#like Miles isn’t receiving the most mind blowing news ever (and good news)

[milimeters-morales]

Miles: im not … a boy.. but i’m not fully a girl either

Rio: yeah me neither :) it’s fine honey

Miles, about to pass out:

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?��

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[flightlessangelwings]

Marcus Moreno NSFW Alphabet

18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.3k

afab!reader

~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Marcus is very attentive after sex, and he loves to cuddle. He’s content to hold you in his arms for as long as you want. Even after a mind blowing orgasm, nothing beats having you in his arms close and safe. And if you need anything, Marcus is right in it. Want water? He’s got you. Want a fuzzy blanket and cuddles? He’s your man.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself is his arms. Marcus trained hard to keep his body in shape and that includes a lot of arm strength. But mostly he likes to wrap his arms around you and hold you close. He loves when you comment on how safe you feel in his arms.

And Marcus is a boob man for sure. He loves to worship every inch of your body, but he especially loves your boobs. He’ll spend plenty of time kissing his way up and down each mound and spend a lot of time on your nipples too. He loves to knead them softly while he thrusts into you and watch them swing when he picks up his pace. And when you’re finished having sex, he loves to hold you close with a hand on your breast and give it a soft extra little squeeze.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Marcus really likes to pull out at the last second and cum on your belly. The sight of you hot and sweaty with his cum painting your skin is a sight unlike any other for Marcus. And of course he cleans you up real well after he’s done savoring the moment; he’ll never leave you a mess like that. And he loves to watch you cum too. The faces you make are super sexy to him and the sounds are music to his ears, especially if you cry out his name when you cum. He almost loves when you cum more than he cums.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Marcus really wants to tie you up. Not only does he think you would look so sexy naked, bound and helpless on his bed, but it would show an extreme amount of trust, and that turned him on more than anything else. He’s always afraid to hurt you or try anything too wild with you, so he hasn’t asked you yet.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Marcus could count his sexual partners on one hand. He’s not the type for one night stands and he only sleeps with those he cares about. That being said, he still knows what he’s doing. Marcus likes to spend time getting to know what his partners like and what really drives them wild.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Marcus does like missionary so he can watch you while you wrap your arms and legs around him. He also likes when you’re on top and riding him. There’s just something about watching you bounce on his cock and watching himself disappear inside you that gets him off like nothing else. Marcus is a switch so he’s happy to be on top or bottom.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh sweet himbo Marcus Morano. He can’t help but laugh at times, and he loves to laugh during sex. Sometimes he can’t help but tickle you while he’s kissing down your body and just grin as you giggle and squirm. Sometimes he can’t resist the urge to blow a raspberry in your belly, and it especially cracks him up when you do it to him too.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself well groomed and he loves to be fresh and clean for you. Marcus doesn’t shave, but he keeps everything neat and trimmed. You don’t care either way, hair is natural, but he likes to go the extra mile for you. And he doesn’t mind keeping the hair shorter.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If you look up hopeless romantic in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Marcus Moreno. He is a king of romance, and he takes great pride in sweeping you off your feet when it comes to that. There’s nothing Marcus loves more than to spend the evening wining and dining you, and he spares no expense to get all your favorites. Then he’ll spend all night making sweet love to you. Because Marcus Moreno doesn’t just have sex, he makes love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Marcus spent a long time as a single dad so of course he jerked off fairly often. Between leading the Heroics and being a single father he didn’t have much time to date until you came into his life. He doesn’t feel as much of a need to jerk off now since he has you, but sometimes he’ll put on a little private show just for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink, both ways. He will shower you with affection while he’s inside you and he’ll tell you how beautiful you are and how amazing you feel. And he loves it when you tell him how good he is and how well he takes care of you. Marcus does short circut when you tell him how sexy he is and how hot he looks when he is fucking you.

Nipple play. Marcus loves your breasts and loves to play with your nipples. He’ll nibble and suck marks on your skin and swirl his tongue along your nipple as he savors the way you moan and arch your back. He also loves having his own nipples played with, especially with how you do it so well.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Marcus is traitional in that sense in that he likes to have sex in the bedroom. He likes the comfort and privacy. But, he’s also known to enjoy a good shower sex at times as well. And he also surprises you sometimes when he takes you to a storage closet or someplace in headquarters for a quickie.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Marcus loves when you say his name. Something about hearing it in your voice just really turns him on. And he loves when you initiate sex. And since he knows there’s a risk of his loved ones being targeted, he loves when you can defend yourself. If he’s teaching you a new technique and you’ve got him pinned, Marcus is more turned on than ever.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Marcus will never ever do anything to hurt you. He’s too protective of you to even think about anything like that. Also he does not like the daddy kink at all. He’s a father and he doesn’t want any references to that in bed.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Your pleasure really is his pleasure, and Marcus loves to go down on you. He could happily spend hours between your legs if you’d let him, and he’ll take his time to learn everything you love. Marcus will draw it out as long as he can as he works your clit with his tongue while he hold onto your hips. He’s addicted to the taste of you, and he would forgo anything in return just to spend as long as he can in your folds.

That being said, like most men he would never turn down a blowjob, especially from you. From the moment he’s in your mouth, Marcus is at your mercy, and you both know it. You work him better than anyone ever had before, and he has to physically hold himself back from cumming too soon because of how good it feels. And of course he stares in awe every time you swallow his load.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual for sure. Marcus likes to take his time with you. He’ll spend hours kissing you all over before he even thinks about fucking you. Your pleasure is his pleasure for sure, and he’ll spend all the time it takes to learn what you like and what spots drive you crazy. But when he finally does enter you, he likes to start slow. Maybe just warm his cock for a little bit and just enjoy the feeling of you around him. He’ll rock out once very slowly and gently, and just watch your face contort in pleasure. Encouraged by your moans (and maybe you asking him to go faster or harder), Marcus will pick up his pace.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are part of the territory when it comes to being a hero. Sometimes there just isn’t the time Macus would like to make love to you, but he still wants you. Sometimes he’ll take you to a closet, bathroom or empty room in headquarters for a quickie when he gets back from a mission and is running on adrenaline.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Marcus is open to an extent. He isn’t into anything super kinky but if you want to try something he’ll give it a shot for you. He’s also not a super big risk taker since he wants sex to be safe for both of you. He’s got enough risk in his daily life that he doesn’t feel the need to admit to his sex life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Usually he just goes for one long round, but sometimes he has a second round in him. Marcus takes his time with you for sure and he drags it out as king as he can. He loves to take the time for you both to explore each other and really pleasure each other. At times when he’s been away or too busy, he’ll want that second round with you, seemingly can’t get enough of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Marcus doesn’t own any toys himself, but he’s open to using some with his partner if they’re open to it. The first time you use one of your vibrators during sex, he’s almost too in awe to even move. He just buries himself in you and watches as the vibrations on your clit make you mewl and squirm. And he can feel the sensations too, and thinks to himself no wonder you like this so much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a tease for sure, but he doesn’t even realize it. When he’s wearing his glasses, you can’t help but stare because he looks so damn good in them. He’s so effortlessly handsome that he doesn’t even know the effect those glasses have on you. And whenever you watch him cook, you’re captivated by his arms. Again, he’s totally unaware. Sometimes, he’ll place his hands gently on your hips as he slips past you in the kitchen and the way he touches you immediately makes you heat up. You’re flustered while he goes about his business completely unaware. But you’ll make him aware later when you corner him in the bedroom...

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Marcus Moreno is a moaner. Boy definitely gets into the heat of the moment and sounds pour from his mouth. Where a lot of men are quiet during sex, Marcus is almost as loud as you are. He grunts while he thrusts into you, moans when you clench around him, and praises and your name spills from his lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is a talker in bed, and sometimes the things that spill from Marcus’ mouth surprise you both. It’s never anything too derogatory but Marcus can get dirty when he wants to. “You feel so good baby” or “You take my cock so well” or “You like when I fuck you like this.” Marcus is definitely big into dirty talk and he loves to talk you through everything. And of course he always tells you how much he loves you while he’s fucking you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Marcus is well endowed, but he doesn’t even realize it. Honestly he doesn’t even think much about it. He’s never been the macho type so he never felt the need to brag about it or even care about what he’s packing. As long as you love what he does, he’s happy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he spent so long without someone, Marcus does tend to have a high sex drive when it comes to you. He’s usually up for sex about four nights a week, as long as he’s not too tired from being a hero or a dad. But on those nights, he’s just as content to cuddle in bed and hold you close.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Between being a hero and a single dad, poor Marcus is always tired. So once he’s spent for the night, he tends to fall asleep fairly quickly. Sometimes he’ll have you wrapped in his arms with you on his chest and savors the warmth of your body. Other times, he’ll lay on your chest and enjoy the softness of your breasts and the sound of your heartbeat. Especially when you play with his hair and rub his scalp, it doesn’t take Marcus long to fall sound asleep.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Taking Control - Fred Weasley

Title: Taking Control Paring: Fred x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!!! Fem!dom/sub!Fred, teasing, dirty talk, blindfolds, bondage, face riding/female receiving oral, sex toys, unprotected sex, edging orgasm denial. Summary: Fred has been busy with work, and Y/N is determined to make him slow down and relax, even if she has to take matters into her own hands. A/N: for the anon who wanted some fem!dom with lots of teasing!! This really is like 2% plot but what else is new when it comes to my smuts haha. Anyway, feedback is always welcome!!!

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Getting Fred Weasley to slow down is no easy feat. His mind seems to be moving a mile a minute, with his body not that far behind. It’s what makes him the perfect prankster, since he’s always one step ahead of everyone, and it’s what initially attracted Y/N to him back when they were teenagers. Every day with Fred is different and unpredictable and she loves the way he always puts his all his energy and focus into whatever task is at hand. Especially when that task involves giving her attention. But lately Fred’s focus has been elsewhere, and it’s left her starved for his touch and his presence.

The joke shop has been getting busier and busier as time goes on, and Fred has been working overtime with his brother to keep up. They’re on the verge of launching a whole new line of Wonder Witch products and are planning a store expansion on top of their usual workload, meaning Fred has little time for her. And while Y/N can’t blame him, in fact she’s insanely proud of him, she just wishes he would slow down a little. She may be aching to be close with Fred, but every day the bags under his eyes get bigger and Y/N can tell he’s struggling to keep up. She just wishes there was something she could do to get him to relax, and after a few weeks of thinking she comes up with the perfect plan.

“Knock, knock,” Y/N singsongs as she pushes the door to the office open. It’s a Saturday, which means it’s the shop’s busiest day. Normally on Saturday’s Fred would come back upstairs to have lunch with Y/N, but with how crazy things have been he’s been working through his lunches to catch up on paperwork. And Y/N knows that means he doesn’t actually eat much food, so she’s taken it upon herself to deliver him lunch personally today to make sure he does.

“Hey, baby,” Fred greets, putting down his quill. He pushes away from his desk and invites Y/N to come and sit on his lap. As soon as she does he wraps his arms around her waist and presses his face into her neck, taking a deep breath in. “God I miss you,” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s neck.

Y/N’s hand tangles in the hair on the back of Fred’s head and she slowly starts to scratch at his scalp. He melts at her touch, and Y/N presses a kiss to his temple. “I just saw you this morning,” she teases lightly.

“You know what I mean,” Fred drawls, pulling away so he can look at her. “The only time we get to cuddle like this anymore is when we’re both asleep.” Fred grabs Y/N’s chin and tilts her head down so he can kiss her slowly. “I miss spending time with you.”

“Take tonight off,” Y/N suggests, kissing Fred briefly. “You’ve been working so hard, Freddie. I just want you to relax for a bit.”

Fred raises his eyebrows at the sultry tone Y/N has. She very clearly has plans for him, and Fred can feel himself already getting hard. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Y/N bites her lip as she winks at him. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

-

“Y/N? Where are you? I’m home,” Fred calls out as he shuts the front door. As soon as George closed and locked the door behind the last customer Fred was running up the stairs, and he’s still slightly out of breath as he kicks off his shoes and heads towards their bedroom. He’s let work take over far too much of his life, and he’s excited to see what Y/N has in store for them.

Fred walks right into the bedroom, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion when he finds it empty. “Baby?” Just as he’s about to turn around to leave the door shuts behind him and he feels Y/N press against his back as a piece of cloth covers his eyes.

“Hi Freddie,” Y/N greets quietly. She ties the blindfold tightly around Fred’s head as she starts to press open mouthed kisses to his neck. “You’ve been a naughty boy lately.” She moves around to Fred’s front slowly, letting her hand drag down his back as she goes.

Fred grins as a shiver runs down his spine. “Have I? he asks, his tone playful. Fred can already feel himself getting hard as Y/N pushes his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Not only has it been weeks since they’ve had sex, but Y/N has never taken control quite like this before. Usually Fred is the one in control and he loves being dominant with Y/N, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t find her even sexier for taking the lead.

“Mhm,” she hums as her fingers start to work at the knot of his tie. “It’s been far too long since you’ve last touched me, Freddie.” Y/N tosses his tie to the ground and starts to unbutton his shirt. She leans forward and blows a stream of air on Fred’s neck before nipping and biting at the goosebumps that erupt on his skin. “I’ve had no choice but to take care of myself.”

Fred’s cock twitches in his trousers at the thought of Y/N getting herself off in their bed, and he lets out a moan as she starts to suck on the sensitive part of his neck. The fact that he can’t see what Y/N’s doing just adds to the experience, each touch is unexpected, and it intensifies the pleasure he feels. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me touch you now to make up for it.” Fred goes to place his hands on Y/N’s bum, but she steps away before he gets the chance.

“Only good boys get to touch, Freddie. Gonna have to tie you up, aren’t I?” Fred groans at that, and it goes right to Y/N’s core. She steps forward again and finishes taking off Fred’s shirt. Once it lands on the floor with his other clothes, she starts to run her hands up and down his torso, letting her nails lightly scrape at his skin. “Such a dirty boy, wanting to be tied up,” she teases, flicking at one of his nipples.

Fred whines, and he has to clench his fists to keep from touching Y/N. He’s fully hard now, and as Y/N starts to fumble with his belt he can’t help but shove his hips forward. “Please,” he begs, though Fred isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking her for. He gasps when Y/N suddenly brushes the tent in his trousers, his hips lurching forward to try and follow her touch as it goes away. “No teasing,” he pleads. “Need you so bad, Y/N.”

“Such a needy boy, Freddie.” Y/N undoes the button and zipper on Fred’s trousers, and she sinks to her knees as she pulls them down to his ankles. She presses a few kisses to his cock through the material of his boxers, reveling in the noises it pulls from his throat. “But only good boys get what they want. And what have you been, Fred?”

“A naughty boy,” Fred answers. His voice is shaking from the pleasure coursing through his veins and he can feel precum bubbling on the tip of his cock. He gasps Y/N’s name as she suddenly pulls his boxers down, feeling terribly exposed for her.

Y/N bites her lips as Fred’s cock comes out, resisting her urge to lick the precum on the tip. Her core is dripping, but tonight is about Fred finally relaxing. She lets her finger lightly trace the vein on the underside of his cock, practically drooling as it twitches. “That’s right, Fred. You’re a naughty boy. Do you know what naughty boys get?”

“Punished?” Fred asks, swallowing thickly. He hears Y/N chuckle as she stands up, and suddenly her hand is wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him into a hard kiss. Fred kisses her back eagerly, just barely catching himself before he grabs her hips. Every cell in his body feels like it’s on fire, and even though he knows it’d be easy for him to overpower Y/N, he wants her to keep going.

“That’s right, baby. They get punished.” She grabs Fred hand and slowly guides him over to the bed, helping him to lay down on his back in the middle. Y/N grabs her wand off of the nightstand and gives it a wave, watching in awe as red silk ties wrap around Fred’s wrists and tie them to their headboard. The red fabric contrasts against Fred’s milky white skin perfectly and she can’t resist her urge to reach out and tug on the restraint. Y/N leans down and presses a soft kiss to Fred’s mouth. “You know what word to use if it gets too much, yeah?” Fred nods, and Y/N pinches his nipple hard, watching his mouth drop open to moan. “Use your words, Fred.”

“Yes, yes. I know what to say,” Fred says hastily.

“Good boy,” Y/N praises, stroking his cheek gently. She sets her wand back down and opens the drawer of the nightstand, reaching in to grab the toy she’d purchased in preparation for tonight. She sets it down on the bed before starting to get undressed herself. Y/N gets naked slowly, watching as Fred starts to writhe on the bed. Most of his body is flushed red, and a sheen of sweat has started to appear. His cock is rock hard, and the tip is beat red, and Y/N watches as a bead of precum oozes out and slowly drips onto his stomach.

Once she’s naked Y/N crawls up the end of the bed, settling down in between Fred’s splayed legs. She rubs his thighs slowly, watching his hips raise up in search of friction. Y/N starts to trail kisses up Fred’s thigh towards his crotch, just barely letting her lips brush his cock before kissing back down the other thigh.

“Please,” Fred begs, tugging on his restraints. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life, and he’s desperate for his release.

“What do you want, Fred? Good boys use their words instead of begging like a desperate slut.”

Fred swallows thickly, trying to decide what to do. What he really wants is for Y/N to stop teasing him and let him fuck her into the mattress, but he has a feeling that asking for that will only further her teasing. “Touch me, please.”

Y/N bites her lips, watching Fred’s chest heave with deep breaths. “Touch you where, Freddie?” She runs her hand along one of his shins. “Here?” Y/N then reaches up to trace his ab muscles. “Or maybe here?” She pinches one of his nipples then and she has to press her thighs together for relief when he lets out a deep moan. “How about there?”

“No, no. Not there,” Fred pants.

“Then where, baby?” Y/N asks, raking her nails down his torso. “Be a good boy and tell me where to touch you.”

“Touch my cock please, Y/N,” Fred begs, licking his lips. “Need to feel your hand on me. Wanna be your good boy.”

Y/N smirks and grabs Fred’s cock with a loose grip. “Such a good boy, Freddie,” she coos, starting to stroke him slowly. “Being such a good boy for me.” Spurred on by Fred’s moans and whines, Y/N reaches for the toy she had set aside earlier and keeps one part of it in her hand while she places the other part down next to her. “Feel good, baby?”

“Oh,” Fred gasps as Y/N’s hand twists the base of his cock. His hips are slowly rocking up to meet her thrusts, and he can already feel his orgasm building in his abdomen. “Feels so good, Y/N. Thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Being so polite.” Y/N strokes him a few more times, before deciding it’s time to enact the next part of her plan. “You’re being so good, Freddie. Are you ready for more?”

Fred nods wildly. “Yes please. Need more.” He figures Y/N is about to take him into her mouth, and he wishes she’d take the blindfold off so he could watch. Seeing his cock disappear between Y/N’s lips is his favorite sight and with how turned on he is it would probably push him over the edge.

“Okay, baby. Here it comes.” Y/N slowly rolls the silicon ring in her hand down Fred’s cock and as she settles it against the base of his cock she picks up the remote control with her other hand. “Ready?”

“Ready for what? Y/N what is tha- oh holy fuck,” Fred moans, his hips lurching off of the bed. Whatever Y/N has put on his cock is now vibrating at top speed and his whole body feels like it’s thrumming. Just as quickly as it started it, all of the vibration stops, and Fred lets out a long whine. “No, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good boy, please,” Fred babbles, tugging on his restraints.

Y/N chuckles and rubs Fred’s thigh to try and soothe him. “You are being such a good boy for me, baby.” Y/N presses a button the remote and the toy starts to vibrate again, this time at a much lower speed. Fred starts to let out breathy moans and pants, and the sounds go right to Y/N’s core. She can feel her wetness on her thighs, and she decides it’s time for her to get some pleasure as well. “You sound so pretty, baby. But I want you to do something else with that mouth, okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll do anything you want, just give me more, please.” The vibrations speed up slightly and Fred lets out a long groan. He can feel his orgasm steadily approaching, and he silently prays that Y/N lets him cum.

“Good boy, Freddie,” Y/N praises as she crawls up the bed, watching his body squirm and writhe from the pleasure. She settles on her knees next to his head and starts to untie his left hand. “Listen to me, Fred.” When Fred only nods Y/N turns the toy off again. “What do good boys do, Fred?”

“They use their words,” he responds. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Wanna be your good boy, I’m listening, I promise.” When the toy starts to vibrate at the same speed again Fred moans loudly. “Thank you,” he gasps.

“You’re welcome, baby. Now I’m going to untie one of your hands, but that doesn’t give you permission to touch okay? I’m going to sit on your face so you can worship my cunt with your tongue, and I want you to be able to tap out if you need to.” Y/N finishes untying Fred’s hand, but keeps it held against the headboard. “You’re going to keep it right here. Understand?”

Fred lets out a low moan. “Yes, I understand.” Y/N releases his hand then, and Fred’s desire to be a good boy must outweigh his desire to touch, because he doesn’t move it at all. Y/N rewards him by pressing another button on the remote, and the toy around him starts to pulsate. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Fred groans, his hips moving faster. “Can I eat your pussy now? Please, Y/N. Want to taste you. Want to show you what a good boy I am.”

Y/N can’t help the noise that comes out of her mouth and she straddles Fred’s face, her core hovering just above his mouth. “So eager to taste me, Freddie. Eat my pussy like a good boy and I’ll let you cum inside me.” Y/N lowers herself down then, and Fred’s tongue is immediately lapping at her wet folds, causing both of them to moan.

Fred starts to eagerly lick Y/N’s core, alternating between slowly fucking her with his tongue and flicking at her clit. Fred groans against her as Y/N starts to move her hips on his face, and she rewards him by increasing the speed of the vibrations. Fred lets his tongue rub and massage the folds of her pussy, collecting all of her juices. He moans at her taste, before starting to eagerly fuck her with his tongue. His hips start to buck wildly as his orgasm approaches, and just as he feels it start the vibrator is suddenly turning off again.

The whine Fred lets out when Y/N turns off the vibrator reverberates through her whole body, and she grinds down against Fred’s face harder. Her legs and arms have started to shake, and she can already feel her orgasm starting to build. “Sorry, baby. Can’t have you coming yet.” Y/N moans as Fred starts to nibble lightly on her clit, and she turns the vibrator on to its lowest setting.  “Fuck baby. Eating my pussy so good. Showing me how much of a good boy you are,” she praises.

Spurred on by Y/N’s praise, Fred starts to fuck her entrance again, wiggling his tongue around to try and bring her as much pleasure as possible. His hips start to move again, and Y/N increases the speed of the vibrator. Fred lets out a long moan as his orgasm starts to build again, but it quickly fades when the vibrator shuts off again.

“Such a good boy, Freddie,” Y/N moans. Her hips have started to work against Fred’s face quicker, and the way his tongue is massaged her walls has her close to orgasming all over Fred’s face. “So close, baby. Make me cum and then it’s your turn.”

Fred sucks Y/N’s clit between his lips, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and lightly nibbling on it with his teeth. He can tell that she’s about to cum from the noises she’s making, and Fred wants her to release into his mouth.

Y/N tosses the vibrator remote aside so she can grip the headboard with two hands, her hips now moving against Fred’s face with reckless abandon. Fred moans against her clit again, pushing Y/N over the edge. “Freddie,” Y/N moans as she comes, her whole body shaking as the pleasure washes over her. Fred’s tongue fucks her slowly as her hips slowly come to a stop, helping her to come down from her orgasm. Once she feels like she can move again, Y/N slowly gets off of Fred’s face and sits down on the bed next to him. His chin and mouth are wet from her juices, and she leans down to kiss Fred messily.

“You were such a good boy, Freddie. Made me cum so hard,” Y/N praises as she ties up the hand she had released before. She straddles Fred’s waist then and leans down to kiss him slowly. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, please,” Fred begs, bucking his hips up against her. He can hear Y/N chuckle, and suddenly she’s pulling at the blindfold around Fred’s face. When it’s finally off his face Fred squints, blinking a few times to readjust to the light in the room. The light behind Y/N makes her seem like she’s glowing, and Fred tugs on his restraints, desperate to touch her naked body.

“Sorry, Freddie. No touching allowed yet,” Y/N teases, leaning down to kiss him again. She reaches behind her to grasp Fred’s cock, slowly stroking him as she takes the ring off. “You ready for my pussy?” she asks, moving down Fred’s body so her entrance is hovering just above his cock.

“So ready, Y/N. Please fuck me,” he begs. “Need to feel you around me. Need to cum inside you.”

Y/N teases Fred’s tip at her entrance for a moment before slowly sinking down onto his cock. His cock stretches her out in a good way, and they both moan as Fred bottoms out inside of her. “Fuck, Fred,” Y/N whines as she starts to slowly roll her hips. “Such a big cock. Always filling me up so good.”

Fred’s hips twitch under Y/N, and the feeling of her walls fluttering and twitching around him makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. It feels like he’s been on the verge of an orgasm for hours, and his whole body aches with need. Y/N starts to lift herself off of him, and Fred places his feet flat on the bed, fucking up into her as Y/N slams back down.

“Did I say you could do that, Freddie?” Y/N asks around a moan. She works her hips faster against Fred, already able to feel her orgasm building again.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fred pants, stilling his hips. Watching Y/N’s breasts move as she bounces on him has left Fred breathless, and his hands keep clenching and relaxing in his restraints. “Just want to be a good boy and make you cum,” he groans, forcing his hips to stay against the bed.

Y/N waves her hand and Fred’s restraints fall away, and she collapses against his chest. “Go on then, baby.” Not needing to be told twice, Fred’s hands immediately grip Y/N’s hips tightly and he starts to fuck into her, chasing both of their orgasms. “How does my pussy feel, baby? It’s been so long since you’ve fucked it.”

Fred groans as Y/N clenches around him sporadically. “So tight, Y/N. Feels so fucking good. Missed your pussy so much, missed fucking you. Fuck I’m close.”

The tip of Fred’s cock drags against her g-spot with every thrust, and the movement of their bodies creates just enough friction against her clit to drive her crazy. “’M gonna cum, Freddie. You fuck me so good, baby. Come on. Cum for me. Fill me up Freddie, please.”

Y/N’s words push them both over the edge, and with a moan of each other’s names, Fred’s cock twitches as he releases inside of Y/N, her walls pulsing and fluttering around him as her orgasm shoots through her body. They both lay there together panting as they come down from their highs. Y/N winces as Fred pulls out of her, and he rubs her back slowly, keeping her pressed close to his chest.

“I fucking love you,” Fred chuckles, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead.

Y/N giggles and tilts her head up so Fred can kiss her. “You fucking love me? Or you love fucking me?”

