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karajaynetoday · 4 years ago

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And now that I'm without your kisses, I'll be needing stitches | luke hemmings

Image credit: Ryan Fleming

So @spicycal wrote a beautiful blurb about winning Duke over with a knitted blanket, and a delicious piece about a 5sos weekend away in a winter cabin (in the same universe as these two brilliant stories 1 2 from the brilliant @talkfastromance4), so inspired by these incredible pieces and the fact that it’s the middle of bloody winter here, I’m miles away from my friends and I’ve started knitting again (because what else do you do in quarantine?) - here’s a little something about being homesick and teaching Luke how to knit. This is the third 5sos thing I’ve written ever, so feedback is always welcome :) hope you’re having a lovely day, wherever you are in the world!

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(This is a fem reader insert)

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.6k

Life in Los Angeles had certainly been an adjustment. Moving overseas for the first time was intimidating, and it felt like the first day of school but over and over again. You got lost more times than you could count, struggled to order a coffee every morning thanks to your accent, and tipping was still terribly confusing. But the people in your new office were friendly, and one day one of them, a girl named Sarah, invited you out for drinks, and from there things started to get a little easier.

Sarah’s birthday was coming up, and her boyfriend Andy had organised a weekend away up in the mountains to celebrate. Sarah begged you to come along, promising snow, mulled wine, and roasted marshmallows – how could you say no? Even though Sarah being the only person you knew made you nervous, you tried to convince yourself that going on trips like this was all part of the adventurous experience you were determined to have when you left home all those months ago. YOLO, or whatever, right?

The day of the trip arrived, and Andy and Sarah were in your driveway waiting for you to join them. It was a fun journey up to the cabin, with lots of singing along to the radio and delicious homemade snacks, and you arrived mid-afternoon. A couple of cars were already parked outside the cabin when you pulled in, and you took a deep breath to yourself before following Andy and Sarah inside. Shouts and cheers met you as you entered, as the guys and girls gathered in the living room rushed forward to greet the birthday girl. You awkwardly stood off to the side, not exactly knowing what to do with yourself, when a tall man with a black buzzed haircut approached you and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Calum, nice to meet ya!” He said with a grin. You reciprocated, and shook his hand gently.

“Here, let me grab that for you. Come meet everyone!” Calum, your apparent new friend, tugged your overnight bag out of your grip and dragged you over to the rest of the group, introducing Luke, Ashton, Michael, and a few others that had come along for the weekend of celebrations. You could’ve sworn that Luke held onto your hand a little too long when he shook it, but surely you were imagining things. As the day progressed, you felt your nerves begin to dissipate, and you starting enjoying everyone’s company. Andy had organised a series of games, including Sarah-based trivia, competitive snowman building, and generally boisterous revelry. You quickly learned that Ashton and Michael were fiercely competitive, so you tried to either get onto their team or stay out of their way. After a loss in trivia (“How were we supposed to know her star sign?!” “It’s her birthday tomorrow, you dickhead!”) and a win in the snowman building (“Excellent creative execution and structural integrity. It’s the key to any construction-based art-task.” Ashton explained, in that mattter-of-fact shit-talking way of his), you shared pizza for dinner and then changed into leggings and a hoodie under your overcoat before meeting everyone outside near the campfire for s’mores. You were two marshmallows in when suddenly the wave of homesickness hit you.

The smokiness of the fire, and the gooey sugary goodness of the marshmallows took you right back to your childhood summers, where your grandparents would take you and your siblings camping for a week or so. Your granddad taught you how to start a fire, and your sister taught you how to braid your hair, and your grandma taught you how to knit as you sat around the fire for hours at a time and told stories and watched the stars. You closed your eyes and breathed in the smoke of the fire, when the laughter of the group around you brought you back to reality and snapped you out of your reverie. There was a lump in your throat that you couldn’t quite get over, so you quietly excused yourself and headed inside the cabin.

It felt silly to get so upset about a memory, especially in front of people that were basically strangers to you a few hours ago, but it was moments like this where you felt every inch of distance that separated you from your loved ones. You dug around in your overnight bag before retrieiving your craft bag that held your set of knitting needles and the deep orange half-finished scarf you’d been working on, and settled on the couch in the living room in front of the fire. As your fingers moved swiftly, looping the wool around and pulling through the stitches, you felt yourself start to relax. You had no idea how much time had passed, but you’d knitted a good ten rows before a voice behind you made you jump in your seat.

“You okay in here?” Luke spoke up, shuffling into the living room and removing his coat.

“Y-yeah. All good, just got a bit… cold.” You offered, inwardly cursing at your awkward delivery. If Luke noticed how nervous you sounded, he didn’t show it, instead smiling at you and sitting down next to you on the couch.

“What are you making?” Luke asked, peering curiously at the project in your hands.

“Oh, just a scarf. They’re the easiest thing, basically just a giant rectangle. My grandma always said that craft should calm you, not stress you, so I pretty much exclusively do scarves.” You heard yourself say back, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you met Luke’s gaze.

“Calm you, not stress you… I like that. Your grandma sounds like a pretty switched on lady.” Luke smiled at you as he moved slightly closer to you on the couch.

“Yeah, she… she was.” You said softly, stopping your knitting and twisting the wool absently around your fingers as you remembered your grandma with a fond smile. It’d been years without her, but knitting always made you feel like she was still with you. You shook your head and snapped back to reality when Luke gently squeezed your hands reassuringly.

“Could you teach me?”

“Teach you… to knit?” You said slowly, not quite sure if he was being serious or not.

“Yeah, to knit! I’m always up for learning something new. And word on the street is that I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirked at you, wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help but laugh, and you realised the lump in your throat had gone away.

“Alright, let me get you started.” You said, reaching into your bag for another set of needles and some wool. “Red or blue?” You asked, holding up two balls of wool.

“Red! It’ll go nicely with your orange one. We can match!” Luke said, grabbing the wool out of your hands. Smiling to yourself, you sat closer to him on the couch and placed the needles in his hands.

“Okay, so to cast on, we start by looping your first stitch…” You began, gently wrapping the wool around the needles and moving Luke’s hands with your own. It took a little while, but he soon had the hang of it, and you returned to your own knitting, but you were pressed into Luke’s side as you both relaxed back into the couch. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, and you felt your eyes starting to droop as the warmth of the fire and the cosiness of being snuggled up to Luke on the couch overcame you.

“Hey… let’s make a move. Sleeping on the couch will fuck up your neck, and we need you limber for the ski races Andy’s got scheduled for tomorrow.” Luke nudged you gently, taking the knitting out of your hands and tucking it under his arm as he stood and pulled you up off the couch. You trudged up the stairs, hand over your mouth as you suppressed a yawn.

Coming to a stop outside the door of your bedroom for the night, you detached yourself from Luke’s arms and took your knitting from his hands.

“Night Luke. Thanks for hanging out with me.” You said, smiling sweetly up at him. (Damn, he was tall. How were his eyes so blue? And his hair, were his curls just like that when he woke up every day? Imagine waking up next to Luke… there you go, getting lost in your thoughts again)

“Any time, angel. Thank you for teaching me how to knit. Maybe we can have another lesson tomorrow? I wanna learn how to do stripes!” He spoke excitedly, making you laugh at his enthusiasm as you quickly nodded.

“Night. Sleep tight, I’m just across the hall if you need anything.” Luke stepped forward as he spoke, and settled his hands loosely on your hips before leaning in and softly pecking your lips in a quick kiss. You felt yourself grinning like an idiot and reached up to run your fingers through his blonde curls before kissing him again. And again. Before you caught yourself and remembered you were in a house full of people and you probably shouldn’t be standing on the landing making out where anyone could see you.

“Goodnight. See you in the morningggg!” You said in a bright sing-song voice, opening your bedroom door and smiling brightly at Luke, who chuckled at you before stepping away and opening his own bedroom door. You stole one last glance before stepping into your room and closing the door behind you, pressing yourself up against it as you brushed your fingertips over your lips. It felt cliché, but your lips were tingling. Who would’ve thought Grandma and her knitting would land you here?

You smiled to yourself as you realised that Grandma would’ve thought it. She worked in mysterious ways, that woman. The homesickness was still there, but instead of anxiety it was bringing you warmth and a sense of content. That, and the boy who was metres away, trying his hardest not to drop any stitches or make any knots as he worked on his red scarf in hopes of impressing his new companion.

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#my writing #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings blurb #5sos blurb #5sos one shot #5sos imagine #okay I'm gonna go knit my scarf now lol

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zmediaoutlet · 5 years ago

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in support of Black Lives Matter, @butsamsd donated $50, and requested Sam/Dean/Jack. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After the craziness of their Halloween hunt, it’s good to be back in Kansas. Dean isn’t totally whole, probably won’t be for a while--Sam knows what it’s like to be possessed better than just about anyone else alive, he knows what the aftereffects are. Still, the hunt--getting out of his room, getting away from it all--Sam knows that it helped, too, and Dean’s happier on that drive home than he’s been in weeks, and even the crowd of cars parked up in front of the bunker don’t dim his grin, still wheedling Sam to try to get him to agree to a couple costume, for some future Halloween Dean’s thinking they might both see.

“Daphne and Velma,” Dean offers, parking the Impala in her pride of place down in the garage, and Sam squints at him, trying not to laugh, says, “Which one of us is Velma?” and Dean says, reproachfully, “Sam, please take this seriously,” and Sam looks around the empty garage, and pulls Dean in by that stupid plaid jacket, and kisses him soft, right there, because they’re--home. They’re finally home.

Dean blinks at him, when he pulls back. Surprised, uncertainly pleased. They haven’t really messed around, since he got Dean back from Michael. There was that first night, desperate and pressing together, and they had to be near-silent and it was more of an insane desperate renewing of something they’d both always promised each other than something that actually felt good. Otherwise--Dean too hurt, and trying to pretend he wasn’t, and the bunker too full, and things not right. Things still aren’t right but Sam thinks they can both live with them. “Think I’ll take a shower,” Sam says, pulling back to his side of the bench seat. “Then--my room?”

