#yess writing

[teddybeartoji]

toji loves listening to you ramble. i really think he does. he finds your voice so soothing, so comforting, no matter whatever the fuck you're actually talking about. he's lazing on the coach at home while you're out running some errands and ranting about how stupid people can be over the phone. he laughs quietly to himself, very amused by your annoyed tone. but he loves it. he wants to hear what you've bought, where you've been, what you've eaten, where you're going next. he loves hearing you talk to the barista, never ending the call with him. he listens to you order a sweet little beverage and he's smiling, happy about the fact that you're having a good time.

he can't wait until you come home though. he already knows you're going to step inside and immediately hit him with another ramble as if you weren't just on the phone with him. he watches you kick off your shoes and remove your coat, he watches you place your bags onto the table before making your way over to him. you give him a big toothy grin and he doesn't even have time to respond because you're already falling flat on him. folding your hands on his chest, you rest your chin on top of them - staring at your boyfriend at an uncanny angle. his big arms curl around your middle and now you truly feel at home.

"arytiredfmyet?"

he rumbles a chuckle from beneath you and pinches your side, reveling in the little squeak you let out. "ya gotta speak louder than that, sweetheart."

with an eye-roll, you grumble back. "i asked whether you're tired of me yet..."

he looks so terribly comfy. and homey. and he smells so fucking good. you've never seen a boyfriend look so boyfriend. he's warm and he's looking at you with the softest eyes, despite the little smug grin that's creeping on his lips.

"ya got more for me?"

"i'm afraid so. awful, just awful things happened on the bus." you nod your head, eyes big - emphasizing your words like you almost died on your way back home and his insides feel extremely gooey. you're so close and you're warm, too. he can feel your heartbeat pounding directly above his own, the touch is just right. he knows you're tired; you've had a long day but you're still so set on talking his ears off and he loves you.

his scarred hands knead the skin of your waist. he looks like a big domesticated wolf. you want to scratch his ears. you surpress your desire to tell him that though. his lips stretch into a proper smile and your stomach fills with butterflies.

"can't wait to hear all about it, sweetheart."

[seaquestions]

recording...

[ID: a loose drawing of a robot with a security camera head, kneeling with its hands between its thighs. it's wearing a red string bikini bottom. End ID]

[ink--theory]

forbidden love type of beat

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / strawberry / 674 words / NSFW / @fromagony @star4daisy @bellaxisworld @godsofwoes

“Where are we going?” Regulus asked as they passed all their usual date spots. 

“Patience, love,” James replied with a wide smile, his hand squeezed Regulus’ thigh. 

When James stopped the car, Regulus was left speechless. They were standing in front of a beautiful meadow. In the middle of a field of flowers lay their favorite blankets, some pillows and a basket in the center. 

“James, I-” Regulus’ sentence was interrupted by James’ touch as he guided them towards the perfectly laid picnic. 

James sat down first, resting his back against a tree trunk, and opened his legs just enough for Regulus to fit between them. The curly-haired man happily contemplated his lover’s silent request for a moment. He looked around at the beautiful display and noticed a small box inside the basket: strawberries.

Regulus slowly got on his knees and crawled towards where the strawberries were, he placed the fruit between his lips and continued to move in all fours back to where a blushed James was still sitting. He got close enough to feel the heat emanating from James’ body, to notice a bulge forming under James’ jeans. 

He sat back on his heels between James' legs and took a generous bite of the strawberry. The pink juice dripped down the side of his lips, trailing slowly to his neck and staining his perfectly white shirt.

“This is so good Jamie,” Regulus said as he took a second bite. “Do you want a taste?”

James slightly nodded, his jeans clearly getting tighter around his crotch as he got harder with Regulus’ little show. Regulus held the strawberry between his hands as James took a big bite, allowing the same juice to make a mess of his lips. 

“I think you got the juicer bite, baby, no fair…” Regulus tossed aside the remaining strawberry and leaned closer to James’ face. With his tongue, he began tracing every part of juice on his boyfriend’s face. He started with the neck, worked his way up to his chin and very slowly kissed away every last drop around his lips. Gradually, his hands started working up James’ thighs, his touch evoking soft moans from James as his tongue worked through every sweet spot he knew James had. 

“Love-” 

James’ voice drowned as Regulus placed his lips next to James’ skin, “Let me show you how grateful I am.” The last words whispered as his hand reached for James’ zipper, a louder moan escaping his boyfriend. He played slowly with the waistband before revealing James’ hard, and already wet, cock. He lowered James’ jeans just enough to get full access to everything Regulus wanted to play with. 

“I think i’m still a bit hungry,” Regulus said as he bent his head to allow his tongue to get the first taste from the tip of James’ length. He mixed spit with the stickiness of the remains of the strawberry juice and began working his way through James’ cock as his mouth continued to play with the tip. 

“Fuck, Reg-” his plea muffled as Regulus’ hands reached lower and his throat deeper, with his back arched, he rested his cheek on James bare thigh, his tongue working its way through the sides of James’ length. He was hungry for James, for his moans, his pleasure, his praise. He allowed himself to pause for a second to look at his boyfriend’s pretty and desperate expression.  

Regulus' swollen lips were devouring James’ twitching body as he got closer to the climax. His hands were busy tracing every soft spot around James’ thighs devotedly. James’ whimpering always queued him to how close he was, Regulus looked up at James’ through his lashes, pleading him to finish on his mouth, to let Regulus taste him. A look so sinful that got James’ off the edge in an instant. 

Proudly, Regulus swallowed every last drop that James gave him and took his time cleaning with his tongue any mess left in James’ body. 

“Thank you for the picnic, baby,” Regulus said with a grin. 

more microfics here

[wheels-of-despair]

Evil Woman and Baby Bro vs. The Worst Summer Vacation Ever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman and Baby Bro are off to see their old man in sunny Florida! Against their will. Armed only with well-concealed snacks and metal mix tapes and unacceptable attitudes. Send help. Contains: Lots of Gareth the Grump, a sucktastic step-family, sweet gifts from Eddie, pining, forced family fun time, a wicked sunburn, a daring escape, an emotional reunion, a hospital visit, a happy ending. Words: 6.7k

Your brother doesn't ask you for much.