“Can’t it be both? Cause it’s definitely both,” Fred responds with a cheeky grin. “It was really hot, you know. You tying me up and having your way with me. Maybe I need to be a bad boy more often.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and kisses Fred again. “You better watch yourself, Weasley. The ring I bought is supposed to make you cum, and the next ring I buy, will keep you from cumming,” she teases with a laugh.

[pines-troz]

Weekend With The Warners Chapter One - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO tasks Pinky and the Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 1,868

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962

This is a found family story with a good combination of fluff, humor, and mild angst. Contains Brinky and Non-Binary Wakko

Beginning AN: This is probably the most self-indulgent story I’ve ever written

On a dark and stormy evening, a mysterious figure entered a castle that overlooked a provincial village. Deep inside the gothic estate’s stone walls, the figure snarled as he trudged up the winding stairs, leading to the top floor. He let out a vicious cry as he opened the large wooden doors to the laboratory. 

Dr. Brainenstein, the lord of the castle, stood behind his chemistry set, the glass beakers obscuring his face. Upon hearing the door open, he dropped his studies and gazed upon the visitor with an eager smile. 

“Ah, Pigor, you’ve returned!” Dr. Brainenstein greeted his assistant with a confident grin. The scientist emerged from his chemistry set to reveal himself. He wore a fancy black coat, a satin purple shirt underneath a white collared shirt, and black pants. 

The monstrous shadow revealed to be a lanky and chipper mouse wearing a brown hood and a muted yellow tunic. “‘Ello, Dr. Brainenstein!” Pigor replied merrily, waving to his boss. The mouse carried a large brown sack with something moving about. 

Dr. Brainenstein slid down the table leg and eagerly approached his assistant. “How was the graveyard scavenging?” He inquired menacingly, whilst rubbing his hands. 

Pigor strained as he carried the large sack with his findings. “Oh, brilliant!” He cheerily answered. “You know, you would be surprised what the dead leave lying around.” 

“By the way, I’ve probably been in here a thousand times, but I’m always amazed at how beautiful your castle is!” Pigor complimented. 

“Thank you, Pigor.” Dr. Brainenstein acknowledged. “I employed only the top masons. Those schooled in the latest techniques of wall-stone craft.” 

The scientist curtly shoved his assistant off to the side. “Now, let’s see what you brought me!” 

Dr. Brainenstein eagerly opened the sack, expecting a horde of body parts for his latest scientific experiment, but was surprised to see the Warner children. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot huddled together and smiled at the mouse. 

“Hi!” They chorused, but Wakko belched loudly, blowing the scientist’s fur and jacket backwards like a strong gust of wind. 

“Sorry.” Wakko apologized, their cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. 

At that moment, Pinky and The Brain broke character and started laughing. The Warners soon joined in, and the five rode out their bout of laughter together. 

“Oh, classic Wakko.” Brain sighed as he wiped a tear from his eye. 

Pinky went by Brain’s side and wrapped his arm around the smaller mouse’s shoulder and turned towards the camera. “You better add this to the blooper reels! Zort!”

But the primal yell from the director brought the joyous moment to a halt. The five actors immediately huddled together as they were about to face the wrath of the man in the director’s chair. 

“What is this?” The director irately shouted. 

“Hey, Wellesley! Hope you don’t mind the surprise cameo!” Yakko replied with a playful smile to humor the irascible filmmaker. 

“Yeah, we just wanted to give our favorite mice a surprise visit.” Dot explained as she gently patted their heads. Pinky contentedly closed his eyes and began tapping his foot a mile a minute upon receiving the girl’s affection. Brain, too, was endeared by the Warner sister’s pats and smiled at her. 

“So I ate all the potatoes and we hopped into this sack!” Wakko concluded, happily stimming by flapping their hands around. 

“But the script says for Pigor to carry a large sack of potatoes and have Dr. Brainenstein to open up the sack and be squished by a pile of potatoes!” Wellesley angrily explained. “Now can someone get those pesky kids out of here and get back to the scene!” 

But before any of the crew members could intercede, Brain stepped forward, taking a defiant stand against the director. “Forgive me if what I’m about to say comes off as a crushing blow to your fragile ego, but I wholeheartedly disagree with your creative vision.” Brain argued. “I say we should keep the Warners in the short.” 

The intelligent mouse quickly retrieved the script from his coat pocket. “And one other minor criticism I have with the script is that I find the ‘wall-stone-craft’ pun to be awfully misleading.” Brain added with a stern frown. “While Mary Wollstonecraft was an illustrious writer, she did not pen the classic gothic novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Her daughter, Mary Shelley, wrote the book that this segment is parodying.” 

“Hey, the studio isn’t paying you to be a walking history book.” The director fired back. “And besides, potatoes are very funny.” 

“Perhaps in Idaho, but having a cameo appearance from the Warners would be keeping in the comedic spirit of Animaniacs in regards to rapid-fire visual gags.” Brain argued. “The kids are staying in the short, and that’s final!” 

Unbeknownst to The Brain, the Warners smiled as they watched their fellow co-worker stand up for them and make a compelling case for their inclusion. 

Pinky then rushed over to Brain’s side and faced the director. “Can the Warners stay in the segment? Pretty please, Mr. Director?” Pinky pleaded, using his best puppy dog eyes and simpering pout. 

Wellesley rubbed his forehead and gave in. “Alright, we’ll use the Warners, but the ‘wall-stone-craft’ pun stays. Now can we get back to filming please!” 

Brain smugly smiled, satisfied with the compromise. He then turned to face his dearest co-star. “Well Pinky, it appears that my excellent debate skills and your irresistible cuteness have saved comedy yet again.” Brain complimented, ruffling the taller mouse’s head. Pinky relished the small and gentle display of affection from Brain. 

“Aww, I thought I was the cute one!” Wakko sadly interjected. Dot merely rolled her eyes at her sibling’s protest. 

“Places people!” The director yelled. 

“Come on, sibs.” Yakko said as he stood up. His younger sibling followed suit and the three pulled up the potato sack and hopped their way towards the door entrance. Pinky followed the Warners and Brain immediately returned to his place behind the laboratory equipment. 

-                      -                              -                      -                        -   

Filming the rest of the segment went smoothly for the mice. Brain was able to ad-lib his rant after seeing the Warners in the sack, comparing their cameo to ‘layman’s detritus’. The mice were able to strike up a friendly rapport with the actress who played Drusilla in between takes. They listened to her fascinating background starting out as an extra on daytime soaps before making the move to horror movies and acting with heavy special effects make-up. Brain also managed to work in some improvisation near the final scene where he almost smooched his assistant in an earnest attempt to comfort him, knowing that the viewers would have a field day with that moment. 

Once they wrapped up filming the segment, Pinky and The Brain collected their paychecks and made their way through the Warner movie lot, holding hands as they strolled through the studio together. After years of wrestling with his repressed emotions and attending many therapy sessions, Brain finally professed his love to Pinky, and Pinky happily reciprocated his romantic feelings to Brain. The two started their courtship four months before they received the news that they would be returning to Animaniacs for the reboot. 

Brain ignored the curious stares from the other workers on the studio lot, instead focusing his attention on his hand, which was interlaced with Pinky’s. This was all so new to him. He was trying his best to navigate the challenging terrains of a serious romantic relationship. Thankfully, Pinky was ever so gentle and understanding with him. The taller mouse possessed strong emotional intelligence and he was able to help Brain let his guard down and help him come to terms with his own emotions. The smaller mouse was still slowly getting used to public displays of affection from Pinky. 

Pinky recognized Brain’s nervousness and started to make small-talk to keep his mind occupied. “Oh, that ‘Bride of Pinky’ segment was so much fun, Brain!” The buck-toothed mouse proclaimed. 

“Indeed it was” Brain politely replied with a small smile. 

“And your improv was on point!” Pinky praised. “Dr. Brainenstein trying to kiss Pigor after the loss of his monster wife was brilliant!” 

“Well, your performance was believable as always, Pinky.” Brain kindly complimented. 

“Yeah, I’m glad those last couple segments were more on the fun and heartwarming side.” Pinky added. 

Brain nodded his head. He was still bitter at the writers who penned that dreaded ‘Mousechurian Candidate’ script for a number of reasons. The material had angered him, but deeply disturbed Pinky to the point that he had been hiding himself in his trailer after each scene. Brain and Julia did their best to reassure their poor co-worker that they were only acting. But once they had received the scripts for ‘The Babysitter’s Flub’ and ‘Bride of Pinky’, Brain was relieved that the following segments focused on the comedic and affectionate relationship the two leads shared. This renewed Brain’s hope that the reboot would manage to retain the magic of the original series. 

Meanwhile, the Warners bounced around the movie lot, looking for a way to let out their energy. Yakko spotted Pinky and The Brain walking together. He stopped Wakko and Dot and gestured over to their co-stars. The three made one long leap towards the mice. 

“Hey, fellas!” Yakko greeted. “Listen, we just wanna thank you two for vouching for us earlier.” 

“We really appreciate you two standing up for us.” Wakko added. 

“Oh, your welcome.” Brain said. “It’s awfully rare that we cross paths in the show, but Pinky and I welcome your enthusiastic presence.” 

“Personally, I’ve always been an admirer of your sophisticated wit and earnest comedic chemistry.” Dot complimented. 

Pinky looked bashfully at Dot. “Zort! Oh you’re far too kind!” 

“Oh, I have something important to tell you two.” Wakko announced. “So I told my siblings this a while back, and I want you to know that I’m Non-Binary!” The middle child turned their hat around to reveal the pin of the Non-Binary flag on the front of their cap. “Egad, you have zero binaries? Why that’s incredible!” Pinky exclaimed as he eagerly shook Wakko’s hand. 

“That’s wonderful, Wakko.” Brain congratulated. “And could you kindly inform us of your pronouns?” 

“I currently use he/they pronouns.” Wakko answered. 

“Well, Pinky and I are very happy for you.” Brain kindly told the middle child. 

“Aw, thanks!” Wakko said with a sincere smile. Yakko playfully ruffled his sibling’s head, causing Wakko to give their older brother a soft shove. 

“Well, as much as I would love to converse with you further, Pinky and I need to go to the bank to deposit our checks, and return to the lab to discuss our plans for world domination.” Brain explained, tugging his taller partner along. “See you soon, children!” 

“Bye-bye kiddies!” Pinky addressed the kids with a friendly wave. 

“Bye!” The Warners chorused before bouncing about on their merry way back to the water tower. 

Unbeknownst to the mice and the Warners, they were being watched by Warner Brothers CEO, Nora Rita Norita, from the top floor of the WB office building. The businesswoman looked through the blinds and noticed the great rapport between the five actors. 

She flashed a menacing smile before releasing her grip from the blinds. 

Additional AN: So this chapter is mostly set up, establishing the friendly rapport between the Warners and the mice. 

Like my previous story, Those We Hold Dear, Pinky and the Brain work as actors and that most of the segments were filmed on the Warner movie lot (the period piece ones like How to Brain Your Dragon, Pinko and the Brain, Bride of Pinky, 1001 Narfs, and I added Mousechurian Candidate because of how poorly executed it was and the writers really did those characters dirty. And I was inspired by a post by @themurphyzone about episode 8 while referencing that episode in the story. While other segments like Ex-Mousina and Roadent Trip will be referenced later on in the story, occurred in-universe. 

And I chose to start the story with the characters filming Bride of Pinky because I loved that little cameo from the Warners and thought it would be fun to play around with the idea of what went on behind the scenes. Also, I decided to expand on that director who kept yelling when something went wrong while filming, and decided to name him Wellesley after the one of the producers of the reboot, Wellesley Wild. 

I also made the self-indulgent inclusion that Brain finally attended therapy because I love that grumpy little mouse and I wanted to at least have some of his emotional issues straightened out. 

As of now, this multi-chapter story is mostly complete, and I just need to add in some details in certain scenes, so I will do my best to post new chapters frequently. 

Thanks for reading! 

[howdoyousleep3]

“put you on something new”-- part 5/5

The frat!Steve x jock!Bucky College AU by @the1918​ and @howdoyousleep3​

Read Part 4

warning: internalized homophobia (Steve honey, bisexuality is a thing)

we found it fitting that we write the last part together and we hope you enjoy these 6900 words (can’t make that shit up) of smutty bro smut. 😘

Experiment.

That’s what Bucky had called this. An experiment.

People experiment all the time in college, right? The first time Steve’s frat had made Trash Can Punch, it had been an experiment (one that they didn’t repeat). The first time that he’d made out with a girl with a tongue piercing, it had been— shit, shit-fuck, now he’s imagining Lucky Bucky Barnes with a tongue piercing and—

If Steve does this, it will just be an experiment. It won’t mean that he’s gay. Bucky isn’t gay, after all; he’d just said so, just told Steve very convincingly that he likes to fuck girls and eat them out. And Steve likes girls, is actually quite talented at eating pussy he thinks, so if Bucky isn’t gay and Steve isn’t gay, then…

Then how would Steve putting Bucky’s dick in his mouth be gay?

“Rogers,” Bucky says, breaking Steve’s thoughts, “look at me.”

Steve tries to shake the low-key existential crisis from his brain and looks up at Bucky’s face— which is how he realizes that he hadn’t been looking at Bucky’s face before but had instead been looking at Bucky’s crotch, his open belt, his newly-undone button and zipper and what looks like tight black briefs.

“‘Sup?” Steve says, extremely way too casually, looking at Bucky’s stubbled face and his dark eyes like the other dude isn’t two seconds from whipping his dick out on Steve’s bed.

Bucky looks right at him and asks, “This okay?” and Steve can hear the unspoken implication that if Steve says “no”, Bucky will zip up and buckle up and head out, no harsh feelings.

Steve doesn’t want to say “no”, so he says what he wants to say instead which is—

“Yeah. Yeah, bro. ‘S’all good.”

Bucky’s lips quirk into an amused smile and his pause lasts only a few beats more before he’s hooking his thumbs into his own waistband, holding his hips off the mattress a bit so he can start to work his jeans and briefs down his thighs.

“All good, huh?” he says. “Well, I sure hope so… bro.” And Steve knows that Bucky is teasing him with the last word and why is that so hot? But he doesn’t have any time to think about it because. Because.

Because Bucky’s dick is— shit, it’s nice. It’s thick and veiny and uncut, which Steve thinks is pretty rad. It’s a little bit bigger than Steve’s own cock. In the back of his mind Steve is trying to think if he’s always had opinions about what constitutes a nice dick or if this is new, considering if there might have been some sort of subtle clue hidden in all those times he was watching totally-regular-straight porn and wondering if anyone ever made videos from the chick’s point-of-view.

Bucky Barnes has his really very nice dick out in Steve’s bedroom. He’s on Steve’s bed. It’s exhilarating and new and foreigh but Steve’s mind immediately tries to visit something more familiar, tries to think about what it is he usually does any other time a human being whips their genitals out while sitting on his mattress. He tries to think of what he would do if this were a girl, and if it were a girl Steve would be trying to get her all worked up and feeling a certain kind of way, he’d be putting on smooth music he’d— shit, should he put on some music? Does Bucky like Jack Johnson? Maybe he’s more of a Dave Matthews dude.

“Stop thinkin’, Stevie. C’mere.”

So Steve decides against music. Putting on a suitable playlist would require getting up and finding his phone instead of doing what Bucky is gesturing for him to do, what Steve wants to do, which is to crawl in closer so that’s what is doing and— does Bucky want him to sit in his lap? He’s on his knees and kneeling between Bucky’s thighs right now and trying to figure where his body is supposed to go when Bucky grabs the back of his neck and pulls Steve down for what is easily the most mind-blowing kiss Steve has ever received in his life.

Steve had not considered that giving another dude a suckjob might also include making out with said dude but now that he’s doing it, it really does make a lot of sense. Bucky sucks Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth in a filthy wet way that makes Steve’s groan and Bucky wastes no time using the opportunity to lick into Steve’s mouth. Steve thinks Bucky is almost showing him exactly how he likes to have his dick blown. Steve tries hard to take mental notes. It’s nothing like the shotgun-kiss from earlier because now there’s no much more intent behind it, feels like there is a goal at hand, like Bucky is trying to loosen Steve’s nerves with his tongue and his lips while he gets Steve’s mouth ready to suck his cock.

“Nurgh,” Steve vocalizes, upon Bucky pulling away and leaving Steve’s lungs bereft of oxygen.

Now that Bucky isn’t kissing him anymore Steve realizes that he’s still kneeling awkwardly on the mattress between Bucky’s legs, which means that when he’s looking at Bucky he’s looking down and from this angle Steve can see the dark brown length of his eyelashes, the spit-slick shine of his red lower lip, and below all of that— the proud jut of Bucky’s hard cock where it’s pointed towards his navel, the heavy look of his balls where the waistband of his briefs is tucked under them.

It’s only because Steve is staring downward that he notices Bucky reach a hand out, and before he can consider where that hand is headed it’s cupping the outline of Steve’s very hard cock, grabbing him through his shorts and boxers and drawing a noise from Steve that is so feminine and small it’s embarrassing.

“You ever had another guy’s dick in your hand, Stevie?”

But Steve can’t focus on any embarrassing noises he’s making, not when Bucky is taking Steve’s wrist in a circle of his own fingers and guiding his hand to Bucky’s cock. Steve’s arm goes without protest as he’s shakes his head in response to the question— nope, never jerked another bro off before— and he’s surprised to find how natural it feels to close his hand around the shaft and find the both new and familiar sensation of holding a dick in his hand.

“Oh,” is all Steve says.

Bucky’s cock is warm in his hand and very, very hard. Something inside Steve is immediately flattered by the idea that Bucky is that hard for him and he’s surprising himself with the way he’s preening inwardly at the thought, feeling some bizarre kind of confidence all of a sudden.

Bucky’s hand covers Steve’s own, still immobile where it’s gripping the other dude’s dick. When Bucky closes his fist around it Steve can’t help but admire the way Bucky’s big athlete palms look when overlapping Steve’s. His brain is thinking about how Bucky’s hands must look when they’re covering the broad and textured expanse of a football, but Steve’s not thinking about it for too long because Bucky is sliding their joined hands downward in a way that tugs back Bucky’s foreskin and reveal the wet, purpling tip and—

Huh, Steve thinks, as his belly makes contact with the mattress between Bucky’s thighs. When had Steve’s body decided that his face should be three inches from Bucky’s dick?

“Huh,” Bucky—now above him—echoes. “Look at that. Ain’t nearly as shy as I took you for. Damn, Rogers…”

And then Bucky is using their combined hands to guide his cock outward while he uses his other hand to push down on the back of Steve’s head, and Steve’s mouth opens wide on instinct.

“...I think you are gonna love this.”

Dicks taste salty. It’s the taste of pre-come and Steve knows that part already, because like any other regular dude he’s licked his own slickness from his fingers before. So the taste may not come as a surprise to him but the way his lips want so badly to wrap around the head of Bucky’s cock is, takes Steve a little off-guard, but the hand on the back of his skull feels good and grounding so none of that really bothers him right now.

“Open up— yeah, there ya go. Shit, Steve, feel damn good already.”

Steve…Steve isn’t sure that he’s ever been, like— praised before, at least not for sex stuff. It’s a new experience, and one that makes his own hard dick twitch in his pants and his hips press down into the mattress in search of relief, but he tries to keep his focus on his mouth as he lets it sink down over the velvet-hot shaft between his lips. He does it for what feels like a mile but is probably less than two inches before, oh, the hand on the back of his head is in his hair now and it’s telling him what to do, pulling him back and then pushing him back down until he’s sinking just a little bit further.

“Gotta tuck those teeth away, Rogers. More lip, more—ohh there ya go, yeah, more’a that, shit.”

Steve likes to think he does well with constructive criticism and he suddenly feels a little bit perfect when he listens to Bucky and then adjusts, covers his teeth with his lips the way he’s seen girls do when they blow him. He’s starting to really get why Bucky said he’s got dick-sucking-lips when the pressure on the back of his head increases and he rises to the challenge, trying to take in more but finding too much friction to sink down comfortably any further.

“Here, pull— off, yeah, hold up,” and then Steve hears the absolutely obscene sound of Bucky spitting into his own hand, sees Bucky bring it back down to slather an impressive amount of saliva around the base and give himself a few firm pumps. “There we go, c’mon, back on it. Know you like it.”

Steve’s hips fuck against the mattress a little bit when he hears Bucky talk to him like that, and he listens when the other man urges his to hold the base, to “jerk off what your mouth can’t suck”. He’s thinks he’s almost found a groove when Bucky starts to lay on the praise again, and he realizes that he’s moaning around the dick in his mouth, registers that the vibration of it might actually feel really good for Bucky and Steve’s skin breaks out in goosebumps and the noises of approval his football idol is making.

“There ya go, yeah—gettin’ better with the teeth stuff already, huh?”

And that— shit, Steve is here and he finds that he is fucking living for that shit, doesn’t even care what that means about him because he’s too focused on doubling down his efforts, hand suddenly flying over the base of Bucky’s cock while his mouth tries to impale his skull on it, slurping noises filling the room and—

“Woah, hey! Careful Rogers. Don’t gotta choke yourself on my dick just yet, here. Hang out. Take a breather.”

Steve is furiously disappointed in himself and his gag reflex, embarrassed by the way Bucky had to pull his head back to keep him from aspirating on his own spit when he had just been doing so good. He takes a few steadying breaths, as instructed, looking down at the cock in his hand and glaring at it like it’s an ally that’s suddenly betrayed him. But, no—he reminds himself—this disaster was his own damn fault, and then Steve feels bad. He gives the head of the dick an apologetic lick. It might be a suckle.

The hand in Steve’s hair has softened its grip but it still has his head suspended just a few inches above Bucky’s slobbery erection. The other man pries Steve’s fingers off and replaces the hand with his own, nudges Steve’s head down, says, “gonna jerk myself while you suck on my balls, Rogers, c’mon.”

Steve has apparently reached the point in the night where he no longer has to hear Bucky say everything twice. He can’t remember the last time a girl really played with his nuts but he feels like it’s probably intuitive, knows what he likes himself, feels good about his decision to lave his tongue over Bucky’s balls to get them wet with spit before trying to suck one into his mouth, carefully, because “teeth— uh huh, you know the drill.”

He finds that he takes to liking a little bit of ball worship just as much as he likes having Bucky’s dick on his tongue, likes the way Bucky’s hand urges him to press his face in to fully enjoy the experience. Steve is really feeling himself when Bucky starts to pile on the praise again in that way that gets his dick rutting against mattress again, humping his own bed like a dog with a nice-looking leg

“There ya go, shit. Not gonna say you’re a natural but—fuck yeah— you sure got spirit, dontcha? God damn.”

Steve kind of really likes the lewd sound of Bucky’s hand squelching with the spit covering his own cock. He lets the wet ball fall out of his mouth, plucks a stray hair from his tongue, leans back to admire the sight. Bucky apparently takes his keen interest for what it is because then he’s nudging his dick back towards Steve’s lips with a little bit of cooing, with a, “Mhmm, there it is, c’mon and take it back, fuck.”

Time has definitely started to melt a little, so Steve doesn’t know how long he spends with his mouth once again wrapped around Bucky’s cock— sliding in and out, slipping up and down in a way that he’s actually starting to get pretty great at— when suddenly there are fingertips pressing against the stretched outside of Steve’s lips. Steve has no idea why they’re there but he feels like he should open his mouth a little wider so he does, lets Bucky push those two fingers into Steve’s mouth alongside his cock. Bucky is a good dude about it, tells Steve how good he is for it, how he’s “takin’ it so nice,” waits until they’re drenched with Steve’s spit before sliding them back out.

“C’mere, get—pop your ass up. Like that. Gonna help you out now, okay?”

And Steve is just real fucking good at taking direction by this point, practically a damn solider, so he does as he’s told and gets his knees under himself a little to help lift his ass in the air. Bucky growls, uses the hand that’s still on the back of Steve’s head to press him down some, fucks up into his mouth once like he just can’t help it, and Steve—

—Steve is so good he doesn’t even fucking gag.

“Fuck,” Bucky swears, and Steve can hear the surprised laughter in his voice. “Look at you, you goddamn champ. Shit, fucking proud ‘a you Rogers, here, ass— yeah, c’mon, try’na show you somethin’.”

Bucky has yet to lead Steve astray tonight, has yet to introduce him to anything that Steve did not end up finding really quite agreeable, so he’s not even nervous when Bucky stuffs his hand down the back of Steve’s shorts, over his boxers. He honestly doesn't think twice about any of it until two of Bucky’s fingers are pressing down against Steve’s asshole. The cotton that separates it is apparently thin enough that Steve can immediately feel the tell-tale wet, that tiny bit of slickness that says these two fingers are the ones that were only just in Steve’s mouth.

“God, eager thing like you would just love havin’ couple’a fingers inside’a you. Gettin’ something in your ass always makes suckin’ cock better,” and Steve must have a really done a bang-up job when he was getting those fingers wet because the fabric of his boxers is practically soaked, lets him feel the pads of Bucky’s fingertips against that tense pucker— definitely feels it when Bucky lifts them just a inch and then smacks the tips back down against his hole. “Next time, Rogers.”

Steve— Steve has never even considered that someone playing with his asshole could actually be pleasurable. It makes sense, given that some chicks and gay dudes like to get it up the ass, and Steve probably understood all of that in theory, but in no universe or alternate dimension did Steve ever think that Bucky Barnes rubbing his wet boxers into his asshole while Steve sucked his cock would make him moan like a whore and rut his dick down into the sheets so hard and so fast that it gets the whole bed frame moving.

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew this would get’chu,” Bucky teases, works his fingers in circles twice as fast while he holds Steve’s head down onto his cock and tells him to, “fuck the bed, yeah, wish you were kneelin’ and I could reach down, pump a little pussy toy on your dick.”

It’s that last bit that makes Steve feel like he’s coming already, makes him howl out, but then Bucky pulls his fingers tight in Steve’s hair on just the wrong side of painful and it makes Steve groan and sputter, makes his orgasm back right the fuck up.

He’s irritated about not getting to come but not as much as he’s concerned when Bucky is pulling him off of his cock completely. Steve’s immediate thought is that he’s fucked up. He goes as he’s made to but gives Bucky a panicked look, body trembling a little as he feels the fingers withdraw from his shorts. He makes eye contact with Bucky for the first time since he started blowing him in this dark room and drools out, worried, “‘S not good?”

Before he has even the chance to wipe the back of his hand over his slick mouth Bucky is tugging on said hand, pulling him forward, but forward means—

“C’mere, big guy up and—there ya go, sit right up here, get nice and close.”

That means he has no choice but to slip and bump knees and somehow land in Bucky’s lap, his own thighs looking lithe and slim sitting atop Bucky’s powerhouse ones. The way Bucky just…just moved him where he wanted, just pulled Steve and manhandled him like a chick makes his next exhale come out a little whiny. It clicks in his brain a bit, why ladies want him to be a little rough sometimes with a little slapping or choking, because his gut is molten hot with just one pull and squeeze.