Dean breathes, presses Sam’s hand low on the bench where no one would be able to see, even if there were someone in the garage with them. “Sounds good to me, Sammy,” he says, and Sam squeezes his thumb, and gets out and heads into the bunker, smiling at the few refugees he sees, thinking--this is it. They really are home, at last.

Not all that many people around, really. Mom’s gone, like she usually is anymore, and Sam’s long-since reconciled himself to it. Cas in the wind, too, and what’s left is a half-dozen of the people Sam’s been training who aren’t on hunts, and he and Dean got back late enough that most of them are in bed, anyway, in the bunked-out rooms they reserved for themselves. Just Roland left up, manning the phones and watching Friends reruns on Netflix, and Sam waves at him but doesn’t stop, because--because Dean’s going to be waiting for him, and that knowledge is a heavy beating thrum in Sam’s blood.

Shower room’s empty, thank god. Sam strips out of the nerd gear, drops it all on the bench below the towel rack. Under the showerhead, that instant blast of heat and pressure carving the lingering worry of the hunt out of his shoulders, and he stands there for a second, soaking. Imagining. Dean, in his room, in the gold light. Dean’s skin under his hands. Everything else falling away. He drags his hands through his hair, decides to wash it another day because he can’t wait another ten minutes, and when he turns around under the stream of water there’s--Jack, standing there in his pajamas and bare feet, watching him.

Sam starts, moves a little out of the water. “Jack, hey,” he says, smiling--a little awkward, he bets, but Jack probably can’t tell. The showers are old-school open pans, not exactly private, but most people know not to just come in and watch when someone else is using them. Then again, Jack’s not most people. “You all right? Thought you were asleep.”

“I’m okay,” Jack says, and smiles. A little wan, maybe, a little pale, but he’s been different since Lucifer stole his grace. Sam’s still rinsing off suds, and Jack tracks his eyes down Sam’s body--deliberate, really looking, and Sam goes still. Jack nods, like he’s made a decision, and looks Sam in the eye. “Sam, I’d like it if we could have sex.”

Sam drops his washcloth with a splat. “What?”

Jack smiles, soft. “I thought that might seem weird,” he says, easy, but he also--strips off his t-shirt, and his pajama pants, and then he’s--jesus, naked, all of him right there, and he steps up into the shower pan and walks closer, makes Sam back up against the wall out of pure shock. “I know that isn’t the way our relationship has been going, but I think it’s something I need.”

“Jack,” Sam starts, and can only--laugh, kind of, like it’s some weird demented joke. “Buddy, this isn’t--I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

A tiny beat. Jack licks his lips. He’s not in the stream of still-running water and his body’s all smooth, pale. Perfect. Sam glances down, can’t help it, and Jack’s dick isn’t hard--just another perfect piece of him, soft and pink and curved gently over his balls, in a sparse nest of fine hair barely darker than the golden hair on his head. Cherub, Sam thinks, not for the first time, and then Jack puts his hand square in the center of Sam’s chest, over his sternum. Sam hitches in air, completely thrown. “I’ve just been thinking,” Jack says, softer. “All of the--stuff. Humans get to learn all of this when they’re growing up, but I’m already grown up and no one would ever--no one would get that. Nobody understands.”

“That’s--” Sam starts, and grabs Jack’s wrist. Soft, slipping under his wet hand. “You have to get to know people, Jack. Girls, or--or boys, I guess. Your own age, you know? This stuff doesn’t just happen automatically.”

“No one else is sixteen months old with a fully functional body and brain,” Jack says, reproachful, and Sam doesn’t have a lot to say to that, but then Jack’s mouth twists, somehow--sad. “I just want--I want to know what it’s like. At least once.”

Sam frowns--what does that mean?--but Jack shakes his head, and moves in closer, and puts both hands on Sam’s chest. “Sam,” he says, soft, and Sam should--should push him away, should demand answers, should ask why Jack doesn’t think he has other chances--only the door opens, and Dean says, “Sammy, what’s taking so long,” and Sam looks up over Jack’s head to find Dean there in the bathroom doorway, mouth half-open, staring at them.

“Dean,” Jack says, sounding glad. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean says, slowly, and looks Sam in the eyes. He shakes his head, not knowing what to say. Dean’s in his undershirt, flannel pants, and he takes a step closer. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I want to know what sex is like,” Jack says, again, firm, and Dean’s face does a thing that’d make Sam laugh any other time. “I asked Sam, but I want to know from you, too.”

“Kid,” Dean starts, but Jack shakes his head, looks back and forth between them, says, impossibly, “I know that you both have sex. With each other, I mean. It shouldn’t be a big deal for you to show me.”

“How did you know that?” Sam says, past the weird ringing in his ears. God, the shower’s still running. He shuts it off, and Dean’s just staring at Jack, his mouth set and his eyes narrow.

“My senses were better when I had my grace,” Jack says, shrugging, and looks up at Sam. “Castiel said I shouldn’t mention it, but it seems like--you know what you’re doing.” He looks at Dean, while Sam’s trying to dig himself out of the pit of what both of those statements mean. “I just...” he says, and he’s--so lost little kid, for a second. Immensely young, and sad, and Dean’s face changes again, settles.

“Why us?” Dean says, guarded.

Jack shrugs, again. He doesn’t even look turned on--just miserable, and there’s a wry curve to his mouth. “Who else could I trust?” he says, and Sam puts a hand on his bare shoulder. Something’s going on--something they should dig into.

Dean tips his head back a little, looks at Jack with full attention. His lips part, after a second, like he’s seeing something Sam doesn’t, and there’s a wash of compassion across his face. He looks up at Sam, and Sam thinks, something unlocking under his chest--this isn’t a good idea. They’re going to do it anyway.

The door to Sam’s room locks behind them. Silent, but Jack’s not nervous because he doesn’t know what to expect. Other than-- “I watched a pornographic video,” he says, and Dean closes his eyes and mutters jesus christ. “But it had a woman and a man, and I guess we can’t do those same things.”

“Some of ‘em,” Dean says, easy, and Sam leans his back against the door, holding his towel around his waist with what remains of his strength. Dean pulls Jack into the middle of the room, looks at him steady. “Jack. What are you--what do want to get out of this?”

Good question--better question than a lot of the ones Sam has. Jack frowns, seems like he really thinks about it. “I want to know--I mean, I’ve--with my hand,” he says, unexpectedly shy. Sam drags in a deep breath, imagining it. “But I don’t know what it’s like with someone else. In books they say it’s better with someone who loves you. You and Sam have that.”

Sam catches Dean’s eye. “Yeah,” Dean says, gruff, and then turns his full attention onto Jack, and smiles. Small, but full of promise. “You say the second you want anything to stop, all right?” he says, and his voice is--Sam’s gut revs, because he knows that voice. Dean, when he’s not laying it on thick as a charmer but when he knows someone wants him, and Jack blinks and nods, eager, and Dean lifts both hands and strokes his thumbs along Jack’s smooth jaw, gentle and easy, and then ducks and inch and kisses him, smooth and confident and simple, and Sam feels like the bottom drops out of his stomach.

Dean knows how to kiss. Sam knows that better than just about anyone, too. Jack makes a startled noise, clutches alternately at Dean’s shirt, his arms, and when Dean pulls back to let him breathe Jack’s chest is already heaving, his face all surprise. “Good?” Dean says, and Jack nods, more jerky than before, and Dean smiles at him, cupping his face. “Good,” Dean says, and catches Sam’s eye, and Sam walks over while Dean kisses Jack again, smooth, and again, soft and constant pressure, and Sam thinks with a burst of total insanity--this is like when Dean taught him to kiss, what feels like a million years ago--and he walks up behind Jack and holds his waist, watches up close. Soft, but insistent, and Jack’s hand creeps up to Dean’s neck like instinct’s driving it, his mouth following Dean’s lead like he’s learned everything they taught him, quick and eager. Dean makes a small, approving sound, and runs his knuckles over Jack’s cheek, and on the next press in he opens Jack’s mouth with his own and Sam sees the wet glance of Dean’s tongue and Jack moans, startled, and Sam dips and presses a kiss to his neck, says, “God, that’s good, Jack--you’re doing so good.”

Dean pulls back, mutters jesus again--grabs the back of Sam’s head and pulls him down and kisses him, too, over Jack’s shoulder, and Sam’s pulled close enough that his dick presses into Jack’s ass, and he breathes hot into Dean’s mouth and rubs his thumb in that soft sweet spot just below his ear, and god, this is--weird, weird, so goddamn weird but it doesn’t feel wrong, and Sam’s done a lot in his life that felt wrong and he knows the difference.

“Wow,” Jack says, small, and Dean laughs, pulls back from Sam and cups Jack’s cheek.

“Wow is right,” Dean says, warm with promise, and Sam knows then--whatever Jack wants, they’ll give him. They taught him everything else. It doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is. Anyway--it’s not like it’s something that’d come between Dean and Sam. Nothing ever will again.

Dean looks at Sam, expression as soft as though he heard the thought. “You ready for more?” he says, and Jack nods, so eager it makes Sam grin. Yeah, he’s ready. It’s going to be a good night.

#fffb #butsamsd #wincest #sam/dean/jack #my writing #full disclosure this doesn't get as sticky as i wanted :/#but i already spent more than the allotted time on it #i'll come back to it some other time i hope #but this is it for now

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

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Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (Chapter Summary- Two months later and one person is still being affected by a decision they made and another’s apparent rejection bothers them more than they’d prefer to admit.) (Warning- slight NSFW)

Chapter1 Chapter2

Chapter 3

A breathy sigh escaped her parted, plump lips. The silkiness of her legs rubbed against his thighs and her breasts felt firm and warm, just enough to fit in his palm with room for him to knead appreciatively. The slick heaven between her parted legs was so tight, cocooning Keanu’s member perfectly as he slid in and out of her in controlled thrusts. Her little gasps bounce of the walls, joining his low throaty grunts. Oh the sounds she makes. Y/n’s hair haloed around her on the white cotton pillow, messy and wild. She looked so divine in the most corrupted way. She’s so young, beautiful, oozing with youthful appeal. And she’s all his.