Leave him alone. Grab him a soda. Stop being gross. (Well, that one's usually directed at Eddie, too.) But in general, he's pretty easy to get along with. You'd never actually tell him this, lest it go to his already big head, but you like him. Genuinely. He's a good baby brother.

So when he asked (begged) you to accompany him on a family vacation (court-ordered) to Florida (oh, the humidity!) with your father and step-mother and her two brats…

"He said please," you explain to Eddie. He sits on the opposite side of your couch, arms and legs crossed, glaring at you. (Yes, the thought of bringing him with you had crossed your mind, but your old man wouldn't even pretend to consider it. Even if you tried to pass him off as one of Gareth's friends and not the guy who does unspeakable things to you whenever you're left alone for ten minutes.)

"You're leaving me, the love of your life, alone for two whole weeks. To go to a place you don't want to go to, with people you hate…" his eyes somehow narrow more, "because Gareth said please."

You heave a sigh and lean your head back to stare at the ceiling. You've been through this. Yes, you're a legal adult and don't have to abide by government-enforced visitation requirements for children of divorce anymore. Yes, you hate your father and his replacement family and the traveling and the beach. But you love your brother. You don't want him to suffer alone.

"Alright, I guess I'll allow it."

You raise your head to see that his vicious glare has been betrayed by a twinkle in his eye and a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh and crawl to him. He opens his arms and stretches out his legs, and you lie on the couch together instead of staring at each other across an empty cushion.

"It's just two weeks," you remind him, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. "And it's the last time. If all goes well, I may never have to see the old man again."

Eddie sighs and holds you a little tighter.

"You're not gonna like… fall in love with some big buff surfer dude with a nice tan and decide not to come home, are you?"

You snort. "Baby, you know I like 'em scrawny and pale."

"How dare you, I am not… wait, do you think I'm scrawny?"

"Nah," you smile, sticking your hand under his shirt and rubbing the belly that's filled out beautifully since you started feeding him actual food. "You're perfect."

"You keep that in mind when Brad and Chad try to make their move," he mumbles into your hair.

"Oh, there's two of them?" you tease. "Are they twins? This… this might change things. Hang on, let me re-evaluate. Two big buff twin surfer dudes." You draw a 2 with your finger, just above his belly button. "One pale nerd." You draw a 1, slowly dragging your finger down his happy trail. He shudders. You glance at the clock.

"Y'know…" you begin, letting your fingers trace his zipper and the growing stiffness it's barely concealing. "We've got half an hour…"

Day One

"I'm gonna miss you so fucking much."

"I'll be back before you know it," you mumble into Eddie's chest. You didn't think it would hurt this much to leave him behind. But here you are, squeezing the life out of him like it's the very last time. Two weeks without him is going to feel like an eternity.

"It's time to goooo," your mom calls from the car. She and Gareth have been waiting with the windows down while you said goodbye to Eddie (again) but it would appear that her patience is beginning to wear thin.

"Gotta go," you sigh, pulling back and looking up at his gorgeous face one last time. "Will you be here when I get back?"

Eddie recites the landing time of your return flight and assures you that he will be here, in this driveway, waiting for you to get home.

"Love you," you whisper.

"Love you more," he counters, leaning in for one last kiss.

He walks you the few steps to the car and opens the back door for you. You get in. He closes it. You turn back to face him as the car pulls away; your eyes don't leave his until you turn the corner and your driveway disappears from sight.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling empty and alone, while your mother and brother chat in the front seat. You can't believe you left him behind. Two whole Eddie-less weeks. You haven't gone more than a few days without seeing each other since you met.

You reach into your bag and pull out the mix tape he'd given you this morning. "If you come back here a pop fan, I'm going to be very upset with you," he'd teased. You stare at the paper insert he'd decorated for you, and then let your hand close around the box. You wish it were his hand instead.

The trip to the airport, the flight, and the landing were a bit of a blur. Your mother teared up as she said goodbye. The plane was cramped, and even the eardrum-blasting mix tape Eddie made you wasn't powerful enough to drown out the sound of multiple crying babies. Getting there was the easy part. The real adventure began when you and your brother got off the plane... and saw a taxi driver holding a cardboard sign with your names hastily scribbled in Sharpie.

"If you were to make two kids who didn't like you come to visit you in a place they didn't want to go to, don't you think you'd at least bother to show up and get them?" Gareth grumbles.

"Baby brother, you're looking at it all wrong. Would you rather spend this ride in a roomy cab with a total stranger, or crammed into a backseat with the evil step-siblings?" He answers with a smirk.

The cab ride took almost an hour, and passed in silence. After shooting each other odd looks meaning things like "are we going to get murdered?" or "at least there's no small talk" you stared out the windows and took in the scenery. Florida is not nearly as neon as Miami Vice would have you believe. You passed strip malls and houses and palm trees. Very exciting.

The driver pulls up to the curb in front of a rental house near the beach and exits the cab without turning off the engine. You take this as your cue to get out. He moves your bags from the trunk to the sidewalk while the pair of you stretch, then gets back into the car and drives away without a word.

"Guess he got paid up front," you muse, watching his taillights grow smaller.

"Great conversationalist, feel like we should've tipped him for that," Gareth grins.

"There they aaaare!" your step-monster squeals from the porch, making you both wince. "Come in, we've got so many fun things planned!"

"Kill me," Gareth grumbles under his breath.

The reunion goes about as expected. You're escorted into the kitchen for a lovely feast of weird organic hippie food that makes both of you queasy. (You've both stowed away plenty of snacks in your luggage.) You're grilled on each school subject and your nonexistent extracurriculars, and then forced to sit through a recap of everything your angelic step-siblings have accomplished since you'd seen them last. Honor roll! Perfect attendance! Soccer trophy! Scout badges!

You pick at your lunch and endure the bottomless bragging until you're escorted to your rooms.

"Girls are in here, and the boys are down the hall!" the step-monster chirps.

You both freeze.

"We always bunk together," you protest.

"You're not hiding out under headphones and listening to your Satanic music the whole time like you did over Christmas," your father chimes in. "This vacation is about family bonding."

"We're as bonded as we're gonna get," Gareth argues, crossing his arms boldly in defiance. You're letting him pick the movie and the snacks on your first movie night back home.