Would he let Bucky choke him, slap him in the face?

He lets out another whine at the thought, akin to a whimper, and Bucky’s hands squeeze tight at his waist, hands slipping under his shirt, before they’re sliding up to cup his jaw.

“Oh baby, s’good so good,” Bucky purrs into his mouth, hips pumping up in slow pulses, physically teasing Steve into joining him. He feels relief, expresses this relief, his hands coming up to grapple at the collar of Bucky’s shirt as the athlete dips his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve loves kissing, has always enjoyed handsy makeout sessions as foreplay, enjoys the way he and another person can work together and give and take. He loves how intimate it can be and how wet it can be, the way someone else’s tongue feels against his own, in his mouth, on his lips.

Steve thinks Bucky might have the nicest mouth he’s ever gotten his own on. He’s been with pushy girls, girls who command some of their give and take, but Bucky has a fat bottom lip and knows how to suck on Steve’s tongue and Steve just wants to follow. 

“Y’so good, Stevie, gotta sweet mouth. Can’t wait to keep havin’ you use it on me, gonna get real good at suckin’ cock aren’t ya?” 

He’s—oh he’s—they’re gonna do this again? Steve’s head spins at that thought for so many reasons, all surrounding what this means if he goes to suck dick again or if Bucky is going to do that thing with his fingers on his asshole or—

“Can hear you thinkin’. Don’t like it right now, shouldn’t be thinkin’. Should be squirmin’ and moanin’ and touching,” Bucky mumbles into his mouth, Steve digs Bucky’s mouth, and then Bucky’s hands are leaving his face and running down to his waist, his ass. They feel, oh they feel good, pleasurable. It leaves Steve gasping, rolling his hips but being cognizant of Bucky’s dick out and against his shirt, the sin of some exposed stomach. Bucky’s hands are big, so capable, good for grabbing ass and for catching game-winning interceptions.

Steve is equally impressed with both.

“Shit, Rogers you got yourself quite the peach here, don’t ya? You’ve probably never let anyone put their dick in it n’that’s a worse shame than this mouth not gettin’ one...” 

Maybe Steve should be freaking out about the sudden thought of a dick being inside his ass but he’s distracted because Steve has never had anyone compliment his ass in such a way and he can’t help but feel a little…sweet? Is that what this is? Like he feels when he blushes when he gets a round of high fives from the boys for a sick touchdown pass in flag football or that one time he went an entire round of Team Death Match on Call of Duty without dying and he and his buddies creamed the competition. He’s proud of his ass in the same way in this scenario but this kind of compliment has him a little more breathless, makes him move forward to press their mouths sloppily together. 

“And this waist? Shit, Rogers,” Bucky groans, his hands moving up to knead and squeeze tight at Steve’s sides, “Like a little lady, ain’t ya?” 

Steve shouts. It’s a little noise, aggravatingly a feminine one to tie right into Bucky’s accusation, but the way Bucky’s hands feel almost encircling his entire waist and hearing those words in that gruff voice? Steve feels like he has no choice but to make such a noise. It makes him want Bucky’s dick back in his mouth, makes him want to mouth and slurp at his balls some, makes him want to hear more sweet words even though he literally just got some.  

What the fuck is going on?

Steve doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to get wrapped up in his head like he so easily can sometimes, especially in Calc class. But he isn’t sitting in Calc right now. He’s sitting in the lap of Lucky Bucky, wiggling, whimpering like a bitch in heat as he practically begs for kisses on the other man’s lips.

“Take your dick out, Stevie, come on.” 

The command is pressed into his lips, against his chin, Bucky giving him kisses and bites—oh god, nibbles—on his jawline as his hands still dig into his sides, his waist. Steve finds himself tilting his head to the left, gives Bucky more room to work with because shit that’s nice, that’s nice. How has he never done this? Has he done this to a girl? Why hasn’t a girl done this to him? 

“Dick, Rogers let’s go. Wanna show you somethin’ else.”

Ignoring the way the back of his neck burns at the command coupled with another tight nip at his ear, his hands leave Bucky’s neck and go for the button and fly of his own shorts. He only has the few seconds he fumbles with his clothing, his waistbands, to focus on the fact that Bucky is about to see his dick, is probably going to touch his dick. He doesn’t know how to feel about his urge to impress the other man, the burn of hoping Bucky likes what he sees.

He’s never cared about whether or not a girl liked his dick; he has always known it’s a crowd pleaser. He’s never felt more pressure to show up than with this crowd of one though. 

The cool air hits his dick for maybe three seconds before it’s engulfed in heat once more and—

Fuck, Bucky is touching his dick. Bucky has his hand on his dick.

“Look at that, Rogers. This dick is as pretty as you are shit, baby.” There’s that word again—baby. He likes that word. He likes the way it sounds in his ears, the way it bounces around his brain like a Beer Pong ball, the way Bucky’s lips look when they purr it out. He likes Bucky calling him something he is so used to referring to women as. 

Bucky’s fingers are different from anything he’s ever felt. They aren’t a girl’s, tentative and slim, and they aren’t quite his own, familiar and albeit a little rough. They are somewhere in between the two, thick and capable yet gentle and firm and it knocks the fucking wind out of Steve’s lungs when Bucky makes a fist and tugs.

“Oh, oh f-fuck,” Steve stutters out, all hot air as he inadvertently presses his forehead to Bucky’s in a jerky movement as he looks down. He is in no way prepared for the way his dick looks like in a dude’s hand, in Bucky’s hand, is also not prepared for the way his everything reacts. 

This shit is dope and Steve thinks that’s an understatement.

Steve doesn’t know if he’s seen anything hotter than this. Bucky’s hands are big but Steve doesn’t quite realize how big they are until he’s got Steve’s dick in his fist. Bucky takes a few strokes, some time, to get acquainted with his cock, much to Steve’s unfamiliar delight, and makes his deepest noise yet when they both watch a drop or seven of his own precome leak from the tip. 

He thinks it’s mortifying, feels a bit like an easy slut, but Bucky marvels, “Ain’t that a sight, goddamn,” and tugs a bit more on his cock. Steve doesn’t say anything in response, almost entirely useless at this point, but he watches as Bucky touches his dick, strokes him off, and it makes his hips twitch, makes him sound like he can’t keep his head above water.

His knees dig hard into the mattress, tries his hardest to not sound like he needs to be resuscitated, but he watches as Bucky opens his palm and gruffs out, “Spit.”  

Spit? Like…spit? Into what? Bucky’s hand? Why would—

“Stick with me, Stevie come on now—Spit. Doesn’t need to be anything aggressive like you see in awful porn; just give me something to work with here.”

Bucky is still as calm as he has been throughout this entire ordeal, this night that feels simultaneously forever but not long enough, but there is an edge to his voice now, a bite to his actions. He’s being patient with Steve but it seems his own dick is at the forefront of his mind now that he’s seen Steve’s, now that he’s sucked Bucky’s cock, now that he’s here in his lap.

Steve’s brain short-circuits the connection that in situations such as this, people tend to get off, tend to make each other come, and that’s what’s happening here, that’s what’s going to happen. Bucky and Steve are going to—

He manages to push a glob of spit from his mouth and into Bucky’s hand, watches it fall and barely hit the football player's palm. Both he and Bucky make a noise, his a whimper as he tries to pump his hips, his dick, and Bucky’s is another one of those damned groans. Steve’s mind runs, spins, tilts and all he can manage to say as Bucky grabs both of their dicks in one hand is—

“You’re gonna make me come.”

Bucky stills.

“You’re gonna—? I’m not—”

“No! No, no you’re—you’re gonna make us come, you’re gonna—” 

Bucky’s hand moves a few seconds later, a bark of laughter bitten into his chin in realization of what Steve had meant and not what he had said. 

“Yeah, Rogers—I’m gonna make us come.” 

Fuck. Fuck, okay yeah. His dick is touching Bucky’s, is encased in a meaty palm and is just fucking pressed up right there against Bucky’s. It’s hot and slick and wet and fuck it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, Steve can’t keep his wits about him. Bucky’s grip is tight, his own spit coating their dicks as if they even needed it, as if Steve wasn’t leaking like a faucet already. 

“Gotta breathe, kid. Breathe,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear, his head basically having fallen onto a broad shoulder, eyes still downcast. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing, didn’t want a single thing to take away from everything he is feeling, would rather die than not experience this in the fullest. He heaves in a few hefty breaths, cups his hands unintentionally around the column of Bucky’s throat. 

“Holy shit,” Steve hisses, words going desperate and turning into an almost hysterical groan, one that shakes his chest. Bucky’s fist is slow to move at first, slow sensual pumps, trying to get the hang of jacking off two dicks in one hand, as if Bucky needs practice. His fingers around Bucky’s neck dig into the hair there and fuck, he was right—Bucky’s hair is so fucking soft. It makes Steve wonder what other places on Bucky’s body are soft.

He barely notices Bucky’s other hand, the one not wrapped around both of their dicks, digging into his hip, kneading at his ass. It’s yanking, pulling at Steve’s hip as if Bucky wants him to move some, so he does what feels right and rolls his hips a little. Just like kissing, he feels the two of them work together, give and take to make them both feel so fucking good. This moment is what will pop into Steve’s mind any time he hears the word teamwork. 

“Bring that mouth back over here, c’mon,” Bucky breathes into his jaw but Steve wants to keep watching the other dude’s fist fuck over their dicks, fuck Bucky’s cock is touching his own, shit. Steve’s hips are twitching still, little pumps in time with Bucky’s hand, and he tears his head away and turns blindly with a sad little noise. 

Jesus Christ, Bucky has such a nice mouth. It makes his balls ache (oh god, are their balls touching too?), makes his gut turn, having Bucky’s hand on his dick and his tongue in his mouth. Steve can barely keep up, Bucky’s experience with this whole dude thing glaringly obvious compared to Steve’s own. He keeps his mouth open, keeps it moving, presses his tongue forward to slide against Bucky’s own in a movement that sends sparks down his spine. 

He isn’t sure he’s doing anything right, if Bucky likes kissing him until the brunette is pulling back with something short of a growl. 

“Fuck, Rogers bet you eat pussy like a champ with this mouth.You make ‘em scream with that tongue? Huh?” 

The last thing Steve needed Bucky to bring up in this moment was pussy. His brain doesn’t know what to think about now, split in two entirely opposite directions. All he wants to focus on and think about is the way Bucky’s fist pumps hard over the two of them together, the way he’s a little uncomfortable with how much he digs the sound of his spit on their cocks. But now this? Pussy? Even Bucky saying the word “pussy” has Steve moaning, has his fingers digging into chestnut hair and tugging. 

“Yeah, how could you not love eatin’ pussy? You love it, right?” Steve does. 

“Uh-huh,” Steve whines, nods his head against Bucky’s forehead before smearing his lips messily against his stubbly chin, pulling his eyes up to look at Bucky’s own. The fist around them tightens some more, makes Steve whimper through his teeth. 

“Fuck, you’d look so sweet with your face between a broad’s legs. I’d love to see that, d’love to watch this mouth work a pussy over,” and then Bucky’s licking into his mouth, tongue slipping across his bottom lip, straight up across both lips and Steve can’t help that he thinks about two things: Bucky showing him how he himself eats a pussy but against his own lips and Bucky fucking watching Steve eating a chick out. 

“Ohh,” is all Steve can spout out in response, his hands slipping back down to Bucky’s neck, his chest. Bucky’s fist is moving and he can’t help but look down, he wants to look down (??), wants to see their cocks hot together but wants to keep thinking about Bucky laying in bed with him and a girl. 

“Ah Jesus, Stevie I could take her mouth and she could have yours. Yeah? Wanna see me fuck a girl’s mouth while you make her come like the fuckin’ stud you are? Huh?” Steve doesn’t even need to think. 

“Fuck, fuck, yeah shit...yeah, dude yeah I’d—” 

Steve doesn’t even know what he’s about to say, his knees digging into the mattress with vigor, the headboard smacking against the wall for the second time that night. He’s losing his rhythm and feels like he’s sprinting to a finish line, can’t take his eyes off of Bucky’s steel-blue ones. It must feel like he’s trying to get away, it even feels that hysterical to Steve, because Bucky lurches forward a bit, wraps his spare arm tight around Steve’s waist. 

“Keep her lil’ pussy busy while I fuck her mouth, god, you’d be so sweet like that, wouldn’t you? So sweet for me?” 

“Fuck, uh-huh yeah so fuckin’ sweet, so sweet.” He’d be anything Bucky wanted him to be if he asked. Bucky wants sweet he’s got it; Steve will do it for him. 

“Fuck yeah you would, so sweet for me, baby,” and Bucky’s voice changes, alters, gets a little breathless, hand stutters over their cocks and gets a little messy. Steve wants to toss his head back and shout to the ceiling at hearing Bucky call him “baby” again. He loves it so much, loves being someone else’s baby, loves how it makes him want to blush and kiss Bucky on the cheek. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t even know who he is anymore. 

Bucky’s mouth mashes into his own, his breathing punched out with every roll of Steve’s hips, every downstroke of his hand. He’s panting into Steve’s mouth, heavy and wet, and Steve knows what this is, feels it himself. 

They’re going to come. 

Bucky is going to come and Steve is going to come and they’ll come together and Steve will get to see Bucky’s come and that is not something he ever knew he wanted to see. He thinks Bucky notices it too, makes his own whiny noise that sounds nothing like Steve’s, presses a line of slippery kisses up Steve’s cheek to his ear. 

“Y’think she’d like to sit back and watch me get my mouth on your pussy?”

Steve is going to come. 

“M’gonna—! Oh shit!” 

“Shit yeah, me too come on, come on, Steve lemme see you blow that pretty load all fuckin’ over me.” 

“I’m—oh fuck— ’m gonna nut, Buck I’m—” 

Steve enjoys orgasms. Who doesn’t? He likes the waves of pleasure, tends to be a little loud, enjoys seeing someone else come too, but this orgasm isn’t like anything he’s ever experienced in his life. He almost panics when he feels his balls draw tight (fuck, their balls are still touching), gasps when he gets caught up in that last second before he crashes over that cliff. 

He feels his fingers dig into Bucky’s hair, can tell that Bucky’s mouth is moving against the side of his face, whether it be from something that resembles kisses or from speaking is lost on Steve. He is far too focused on letting himself feel and letting someone be in almost total control of his own orgasm. He can’t stop making noises, ones that sound like he’s choking, is sure he’s saying Bucky’s name, can feel his own fucking come slick up Bucky’s hand even more. 

He thinks Bucky says something about him coming, but like everything else it’s lost on Steve. His hips are still pulsing, as his his cock, hands unable to choose one spot on Bucky’s body to lock onto, manages to look down between their bodies just in time to—

“Fuck yeah—” 

See Bucky come. The noise Steve makes sounds like one that indicates he’s in pain but the only pain he feels is never having let a guy give him a handjob before. He’s almost worried he’s going to come again when he hears the noise Bucky makes, a deep one but one that sounds a little like a sob, one that Steve wants to soothe with a kiss or some shit. Steve’s orgasm is one that is long, so long, one that he gets to enjoy right alongside Bucky. 

“Bucky, god I’m still—fuck.”

The other man chuckles into the hinge of Steve’s jaw in response, a noise a mixture of disbelief and his own pleasure. The arm around his waist gets uncomfortably yet perfectly tight, Bucky taking the opportunity to press his own hips up, to practically lift Steve in pulses as he lets his orgasm take him away a bit. His hand is still moving, still pumping wetly over the two of them, but they are long tugs, ones that milk the two of them together, together. The noises are filthy and wet, just like the ones that push him over the edge when he watches porn.

Bucky’s groans in his ear make his spine tingle, make him tip his head down and look between their bodies. 

Steve has come on his dick. It’s Bucky’s come. Mostly.

This is fine.

The room around them— the spaces beyond Bucky’s mouth and Bucky’s skin— slowly comes back into Steve’s awareness. It is a room. It’s Steve’s room, and he’s in Bucky’s lap. This is his room and it’s the same room where Steve just sucked a dude’s cock and kinda ate his balls too and this— this is the room where Lucky Bucky Barnes called him “sweet” and called him “baby” and those things made Steve feel really, really good and then his personal hero jerked them both off until they came and now Steve is looking down at their come and their softening dicks and realizing that he doesn’t know where his come starts and Bucky’s come ends.

This is. This is fine.

Steve can feel Bucky’s gravelly chuckle before he hears it. The larger man’s arm is still around his waist, still pulling them close, but it starts to loosen up as Bucky’s head tilts back and hits the wall with a thud.

“Chill out, Rogers,” Bucky laughs. “I just made you come like a fire hose. Enjoy the fuckin’ afterglow.”

Steve faintly registers that he must still be a little bit high because he’s reeling but he’s not totally freaking out, all things considered. And Bucky is, just… cool. As ever. Steve should be cool, too. Steve should enjoy the afterglow like Bucky says he should.

“But, uh, hey— not that I’m not really likin’ having you in my lap an’ all, but…”

Steve looks up at Bucky’s face, confused, sees Bucky’s funny little grin and his gesturing glance downwards, follows said glance with his own eyes like he’s going to look down and find literally anything other than two soft cocks and Bucky’s come-coated hand and—

“Oh, shit. Yeah dude, lemme…”

Steve feels like a newborn colt— stumbling, and also holding his open shorts up— when he finally extracts himself from Bucky’s lap and goes to find a towel for them. He wipes off his own dripping dick with one end before handing the towel over to Bucky. Bucky takes it with a roll of his eyes, uses the exact same end of the towel to wipe his hand and his own dick because oh, yeah, that’s both of their come mixed together so who gives a shit.

He’s watching Bucky clean up when it hits him: this was a one-night stand. It’s— it’s Bucky Barnes, for god’s sake. Of course he’s gonna fuck whoever he wants and never see them again. Steve fully intends to sort through all that is implied by the fact that he doesn’t want to be Barnes’s hit-it-and-quit-it but he is one hundred percent positive that he does not want that, wants to hang out with this dude again, preferably in a sexual capacity but he’s open to whatever. 

Steve mentally sorts through how to solve this problem as he sits down on the edge of the mattress. Bucky hasn’t said anything since Steve got up. He doesn’t look uncomfortable; the opposite, actually. Bucky is looking at Steve with an amused quirk to his lips like he knows everything that Steve is thinking and is highly interested in whatever Steve is going to do next.

Right. So. Steve just got handsy with someone he met at a party. He wants to see that someone again. Steve makes up his mind, decides to do what he would do any other time he’s found himself in this situation.

“Hey, uh,” he mumbles, “can—can I get your number.”

find the full fic on Ao3

[callmemythicalminx]

The Last Of Us 2: We Need To Talk About It

*Spoilers ~ ye have been warned!

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I’ve held this off for as long as I could, but I’ve given up resisting- we need to talk about The Last of Us 2. It’s an incredible masterpiece, there’s no doubt about it. The graphics are beautiful and incredibly realistic, and the gameplay has made bounding leaps in progress since the first game, offering a more exciting and intense experience for the player. The actors have of course done incredible jobs and the sound design is amazing. Altogether, a pretty amazing game… Except for one thing- the story.

The first game was widely loved for many reasons, but most prominently, and I’m sure many will agree with me on this, the story and the characters are what made it stand out and still hold up to this day. Joel and Ellie are amazing characters, incredibly complicated and realistic. The former was a man we as players grew to love, after seeing the horrible pain he had to go through and the hardships he faced. We saw him do unspeakable things, hurting and killing many, all in the name of survival. But still, we cared for him, because we saw him grow to love too, risking all to keep his new daughter safe. Ellie was a young kid, forced to grow up too soon in a world that didn’t really care about her. Faced with the fact that she was the possible saviour of humanity, she had the weight of a brighter future on her shoulders. In each other, these two characters found someone to care about again. Joel saw the daughter he lost and couldn’t protect. Ellie saw a father who wouldn’t leave and would help keep her safe.

After seeing the bittersweet ending of the first game, we waited for 7 long years to see Ellie and Joel return to our screens once more. Trailers promised new adventures with the pair, as well as the much-anticipated impact of Joel’s actions after taking Ellie from the Fireflies and stopping the creation of a possible cure. Even when leaks about the story were released, the majority of fans held strong to the belief that Naughty Dog would lead us well and would give us a great sequel to finish off an incredible generation of progress, leading us into a new age of video game storytelling.

Oh, how wrong we were…

Make no mistake here- I know Joel isn’t a hero. What he did at the end of the first game was incredibly selfish. I’ve always seen him as an anti-hero because of his sometimes cruel and violent actions and that can’t be forgotten. Undeniably though, he is still such a beloved character, who we can’t help but connect too because he’s human and vastly complicated. He was also living in a world where people are doing much worse things to survive. Darker, more evil actions that weren’t close to anything Joel ever did. Can he really be blamed for some of his actions, when seeing what other surivors had done? When I first played The Last of Us, I couldn’t help but sympathise with him, especially as I saw him slowly become more caring again after meeting Ellie. He’s incredibly interesting too in terms of characterisation because he’s neither good nor evil- he’s just human, trying to survive in a nightmare world.

Obviously, playing as Joel made a world of difference as to how we perceived him and whether or not he was a hero or villain. If we’d been playing as a completely different character, perhaps a Firefly, we would have most definitely seen him in a different light. This is where Abby comes in. I’ll give Naughty Dog credit here, it is a really interesting concept to introduce a playable character who’s seen the other side of our famous duo’s actions. It’s a great way to make us think even more about the consequences and the effect we have on our environment. As the daughter of the lead surgeon meant to operate on Ellie, Abby has seen the negative effects of Joel’s actions first hand.  This opens up a widely explorable concept for the player to experience, offering a new complicated character who has seen her own pain and hardships just like Joel and Ellie did. She’s sure to be liked… Right?

Unfortunately, no.  

In the span of two weeks, Abby has become one of the most hated gaming characters of all time. The reason why- bad storytelling.

I understand what the game was trying to do, I really do. I see what the story was trying to tell and portray, but the writing and pacing ruined this before the game had barely even started. I know I can speak for most when I say that I was expecting Joel to die, either it be naturally or inflicted by someone (or something) else. Naughty Dog know how to tug players’ heartstrings, as we saw at the start of the first game when Sarah was killed. It was bound to happen, though I didn’t really want it to. Joel deserves a worthy death, one befitting of his character which would complete his arc and bring a conclusion to his story. What we got instead was single-handedly one of the worst character deaths ever presented in a video game.

Joel dies at the hands of Abby, less than 2 hours into the game after we’ve seen him for only 10 minutes or so. He and his brother Tommy willingly walk into a very suspicious situation, in the most stupidly uncharacteristic way, revealing their names and where they’re from. They say this to a group of 10-20 strangers, in a building where they can easily be ambushed and restrained. Abby is at the helm of this group, driven to Jackson for one thing- the need to avenge her father who Joel killed. After hearing who they are, the group is obviously more alert and ready to strike. Joel then says, and I quote ‘Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or something’… Bear in mind here, that our Joel from the first game knew he was a wanted man and that he couldn’t trust anyone. Hell, he didn’t even trust Ellie for a good while before he started to care for her. But here he willingly gives his name and acts shocked when it’s recognised? This is not the Joel we know, who’s incredibly smart and can see a trap a mile off.

In one of the most sickening occurrences I’ve ever seen in a video game, Abby then shoots Joel in the knee with a goddamn shotgun. Tommy, of course, jumps into action to help his brother but is quickly restrained and knocked out. While listening to Joel’s horrific groans of pain as he lays wounded on the floor, Abby then has the audacity to ask him to ‘Guess’ who she is? Other than the fact that this is incredibly cringy, there’s no way in hell Joel would have the faintest clue who she is. He doesn’t run a family check on everyone he kills, does he? She could be the daughter of a random soldier he killed or some other nobody.

Ever a badass till the end, still having no clue who she is, Joel tells Abby to get on with whatever she has planned. She gets someone to tourniquet his leg while she collects her weapon to end his life- a golf club of all things. After calling him a ‘stupid old man’, something that both upset and pissed me off too much, Abby then begins to start beating Joel to death. You play as Ellie now, as she tries to find him. She enters this group’s hideout to see her father hunched on the ground, curling in on himself, spasming because of numerous brutal hits he’s received to his head. His face is bloody and bruised, his eyes barely open as a pool of blood spreads around him. We feel the horrendous pain Ellie does as she’s quickly restrained and forced to watch Joel meet his death. She begs, rambling for him to get up and leave, but there’s nothing she can do.  Ellie’s horrified cries are ignored as she begs for mercy and with a sickening crunch, Joel receives one final brutal blow to the head.

And he’s gone. Like that.

If this was written true to the character we know and love, Joel would have never entered that building and given his name that easily. Neither would’ve Tommy. These are two seasoned veterans of a zombie outbreak, who have seen the horrid measures people will go to when provoked or desperate. Is the game really trying to tell me that they’d trust a bunch of suspicious-looking kids, walking willingly into a crowded area with no weapons, standing apart instead of together? Joel didn’t trust anyone in the first game, why would this change?

Regardless of the fact that he’s in Jackson now, which is ‘friendly to travellers’, and that he’s grown ‘softer’, he’s still not gonna be trustworthy of strangers. By and by, Joel is still a wanted man and he knows this, he took away the world’s chance at a cure for Pete’s sake. Secondly, this is plain and simple a terrible death for Joel. Not because of how he died (because this is a zombie apocalypse, after all, it’s going to be brutal even if it’s awful to see) but the fact that this happens the way it did and the placement of it. There’s no closure to his character arc or to the rift between himself and Ellie that’s, at this moment, unknown to the reader. He didn’t die saving Ellie, which as cliche as it sounds, would have juxtaposed beautifully with Sarah’s death at the start of the first game. Imagine how satisfying it would have been to see that Joel would be willing to die for Ellie after he’s been focused only on surviving and himself. Imagine if he’d died in Ellie’s arms just like Sarah did in his…

The timing is also really bad considering we’ve barely seen any of him in the two hours we’ve played. When we see Joel die, it doesn’t feel as impactful as it could’ve been. We haven’t seen any new or old encounters with him and Ellie, except for the small seconds at the start as he retells the end of the first game. We haven’t had a chance to fully reconnect with him. His odd actions further distance us away from him because he’s not acting like he usually would. Therefore we’re left with a horrifying death that feels hollow, strange and disconected.