Except, she’s not. Not really.

With startle, Keanu awoke, sitting up in his bed, drenched in sweat......and something else. “Fuck,” he breathed, scrubbing his hands harshly over his face, proceeding to rub sleep out of his eyes. It was just minutes away from five in the morning and the sun hadn’t even risen yet, but Keanu knew that there was no chance of him falling back asleep.

It had become almost routine by then, his slumber being interrupted by dreams of Y/n, naked in his bed, or other parts of his house. The location never mattered, but for two months, it had been her. His mind had taken it upon itself to conjure up a slew of different sexual fantasies, ideas never seemed to be in shortage, much like his body’s gullibility when it came to believing them.

With a disgruntled sigh, Keanu shook the covers off and took a minute to offer his deflating crotch an annoyed stare. There was a stain at the front and those would be yet another pair of sleep pants that he’d have to hold back of the laundry hamper and deal with himself, lest Linda find out that she was actually working for a thirteen year old boy just discovering the mechanics of his body and not a grown man with the ability to not nut in his pants.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” He asked himself as he striped lazily, heading for the shower. As he got in, Keanu turned on the hot water, looking up as the water rained down from the entire ceiling of the sizeable cubicle. The shower in the master bath was one of the many things he loved about his house. It mimicked rainfall and could be easily controlled by the sleek silver knobs on the dark tiled wall.

As Keanu washed himself, his hands rough hands passing over his body, his mind flashed to the night from not too long ago, when he had gotten off the mere memories of a dream of Y/n. Since then, he had refrained from masturbation, at least to her image. It felt wrong, like he was violating her somehow. Y/n had probably forgotten their encounter by then, returning to....whatever women her age did. Shopping, dating men who weren’t fifty-something- learning how to run multi-million dollar empires.

He had refrained, yes. And Keanu liked to think that he was normally a man of great, strong restraint, but that morning, as he stood in the shower, hot water washing over him, his fingers brushed his member and thoughts of Y/n took a racy turn. He closed his eyes and started imagining that she was there, her hands touching him, settling to circle his growing erection, pumping slowly as her lips pressed to his, and she mumbled against him, “This what you want, huh? Let me make you feel good baby.”

Throwing his head back, Keanu groaned, his imagination running wild, his vison going white.

Men. They were all the same, weren’t they? Y/n was starting to believe the archaic stereotype. They had to be, else, she wouldn’t be in the position she was in. Sitting in a boardroom, eyes blank and teeth clenched as she listened to rantings of an ancient CFO, who apparently didn’t understand the concept of seasonal changes. As he spoke, Y/n found it hard to stay in the moment.....until he called her out on it, “You know, Miss Warren, if you don’t want to stay, the door’s right there. I’m sure kids your age want nothing more than to run wild all, boozed up.”

At his comment, Y/n sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried not to snap. After a minute, she plastered on a wide smile, “Run wild?” She quoted, malice edging her tone, “I can assure Mr. Priestly, I’m not bored, just in awe of you’re.......stupidity. I’m not sure if it’s ignorance or if you’ve never watched the news, but the reason we aren’t making in the tropics is because of the hurricane season. You know, hurricanes; big scary storms; lots of wind and rain, really dangerous and we’ve had to close three braches so far because of them,” her words drew down, her tone grew whiney and mocking and an episode of quiet laughter ran across the table as other board members snickered.

The older man’s face grew hot pink with either embarrassment or anger, and from a mile away anyone could see that his jaw was clenched. The stocky, sausage fingers of his wrinkled hands clenched into his fist before he stuffed them into his pockets, fuming, “Michael, maybe teach your daughter a little respect,” Priestly glared at her father who sat at the head of the sleek glass table, combating his own proud smile.

Michael cleared his throat, leaning back further into his impressive leather chair, folding his arms and nodding, “Yes. Of course. Good observation Y/n,” he tried to look serious, clearing his throat and nodding stiffly, “But perhaps there are better ways to correct our colleagues,” before Priestly could grumble a remark about Y/n not actually being his colleagues, Y/n’s father continued, “But Roger, maybe next time, read the brief first,” he tapped his tablet screen knowingly.

The rest of the meeting went by mostly uneventfully, save for a few snide remarks traded back and forth between Roger and Y/n. At the end of it, everyone gathered their things, dispersing; heading back to their respective offices. After a quick word with her father about the rest of her tasks for the day, Y/n did the same. Usually, they’d ride the elevator together, but he’d promised her mother a lunch date, and Y/n had opted to stay back at the office.

As she stalked past the receptionists’ desk, one of the young girls, just about Y/n’s age or a little younger; Emily, called her back, “Oh! Miss Warren-”

“Emily, we’ve been over this, you can call me Y/n, we went to middle school together,” Y/n chuckled, rounding back to the large shared desk.

“Y/n,” Emily smiled politely, “You’re cousin is here, she’s waiting in your office.”

“Great! Thanks,” after pleasant good byes, Y/n went straight to her office, pulling open one side of the mahogany doors, the long silver handle cool in her palm, “Jill I-”

“Surprise!” A cluster of voices yelled in cheery unison.

Taken a back, Y/n jumped, stumbling back into the already closed door. It took barely a minute for her expression of pure shock, with just a bit of fright mixed it, before her face took on a more excited expression. There in her office, was almost everyone she had called a friend over the past ten years; a few girls her age from the country club her parents frequented, a couple people from college and just some others she’d met at parties and other snazzy events, “Oh my god! What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re here for you, obviously. Jill told us that you’ve committed yourself to these four walls,” a guy, someone who Y/n had met on her very first day of college, Mathew, broke from the small crowd, pulling her into a sideways hug, “And we’re here to tell you, that we won’t stand for that.”

“Matt,” Y/n yelped, hugging him back, “It’s been forever. How is the world of venture capitalism?” She laughed lightly.

“About as fun as it sounds,” he grinned, finally pulling away, going to a cooler that they had somehow managed into her office, and getting out a couple beers, “I’m serious though. We’re taking you on a vacation.”

“In May?” Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion, “We can’t just-”

“Nuh uh,” Catharine, a young woman her age, who Y/n had known since she was sixteen cut her off, “Relax Y/n/n, it’s a week, not a month. You need to unwind and relax. And you’ve missed at least two birthdays, so you have to make up for those too.”

Y/n sighed, a little excited for the activities in the near horizon, but also a little worried about what her father would think if she just stole away from her work for an entire week. Seeing her tormented expression, Jillian stepped in, placing her hands on Y/n’s shoulders, “I already asked Uncle Michael; he’s okay with it and Aunt Heather thinks that this could be good for you,” Jillian's hands rubbed up and down the silk sleeves of Y/n’s blouse and her eyes pleaded with hers, “Come on cuz, all you’d have to do is pack a bag and grab your passport.”

Y/n worried on her bottom lip, thinking that it might be nice to get away for a week, to wear something other than high heels and skirt suits. Sighing, she rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, her friends seemed to be holding their breaths in anticipation of her answer and a smile tugged at the corner of Y/n’s lips as she spoke, “Well, where are we going?”

Excited cheers erupted and someone popped a bottle of champagne, quickly handing her a glass. Jillian was the one to propose her toast, and answer Y/’s question, “To beautiful, sexy people, old friends, and yachts in Greece!”

At that, glasses clinked, and everyone drank.

“Hey, whatever happened between you and you sexy movie star friend?” Y/n along with Jillian, Catharine and a couple other ladies were gathered in her closet, helping her pack while everyone else made last minute preparations.

“What sexy movie star?” Amanda, another one of Y/n’s college friends, who had taken her business expertise to Silicon Valley after they graduated asked, “We talked on the phone last week and you didn’t tell me about a movie star. Who was he?”

“He’s hot right?” Catharine interjected, holding up a deep green sundress with happy colorful flowers on it. Briefly, she examined it, then, satisfied, she tossed it into a suitcase.

Another friend, Tracy, the lone doctor of their group giggled at their questions, before asking a couple of her own, “I think the real question is; which one of Hollywood’s silver foxes is Y/n hiding from us. Tell me his last name, an I’ll tell you if I’ve seen his dick.”

Y/n, who had taken a quick shower when they got back to her place, stood in her bathrobe, surveying her selection of bathing suits, “Why would you have seen his dick?”

Tracy scoffed, “You’d be surprised, I make a lot of money on penis enlargements. I’ve seen some pretty famous cocks.”

At that, the girls laughed and Jillian shook her head, “I too have seen famous cocks,” she laughed, “But don’t you have some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality?”

Tracy shrugged and it was Catharine who spoke up again, “I think we’re losing focus here; Y/n slept with a movie star and didn’t tell us. And she won’t even tell us who he was.”

“Or if she’s seen him again,” Amanda inserted.

When Y/n turned to face her friends, holding a bathing suit in each hand, one with a colorful pattern from a season ago and the other a timeless, black, designer bikini, all eyes were on her, expectant and awaiting an answer. Even Jillian, who knew exactly who he was and that Y/n had in fact not slept with him, look amused. “Well, I didn’t tell you because it didn’t happen. We almost had sex. Almost as in someone,” she shot an accusing eye at Jillian, “Interrupted us. And he was Keanu Reeves.”

“Excuse me?” Tracy laughed loudly, dropping the pair of denim shorts she had been holding, “As in Johnny Utah, Jack Traven, and my newest favorite; John Wick. Wow,” she paused breathlessly, “I’ve actually never seen his dick.”

“Oh” Catharine, an eternal romantic exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “He’s in my favorite movie-”

Before she could even finish, everyone was saying, “Sweet November,” then a little more disconnected, “We know.”

“You should call him,” Amanda suggested matter-of-factly, “That’s a once in a life time opportunity right there.”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/n began sarcastically, “I’ll just pick up my phone and call him, with a number that I don’t have, and ask him to come fuck me on the way to the airport. Hope seven isn’t too much of a crowd,” she ended with a chuckle.

“Like Y/n Warren who has everything at her fingertips can’t get his phone number,” Amanda argued lightly, “You could have anything you want. Any phone number, any address, anything. And that’s what’s stopping you?”

