit without anyone to cut them back, or her to walk them — the gentle buzz of bees and summer cicadas whirring was a small comfort as she wound her way through the shaded hedge maze. 

Invisibility spells only lasted so long, and eventually the gossamer threads of arcane that wrapped around her slowly drifted apart, falling from her as she turned that final corner. Nobody could see her here anyway; she had been careful to plant shade trees and skillfully trellised climbing ivies to create a living canopy above the memorials placed in this far corner. 

Dappled sunlight danced across the smooth, cool white stone inscribed with Finn’s name and the singular date of his birth and death, July 25. It was so small, like he’d been. She’d come here every year to lose herself to the grief of it all for a day. 

Her heart hurt and gave her pause. Was she really going to do what she came here to do? Did it really matter, in the end, where his ashes laid? 

Of course it did when it was somewhere she couldn’t be. Being here, on the grounds, was legally trespassing now. 

The dirt was hard on her hands as she dug around the flat gravestone. She had to get it free. Small as it was she pried it easily from the shallow niche it had settled in after forty three years. Maybe it was a blessing he hadn’t lived to see the siege on the city — he would’ve been a child, and had to deal with losing his father. 

Lord Halandir’s stone was nearby, too. He’d been killed by the Scourge while fighting to protect the kingdom. An honorable death for a dishonorable man. That one could stay where it was until it crumbled. 

She kept digging, clawing her way down through the dry earth. A thousand apologies spilled in whispers from her lips as tears fell onto the backs of her hands. She couldn’t bear to leave him in this empty place that had never been his home. 

Eventually the smooth, carved urn kissed her fingertips, and then her palm. It too was wrested free from the loam as soon as she could manage and wrapped up carefully in a beautifully woven cloth. The only home Finn had ever known had only been her. She’d find a new place to let him rest, one that didn’t hurt so much and felt right, and wasn’t a trial to visit. 

They left together, the grave filled back up and the stone pressed back on top. Tomorrow would still be awful, but at least she’d know he wasn’t alone. 

[cielomist]

why is the biology teacher waxing poetic about the suicidal look in shiho's eyes from when she. attempted suicide.

[bisexualiteaa]

could you do a rough and dirty writing with silco x f!reader? maybe hate fucking? if that’s too much to ask for 🙏

I’m busy

AN: hello dear! It’s never too much to ask for! I love taking requests, they give me a reason to write! 🥰♥️ My apologies that it took a few days, it’s been a hectic week but I wanted to ensure this was good before posting! So I hope you enjoy and that I’ve done your ask justice! 🥺🫶

Synopsis: it’s been a long and grueling past few weeks for the eye of Zaun, when a moment of privacy between you gets interrupted he finds a way to correct such action from happening again.

CW: established relationship, mentions of canon typical violence, brief mentions of smoking, cursing, power dynamic, slight vöyeuristic/ëxhibitionist themes, 0ral (male receiving), fïngering, reader has hair, hair pülling, no use of y/n, r0ugh seggs, d0ggy, unprotected seggs, cream 🥧, name calling, dëgredation, bïting, spänking, aftercare, possible spelling/grammar errors

Normally, people knew better than to barge in the door of Silco’s office when it was shut, typically being enough evidence that he wasn’t taking any visits. They knew especially not to do so without an extremely good reason for being there.

Well apparently, almost everyone did.

So it came as quite a shock to you both to hear his door open, without even so much as a knock, as you sat before him on the floor. Your knees were red and sore from leaning on them for so long, his hand grasping your hair in a messy ponytail to keep it from your face as you were sucking him off. Thank the gods his chair was turned away from the entrance and big enough to conceal you both, effectively shielding you from the sights of whoever was ignorant enough to walk in unwarranted and unwelcome to interrupt your rather intimate moment. They were already few and far between as of late. “I’m busy” Silco simply stated, the deep rasp in his voice a little more strained from trying to not only hide his pleasure, but from the frustration of his orgasm slowly inching away from him now upon the intrusion. “We are overdue for a meeting, Silco” spoke the familiar voice of Finn, making you both roll your eyes in unison as a frustrated sigh left Silco’s lips.

Of all people, it just had to be him.

You should have known it was, no one else would be foolish enough to act out in such a way. The man truly never knew when to leave shit alone, and when he wanted something done he wasn’t above acting like a spoiled brat to get it. He annoyed you particularly to no end, and you swore up and down if you heard him click his fucking lighter one more damn time, it would break into an all out brawl between you two. “We’re due for a meeting when I say we’re due, right now I’m busy. Get out” he asserted, the underlying threat in his tone making the throbbing ache between your legs only continue to worsen as you listened to him scold the younger man. It was an interesting predicament to be in for sure. Your lover’s cock throbbing in your hand as you gently rubbed it up and down, making up for the absence of your mouth, whilst he barks orders at someone. It was quite the sight. “And just what is it that you are too “busy” doing to discuss important business?” Finn asked impatiently as you, unbeknownst to him, brought your mouth to Silco’s length once more, listening as he was not only blatantly overstepping his boundaries where he had absolutely no business in doing so, but also annoying you both in the process with his whining and bitching. Was it too much to ask for a moment of privacy with the man anymore? You had needs too, damn it.

“That is none of your concern. What is it that you think is so important that it demands my immediate attention?” He asked, growing more and more impatient by the second as his dick throbbed angrily in your mouth, watching as you continued to work him, only at a slower, quieter pace to hide what was truly going on. You’d be a bold-faced liar if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind to continue despite someone else being in the room. “Trade with topside has plummeted-“ Finn started to say, but Silco was already having none of it. That’s what he came here to talk about? That was what was so important? What a fool. The man was already annoying enough to begin with, but for him to have the audacity to have barged in, disrespected his privacy and ruined the orgasm you were so close to giving him, was an entirely different crime of its own. “You wish to interrupt and invade my privacy to talk trade?” He asked rhetorically, a beat of tense silence hanging heavily in the air. “Leave. Now. Before I lose my patience” He followed up with, anger lingering in his tone as a warning.

All he wanted was a moment alone. A moment to feel something other than anger, other than stress. Hell, even a place to funnel it into for just a moment’s reprieve would be nice yet it seemed he couldn’t even have that. “What is it you’re so busy with, huh? Too scared to look at me, old man? Because you know I’m right?” Finn asked once more and that was the final straw, his last shred of self-restraint. You watched as Silco leaned back, now resting against the padded backing of his chair, as an eerie sense of calm washed over him that left the air even more tense than it was before. “You really wish to know what it is I’m busy with, Finn?” He asked, speaking the man’s name in near disgust before looking down at you, watching as you looked him in the eyes while licking a fat stripe up along the underside of his length, earning a pleased hiss in response. “Would love to know what’s so important you can’t even look at me when I speak to you” Finn responded, acting all big and bad, but you could tell by that look in Silco’s eyes that he had a plan to utterly decimate that attitude problem of his, to show him he had nowhere near the upper hand in this situation. After all, he was in someone else’s territory. Merely a guppy in the den of a shark; he had no power here, and he certainly had no power over the man whose pleasure sat before you in your hands. It excited you to no end. “Would you? How about you listen close then and you’ll find out” he said, looking down at you as you grinned mischievously, knowing exactly what you were to do.