Abby does not help make this scene any better, which is a shame, because I think if different choices were made to push this death further in the game, we could have had a chance to care for her or at the very least begin to like her. Instead, we have no clue as to who she is or what her motivations are before this. All we know is she’s looking for someone. To then see this new character kill someone so beloved, in the most brutal way… Players are gonna hate her immediately! I hated her immediately! And like I said, her dialogue in this scene is atrociously bad, especially when she insults Joel. That really felt like you were adding salt to the wound there Naughty Dog.  

Imagine if you will, what a better death or a change in chronological order of Joel’s death could have done to help the story. If we’d got to know Abby more, playing as her for longer than two hours, she might not have been as hated. The player could have begun to like her and sympathise with her, slowly realising who she is and at the same time, seeing the damage Joel has caused in his selfish decisions. She could have still killed Joel, but towards the end of the game, so that the player would have felt more conflicted about her doing it after seeing her past, seeing the pain that she went through. The game could have reminded us that Joel is still an anti-hero. Imagine that? If the game had made us admit to ourselves that, though it’s painful to watch, his death might have just needed to happen to make up for the loss of everyone he killed? It could still have fit the environment they’re in too, with a brutal and harsh death that could’ve come out of nowhere, but still felt justified in the story. Tess in the first game had a brilliant death, befitting of her badass character, yet still shocking and realistic to the world she lived in. Instead of becoming a zombie, she instead let herself be shot after bravely standing outnumbered against the enemy while Joel and Ellie escaped. It was a great death and Joel had every right to one of his own. 

Maybe he didn’t even need to die for his actions at all though? Let’s not forget that he’s not the only one who has done bad and unspeakable things in this broken world the characters live in. He’s not irredemable, he’s a complicated human being who has had to adapt to the world around him. Think about some of the groups we came across in the first game- is Joel really worse than them? Yes, he took away the world’s chance at a new begining, but did it even deserve to start again after seeing how horrid people had become? Imagine if your loved one was sacrificing themself for a world that didn’t deserve it? Imagine if the cure might not even work or be possible to create, would you really just let them die? Joel’s only human, he acted with his heart instead of his mind. I have no doubt that Abby would probably do the same, or Ellie, or any other character who had those same choices ahead of them. Joel’s actions were selfish, yes, but he shouldn’t have to die for it. I wouldn’t want to lose someone I cared deeply about, just for a possible cure that would save an unworthy world.This is why we aren’t finding fault with the fact that Joel died, it’s HOW and WHY it happened that’s got us so pissed off.

What makes his death and the story even worse is the ending of the game. All the pain and trauma Ellie goes through killing all of Abby’s friends to find her becomes worthless. Why- she lets her go free. After fighting her twice and losing her fingers during one of those fights, Ellie suddenly has an epiphany and realises that revenge isn’t the answer. She lets Abby go. Once again, I understand what Naughty Dog were trying to do here and once again it could have worked.

‘Revenge is bad’. It’s been in many games and this message has worked beautifully in most too, like in Red Dead Redemption 2 for example. It worked beautifully in the game because it’s something that Arthur makes reference to a lot, reiterating the fact that ‘revenge is a fool’s game’. We see that pan out when John gets revenge at the end of the game and pays the price for it. The reason it fails in The Last of Us 2 is that this message comes from nowhere. Ellie has killed hundreds of people leading up to her final fight with Abby and she’s lost even more in the process too, including friends, her family and now her ability to play the guitar which was the final big thing linking her back to Joel. She’s brutally murdered many, torturing others so badly that she turned into a shell of herself afterwards. She suffers from PTSD because of Abby’s actions, seeing the death of Joel repeatedly, leaving her physically and emotionally weak. It doesn’t make any sense that after all this traumatising violence and pain, she suddenly gives up on the notion of revenge when she’s just about to kill the murderer of her father. The most disappointing thing is this message could have still worked if done correctly. If she could have realised revenge is pointless sooner, this wouldn’t feel as out of place as it does. Why does this one person, the murderer out of all people, change Ellie’s mind, after killing so many? Sure, you could say she has a family now and she was reminded of them, but then why would they have such an impact at the point of Abby’s near death, when Dina begging Ellie to stay didn’t work in the first place? It’s. Bad. Writing.

Abby and Ellie have both hurt each other equally, killing family, close friends and their fathers. Instead of killing each other, the story could have led them to realise together that Ellie is still the key to saving humanity, and with Abby’s link to the fireflies, they could somehow still create a cure.

Imagine. That. How fulfilling that would have been? Instead of the horrid, pointless ending we got instead.

Joel’s death could have brought the two together, connecting the Fireflies once again with the cure to right the wrongs he did. He could have realised that Abby was looking for him and willingly sacrifice himself to make up for what he did, completing his arc like I mentioned while also dying a fitting, badass death. He could have left a note for Ellie to read, explaining his actions, to say sorry and to show that he knows this is the only way to fix what he did. At the end of the game, Ellie could have looked out on a recovering world, singing her own rendition of Joel’s song, this time full of new beginnings in the face of great sacrifice.

That’s how you finish a story and a character’s arc. I’m no world-class writer, but I could imagine many different ways this same story and message could have panned out but with better writing, pacing and time, telling a tale of angst and sadness, while opening up a new chapter of hope and healing. The real end of the game leaves you feeling hollow and depressed, unfulfilled in the journey you’ve just experienced. Games are at their basic principle means of enjoyment, we play them to escape our lives and to have fun. They can be dark, harrowing and painful but still an absolute pleasure to play. What doesn’t help in defence of the game’s story is that the game director Neil Druckman said himself ‘For us, with The Last of Us specifically (Uncharted is a little different in our creative approaches), we don’t use the word ‘fun’. That feels… wrong to hear. If video games are not enjoyable, then what is the point in playing them?

I think it really says something in particular when the most enjoyable part of the game is a flashback between Joel and Ellie where there’s no real action. It’s just them, exploring a museum for her birthday, talking and joking and it’s the best part of the game hands down. It doesn’t include any of the new brilliant gameplay and while stunning, doesn’t really have much visual impact either. What makes it so special is just seeing the characters we love interact and have fun like it’s a scene cut straight from the first game. After 7 years, us fans were yearning to see more of Joel and Ellie’s cute relationship, so to only have that and a few other small scenes is so… unsatisfying. If we had more of their adventures before Joel’s death, I know that many people would have been much more accepting of it. It would have definitely been more impactful, having given us the chance to reconnect with them both again. Going back to Ellie on her revenge path after that museum scene was so depressing. It’s such a shame that further interaction between them was just forgotten about and thrown aside. They were such a big factor in the first game’s success, so to see them barely together felt too strange. Though we play as Ellie for the most part, it began to feel less and less like Last of Us and more like some new zombie game. Playing as Abby so suddenly too and for so long just further implemented that weird feeling. It’s a real shame because I really can’t stand her at all now. But she could have been a great character if the story was much different.

I can’t help but feel that the story feels patronising and degrading to its audience in some ways. Some of the choices and plot lines feel very disrespectful to the characters and fans, simply because of what it expects of you after forcing you through unwanted pain and misery. Let’s not forget also that we were lied to in the trailers. Showing numerous clips of Joel as his oldest self to reel us in, then change them to be flashbacks? Flashbacks which happen to be the only good pieces of storytelling in the whole game. It’s just wrong. And quite frankly it’s disgusting. Video games are expensive nowadays. We already knew many fans were gonna buy it anyway because we’re loyal to what we love. But to intentionally make that push, using lies, to secure sales for an expensive game from a huge fan base… it’s disrespectful.

As a whole, I can see what Naughty Dog were trying to do. They were trying to create something different, do what they wanted instead of what the fans wanted. That’s not a bad thing at all, it’s ballsy and creative to do something like that with a well-loved franchise. Rockstar took that same leap when they created Red Dead Redemption 2, forcing you to play as Arthur instead of the beloved John. It worked for them because they wrote the story well enough so that you’d have time to explore this new character and grow to love him, especially when faced with his actions and his mortality. Arthur dies brutality but fans still love the game because it was a fitting and wonderful way to finish his character arc.

This idea fails with The Last of Us 2 because the player isn’t properly engaged with the story before shit hits the fan and their favourite character is dead. I have no doubt that if it was written differently, if we’d been able to see more of Joel before his death and had more than two hours played with Abby that this story could have actually worked. The message that ‘revenge is bad’ could have worked. Ellie and Abby both have the same arc, experiencing something traumatic, being consumed by revenge, then ultimately realising it’s worthless to kill. We could have followed the same arc with a much better version of the story we actually got.

Instead, it feels like the game is intentionally pissing us off, continuously ruining that idea, first by making us watch as Joel is brutally and stupidly killed so soon, then secondly, by then forcing us to play and connect with Abby for 50% of the game when that seed of hate for her has already been planted. This is another one of the moments in the game where I feel like we’re being patronised. Is it really fair to paint us in such a bad light for not wanting to play and grow to like Abby, when we saw her as a stranger brutally kill our favourite character? Is it really that bad for us to hate her after she has caused so much pain when we’ve only known her for two hours? It’s such a shame because she could have actually become a new well-loved character.

I’d just like to say that while I think the story is bad, no one who was involved in the making of this game should be attacked for it. Video games, especially in this age, are such hard things to make because so much goes into them and I don’t want to discredit anyone’s work. Regardless of my or anyone else’s opinions on the game or its story, the team at Naughty Dog have still poured hours of time and effort into making it. They shouldn’t be receiving attacks or hate, we can still discuss the game and our opinions while being respectful. The actors shouldn’t be receiving hate either, they acted brilliantly with what they were given. Ashley Johnson and Laura Bailey especially should be credited for their work. And Troy Baker, though he was only in it for a short while, deserves an award just for that final ending scene between Ellie and Joel- it made me cry buckets. He made this character come alive beautifully and he deserves all the praise for it. And so do the rest of the cast, who did exceptionally good jobs.

In my eyes (though it sounds bad) The Last of Us 2 doesn’t exist as a game. In my own perfect world, it’s actually just badly written fanfiction posted to Tumblr or Wattpad. As goes in my made up ending, Joel and Ellie move to Jackson and restart their lives after the end of the first game. Eventually, he tells her about what happened and there’s a rift between them for some time, which is, of course, to be expected- it was a momentously selfish thing for him to do. Over time though, Ellie learns to forgive him and the rest is history. Because there’s no real canon ending, anything can happen. So… Did they eventually create a cure? Who knows. Did they stay in Jackson, happily living out their lives? Maybe. Did Joel die a badass and sacrificial death protecting Ellie? Possibly. Or did Joel die eventually in old age, surrounded by his family, holding his daughter’s hand as he passed away?

I hope so…

He may have been a complicated anti-hero. He may have even been a villain. Regardless, he still deserved a respectful death and in my perfect makebelieve ending…

He got it.

🌟🌟/5

Photo Credit ~ some from @ inora_miller on Instagram

[girlobsessed21]

My thoughts on The 100 7x05

Hey, guys,

Sorry for not doing any comments on the last two episodes. I’ve been a little busy and I struggled to connect to the show, so it hindered my enjoyment, but it’s all better now. Liked episode 4 and 5 was even better, jampacked with info and it answered a lot of questions.

Welcome to Bardo

Badass Octavia is da bomb (people don’t say that anymore, right?). When she was captured in episode two, I thought she had lost her fighting spirit, but it’s back, bitches. Well, until she runs into an invisible wall trying to escape. She’s captured and transported to M-cap (whatever that means). Then we get a welcome little flashback to Lincoln but it’s obvious that Bellamy would be the hand reaching out. He’s her rock, like she’s expressed many times.

Unlike John Murphy who is not quite a friend, or family and definitely not a lover. Introducing so many new characters in the final season of a show is never a good idea, because this is the time to wrap up all the stories of the existing ones, but come on, who cannot love Levitt. Even when he first meets Octavia, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Jason, you better not harm one hair on this precious little puppy’s head!

As he binges The 100 through Octavia’s eyes, he starts rooting for her, and he actually gives a damn, unlike most people on this show. He understands her strengths and weaknesses and he makes her see it too. “You’re a warrior to be sure, but your heart is pure.” Wow, what an honest and beautiful line. (Scroll down for my shipping comments.)

So is O and Hope’s fleeting little reunion. It’s amazing to experience this deep loving side of Octavia after her darkness. She’s truly one of the most diverse and developed characters on the series. Now Hope and her resilience is quickly making it to the top as well.

While Hope is trying to send her back home, we learn that memory loss is due to the time dilation. One quick note on this, it’s not linear, there’s no easy equation to calculate it unless you’re Stephen Hawking or Einstein. I don’t think it’s constant either. 10 years on Skyring = 11 days on Bardo = a few minutes on Sanctum. In the current time, 5 years on Skyring = 1 day on Sanctum = 7 days on Bardo. So, it’s clear that the planets are moving, and other factors are playing into the phenomenon. It’s more important to understand the time relative to each planet.

Levitt was the one who tattooed Hope’s code onto O’s back, also the one who planted the note into Hope’s arm. Indeed the kind of man you want on the inside, he even accepts a blow to the face as thank you.

Sheep-ish?

Thirty minutes on the clock and the trio gets led to a congregation to praise the shepherd. I never thought it was Anders, I do, however think it might be Cadogan. The Bordoan’s built the underground forest because they destroyed their planet. Ugh, what’s new? The shepherd herded his sheep from earth to Bardo via the stone. Cadogan and his second dawn cult?

Back to Clarke. So, after last episode I thought ‘the key to winning the last war’ line was an artifice for luring Clarke to disciples, but now it’s clearly true. They’ve located the key and they will win the last war. Levitt was interested in Clarke surviving the City of Light with the flame in her head, they probably assume she still has it. Cadogan burned Becca alive. Could it be because of the flame? Is this all because of that damn little chip that can’t seem to die?

Bellamy is not dead, I repeat, Bellamy is not dead! I believe that memory could be staged or implanted for a reason. Also, there’s no body, he jumped through the bridge. In the promo photos, he wears a ring but his actions towards Octavia seem a little cold and generic. On first watch, I thought it was bad acting but if he was programmed to do this, it makes sense.

Note the sequence of events. Octavia returned 7 days ago and was asked to talk her brother down, but we don’t see the actual scene. Instead we’re shown a memory. They could have implanted it to make her vulnerable and perhaps more susceptible to the procedure. I don’t know, but this theory could lead to Robot-sheep!Bellamy on Nakara, where he’ll encounter Clarke and the gang.

I have to be honest, I really don’t like this character arc for Bellamy. It’s unoriginal and a mime of Peeta’s storyline in Mockingjay. Sorry, but so far it feels like the writers were so over the show, they just wanted to get it done. And that attitude really bleeds into one’s creative concepts. I could be completely wrong, in fact, I hope I am.

Echo spins a Finn

My word, I lost the love of my life once, but I sure didn’t kill anyone. When Echo received that vision of Roan, I was hoping for some progression on her individual arc, they’ve made me care about her, and now we get the opposite. Why? One thing I have to admit, a killer performance from Tasya Teles! No pun intended.

Look, this show hasn’t explored Bellamy and Echo’s relationship enough to make her murder believable. It was the exact same thing with Finn. I wasn’t invested in Finn and Clarke’s connection, so his actions of killing a grounder tribe was more repulsive than understandable. Sure, Echo loves Bellamy and her sole purpose is to save him, but I’ve never truly witnessed their love for each other. They had one or two intimate scenes which cannot compel a deed like this. And in the process, she screwed Hope and Diyoza.

Anyway, I don’t think there’s any coming back from it. She murdered an innocent person in cold blood. That’s sure to open a door to the dark side.  Just look at Octavia after killing Pike and her actions were justified by jus drein jus daun.

Say Sanctum three times slowly and it sounds like… Sanctum

Blind faith

Look, I’m just gonna come out and say this song is getting old. Every episode featuring Sanctum is the exact same thing with different lines. Can we please move on from it, already? Yes, we know the COG want Russel dead, and the adjusters will go to extreme lengths to free Russel and the prisoners are background noise.

I did appreciate Nelson stepping in to try and save the girl, though. Still doesn’t save the fact that it’s repetitive. The Sanctum plotline is really struggling to take shape and I hope it happens soon. Dramatic eyeroll.

At least in the drought of a desert, you can always count on Murphy. “…I say we live and let die.” Typical cockroach line, right, but it’s ironic when he’s the one to step up, even if it is for Emori. Under the magnifying glass it’s the exact same plot as episode 1 and 3. He hesitates to take action, and eventually becomes the hero.

I mean, he saved that poor kid from being burned alive. Can you imagine sacrificing your own child in such a horrific away? Cults are beyond whacked, and, unfortunately, it’s reality that cult members are so blinded by their faith that they do not see rhyme or reason.

How did Murphy fail that test? I didn’t. When Trey named the four pillars, I thought, isn’t rejoice one of them? Surely, a cockroach would have smelled that trap a mile away.

Indra the great

Can we just give a massive round of applause to Adina Porter!!! That powerhouse walk vibrates strength and majesty, damn, she should be a false god, I wouldn’t dare threaten her with or without an army.

Three little words was all it took for her to recognize evil. “There’s a spider on your shoulder.” Smooth. Too bad she can’t kill him. Why not, how many of the faithful are left to cause an uproar? Wonkru doesn’t know it’s Sheidheda, they won’t care, the COG will fall in line and the prisoners will be happy as long as they get their compound. Sorry, I don’t get it and I don’t understand why she doesn’t tell anyone.  Someone please explain?

Granted, JR Bourne as Russel is way better, but I still don’t understand his actions. I hope they explore and explain him more, because he still feels flat unless he knows something of this final war. I’m hoping these two storylines align soon since it’s really driving a wedge between me and my love for the show.

Shipwreck

I’ll start with the easy stuff, Murphy, Emori and the perfect dress gets a heart eye emoji from me. They are so damn cute this season, can they please live happily ever after in the palace?

Octabriel vs Levittavia

Now, I enjoy Levitt fangirling over Octavia. I feel like he has a deep sense of her through her memories. If I have to root for an underdeveloped relationship, it will have to be one where the characters share thoughts and experiences even if it is through a sick, sci-fi procedure.

On the other hand, Gabriel and Octavia have immense chemistry, two seconds of them together bends my mouth into an “Aah, cute” pout. This will also add some approval and representation for mixed racial relationships.

I really don’t mind either way as long as they make me care through showing and not telling.

Bellarke

So, if my theory is correct, and Bellamy does end up on Nakara, Bellarke will encounter each other quite soon. Bellamy won’t be himself though, but he might pretend to be Bellamy to win Clarke’s co-operation. Is there hope for Bellarke yet?

Echo is now trotting a dangerous path and Bellamy might be pledged to a cause, so I doubt there will be a happy ending for Becho. Since 7x01 I’ve been thinking that the writers might want to develop something between Clarke and Gaia but if they are separated, is there enough time? Guess we’ll see.

This monster of a review is finally done… If you read through everything, you deserve a gold star! Let me know what you think, till we meet again…

[hcpefulmarshmallow]

NSFW Alphabet.

-I started writing this up forever ago because I saw it around, figured I might as well, and then forgot. Pretty sure the original list was made by @/fairy-tail-babes, but do correct me if I’m wrong. Happy Sinday, feel free to steal.

A = Aftercare      ---Afterward, Nagito tends to be quite affectionate, if a little lethargic. He'll compliment his partner a lot, and whisper sweet and loving things in a low, soft voice. At times he comes across as a little clingy, even scared that the intimacy will end there and his partner is going to up and leave. But with plenty of cuddling, some softspoken words, and a nap, his partner is going to have one happy marshmallow on their hands. 

B = Body part     ---He doesn’t really have a favorite part of his own body. Nagito has never thought of himself as especially handsome, or especially hideous. In fact, he’s never thought about his appearance much at all. That said, if he S/O shows a preference for something (usually his hair or his eyes, let’s be real), then he will take better care of that part of him. As for his partner, he often has a strong appreciation for their hands, chest, and neck. He’ll find their hands fascinating because of the wonderful duality about them. Kissing their fingertips can be either the most chaste, adoring act in the world, or the most suggestive, with only the smallest change in technique. He loves that he can hold their hand in public around other people, but also during their most private, intimate moments. He can spend hours just watching his fingers entwine with theirs. As for the chest thing, aside from the obvious, one of his favourite places to kiss his S/O is just above their heart, and likewise, he will probably melt if they did the same to him. He considers his lover’s very life to be an absolute miracle, and the pinnacle of hope, so something symbolic of that - like their heartbeat - is comforting to him, and he adores falling asleep to the sound of it. And finally, aside from finding the curve of their neck very alluring, he likes kissing them there, and also just nuzzling while he holds onto them. It’s a very secure, comfortable place to be. He can hear them breathing, breathe in their scent, and block out the world for a little while. 

C = Cum     ---Nagito has something of a double standard in this regard. He finds his own viscerally disgusting (along with pretty much everything else about himself), but he’s very comfortable with his partner’s. He will probably go into shock the first time they swallow. He won’t hate it though.

D = Dirty Secret      ---The fact that he has a dirty side probably is his secret. He tends to assume that people will assume the worst of him, so if anyone knows he had a horny thought in his life, they’d probably think he’s a pervert, on top of being useless and stupid. Thus, such thoughts tend to come with a lot of shame and frustration for him, as does every desire for anything gratifying that he feels. 

E = Experience      ---No. Generally, he prefers only to participate in sex with someone he deeply cares for -- a preference he’d rarely ever stray outside of, and only under certain, strenuous circumstances. Between Nagito’s own selectiveness, and tendency to drive people away (either consciously or subconsciously), he doesn’t have many willing suitors. Rest assured, though, he’s very perceptive and a fast learner. It doesn’t take long to figure out what he’s doing. 

F = Favourite Position      ---Any position that allows for eye contact and plenty of touching. Bonus points if they’re close enough to kiss. He likes to look at his partner while they do the fucc, and marvel at everything about them. 

G = Goofy     ---At first, a little bit. He’ll laugh a lot as he does when he’s nervous, and may act uncharacteristically clumsy. Once he’s comfortable, it’s more a matter of what kind of what they’re about to do. Though, he’s never too serious to smile for the person he loves. 

H = Hair      ---The people want to know, and thus, they shall: yes. His hair is the same colour all over. Do with that what you will. 

I = Intimacy      ---Nagito is the type to go the extra mile to make every time special. It can honestly be a little exhausting, especially if he and his S/O already live busy lives. He spends a lot of time on foreplay, and will pour his whole entire soul into making his partner feel loved and special. Every. Single. Time. So yeah, as with all other aspects of his personality, he can be tiring and painstaking at times; but he’s always worth the extra effort. Every time with him is a whole experience.

J = Jack Off      ---Typically, something he does to blow off steam every now and again, with nothing in particular on his mind. When he starts to crush hard on someone, he’s surprised to find himself thinking of them more and more, even during his...private moments. The first time that happens, he’s surprised at how much more intense it makes everything feel, and he has to stop and take a cold shower. In part, because he wasn’t prepared for it; and in part, out of shame alone. Eventually he can’t stop himself and does finish and it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever given himself -- only to wind up not even looking that person in the eye for a good week. His fantasies while masturbating tend to be rather benign, too. It’s more abstract sensations - like the way a person smells, or the sound of their voice - than anything literal. 

K = Kink     ---You know, the whole #letnagitogetpegged2kforever thing started as a meme on this blog. It was initially “hey someone be nice to him uwu” and gradually evolved into, “for the love of god rail him please i swear”. In case it isn’t clear, I tend to use these kind of things as shorthand for my many, many rants on how Nagito is a Good Boy and Deserves Love, like the filthy apologist I am. It goes hand-in-hand with the running joke that his kink is love and affection -- though let’s be real, nothing makes him drop his pants faster than being made to feel loved, adored, and safe. Nothing.     That said, he will jump at the chance to be f’d in the a’, all the while insisting, “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”. Plenty of kisses and kind words, and some light hair pulling, and he will fall to pieces. He also really, really likes going down on his partner. If his S/O is smaller than him, seeing them in his clothing and nothing else does Things he can’t quite explain. If his S/O is stronger than him, he finds he enjoys being manhandled a little or pinned, so long as they’re at a point where he’s totally comfortable with them. He enjoys teasing and being teased, and hearing whatever noises he can elicit from his partner. Praise works so many kinds of wonders. The first person to tell him he’s not actual human garbage for whom death is too good will own his soul, I swear.

L = Location      ---Bed. Yeah, I know. But it’s familiar, comfortable, and well-equipped that he can take his time and give his partner his all. 

M = Motivation      ---It’s really not difficult to get him going. If his S/O makes their intentions clear, all it takes is a few indecent words and well-placed touches, and his interest is piqued. He is very touch-starved, what do you want?

N = NO     ---As a general rule, Nagito doesn’t like things that remind him of unpleasant times in his life. Nor would he want anything to depersonalize the experience, undermine his sense of safety, or is likely to go wrong due to his luck. No pain, and as much as he might pretend otherwise, no degrading. If he actively asks to be degraded, it’s a sign that he’s too involved in his self-loathing to be enjoying himself, and it’s probably time to take a break. Nothing unsanitary. Nothing that keeps him from being able to communicate, even if he’s not very good at it. He wants very badly to enjoy being tied up, because the idea of handing over that kind of ultimate trust to his partner is thrilling. However, that’s the kind of thing that needs a lot of working up to. He’s been tied up before in his life. Didn’t go well for him.      As an aside, Nagito is, as we all know, very bad at communicating his limits, especially if he feels they aren’t shared. It will likely take some intuiting on the part of his S/O to help suss him out a little. He is how he is. But he’s trying. 

O = Oral      ---He doesn’t mind receiving, of course, but definitely prefers giving. He’s pretty good at it, too. Sometimes he’ll exhaust his S/O that way, and be quite content even if that’s all they do. 

P = Pace      ---Left to set the pace himself, Nagito tends to take things slow. Agonizingly so. He likes to make it last. Like I said: every encounter is an Experience. 

Q = Quickie      ---Quickies don’t work for him as a replacement for sex for all the reasons above - it’s just not enough time to do all the things he wants to do - but for leaving him breathless and wanting more, as a precursor to later on, they’re pretty effective. 

R = Risk      ---The word “risk” is a strange one for Nagito. Due to his luck, he can get away with a lot more than most people. This has probably lead to a share of escapades with the right adventurous-type S/Os. 

S = Stamina      ---You know, regrettably, it’s not the best, once the actual fuccing begins. He’s pretty easily overwhelmed. But what he lacks in stamina, he makes up for in every other way. He would never want to leave his partner disappointed. 

T = Toy      ---Nagito is not opposed to the use of toys, either giving or receiving. Generally speaking, he’s pretty open-minded about trying new things, and if they work out, he’s happy to incorporate them into their regular routine. 