“Yeah,” Y/n gasped, not believing that she was actually being pressured about something like that, “What do you think it is?”

“Fear. He’s nice guy, at least according to everyone who’s ever met him. What if it doesn’t live up to whatever you imagined. You know what they say about nice guys,” Amanda winked and Y/n could have sworn that Tracy whispered something about over achievers.

Jillian was the one who spoke up next, “Well let’s not breath down her back, while we take a minute to consider that this might not be all her fault. Why don’t you tell them what you did.”

Y/n’s cheeks took on a bright pink tint, heat rushing to her ears, “How do you know that?”

“I heard, I was standing like, a foot away.”

Scoffing Y/n shook her head, zipping her suitcase closed and pulling it to the floor, “I.....invited him over. And he never came. There,” she finalized, moving on to finding something to wear to the airport, “He essentially rejected me and that’s it, it was two months ago and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.

Before anyone in the room could propose otherwise, Mathew was poking his head into the doorway, “I swear I’m not looking,” he put a hand over his eyes, “But we need to get going, the car’s downstairs and the jet’s ready to go.”

Hurriedly, they finished packing and Y/n quickly got dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a grey cable knit sweater, hustling down the stairs, hoping to put the lingering disappointment from Keanu not showing up in the rearview.

******

Tagging- @baphometwolf666 @a-really-bi-girl @paanchu786

#Keanu reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #Keanu reeves x you #Keanu reeves fanfiction #Keanu reeves fanfic #lullaby #lullaby chapter 3 #Keanu reeves series #john wick #john wick x reader #fanfiction #ff #fanfic

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fioress · 5 years ago

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chicago’s very own fiore gattuso has been spotted on madison avenue driving a 2020 bentley continental gt v8 in red , welcome ! your resemblance to lorenzo zurzolo is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty first birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re impatient , but being cunning might help you . i think being a libra explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be bloodshot baby blue eyes, long drives without a specific destination, getting high by the beach. ( i have been conning money out of older women and men ever since my parents disowned me ) & ( cismale + he/him )

tw : abuse, homophobia

full name : fiore emiliano luca gattuso ( first name pronounced fee-oh-reh, also see here! )

nicknames : fifi, emmy ( by people who know his middle name ), some people might say... flower boy ( fiore literally means flower in italian ) 😳

gender : cismale

height : 5 ′ 8

age : 21

birthday : october 14 , 1998

zodiac : libra ( leo moon, aquarius ascendant )

right handed or left handed : left handed

eye color : baby blue

hair color : basically dark blonde / light brown

piercing & tattoos : the libra symbol on his left wrist, a cartilage piercing on his right ear

languages spoken : italian ( native tongue ), english, spanish, sicilian ( after many summers spent in his parents’ summer house in sicily )

sexuality : bisexual

place of birth : napoli, italia ( naples, italy in english )

last 3 songs listened to : dimmi che mi ami by dj matrix ( a full on fucking italian boy tbh ), talk is cheap by chet faker, west coast by lana del rey

character inspo : maxxie oliver from skins u.k , adam groff from sex education ( think season 2 adam ), alyssa foley from the end of the fucking world, david rose from schitt’s creek, michael kelso from that 70′s show, a mix of nick miller & winston bishop from new girl, maeby funke from arrested development

♡ so fiore was born to an american mother named lindsey harrison & a fully italian father named gian gattuso. his mother is a very well known politician & his father is heir of a very popular gas company, literally named gattuso gas ( yikes lol ). besides that, he is also a preacher. without saying much, his parents are very well off

♡ fiore grew up with anything he’s ever wanted ( materialistically, of course ). besides that, his parents genuinely weren’t the best of people. his mother stole millions from the so called campaigns she ran & was a generally very corrupt politician, his father treated his employees like shit & was a pretty hateful person altogether

♡ they were people who expected a lot out of their only son, which made fiore feel an insane amount of pressure from the very start. at a very young age, he showed characteristics lots of boys his age didn’t show. he did things like peeing while sitting down instead of standing up, preferred to play with dolls instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, got along better with girls, preferred to watch shows that were considered ‘girly’, etc etc.

♡ they were very harmless things honestly, things that most parents would laugh about & turn a blind eye. however, fiore really wasn’t that lucky when it came to his parents. any time he would do anything his parents claimed a ‘normal boy wouldn’t do’, he would get a huge lecture & a beating to go with it. needless to say, he learned to hide a lot of who he really was from a very young age

♡ he did a lot of things to seek the approval of his parents. he wasn’t smart academically ( dumb boi 101 tbh ), but he tried to make them happy in other ways. fiore was never fond of sports at all, but he started playing tennis at seven years old, because it made his parents happy. truth be told, he hated tennis with every fiber of his being, but again, he did this, simply because it satisfied his parents

♡ fiore grew up trying to be the perfect son, considering the fact his parents were very much in the public eye of everyone. it was all smiles for the pictures, but behind closed doors, he really wasn’t the happiest boy ever

♡ simply put, he has always known that he likes boys. he likes girls too, don’t get him wrong, but he knew, literally since he could remember, that he also had a thing for guys too. of course, he knew this wouldn’t settle well at all with his extremely strict & religious parents, so he buried his feelings incredibly deep

♡ he has a lot of charm & wit & found himself getting into relationships quicker than most of his friends. he briefly dated a girl when he was fourteen, but it was when he was sixteen that things really began getting, dare i say, spicy?

♡ there was an american boy new to his very #elite school & if you guessed it, they began to date! yup, his first boyfriend at sixteen years old. fiore was basically living two lives at this point. at school, he was himself, loud & proud, but when he got home, the facade began. the way he would switch up as soon as he entered the front door to his house was honestly shockingly scary

♡ he really felt himself falling in love with this boy even though they were both fairly young. they snuck around forever. when no one was home, he would sneak him into his room to have sex, sneak out of his house when his parents were asleep, all that fun stuff. their relationship was forbidden ( at least to fiore’s parents ). this is where it gets juicy af tho, hear me out

♡ so one day, fiore & him get really really drunk & honestly? video record themselves having sex! 😊 they didn’t do this to post it anywhere or show anyone or anything, they really just did it for themselves. they made a few copies & kept it for themselves ( stupid boys, i know! ), but they really felt like they would get married & all that gooey lovey dovey shit so they did it because yolo i guess? this is where it gets peak #juicy

♡ so fiore & him are walking back from practice. this is a time where fiore knows no one is home & no one is coming home for a while, so when they get to his house & see his father’s car parked outside, he lowkey panics a little. of course he makes the guy leave & goes inside to see what’s going on

♡ his father asks him to come upstairs & surprisingly, leads him into his room. he says something along the lines of ‘i just want to show you this so i can hear your explanation on what the fuck this is’ & this is when fiore’s entire life practically takes a 360. his father turns on his tv & legit starts playing his sex tape with his boyfriend. just picture this though; your extremely religious & hateful father & you sitting on your bed, watching your gay sex tape with your boyfriend

♡ obviously, this news isn’t well taken by his father. to make a long story short, he gets his ass beat. like, literally almost dies type shit. when this happened, he was seventeen, almost eighteen. he knew if that was ever discovered by his parents, it wouldn’t go well, but he really didn’t think them discovering his sexuality would be that brutal

♡ his parents basically disown him at that moment. they bought him a ticket to chicago & told him they never wanna see him again. it’s sad, but he packed his things & left in two days to go live with his cousin in chicago. citizenship wasn’t a problem because he had dual citizenship due to his mother being american

♡ it doesn’t really take an expert to figure out that fiore did not take this move well at all. for months, he was really depressed. he wouldn’t go out & would just lay in bed for the longest time. he was really hurt by everything that happened & it took him a while to recover. he has also lived in italy his whole life & wasn’t really used to life in america at all, but after like the fourth month of just feeling sorry for himself, it was his cousin who snapped him back to reality

♡ slowly but surely, he began putting himself out there. his english honestly #sucked when he first got to america, but it’s gotten a lot better since then ( he still has a pretty deep italian accent though ). at first, he began working at a pizza place, but fiore slowly began to realize how much he despised working. his entire life, he received everything on a silver plater with pure golden spoons, so this? he was for sure not used to it at all. again, his life completely did a 360. he went from living in a three story mansion in the most prestigious part of rome to living in a very shitty part of chicago, broke almost always, & working a job he hated with everything he had, splitting rent with his cousin

♡ fiore did not want this at all for himself. it wasn’t until he went out clubbing ( fake id & all ), that one his friends showed him the wonders of conning people. they walked into the bar with twenty bucks and left with four thousand dollars

♡ quickly, fiore began to learn his friends’ ways. his looks, personality & his thick italian accent helped him tremendously; it was like people literally couldn’t get enough of him. soon enough, he was conning & finessing the fuck out of older men & women for their money. he once walked into a casino with five dollars and walked out with over twelve thousand, & it was only because he stayed for like an hour only

♡ finessing people became a huge hobby of his. it was with all this money that he bought himself a luxury car & jump started his model & influencer career. it was also with this money that him & his cousin ditched chicago & moved into a much better apartment in new york. with his looks & persona, he gained followers like crazy & posted videos on youtube as well, getting sponsorships & recognition easier than he expected. he was literally living off his looks & his personality & honestly? he was here for it!