You gave a devious little giggle that was just loud enough for Finn to overhear, leaving him to furrow his brows with confusion. He hadn’t realized that someone else was in here too. That you were in here with him. Your body coursed with fiery excitement before taking Silco’s cock back into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip before sucking sloppily to make it painstakingly clear what was going on. You moaned lasciviously as his fingers pulled your hair, controlling the pace in which you’d bob your head up and down on his length, listening as you would gag on occasion when he would thrust up into your mouth and go too far down your throat. You knew well that this should not be doing all the things that it was doing to you right now, but you couldn’t help it. Something about it was just so incredibly hot. Between the vexed assertiveness of his tone with Finn, paired with the contrast of the desperation of him using your mouth the way he was, all mixed together with the thought of knowing that Finn was hearing it all and able to put the pieces together on what was happening. It was thrilling and it drove you mad with lust. It’s been weeks since the last time you had a chance alone with the man, let alone the chance to be intimate in some capacity and you were both aching. You watched him lean his head back with pleasure, a deep, raspy moan morphed into a chuckle escaping him that had you absolutely soaked. “What the…you sick fuck” was all Finn could reply with in disgust as you continued, the both of you acting as if he wasn’t even in the room with you anymore, your unspoken plan to make him uncomfortable working absolute wonders. “Then perhaps think twice the next time you decide to barge in. Leave, now. I will not tell you again” he barked, leaving Finn to scoff in disgust and annoyance as he turned heel and left, shutting the door behind him with a loud slam. Finally, some peace.

“Filthy girl” Silco spoke condescendingly, making you moan around his dick as he talked down to you, pulling your hair again as he yanked you off of it to get you to look up at him as he spoke. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He asked, a lopsided grin resting on his lips as he looked you over. He couldn’t help but to think you looked marvelous like this. Streaks of mascara running down your face, your soft plush lips all swollen, red and covered in saliva from sucking him off. Perhaps he should have you like this more often, whether it be at home or in his office.

The growing flush across your cheeks was a rising suspicion that he was correct in assuming, watching as you shook your head yes in response. He gave a hum with intrigue at your answer, unsure whether he was surprised that you would enjoy such a thing, or delighted. Maybe a healthy bit of both. “So desperate for me that you would go as far as to pleasure me in front of my associates? Quite bold of you” he replied, making you only flush darker as your gaze broke, watching your eyes cascade down to look at his length again with such lust and desperation in your eyes. Gods how you craved him.

You felt his fingers tilt your chin up, forcing your flustered gaze to meet his again. You felt ever so small before him like this, so powerless. So submissive. Yet it never failed to stoke the fire burning in your core, because you knew if you were good for him, he’d be good to you in return. “What if he saw you like this, hmm? Would you have still continued?” he asked curiously, making you bite your lip as you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache. “If you’d have let me, yes. I would” you answered honestly, making him groan at the thought. Nothing says power quite like establishing your territory, and being so unphased by someone else’s presence as to continue pleasuring the person before you. That was the ultimate power play. Perhaps that would have worked much better, chased him away much sooner. He’d keep it in mind for the future should such a foolish stunt be attempted again. “My, aren’t you just full of surprises darling” he replied, his tone full of intrigue and delight. He’d never known you to be into such acts of depravity, to be so brazen and bold outside of the sanctity of your shared bedroom. He liked when you were bold. Perhaps liked wasn’t the word.

He adored when you were bold.

“He’s insufferable, the fool” you spoke plainly, your words not only honest but truthful. Truth be told, you hated Finn, he’s been the biggest thorn in Silco’s side for too long now and there had been too many a times you dreamt of him getting put in his place. “He wished to barge in, disrespect your boundaries, and question your authority. He was a fool to not have expected it to have consequences. About time he’s been put in his place if you ask me” you replied, making him hum once more at your answer. “And besides, it’s been far too long since the last time we had some time together. Surely you can’t blame a girl for going after what she wants, can you?” you asked, flashing those big doe eyes up at him as his hand let up in your hair just enough to allow you to lean back down, tongue circling his tip, making him chuckle and groan. You were right, a man such as himself couldn’t hold it against you for having the nerve to go after what you wanted. In fact, he encouraged it.

“You did well to scare him away” he stated, making you hum around him. “He should be killed for ruining my hard work” you responded so seriously, releasing his tip from between your lips with an audible pop before laving your tongue up along the underside of him once more. Your anger fueled words only made him chuckle, oh if only you knew how many times he’d thought about it, especially when he had the audacity to look upon you lustfully in the past. To admire you as if he hadn’t known you were Silco’s girl. Everyone knew, it was laughable to think he could consider himself big enough to be a danger to your relationship, or a threat to Silco of all people. “His luck will run out eventually” he replied, almost reassuringly, merely thankful the man’s voice was no longer poisoning his ears and stealing his oxygen. Now he could return his focus on you, and that’s truly all he wanted. “But now that we’re alone again…shall we continue?” You asked with a look of anticipation and a grin stretching to your lips. “Yes, I think we will” he replied, leaving your heart thrumming with excitement. “Up, over the desk” he ordered, leaving you to do exactly as he said. He watched you lean over it, arching your back perfectly to give him a stellar view of your ass. His hand smoothed across it before coming down harshly against one cheek, leaving you to yelp in surprise from the sensation. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt him press two fingers against the wet spot that accumulated in your panties. “All of this for me? Pleasuring me gets you that excited, does it?” He asked, making you shake your head yes in response, but that wasn’t good enough. Slap! came another hand across your ass. “Speak. You know better” he scolded. “Yes! Yes, all for you. Love making you feel good” you babbled out, feeling him smooth his hand across the angry skin. “Was it just from pleasuring me? Or was it from pleasuring me while someone else was present?” He asked, making you whine with embarrassment as you sought to cover your heated face by letting your head drop to his desk.

He wasn’t a fan of this however, because it wasn’t long before you felt his fingers work their way into your hair once more, pulling on it to pull you up. “Answer me. You know I like being rough with you love, but don’t make me be mean” he warned, if only it did anything other than excite you. “Or is that what you want?” He asked, pressing his hips against your ass, feeling his cock throb against your panty clad cunt. “Yes!” You answered eagerly, making him chuckle deeply as he leaned forward. “Careful what you wish for” he threatened by your ear, making your pussy clench around nothing, desperately soaked and aching for attention.