U = Unfair      ---Yet another long-running joke on his blog is that Nagito doesn’t deserve rights because he is a bottom. And you know what? That’s fair. Most of the time, he will default to - and be comfortable in - a more submissive role. But that isn’t to say he won’t be just as gifted at, and have just as much fun, taking control of things every now and again. And for someone so polite and composed and otherwise relaxed, it’s almost disorienting how easily that switch is flipped. Nagito has a silver tongue and a strong knack for finding peoples’ weak spots. He can tease his partner for hours, and if that wry smile is anything to go by, he really, really enjoys it. What I’m saying is, Top!Nagito is very powerful and should be feared.

V = Volume      ---So, you know how it’s physically impossible for him to shut up at any given moment? Yeah. Outside of his usual rambling about how his partner is a perfect, wonderful person who he loves with all his heart, interwoven with other filth not at all for polite company, he moans and whines a lot. Especially as he becomes more and more worked up, and less and less coherent. Sometimes he will try to muffle himself with his hand or a pillow (particularly early on while he’s still self-conscious); most of the time, he won’t bother. At a certain point it may be nearly impossible for him to control the sounds he’s making, so if some quiet is needed, it may be up to his partner to find a way to keep his mouth occupied. 

W = Wild Card      ---Nagito has an intense fascination with intricate lingerie. You know, the type that has a million straps and pieces and whatnot. Not just for all the obvious reasons -- he really does enjoy trying to figure out how all this complicated clothing works, and can spend ages just tracing it all with his fingers in amazement. RIP to the S/O who was trying to rile him up to make things move faster. What can he say? It’s the puzzle-solver in him. 

X = X-Ray      ---Slightly above average. He’s not overwhelming, but nowhere near disappointing, either. Once time, an anon submitted a logical deduction that explains this in full. I fucking love this community. 

Y = Yearning      ---His sex drive isn’t too high, but it’s high-er when he’s alone with his S/O more. In case it isn’t crystal yet, sex is primarily something he uses to express the way he feels about someone, and seek the contact he’s so desperate for. The deeper he’s fallen for someone, the stronger his desires will be -- or at the very least, the more likely he is to honour them, rather than bury his need for love and pretend it doesn’t exist.  

Z = ZZZ      ---He tries. He really does. But after a long session, he’s probably too tired to stay awake for very long. It seems only appropriate to end this list as it began: with plenty of cuddling, some softspoken words, and a nap, his partner is going to have one happy marshmallow on their hands.

[darkestwolfx]

Impact - Re-Review #35

“This is going to be a close one.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Hello everyone! So I’d just like to say a massive massive thank you for all the recent comments and reblogs on the Re-Review Series. Being busy with work this week I haven’t had the time I like to reply to everyone, but be aware that I have read every single response and if I haven’t replied to you, it’s not meant unkindly! I’m incredibly grateful for all your support with these, and glad to know you’re enjoying them - it motivates me to continue writing them.

Now, before we dive in with today’s installment - I can’t believe we’re on number 35 already! - I’d like to give a little note on Fanfiction works (which I know have been lacking from me lately!).

So tomorrow there will definitely be one piece to upload, I’m hoping it could extend to three, maybe four, but I’m working on the numbers I can guarantee I can deliver - which is an irrelief2020 prompt that I have loved from the moment I saw it and been desperate to write - so I’m hoping it will be well received! Hopefully I can bring you more works too, but if not, bear with me (like you all are, and I massively appreciate it)! If I can take any good screenshots from my chat with Australia (and the Red Pandas) [which by the time this goes up will only be hours away and I will have been awake from about 3AM UK time) I will throw them up for you all to see as a reward.

Anyhow, back to the Re-Review Series;

It’s EOS! It’s actually EOS, and she’s in the opening shot and we get to see her travelling around Thunderbird Five! I love it so so much. Look at those little red dots of... is that jealousy there, EOS?

“Lucky shot!”

“That wasn’t luck; that was skill.”

“Yes, I’ve studied it in college. It’s supposed to miss Earth by millions of miles.”

“However, it has apparently changed trajectory. And the probably of a collision with Earth is now one hundred percent.”

“What could possibly knock a comment that far off course?”

You’re about to be very sorry that you asked that, I’m afraid, John.

“We have a situation.”

“Uh... you always say that.”

Scott swiping Alan’s feet out of the way is absolutely perfect brotherly interaction once again.

“Something The Mechanic could have done?”

“Good guess, but no.”

“Langstrum FIschler.”

Uh oh... Scott is mad. Scott is very mad. The face said it all.

“Nobody said gear up’s were fair, Virgil.”

So, Alan is on form (as usual) in this episode, and we get to see Virgil’s first trip in Thunderbird Three! This makes sense as we were shown Virgil piloting Three  up to Five in TOS ‘Ricochet’.

“Any luck tracking down Fischler?”

“Not yet. That guy changes addresses more than I change socks.”

Um... I don’t know which part of that sentence to be more worried about...

“Hello, this is Langstrum Fischler, inventor and visionary!”

“And this is International Rescue.”

“Ah... Yes... so it is.”

You know what, I’ve been awake for too long now and am a little too tired to sit here and write the essay I would love to write on Fischler and his idiocy and made up names and processes. But I will have to write that another time when I am more able to write something which isn’t a load of prattle. So for now, let me just express my heartfelt feelings that said man is a liability. The epitome of liability even.

“John’s right. We do have a situation.”

As I have said before Alan; we wouldn’t have a show if you didn’t.

“What are our options?”

“We could try to steer the comet away from Earth.”

“Because we’ve seen how well that’s worked for Fischler.”

“Ah, yes, point taken.”

New catch phrase, maybe? FAB and RAD are totally outdated.

“I say we blast it to bits!”

Of course you do, Virgil, seems to be an area of expertise of yours, after all: demolition.

“I’ve loaded up enough demolition charges to do the job.”

“Wait, you put explosives on my ship?”

This is another of those traditional Alan lines that only Alan can ever really get away with saying.

“Alan, you fly a rocket. It’s already an explosive.”

“Point taken.”

I still adore this scene.

“This is Thunderbird Three. That was a rough ride.”

“But thanks to Alan, we’re ok.”

“Which is more than Fischler’s gonna’ be when I’m done with him.”

Yeah... it’s probably a good thing that Scott can only reach Fischler by holographics... the man would have a broken nose else.

“Better you two stay on task and blow up the comet.”

Not everyday we hear that from International Rescue!

“And Fischler’s rocket.”

“Especially Fischler’s rocket!”

Yes, we get it Scott. We get it.

“Meanwhile, I’ll break the news to Global One.”

Which of course happens to be where Ridley is based.

“Ridley, you may want to sit down.”

“Not so easy in zero gravity.”

Does she not know by now that John really struggles with humour and works in a high pressure environment where if he’s calling you, it’s probably because you’re in life-threatening danger.

“Ok, you have my attention.”

“Good, because all of you on Global One are in serious danger.”

“Only the last shuttle was short one seat.”

So, I highly doubt any space based organisation would miss-run a potentially life threatening calculation like that for one.

“Besides I thought you could use a hand with the towing operation.”

“What towing operation?”

“John, I’ve did the calculations. My maneuvering jets aren’t powerful enough to push Global One out of the way in time. So I’m counting on you to save the space station.” 

Secondly, that was the whole point of why John told you to leave Global One - there was no plan to rescue something which could be rebuilt. (Yes, I am aware here that the boys often try to rescue their own ships, but emotional attachment is the reason for those calls - I’m well aware Ridley’s call could be put down to the same reasons, but it’s a call that annoys me. One I don’t think a Captain should have made).

“Ridley, I’m not a tow boat Captain. I rescue people.”

“Ok, I’m people. Rescue me.”

So, thirdly, (and I’m aware I’m about to say some things that might not be well received, but), who does she think she is? I thought the character of Ridley was going to be a good addition to the show, but in this episode, I kinda changed my mind on that a bit. John is the sort of person who - whilst capable of remaining incredibly calm under pressure - does have a massive heart. I mean, look how he took in EOS after she nearly killed him (and potentially Scott, Brains and Alan) and gave her a second chance. Ridley knows he would rescue anyone because that is his job. Emotional blackmail doesn’t sit well with me - and whilst many might not see her actions in that way - that’s how they always come across to me. This entire conversation makes out very clearly that she stayed because she wanted IR to save Global One, but knew there was no chance of that occurring if it was just the ship in the comet’s way. So she stays, and then trips every switch that John has - because he (like most of the Tracy family in the odd world of 2060) has a conscience - and makes herself need rescuing when it could have been avoided. Maybe I see it more this way because I’ve always had a soft spot for John - up in space, all on his own - but even if this isn’t blackmail, it’s manipulative. And even if it wasn’t intended that way, it definitely works that way. With Alan and Virgil on the comet, the only other option is for John to act and - like Scott says - put himself in danger, all for one person who didn’t listen to him in the first place, someone who you would have expected should have enough knowledge (and apparent care) to listen to him. It just annoys me that she acted that way.

Right, potential discussion-opening opinion out there, but I felt it needed saying (although hopefully I’ve written that argument well and not done any tired prattle). Now to move on.

“John, what are you doing?”

“Trying to save Captain O’Bannon’s life.”

“Oh. Well then, carry on, Using Thunderbird Five?

“That’s the general idea.”

“John, come on! If things don’t go your way, we could lose Global One, Thunderbird Five and you!”

“Love to hear about a better plan.”

Unfortunately I have to now return to my above essay. You see my point?

“There may not be time to pull Global One clear of the comet. I’ll rescue you first, then we can try.”

“No! It’s like we discussed. Save me, save my station. Package deal.”

“Ridley, be reasonable.”

Yes, be reasonable, and don’t put people (i.e. John) needlessly in danger.

“John, this is my command and I am not about to abandon it. Would you give up Thunderbird Five if the boot was on the other foot?”

Already discussed this as well, so won’t repeat myself too much, but really, manipulative is the only word which struck me for all of this. There was (other than for the sake of expanding the episode) no reason for Ridley to put John in this position.

“Score one to you, Captain.”

See? Forgiving John (or maybe blind John) all over again. And wait for it;

“Just like climbing  set of monkey bars.”

“If the monkey bars are twenty-two thousand miles high.”

“John.. don’t help.”

Okay, really now, make your mind up because you cannot have everything, and I definitely believe that you cannot treat someone who is risking their life for you (job or not) - and who you might have considered a friend - like that. Seriously, she irks me in this episode, a lot (if you hadn’t already guessed). But yeah, I’ve seen the real life effects of emotional manipulation like that, and I personally believe Ridley was really out of order, and even after she became trapped, and John risked coming out to rescue her there still wasn’t any apology.

I’m with EOS on this one, not jealous maybe, but angry. She stands to lose a lot as well if she loses John and/or Thunderbird Five, remember.

“Did I see Thunderbird Three sticking out of that comet?”

Yes, yes you did.

“This is us leaving... Except the grappling arms won’t retract!”

“What?”

“I’m not thrilled about it myself!”

I told you Alan was on form, did I not? He did really well to get them out of that situation then. He really is a skilled pilot.

“They did it!”

“I never doubted them for a moment.”

Of course not, Brains. We’ll just never speak of it, shall we?

So, apart from the fact this episode was in space (key point that one) and was called ‘Impact’, it still shared many similar elements with the earth-based TOS episode ‘Edge of Impact’, alongside the soon to come ‘Weather or Not’ TAG episode. Combined, ‘Impact’ and ‘Weather or Not’ sum up many elements featured in ‘Edge of Impact’ quite well - the high tower, the endangered lives, the near-misses, the potential loss of life, entrapment, the technological failure... anything I’ve missed?

Oh, and I really love the above poster.

[remnantsrp]

Name: Fletcher Bennett Age: 27 years old Pronouns: He/Him Hometown: Henderson, Nevada Occupation before the Infection: Bartender/Ex-Paramedic Role within the Caravan: Medical Team FC: Logan Lerman

Biography:

tw. mentions of alcoholism, teen pregnancy, mentions of suicide

Before the Infection.

Fletcher started life in a struggle - with his umbilical cord wrapped tightly around his neck and no heartbeat detected. With precision and haste, the medical staff were able to resuscitate and save the couple’s fourth born son before it was too late. Of course, Fletch has no recollection of nearly dying the day he was born. His earliest memories include sprawling fields, rolling around in the grass, playing tag with his older brothers and sister, their border collie Charlie barking as he chased his little human through the fields of green. One of his saddest memories was burying Charlie under the shade of the weeping willow in the backyard.

Fletcher grew up in Silverthorne, Colorado, but only because he didn’t have a choice in the matter. His father was a cattle and free-range chicken farmer. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it paid the bills. Of course, he wanted his sons to follow his footsteps, and that is the only reason Fletcher has any sort of idea how to ride a horse (somewhat), handle cattle (poorly), and shoot a gun (he only managed to handle a handful of coyotes this way, the rest he missed). It was about at twelve years old, Fletcher learned something about himself.

He didn’t really belong anywhere.

Not that Fletcher is property, and he was never treated as such. But he had no idea what he was doing, or if there was potential beyond the field of his parents’ farm in Silverthorne. He knew he didn’t belong there. At the best he’s just an extra hand to help on the farmland. It’s all he’s ever known.

At fourteen, Fletcher walks off the farm. Partially because as he’d know his entire life, his dad became more of a drunk who got nasty, and Fletcher really doesn’t have the patience for animal agriculture anymore. So, in an almost childish fit that he packs his duffel bag and just begins to walk off without looking back. Once he reached the bus station, Fletch’ hopped on a bus to head about 70 miles East to Denver. This just about destroyed his relationship with his father, who angrily told him that their house didn’t have a revolving door.

Jumping ship to head to the city life wasn’t a poorly planned escape. Fletcher did have a cousin six years older than him looking for a roommate to cover the rent in their apartment. It was the opportune moment for him to get out of the rural life and immerse himself in a busier, more exciting routine. Denver wasn’t New York City, but going from a town with a population of barely 4,500 to a city with 716,000 citizens was quite the difference. The change brought with it a feeling of refreshing hope. Just, at fourteen, Fletcher didn’t have any idea of what type of life he wanted to pursue. All he knew was home school Monday through Friday, feeding chickens and collecting eggs, bringing the cattle before sunset, and sitting on the porch and sharing a pint of whiskey with his brothers at the end of a long day.

Enrolling in public school was quite the experience, but Fletcher’s submissive behavior made it easy for him to just hide in the background to get through most days. While isolation isn’t great for anyone’s social life, it was decided that it was the best route while adapting to a faster-paced life – which he did diligently. He struggled with Cs, the occasional D, and even fewer B grades on his report card. He only ever received an A in gym class, but that never truly counted. He didn’t join after school activities and spent most of his time just reading comic books on the ground of the local bookstore.

At sixteen, Fletch’ made his first friend. The circle grew with three more people over the course of the following few months, and the summer before his junior year was less lonely than the one previously. It was then that Fletcher felt like he was fitting in. They weren’t his siblings, but somehow, he found he liked them more. They brought to him stories from around the country, for the girl who wasn’t in Denver her entire life and the boy who traveled to the Caribbean with his parents on holiday. They also brought excitement in late night adventures that involved getting drunk on the hiking trails on the city outskirts or filling up on fast food from the drive thru. Just before he turned seventeen in March of 2010, he experienced his first high school romance. It was fun and breath taking and about when Fletcher realized he’d never been happier that he walked off his parents’ farm just two years ago.

As Fletcher neared graduation, there was promise of all things good. He felt invincible, almost, until his partner presented to him a positive pregnancy test. It was a curve ball he wasn’t prepared for, and suddenly all those college applications meant nothing to him. After the initial shock, Fletcher was actually… excited. Just barely eighteen, and he was already going to start a family. It worked for his parents who had their first child around the same age, so why wouldn’t it be good news for him?

Graduation came and went, and Fletcher applied to pursue an associate degree at the community college of Denver. With mediocre grades and no attempt to apply for scholarships, it was his best bet. Things felt to be on track until he and his partner had a falling out. The reason being they admitted they weren’t ready to be a parent and admitted they scheduled for an abortion. He felt heartbroken, angry almost, and they fought due to his selfish need to tell them to cancel it. But in the end, Fletch’ knew it wasn’t his choice. The fight had lasting damage on their relationship and his high school sweetheart slipped through his fingers.

Newly single life was tough to adapt to, but it did come easy once the sting of rejection wore off. He didn’t become a playboy, per se, but he did enjoy the occasional hook-up and indulged in partying. After one year in community college, he dropped out and found himself lost on where he wanted to go with his life. With the settling thought of entering law enforcement, Fletcher began researching more in the emergency response field. Soon the idea of becoming a police officer turned into a firefighter, and then eventually he found he might be interested in becoming a paramedic. He tested this out by volunteering on the Denver Emergency Squad at nineteen while earning money as a dish washer at bar. By the following year he found inspiration to pursue becoming a paramedic. That plan was dashed when the weekend social outings became too much, and Fletcher was reported for showing up continuously to volunteer hung over and, as the document stated, ‘smelling of hard liquor’.

He didn’t have a problem with addiction, just an issue of being a little hedonistic and irresponsible. That was what he’d insist, anyway. With all the knowledge he had from his experience on the squad and the half-completed paramedic course, Fletcher moved on to use that knowledge to become…

A bartender.

It wasn’t the self-fulfilling route that would give him a purpose, but it did give him enough money to move out of his cousin’s apartment and get his own little studio. He was back at square one. Fletcher was useful, he told himself. The problem was he was only useful until someone else decided that he wasn’t and then he had to go. It annoyed him beyond limits. So, Fletcher kept searching. There was a restlessness over him, along with perhaps expectations that were too large. He couldn’t help himself with that, however.

So, he would wander, figuratively, until Fletcher could find what he was looking for. Sooner or later something had to feel right. Something had to eventually give him a purpose.

The Outbreak.

Except half a decade later, he realized he would never discover his life’s ‘meaning’. To be fair, he never was on track, but the outbreak definitely made it impossible.

Fletcher was in Las Vegas during the outbreak. He was there celebrating a bachelor party as one of the groomsmen of his best friend. What was supposed to be celebratory quickly turned into a nightmare as infection ran rampant across the nation. New stations broadcasted mind-blowing infection rates, and they only managed to make it to a motel outside of Vegas. Four out of five of them made it to bunker down there, but days became weeks. They ate through the vending machine supply of chips, and the nearby gas station’s shelves were cleared by them and other passerby alike just trying to find a bite to eat.

As their food source grew scarce, the four of them knew they needed to travel further to find supplies. The water was running, for now, but eventually they needed to eat more than energy bars. The nearest grocery store was a twenty-minute drive out. Fletcher stayed back to keep guard over their space as the other three headed out. He never expected that they’d return in a panic after they encountered the undead and one of them was bitten. As the fever overtook the one, the other two friends figured that with Fletcher’s experience as an EMT and knowledge from partially completing paramedic school gave him enough knowledge about what to do. Which… Fletcher did try. He bandaged the bite, tried his best to help, until he inevitably passed.

Panic took over that motel room as three of them began arguing. Over what, Fletcher doesn’t remember. It was during the yelling and panic that the dead friend rose, hungry and determined to feed. It, whatever it was, caught them off guard and managed to bite Fletcher’s best friend. They scrambled out of the room and locked the door behind them. When his best friend started to develop a fever, Fletcher and the last guy out of the group fled, leaving him behind to pass alone against the door of their motel room. Within a month it was down to just the two of them, and Fletcher already felt like soon it would be one.

Finding the Caravan.

Sometime in September what Fletcher feared happened. Only, he was the one alone. What was horrible about the incident was that it wasn’t even the undead that got ahold of his buddy. It was stress, exhaustion and fear that ate them alive, and it was after scouting the woods that Fletcher found the body with a splatter of coagulating blood against the wall. He would have thrown up, or at least dry-heaved considering his stomach was nearly empty, if not for the fact he’d seen a similar scene when on call many years before. Despite that, the chill and fear of loneliness set in instantly, sending a shiver up his spine. His fingers trembled while he collected the gun from their hand, and then collected their bags to leave. The gunshot would attract any zombies that could hear it, and he guessed he didn’t have much time to hang around.

The car died a couple hours on the road with the gas tank begging to be filled. Unfortunately, Fletcher didn’t have any fuel on hand, so he set out on foot. For several days, he walked at sunrise, stopped at sunset and set up camp if he didn’t find structured shelter. He lost count of the days he’d been alone before he stumbled upon the group of survivors. It was scary knowing many were ready to kill for supplies, but with barely anything on him Fletcher approached, hands up to show he was unarmed and desperation in his eyes. He needed a stroke of luck after all that happened, and as all began to feel hopeless, he was handed this chance.

Fletcher was able to offer his limited medical expertise as compensation, as well as an able body to do any physical work. Despite not being proficient in all forms of medical aid it was better than nothing. Since joining, he had kept to himself, conversing as needed and just watching. Sometimes, his mind would go back to Colorado and his parents farm when he wished for more adventure and excitement. Then sometimes, he’d find himself cynically thinking about how whatever higher being had a cruel sense of humor to have given him just that.

positive personality traits:  protective, good natured, intuitive, observant

negative personality traits: skittish, compulsive, indulgent, melancholic

played by Xan, Them/Them

[blkmxrvel]

The Persistence of Memory (NO A4 SPOILERS)

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Fem!Reader (thought this part could be read as gender neutral)

Words: 1,559

Request: carol danvers x fem!reader, readers memory of carol is distorted and she can’t remember her face. but she keeps asking for carol. begging for carol to be here that she needs her. it breaks carol’s heart.

Warnings: Descriptions of Depression and Anxiety. Cursing, Mentions of Kidnapping.

A/N: 2 out of a lot of cm requests lol. There’s gonna be a part two of this so let me know if you guys want a tag lst for cm or any of my fics! Enjoy! Also be on the look out for another marvel fic or a Lena 5v1!

Your eyes opened as you felt the ship land with a shake. There was still a little bit of blood trickling from your forehead as you yawned. You stood up (more like limped) and looked out the window at the house that stood before you. Immediately, flashes of smiles and laughs appeared in your mind and you immediately thought of one name: Carol.

One minutes your walking towards the ship door and the next you’re racing towards the house, not giving a damn about the pain in your body.

“Y/N, wait a second!” You heard Talos call after you, but you didn’t care. You needed to see the one person that has kept you alive all these years. You weren’t sure what she looked like, that was something they had taken from you, but you were sure you could recognize her energy from a mile away.

So imagine the disappointment you felt when you busted through the door, tears ready to escape from your eyes. You searched frantically around the house. “Carol!? It’s me, Y/N!” There was no sign of her; no sign of anyone.

You didn’t understand. You were more than positive that this was the house. There was the swing that you used to push Monica on; the table that still had the glue from when you accidentally broke it. Everything was the same, though it just didn’t feel quite like home. You sank to the floor much like your heart did. You figured that this would be what you needed to regain your memories back, to not feel like such a waste of space and an experiment gone wrong. The headache that began to pound at your mind (and soul) proved you wrong.

It wasn’t all bad though. A warm feeling spread through you when you heard her voice, her laugh in your head. Hey, pretty girl. She greeted. You love me anyways. She mocked. Baby please! That tickles! She begged. I’m so proud of you, my love. I knew you could do it. She praised. I love you, Y/N. Forever and always, no matter what. She promised.

The tears finally fell, rejoicing and running down your cheeks. Sobs wracked your body as you buried your face in your hands.

“Y/N?” A shy voice rang out. You snapped your head up, wiping your eyes. “Auntie Y/N? Is that really you?”

You looked at her confused. Why was she calling you Auntie? You didn’t have any siblings. “I-I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

Monica’s heart fell. She’s been through this once before, with Carol. The look on your face matched Carol’s so perfectly that it made her heart sink. Walking forward, now meeting you eye to eye, she placed a hand on your shoulder. “They got to you too?”

You flinched at the contact, a product of the numerous cold-hearted blows to your body. Her hand didn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, but you didn’t even know who she was. How could you trust her?

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” Monica just smiled at you. She removed her arm from yours and saluted to you in one swift motion.

“Lieutenant Trouble, reporting for duty, Captain.” Her smile grew wider as you gasped. With eyes wide and a hand over your mouth, you looked her up and down. More you could finally put a face to the tuft of brown curls that always bounced around in your memories.

“Monica?” The girl in question nodded her head, giving you the biggest hug she coukd manage. Your arms went to her hair, shaking but hugging her back.

“I’m so glad to see you, Auntie Y/N. I just wish they were under better circumstances.” She said as she pulled away.

“Likewise, Lieutenant.” The memories kept coming back, each every one of them you saw Monica’s face, and each and everyone of them you heard Carol’s voice.

“Monica!” Talos again. “Just the person I was looking for. I see you’ve reunited with Y/N here.”

She nodded, leading you over to the couch as your legs went soft.

“Yes, I have. I’m pretty sure I have a clear idea of what happened, so no need for a debrief.”

You tuned out the rest of their conversation after that. Your brain was too focused on the soft whispers and warm hugs you felt subconsciously. All you could hear was her voice, all you could manage to feel was the way her arms wrapped around you so perfectly, the way your head fit so good in her neck: like a puzzle piece. It frustrated you to no end, to not be able to see her face. Your blood boiled at everything Yon-Rogg and the Kree did to you. You just wanted-

“Carol?” You whipped your head between the two of them. The fragility in your voice was ever present. “Is she here?”

“You remember?” You shook your head.

“I don’t remember what she looked like. But her aura, her presence, her voice, I never forgot that.” You played with your fingers now. “When is she coming back?”

You weren’t an expert on humans, these days. But you were certain that the way Monica looked away from you and cleared her voice wasn’t good. Talos took this moment to step away.

“Y/N…She…There was-”

“Just say it!” You pleaded. The tears were already streaming down your face. Monica took a deep breath.

“Carol isn’t coming back.” Immediately, your mind went to the worst, brainwashed and twisted. The fire in your eyes grew.

“What did you do to her!? What do you mean she’s not coming back? She has to she told me she would!” Your fists began to glow, it was nothing like Carol’s though. Her were calming, controlled, collected. Your were unsettling, powerful and angry.”

Monica stood, her arms going out to protect herself. “Y/N she’s away saving the world, trying to get everybody bac-”

“Bullshit!” There goes the new vase she just bought. The tears that were coming from your face were steadily evaporating.

“Y/N please!” She tried her best to calm you down.

“Where is she!?” That was all it took. Energy exploded from your body, knocking Maria back on her ass while you sank down once again.

“Y/N….” You couldn’t hear Monica, not over your sobs and the sound of your heart breaking. You wanted Carol, needed her. She was the reason you never gave up, the reason you never forgot her. If it wasn’t for the way Carol loved you, who knows where you would be now.

If only you could see her face, maybe then you would be better.