♡ there is still a part of fiore that has a lot of issues & trauma. honestly mommy & daddy issues af, but he doesn’t talk about this at all. no one really knows how he came up or where his family is & he keeps it this way, dodging questions about his personal life as much as he can

♡ in a way, he is kind of relieved with everything that happened with his parents because now, he’s completely free to be himself & do whatever the fuck he wants, knowing very well they can’t really touch him now. of course, it still left a mark that he’s never going to be able to erase or forget ( both in his heart & on his body too ), but he feels free for once in his life & he’s honestly kind of happier now

♡ relationship wise, he really doesn’t commit to anyone. after practically being forced to leave his now ex boyfriend at almost 18, he kind of feels like he doesn’t deserve love? it’s really fucked up but he’s genuinely convinced that no one is ever going to genuinely love him or want to be with him so he just avoids any romantic relationship of any kind, usually just hooking up with people & then leaving as soon as it’s over. the truth is that he really does want to be loved, accepted & cared for by someone he loves, accepts & cares for as well, but will it ever happen if he continues pushing people away? probably not tbh

♡ he is a fucking drinker & hella pot smoker!! legit give him some alcohol & weed he’s happy. he always has either one on him, or both tbh

♡ this is all that’s coming to mind rn but underneath is his bio!!

fiore was born to lindsey and gian gattuso in naples, italy. from a very young age, he showed characteristics most boys his age didn’t show. he would pee sitting down, every time he would visit his cousins, he would rather play dolls with them instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, watched things that were considered ‘girly’, etc. of course, this never settled well with his extremely religious parents, and every time he would do something even remotely different than a ‘regular’ boy would do, he would get a huge lecture, and a beating to go with it. that being said, fiore was quick to learn to hide a lot of who he really was. he absolutely despised tennis, but he played it anyways, and he did it, simply because it made his parents happy. the gattuso’s had a ton of money, so he played tennis in nearly all of europe. he has always known that he likes boys, maybe even a little bit more than he likes girls. literally since he’s had a sense of judgement, he’s just known. of course, he kept this a secret, practically living a double life, being himself at school and someone completely different at home. it didn’t take long for him to get a boyfriend, and soon, he found himself slowly falling in love. secretly sneaking him into the house when his parents weren’t home to have quickies, holding hands with him down the school hallways, and even lying to his parents and telling them he was going going to tennis practice just to hang out with him. however, one mistake costed him, well, everything.

they were drunk and goofing around, and decided to record themselves having sex. it was innocent and pure, both of them just making love to each other in the rawest, loveliest form. the two boys made copies of it, and fiore kept one for himself. one day, when he was trying to sneak his boyfriend into the house, he saw his dad’s car parked outside, which was odd because he was never home around that time. his boyfriend left, and he went to go investigate. his father was beyond calm, and bought him up to his room. his room. fiore was confused as his father told him to sit down on the bed, and soon, his worst nightmare became a reality. his father began playing his damn sex tape on his dvd player, and to say he was mortified was an understatement. he was humiliated, and most of all, afraid. it came without much warning, but soon, his father was throwing punches to his face, his stomach, everywhere, dragging him down the stairs just for it to continue. all he saw was blood. for the first time in forever, fiore truly felt like he had hit rock bottom. they took away his cellphone, any type of technology he had to communicate with was gone, and before he knew it, he was being shipped off to america, completely cut off by his parents.

fiore definitely didn’t take the move so well. he was a depressed mess. he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, and over all, just felt out of place. it took him a pretty long time, but eventually, he began adjusting. of course he was still super hurt over everything that had happened, his parents cutting him off, him being away from his now ex boyfriend, his first true love, but time luckily healed most of his pain, and soon, he found himself bettering his english, making friends, and fitting right in. at least he didn’t have to play tennis here. living with his cousin wasn’t so bad either. they constantly smoked, drank like there was no tomorrow, and he even managed to land him a job at a pizza delivery place. fiore hated this job though, but after a night our with friends, he found himself learning the art of conning and finessing older men and women. he does this like there’s no tomorrow, the money he made from all these schemes helping him jumpstart his career as an influencer and model, which bought him back to his typical luxurious lifestyle. fiore is just trying to get by, one day at a time.

extra spice:

#wealthyhq:intro #i rlly am a clown tbh LMFAOO

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goodproofingwater · 6 years ago

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Michael gray x reader were she is insecure about Her body and when he sees him w another girl she gets more insecure and leaves (so polly or isaiah tells him) and he goes home to comfort the reader and like a lot of fluff at the end plss💗💗

Hope that this is what you were after!

The eyes which Michael had been making at you across the room were definitely not innocent, not by a long way, and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy it. You enjoyed the attention from him and had done since the moment you had started hanging out with this crowd. Of course Isaiah was the one that you spent the most time with, him being the person who you had gone to school with, but being friends with Isaiah meant being close with Michael, and although every woman that you met seemed to swoon over the Shelbys, in your opinion Michael Gray was most certainly the most attractive man you had ever seen.

Tugging at your dress, one that you had tried to fight your friends on as you were sure it made you look horrible, you did your best to look good for him, to ensure that the looks you had shared on more than one occasion would manifest into something more, and just when you had begun to think that he wasn’t interested, he made his way over to you in the bar.

Isaiah was busy flirting with his latest conquest, meaning that Michael could easily use you being alone as an excuse to take a seat next to you, although the atmosphere that he brought with him was far from being just friendly.

“Alright love?” He spoke, pouring more champagne into your saucer even though you had barely taken a sip since you had refilled it yourself, “Lonely?”

His eyebrow quirked in a way which made you want to challenge him, and although you were sure he would much prefer a more subservient woman, you could barely help yourself.

“Oh no, I’ve been enjoying sitting alone and observing. Especially being able to hear what Isaiah is saying to this poor girl.” You lowered your voice for the second sentence, inadvertently causing Michaels face to move closer to yours and your breath hitched in your throat momentarily as his cologne washed over you, the smell of it mixed with his soap making your mind dart to him in the bath, those broad shoulders glistening..

“Oh yeah, what’s ‘e been sayin’?” The smile on Michaels' lips made him look years younger, and you wondered if he realised and deliberately tried to keep the sultry smirk on his lips for that reason.

“Oh you know, the usual stuff. I almost spit my drink out at, ‘never been with a peaky before then ‘ave ya’” Your impression of Isaiah made Michael chuckle, and you sipped at your champagne for something to do with your hands, to stop yourself reaching out and touching those inviting lips.

“Well you haven’t either, have ya?” Michael spoke, his tone so serious that his playful eyes were all which confirmed he was joking, his tongue darting across his lips making him wonder if he was also genuinely curious.

“Oh no…” You spoke, deliberately pretending to blush and laugh at his jokes, his face lighting up at your act and your stomach did a backflip at the idea that he might actually be interested.

“That’s a well-used pickup line in this part I'll have you know…” Michael grinned, sipping at his whiskey.

“Oh yeah, and does it usually work?” Your eyes moved to his lips once more as he pulled a cigarette from the silver holder and placed one between his lips. He lit it, took a deep inhale and let the smoke billow from his lips to his nose, the sight of something so new and so attractive slackening your jaw slightly.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Three weeks later you sat in the same seat in The Garrison, your bond within the group solidified now that you had spent nights with Michael, his arm draped around your shoulders confirming it to anyone who had been unsure. You felt lucky that he had chosen you, never one to be confident in yourself you had seen plenty of women that would have been better suited to him, yet here you were sipping champagne as he smoked next to you, the smell of the imported tobacco intoxicating as it was overpowering.

You had been celebrating another win for the Shelby’s when you decided to step from the private room to grab some more bottles, the smoke filling your lungs more than you wished it too and so it was the perfect excuse. Of course there was the private hatch, but you much preferred to speak to Harry over the bar, to get a break from the violence and lust which filled the private room each time you had been in there.

Hours later, the party had spilled from the private room and into the main bar, the Shelby men (most notably John) looking for a new conquest in the form of a whore or one of the many women who had since decided it was a good idea to come out on their own.

Isaiah had also found himself a new woman and was standing next to you at the bar for a good hour chatting to you about just how beautiful she was. The two of you had the kind of relationship where nothing was off limits, and so when you had asked who his evening had gone on the night you had left with Michael he had spared no detail. He had also asked you what was happening with his friend and had informed her that he had never seen Michael so infatuated (and by infatuated he meant going home with the same woman more than twice in a row).

However, when you turned to take bottles back to the booth that Isaiah, Michael, you and the girl that Isaiah was talking to had taken over, the girl was sitting next to Michael, her hand resting on his, their faces so close that you felt your stomach turn.

Instead of making a scene, you placed the bottles back on the bar and swiftly removed yourself from The Garrison, walking away fast enough that you would be well out of the way before you let out the tears that were threatening to fall.

You slipped into your bed fully clothed, hugging the sheets and hoping that you mother and father hadn’t heard you sobbing. They had warned you about dealing with that group, had tried to get you to be friends with others at school, had given you disapproving words each time you left home to drink with the Shelbys. You had never thought that this would be something that could happen. Had known that the Shelbys were heartbreakers, but the betrayal of Michael almost kissing a girl right in front of you?

And she was so slim. So pretty. You should have known it was too good to be true that Michael chose you over the women that constantly tried to get his attention, it was only a matter of time before someone who looked like that stole his attention from someone who looked like you.

It was less than an hour before you heard the window of your room open, and although you wanted to curl up and let the intruder do their worst, your body had other ideas. Sitting up immediately, you grabbed the knife which you kept hidden under you pillow and pointed it threateningly in the direction of the man you now saw wasn’t an intruder. It was Michael.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hissed at him, your hand slackening only slightly as he moved to sit on the end of your bed, your sheets pulled to cover you even thought you were still wearing everything down to your stockings. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of looking at you ever again, clothed or otherwise.

“Isaiah told me that you left.. Why did you leave?” Whiskey radiated from him enough that you knew it would smell like him in your room for days, and you hated that you enjoyed it, loved that he was here in the middle of the night drunk and wanting. Because that had to be the only reason he was here, right? The girl had snubbed him when Isaiah had returned to the table and so he was here to get into bed with the woman he knew he could have because she wasn’t pretty enough to get anyone else.

“Why do you think I left?” You hissed, pressing at his thigh with your foot to get him to stand, except it only made his hand move to press against your feet, holding them and rubbing them as he felt how cold they were from walking home, “Don’t-- Don’t think you can just come crawling back here because the girl you wanted said no. I’m not some fucking charity case, Michael, I don’t need your sympathy just because I’m not as good as the other girls.”

His brow furrowed more than you had ever seen it, and he turned to face you as he shook his head, “You left because you thought I was trying to chat her up?” His tone was full of disbelief, the whole impression he was putting off not something you had expected. You had expected him to brush past it, to continue to try and woo you, but it was like he had never considered that you would think that way.

