#& bri i hope that these fulfill all of your britney dreams ✨

[gallawitchxx]

hey bee so um I was scrolling through tumblr right, a normal wednesday night for me and I come across these tags right?

maybe wanna share more thots on this please?

You've put this in my head and now I can't get rid of it unless someone writes it

cc: @y0itsbribri

AJ & BRI MY SWEETS 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

more harvest festival thoughts you say?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED BUT I WROTE 1.6K WORDS! PUTTING THEM UNDER THE CUT OMFGGGG

- - - -

mickey did a stint in prison--some run with terry gone wrong--& when he gets paroled his new p.o. sets him up with a job at a fucking harvest festival. cleaning toilets, emptying trash cans, picking up after all the little brats who run around eating half of a candy apple & then throwing the rest on the ground like goddamn animals!

fucking blows.

but he goes along with it because terry also got sent away & shanked inside, so he's dead now & mickey's free to live a different life.

he'd never say it out loud, but he wants a different life.

so, he works that harvest festival like his future depends on it, which it does, & vendors start to notice him, & then he's being asked to help around different booths & rides. a little fix-up here, a little "carry this to the car for me, will you dear?" there.

before he knows it, he's the harvest fest handyman.

pride swells in his chest. he looks forward to going to work.

the season ends. the festival packs it in until next year.

mickey gets a new job painting houses. he misses the folks & the smells of the festival, the woozy look of dumb motherfuckers straight off the tilt-a-whirl, even the fucking candy apple kids.

when the next fall rolls around, mickey asks his p.o. if he can get his gig back at the harvest festival. unfortunately not. someone else needs the short term placement & mickey's superiors like him down at the painting gig. no dice.

but the lure of the festival is too strong, too enticing, so of course, the first friday of the fest, mickey's dragging mandy down to the fairgrounds under the guise of some fucktwat x assface bonding time. "you like stupid shit like this," he spits, throwing his voice to throw her off his scent.

it's just like he remembered. everywhere they walk there are waves, "good to see you!"s, "we miss you this year, mick!" from familiar faces. he hides his blush behind his extra large coke & jumbo preztel.

when they hit the haunted house, the owner is outside, red-faced & screaming at some acne-scarred kid. mickey winces. he likes the old man, but he can be a hard-ass.

fuck, mickey's getting soft.

by the time he & mandy make their way through the house--mandy almost punched some scary clown in the face & mickey ended up scaring one of the employees instead of the other way around--the kid is gone & the owner's sucking down a cigarette & pacing like he's going to bore a hole in the ground.

turns out that kid was supposed to be working the whole festival, but something came up & he had to back out.

the haunted house is down one scarer.

mickey offers his services.

he fucking loves it.

mickey starts setting goals for himself--he wants to make some kid piss themselves. could he get someone to puke? how many jump scares in a night is too many? anything to spice it up for himself & the regulars he starts to accrue. tough kids with something to prove. mickey fucking takes down every last one of them.

before long, he's quit his boring ass painting gig to go on the road with old man jim & the haunted house. jim sees his potential, sees how hard he works, how much he enjoys it. pretty soon, he's covering for jim so he can get a night off & putting his math skills to use helping with the books.

nothing like the open road & a fuckton of kids just waiting to get the shit scared outta 'em.

a few years go by & old jim's starting to hate life on the road. his bones ache, his lungs are black with smoke, his cough terrible & he figures it's time to get out while he still can. spend some time at a beach or something. rest his weary legs.

he hands the keys to the literal house to mickey.

it's too much to run on his own, so he calls up the rest of the milkovich siblings. asks if they have anything better to do than to join him on the road. says that it could be good for them to get paid to run a haunted house after growing up for free in a real one.

promises them that every halloween, they'll be in chicago at the festival that mickey first worked at. they'll work the season & then hang around the ole neighborhood until the new year.

when september rolls around, the milkovich kids set-up camp at the fairgrounds. mickey's welcomed back with open arms, shown even more of the "behind the scenes" than before. he's earned it, he's one of them now.