–

The next few weeks didn’t do much for your mental or physical health. You weren’t sleeping, barely ate, and you definitely weren’t talking. You didn’t understand how you were supposed to do anything without Carol.

The only good thing that came out of this were your memories, the real ones. You weren’t quite sure what did, you were just glad that it had happened. You knew everything for the most part.

A knock came from your door, you didn’t move an inch. It wasn’t her. “Y/N…” Monica soothed as she walked over to your bed. You tuned her out.

“…..So I talked to Bruce and we think it’s best to run a few tests, just to see what you’re working with and how we can get you better.”

“I know how you can get me better, get me Carol.”

Monica sighed. “Y/N….we’ve talked about this. She can’t come back.”

“Then I guess I’m not getting better then.” You quipped.

Another sigh. “We leave tomorrow, Y/N.” You shot up at that, eyes glowing red.

“No! I’m not going anywhere! Not without Carol.”

Monica scoffed. “You don’t need Carol, Y/N. God, what is it with you? Can’t you just understand that you can’t have her. You can do shit on your own, Y/N. You don’t need to be so hung up on a memory of a person when she isn’t even thinking about you.”

You were fuming at that point. You threw your blanket to the other side on the room and it immediately disintegrated. “You know what? I can do shit on my own.” Weak and all you stood and walked towards Monica. Her eyes widened dramatically and she ducked, preparing herself for the worst and receiving the best when you walked righgt past her. Out the door is where you went, trying to make sense of your powers and fly anywhere but here. You’d go back to Hala, at least then you weren’t able to think for yourself, let alone breathe. Being tortutured was never this painful and emotional taxing.

Just as fire escaped from your hands, the air started to go crazy Your hair went every which way and you weren’t able to get your balance. You fell just as you got in the air.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” A man in a blue shirt and black pants came up to you. He was faster than you could fathom.

“What are you-” You started as he grabbed hold to your neck.

“I’m so sorry for this.” You felt a sharp pain in your arm.

Screaming at the sensation, panicking at the way your legs and arms gave out on you, you began to fall. You didn’t even know you made it to the floor before everything went black.

–

Tags?

[welcometothepenumbra]

JUNO STEEL AND THE TRAIN FROM NOWHERE (PART ONE)

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, BELL RINGS, RAIN.

MUSIC: STARTS.

CONCIERGE: Ah, good evening, Traveler! Welcome to The Penumbra.

SOUND: KEYS JINGLING.

Detective Steel’s been known to keep odd company, but even by his standards his guest this week is… unexpected. On this job he’s agreed to work with Peter Nureyev, the master thief who’s betrayed him once in the past, and about whom Detective Steel holds very, let us say, volatile feelings.

But our detective has no choice, I’m afraid. There’s an even more dangerous criminal on the prowl, a woman with her eye on a very special train, and the ancient weapon that lies within it.

SOUND: THREE KNOCKS. CARDS SHUFFLING, BELL RINGING.

What luck! It sounds like he’s in. Come, Traveler. Come with me into room J-16.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKING OPEN.

Juno Steel and the Train From Nowhere.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: WIND BLOWING.

JUNO: We don’t have time for this, Nureyev.

NUREYEV: Hm.

JUNO: You said yourself we’re under the gun. As soon as your boss finds out what we’re up to, we’re sunk.

NUREYEV: Correct.

JUNO: Mind explaining why we’ve been parked in the desert for half an hour, then?

NUREYEV: We’re early.

JUNO: Early for what?

…Ahh, I should’ve known better.

NUREYEV: Than?

JUNO: To trust you. Walking into the same trap twice.

I wouldn’t be here if I had any other options, you get me?

NUREYEV: Oh, I get you, Juno.

JUNO: That’s what scares me.

How about telling me about that thing you just put in the sand over there, then? You starting a little garden out here or something?

NUREYEV: Well, telling you that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?

JUNO: Surprise?! Oh, no. Not this time. I’ve had all the surprises I’m willing to take from you. You think you can show up in my apartment in the middle of the goddamn night and expect me to follow along like nothing happened? I don’t think so. You might’ve gotten your hooks in me once, Nureyev, but if you’re gonna pull this again you take your surprise and shove it right up your—

SOUND: SONIC BOOM.

…Whoa.

NUREYEV: Whoa indeed.

JUNO: What the hell was that? It went by so fast, it- it was like the sky just… blinked.

NUREYEV: That, my dear detective, was a train; and you and I are going to catch it.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The Martian desert is a cold, lonely place. You can look around for miles in every direction and never see a human footprint – never see a single sign that anyone has ever lived on this dusty rock.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, which means people and the footprints they leave are my element. Places like this, empty for miles around… they give me the creeps.

NUREYEV: I do apologize for the theatricality, Juno, but you have to admit, the Utgard Express delivers quite a show.

JUNO (NARRATOR): He wasn’t reassuring me any. Peter Nureyev was his name – one of them, anyway. Back when we met he’d gone by Rex Glass, and within two days he’d stolen a lotta junk from me. A key, a mask, a kiss, and…

Eh, forget it. Not this time. I wasn’t gonna fall for it this time.

NUREYEV: As I think you’ve guessed, the recent thefts of ancient Martian artifacts can all be traced back to one individual. She wants what’s on that train, and she’s paid me to procure it for her – but I am of the opinion that we’re all better off if she never receives it. We must board that train, take the artifact, and destroy it – all before she realizes I’ve left her employ.

JUNO: How long do we have?

NUREYEV: Oh, until… tomorrow, at least.

JUNO: So we plan and execute the heist of the century in one day. Sure, alright. I don’t have any plans.

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: CAR ENGINE STARTS.

NUREYEV: The train runs on a very specific cycle. I know that it slows down once a week, and that is our only opportunity to board it… but why it slows and how we are to approach it even then, I’m uncertain.

JUNO: So if we don’t board it tomorrow, we’ll have to wait a week, and by then your employer will be onto us. Got it. Who is she, anyway?

NUREYEV: You wouldn’t have heard of her.

JUNO: Try me.

NUREYEV: Her name is… Miasma. She has no history in crime before these thefts, and those only began four years ago. She’s really an accomplished—

JUNO: Xenoanthropologist. Taught at Olympus U for fifty years; three lifetime achievement awards for her studies on Ancient Martian culture.

NUREYEV: I see you’ve done your homework.

JUNO: Did some research on the ancient Martians when I got into this mess. You tend to notice a name when it’s on half the articles you read. Big name in a small field, it seems like. When I saw she’d stopped publishing I assumed she was dead, but I guess she picked up a few new hobbies.

NUREYEV: I hear theft and murder are very popular these days. The new golf, they say.

JUNO: So what’s she want on the Utgard Express so badly? If this artifact is that important, wouldn’t they keep it in a vault or something?

NUREYEV: The Utgard Express is a vault – the single most secure vault on Mars. The honest fact is that with enough time and planning there isn’t a vault in the galaxy that a master thief can’t enter, which raises a challenge: how to keep the thief from ever getting to it in the first place.

JUNO: So they put the lockbox on a train and shoot it across Mars at a thousand miles an hour.

NUREYEV: Indeed. Inside that vault are some of the most precious items Mars has ever seen. The most dangerous, too.

JUNO: Dangerous?

NUREYEV: We’re not contending with Martian clothing or furniture anymore, not the junk left out on the curbside of history.

A weapon, detective. The weapon. I know very little about it other than the fact that it was the last weapon the Martians ever made… before they disappeared.

JUNO: The weapon that killed off the Martians… and Miasma wants it. The hell could she want a thing like that for?

NUREYEV: Weapons with that much destructive force are good for one thing only: power. It may masquerade as something else – money, or politics, or ideals – but power of that scope only seems justified if it rests in your hands.

JUNO: Power, maybe; but that doesn’t answer the rest of it… the mask, the key, the throne, the pill…

NUREYEV: (CHUCKLES)

JUNO: What?

NUREYEV: It’s just nice to see you gathering clues again. We make an excellent team, I think.

JUNO: (CLEARS THROAT) That’s all a fun story, Nureyev. But how do I know any of it’s true?

NUREYEV: Oh, you can’t.

JUNO: …Seriously? That’s it?

NUREYEV: There’s no point in dancing around it. I’m your only source; in my industry one is more likely to destroy evidence than to keep it on hand. You’ll just have to trust me.

JUNO: Trust you? That’s a good one.

NUREYEV: It’s not so difficult. As far as you’ve seen, I act solely in my own self-interest. Your only choice is to take my word that working with you is my interest.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I couldn’t tell if he was leaning in or if my tight little car had finally gotten the best of me, but that smell… suddenly I was wrapped up in the smell of his cologne all over again, a smell like the spices of some faraway planet. He had that same smirk on, too, like he’d just thought of some private joke that he didn’t feel the need to share…

Damn it, Steel. Not again. Not this time.

NUREYEV: Regardless, we’ve bigger business to deal with at present – and not much time in which to do it. Tell me, detective: do you like to gamble?

JUNO: I got in the car with you, didn’t I?

NUREYEV: (LAUGHS) Well, I hope you’re willing to push the stakes higher than that. We’re headed to the Oasis Casino Resort – my treat.

JUNO (NARRATOR): By the time we pulled into the Oasis, Nureyev’s plan had already been set in motion. He pointed me towards the parking garage and told me to stop the car.

NUREYEV: We’re pressed for time, so I’m going to ask you to park. I’ll check in and start looking for Engstrom.

JUNO: Engstrom? Like… Brock Engstrom? The jewel thief?!

NUREYEV: Please! Retired jewel thief. These days the only crime Engstrom’s guilty of is charging for his ridiculous “seminars in motivation.”

JUNO: The idea of hanging around at a pickpocket convention doesn’t exactly reassure me, Nureyev.

NUREYEV: I wouldn’t even give Engstrom the honor of calling him a pickpocket anymore. He did all of his best work decades ago, and now that the statute of limitations has run out he’s milked the story for every cred it’s worth… and all while being insufferably smug about it. As though he isn’t the thousandth half-rate cutpurse to think of that.

JUNO: But—

NUREYEV: Oh, and you’ll need these.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

JUNO: Registration? ID? But I already have my… Hang on, the hell kind of name is ‘Dahlia Rose’?!

NUREYEV: Yours, now. Oh, don’t make that face. Not every name can be as pretty as Juno.

SOUND: CAR DOOR OPENS.

Ta, Dahlia dearest. I’ll see you in room one-one-thirteen.

SOUND: CAR DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The rest of it went just like Nureyev said it would. The paperwork all checked out; even the fake driver’s license he gave me went through their systems without complaint.

SOUND: CROWD CHATTER.

The Oasis was gigantic, a huge green tower in the red, red sands. It took me nearly a half an hour of dodging bookies and drunk tourists to find the room.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPENS.

JUNO: Hello? …Nureyev? Glass? Whoever the hell you are today?

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES, FOOTSTEPS.

The hell is… (SIGHS) Great. Of course.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was a note by the phone. It read, ‘Off to find Engstrom. Will call. Miss you already. —Duke Rose.’

I knew Nureyev had written it. I’d received a note from him once before which I’d read a few… hundred times. Threw it out the window one day and nearly fell out scrambling to get it back.

The vents coughed up a breeze and a shadow rustled in the corner. I jumped, reached for a gun I didn’t have. Then I saw it was just a coat.

Nureyev’s coat.

SOUND: RUSTLING, CLINKING.

I started through the pockets. a knife; some nuts from the bar; a matchbook from the front desk. Even in the arctic air conditioning, I was sweating. Rex Glass had peeled his skin away to reveal Peter Nureyev, so how did I know Nureyev wouldn’t peel his off to reveal… who?

Christ, he kept a lot of junk in his pockets. A lockpick in a hand mirror. A camera hidden in the button. Bottomless. Endless. Hints of the man, or the mask?

Then, tucked in a hidden pocket inside the left breast, I found them.

SOUND: CRUMPLING PAPER.

Notes. Dozens of them. Crumpled into tiny little balls, diagrams and swirling scripts I’d never seen before. A code. From who?

His boss wanted me dead. How did I know they weren’t still working together? How did I know these weren’t… instructions?

SOUND: PHONE RINGS.

JUNO: (GASPS)

SOUND: BEEP.

What?

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Ah, Dahlia, so you found the room after all. Marvelous, marvelous!

JUNO: Yeah, sure. Marvelous.

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Well, dear, you can always take a few of the pills the doctor gave you if you’re feeling bloated. I told you about Mr. Engstrom? Well, he says a game has just opened up and I’ll need you down here immediately.

JUNO: You sound like you’ve got it under control. What makes this so important that I’ve got to be there?

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): You’re my good luck charm, Dahlia. If I could do this without you, I would have left you at home.

JUNO: (GROWLS) Fine. I’m on my way. What room?

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Oh, one of Mr. Engstrom’s friends will be by to help you any moment now.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

Ah, that must be her. Don’t keep her waiting. Oh, and do wear that suit I love so much, will you? I hung it in the closet for you.

JUNO: You bought me clothes?!

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Don’t say I never get you anything. See you soon!

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.

SOUND: BEEP. ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. MUFFLED VOICES.

VOICE: Mr. Engstrom’s private room is just at the end of this hall.

JUNO: Would you mind not smoking? I got sensitive lungs.

VOICE: Me too. They don’t do so well if I’m not smoking. You learn to live with it, hon.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

NUREYEV: Dahlia! There you are!

JUNO: Hi… honey.

ENGSTROM: Thank you, Valencia.

Dahlia Rose. Your husband’s told me so much about you.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

Have a seat, please.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It looked like Engstrom could buy quite the operation. The rings on his wrinkled, shaking fingers were weighed down by gems nearly as big as paperweights and the cigar he smoked must have cost a lot of money, because the stink was awful.

The most impressive part of the ensemble, though, was Engstrom’s ‘friend’ Valencia. She was exactly the kind of bodyguard I didn’t want to deal with because she didn’t look like a bodyguard at all. She looked like a lounge singer, all snaky neck and eyes too far apart.

And she didn’t look armed. That worried me.

ENGSTROM: Valencia, if you would.

VOICE [VALENCIA]: Yes, Mr. Engstrom.

SOUND: CARDS SHUFFLING.

ENGSTROM: The game your husband and I have agreed upon takes some time to prepare, so let’s get to know each other a bit, shall we? Drink?

JUNO: Heavily.

SOUND: LIQUID POURING.

ENGSTROM: Duke was just telling me, Dahlia, that you two lifted the Coveter’s Jewel during its museum tour in the Outer Rim.

JUNO: Sounds like Duke.

NUREYEV: I’m surprised word about the Jewel hasn’t made it to Mars. It was a very big job on the Outer Rim.

ENGSTROM: The Outer Rim is a very small pond, Rose. Your whales hardly rank for minnows here.

NUREYEV: Well, that’s just how we were feeling, Mr. Engstrom! That’s why we thought we ought to sell that rock and use the cash to go after something really exciting. And that’s when we stumbled upon… you know.

ENGSTROM: Plans to stop the Utgard Express. If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Rose: if you can stop that train, what are you doing here? You should be out there, looting to your heart’s content.

JUNO: I was just wondering the same thing.

NUREYEV: Well, there’s the Utgard security team, isn’t there? If there’s any sign the train has stopped, within sixty seconds we’d be drowning in guards, and that’s not nearly enough time to get what we need.

But you, Mr. Engstrom – I hear you know how to get on that train without alerting security.

ENGSTROM: And so here we are. You can stop the train, but not board it; I can board the train, but can’t leave once I’ve done so. Each of us has information the other needs, but cannot allow the other to learn. This would be an impasse, were it not for our game. The most complicated game in the galaxy, they say.

JUNO: Sounds… fun?

ENGSTROM: A game of wagers where the stakes don’t come in creds, but rather… questions. Information. We call it: Rangian Street Poker.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

VALENCIA: The game is ready, Mr. Engstrom.

JUNO: That’s the game? There’s got to be a hundred decks on this table!

NUREYEV: Could we talk our way through the first hand? Dahlia gets a little cranky when he feels left out.

ENGSTROM: If you insist.

Your Ask, Rose.

NUREYEV: Very generous of you!

So, Dahlia, one of us asks a question to start the round. Let’s start with. um… How do we get aboard the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: (SIGHS) The game’s not ending that quickly.

NUREYEV: Now Mr. Engstrom counters with his own question, and if I agree to it, we play a hand to see which of us gets his question answered. The counter-asker can’t refuse the question; only the asker can turn down the round.

ENGSTROM: Like so: how do I stop the Utgard Express?

NUREYEV: (CHUCKLING) I’ll pass, of course.

JUNO: So if he doesn’t like your question, he has to ask something you don’t want to answer.

ENGSTROM: Just so.

Ah, I nearly forgot. One last matter of business: in a game where each player stakes the truth, we must, of course, address the punishment for lying. And so, let us discuss your… collateral.

NUREYEV: We’re just going by Standard Variation rules, aren’t we? If I lie, you kill me; if you lie, I kill you. (LAUGHS) That’s a rule as old as human civilization, Mr. Engstrom. I think I can follow it.

ENGSTROM: How good to know I’m playing with an honest man.

Detective Steel, would you mind passing me my drink?

JUNO: Get it yours– …what did you just call me?

ENGSTROM: Oh, did I let something slip? (CHUCKLES)

NUREYEV: …Hm. I take it the game has changed, then.

ENGSTROM: Not if you’re as honest as you claim to be.

Did you really think I’d clear out my afternoon for a couple of yokels claiming they can stop the Utgard Express? These streets runneth over with people who think they’ve solved that train. Hobbyists and lunatics and liars, the Utgard Express draws them all… and usually to my doorstep.

NUREYEV: Yet you’ve made time for me.

ENGSTROM: Before I play with anyone, I have their name and address on file – the surveillance system in the front lobby takes care of that for me. Thus, should the terms of honesty within our game be violated, I know exactly where to collect my collateral. But you, Rose… we couldn’t find you anywhere. No address, no name; it’s as if you don’t exist. That interests me. I fully believe you know how to stop the Utgard Express, and what’s more, I believe that isn’t even the most valuable secret you hold. But that does still raise the question of your collateral. If I can’t find you when your lies reveal themselves, you’re hardly motivated to tell the truth.

NUREYEV: So you’ll need a life you can take. Someone you can find.

SOUND: SHIFTING IN SEATS.

JUNO: What?

Why’re you two looking at- me…

(UNDER HIS BREATH) Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.

NUREYEV: If I lie you’re going to kill him.

ENGSTROM: We know where to find him. Detective Steel could not be more visible if he were aflame.

NUREYEV: He does know how to get into trouble, doesn’t he. I’ll accept your terms.

JUNO: Anyone gonna check if I’m okay with this? Like, anybody?

ENGSTROM: Well, now that that’s settled, let’s play. It is my turn to ask.

What planet were you born on?

JUNO: Every time. Every goddamn time.

NUREYEV: I’ll counter: how do you have access to the Oasis’s security footage?

ENGSTROM: I accept. Let’s play.

SOUND: BELL DINGS, CARDS SHUFFLING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I tried to follow the game. I didn’t stand a chance. Their hands shot across the table, flipping cards and shuffling decks. They had a lot to say about—

ENGSTROM: Rapids?

NUREYEV: Concourse.

ENGSTROM: North or South?

NUREYEV: West.

JUNO (NARRATOR): —but it was all gibberish to me until the dust settled, and Nureyev and Engstrom each had a hand of two cards.

ENGSTROM: Reveal.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Engstrom had a pair of aces. Nureyev had a two of clubs and a picture of a goat.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

NUREYEV: There we are, then.

SOUND: PAPER RIPPING.

JUNO: Didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Rose.

NUREYEV: Nothing to be sore about. The winner always tears his hand, and the Twin Wargoats is one of the best hands in the game. I won.

JUNO: I… I give up.

ENGSTROM: My answer: I pay the Oasis generously for these private rooms. I’m retired; this is the only sport that still entertains me; they want to keep their star customer. So as long as I bring them publicity, the Casino doesn’t care how I choose my opponents.

NUREYEV: Well, ask a boring question, get a boring answer. Your Ask, Engstrom.

ENGSTROM: My Ask… hmm… What is your real name?

JUNO (NARRATOR): If Nureyev was worried, his face didn’t show it. Most of the time he just looked bored, with a half-smile like he was humoring the world, waiting for it to do something worth his attention again.

NUREYEV: How do we get on board the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: Very interesting. (CHUCKLES) Pass, of course.

NUREYEV: Of course. Shall we speed things up a bit, Engstrom?

ENGSTROM: I thought you would never ask.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Then they really started moving – cards and questions flying across the table. I tried to follow the game. The hands never made sense to me, but there was one thing I could follow well enough:

SOUND: BELL DINGS. PAPER TEARING.

NUREYEV: Your win. I’m Outer Rim, originally. Brahma.

SOUND: BELL DINGS. PAPER TEARING.

NUREYEV: Your win. No military experience.

SOUND: PAPER TEARING, BELL DINGING SEVERAL TIMES.

NUREYEV: Your win. Your win. Your win.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Nureyev was losing. Bad.

He didn’t give in, though. He’d ask his questions; he’d lose; and over and over again they’d return to the same old battleground:

NUREYEV: How do we get onto the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The message was clear and cold as the ice in their drinks: as soon as either of those questions was answered, the game would be over. But what the hell did Engstrom expect to get out of Nureyev’s name?

Valencia stood behind us. Something about her made me nervous. Her boss was winning but her movements were jittery, impatient: she was smoking a cigarette out of one of those long, fancy holders, but she’d chewed the hell out of her end of it.

NUREYEV: I’ll hit the corners.

ENGSTROM: East to West.

JUNO: It’s Valencia, right? Mind getting me something to drink?

VALENCIA: Do I look like a waiter to you, tough guy?

JUNO: I placed an order and you looked like you wanted me to die, so yeah. Scotch, double.

VALENCIA: You can get your own drink. I’m watching the game.

JUNO (NARRATOR): She was watching pretty intently, too, her eyes flicking from card to card, deck to deck. She looked like an expert – which made it funny that she didn’t know the first goddamn thing about it.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM.

It took a second for that thought to sink in. I didn’t know how it got there, and it barely made sense. She’d set the cards up; she was watching like a hawk. But the actual rules? She knew as much about Rangian Street Poker as I did.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM STOPS.

I was sure of it. I just wasn’t sure how I was sure of it.

She bit her cigarette holder hard and glared at me.

VALENCIA: A picture would last longer, you know.

JUNO: Why don’t you sit at the table, anyway? Better view.

VALENCIA: The view is fine from back here.

JUNO: You don’t say? Maybe I’ll join you.

VALENCIA: Mr. Rose, would you mind telling your date to behave himself?

NUREYEV: Yes.

ENGSTROM: Then I’ll do it for you. Mr. Steel, you will leave my assistant alone, or you will wait outside.

JUNO: She started it.

NUREYEV: (LAUGHS) What can I say? Good luck charms come in all forms. Mine came out “petulant detective.”

ENGSTROM: (THUMPS TABLE) He cannot stand back there!

VALENCIA: Move.

JUNO: You move. I like this spot. Right behind my good pal Rose – how you feelin’, Rosey?

NUREYEV: Thoroughly entertained.

JUNO: And besides, your spot isn’t even so special, Valencia. The one thing you’ve got a really good view of is, well, Rose’s hand.

ENGSTROM: (CLEARS THROAT, COUGHS)

NUREYEV: (LAUGHS)

JUNO: Just saying, it’d be too bad if we found out your boss had an unfair edge.

ENGSTROM: Just what are you trying to imply?

JUNO: Oh, did it seem like I was implying something? Then I’ll be blunt: you are cheating. For a card shark you’ve got a pretty bad poker face, Engstrom. The second I stepped between Valencia and Rose here, you looked like you were gonna be sick.

NUREYEV: Very impressive, detective. So, Engstrom? Are you cheating?

ENGSTROM: Is- is that your question?

JUNO: Oh, no. No. No, no more questions. No more cards. And definitely no more of this dumb, dumb, stupid dumb game, either!

ENGSTROM: You’ll never know how to get on board the Utgard Express.

JUNO: Empty threat, Engstrom. We’d never learn a thing about that train playing against a cheater anyway! Let’s go, Rose.

ENGSTROM: I am not cheating!

SOUND: DULL THUMP. PAPERS FLUTTERING.

Valencia! Clean this up!

VALENCIA: Yes, sir.

NUREYEV: Not cheating, you say.

JUNO: You… liar! Y- you said if Rose lies you get to track me down and kill me! Then you just come out with that?!

ENGSTROM: I will not tolerate this, do you hear me? You have no evidence!

JUNO: Evidence?!

NUREYEV: (SIGHS) He’s right, Juno. Have a seat.

JUNO: Have you lost your goddamn mind?

NUREYEV: No, but you appear to have misplaced yours.

JUNO: Alright, that’s it. I’m callin’ a time out!

ENGSTROM: Time out? What sort of game do you think this is?

JUNO: Fine, halftime, seventh-inning stretch, whatever you want to call it. Rose, you’re comin’ with me.

NUREYEV: Excuse me, Engstrom. My private eye is acting up.

ENGSTROM: Put some drops in him, then. He’d better behave himself when you come back!

JUNO: Don’t count on it!

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

NUREYEV: Juno, this display is entirely unprofessional, even for—

JUNO: You want to tell me what the hell all of that was about?

NUREYEV: Well, you see, there’s a weapon, on a train—!

JUNO: You know what I mean! I- I bailed you out ten times in there and you just keep digging yourself deeper!

NUREYEV: I’m having some difficulty following this metaphor, Juno. Am I a sailor or a ditch-digger?

JUNO: Oh, quit joking around.

NUREYEV: Fine. Engstrom has backed himself into a corner, and we are in position to take advantage of that. Or we would be, if we were in there right now.

JUNO: He just admitted to cheating and you want to keep playing Go Fish?

NUREYEV: There are several games being played at that table, Juno, but I’m afraid Go Fish isn’t one of them. I am playing Rangian Street Poker as a distraction from the real game at hand. Your game.

JUNO: I’m playing a game? Didn’t you think I’d need to know about it?

NUREYEV: You do know. You’ve already made the first move.

JUNO: But—

NUREYEV: Engstrom has lied to us, Juno – and after making the punishment for lying absolutely clear!

JUNO: But you said we didn’t have any– evidence…

Ohhhhhhhhhh. You want me to find the evidence.

NUREYEV: Glad you’ve caught up. May we go back now?

JUNO: So that’s it? You play a game while I stop a con artist and save the world.

NUREYEV: I said I needed you.

JUNO: To be your stooge, maybe. It’s not like you’ve got anything on the line. Worst case scenario for you is that this game goes belly-up, and a few days from now I go belly-up, too.