"If you're going to be difficult, I could just send you home."

"Is that an option?" you ask.

"Because we choose that," Gareth adds.

"Can't we all please just--" the step-monster begins.

"IN!" the old man roars.

You trade smirks and part ways.

You unpack your suitcase in the pink room with the two twin beds and listen to the step-sister (what is she, 9? 10?) yap excitedly about whatever random thoughts cross her mind until dinner. Which sucks even more than lunch did. After dinner, the whole family gets to clean up together and play a thrilling game of Monopoly! (Barf.)

You make the old man proud by volunteering to be the banker. It shows initiative! Perhaps a career in finance is in your future! Little did he know, it was so you could slip Gareth extra play money under the table. He owns almost the whole board by the end. The little ones are quite frustrated by all the rent they have to pay.

Tragically, Garethopoly is called before the broke little angels give in to the tantrums that had been brewing all night. At 8:30 (wow), you're instructed to put the game away and get ready for bed.

You put on pajamas chosen specifically for this occasion; boys' boxers and a stained Hellfire Club shirt. Your cellmate, looking like a proper princess in her frilly nightgown, eyes you warily. Good. You sit on your stupid pink bed, turn on the seashell lamp, and pull out one of the six paperbacks you brought along.

Your eyes won't focus on the words, but you pretend to read in hopes of being left alone. There are so many things you'd rather be doing, and places you'd rather be. You should be arguing over shitty horror movies at Family Video with Eddie right now. And getting a pizza.

God, it's only been one day of hippie food, and you're already fantasizing about pizza.

The step-sister shrieks when Gareth enters the pink nightmare of a room.

"No boys allowed!"

"Chill, kid, I'm just making a delivery," he rolls his eyes.

"My name is Ashley, and this is the girls' room!"

The attitude behind her declaration makes it the funniest thing you've heard all day. You disguise your laugh as a cough. Gareth ignores her and tosses a cassette to you. You pick it up curiously. When you notice Eddie's handwriting, your heart soars.

"Eddie told me to give that to you before bed," he sighs, then furrows his brow and launches into his best Eddie impression: "'Not at the airport, not when you get there. Right before bed. You hear me, little drummer boy?' Kay. I did it. Be sure to tell him that your tape was delivered at the appropriate time."

"Will do," you laugh. "Thank you."

"Yup," he says, cutting his eyes at the step-sister who's still glaring at him with her covers pulled up to her neck. For modesty. He rolls his eyes again and leaves.

"What's that?" she asks after he's out of sight.

"A tape."

"What's on it?"

"Probably a mix," you shrug.

"What kind of mix?"

You're spared further questioning by the step-monster coming in to tuck her little angel in. How sweet. You pop your headphones on and pretend to listen until the lights are out and the kid quiets down.

And then you press play.

"Gareth, if you're listening to this, I promise… you will regret it," Eddie rumbles, low and threatening. You've never been so happy to hear someone's voice in your life. That's your Eddie. It's like he's right here with you. You'd rather be there with him, but you'll take what you can get. "I'm warning you, man. This tape contains shit you absolutely cannot unhear. You will be scarred for life. This is your last chance. Rewind the tape, and pass it on like you were instructed to. Right before bed. Thank you for your cooperation."

You bring your hand to cover your mouth so laughter won't escape. He waits a beat, then changes his tone.

"Hey, baby," he says smoothly. Tears prickle at your eyes. "If you're missing me half as much as I'm missing you, you're probably hurtin' pretty bad. But it's okay. I'm here." Tears stream down your face and drip on your pillow. "Here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna pause the tape and think of an answer. And then you're gonna hit play again, and you're gonna laugh, because I've predicted exactly what you're going to say. You ready?" You nod. "You just nodded, didn't you?" You smile and nod again. "See, I know you better than you know yourself. Now… how was your day?"

You press pause. Shitty. The plane was crowded and the ride was bumpy. It's hot and muggy, and you're rooming with a kid you don't like, and you don't want to be here. You want to be there with him, cuddled up on his couch or in your basement or in the van. You want to go home. You press play.

"Wow, that sucks. Screw that Florida weather, and your dumb-ass step-family." You smile. "It's gonna take so much work to counteract this horrible vacation. We're gonna have to hole up in the trailer and eat nothing but junk food for a solid week to undo this. You in?"

Absolutely.

"Knew you would be. What do you think I'm doing right now?"

You press pause and think. Watching TV and/or jerking off. Play.

"Don't say jerking off, you pervert."

He didn't say he wasn't, he just said not to say it. He's jerking off.

"I am not!" He does that goofy little chuckle he does, and you wish you were close enough to feel it vibrate through you. "Okay, I might be. I'm lonely, dammit." You hear a paper shuffle. "As you might have guessed, I've tried to script these out and time it so I've got enough to keep you Eddie-fied until you get home. So it's not much, but I'm hoping it's enough to remind you that I'm here and I miss you and I'm NOT JERKING OFF while I wait for you to come home. Well, not the whole time, anyway. That's about it for tonight, but uh… I'm gonna end every night with a song. To lull you to sleep. Because that's the kind of music we're into, obviously."

You close your eyes and hug your walkman to your chest, wishing it were him instead.

"This first one needs no introduction, so!" He clears his throat and starts singing… to the tune of Black Sabbath's "Evil Woman". "I miss that look of evil in your eyes, that thing about not jerking off was a lie, sorrow will be me until you're here, not sure what Ozzy's saying there… Evil Woman, please come play your games with me!"

Eddie stops singing and starts laughing. "Okay, that's it, you've been sung to sleep, now please do wicked and kinky to things to me in our dreams." He laughs again. "Turn the tape off after the 'love you', because you're not allowed to listen to tomorrow's until tomorrow. Kay? Kay. Good night, my Evil Woman. I hope your tomorrow sucks less than today. I love you. Press stop. Now. Now! Now? Now!"

You wait a beat and press stop, leaving the headphones on. What if you're not ready to say goodbye? Even for 24 hours?

Day Two

"Hey, baby." You press pause and let the feeling of calmness wash over you. You've been looking forward to hearing his voice all day. Play. "How was day two? You didn't forget about me already, did you? Is Gareth keeping those pretty surfer boys away from you like I asked? Tell me everything."