“Obviously!” You pulled your legs back from him, crossing them underneath you and sitting up on the bed with difficulty, your corset aching against your hips but you weren’t about to let him see you in less than full clothing.

He shook his head again, looking utterly stunned, “She was trying to get me to agree to us going home with her and Isaiah… she wanted an orgy and I was letting her down easy.”

“You didn’t look like you were letting her down easy…” You mumbled, completely unsure of how to respond to what had to be the truth, the look in Michaels eyes more genuine than you had seen in anyone before.

“I was having trouble because the whole thing was..” He bit his lip and looked up into your eyes as he held himself back from saying what he wanted to for a moment, then continued, “I thought it would be really sexy to have someone watching us. I uhh.. The thought of being in a room with you and fucking you while other people weere having sex was turning me on…”

Your eyes widened, and he let out a small laugh at your expression, “Don’t worry, I turned her down, I’m not here to try and convince you. I’m here because Isaiah said you were upset..”

“I was upset because she's gorgeous Michael…” You spoke, and he moved closer to you, using his finger to set you eyes to his.

“Baby, there is no-one in this world that I want more than you. You are the first woman I have ever spent more than one night with, the first woman who I can have a real conversation with, the first woman who truly makes me laugh, the first woman who I thought that I couldn’t have and spent weeks trying to build up the courage to speak to you.” Sincerity flowed from him in waves, the feeling of his affection making you speechless as you gazed into beautiful blue eyes, “It’s too soon to say this and know that it will be true forever, but I can tell you that I’ve never found anyone more attractive than you.”

Words continued to evade you, and so you pressed your lips to his once more, so thirsty for him that his touch was like the first drop of water in the sahara, his hands gripping you enough to make you feel safe and wanted. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

#michael gray #michael gray imagine #peaky blinders imagine #lauren writes #Anonymous

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planetsam · 6 years ago

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Alex breaks the second prison and winds up on the wrong end of another alien’s abilities. Fighting on his own is nothing new, neither is fighting his own body. Being trapped there by an alien is. Will he be able to make it back?Day 5: Canon, canon divergence, what-ifs, fix-its

Day 6: Crossovers, fusions, other fandoms (Harry Potter)

“Hogwart’s Champion will be Michael Guerin!” Everyone cheers loudly as a young man gets to his feet from the red and gold table. He grins and bows and makes his way to the room, “And the Ilvermorny inaugural Champion is Alex Manes.”

Liz shrieks and throws her arms around him. Maria whistles. They are a delegation but they are loud as hell. Alex gets to his feet and moves past the Headmaster. This is a serious responsibility and he plans to take it that way. The last time this kind of inter school tournament was held, the Great War happened. Now it’s time to try again. Ilvermorny has never been invited. But in this new age of cooperation and brotherhood, the doors have been opened. Alex has walked through them, the first of his kind. Michael is standing in the room already and immediately gets to his feet, sticking out his hand.

“I’m Michael,” he says.

“I know,” Alex says before he rememberers, “shit. Sorry, I’m Alex,” he says sticking out his hand. Michael grins widely.

“I like you,” he says, “this is gonna be fun.”

Alex swallows and realizes he might be in trouble.

The weighing of the wands is the first big when they are all together again.

Alex hands his wand over, fighting the urge to adjust his blue robes. Wands, like so many things, are viewed differently here. It’s not normal to handle another wizard’s wand and just handing it over seems—wrong. Even his father has never touched it, but Alex always does his best to keep his father away from his stuff. He hands the wand over.

“Ebony and Unicorn hair,” the wizard says and produces a shower of sparks, handing the wand back.

Michael watches the exchange before he is motioned forward. His own wand is Apple and Thestral hair. He gets it back from the wizard checking the wand after they create rings of red smoke and shoot a gold arrow through them. Still he’s glad to have the pale wood back in his hands.

“Looks like we’re the first two in everything,” he says, “maybe it’ll be that way when the tasks start.”

Michael flashes him what Alex is quickly realizing as his signature grin. It makes something warm curl in Alex’s belly and his fingers itch. He’s been doing wandless magic for much longer than he’s had a wand, but that’s something he doesn’t want to advertise. He’ll never hear the end of it. But Michael continuously makes him feel like he’s swallowed a firework. So Alex does what he always does in these kinds of situations and completely blows it.

“I think the last time two champions tied, things didn’t go so well,” he says.

Four things happen in rapid succession:

Michael’s jaw falls open.

Alex’s heart crashes into his stomach.

Michael laughs in a way that is more undignified and more charming than Alex think he’s ever heard.

Alex shoves his hands into his pockets before anyone can see the sparks Michael’s laugh makes him create.

He thinks he might be in love.

There are to be four tasks, for each school participating. The first is a test of the mind. Alex is almost relieved. He is amazing with puzzles.

It’s also a glorified rubbix cube.

He has been doing them since he was a kid.

He wins, Michael comes in a close second.

“I never thought those cheap ass toys would come in handy one day!” He says, “thank you toy drives!”

Alex looks at him in surprise. There is still the remnants of a caste system here. To be fair, Michael’s lack of a british accent sets him apart, but hearing that he grew up in a nomaj orphanage is not what Alex expects. The other two champions seem confused about the references so Michael locks onto him again.

“My mom bought one for me when i was a kid,” he says, hoping that doesn’t cross a line, “i’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

“Oh i stole my brothers before i figured out how to solve it,” Michael says, “but hey at least that frustration was worth it.”

He claps Alex on the back and Alex swallows tightly before nodding.

“Yeah,” he says, “totally worth it.”

The second is a task of body.

Michael wins by being completely reckless at every turn.

Alex ties by being brave but not stupid.

They both wind up cursed anyway.

He hears Michael yell somewhere in the ornate maze they’re running through. He goes to assist because you can do that only to see Michael sucker punch someone. He whips around and his eyes widen before he casts something over Alex’s shoulder. The curse goes wide and the force in Alex’s leg is blinding. He turns mid stumble before he remembers all the reasons not to and throws the spell without a wand. It slams into them. He winds up almost on top of Michael who is clutching his hand. He instantly recognizes the curse, a much much older one than the one that was just thrown. Michael is frantically checking a bracelet around his wrist. He looks up and sees Alex and they stare at each other silently.

“We have to go,” He says. Alex can feel what’s happening and hangs his head.

“Go ahead,” he says, easing back and pulling up his pant leg.

“What—“ Michael trails off at the sight of the metal. Alex swears and runs his fingers down it, shifting the bent pieces back into place. He rolls his pant leg down and looks up to see Michael’s hand thrust out in front of him. The twisted one, not the good one, “come on,” He says.

Alex takes his hand and Michael shifts the bracelet, the hand shifting back to match the other. Alex never bothered with the illusions that would make his legs match, he never saw the point. If his leg made people uncomfortable that wasn’t his problem. They find the keys they will need along with their maps and cross the line together. They match in points and get additional ones for sportsmanship.

“How did you do that with your hand?” Michael asks.

“We usually learn wandless magic first,” He says. Michael nods, “I could show you sometime?” A relieved smile cracks Michael’s face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Max asked me to the ball!” Liz says breathlessly.

Right. The ball.

Alex is under no illusions he’s being scrutinized. He is the first champion from his school, he’s performed magic without a wand and a handful of people known he has a metal leg. There are a lot of things Alex has struggled with in his life and things he wants to keep to himself. His sexuality isn’t one of them.

“You need a date,” the headmistress explains in one of their meetings.

“Do I need a date or do I need to dance with a girl?” Alex asks. She looks confused, “I’m gay,” he says, “I don’t date girls.”

“It’s proper to dance with a girl,” she says, “but no rules forbid dancing with a boy. I’m not sure how it would work—“ she trails off, “but I’m sure you can figure it out. You should be the one doing the lifts. Not being lifted.”

“I can manage,” he says.

He feels Michael staring at him. If this is the deal breaker in their tentative friendship, we’ll, Alex figured he might just have to deal with it. He didn’t take Michael for someone who had a problem with gay people, but he’s made that mistake before. Maybe it’s just the crush he has on him that’s making this worse. Alex tries not to think about it too hard. Maybe he can ask Maria to go with him as a friend, though he did walk in on her making out with a blonde he’d never seen but apparently matched her bra to her house colors, which he could fully appreciate.

“Alex!” Alex turns to see Michael jog up to him. He braces himself, “can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Now isn’t a great time,” he starts.

“Please?” Michael says.

Alex hesitates only a moment before nodding. Michael leads him down a hallway he’s never been in before. To his surprise he motions for him to stay where he is and he walks back and forth three times in front of a door before opening it and motioning Alex inside. Alex looks around at the room. It’s big and the floor and ceiling are mirrored. Hundreds of candles are around and even though he knows it’s daytime, massive windows open to a view of the grounds on a clear night. Michael looks around the room, surprised as well before their eyes lock and he grins.

“If this is some kind of prank because you found out I was gay, save it. I went to NoMaj middle school. There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“No,” Michael says, confusion on his face, “why would you think that?”

“I felt you staring at me,” Alex says, trying to think of ways to make this hurt less.

“Well, yeah,” Michael says, “no one here comes out and says stuff like that. It’s all rumors,” he scuffs his foot. Hope should not feel this barbed, Alex thinks, “I’m bisexual,” he says.

“Oh,” Alex echoes.

“Yeah,” Michael says. Then he sets his shoulders, “you wanna go to the ball with me?”

“Huh?” Alex stares at him.

“We have the ball—“

“I know, you want to go with me?” He says, just to make sure he’s heard right. Michael nods his head, curls bouncing and Alex thinks the hope sparking in his chest might kill him. This time when his fingertips start to spark he doesn’t stick them in his pockets and Michael looks from his hands to his face, so earnest and hopeful he feels his defenses crack, “is that a yes?”

“Are you sure you want to tell everyone?” He asks.