the place feels like home.

mickey's the big boss now, he has tons of acne-scarred kids to run the actual show, but every once & a while he sees a group of punks that he really wants to show a good time & he hops in the house, taking up his old position behind a trap door in the hallway.

but one night, it's not a buncha punks that leads him to his old haunt. it's an alien-looking motherfucker, tall & glowing, face littered with freckles, a shock of red hair haphazardly atop his head.

mickey's gotta get closer to him. maybe test him a little. see what he does when the pressure's on & the walls move unexpectedly.

his palms sweat as he waits. as he peeks through the peephole in the trapdoor for the ginger & his friends to pass by.

when the time's right, mickey swings open his trap door.

the redhead launches himself back towards the opposite wall, his arm lifting like he might actually sock mickey in the fucking face. it's never happened to him before, so this would be a hell of a way for it to go.

but then, his arm is sailing smoothly behind his porcupine-looking hair-do, & mickey watches him come to land gracefully against the wall with his right leg hitched out in this fucking sexy ass pose, like that's what he'd meant to do all along.

"come here often?" the guy grins.

mickey's losing his mind, but plays it cool: "only on the weekends."

that earns him a dazzling smile, all white teeth & bright green eyes. mickey can't help but smile back.

the moment's broken by laughter from the rest of the mystery man's group, pulling both of them back from whatever cloud they were occupying in the middle of a fucking house of horrors.

mickey flushes. the redhead does finger guns????, gives a little embarrassed wave & then he's off, onto the next room.

when the fair's almost empty & mickey's almost done for the night, he grabs his pack of smokes & heads to the back of the house set-up, somewhere he's only been allowed to go now that he owns the joint.

he lights up.

he notices a figure walking up.

"'ey man, place is for employees only."

"what about friends of employees?"

fuck, it's the guy. the alien-looking one.

mickey clears his throat, "you throw finger guns at all your friends, red?"

he laughs. his face pink up & mickey wants to run his thumb against his cheekbones.

"hey, you gotta admit until then i was pretty smooth. used my last brain cell keeping it together back there."

"yeah, yeah, you did good. was impressed." mickey holds out the pack. "you smoke?"

"been known to, yeah."

the lighter snicks & then the redhead is leaning down. he smells like cotton candy and cologne.

they each take a drag.

the silence is nice. not uncomfortable, much to mickey's surprise.

finally, mickey says, "your friends ditch you or something?"

"or something."

there's a hint of spice to his otherwise smooth voice & he's looking at mickey like he could eat him alive.

"you gotta name?"

"ian," he says, holding a hand out to shake.

mickey takes it. "mickey."

ian looks to where their hands are joined. "woah, nice tats. no wonder they keep you locked up in the dark & away from the kids."

"not far away enough if you ask me."

their handshake ends before mickey's ready.

he's nervous. fuck, is that what this feeling is? all pesky butterflies in his gut.

before he can say anything else, ian asks: "so, if i come back tomorrow, you'll be here?"

"be here through halloween, man."

"but only on the weekends, right?"

mickey forgot he'd said that. wasn't true, just sounded good in the moment.

"naw man, i run the place. here every day."

mickey stubs out his cigarette, trying not to look at the delighted look on ian's face.

"you run the place? here i was thinking i was into some regular old actor type! didn't know i was talking to mr. haunted house himself."

"alright, alright, calm down. it's a fucking carnival ride, not some fortune 500 whatever-the-fuck."

ian takes his last drag and steps on the butt, twisting his leg in a similar pose as he struck in the haunted house.

"still pretty cool," he says with a shrug. "so if i were to have some thoughts about the user experience of the house, you know, a review, you're the one to tell?"

"a review, huh?"

"yeah, a pretty long one, mickey. could take a minute."

something hot flickers between them as they look each other up & down.

mickey pushes off the wall he'd been leaning on & heads towards the small door on the side of the house.

he swings it open & then turns back to face ian with a wicked grin.

"step into my office."