Pause. Today sucked. At least most of the first day was spent traveling with someone you like. Why did the old man even want you here if he was just going to be a dick to you both the whole time? Those brats were up your ass every second, asking too many questions and watching your every move with their beady little eyes. They went through your bags when you and Gareth hid out on the balcony for a moment of fucking peace and turned your contraband in to the authorities. All your food. Even your friggin' aspirin. You'd both received a long-ass lecture on chemicals and toxins and personal responsibility and how unhealthy habits shorten your lifespan. Which didn't sound too bad right fucking now. You were hungry. You couldn't sleep. Those fuckers dragged you out of bed at 6am, and for what? "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a family healthy, wealthy, and wise!" Psychos. Absolute psychos.

Play. "Wow, baby. That fucking sucks. Want me to come get you? 'Cause I'll do it. I'll hop in this van and speed my ass down to… where are you again? Doesn't matter, I'll find you."

Your chest aches.

"Ready to be lulled to sleep by the comforting voice of your handsome lover?" Always. "Alright, here goes." He clears his throat. "Your body's empty now as I hold you… wait, that's a pillow. Now you're gone, I miss you, but I told you, I remember bath times and morning wood, you best come back to me, without you I'm no good. I love you to death! I love you to death!"

Megadeth's "Loved to Deth," only better. Eddie laughs to himself when he finishes. "G'night, babe. Hope tomorrow's a better one. Love you."

Stop. You've never felt more lonely in your life. Taking off your headphones and glancing over to confirm that the step-brat is asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can. You need air.

You walk down the hallway toward the balcony, and aren't too surprised to find Gareth already there, on the wicker sofa staring out at the ocean. You sit next to him.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles.

"Me too," you whisper.

"How are we supposed to survive 12 more days of this?"

"By not letting them get to us. Just remember… we get to go home soon, and be happy, with people we like. These assholes will continue to be assholes, wherever they are."

Gareth heaves a sigh. You'd hug him if you didn't think he'd pretend to gag.

"I don't wanna go back in there. That kid's fucking creepy. I woke up this morning and he was just laying there, staring at me."

"Oh my god, the girl was doing that too!" you whisper in outrage. "What is wrong with them?!"

"Fuckin' Children of the Corn," he grumbles. You snort.

"Well… we probably won't get away with it for more than one night, but we could stay out here until the warden drags us back inside," you suggest.

"Fine by me," Gareth groans, scooting down on the cushion and putting his feet on the coffee table. "Is this improper?" he asks in a bad British accent.

"Nah, we were raised in a barn, it's fine," you grin, moving to do the same. You knew you'd both catch hell for not sleeping in your assigned cells in the morning, but for tonight, you'd take fresh air and Gareth over a creepy kid and a hard twin bed.

Day Three

"Hey, baby. Congrats on surviving three days without me! Your prize is coming home ASAP for some sweet lovin'." Eddie laughs at himself. "How was your day?"

Pause. Fucking sucked. You woke up to yelling about not being in your beds for your 6am wakeup call. You ate a bland breakfast and were dragged to the beach for a family photo op. Staged photos of all the loving siblings bonding. Building a sand castle… that your father actually built, because it needed to be impressive and photo-worthy. You all had to gather around it and smile and pretend to be working on it while the step-monster snapped away. Eating healthy snacks on an ironed picnic blanket. Playing in the ocean… where the playful splashes from the step-brats got so much saltwater in your face, your eyes were too red for more photos. You looked like drug addicts! It was disgraceful! Family fun time would have to continue tomorrow.

After that, you huddled under an umbrella until time to go inside. You and Gareth had applied sunscreen multiple times throughout the day, but still got a bit of a burn. This trip is un-fucking-bearable. You'd give anything to be in your dark basement with Eddie, far away from these douchebags and the burning Florida sun. Play.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs. "I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how much these people sucked. No wonder you'd rather be at home with me." You'd do anything to trade this hell for sixty seconds of being home with your Eddie. "Ready for your song?" You nod. "People gonna make ya wonder if you're right, keep ya wide awake and worried late at night. Why don't ya tell 'em to beat it? Why don't ya tell 'em to eat it? Just a bunch of clowns, don't let 'em grind ya down!"

Motorhead's "Grind You Down."

"I know I didn't change anything in this one, but I don't think I needed to. I hope this song gets stuck in your head for the rest of the trip. Keep it playing. Don't let 'em grind ya down. That's it for tonight, babe. Hope tomorrow's better. Love ya."

Stop. You stare at the ceiling and grasp a handful of blanket, wishing it were Eddie's hand. You imagine hearing the roar of his van in the street and sneaking out and running away from here until you eventually nod off.

Day Four

"Hey, baby. How was day four?"

Pause. You couldn't find your sunscreen this morning. You'd torn the house apart, desperate for that high SPF you'd bought especially for this trip, and the step-brats finally found the bottle on the porch. Maybe you dropped it in your hurry to get back inside yesterday, you thought. You slathered it on as fast as you could, during a lecture about holding everyone up, and returned to the beach.

They kept you so busy staging bullshit for the camera, you didn't notice the problem until it was too late.

It was not your sunscreen. The step-brats had dumped your sunscreen out and refilled the bottle with lotion for a fun prank. The giggly little bastards finally confessed after your third re-application of the day. You and your brother were already burnt to a fucking crisp. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. The demon children were given a finger-wag and forced to skip dessert. (Cantaloupe, what a cruel blow.) You and Gareth were told to stop being so dramatic about a little sunburn. It was a harmless prank, they said. This is what siblings do, they said. Nevermind the chills and the headache and the unbearable fucking pain. It's just a harmless prank! Play.

"Those bastards. Do you want me to come down there and fight them? 'Cause I will. You know I will." Yes, please.

"Okay, this one's extremely rewritten to make up for yesterday's. Sorry-slash-you're welcome. Here we go: "Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun."" Tears prick at your eyes. He's rewritten Dio's "Holy Diver" for you. "Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely." He laughs, but the tears spill down your burning cheeks. "Not bad, right? Watch your back, Weird Al. Weirder Ed's coming for you. Well, that's it for tonight… talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you."