Michael crosses the space between them, pausing only long enough to make sure he’s probably not going to get set on fire and then he mashes their mouths together. Alex makes a muffled noise of surprise. He’s gay but there’s not a lot of gay guys in his class. His hands fist in Michael’s robes before he can pull back and he focuses instead on how soft Michael’s lips are. He feels the moment something changes and shifts, the kiss becomes something he never wants to stop as Michael’s lips glide along his. Boldness stirs in Alex and he nips Michael’s bottom lip, making him groan into the kiss. Alex feels his hand on his lower back, tugging him closer and he gives up his hold to tug Michael’s curls. Michael pulls back and pushes their foreheads together, his scarred hand tucking hair behind Alex’s ear.

“I’m sure I want to go to the ball with you,” Michael breathes.

“I guess we’re going to have to figure out those lifts.”

Once they kiss it is supremely difficult not to do it at every turn.

They fail. A lot.

Especially like right now when they are supposed to be studying but Michael has him up against the bookshelf, kissing and nibbling down his throat. Alex is biting back every sound he wants to make at the ministration but they still get caught in his chest, right around where Michael has his hands. He feels him smile against his throat.

“Shhhh,” he breathes against the skin, “this is a library.”

Alex tugs his hair and Michael pushes their hips together. Then he jerks back and pulls Alex with him, adjusting his robes as he goes. Alex follows as he pulls him back to the room where he asked him to the ball. Michael looks at him and Alex nods, following him back into the room and the bed that definitely wasn’t there before.

“What happened to your hand?” Alex asks after, when they lay tangled up in each other.

“Hippogriff accident,” Michael says. Alex shoves his shoulder, “why do you wanna know?”

“I wanna know everything about you,” Alex confesses.

“I got cursed when I was a kid,” Michael says. Alex wishes he didn’t know anyone who would curse a kid, but that’s not true. Instead he nuzzles closer to Michael, “I figured out how to contain it,” he says, “my brother helped.”

They fall silent until Michael glances down at his missing leg.

“Car accident,” Alex says, “I woke up in a NoMaj hospital.”

“Did you want to get it fixed?” Michael asks.

“They can’t,” Alex says, fighting the urge to get up and run. Michael’s hand tightens on his hip.

“Why not?”

“Same reason,” Alex says.

The thought occurs to him and it must show on his face. They rip apart at the same time and he almost falls off the bed, barely managing to get his feet under him. They scramble for their clothes and at least get their underthings on before they turn to face each other. Michael knows, is his first thought. The second his how the hell could Michael not tell him.

“My dad—“

“Alex—“

“My dad did that to you,” He says, “didn’t he?” Michael looks down, “how could you not tell me!”

“You’re not your dad,” Michael says, “I know you aren’t. Look what he did to you!”

“I have to go,” Alex says.

Michael’s gaze is hot on him but Alex doesn’t care. He has to get out of here. His dad maimed Michael. His dad maimed them both but for Michael it’s different. This feels like his fault. His dad would have maimed him either way. Michael probably could have escaped it if he had been luckier. Alex can’t look at him directly but he can see the marks he’s sucked into Michael’s skin. All he can see are the marks his family has left on him.

He flees.

Alex is used to being under scrutiny for any number of things. The only thing he tries to avoid acknowledging he’s being stared at for his his father. Jesse Manes is a monster. But he spent a long time as an insidious one, one that no one really looked at. Not until he tried to curse Kyle who has always been unbearably clever and determined. Kyle also doesn’t have a dad or a secret, but deep down Alex thinks that wouldn’t have made a difference. Kyle shows up, still weak and shaking from the curse his father threw and brings half of

MACUSA with him to throw his father in prison.

Alex has never been more proud to be in the same house as him.

It isn’t hard to find out what his father did. He’s responsible for ruining Michael’s life. Alex knows he isn’t his father and there are people like Kyle who have never thought of him that way. But there are plenty like Michael who have tied them together. Alex can’t blame them, but he doesn’t think it’s ever hurt so much before. Alex refuses to be a coward about this and forces himself to look at what his father did. It’s not just Michael’s hand. It’s Michael’s family. His father ruined Michael’s life and Michael didn’t say anything.

He has no idea how to feel about that.

“You can’t just assume he’s going to hate you,” Kyle argues as they run around the Quidditch pitch, “that’s not fair to either of you. Just talk to him.”

“I’d hate me,” Alex says.

“I don’t,” Kyle says, “which is why we’re here now.”

Alex whips around to see the Gryffindor Quidditch Team talking. Their Captain turns to Michael and Alex can see them arguing. Michael is a Beater, Max is a Keeper. The rest of the team looks bored as they snip at each other, but this is probably nothing new. The sharp whistle draws their attention and Alex sees the blonde jab her finger down. By the time he turns he and Michael are making eye contact. Kyle puts a hand on his shoulder and Alex takes back every nice thing he ever thought about him as Michael grabs his broom and gets down to where he is. He looks good in his robes but then again, Alex kind of thinks he’d look good in anything.

“I need to talk to you,” Michael says.

“That’s not a good—“

“Please,” He says, “it’s important.”

Alex can’t say no, much as he wants to. Irrationally he wishes that he was back at Ilvermorny with an ocean between him and Hogwarts. But he follows Michael as Michael shoulders his broom and leads him away, ignoring everyone else’s shouts. He leads him to the Great Lake. Alex forces himself to stand there as Michael turns to him.

“I don’t think you are you dad,” he says. Alex looks down, “I don’t blame you for this, I can keep you two separate—“

“No you can’t!” He shoots back, “my dad and I have the same blood. The thing that did that to you is in my veins.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Michael protests.

“You’re lying,” Alex says, “it’s fine. It would be weirder if it didn’t matter. You should find someone else to go to the ball with,” he turns to go and Michael grabs his arm. Alex rips it free, “don’t,” He says.

“You can’t decide this for both of us!” Michael yells after him, “Alex!”

He keeps walking, ignoring the shouts of his name. Michael can claim whatever he wants, the truth is that there is no way to untangle him from his dad. No more than he can untangle Michael from his curls, it will always be there. Always be a knife in their relationship. One of them has to have the sense to put an end to it before it hurts more. Alex takes it upon himself to be the one to rip the bandaid off.

He hates that Michael would get that reference.

Michael shows up at the ball with a pretty girl.

He goes with Kyle and still gets to cause a scandal.

The night is not as bad as it could have been.

“Alex?”

Alex turns to face his next test and feels his heart leap into his throat. The man standing in front of him is Michael. An older and, if possible, hotter version of the one he can’t look at. There is something unbearably right about how he looks, even if some of the details are wrong. Alex refuses to give in to the urge to throw his wand down. This is a test of his soul. He’s not going to fail it.

“Is that a wand?” His eyes widen, “Alex—“

“Stupefy!”

The last thing Alex is expecting is for Michael to throw his hands out and cast a shield charm. Or he things it’s a shield charm, he’s not sure. Nothing changes but the spell goes flying. Alex’s eyes narrow. This doppelgänger or alternate Michael or whatever he is, looks outraged and then back at him. Alex raises his wand but Michael stalks towards him undeterred, throwing out something that takes the wand from his hand. Alex didn’t grow up with a monster for nothing though and when this older version of Michael gets close enough, he plants his good foot and slams his prosthetic into this Michael’s shin.

“What the fuck?!” He takes him down the rest of the way, “I’m trying to help you ungrateful piece of—“

“Stupefy!” He orders again and Michael passes out and then fades. Alex swallows and grabs his wand, getting to his feet and running towards the checkpoint. Out of the shadows steps a twisted version of himself, “Huh?”

“Come on Alex,” the demonic version of himself says, “you know how we feel about surprises.”

He shakes out any lingering emotions about seeing Michael and faces off against himself. He has always been his own worst enemy, but if anyone knows how to defeat himself it’s him. He ignores his wand and rushes his doppelgänger, tackling it to the ground. He beats himself into submission easily, though he does it with his fits and gets a split lip in the process. He doesn’t care as his doppelgänger explodes into ash and he staggers to the checkpoint. Michael is the only one there and he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge him. For once Alex is glad, after fighting Michael he’s not sure he can look at him either.

It’s not until the other two champions get there and everyone is discussing defeating themselves that he realizes everyone only fought one opponent. No one acts like it’s strange he fought two. No one even acknowledges it. He doesn’t know much about the other two champions but if he had to fight Michael, why didn’t Michael have to fight him? Unless Michael has realized that he can’t see past what Alex’s family has done, what he has done. Maybe the test is that in his soul, Alex knows he loves him but Michael doesn’t feel the same.

Better now than later, he supposes.

He can taste the ash in the back of his throat. It’s alright, he tells himself. This is what should be. Michael is leading him by handful of points. If he wins the last test by a wide margin he’ll be the champion. The last test is of the heart. Alex finds it fitting that he has to beat Michael as best he can.

If he pulls it off, he really will have beat his heart.

He looks over at Michael who is quiet. Unusually so. It’s almost like he’s asleep, though his eyes are open. He blinks and looks around, like he’s forgotten where he is. Alex looks away before they can make eye contact. The only thing he’s concerned with is winning. Michael turns to him but Alex walks away before he can say anything.

He plans to avoid him until the task.

Hopefully until he’s back on the other side of the Atlantic.

“We need to talk,” Michael says.

Michael doesn’t even corner him in the room they’ve been meeting in, he pulls him into the nearest alcove one day and just says they need to talk. Alex shrugs it off, if they needed to talk, Michael would have said it before. If he didn’t, then this really isn’t necessary. He tries to look away but Michael is right there, his hands on either side giving Alex nowhere to go if he wants to keep his pride in tact. Pride is the only thing he has at the moment so he chooses to do it.

“We’ve said everything we need to,” he shoots back.

“No, you’ve said what you need to,” Michael snaps, “you don’t even give me a chance to think. Then you run off and get yourself hurt.”

“You have five points on me,” Alex snaps, “and a split lip barely counts as hurt.”

“Any time you get hurt it ‘counts’ to me,” Michael retorts, the words somehow romantic and frustrating all at once, “Alex this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says through gritted teeth.