NUREYEV: You’re not still whining about the collateral, are you? My God, you’re a sensitive little thing.

JUNO: You’re betting my life!

NUREYEV: I would never bet your life.

JUNO: Come on, do you seriously think I’m that much of an idiot? If you lose, you’ll make up some other name and it’ll all fall on me. You’re throwing me under again, just like you did with the Kanagawas.

NUREYEV: Like the Kanagawas? Really? You have no idea how much I did to keep the Kanagawas off you, Juno. You have no idea how much I’ve risked already. For you.

If I lose this hand… I’m telling him my name. Do you understand what that means for me?

JUNO: Just because the name’s on your birth certificate doesn’t mean it’s worth anything. You pick up a new name with your groceries every week.

SOUND: FAUCET TURNS, WATER RUNNING.

NUREYEV: A word of advice to the crass detective: it’s not kind to tell someone their gift means nothing to you.

JUNO: Hey, I, I didn’t—

NUREYEV: Of course my name is worth something. I cycle those other names out, but by now I’m skilled enough not to leave a trace with them. But my birth name… links me to things it would be best if everyone forgot.

That name is very nearly my only weakness, and I’m risking it all, here. On you.

JUNO: …First off, I don’t believe you.

NUREYEV: Your denial knows no bounds!

JUNO: I’d call it skepticism, but we’ll agree to disagree. Second, if you are telling the truth, you’re an idiot. You bet your life on me? You barely know me!

NUREYEV: This isn’t about knowing you. It’s about trust. I trusted you, didn’t I? In return for that, I only ask that you trust me. So why not? Just let go, Juno. We could do anything in arms together.

JUNO: Fine. Do I want to trust you? Sure. Hell, I want to trust Engstrom, too, and Valencia, and this whole sorry planet. I want to gather us all up in a big group hug, and kiss, and slobber, and talk about how nice it is that we can all be so honest with each other. It sounds great, sure, whatever. And it also sounds like a good way to get dead.

NUREYEV: Is it? I’m still alive, aren’t I? And I trust you.

JUNO: (SIGHS) I have no idea why you do.

NUREYEV: Oh, I have my reasons. Your eyes—

JUNO: My what?

NUREYEV: Sharpshooter’s eyes, of course. And I trust your mind: a master detective’s. And most of all because I trust your will: stubborn as a child in a supermarket.

JUNO: That all sounds nice, but is it really enough reason to trust someone you barely—

NUREYEV: And, of course, I trust you because I have researched you. Extensively.

JUNO: What?

NUREYEV: Just… an incredible amount of research.

JUNO: Quit it!

NUREYEV: (LAUGHING) That’s the cranky detective I know and… tolerate.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

VALENCIA: (THROUGH THE DOOR) Mr. Engstrom wants you all to know that he’s getting bored. Are you two done kissing in there, or should we call this game right now?

NUREYEV: Thank you, Valencia! Tell Mr. Engstrom we’ll be there in just a moment.

So, detective. Are there any other insecurities I can massage before we return to the game?

JUNO (NARRATOR): I still had the notes I’d taken from his jacket. I felt them burning in my pocket. Just one question, and I’d know. All I had to do was pull them out and ask.

JUNO: No. I’m all set.

NUREYEV: Good. I’m counting on you, you know.

JUNO: If you are, you’re an idiot. A real idiot.

NUREYEV: Well, it’s up to you to prove that either way, isn’t it? Come along. Engstrom is waiting.

ENGSTROM: It’s about time. Is everything under control?

NUREYEV: As controlled as he’ll ever be. My detective gets restless if he isn’t taken for a walk every few hours.

ENGSTROM: While you were away I received an invitation I don’t intend to decline. I can give you twenty minutes more. Enough time for a few hands; a last chance at a few big questions.

NUREYEV: Why do I get the sense you only have one question in mind?

ENGSTROM: Sit. Let’s play.

Now: what is your name?

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) Juno. I can only hold him off for so long. This is your only opening. Are you ready?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) I’m looking, alright.

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) Good.

(LOUDER) What is the access code to your personal bank account?

ENGSTROM: (LAUGHING) I see! Quite a defensive maneuver, Rose!

NUREYEV: Pass or play, Engstrom?

ENGSTROM: Pass, of course. I wouldn’t risk my retirement on you. And besides, you know how this game has to end.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I checked Valencia for the usual tells. Nothing. No hand motions; Engstrom wasn’t even looking at her. Whatever they were using, it was nothing I’d ever seen before.

NUREYEV: How do we board the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): We were running out of time, and Engstrom wasn’t willing to budge anymore.

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Not a single hand was played. We were going nowhere, and I couldn’t find anything.

NUREYEV: Juno.

JUNO: I know, I know!

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The moron had staked his entire life on me. He was about to find out just how big a mistake he’d made.

ENGSTROM: What is your name? Your name, Rose! What is your name!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Until, finally…

ENGSTROM: That’s enough, Rose. I was under the impression that you had either the courage to play or the decency to admit your cowardice. I was wrong on both accounts.

JUNO: Courage? You’re cheating.

ENGSTROM: If you levy these false accusations against me one more time, Mr. Steel!

NUREYEV: I apologize for the detective’s outburst, Mr. Engstrom. Tensions run high in a game like this.

ENGSTROM: Were the game played properly, they might. I’ve taken naps tenser than this travesty. I will give you one final chance, Rose. One last hand. After that, I’m afraid I have other obligations to which I must attend.

NUREYEV: Alright, then.

How do we board the Utgard Express?

JUNO: You’re joking. He’s cheating! He’s gonna cream you!

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Play.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) You’re pulling this too early! I am not ready!

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) Our time has run out, I’m afraid. What do you have so far?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) They’re not communicating directly. Best guess is she’s got something on her.

ENGSTROM: Care to share your conversation with the rest of the table?

NUREYEV: Corners!

(QUIETLY) Is it a camera?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) No. No lenses, and both their eyes are organic. No way for the feed to get through.

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) I don’t want to know what it isn’t, Juno.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) I know, but—

ENGSTROM: And that, my friend, is the game.

NUREYEV: Don’t be ridic– Well.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I had to look at the hands twice to shake the déjà vu. Nureyev had a pair of aces. Engstrom had a two of clubs and a picture of a goat.

ENGSTROM: Heh. I win. A fitting end, I’d say. Now, Rose. Your name.

NUREYEV: Last chance, Juno.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Valencia was clearing the table. I knew she must have the key to Engstrom’s method somewhere on her, but I didn’t know where.

My eyes met hers, and then… I saw it.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM.

It hit me all at once, a picture clearer than thought: her cigarette.

In my head, a diagram. A cutaway of her cigarette: a hidden button by her teeth, shortwave transmitter, Morse Code translation drive. I knew how it was powered, what parts it took to build it. I even heard a few words of an argument they’d had about how it needed to make smoke, about how the chips couldn’t take that kind of heat, about how they’d have to find a way to make it work.

I saw it all. I had no time to think about how I’d seen it.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM STOPS.

VALENCIA: Feeling emotional, Detective? Your nose is bleeding.

JUNO: (SNIFFS) Huh. Thanks for the tip. Mind if I bum a smoke?

VALENCIA: For the last time, hon, I– oof!

SOUND: PUNCH.

ENGSTROM: What the hell do you think you’re doing!

JUNO: Something really, really satisfying.

ENGSTROM: Put down that cigarette!

JUNO: Gladly.

SOUND: SMASH. FEEDBACK WHINE.

ENGSTROM: Ah! Damned feedback!

JUNO: Well, well. Funny blend of tobacco Valencia’s into – you ever heard of a cigarette with a wireless transmitter tucked away inside of it, Rose?

SOUND: FEEDBACK STOPS.

NUREYEV: I’m going to guess that earphone you’ve just pulled out isn’t for listening to the radio, Engstrom.

ENGSTROM: So you caught me in a lie. So what? You still don’t know how to board the Utgard Express.

NUREYEV: No, but you were very, very clear on the consequences for lying, weren’t you.

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

Juno, turn away, please. I’m going to stab Mr. Engstrom to death now.

ENGSTROM: Kill me? You’re a fool, Rose. I told you: the Oasis rests on my notoriety. If you kill me, if you hurt their bottom line, you’ll wish you died here.

NUREYEV: Well, Juno? He raises a valid point.

JUNO: He does. But there are worse things we can do than kill him. Said so himself.

ENGSTROM: I’ve been in this business too long for empty threats to faze me.

JUNO: Don’t worry, this one’s full to bursting. I’m betting the Oasis wouldn’t like it if word gets out that their big celebrity’s a cheater. Bad publicity.

NUREYEV: And bad publicity means bad business. How did you put it, Engstrom? “If you hurt their bottom line, you’ll wish you died here?”

ENGSTROM: (GROWLS)

NUREYEV: There is an out, of course.

ENGSTROM: I’ve been after that train for half a century, Rose, and you’re going to rob it out from under me?

NUREYEV: That is the plan, yes.

ENGSTROM: This new generation of thieves hasn’t a scrap of honor. What has crime come to?

NUREYEV: Bigger and better things. Now talk.

ENGSTROM: (SIGHS) As you know, that train moves too quickly to be approached. But a lockbox is useless if one can’t put anything in it or take anything out.

JUNO: So it has to slow down to take any cargo.

ENGSTROM: It slows down once a week to intercept shipments. There’s a site out in the desert. They launch high-speed transport drones which intercept the train and drop their payloads. The next shipment is… tomorrow morning. Five o’clock.

NUREYEV: And where is that launch site?

SOUND: WRITING.

ENGSTROM: Here. The coordinates.

NUREYEV: They had most certainly better be. Wouldn’t want anyone to start asking where you get your cigarettes. Come along, Juno.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

ENGSTROM: You’ll regret crossing me, Rose. Do you hear me? You’ll remember this mistake as long as you live.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

NUREYEV: I doubt that. You’ve proven yourself eminently forgettable already. Ta-ta… whoever you are.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): My head was swimming after that game – a panicked little one-armed doggy-paddle, going around and around, sinking with every stroke. We won. I’d created the opening, and Nureyev delivered the killing blow. We won – and we’d even done it with style. But I didn’t feel like a winner. Looking at Nureyev, thinking about those notes in his pocket, thinking about how I still had no idea who he really was… I felt like I’d just traded one con artist for another.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

NUREYEV: Why the long face, detective? We beat him!

JUNO: Don’t remind me.

NUREYEV: Oh, cheer up. You’re alive! That’s better than most people!

JUNO: Most people who work with you?

NUREYEV: No, just most people. What’s gotten into you?

JUNO: Sitting down to a death threat isn’t exactly my idea of a nice afternoon.

NUREYEV: I told you, Juno, that I was never going to let that happen.

JUNO: Because a master criminal is the poster boy for honesty, right.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, CLOSES.

NUREYEV: If this working relationship is to be at all effective, detective, you’re going to need to at least make an attempt to trust me.

JUNO: Trust you! Why the hell should I?

NUREYEV: I’ve saved your life at least once today.

JUNO: I figured out the cigarette!

NUREYEV: Ah, yes. I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you do that, exactly?

JUNO: Look, I’ve got no reason to trust you, alright? You lied to me. You stole Grim’s Mask from me. Then you swing in out of nowhere on a beam of goddamn starlight and you expect me to just forget everything and not think it’s a little convenient?

NUREYEV: Convenient? Juno, you called me. Through Valles Vicky.

JUNO: I—! You—!

NUREYEV: If it was convenient for anyone, it was me. I have very few allies on Mars and had presented myself with a remarkably risky, not to mention extremely deadly, two-man job. I was running out of time rapidly. And then I get a call about a certain detective, who – what was your phrase? Ah: “swung in on a beam of starlight.” Convenient, certainly. But not all convenience is conspiracy.

JUNO: If you honestly believed that, Nureyev, you’d be dead.

NUREYEV: Think what you like. I have neither the time nor energy to make you believe me.

SOUND: RUSTLING, CLINKING.

JUNO: What are you doing?!

NUREYEV: Ah, this? An ancient maneuver, practiced by all the galaxy’s most powerful men and women. It’s known as ‘getting ready for sleep.’ You should try it. Immediately.

JUNO: I’m not done with you!

NUREYEV: I certainly hope not. Good night.

JUNO: I’m not going to let you gut me in my sleep!

Listen to me, damn it! Let’s see you try to explain these!

SOUND: CRUMPLING PAPER.

NUREYEV: What in the world…?

You took these from my coat pocket, didn’t you?

JUNO: I did. What do they say?

NUREYEV: Juno…

JUNO: Goddammit, what the hell do they say!

NUREYEV: These… are doodles.

JUNO: What?

NUREYEV: Even a master criminal has slow moments where he isn’t plotting to kill innocent private eyes in their sleep. So I doodle. Sometimes they end up in my pockets.

JUNO: Like I buy that!

NUREYEV: This one is a cat.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

Note the ears, the tail, the six compound eyes. And this…

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

A party. Balloons, dancers, music.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

This is a star hauler… a design for a more secure safe… a zoo I once saw… a—

JUNO: Yeah, yeah. I got it.

NUREYEV: I put my livelihood in your hands, you know. My invisibility is the most precious thing I have, and I trusted you with it. Why? Because in our work, trust is not optional. I have done the labor of trusting you, and now I ask that you return the same professional courtesy.

JUNO: You must go after some pretty easy marks if you think that’s gonna work on me, Nureyev.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

NUREYEV: Where are you going?

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

JUNO: Making a damn call. What’s it to you?

NUREYEV: Goodnight, Detective Steel.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES. FOOTSTEPS. COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: Come on, Rita, pick up, pick up…

RITA (FROM COMMS): Hiiiiiiii!!

JUNO: Rita, I need you to—

RITA (RECORDING): This is the office of the Steel Detective Agency, soon to be called Hard-as-Steel Investigations, or maybe Mista Steel Investigations: The Best Ones There Is, or OOH, OOH, maybe Steel and Rita Detective– NO! Rita and Steel Detective Agency! YES, that’s the one, I GOT IT!

JUNO: Damn it, Rita.

RITA (RECORDING): Aaaaaanyway, the boss ain’t here right now and neither am I, so you should probably call back during our normal business hours, which are– uh-oh.

JUNO (RECORDING): Rita! You’re not messing with the answering machine again, are you?

RITA (RECORDING): Nuh-uh, boss, I wasn’t, I swear!

JUNO (RECORDING): You better not be! I told you I liked that message the way it was!

RITA (RECORDING): But Bosssss, it was sooooo boooooooring, and I just—

SOUND: BEEP.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO: (SIGHS) Rita… Rita, this is Juno. I… I have no idea why I’m calling.

You want to know the truth? I’m not even sure how much I can tell you – or how much trouble I’m gonna get the both of us in trying to tell it.

The stakes are high this time, Rita. This isn’t some argument over stream timetables or cheating wives anymore. This is… everything. Giving this to me, Jesus, what was he thinking?

A guy does that for you, Rita, do you have to trust him back? Even if you aren’t sure you know who he is, even if you aren’t sure you know his real face, his real name… or what he’s really capable of doing to you?

And with this much on the line do I really have a choice?

I want you to close up the office. Take a week off. Take a month, hell. And if you don’t hear from me by then, there’s a safe underneath my desk. I want you to take—

SOUND: BEEP.

COMPUTER VOICE: End of message.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: She’ll figure it out.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPENS.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: RAIN & MUSIC.

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This tale, Juno Steel and the Train From Nowhere, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Noah Simes as Peter Nureyev, Emery Westlake as Brock Engstrom, Kristie Norris as Valencia, and Kate Jones as Rita.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Original music by Ryan Vibert.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m so sorry you’ve been called away, dear Traveler. We eagerly await your return.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

[ratandphilgames]

Our Lives Don’t Collide

{chapter 5: hey look ma i made it}

summary: Shit hits the fan when famous actor!Phil is caught smooching a boy in an alleyway. Only problem? He’s not out and what’s worse? The boy he was smooching was a journalist who set it all up to get a quick picture and now Phil is royally screwed. The only answer Phils management can come up with is a fake relationship to try and do damage control and famous actor!Dan is the perfect candidate.

chapter word count: 2873

total word count: 12809

rating: t

note: super thanks to everyone who likes/ reblogs/ sends me a message! the support has been amazing! also huge thanks to all the babes in the writing gc for motivating me to write! ily!

updates on thursdays!

tw for this chapter: homophobia 

{read on ao3}

{read from the beginning}

{next chapter}

—–

“Do you like me Dan? Are you trying to say you’re a big old gaylord?”

 Dan was shaking his head furiously, trying to find a way to make it out of the room without being killed. There was no way out, there was never a way out. The room had no doors, no windows, no hope for escape. Just rows and rows of lockers.

 He was in his teenage body, but his mind was aged adequately.

 “Have you got a big fat gay crush on me Dan?”

 He was cornered in the school hallway, conveniently, no teacher in sight, whether that was on accident or by design, Dan would never know. Sometimes he thought the educators turned a blind eye towards moments like these, thinking the little gay boy needed to be put in his place. A shiner wouldn’t do him any harm. A bruise would heal but a message would last forever.

 The boy had no face, he was slenderman esq in his school uniform as he walked closer and closer to Dan, leaving no option for escape as Dan backed himself into the corner.

 “Please don’t hit me.” Dan begged, the boy just laughed. All he ever did was laugh and taunt and corner him.

 Suddenly people were crowding around, watching, humiliating him.

 “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” the audience was chanting, knowing full well Dan wouldn’t fight back. He never fought back, his limbs seemed to be made of cement but even if they weren’t he wouldn’t retaliate.

 The boy with no face raised his fist, prepared to pummel Dan into nothing, his peers screaming their support for his attacker, losing their shit as the faceless boy prepared to attack.

 Right before the faceless boy could hit him, Dan’s eyes shot open and he looked around to realize he was not in his old school hallway, but rather his lounge. He’d fallen asleep on his couch the night before after Phil had left.

 His heart was beating a mile a minute as he tried to get his bearings on the world around him. He always woke up from nightmares feeling as though he’d just run a marathon, his heart working overtime trying to choose between fight or flight when all it really needed to do was wake the fuck up.

 You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

 This wasn’t the first time Dan had a dream like this, the feeling of being trapped, cornered, and cowering in fear of the faceless boy. It was reoccuring, to the point where he’d talked about his therapist about it. She said it was just his way of coping with the shit he went through growing up, the intense homophobia that just fueled his depression.

 Dan sat on the couch for a long time before he finally felt any motivation to do anything. He tried to regulate his breathing and get his nerves under control, once the initial shock had passed it was all about calming down so he didn’t ruin the whole days productivity.

 After he had managed to chill out a little, he felt around the couch, hoping to find his phone. He didn’t really know where it had ended up as he spent most of the time before falling asleep avoiding his responsibility of picking out the pictures he would post of him and Phil. He’d tried, at first, but soon found it made his heart ache just a little too much so he put it off for a later time, a terrible habit that he would have to break one time.

 When he finally found his cellular device the first thing he noticed when he went to unlock it was that it was 4 in the fucking morning, Dan was used to going to sleep around this time, not waking up (unless of course there was some sort of weird schedule for being on set for filming, in which case he dragged his butt out of bed at the asscrack of dawn, downing about 5 cups of coffee, and then trying his best. Those days were the ones that required the most takes to get the right scene.) The second thing Dan noticed about his phone was the fact that it was almost completely dead as he hadn’t been charging it all night.

 With a big fat groan Dan got up from the couch, walked into his bedroom and plugged his phone in, giving it the sweet juice it so desired. After that business was out of the way, he shuffled through his dresser and found some pajamas, or rather some sweats. Whether he would fall asleep again was still up in the air, but Dan was still wearing the skinny jeans he’d been wearing yesterday and it was just too uncomfortable to deal with anymore. How did he even fall asleep with such suffocating pants on?

 Falling asleep so soon after a dream such as the one he had would almost certainly result in having the same terrible experience again. It was still too fresh in his mind, he’d have to find a way to get the memory of it out his brain completely if he wanted to have a peaceful rest. That being said, if he just got up for the day now, at 4am, he could nap anytime during the day as he had literally nothing to do.

 The bad thing about acting is that you worked a shitton for a few months or less and then you’d made your years salary and you could just fuck around for the rest of the time, but for Dan, that just resulted in a lot of lounging and playing video games and general unproductivity. Working was a constant, it required him to get up and have a schedule and he actually enjoyed what he was doing most of the time, even if the hours were shitty. When he had all the time in the world to lay around, Dan would do exactly that, not being able to coax his mind into doing something productive.

 In the end Dan just decided to stay awake, he put on a pot of coffee and skimmed through twitter. The buzz around him and Phil was getting more serious, but some fans were adamant that Dan was secretly seeing his co-star Adam Devore, despite the fact that they hadn’t seen each other once since filming wrapped for ‘Switch Hitter’ and probably wouldn’t see each other until press for the movie officially started.

 It was the way the trailers painted them that made people so sure they were together, people forgot it was for the movie and that they’d both been acting. Still, he couldn’t blame them, and soon enough the whole thing would blow over once him and Phil had officially made their debut.

 There was definitely a lot of speculation over the nature of Dan and Phil’s relationship since the first photo had come out of Phil and the boy who looked startlingly like Dan kissing. Some people assumed it was Dan, some defended that it couldn’t be, and some just didn’t give a shit. It would certainly hit the news that Phil had stopped by his place by the time the sun rose completely and shortly after that the photos of them together would be on Dan’s instagram, making it ‘official’ so to speak.

 Once Dan started thinking about the photos and the events of the night prior, he couldn’t stop. He was also reminded that he needed to call his mum, better to get it over now than wait for her to see the tabloids. She was constantly checking entertainment news sources for Dans name in the headlines, claiming he didn’t keep her up to date enough so she’d figure out what was going on in his life herself.

 His mum was 8 hours ahead of him, meaning that if Dan did his calculations right it was just about noon back in Wokingham. The perfect time to receive a call from your son informing you that he was seeing a boy.

 Truth be told Dan wasn’t really sure how his mum would react to the news. She was constantly hounding him about finding someone who was good to him, but that was just because he worried about him being all alone in such a lonely position. Sure, he had the people who admired his work, and a handful of diehard fans, but at the end of the day he was going to bed alone and spending the majority of his days by himself. True, in this relationship he would still be going to bed alone, but at least his mums mind would be put to ease.

 He wasn’t sure how he felt about lying to her about such a big thing, but in the end Dan decided it was better for her health if she wasn’t so worried about her son, so really this was doing her a favor, right?

 After his phone had a little while to charge, Dan unplugged it and proceeded to go to his contacts, found his mum, and tried not to put too much thought into it as he clicked the little call button.

 Ring. Ring. Ring.

 “Hello?” his mum greeted.

 “Hi mum.”

 “Oh blimey, Daniel isn’t it near 4 in the morning, what’re you doing up?” She was a lot quicker at her time zone math than Dan was.

 “I woke up early and I needed to give you a ring anyways.”

 This sparked her attention immensely.

 “You needed to ring me? What about? Are you alright?”

 “Yes mum, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about something before the entertainment news got ahold of the story.”

 “Oh, alright, well then, spill the tea, bear.”

 There was so much for Dan to unpack in that one sentence from his mum. First of all did she just say ‘spill the tea’? She truly had been spending too much time reading gossip, it was getting scary. Second of all she called him ‘bear’, something that he’d actually quite missed. His childhood nickname held a soft spot in his heart, he felt waves of nostalgia and comfort from such a simple thing.

 “Okay, wow, okay. Uh. I’ve started seeing someone.”

 His mum gasped, actually audibly gasped.

 “Dan! That’s fantastic! Is it that boy from the movie you just shot?”

 Great, even his mum had heard the rumors about him and Adam fucking Devore. You film one movie with someone and suddenly your mum and everyone else on twitter thinks you’re dating, good god.

 “No, oh my god mum. It’s not Adam.”

 “Well then who is it?”

 “Uhhhh, you remember how over Christmas we watched that romance movie, I think it was called ocean eyes? Anyways I’m seeing the guy who played the fiance in that film. Phil Lester.”

 “Oh, he was lovely! I told you to find someone who treated you like he treated his girlfriend and now look! I practically got you two together.”

 Dan had forgotten about the offhand comment his mum had made during their viewing but now that he thought about it, she did mention finding Phil ‘charming’. That was around the time Dan’s little crush on Phil had started. His mum was a psychic? Who could’ve seen this coming?

 “Good job mum, you’re an everyday cupid.”

 “Of course. Well, I’ve got to go, your aunt was supposed to meet me for lunch and she just texted, so I better get a move on.”

 “Okay, have a nice lunch, tell her I say hi.”

 “I will, and hey Dan, if things get serious, do you promise that you’ll bring this boy home for me to meet?”

 Dan’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe this was going too far. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned anything to his mum. Maybe this was all a mistake. Everything was getting too real.

 “Yeah, I promise.”

 They said their goodbyes and his mum hung up to go have lunch with his aunt, leaving Dan to himself at what was now 4:30 in the morning.

 The obvious thing to do would be pick out the photos he was going to post on his instagram later that day now to get it out of the way, but Dan decided to instead watch anime for 2 hours as he sipped his coffee and found some cereal to eat. Only then could he flip through the pictures he and Phil had taken the day previous.

 They looked cute together, that was undeniable. It looked genuine too, not just on Dans part, they looked happy, in love, together.  Most of all they looked extremely convincing.

 Dan picked out one photo from each pose, one with them smiling, one with Phil kissing his cheek, and one with Phil nuzzling into Dan’s neck.

 He made sure they both looked nice in each of the photos before finding a black and white filter (he had an instagram theme to uphold) and making final decisions.

 Out of all the pictures they took, one was by far Dan’s favorite, but it wasn’t post worthy. He’d managed to snap a picture the moment Dan realized Phil’s lips were pressed against his cheek, the look on his face was absolutely priceless.

 After thinking about it for awhile, Dan decided that maybe he should send the pictures to Phil, get his approval before posting and all that.

 Don’t overthink it, just send him the photos and move on with your day. Don’t hyperfocus on this one message to the point of not being able to do anything else with your time. Just don’t do it.

 Trying not to think too much about it, Dan went to his contacts, started a message with Phil (or the number Phil had put in his phone, he really hoped it was his personal number and not like his publicist or something.) and send the 3 photos he’d picked out along with a short and sweet “caption?” as Dan hadn’t yet decided what he would caption the post and was hoping Phil had some sort of idea.

 He put his phone down after that, knowing that if he stayed on it he’d end up refreshing his texts every few seconds and that just wasn’t healthy. Instead he spent his time doing literally anything but that, he went through his closet, organized his movie collection, showered, and vacuumed.

 By the time his anxious productive energy had worn off it was nearing noon for him. He finally decided to grab his phone again.