You rewind and replay the song. It's one of his absolute favorites. The fact that he rewrote a perfect song just for you makes you melt. Or maybe that's just your insides reacting to your outsides being fried.

"Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun. Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely."

Gotta get away. The next line would be "gotta get away".

You lie there on your hot, scratchy sheets and think about escaping in order to get your mind off of the pain. What if you… and then you… could you actually pull this off?

When you're sure everyone's asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can and creep down the hallway to the boys' room. Gareth's not in his bed. He's not on the balcony. You stalk quietly through the house, no idea where he might be in this strange place.

He's standing in front of the fridge with the door open.

"You okay?" you whisper.

He jumps back and gasps. The bottles in the door rattle. He closes it softly, but you both look in the direction of the bedrooms and listen closely for stirring. You relax when you hear nothing.

"Scare the shit out of me, why don't you," he grumbles, leaning against the cool metal of the fridge. "No. Not okay. I'm hungry. I hurt. Everything fucking sucks. I wanna go home."

Your brother's not much of a crier these days, but his eyes look suspiciously shiny in the moonlight shining through the windows. It fills you with rage.

"Let's go."

"What?" he asks.

"Let's fucking go."

You stare at each other for a moment.

"You're serious?"

"Dead fucking serious. We don't want to be here. That dickhead only wanted us here for a photo op, so he can show everyone what a great parent he is. They're not just gonna let us sit here for the rest of the trip. Wherever they go, they're gonna drag us along too. Burns and all. So let's fucking go."

"Let's fucking go," Gareth echoes, pushing off the fridge.

"Pack your shit, I'll meet you back here in ten," you say quietly.

"More like three," Gareth smirks. "I never unpacked my shit to begin with."

You grin at each other, even though it hurts your fried faces, and take off toward your bedrooms.

You're packed in no time. You make a quick stop in your dad's bedroom, holding your breath while you extract a credit card and a few bills from his wallet. He snores away, rigid and on his back like he learned how to sleep from a textbook on how to mimic a human. The step-monster sleeps like a corpse, hands clasped on her stomach and mask covering her eyes. They're not even touching. You and Eddie could never.

You slip out of the room and find Gareth waiting for you in the kitchen.

"Ready?"

"Born ready."

You step out the front door and let it close with a satisfying click. Adios, bitchachos.

"Now what?" he asks.

You stare at the dark, empty street.

"Guess we walk," you grin.

"All the way back to Indiana?"

"To a bus stop or a cab that will take us to an airport, smartass." If you weren't both in pain already, you'd smack him. He smirks, and you start walking.

The further away from those people you get, the better you feel. When you get to the highway, a cab pulls over. You didn't even hail it. It's like it was meant to be. A woman in her fifties, named Linda, takes you to the nearest airport… which is fifteen minutes away from the rental house.

"Why did he have us hauled halfway across Florida in a cab when we got here, if there was an airport right here?" Gareth asks when it comes into view.

"This one's more expensive," Linda supplies. "I can take you to that one, if you'd prefer? Might save you a few bucks."

"That's okay," you smile. "We need to get home as soon as possible. Our father can spare it."

You thank her for the ride and give her a hefty tip that makes her face light up.

"You kids have a safe trip! And put some aloe on that sunburn!" she calls out her window as you enter the airport.

You approach the desk and talk to a pretty blonde about the first flight to the Midwest. You slide the credit card across the counter and secure two tickets to Chicago on a plane that leaves in an hour.

Day Five

"Did we actually pull this off?" Gareth mumbles, gazing lovingly at the ticket in his hand.

"Hope so," you mumble, taking it from him and putting it in your pocket for safekeeping. Little brothers, no matter their age, are not to be trusted. "Let's find the gate, then find something to eat."

"Hell yeah."

You walk for a while, and stop when the gate comes into view. You don't need to walk all the way down there just yet.

"That's us," you mumble, gesturing toward the gate in the distance. "By the time we eat, it'll probably be time to board. Let's roll."

You look to Gareth, but he's not looking at you. He's looking at the McDonald's sign. The golden arches shine like a light at the end of a miserable tunnel leading out of organic hell.

"Good choice, Gareth the Great," you smile. "Know what you want?"

"Everything," he practically drools.

You don't quite order everything, but the two of you devour a tray full of fast food - at airport prices, on the old man - like you've been starving for days. Which you have.

"Fifteen minutes until boarding begins," you note, sucking down the last of your drink and looking at your watch. "Let's hit the bathroom and call Mom."

You dump your trash and find the bathroom. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and recoil. The burn looks so much worse under these fluorescent lights. No wonder you both scored free refills. You're going to peel for the rest of your life. If you ever see those brats again, it's ON.

You meet Gareth at the pay phones and drop a few coins in. But your mom's line is busy. You try again a minute later. Still busy. The clock is ticking. You call Eddie instead.

"Hawkins Morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em," he says boredly.

"Hi, baby," you breathe, so relieved to hear him live.

"Well this is unexpected," he laughs. "Tapes not doing it for you anymore? Needed some of the real thing?"

You smile, but Gareth's impatient face reminds you why you're making the call.

"We're on the run, babe, and we need your help."

"The Munson Underground is always at your service, m'lady."

"I tried calling Mom, but the phone was busy. Can you tell her that we're on the 1:05 out of Tampa, and we should be in Chicago at… wait, does that account for the time difference?"

"You're seriously making a break for it?"

"Yeah," you whisper, the reality of what you're doing starting to sink in. "We couldn't take it anymore. It was awful, Eddie."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and Gareth takes the phone before you can start crying on it.

"She'll be alright once she gets home. Which should be sometime in the next few hours. Will you hunt down our mother and tell her to pick us up?" He tells Eddie to get a pen, then relays the details of the ticket. "Kay. Here's your wife." He hands the phone back to you.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" he says, voice calm and soothing.

"Okay," your voice cracks. "Love you."

"Love you more," he says. "Gotta go, I'm gonna go tell your mom in person since you can't get through. See you in a few hours!"

You hang up the phone and take a shaky breath.

"Ready?" Gareth asks.