You felt his fingers loop into the waistband of your panties, finally pulling them down and exposing your heated core to the cool air. You could feel the slick that spread all the way down to your thighs, watching as your underwear hit the floor, still looped around your ankles. “Won’t be needing those” he said before bringing his fingers to slide along your slit, collecting as much of your slick on his fingers as he could before rubbing your clit, finally paying it the attention it’s been craving. You melted beneath him in an instant as he did, ass pressing against him even more as you twitched and writhed against his skilled fingers. “Desperate little thing. It’s pathetic how soaked you are for me. Get one taste of my cock and it already has you mindless” he spoke with a click of his tongue and such condescension in his tone, but fuck if it didn’t make you even more wet for him.

He was right, all it took was one touch, one taste and you could be reduced to mush in his hold. Like putty in his hands, he could do anything with you that he pleased and you’d take it. You trusted him, and he’s gone out of his way to show you he would never hurt you.

You moaned without a care for who could hear, finding yourself unable to stay quiet. How could you when it just felt so damn good? You felt as his fingers traveled down to your entrance, feeling one of his nimble fingers slip past your tight ring and inside before working another in with ease. He loved the sight of your cunt stretched around his fingers almost as much as the sight of it wrapped around his cock. You writhed and moaned as he curled his fingers within you, finding all of those spots that made your every nerve ending feel as if it were about to explode. Your body hot, a slight sheen of sweat collecting against your forehead as you panted and moaned desperately, rolling your hips against his fingers. Then like that, you were empty again, leaving you to whine and mourn the loss of his touch as he brought his fingers up to his mouth. You watched in lustful awe from over your shoulder as he licked your essence from his fingers sinfully, wishing for it to be you, finding yourself in such terrible need of him. “Please…need you” you begged, making him chuckle as he lined himself up to your entrance. “Listen to yourself, begging for me like the good little slut you are” he replied as he slowly inched his way in, groaning at the feel of your warm, velvety walls inviting him in, stretching to accommodate even after all this time.

“Perhaps we should show everyone what I’m busy with, hmm? That way there’s no more interruptions” he finished as he sat there pulsing from deep within you, cock fully sheathed inside of your snug cunt as one hand sat around your throat. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as a warm tingle spread through you, leaving him to hum with intrigue after feeling you clench around him. Clearly you liked that thought, liked the idea of others knowing what was going on. His tip was already nudging the apex to your cervix and the tight grip he had on your hip, paired with the hand wrapped around your neck, warned you that he wasn’t going to be forgiving tonight. That his intent was to fuck you. Mercilessly. It had been too long, with too much stress accumulating over these past few weeks, too much anger. It had been nearing a month and he needed a release, luckily you were just the thing for him. What better way than to pound your aching hole into oblivion? You needed him, he needed you, it was the perfect exchange. He tested a thrust into you, deep and harsh that had you keening up from the desk with a loud pornographic moan. “Gods, yes!” You let out as he began to set a harsh pace, pounding into you hard and deep. The drag of his heavy cock hitting all those sweet spots from within you drove you absolutely crazy, your muscles weak, bones left feeling like jelly as you lay beneath him. “Fuck it’s been too long…” he let out, hips slamming against your ass with an audible clap, his desk creaking and even inching forward slightly with his harsher thrusts. “Such a filthy girl, letting me use you like a whore for everyone to hear” he chastised, but your pleasure-idled mind had already begun to melt into mush. It felt too good to care if others were listening, or to care what they thought of you for this. To you, it was thrilling.

Your chest heaved with every breath, back nearly aching from the harsh arch you were holding yourself up in. You cried out as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, a pleasurable pain sending your nerves alight as your eyes rolled beneath heavy lids. “A slut for pain, are you?” He asked, hand tangling in your hair once more, pulling your head back to allow him more access to your neck and shoulder as he laved his tongue over the angry bite mark. “Mhmm!” You managed to get out, feeling him pepper kisses up along your neck as he fucked your brains out. You hadn’t known you needed it like this, unsure of whether you could handle an angrier, rougher side of him but you loved it. Knowing you would leave here with bruises that claimed you as his, that you would come home and see marks from his hands, lips and teeth that blossomed from passion. Knowing you would wake up tomorrow and they would likely still be there as a reminder of what transpired. It excited you. Your only regret was having not tried it all so much sooner. “Fuck, yes! Oh gods, don’t stop!” You begged, feeling that familiar sensation of tightness in your core beginning to make its presence known. His name left your lips like a mantra to a fallen god, your fingers gripping the edges of the desk tightly to the point your knuckles were turning white. You watched papers fly everywhere, scattering the floor in various places with the way he fucked you so recklessly into the wooden desk. At this rate it wouldn’t have shocked either of you if all of Zaun heard your cries of his name, your moans of pleasure or the obscene sounds of your bodies rhythmically joining together. The smell of sex hung heavily in the air, mixing with the scent of tobacco and smoke from his cigar that had been put out a while ago, mingling together and morphing into something truly unique.

It was as his hand descended between your legs, fingers circling your clit that you were sent over the edge into bliss. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum! Silco!” You let out in warning before it washed over you like a tidal wave and consumed you whole. Your body gave way as you twitched and writhed with each shocking pulse that fell over you, mouth opened wide as you nearly screamed upon your release. You could tell from the way his movements no longer held rhythm that he wasn’t too far behind. Your walls clenched around him, making him lean forward as he bit your shoulder once more, a feral growl leaving him as he emptied himself inside of you. You bit your lip and moaned at the feel of his cock throbbing within you, painting your walls with his seed, filling you to the brim. You both remained like that for a moment, fighting to catch your breath as the after glow set in. You could hear the sound of a lighter from behind you, watching from over your shoulder as he tilted his head back and exhaled a puff of smoke from the cigar he had earlier that now sat between his nimble fingers. You couldn’t help but to give a giggle in response as you felt his free hand trace your spine and travel along the marks left against your skin. “You are quite the treasure trove of surprises, darling” he said, making you grin and hum. “Are you alright?” He asked, seeking you in such a weak state, and seeing all of the marks he’d left on you had him a little worried that perhaps he’d been too rough with you. “I’m great” you answered, making him chuckle as he took another drag of his cigar before carefully pulling himself out with a hiss from the sensitivity. “Good. You did well for me” he replied, helping you get cleaned up and dressed before redressing himself. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw you sat there on his desk, a hand grazing your cheek before kissing you softly. “Thank you, I wasn’t aware of just how much I’d been needing that. Or rather how much I’d been missing out on” he admitted softly, making you smile as you gently pressed your forehead against his. “No need to thank me love, I’m glad I could be of some help. Happy to remind you of how lucky you are” you said with a cheeky grin, earning a laugh from the both of you. “I am rather lucky, aren’t I?” He asked, making you hum as you pulled away to look at him, a far more joyful look on his face and a softness in his eyes compared to the harsh scowl that sat there before. “Quite. Though I’m lucky too” you responded sweetly, with a smile to match as you leaned your head against his chest, making his heart feel so full. What would he ever do without you?