 3 new messages.

 One was from his mum, telling him that lunch with his aunt had gone well, the next was from Shannon the momager, asking if she needed to arrange a car for Dan for any reason today, and then the third. The third message on his phone was from one Phil Lester.

 He was too nervous to open it. After a whole day of ignoring his phone for this exact reason, he couldn’t bring himself to look at the text he’d gotten.

 Eventually (too long for Dan to admit) he decided to just do it, to open the notification and see the doom that was waiting for him.

 From: Phil

 caption it “the cats out of the bag” or something

 we look cute ;)

 The sexual tension was too much for Dan as he stared at the winky face. That was flirting right? That was definitely flirting. There was no such thing as a platonic winky face, then again maybe Dan was reading too much into things, that was something he tended to do.

 Just calm down you chicken nugget.

 With Phil’s blessing Dan focused his crazed energy on formulating his instagram post. But then he thought ‘maybe I should give Phil a heads up before posting this’ and then he wondered if he was supposed to tell Shannon or Sam that he was going to post this. How much was he really supposed to do and where did Phil’s publicist step in?

 Against his better judgement Dan formulated a text to Phil asking him if it was okay if he posted the photos, and then he wrote out a similar one to Shannon.

 An hour later he had an answer from both of them.

 From: Shannon the momager

 all this stuff is up to you bby, this isn’t like acting, you don’t get a script.

 And

 From: Phil

 yeah! I’m okay with that, thanks again <3

 A heart? A HEART? Dan was literally going to have a heart attack, why did Phil have to be so damn flirty? It was too much for him to handle.

 With the final confirmation from both sides of the story, Dan made the final instagram post, captioned it with ‘guess the cats out of the bag now’ and clicked share, before all his anxiety could manifest into a person and physically beat him up.

 Emotionally drained from all the intense feelings and physically drained from waking up at 4am, Dan plugged in his phone and crawled into his nice comfy bed, ready for a nap.

 As he drifted off his thoughts were warm and positive, any trace of the horrid dream he’d woken up from earlier vanished.

 He was nervous, scared, but most of all, he was happy.  

[dxminnette-archive-blog]

hawaiian nights | kylan

who: Katherine Langford & Dylan Minnette 

location: Hawaii hotel & beach 

date: December 31, 2018

summary: a nervous Dylan makes a decision that would change his and Katherine’s life forever. he proposes. but will she say yes?

triggers: none

tagged: @katslngfrd

Dylan: was nervous, standing in front of the hotel mirror next to the door while Katherine was in the bathroom getting ready. He had tried rehearsing this for days, even before they left for Hawaii, but he still felt his head spinning every time he thought about it. Brandon gave him a simple idea, but one that would still blow Katherine away. They were going to dinner on the beach. A private area where nobody else but them would be. He had gone down there twenty minutes ago to check it out and the table was set thanks to the kind hotel staff. A few dozen candles lit the beach with rose petals. Thankful that there wasn't any wind tonight. He straightened out the collar of his dress shirt, reaching down to tap the pocket of his dress pants, feeling the ring box was still there. He moved away from the mirror, grabbing the bouquet of his girlfriends favorite flowers off the bed, waiting for her to exit the bathroom.

Katherine: wasn't really sure what Dylan had planned for this trip , she just figured it was a nice thing for them to spend New Year's alone together. she was really grateful that he got them out in Hawaii. It was warmer and beautiful , the perfect setting . Dylan just told her they were going to go eat and Katherine from the corner of the eye could see Dylan - dressing more dressy than anything . So she slipped onto one of her comfy dresses she had packed and applied mascara and lip stick . Kat didn't do too much makeup unless it was for work . " So , am i getting to know where we are going ? " she teased to her boyfriend as she looked at herself in the mirror , a normal thing Kat did as she told herself she was beautiful. stepping out of the bathroom , she smiled when she saw dylan with her favorite flowers . " oh , so somebody is really trying to get lucky tonight . " teasing with him as she winked at him , taking the boquet and softly kissing his lips . " thank you . " she whispered in his ear before she pulled away and smelled the flowers .

Dylan: smirked as he heard Katherine speak, shaking his head a little. “No, but I know your beautiful mind is going through a dozen scenarios about where I could possibly be taking you.” He looked up from the flowers he was holding just in time to see her step out of the bathroom. He froze in his spot, his eyes taking in her figure from head to toe. She was perfect, more than perfect. Words couldn’t describe how beautiful his girlfriend was. He considered himself the luckiest man in the world to have a woman with such a creative mind and looked beautiful without even trying. He found her the most beautiful when she just woke up, that was his favorite moments with her. Clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his trance. “You-you look amazing.” He smiled, handing her the flowers. “Hey, I’m always trying to get lucky.” He snickered, reaching out to push some of her hair behind her ear. “You ready to go, princess?”

Katherine: huffed as she heard him say she couldn't know . " I guess this is how you felt when I didn't tell you about your birthday party . " she tells with a chuckle before adding . " I hope you're not trying to kill me . " she teased with him . a pink tint covers her cheeks from how Dylan looks at her . something kat could never get use to as she would not see herself the way dylan did , she was lucky though that he did . he made her feel like the most beautiful person in the world . which is why she would always see dylan as the perfect boyfriend . she couldn't see anybody else but him . she chuckles as she smiles , " so do you , handsome . " she winks at him . kat chuckles some more as she nods . " you're not wrong . " as she nibbles on her bottom lip , nodding to his question. " yea i'm ready . " reaching for his hand to take.

Dylan: nodded in agreement. “yeah, that was exactly it. but you blew me away. i still can’t thank you enough for that. i had so much fun with the best people. you’re the best girlfriend ever.” hearing her compliment him was something he would never get used to, he wasn’t the type of guy to take compliments, he’d rather give them than receive but he was happy that Katherine was happy with what he could give her. he would always try and give her the world. taking her hand, he leads them out of the room, checking his pocket one more time for the ring before stepping into the elevator with her. ���so here’s the think, miss.. you gotta have your eyes closed for this surprise.” he looked over at her. “i brought a blindfold, but i didn’t want to make this seem weird or anything.” he chuckled.

Katherine: shook her head with a grin on her lips . " good . i was hoping i would . thankfully I had brandon and miles to help me with it . i'm glad , that's how i wanted it to be . oh wow , I won't mind hearing that more and more . " she teases with another wink towards him. kat liked knowing that she was a great girlfriend because kat always had a lot of love to give , but nobody ever to really give it to . so she was lucky when dylan came into the picture. she was happy and always would be with what they had . kat was happy because she had dylan by her side . her eyes widen as she looks over at him. " oh ? well you are for sure killing me now . " teasing him with a sigh . " okay , just don't run me into anything . " she giggles before closing her eyes . now she was even more curious of this surprise since she had to not see it.

Dylan: stepped closer to her in the elevator. “i’ll tell you every day if you want me to.” he whispered to the love of his life, leaning in to place a tender kiss to her cheek. the nervousness he was feeling earlier slowly fading away. “nah. i promise i won’t kill you. at least not yet.” he pokes her side and chuckles. they always teased and joked with each other. something that he loved finding in a partner was a sense of humor, and Kat definitely had that. “i’ve got you, i promise.” watching as her eyes closed just as the elevator doors opened. he placed his hands on her waist, maneuvering her through the empty lobby. it was late, almost midnight and he was sure everyone was out other places celebrating. “almost there.” he whispers in her ear, walking carefully down to the beach. “remember, no peaking.” her checks to make sure her eyes are still closed before stopping her just before the sand began. the waves crashing against the shore, it was dark so the candles and moon lit up the night. he squeezed his girlfriends sides. “okay, open your eyes.”

Katherine: smiled and nodded . " i'd like that . " she whispers back to him , before she whispers one more thing . " and i'll be doing it right back for you. " she blushes once more at the tender kiss and a sigh of happiness leaves her lips . she giggles and shakes her head . " at least give me two more months . " she teases before she gasps at his poke , ticklish on her sides. katherine enjoyed their teasing with one another as kat was one to mess around , she was glad dylan was the same way . " I trust you . always. " she tells him as she follows him with her eyes closed . she heard the silence of the lobby , remembering that most people would be out celebrating . when she hears dylan say they're almost there - she gets anxious for what he has for her." i won't . even though i really want to . " she pouts before she hears the waves crashing . " dylan .. w-" she cuts herself off when dylan says she can open her eyes . she gasps and covers her mouth . " oh my god , babe ..." she can't help the big smile she has as she turns to look over at her boyfriend.

Dylan: hears her surprise and steps to the side to stand next to her. he was proud of himself, for being able to hold this surprise in and manage to not mess it up. though it was all thanks to the hotel staff, he would personally thank them later. especially the chefs, who were currently making them a meal and servers would bring it out to them. “i wanted to do something special before this year ends. to show you how much you mean to me, and how much i love you.” he looks down at her, taking her hand again and walking her across the sand to the table. he stops, letting go of her hand to pull her chair out for her. “food will be coming shortly.” he mentioned just as a waiter came to their table and started pouring them glasses of wine. “i thought this was a better view than sitting in a lame dining room with random strangers.” he speaks, taking the seat across from her.

Katherine: was so amazed that dylan did this for her , just for her . she couldn't contain her smile as she looked at how beautiful it all looked . it was like she was in some romantic movie . she felt like she needed to pinch herself to make sure this wasn't a dream. she pinched herself quickly and nodded . " okay , so this isn't a dream . " she tells before shaking her head at him. a smile given just to him as she looks at the scenery . " it's beautiful . I - I'm literally speechless , that's how amazing this is. " she tells him with a smile , giving his hand a squeeze as they walk to the table. she sits in her chair and nods at dylan . " oh can't wait . " she hums as she thanks the waiter when pouring her glass. kat nods as she looks at how beautiful it all looks . " this is best view ever , but also because it's with you . " she turns her head to give dylan a soft kiss on the cheek .

Dylan: after being served dinner, and taking about what had occurred this past year for the couple and themselves individually, Dylan felt like now was the best time to make his move. they had just finished talking about Marvel and her role as dylan sat there, just staring at how perfect she was. he reached over, taking his glass of wine and taking a few much needed swigs before placing the glass back down on the table. clearing his throat before he spoke. “i gotta say, this has been the best year of my life, meeting you for the show really changed everything and i’m glad you decided to choose me.” he paused, his hand tapping against the box in his pocket nervously. he had the tendency to be clumsy, but he just wished this was go as smoothly as possible. “i have been in love with you since the first day i met you. and you make me a better person. you inspire me every day to go out there and be who i want to be without worrying about judgement. you’re just incredible..” he stood up from his chair, walking around to stand next to his girlfriend. “you really are the best person for me.” he smiles. “so i have something to ask you..” he pauses again, getting down on one knee and taking her hand in his.

Katherine: was enjoying the night with dylan as they had dinner and were talking about this past year. it really had been a good year for the two , kat atleast thought so as she thought of all they did , but also because the two took the leap of being something more . katherine was excited for what 2019 was going to bring for the couple . she had many ideas , but what she saw happening next she really didn't see . that's when she heard dylan giving his speech about her , she smiled and blushed at him . not wanting to interrupt until he was done until she saw him get down on one knee . kat had seen many romance movies to know what that meant . which is why she got out of her seat and lowered herself at dylan's eye level. " yes ! yes ! a million times yes ! " she exclaimed towards him as her eyes started to get teary . she hoped he was asking and she hadn't just made a fool out of herself for nothing . " oh shit , you're suppose to ask . " she bites down on her lip as she chuckles . " but it's a yes .. " she whispers to him with a smile. on the sand as she looks at dylan with love in her eyes .

Dylan: hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers wrapped around the box but before he could pull it out and ask her the most important question he’d ever ask anyone in his life, she cut him off and said yes. “what?” the nervousness melted away, he relaxed a little, but was shocked at her outburst. though that was something he loved about her. he smiled wide, still not believing his ears. “you said yes?” though he had just said it a couple of times, he was relieved. he was happy. “I had this awkward speech all planned out, i even wrote it down.” he chuckled, nodding towards the other pocket where a folded peace of paper was hiding. “wait, let me ask you properly, it’s what you deserve.” he mutters, pulling out ring box. but with all his excitement, he drops it in the sand. “shit. sorry.” dylan’s brows furrowed, picking it back up and dusting it off on the leg of his pants. “Katherine Langford, will you marry me?” he looks up at her, opening the box to reveal the ring.

Katherine: nibbled on her bottom lip as she couldn't contain herself as she hadn't even let him finish and she already said yes . " yes , silly . " she tells him once more as she smiles at him . nodding at him as she leans in closer to him . " I can say it another language if you'd like ." teasing him as she looks at him with a grin . " oh darn , i can't believe i missed it . you'll just have to let me read it later. " she giggles as she feels the jitters from her being so excited . she giggles and nods . " okay okay , if you say so. " she smiles and then giggles . she could see how nervous dylan was and it made her just love him even more. " it's fine , babe . " kat tells him before she gives him a loving smile . when he asks her properly she can't help herself as she quickly nods . " yes , a thousand times yes . " she accepts as she kisses him softly .

Dylan: couldn't stop hearing her say yes in his head. he would picture this moment forever in the back of his head. the best day of his life. "yes?" he asked her one more time. it still hadn't sunk in yet. he laughed, wrapping her arms around her to hold her close. his hand on the middle of her back as they kissed. "you make me the happiest dude alive." he mutters against her lips. "i love you, Kat." he pulls away, looking down at the ring that was still in the box. "crap, i forgot to put it on you." he chuckles nervously again.

Katherine: couldn't believe she was going to be a wife , she would be Katherine Minnette . it was crazy to think about , but she knew she wanted to spend forever with Dylan . she knew for awhile now . now knowing dylan felt the same just made it even better . " yes , you dork . " she teases him as she looks at him . she loosely wraps her arms around his neck as they kiss . " and you make me the happiest girl alive . " she mutters against his lips right back . " I love you too. " she smiles and then chuckles realizing she hadn't put the ring on . " You're fine . " she giggles and puts her hand out for him to put the ring on.

Dylan: pulled the ring from the box, taking her hand and carefully placing the ring on her left finger. "you know, i ran through this a couple of times this morning so i could put the ring on the right finger." he admits with a smile, looking down at the new piece of jewelry on her hand. "so i guess i can finally start calling you the future Mrs. Minnette now, huh?"

Katherine: smiled as she watched him put the ring on the finger , taking in the beauty of the ring on her finger . " oh that's what i heard . I just thought you were going crazy . " teasing him with a wink . she doesn't let go of the smile on her lips as she nods . " yes you do , fiance . " telling him with the new label on instead of boyfriend . she leans in to kiss him softly . " happy new years to us . " she mutters against his lips.

[video-game-imagines]

925+ Followers *Internally Screaming*

Holy moly, you guys!! I hit over 900 followers the other day which I know for some blogs is nothing but I’m dying over here! I have literally no idea what I did to deserve all of you but you’re here and I’m so thankful! Considering I had such a long hiatus due to personal matters I didn’t think I would make it to this point but damn! We’re here! So, being so close to 1,000 followers deserves some kind of celebration because I love you all so much! 

So, I know I’ve done it before but I’ll bring it back if you guys are interested... I’m talking about match ups and love letters! Basically what I need from you, my lovelies, is simple. I need a brief description of you physically (if you desire) and your personality. (What are you like? What are your hobbies? What do you enjoy/love? Etc.) 

For match ups: Please include 1-3 of your favorite video game series, you’re preferred pronouns, and preferred gender of your partner. 

For Love Letters: Please include the character that you would like to receive a letter from. And include your name/nickname for a personal touch. Pronoun preference isn’t necessary but you can include it if you’d like. 

This can be done anonymously or not it’s up to you. ;)   

Also, I saw a cute idea in a post, I don’t remember where I saw it. My apologies to the OP but it was an idea for short 500-1000 word drabbles based off of specific song lyrics. So, below the cut I’ve written up some song lyrics that are angsty or fluffy. Idea being that you choose 2 characters and one set of song lyrics and I’ll churn out a little drabble. 

Important: If you want a character x reader story then please state that in your request! Include ‘The Reader’ as a character and please list your preferred pronouns. Thank you! These lyrics will be first come first served (So I’m not writing multiple drabbles for the same lyrics) So, once a set of lyrics is requested I’ll cross it off the list below!

P.S. Two regular length requests are headed your way as I have a nice little 3 day vacation from work after a very intense week. :)  

1.      “Breathe, release it all. Come on now, I need your love. Come on now, never give up.” Breathe

2.      “But if we're strong enough to let it in, in, in. We’re strong enough to let it go. Let it all go, let it all go. Let it all out now.” Let It All Go

3.      “When your world is feeling heavy you can lay your armor on me. You can lay your head down on me.” Constellate (Connor RK800 w/ F! Reader)

4.      “I can't help but love you. Even though I try not to I can't help but want you. I know that I'd die without you.” War of Hearts (Desmond Miles x F! Reader)

5.      “Come inside from the cold and rest your weary soul. You belong, you are loved, you are wanted. You're not alone. I've missed you so.” Welcome Home

6.      “There is a light, in the dark, and I feel its warmth. In my hands, and my heart. Why can't I hold on?” Waves (Connor RK800 w/ F! Reader)

7.      “But, you don't know what it feels like to fall in love with you. No, you don't know what it's like when you can't go back. 'Cause I only lose my mind when I ain't got you. And how can I not win when I'm always bound to lose.” Lose My Mind

8.      “The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out. You left me in the dark. No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight. In the shadow of your heart.” Cosmic Love

9.      “You break the fall, it’s not easy to trust. I wanna love you but I’m just too cynical. Relive the words. They never heal.” Break the Fall

10.   “I just wanna be where you are. Until the life leaves my body I'll help you stand your ground. No looking back on our mistakes they can't touch us now.” Where You Are

11.   “And I hope you call me when you feel alone. When you're missing home send a siren out to sea. If not for you, then do it for me.” Elephants

12.   “Just let me know I'm not forgotten out here alone. The air is cold. The night is long. I feel like I might fade into the dawn; fade until I'm gone.” Far From Home

13.   “Cause I wished you the best of all this world could give. And I told you when you left me there's nothing to forgive. But I always thought you'd come back, tell me all you found was heartbreak and misery. It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me.” Jealous

14.   “I will always hold you close but I will learn to let you go. I promise I'll do better. I will soften every edge. I'll hold the world to its best and I'll do better. With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath.” Atlas: Light

15.   “But the feeling we once had starts to fade beneath the bad. And it’s everything… it’s everything. I’m losing you, yeah, I’m losing you. And I’m almost at the point of giving it up.” Losing You

16.   “'Cause I’m on fire like a thousand suns. I couldn’t put it out even if I wanted to. These flames tonight, look into my eyes and say you want me, too. Like I want you.” Hunger

17.   “Once in a lifetime does not happen again. So, I took a chance in a gamblers' game put my heart on the line. And maybe I'm crazy, but I'll never regret what I said to a girl I knew, before we even met.” Running Around in My Dreams (Garrus Vakarian x F! Reader)

18.   “There's something in your eyes that reminds me; the worst days of mine are behind me. My heartstrings and yours are winding down. And baby you speak, and your whisper heals my mind. You lay down a kiss where I need it the most.” Heartstrings

19.   “Hoping for a moment that I turn around and you'll be coming after me. 'Cause all that I can say is that it's obvious… It's obvious you're all I see.” Stay

20.   “Can we find something new that we'll never forget. If this is real, why don't we feel a little bit more? It's all that I'm asking. It's all that I'm asking for.” Real

21.   “When I heard that sound… When the walls came down I was thinking about you, about you. When my skin grows old when my breath runs cold I'll be thinking about you, about you.” Skin

22.   “You still get my heart racing, for you. I’ll never stop trying. I’ll never stop watching as you leave. I’ll never stop losing my breath every time I see you looking back at me.” Never Stop

23.   “I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause I like me better when… I like me better when I'm with you.” I Like Me Better

24.   “Retrace my lips. Erase your touch It's all too much for me. Blow away like smoke in air.” Six Feet Under

25.   “Fools rush in and I've been the fool before. This time I'm gonna slow it down ‘cause I think this could be more. This thing I'm looking for.” Please Don’t Say You Love Me

26.   “When my head is strong but my heart is weak. I'm full of arrogance and uncertainty. But I can’t find the words you teach my heart to speak. You make it real for me and I'm running to you baby. You are the only one who save me.” You Make it Real

27.   “Sunshine and rain make a beautiful thing. Everything you are is everything I'm not. Night and day, light and dark. Everything I need is everything you've got. All your hate and all your love.” Hate and Love

28.   “I leave it all when I feel you near. What I'm saying is I need you here. Even though love never seems to last. If you think we’ve got a chance, stay awhile.” Stay Awhile

29.   “Together can never be close enough for me to feel like I am close enough to you. You wear white and I'll wear out the words "I love you". And you're beautiful. Now that the wait is over and love has finally shown her my way. Marry me.” Marry Me

30.   “Is this the end of the moment or just a beautiful unfolding of a love that will never be or maybe be… Everything that I never thought could happen or ever come to pass? And I wonder, if maybe, maybe I could be all you ever dreamed.” Anywhere But Here

31.   “Well, I'm not sure what this is gonna be, but with my eyes closed all I see… Is the skyline, through the window, the moon above you and the streets below. Hold my breath as you're moving in, taste your lips and feel your skin. When the time comes, baby don't run, just kiss me slowly.” Kiss Me Slowly

32.   “And I do want you to know I hold you up above everyone. And I do want you to know I think you'd be good to me and I'd be so good to you. I would…” Good to You

33.   “Explosions, on the day you wake up needing somebody and you've learned… It's okay to be afraid but it will never be the same. It will never be the same.” Explosions

34.   “And from the ballroom floor we are a celebration. One good stretch before our hibernation. Our dreams assured and we are, we'll sleep well. You have stolen… You have stolen my heart.” Stolen

35.   “I could make you happy, make your dreams come true. There's nothing that I wouldn't do. Go to the ends of this Earth for you… To make you feel my love.” Make You Feel My Love

36.   “Highway run into the midnight sun. Wheels go round and round, you're on my mind. Restless hearts sleep alone tonight; sending all my love along the wire.” Faithfully

37.   “And it will take this life of regret. For my heart to learn to forget. Tomorrow will be as it always has been and I will fall to her again. For I know I have come too close.” She Is the Sunlight

38.   “I wish you were a bad man. I wish you made it easier. I wish you'd done something unforgivable. 'Cause holding onto you is all that I can do until I learn the hands around my throat are my own.” Don’t Let Me Know

39.   “Wisdom tells me to turn away. Broken once, it's all the same. My arms will grow, chest expanding. Of all the boys you could have landed. Why'd it have to be me? You...can't take my eyes off of you.” Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

40.   “If you love me, don't let go. Hold on, Hold, on to me… 'Cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady.” Unsteady

41.   “Open up your heart to me now. Let it all come pouring out there’s nothing I can’t take. If it’s love just feel it and if it’s life will see it. This is no time to be alone, alone. Yeah, I won’t let you go.” I Won’t Let You Go

42.   “Shadows, you took away the shadows. Before you, life was black and white. Though, tonight the room's gone gray. Golden, all the love you gave was golden. Gold that I would gladly pay, to show the love I meant to say.” The Love I Meant to Say

43.   “I need you right now. So, don't let me, don't let me, don't let me down. I think I'm losing my mind now. It's in my head, darling I hope that you'll be here, when I need you the most.” Don’t Let Me Down

44.   “Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you.” Can’t Help Falling In Love

45.   “Have you ever wished for an endless night? Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight. Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself, will it ever get better than tonight?” Glitter In The Air

46.   “You're in my arms and all the world is calm. The music playing on for only two. So close together, and when I'm with you… So close to feeling alive.”       So Close

47.   “So, take your time close your eyes. I will be there here with you. They may be right I may be foolish but I will wait for you.” Take Your Time

48.   “Hold my head inside your hands. I need someone who understands. I need someone, someone who hears. For you, I've waited all these years. For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come until my day, my day is done.” Til Kingdom Come

49.   “And when the tears you cry are all you can believe. Just give these loving arms a try and have a little faith in me.” Have a Little Faith in Me 

50.   “All your acting, your thin disguise. All your perfectly delivered lies. They don't fool me. You've been lonely, too long.” Dust to Dust

51.   “Off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleep. Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat. I hope it's gonna make you notice… Someone like me.” Use Somebody

52.  “ When it's too hard and too late. When I'm too tired to run away. When it cant stay the way it was. I need you ‘cause you smash the trouble I can't take. And all the pieces of the break, evaporate” Evaporate

53.  “ I don't even need to change the world. I'll make the moon shine just for your view. I'll make the starlight circle the room. And if you feel like night is falling I wanna be the one you're calling. 'Cause I believe that you could lead the way” Someone to You

54.  “Let me wash away you can find me after the flood. Let me wash away. Caught in the storm, caught in the rain. Caught in the rush that hides this pain. When you love someone you find a way to stay.” Caught In The Storm

55.  “I'll be the light in the dark if you lose your way. And if you wait for me, I'll be your voice when you don't know what to say. I'll be your shelter, I'll be your fate. I'll be forever, Wait for me.” Last Train Home

56.  “Tell your secrets to the night. You do yours and I do mine. So we won't have to keep them all inside.” Save Yourself

57.  “Give me oceans or canyons so deep they stretch for millions of miles. I’ll cross any divide, not a flicker of doubt. No danger I wouldn’t dare, to be with you.” Goodbye  

58.  “If I see you in my dreams tonight and you take my hands and tell me, "I've been waiting for you. Then I'll tell you, "Me too." If I see you in my dreams tonight.” In My Dreams

59.  “Do you feel something pulling you back in? Do you see something you wanna see again? I could be the one. I could make it up to you.” Lonely Boy

60.  “Baby I think I'm losing you, I can see it in your face. Don't leave...I need you. And I need you ‘cause lately you've been the world to me.” Don’t Leave

61.  “I've been there before hoping and trying to make things right. But now I don't know. Honey, these arms that once held you are ready to fight.” Ready to Fight

62.  “And I've always lived like this keeping a comfortable, distance. And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness. Because none of it was ever worth the risk.” The Only Exception

63.  “All my nights, taste like gold. Yeah, when I'm with you it's like everything glows. And all my days we can lay low. Yeah, when we're waking up; we're waking up slow.” Waking Up Slow

64.  “Said a lot of words along the way. I meant them all while we reigned. But shores of love get beaten by the waves and after it was done I wish I'd saved time.” Tokyo Sunrise

65.  “The world's such a crazy place. When the walls come down you'll know I'm here to stay. There's nothing I would change. Knowing that together everything that's in our way... we're better than alright.” Between the Raindrops