"In a minute," you mumble, checking your watch again. You approach the information desk and ask for an envelope. You put your father's name on it, put his credit card and change from the cab ride and dinner in it, and seal it. The woman at the counter assures you that it will be held in the office for your father. You'll call and tell him where to get it when you're safely back home, where you belong. (Or maybe send him a nice postcard.)

You board the plane wordlessly, sinking into your seats with a renewed sense of urgency. You're not out of the woods until you're in the air. You watch the people filing on, wondering if your old man would be smart enough to figure out where you went. Or if he cared enough to show up and drag you off.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the plane takes off, and so does Gareth. You're in the sky. You're on the way home. Everything is going to be okay.

"We're free," you mouth.

"Fuck yeah," he mouths back.

You grin at each other and reach for your walkmans. Should you listen to the rest of Eddie's goodnight songs, or save those? You'll save them. One a night, those are the rules. You pop in the mix tape he made you and close your eyes.

You don't open them again until you land. Your head is pounding. Your mouth is dry. The chills are getting worse. Your skin feels like it's going to crack if you move too much. Gareth feels it too, wincing and hissing as he gets out of his seat.

You gather your things and exit the plane with the rest. The blast of cold air conditioning feels nice on your hot skin as you step into the massive airport.

"Look," Gareth nudges you. You both regret it instantly, but you look in the direction he gestures to see your mom and your Eddie waiting for you. You quicken your pace.

"Holy shit," they say in unison as you approach.

You walk into Eddie, and his arms wrap around you. He's so warm, your body tells you to get away from him. Heat bad! Cold good! But you endure the discomfort, holding him tight and crying into his chest. You made it. You're home.

"Let me look at you," your mom orders, peeling you away from Eddie. "What the hell happened? Did you forget your sunscreen?"

Tears leak down your face, stinging as they go.

"Those little assholes dumped our sunscreen and replaced it with lotion," Gareth growls. "It's just a harmless prank, you're overreacting," he mocks in his best Dad Voice.

"Like hell," your mom seethes. "You're going to the ER." Gareth whines, but you expect this will be a nice documented event to bring up in court if the old man still insists on visitation after this debacle. You both agree to drink a full bottle of overpriced airport water in the car, in exchange for going to the hospital in Hawkins rather than the city. You want to go home, dammit.

Your luggage is collected, and you head out to the car. You and Eddie sit in the back, and you want desperately to lay your head on his shoulder and sleep the whole way home. But it's too hot. Your face hurts too bad. You settle on holding his hand loosely; your palm didn't get burned, at least. He uncaps your bottle every few minutes and reminds you to take a drink.

The visit to Hawkins Memorial Hospital doesn't take long. The nurse makes you both chug another bottle of water while you wait, and the doctor quickly diagnoses you with sun poisoning. You are sentenced to several weeks of aloe, rest, and staying indoors. No one in your party has any objections.

When you finally get home, Eddie helps you get your clothes off while your mom helps your brother. It's ten times harder and more painful than usual. He coats you with aloe and puts you to bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Your sheets scratch. Your skin burns. You can't stop crying.

"What's the matter?" he asks, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"It's stupid," you cry.

"Tell me anyway."

"All I want is for you to hold me but you're too hot and I'm a lobster and I'm going to crack and peel and die."

Eddie snorts, and you cry harder. He lies down in your bed, on the edge so he's not touching you. All you've thought about for days is in your grasp, and you can't touch him. It's cruel and unusual and it's not fair.

"I'm right here. The burn will fade in a week or two. Then we can get back to being all over each other and grossing everyone out, and all will be right with the world."

You let out a strange sob-laugh sound, and it makes him smile. A chill causes your whole body to shiver.

"How are we doing in here?" your mom asks from the doorway.

"Fine," you lie.

"She's crying and shivering," Eddie tells her.

"Traitor," you mumble.

"I brought painkillers and a glass of water," your mom says. Eddie sits up to receive her gifts. "Don't let her sleep until she drains that."

"Yes, ma'am."

You sit up long enough to take your pills and drink your water, then fall asleep next to the Eddie you can't touch.

You wake to the unmistakable sound of your mother giving her ex-husband a piece of her mind. Eddie's eyes are as round as saucers while you listen together; you've never heard her this mad before. There are curses, there are threats, and finally, the sound of a phone being slammed back onto the base. The house is plunged back into a heavy silence. You stare at each other for a moment, not daring to make a sound.

"If she ever yells at me like that, I'm gonna be crying and apologizing and trying to make it up to her for the rest of my life," he whispers.

"I've never heard her yell at anyone but him like that," you smile. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Thank fuck," he breathes.

"You guys awake?"

You and Eddie both jump at her soft voice in the doorway.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckles. "You're due for another pill and about a gallon of water. Would you like some pancakes with it? You slept through breakfast. And lunch."

"Sure," you answer, stretching and immediately regretting it.

"A fresh coat of aloe will make it easier to move," she advises.

"On it," Eddie says, rolling out of bed to get it.

"I'm gonna go see if Gareth managed to sleep through that, then I can fill my little fugitives in on all the trouble they've caused." She laughs to herself and proceeds down the hallway.

She recapped the phone call over pancakes. Your father got his credit card back… and a bill so massive, Gareth's likely off the hook for any remaining court-ordered visits. The old man ranted about you two ruining his family vacation, and hurting the step-monster's feelings, and ignoring the step-demons, and being surly and secretive the whole time, and stealing from him, and of course the cost of the plane tickets… but somehow, the icing on the cake was that you'd left the McDonald's receipt in the envelope with his change. "How could anyone spend that much money on garbage masquerading as food?!" You all had a good laugh over that one, then went back to bed. Doctor's orders.

For the next two weeks, you happily holed up in your dark basement with your brother and your boyfriend and sometimes your friends, watching movies and eating junk and drinking all the water you could hold. You still insisted on listening to your Eddie Tape every night, but with him next to you, your answers to the "how was your day" questions were much happier. After about a week, you declared yourself cleared for cuddling, and started to make up for lost time.

Gareth was so happy to be home, he didn't even complain.

Much.