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

(cw in tags if you wish)

Five: Sirius

Athens, Greece

Sirius wasn’t reckless. He thought before he did—probably too much sometimes. He kept himself in line. Maybe it was a product of a strict upbringing. A smack on the cheek or hand at one wrong move. He used to think it was what made him so good for the agency. Salazar liked strict. They liked obedient. James, therefore, hadn’t quite made sense to Sirius as a candidate, at least not in the beginning. Not until he showed Sirius that it wasn’t just about following orders. It was about heart, too. Camaraderie. Remus had shown him that, too. Still, Sirius couldn’t always shake that rule-following kid.

But if Remus was on the rooftops getting shot at by Jack Archer, who had just been holding a gun to Logan and Finn’s heads, all bets were off.

Jack was smart though. He took Sirius right through the now bustling Christmas market. Small children strapped the the chests of fathers. Women in groups laughing and catching up over coffee. Carolers by a central fountain. Sirius caught glimpses of alarmed eyes as he ran, always keeping the back of Jack’s head just in sight. He tried not to add to the mess on the street, narrowly avoiding the cart Jack had carelessly rolled into his path. He sprinted past the pissed vendor. He knew he should hide his gun. Lights blurred beside him and the sun came out from behind a cloud, then went again. His feet pounded the pavement. The streets narrowed. Jack stumbled on the stones in front of a cafe, sending cups shattering to the cobblestones and making a shop owner run out and shout at him. For a second, Sirius thought he was going to catch up. He swiped forward at the fabric of Jack’s shirt, but Jack rolled and then was up on his feet again. Sirius lunged. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care if they saw his gun. His arms wrapped around Jack’s waist and they both hit the cobblestones hard, rolling into another table. Sirius felt something hot splash against his neck, something sharp dig into the skin of his wrist.

Jack was up again in a moment, using a hard kick to Sirius’ ribs to knock the wind out of him. Sirius gasped, coughing as he scrambled up from the ground and away from the alarmed onlookers. He yanked the shard of ceramic out of his arm. Jack slipped around a bend in the street—but this was one Sirius recognized. He’d chased Remus—or the ghost of Remus—right into this corner.

When he held his gun up on Jack, Jack’s hands were around the bars of the very gate Sirius had run into their first day here.

“Dead end, Archer,” Sirius said. “Now tell me why you’re here.”

Jack at least knew when he’d been caught. His shoulders moved quickly, breathing hard as he rested his forehead against the gate.

“Did you know?” Sirius could hardly say the words. “Did you know they were alive?”

“Sirius—”

“Get the fuck down,” Sirius said, striding closer until they were both hidden in the alleyway. He risked a glance behind him. “On your knees.”

Jack went, knocking the damp hair out of his face with a jerk of his head. Sirius could see both of their breath fogging between them. “We didn’t know. Not until Leo found Remus.”

“And you want them dead.”

Jack’s mouth formed a thin line.

Sirius didn’t have time for this. His mind kept skipping back, trying to figure out who had been shooting from the roof. RemusRemusRemus.

“Why?” Sirius asked. “Why do you want them dead? They’re our own, what changed? And I swear to God, answer me, or I’ll bring you to James.”

James was sweet. James was funny. James was relaxed and kind and easy-going.

James could also get information out of anyone. He was their top interrogator, had been since the academy. How do you do it? Sirius had once asked. Sirius had never liked seeing terrified faces up close. James had gotten a sad, faraway look on his face. I pretend they have Lily. And Harry. And then I don’t feel so guilty. I just want them to talk. I make them talk.

Jack seemed to have heard the rumors because he paled. “Listen. This is Salazar. You’re here to find them and bring them in. That’s all I’m here for, too.”

Sirius thought briefly of telling Jack about Logan’s memory, but Remus’ careful hazel eyes filled his mind. Unsure. Untrusting.

“Why pull the gun?”

Jack’s eyebrow arched. “Tremblay was holding a gun on his own husband. Who, by the way…” Jack made a scornful sound. “Should not be here.”

It was Sirius’ turn to stay silent. It was a sensible response, but that didn’t mean Sirius believed him.

“What,” Jack laughed a little. “You think we wouldn’t know?”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“Liar.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Sirius said. “Why are you here?”

“Is he turned?” Jack asked in a hushed voice, eyes dark. “Is Lupin?”

“Turned where? By who?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “Liar.”

“I’m not.” Sirius swallowed over a dry throat. At least, not entirely. Pascal. Pascal, whoever he was.

“You don’t want to get on our bad side, Black,” Jack said. His hand twitched, maybe towards a knife, and Sirius stretched his gun forward. Jack’s smile was tight. “I think Tremblay’s enough proof of that.”

Sirius stared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but stopped as though his words had frozen in his mouth. He snapped his lips shut, then a strained cough escaped. A twitch went through his body, almost like a pulse of electricity, and he sat back against his heels. Sirius hesitated, watching Jack blink fast at the cobblestones before raising his eyes to Sirius.

“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked, eyes darting between the two guns. He scrambled backwards, the gate rattling when it hit his back. “What the hell?”

Sirius froze. He clicked the safety off on his own gun. “Don’t bullshit me, Archer.”

Jack blinked at him, eyes unfocused. “I…”

Another twitch, a strange pulse through his body. Jack gasped. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. He swayed where he was, and his hands went to his head. “Ah—” Sirius watched his face screw up in pain. Jack stared up at him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Jack—” Sirius began to say, but then Jack fell against the pavement, as suddenly as if someone had pushed him, with a harsh thud.

Sirius felt something cold squeeze around his throat. Dread, maybe. Adrenaline. Slowly, he lowered the guns, tucking one into his belt and swinging the other behind him, doing a quick scan of what little of the street he could see. He raised it up towards the roofs, then crouched in front of Jack.

His eyes were open, lips parted, blood quickly drying on his skin. He was dead.

“Jesus,” Sirius whispered. “Jesus, fuck—” His hand went for his radio, and then he paused. It was Salazar’s radio.

If anyone had told Sirius just a week ago that that would make him pause, he would have laughed.

Sirius checked Jack’s pulse—nothing—and then cursed as he heaved his body up against the wall as best he could. There was no point in trying to move him, not with the city waking up. Someone would have to find him like this. Sirius turned Jack’s collar up, closed his eyes, and took the wires off of him. He took his knives—all the ones he could feel anyway—and the second, small gun he found tucked into his boot.

He walked in the opposite direction of the cafes, towards the still mostly sleeping residential streets. There had been no blood, not that much anyway, but Sirius checked his hands and front before calling out to a man sweeping the steps in front of his house with a cigarette between his teeth.

The man didn’t put up much of a fight, just handed Sirius his cellphone before waving him off and going back to the chore.

The line picked up immediately.

“Lion den,” Sirius said into the tone. It was their secure line. If Salazar knew about it, they’d be dead, but Finn’s tracker wasn’t the first illegal backup Leo had set up. James hadn’t seen the point, hadn’t seen what they’d ever have to hide any comms, but Leo had insisted. Now, Sirius was glad. After Archer and Remus and Logan, he didn’t know who to trust. A headache was building at the back of his skull.

“We’re not at the house,” Leo said instead of hello. “After Archer, I didn’t think we should go back there.”

“He’s dead,” Sirius said.

He heard Leo’s sharp inhale. “Sirius—”

“It wasn’t me,” Sirius said. “We were running, I got him. And then he didn’t recognize me all of a sudden. A minute later, he was dead.”

Sirius’ heart was going so hard he had to press a hand there. The sweeping man didn’t even look up. The gray light hurt his eyes.

“Where are you?” Sirius asked. “Leo. Are you all together?”

“He’s dead?” Leo asked. “But—how? And what do you mean he didn’t recognize you?”

“I don’t know, I thought he was fucking with me, because maybe he knew Logan—but how would he know Logan couldn’t remember? I…” Sirius pressed at his eyes. It was as though someone was shining a spotlight right in his eyes. It ached. “I don’t know, Le. Where are you? Where are you?”

“Sirius,” Leo said. “I can’t find—I can’t find you.”

“What?”

“I can’t find you—Jesus, here, I’m dropping this number our coordinates—but Sirius, your tracker’s offline.”

Sirius felt the phone vibrate with the incoming text. He looked, memorizing quickly. It would disappear entirely in a minute, erasing itself.

“He didn’t recognize you?” Leo asked. “He didn’t…”

“Leo,” Sirius said, and then dropped to a knee. God, his very bones ached. His skull.

“Oh God,” Leo said faintly, and then, a little farther away from the phone, he shouted. “James!”

Sirius ducked away from the gray light. The cold wind. His head was killing him. “Fuck.”

“Eh!” The man stopped sweeping, looking at him. He said something fast in Greek, but Sirius was hopeless to translate just then.

“Sirius,” Leo said, voice closer now. “You’re tracker. Cut it out right now.”

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Cut out your tracker right now,” Leo shouted. “You said Jack forgot and then he was dead, there’s nothing that would cause that except—” Leo cut off with a short cry.

“Leo?” Sirius said.

He heard Finn’s voice in the background. Leo! Oh my God—

Then Leo’s. Cut it out, Finn. Right there, remember, feel it? Finn, stop fucking staring, do it, do it, it’s going to kill me and James—

“Finish?” the man asked him, alarmed. He was holding out his hand for his phone, but didn’t look like he wanted to get much closer to Sirius. “Hey, finish? Finish?”

“Help,” Sirius said. “Please—” He pulled the Greek out but he didn’t know how. Autopilot, maybe. “Sir, please may I use your bathroom? It’s life or death.”

The man began to shake his head, but Sirius didn’t have time—he shouldn’t have even asked. The man shouted as Sirius hauled himself up and stumbled past him. He shouldered through the small, wooden door and found himself in a living room—tidy and smelling of cinnamon and coffee. It connected right with the kitchen, not unlike their safe house. The dim lamp by the sofa stung his eyes, glaring as if it were a sun. Sirius blinked hard, looking for something sharp, anything.

“Hey!” The man tried to grab his shoulder, but Sirius shook him off easily. There was a knife, small, laying beside a sliced lemon. Sirius grabbed it and all but fell against the sink. A small vase on the window sill above slipped and shattered into the basin.

The man’s protests was no more than a ringing in Sirius’ ear as he groped at the back of his own neck. What the hell are you doing? Are you insane? Are you sick? Hey, my wife and children will be back soon, come on, brother, don’t scare them. Put the knife down, put the knife down—

There. Sirius felt the bump. Was he imagining that it was hot to the touch? It didn’t matter.

He didn’t even feel the pain of the blade. His adrenaline was so high that it felt like nothing at all. Butter. A slip. Only the red on his hands let him know that he had succeeded. That, and the small, pill-like chip clutched between his fingers.

The pain evaporated and Sirius drew in a ragged breath.

No sooner had he dropped the tracker into the sink than did it let out a high-pitched sound and crack itself in half.

His hearing returned. He blinked his vision back to normal. He worked the pressure out of his jaw. The tracker released a thin trail of smoke.

Sirius, he tested. Sirius Black. He knew himself. He knew the coordinates.

When he turned, breathing hard and sweating, he grabbed an old, dirty looking cloth and pressed it to his neck. It didn’t look like anyone would miss it. The man was simply staring at him, eyes darting between his face and the device in the sink.

“Thank you.” Sirius breathed the words out. Greek, or at least half way there. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”

Without another word, Sirius raced out the door.

+++

The coordinates were an abandoned building right on the coast. Sirius could smell the salt. The cold air was made colder by damp. He had stopped the bleeding of his neck and turned up his collar to keep the rag in place. Everything felt wet and slippery now. Recent rain on the rocks beneath his feet as he walked up an old pathway.

There was nothing inside, it was merely a somewhat reasonable roof of their heads. Shelter, nothing more. Just broken down boards and stone walls now.

To anyone else, it looked empty.

Sirius whistled two notes.

Two notes returned from his left where the sea and horizon bled into each other, framed by a still standing window. It could have been a painting. A TV.

James appeared in front of it, wild hair haloed by the light.

“Fuck,” James said, and then they were hugging. Sirius face ended up near a slightly pink bandage on James’ neck, and he sighed his relief all over again.

“Fuck me, we had a bomb in our head the whole time, Si.” James reached up and brushed the bandage with light fingers. “Just an average day on the job.” His eyes went to Sirius’ neck. “What did you do it with?”

“Fucking kitchen knife, man. You?”

James’ laugh was shaky. “One of my daggers on Leo and I. Finn did it. Think he’s a little freaked, but he did it.”

“Oh Jesus, I should have…” Sirius shook his head. He had his own and he had Jack’s. “Didn’t have to traumatize this…God, never mind. I fucking broke into someone’s house.”

James laughed again, but he looked pale. “It’ll be fine. I was so scared I didn’t even feel it.”

“Same.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Jack?”

“I left him,” Sirius said. “Took everything off him. People will think…I don’t know. But there’s nothing to lead back to Salazar or us.”

James nodded, taking that in. “Salazar’ll be looking for us now that they can’t find us.”

Sirius nodded. “I know… I know they will. We have to move.” They began walking towards the sea window. “How did you end up here? Where are the others?”

“Finn and Leo are with Logan.”

Logan. God, Sirius hadn’t forgotten, of course he hadn’t forgotten, but what a strange thing to hear. After all these months, just a simple Finn and Leo are with Logan.

No sooner had James said it than did the Leo appear. He had an identical bandage to James and held one out to Sirius, along with an alcohol packet.

“Clean that,” Leo said.