[starmocha]

Wait, are we in cahoots with Mephisto? 😀

[sunshinebokuto]

Akaashi thinking of bokuto as a star in bokuaka fics 🤝 kuroo thinking of bokuto as sunshine incarnate in bokuroo fics

[gay-poet-gabriel]

Adding on to several hcs I’ve seen recently lol

So yk how Tim and dally fight for funsies? I think worst case scenario, dally accidentally slips into little space and Tim goes completely nonverbal and they both are freaking out internally while they fight and someone else has to intervene

AHHH YES SOMEONE PLEASEE WHOEVER YOU ARE WRITE THIS AA

[crimeronan]

did i ever tell you guys that ages ago when my mom was visiting me, we got on the subject of tv shows and books and podcasts we were really into at the moment -- after about three years of not talking regularly enough to know these things -- and out of nowhere, she was like, "oh, have you ever heard of the magnus archives??"

[anonbinaryweirdo]

Write y/n x childe! I want to eat him vore style. Y/Nx Childe, Vore!

-🎭

MUTUALS LOOK AWAY FROM THIS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Childe's eyes are blown with nothing but love for you as he looks up at you, from where he's kneeled on the ground. he swallows, blue eyes following your every movement.

you cup his face, looking at him with eyes that he never fails to get lost in. "ajax.." you whisper, "are you sure you're okay with this?"

he lets out a shaky, almost inaudible breath. he was nervous. but he trusted you. "yes," he breathes. "I'm ready."

you nod slowly, and Childe stands. he closes his eyes with a smile as you open your mouth. he carefully climbs inside, not wanting to cause any damage to your throat, or you, in general.

you gag a little once his arm reaches down, but that's okay. this was for the best.

at least, you hoped so.

you gulp as you feel him climbing down your throat. he was in your rib cage, now. it felt so warm, so... so right.

he turned his head, and saw the beating of your heart. he didn't want to touch it, but his hand reached forward anyway, and the tips of his gloved fingers caressed each vein and lump. it was beautiful. and all his.

he snapped out of his trance once he felt your stomach gurgle, and started descending further down in your body. then, he was met with the pit of his stomach. it was even warmer...

you sat there, with a belly full, and in content. you felt something poking your stomach from the inside, and you peaked open an eye, seeing a small bulge in your tummy. it's where Childe's head lay.

"are you alright?" you ask, which sends vibrations down to where he rested. he pat your stomach twice, and you smiled upon seeing the bulges. "good.."

"I'll keep you safe in here," you swore, rubbing your swollen stomach. "I promise."

and you get a bulge in response, as he pressed his hand against your stomach. you smile, placing your hand on top of his.

"I know.."

IM FUCKINF CRYING HOLY SHIT

[popcornkwantum]

Swiftli week, day 2

A demon's personal cooler

Summary:

"It's 11:30"

“Why so late?” Taylor asks.

Lincoln shifts his hand to have his palm flat on Taylor’s forehead and answers, “Because you were burning up earlier this morning and clearly still are.”

“You could still have tried,” Taylor crankly mumbles back. He knows it’s a little unfair to Lincoln, but he can’t bring himself to be thankful for sleeping in and having his morning plans thrown out the window.

“I did,” Lincoln chuckles, luckily not taking the offense, “You only angrily growled at me when I came to wake you up at nine.”

Yea that sounds about right actually.

--------

OR:

Taylor is sick with a demon cold and Lincoln is there to take care of him

☆☆☆

And have some additional doodles *.✧

[itaipava]

the moment they say fuck it headcanons were sooooo good im blushing and kicking my feet ‼️

if you still want requests you should do the moment their friend/family teases them about being in love with reader and that is what makes them realize they actually are in love ykkkk that friends to lovers shitttt

ik you want nsfw requests too so you should do the “fuck it” moments again but nswf!!!

bestie ‼️‼️ i’m so so glad to know you liked because i absolutely loveddd writing this, you have no idea!! and i was actually thinking about writing about it again but nsfw, and you gave me the push i needed to actually write it lmao so thank you love you

[citrine-elephant]

trying to play minecraft and the blonde man stalks behind me herobrine style

[red-ruth]

Phillip Island Sprint

//Info//

13 laps

Dry Race /Flag2Flag

Pole: Jorge Martin

Winner: Jorge Martin

Fastest Lap: Jorge Martin (1:27.831 on Lap 7)

Dnfs: 7

Race Podium:

1 Jorge Martin (+12 pts)

+1.520s

2 Marc Marquez (+9 pts)

+2.848s

3 Enea Bastianini (+7 pts)

Championship Standings Post Race:

1 Jorge Martin (404 pts)

+16

2 Pecco Bagnaia (388 pts)

+68

3 Marc Marquez (320 pts)

+0

4 Enea Bastianini (320 pts)

Tyres:

Everyone on Hard Front except for Rins and Mir

Everyone on Soft Rear except for Savadori, Bezzechi and Zarco

Given the fact that the top 11 all have hard front/soft rear tyres, it’s fair to say that was the best call for the race

Summary and Report below Read More

//Summary//

So Marc and Jorge both get decent starts from P2 and P1 respectively. However Jorge brakes hard to disengage the ride height device, and Marc (according to his post race interview) had to pick up the bike to avoid contact. Marc goes wide and loses a lot of places, by turn 2 he’s in P8.

Pecco gets a good start too, originally up to second after Marc goes wide, but goes wide a little himself, letting Bez through turn 1 and then Maverick through turn 2.

Maverick gets a bad start as per but is saved by Pecco and Marc going wide turn 1.

Jorge is leading with Bez in second.

By lap 2 Jorge has built to 0.800s gap.

Pecco (p3) held up by Bez who does some pretty spectacular defending.

Marc, at this point, is steadily regaining places. Multiple places within a single lap, and if you discount Jorge (who has clear track in front of him), he’s considerably faster than the rest of the field, and by lap 3 has got to p4.

Track limit warning Jorge (amounts to nothing unfortunately)

Pecco finally gets past Bez by lap 4 and into p2.

Marc, now chasing Bez, catches him so quickly (seriously his pace was really impressive), but is held up by Bez for half a lap or so, enabling Enea to catch the both of them up.

Marc does a really great pass on Bez on lap 5 into p3. Different line final corner by turning a little tighter into the straight, passes him in the acceleration. His line would have meant that Bez probably had more speed on the straight, however Marc nails the braking into turn 1 and makes the move stick.