Sirius tossed the bloody rag away. “Did yours smoke, too?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “The second I started to get a headache—Finn said that’s what happened to Logan, too. Said he fell down in pain. But…” Leo frowned in the way he did when he was thinking something over, when something was so entirely perplexing to him that he was sure to pull an all nighter. Sirius had seen him many times after those. Blond hair a mess, coffee mugs lined up besides the water and the electrolyte packets.

“Where…” Sirius began to say. He’d only gotten a glimpse of Logan and it was beginning to feel more like a dream. His slack face. There had been blood? Hadn’t there?

Leo moved aside, revealing a half-collapsed hallway. No, it was more like an nave. Sirius looked up and realized that the remnant of a vaulted ceiling remained, stone and precarious. This had been a church.

Wind whistled through, a high note off the sea, when Sirius saw them. Finn and Logan were at the other end, a corner mostly intact and protected from the cold. Finn was awake, staring down at Logan’s face like he couldn’t stand to look away, not even for a moment. Logan was—asleep?

“Knocked out.” Leo filled in his thoughts. “Finn said he remembered him in the alley, but he’s been out ever since.”

“And his tracker?”

“It’s gone,” Leo said. “I checked.”

“But if Salazar wanted him dead…”

Leo nodded, already there. “Then whoever took it out probably saved his life."

“But he can’t remember us,” Sirius said.

Leo rubbed a hand through his hair, then pressed his fingers to his mouth, thinking. There was blood beneath his nails still, a crust of red even smeared along his jaw. Sirius had the sudden urge to wipe it away for him.

“You said Jack forgot who you were a second before he was killed,” Leo said. “I’m guessing—and this is only a guess—that this is some sort of…kill code put into place in Salazar’s tracker hardware. A memory wipe in case we get captured, and then a kill switch if there’s no hope or if we might crack and tell all.”

“Jesus,” James whispered.

“I’m guessing whoever took out Logan’s didn’t do it in time to prevent the memory wipe. And that’s calling it real close, I don’t know…”

Remus. Sirius could hardly breathe. If he hadn’t seen that footage for himself, he’d be on his knees all over again, desperate and afraid.

“Can you reverse it?” James asked. He was chewing on a thumbnail, looking down the hall. “God, please say you can Leo.”

Leo let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” He looked down the stone archways towards Finn. As the three of them watched, Finn reached out a hand and brushed Logan’s hair back from his eyes gently. “I don’t know.”

[twoheartedfool]

Unearthed

Thomas Shelby x F!Reader

CW: Funerals, mention of blood, angsty angst, happy ending?

The funeral was a dark one, as it should be expected. The dark clouds rolling over matched the mood of everyone in Small Heath mourning over their beloved king, Mr. Thomas Shelby. England mourned along with you. You had forgotten your umbrella in the daze on the way to the cemetery. Ada, with her arm wrapped in yours, held one over the two you. She didn’t fuss over you. She knew you wouldn’t like it. But her, and the other siblings that you had began to call your own, were all there for you. Silently in the background, they made sure everything went smoothly because you were too much in a fog.

Over the past 24 hours you had felt more emotions than you thought you could handle; despair, anger, betrayal, and now numbness. You were empty. The words said about Tommy were all just buzz in your ears. You stared at the closed casket but felt nothing. You didn’t even realize it was over until Arthur was kissing your forehead and there was a line of people behind him that were waiting to pay their respects. If Tommy was their king, then you were their queen. You didn’t want to see any of them. 

John kissed your cheek next but you continued to stare blankly at the casket. Another figure stood in front of you and you didn’t look at them until you heard their sniffles. Finn. You still had to remind yourself to look up when looking at him. He had grown so much. 

“(Y/N),” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” 

Hearing his words finally awoke something inside you. 

“Finn,” you started. Everyone looked startled at the sound of your voice. They couldn’t remember when you had spoken last. 

You took the young man’s face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Finn, you didn’t do this. There are men in this world, very, very bad men that did this, and they will pay for what they did. You are not one of those men. Tommy loved you. This isn’t your fault. Understood?” 

He nodded quickly. Arthur clamped a loving hand on his shoulder, “Wipe your tears, bruv.” 

“(Y/N), we’re going to the Garrison so everyone can be together. So we can celebrate Tommy,” Ada said softly. 

“I won’t be going to that,” you replied. 

“Please, we’re worried about you,” Esme said. 

“I said no,” you snapped. You sighed and closed your eyes, “I want to stay here a little while.” 

“Let us drive you back at least,” Arthur said. 

“I’ll walk,” you said coldly. 

“Come on, let’s leave her be,” John muttered, pulling Esme and Ada away. Finn shuffled behind them. Arthur stepped towards you.

“You, too, Arthur,” John called out. After a few moments, he finally huffed and walked towards the cars. You vaguely heard him shouting at everyone else to get moving. They filtered away and you watched as men started shoveling dirt into the grave. 

When someone stood beside you again, anger startled to boil up. “I said--”

You were startled by a man you had never seen before holding an envelope towards you. 

“Mrs. Shelby, this is for you.” 

“What is it?” 

“I can’t tell you that but it’s important that you take it.” 

“And who the fuck are you?” 

“I can’t tell you that, either. Please, Mrs. Shelby.” 

Looking down at the envelope, all possible outcomes of what it could be ran through your head. It was too thin to be an explosive. With a sigh, you ripped it out of his hands. 

The handwriting of the letter made your blood run cold. It was too familiar. You would recognize it anywhere. 

(Y/N),

Meet me in the basement of this address. Wait until after the Garrison. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain everything. 

All my love. 

There wasn’t a signature but you didn’t need one to know who it was from, or who you thought it was from anyway. With a snap of your head, you looked up at the man but he was already gone. Desperately looking for any of the Shelby’s, all you saw were the boys filling the grave. All of the cars were gone. But that didn’t matter. You knew a shortcut. 

Many people stared after you while you sprinted pass them. All of them just muttered things to themselves such as “poor girl” or “I don’t know what she’ll be without him.” You of course didn’t notice any of them. All you were focused on was getting to the address. It was in a part of town that you rarely came to, down by the river where it was mostly abandoned warehouses. 

Getting into the building was difficult. It seemed to be the only empty building that still had working locks. Eventually you found an open window that was easy enough to climb through. 

With staggered breath, you made it to the basement. Other than some old crates, there was nothing. The silence was deafening.

A fresh wave of tears made it to your eyes. How could you let yourself gain hope?

“How could I be so stupid?” you whispered fiercely, wiping away your tears. 

“I thought I told you to wait until after the Garrison.” 

You nearly screamed at the voice behind you. Walking around a corner was the man you thought you buried this morning. 

“Tommy,” you whispered, horrified. He wasn’t dressed in his normal suit, just pants, suspenders, and a white shirt that was covered in dirt and blood. Cuts and bruises lined his face. Slowly, you stepped forward, your fingertips hesitantly touching his cheek, his eyes fluttering close at your warmth. He was real. 

“Tommy,” you repeated. 

“It’s me, love.” 

Without a second thought, you threw yourself at him. He caught you easily, accepting your lips that hastily searched for his. You held onto him as tightly as you could, and him you. 

The kiss was finished with a harsh smack against his cheek that echoed throughout the basement. 

“How dare you,” you growled. 

“(Y/N)--”

“No! I had to bury you!” you slapped against his chest. 

“Love, listen-” 

“How dare you!” you screamed, continually hitting against his chest. Sobs escaped you in screams. All the feelings you had been bottling up inside were finally coming up. Tommy secured you tightly against, softly shushing in your ear. 

“You were dead.” 

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m sorry. I’m here. We’re alright now.” 

“How could you do this?” you wailed into his neck. His fingers grasped the nape of your neck, keeping you steady as your sobs slowed.

“It had be done. I needed them to believe it. You couldn’t have know, or else they wouldn’t have went with it.” 

“I don’t understand. Me. Your family. They all thought you were dead.” 

It was barely a twitch in his fingers that you felt in your hair. His silence accompanied it. You leaned away to meet his eyes, your vision finally clearing from the tears. He held the contact boldly. He was an expert at this and known throughout England because of it. Thomas Shelby and his cold, blue eyes. 

But you’re weren’t the rest of England.

“Who did you tell?” you asked. He kept your gaze as you stepped away from him. 

“You couldn’t have known,” he repeated bluntly, a pulse in his clenched jaw.

“Who knew, Thomas?” 

“Arthur.”

A strike of a rage went through you. There was that feeling again, betrayal. You felt it towards the world and God when they killed Thomas. Now you felt it towards the man himself and his brother. 

“Who else?” 

Tommy licked his lips and sighed, “Aunt Pol.” 

You scowled. “That’s why she wasn’t there today.” 

“She didn’t agree with my decision.”

“Of course she didn’t fucking agree with it! Who the fuck would?” you exploded. “What about the others? Do they know? Jesus, Tommy! Finn thinks that all of this is his fault!” 

“When the time is right, I will speak to Finn. He’ll understand. They all will.”

“I don’t,” you muttered. “You’re a bastard. You could have told me.” 

Thomas was hesitant to step forward but when you didn’t make any immediate signs of rejection, he took your face in his hands. He held you firmly, stroking his thumb against the tear stains on your cheeks. When he touched you, it felt like he was touching the most important thing in the world, because to him he was. And he was pleading with the world that you would forgive him for this.

“How would you have felt if I had done this?” you wondered. 

“Broken,” he admitted truthfully and without hesitation. Before you could speak, he continued. “But better than I would have felt if they had gotten to you. I wasn’t the only one with a target on my back. They were going to kill you, but I put myself forward. Nothing will keep you from me, or I you. Do I understand?” 

Exhausted, you lean your forehead against his. The bile in the back of your throat was settling. For a just a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him and exist outside the past few days. To feel him under your fingertips and his hands against your back.

“You’re still a bastard, Tommy.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not forgiven yet. If you ever try something like this again, you will not be able to fake your death because I will kill you.”

“I know, love.”

[queuestarter]

continuity

(finnick odair x reader)

cw: mentions/the act of vomiting

link to the request → finnick helping reader with morning sickness

open to finnick requests !!

You lay completely flat on the couch, eyes closed with a towel draped over them just to ensure that not a single ounce of light passes through. In your mouth is a raw piece of ginger- a trick to help with the nausea.

You’ve been incredibly sick for your entire pregnancy so far. You expected the headaches, nausea, and mood swings to end with your first trimester, but here you are, twenty four weeks along, and every symptom remains.

“Hey, babies,” you hear your husband call out to you. You grimace, the sound of his voice making you feel worse.

“Finn, shut up. Please.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything. Instead, you hear him move closer to where you’re laying. He lays a hand on your prominent bump and begins to rub. It feels good for a few seconds before a sudden feeling of repulsion washes over you.

“I love you with everything in me Finnick Odair but the baby doesn’t like that,” you whine, a pout forming. At this point, you’re so bothered by the overstimulating atmosphere around you that you decide to just accept the headache and nausea. You take the towel off of your eyes and sit up.

You see Finnick smiling in front of you, beautiful as ever. You roll your eyes at his happiness and grab his hand, spitting the chunk of chewed up ginger into it. You’re not even surprised when even that doesn’t seem to break his high spirits.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love,” he requests. You pout, feeling tears already coming in. Today has been unnecessarily hard for no reason and Finnick being as perfect as ever isn’t helping much.

“I feel sick,” you whine pathetically. He cooes at you and cradles your face with the hand that isn’t full of chewed up ginger. 

“Do you want me to get you anything? Some tea?”

You nod slowly. You like a nice cup of tea, especially when you don’t feel good.

“What flavor? Does chamomile sound good?” He asks, backing away from you.

You think- chamomile is usually your go to tea, that would be fine. But the more you think about the tea, the more nauseous it makes you.

“Finn,” you moan, standing up from the couch. “Can you walk me to the bathroom?”

He scrunches his eyebrows together. “What about the tea?”

“Forget the damn tea,” you hiss, hand slapping over your mouth. Without his help, you run down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom, instantly lowering yourself to the toilet to expel the contents of your stomach.

Within seconds Finnick is by your side, holding your hair back with one hand and the other massaging soothing circles in the center of your back. “That’s it, honey. I’m sorry this is happening.”

You flush the toilet, letting out a deep breath. “It’s okay. Our baby just wants to make themselves known.”

“That’s right,” Finnick praises, helping you to your feet. You grab your toothbrush and scrub away at your teeth. Finnick stands behind you, peppering kisses onto your exposed neck at every chance he gets. 

Once you're finished and you rinse out your mouth, you give Finnick a kiss. “I feel better, can you make me the tea now?”

He smiles his perfect smile before saying, “anything for you, my love.”

You settle back into the couch, perfectly content with life.

-

[witlesswitnesstm]

Ok so I haven’t posted anything about this before, but I feel as though I have to now because this obsession is taking over my life.

The Marvin Trilogy: My Speculations about Marvin’s sexual trauma

(Surprisingly, I’ve seen almost no one talk about this)

Cw: Pedophila, SA, mention of suicidality

For this, I am taking from both the 1979 album and the 1985 rewrite of In Trousers.

So, the elephant in the room: Set those sails. When I first watched the Trinity College production, the entire song gave me a sense of unease unlike anything else. There’s this whole depiction of Mrs. Goldberg stripping in front of Marvin, a 14 year old, and then Marvin backing away and watching all of the ladies sing. I want to note here how Marvin doesn’t sing in this at all. Then the song ends, and Mrs. Goldberg claims the entire song was a highschool fantasy by Marvin. See, I don’t doubt that parts of it were definitely made up, but I think Mrs. Goldberg coming onto Marvin was not. To me, Set those sails is Marvin’s interpretation of his teacher’s assault. He’s trying to justify his uncomfortableness by imagining this scenario is a sort of “wake up call” to manhood. One of the lines is “You might tell me you’re a victim, you might get what you deserve.” Which, in my opinion, is near damning evidence to suggest that Mrs. Goldberg groomed/abused Marvin in some way. She says that she can’t excuse a boy who’s lost his nerve, which seems to me like her encouraging Marvin’s perception of masculinity, and saying that he needs to reciprocate her affection to be a man. There are further references to how a good man never fails or how men account for the appetite of all, that could be him trying to tell himself he should’ve enjoyed it. A “good man” in Marvin eyes, is someone who has incredible resolve to his heterosexuality, and always lusts for women. What better a way to prove that than to pretend he enjoyed being assaulted?