Johan Zarco and A.Marquez both crash and retire, wasn’t shown on broadcast so I don’t know what happened. Far as I know they’re okay.

Marc closes the gap to Pecco and is held up for a few laps but Pecco gets the braking wrong and Marc puts it down the inside of him at turn 4 on lap 10, putting him P2.

Enea gets through on Pecco soon after so Pecco went from 2nd to 4th in only a few corners.

The gap between Marc and Jorge is at 3.0 seconds by the start of lap 11

Jack Miller crashes and retires (not shown in broadcast but found out post race it was from a seagull)

Marc pulls off immediately 0.9 seconds from Enea in p3 but Jorge is booking it

Pedro crashes and retires it was a high side while trying to save rear.

Marc has slightly better pace but Jorge keeps it within 3-2.5 seconds

Bez and Maverick have a massive massive crash lap 11. They were fighting for p5. Bez was defending really well (great defending from him all race). Maverick has a great run on him on the straight, passes him, however in the braking Bez’s front tyre collides with Mavericks rear and Bez essentially high sides directly into the concrete. They both slide into the gravel.

Very fast crash, over 200mph/320kmh. The bikes are totalled. Both Bez and Maverick went to the medical center following this, but they were conscious and moving. As what I’m guessing is a precaution, Bez was taken off on a stretcher.

Binder crashes in a slide and retires.

Because of the crash, there’s a yellow flag sector 1 which slightly slowed the pace of Jorge and Marc. However once that was cleared, he still wasn’t really catching him. Last lap, Marc is 2 seconds behind and by the checkered flag that was down to 1.5 seconds.

Diggi is given an 8 second penalty post race for tyre pressure which takes him from p5 to p9.

//Report//

So another Marc comeback. Woah. I understand what happened turn 1, a lot of other riders messed up that first turn. I half believe him with what he was saying about avoiding contact with Jorge, however in the same breath he was also calling it a mistake on his behalf. So to me I think it was a combination of a mistake he won’t outwardly admit to and Jorge’s braking to disengage the ride height device (send it to superhell MotoGP please).

Nevertheless, it cost him the race. Typical standard Marc Marquez comeback. Picking through the field immediately, even faster than I think he normally does which is fair given his confidence around this circuit and his pace all weekend. Honestly there was nothing else he could have done. He caught riders quickly, he passed them quickly at the first chance he got.

Jorge had insane pace. If he had got hold up by someone else even the first quarter of the race, entirely different outcome. But the gap he built from the start gave him such an advantage, and his sole competitor scrapping in traffic and using up his tyres meant that he basically sailed to victory. Strong performance from Jorge.

I hate to say it, I really thought Pecco was making the comeback he needed in the championship over these flyaways. Especially so since Motegi, and I know the gap hasn’t stretched by much, (from 10 points to 16), and Jorge has has a larger gap before, but this is the closest I’ve gotten to seeing Jorge actually believing he’ll win this in Valencia.

Pecco has been nowhere, frankly. He’s a rider who relies a lot on data, so this weekend being in such mixed conditions with not a lot of track time has put him on a serious back foot. His defending today really wasn’t up to standard, especially defending p2 and p3 from Marc and Enea, crucial positions for the championship fight. I know the both of them are traumatised from their dnfs under pressure, but I feel like they’ve now let the pressure get to them so much they’ve forgotten they’re in a championship fight. It’s like the both of them only truly believe in themselves once they’re out in front. Fortunately for us they both equally dominate within a weekend (Pecco in Motegi, and Jorge today for example) so technically there is still a championship fight. Unfortunately for us, you wouldn’t think it from watching the races, because they get five laps in, accept their position and are mentally already thinking about the next race instead of the one they’re bloody in. Today this cost Pecco even more than usual because he had Marc behind him, who has had an edge this weekend he doesn’t typically have. And Enea who was also looking fairly solid himself.

Hopefully, because Ducati will now have lots of data from the sprint, Pecco should do better tomorrow, but frankly who knows.

I think tomorrow, the winner will depend on whoever gets out front first and can build that gap. But honestly, even if the exact same thing happens to Marc tomorrow and he has to recover positions, he had the pace and he WAS faster than Jorge. He just didn’t have enough of an advantage on him to recover the ground within the laps he had. But we have a longer race tomorrow. I’ll expect some proper scrapping from those two :)

Quick mention on the incident between Maverick and Bez. Nasty nasty nasty crash. Maverick has been declared fit. Bez has no fractures but is been sent to Melbourne for a full check up. It’s still under investigation but I don’t know if there’s anyone at fault. I’ve now rewatched it a lot and from the helicopter footage you can see Bez hit the front break so hard (to avoid the contact) that his rear tyre actually lifts off the ground. But once it regrips there’s nothing he could do to correct himself in time and he’s sent flying over the back of Mavericks bike. Luckily, Maverick only got a slide but god Bez hit the ground hard. Seriously seriously hoping he’s okay, but yeah, in my opinion, nothing to be done about that. We’ll see what the stewards have to say.

[whumpberry-cookie]

Leader whump scene

The leader works themselves out to the point of exhaustion to figure out Whumper's/Villain's plans.

It's late at night. Caretaker knocks and comes in to Leader's office. Tries to make the Leader go to sleep.

Leader refuses and orders Caretaker to leave.

Caretaker walks forward instead. Places his hand on Leader's hand, stopping them from signing some document.

"Excuse me, sir, but I have to insist. You need to rest"

Leader was not used to getting affection from anyone. For a moment they can't process the touch and can't figure out how to react. The Leader is stunned.

------------------------

[non-un-topo]

Rating: G

Words: 3,618

Tags: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Canon Compliant, Historical, Nicky gets a hobby, Booker is obsessed with the Tour de France, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Loves Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani

Summary:

The comet had passed by Earth in the spring of 1066, as bright as a star. Yusuf had been born under its light. And there he stood, still as bright and lively, matching the energy of the incoming comet. Nicolas knew it would not cause the death of all beings on planet Earth. Not when Yusuf still lived. – In a flooded and panicked Paris in 1910, the Old Guard anticipate the arrival of Halley’s Comet.