Next, I want to note the differences between Set those sails and the R—- of Mrs. Goldberg. The r of Mrs. Goldberg is incredibly childish, and it’s clearly stated at the beginning that it’s a fantasy by Marvin. In this song, Marvin has the control. He’s the hero who takes Mrs. Goldberg instead of the other way around. He has no clear understanding of what sex actually is, and just wants the absolute power that is implied with it. I personally like the interpretation that Marvin made fantasies of having control to cope with being assaulted. I also like the interpretation that this song is a story he made up to tell others in order to “prove” his heterosexuality. As I briefly mentioned earlier, the behavior of Marvin between the 2 songs is also very stark. In set those sails, Marvin actively tries to get away from Mrs. Goldberg and stays absolutely silent. This is extremely uncharacteristic of Marvin, especially at this age. He always acts out, he always yells, except for this song. This deeply contrasts the R of Mrs. Goldberg, where Marvin is loud and happy, as usual. I take this to mean that Set those sails is one of the few moments where he is truly paralyzed.

There are a few references to Mrs. Goldberg’s misconduct in Highschool sweetheart as well, even if they are a stretch. Marvin says “She gives me words to say” and while this is obviously a reference to the script, it might also be her telling Marvin to lie about what happened. There’s also Mrs. Goldberg saying “Stop making me crazy, Marvin. I love the way Marvin acts, I do.” which is obviously about his unruly behavior, but might also be about her sexual feelings towards him.

As for how this ties into the main theme of misogyny, misogyny affects all. The idea that women are docile and innocent, and men are sex crazed is a product of misogyny. Marvin holding this belief actively hurts him over and over again, blaming himself for not living up to this standard. I truly have no idea if this is what William Finn intended, but I find it interesting how it all fits.

Moving on from childhood, let’s talk about Nausea before the game. Besides probably being my favorite song in the whole show, it gives a whole lot of insight as to how Marvin feels about sex now that he’s presumably experienced it. The constant references to games are important here, I feel like. Marvin absolutely loves winning. He even says that winning is everything to him in The Chess Game. Marvin would do anything to win, including forcing himself through intercourse he desperately does not want to have. It’s implied that he literally throws up afterwards, trying to purge himself of his shame. He even prays for it to stop, but inevitably, it never does. And of course this all stems from his internalized homophobia, and the added layer of possibly being assaulted as a child just makes the entire situation even more tragic. Having sex with Trina could *literally* be bringing back traumatic experiences. This also makes me feel for Trina, because she did nothing wrong. She just wants love, but Marvin is so fucked up. There’s also even more references to being inappropriately touched in highschool with the line “It's anxiety when you recall girls who touch you when you're walking down the hall.”

My chance to survive the night just further elaborates how much Marvin hates being heterosexual. I find the word “survive” to be very peculiar in this case. It went from “winning” sex to “surviving” it. This might imply how worn out he is because of all of this, focusing his attention to his literal survival than his pride. It might also imply suicidal thoughts during sex, leading to him just wanting to live through it, although that might be a stretch. (Marvin’s suicidality is a whole other can of worms that I’d love to get into in another post). One thing though, I don’t actually know if My chance to survive the night is before or after Nausea before the game, but it has a similar implication either way. Anyway, there’s one verse in the song I want to note. Marvin says sex as a dance, but he describes all the movements very objectively, and notes how he isn’t very lucid about it. This might be a sign of disassociation, which is a common trauma response. Another thing from this song is that he says he wants to sleep, but the phone will ring (Presumably a call to intimacy). And this theme of wanting to sleep but not being able to is a theme throughout the whole musical. There’s a reference to it in Nausea before the game with “If I touch her would she let me fall asleep?”, and many references in “I can’t sleep”, but I think that song is more about how Marvin’s ex lovers haunt him in general.

Next up, I want to talk about Your lips and me reprise. This really digs into the whole “Marvin’s ex lovers are haunting him” deal. This is the first time we really see Marvin actually acknowledge the ladies’ accompaniment for his songs, and it’s because of his guilt for making up a story about Mrs. Goldberg. I think Marvin thinking about this in one of his most private places, his shower, just shows how much this affected him, even in adulthood. The line “My body is not yours to hold” by Mrs. Goldberg is extremely powerful, and I think it could have multiple meanings. It’s Marvin’s guilt about fantasizing about her, yes, but it could also be him finally accepting that what he and Mrs. Goldberg did wasn’t supposed to happen. The ensuing panic attack is caused by Marvin’s perception of his childhood crashing around him. If anyone has seen lars_orange’s animatic of this song on YouTube, I really love their depiction of Marvin recovering from his panic attack. He thinks about Whizzer, and he breathes. This is where Marvin takes a victory shower starts. He’s not ashamed anymore. (Unrelated, but is it just me or is this song seem like Marvin taking a shower after having sex with Whizzer? It’s referenced in How America got its name that Columbus planned to take a shower after he and Amerigo spent so much time together.)

Finally, I want to talk about Another sleepless night. Specifically the 1985 version. This gives a clue into how passionate Whizzer and Marvin are, even before The thrill of first love. There is one key difference in the lyrics from the college production to the actual lyrics. In the actual lyrics, there’s a line, “I’m feeling hot. He'll close his eyes, and then surprise: I'll be awake and performing” but the college production changes it to “He’s feeling hot. I’ll close my eyes, and then surprise: I'll be awake and performing”. The actual lyrics enforce Marvin’s need for homosexual intimacy, which feels very in character for him at this point. He’s craving anything other than heterosexual sex and he finally has that in Whizzer. The college lyrics paint a completely different picture, implying that Whizzer is the one who wants passion. Then Marvin says “He'll wanna sleep, but asks for more. To put up with a guy like myself must be a bore.” This suggests Marvin still feels a sense of guilt for not being able to give what others want from him. These different interpretations bring completely different meanings to the line “But he sleeps in this bed, with me, a survivor.” For the original lyrics, the connotation of “survivor” is positive; he’s survived his trauma and able to move on. For the college production, it’s negative; he still feels fragile or insecure because of what he’s been through. Ultimately it ends semi positively with both versions saying that Marvin’s never felt more alive.

Ok, god damn that was a lot of words. Short story, Marvin is hells of fucked up, and I really really really love the Marvin trilogy