They look at each other in the darkened alcove, both worked up and angry and he still doesn’t expect it when Michael lunges forward. The kiss is furious and angry and rough. Their teeth knock together. Then it shifts into a bruising battle of force. Like they are both trying to communicate without words. He refuses to be pushed around like this though and seizes the front of Michael’s robes, shoving him back against the other side of the alcove. Michael pulls him closer and Alex grabs his hands, pinning them against the wall. He shoves himself back and looks at Michael’s bruised lips and his wet eyes and feels disgusted at how much he wants to keep kissing him.

“Stay away from me,” he says and shakes off the grab Michael makes for his wrist in favor of getting the hell out of there.

The final task they must complete is a culmination of everything before. It’s a call back to the protection of the Sorcerer’s stone, a series of tests that finish with the first two dueling for mastery. All the tests go easily and Alex is elated when he’s the first one but less elated when the second person to run into the room is Michael. He can do this, he tells himself as Michael looks around before his eyes land on him. Determination sets in every line of his face.

“You ready for this?” He asks.

“Take your wand out,” Alex says, tightening his fingers on his.

“I don’t need it,” Michael snaps.

“Fine,” Alex replies, setting down his own wand. His magic thrills with the promise of not being channeled through anything but his fingertips, “whenever you’re ready.”

Michael rushes him and Alex throws out the first spell he can think of. Michael banishes it, the same way the other one did. Then a wave of something comes towards him, but this time Alex is ready. He throws up a shield of his own, causing the wave to reflect and slam into Michael. Michael goes against the wall and Alex keeps the wave up, pushing the telekinetic attack back at him.

“You’re not Michael,” he says, “where is he?”

“I am Michael,” Michael snaps, “you’re dreaming, Alex! This isn’t real. We read these books when we were kids!”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying!” Michael bellows back and the wave reverses. Alex pivots and it slams into the wall behind him, shaking the stone. “You’re dreaming,” he says, “you don’t have magic,” his eyes go over him, “you’re not a—whatever that is,” he says, “you’re a Gryffindor. Like me.”

“I’m a Wampus,” Alex snaps, ignoring the way he’s talking, “I’ve never been to Hogwarts.”

“Oh my God we are not at Hogwarts! We’re in your head!” He steps forward. Alex raises his hands, “come on Alex, you gotta believe me,” he says.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Alex shoots back, “least of all believe you.”

“Come on Alex,” Michael says, “you’re dreaming. Somewhere in there you gotta know this isn’t right. You sent yourself to American Hogwarts.”

“Ilvermorny!”

“That’s not a thing.”

Alex rolls his eyes. Michael has to be joking. This doesn’t even seem like a strategy. He knows he should be finishing the duel but something about how earnest Michael is being makes him hesitate. It’s a weakness he knows he’ll pay for if Michael wins. But Michael doesn’t even seem to know they’re dueling, let alone that he should be trying to beat him.

“This is a bad strategy for trying to win,” he tells him.

“I’m only trying to win one thing and it’s not this,” He says, “do you think I would lie to you?”

“You did,” Alex snaps. Michael looks down, “you lied and you kept lying. You can’t forgive what my father did. I told you it’s fine, let’s just finish this.”

Michael stares at him.

“That’s not true,” he says.

“We don’t have to go through this again,” Alex snaps.

“We do if you don’t believe me,” Michael says, “Alex I don’t hold what your dad did against you. Maybe I did at the beginning but that’s not how I feel now,” he tells him, “I lost everything! You had to give me a chance to recover. I gave you one.”

Alex raises his eyebrows at him,

“We’re not the same person—“

“Yeah tell me about it,” Michael snaps, “you know who I am. You know what a mess I was—“

“You still hurt me,” Alex says.

Michael looks like he’s about to pull his hair out with frustration. Alex refuses to be swayed. If they are really having it out, he will say what he wants to. They can finally be honest with all their cards on the table. Maybe that’s what they both need.

“I’m sorry!” Michael erupts, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, “look I’m here. That counts for something right?”

“You’re here because you want to win,” Alex dismisses.

“No,” Michael says, “do the hand thing,” he says, “beat me. You can win.”

“I’m not winning like that,” Alex snaps.

“Why are you like this?!” Michael explodes, “why does your code of honor always matter more than me? Why is it so important?”

“Because I’m a bad person!”

Alex doesn’t mean to scream the words at Michael’s face. But they leave his lips and he can’t take them back. He’s never said those words aloud before. He’s always known them. He’s his fathers son, no matter what he does. But if he’s good, if he lives well, then maybe he can make up for some of it. In some small way maybe he can get out from under his father’s thumb. Michael’s look is familiar in a way that Alex can’t fully identify. He’s seen that look before.

“That’s not true, Alex,” he says, taking a step forward, “you’re a good person. You’re one of the best people,” he says, “especially when you break your code.”

“You don’t know that,” Alex says, “you don’t know what I’m capable of—“ he sees how close Michael is getting, “stop,” he says.

Michael ignores him and closes the distance. He doesn’t kiss him, he just wraps his arms around him. Everything in Alex’s body goes stiff at the touch but Michael buries his face in his neck, focusing on hugging him even though Alex feels incapable of returning the gesture. His eyes are burning and when he closes them, it feels like they’re fusing shut.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Michael says.

“You should be.”

“When do I ever do what I should?”

“I—“ Alex frowns. The world starts going water color and pink. Is the part of the heart challenge? Or a different thing? He doesn’t feel any magic coming from Michael, “I—“

“See? You can’t think of anything,” Michael says triumphantly.

“I swear I can,” Alex argues.

“Tell me when you wake up,” Michael says into his neck, “okay, Alex? Tell me when you wake up,” there’s a steel edge in his voice that wasn’t there before. Everything is heavy and warm. He’s aware of some shift, the only thing that remains the same is Michael’s arms wrapped around him, his face buried in his neck and the words, “wake up,” being said over and over into his skin. Alex doesn’t know why everything feels so heavy or it’s so hard to open his eyes.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, turning his face into Michael’s curls.

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex fic #alexmanesweek2019 #michael x alex #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #hogwarts au #harry potter au #IDGAF ITS A DAY EARLY THIS WAS GOING UP THE SECOND I WAS DONE #max evans #isobel evans #isobel x maria #liz ortecho #kyle valenti

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tippitv · 6 years ago

Text

Supernatural TippiTV Recap: 14-13 “Lebanon”

Okay before we get started. This is a long one and while I think it's pretty funny if I do say so myself, there's also a lot of me just... frickin ranting about John Winchester and rushed plots. If you loved this episode and don't want to see someone snarking about it, this might not be the recap for you.

On the other hand if you're like me and come from the TWoP tradition of snarking about the things we love most, then come on in!

THEN!

Two children talk about how their dad is on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a while.

Oh wait... holy crap it's Sam and Dean. It took a sec to recognize them without the gravelly voices and almost 14 years of soul-crushing despair.

We also get a reminder of very recent episodes, including the one where Mary learns about the time John threw young Dean's food away because it reminded him of her. It's important to remember what an abusive, hardened asshole John Winchester was... so that we can forget it! Forget it all!

[insert video of recapper letting out a Klingon scream]

NOW!

Sam and Dean mosey on into a pawn shop that I'm positive is in the US because they never leave the US but there's a sign that says the shop buys "jewellery" which is how they spell it in places that also spell "flavor" with a u. Dean flashes a big wad of cash to get the broker to show them "the good stuff."

By this, he means the magical goods, although the secret room looks like a high school drama department prop closet.

Dean says they're looking for the skull of a woman who was executed during the Salem witch trials. While the broker goes looking for it, Sam picks up a teddy bear from, you know, a shelf full of cursed and magical items because it's not as if stuffed animals have ever been dangerous. <cue ironic flashback>

Luckily he's warned away from it before he can unleash some kind of... Pooh demon... probably.

Anyway, it turns out having the skull proves that the broker killed a friend of theirs or something... Honestly, very little of this is going to have any bearing on anything. Long story short, fisticuffs ensue and Dean shoots the broker while he's expositing to Sam. "They always talk too much," Dean says.

Sam and Dean decide to take a bunch of magical items home with them. Although... what if they rightfully belong to other peop---ah screw it.

Okay now... here comes a long, boring subplot about teenagers back in Lebanon, Kansas. The main thing that's pertinent to the show is that Sam and Dean have a certain reputation around town. And no wonder! They park right in front these teenagers and start talking about shit they would never want anyone to hear.

They head into the world's skimpiest liquor store and the owner addresses them as "the Campbell brothers." Say whaaaat? Have they been using their mom's maiden name for a while and I just missed it? I mean, I guess it makes sense because... Actually, I don't remember how much stuff is still in their world about the infamous Winchesters. Like I legit can't remember if Charlie or someone erased their FBI/police records or if it was just some fanon someone told me about.

Also, nothing says "real liquor store" like shelves of bottles turned so that their name brands don't show.

Anyway, Sam stage-whispers to Dean about an ancient Chinese pearl that grants "what your heart desires."

The plan is to get Michael out of his head, but they notice someone is driving off with the Impala. They run out to confront one of the teenagers about it. He confesses that a girl named Max is the culprit, so that we can spend several minutes on this subplot instead of the much more emotional and important main plot.

I mean, we go from the post office to a pizza joint to an old house on the edge of town to catch up to the Impala. Max has apparently brought all that lethal “secret” stuff inside for a party. The camera lingers on that teddy bear again as if it's going to be important to the plot later.

Max, the car thief, has a crush on a girl and ISTG I was prepared to be mad if she died. Like I don't even want this whole subplot at all but I'd be puh-hissed if they had queer characters on just to kill one. Luckily I was wrong and neither of them die. However, the dialog is killing me. "I'm sooo excited for pizza." Tell me you can't imagine Lumpy Space Princess saying that.

Apparently the ghost of John Wayne Gacy (sigh) was waiting for the kids to go in search of pizza before oozing out of a cigar box the Winchesters brought from the pawn shop.

Why is his ghost dressed as a clown? I mean yes I know Gacy was a children's party clown, but it's not like he died in that outfit. Aren't ghosts supposed to be wearing what they died in? OH GOD WHY DO I CARE.

The Winchesters show up and scoot everyone out of the house, but not before at least one kid sees the ghost. Sam zeroes in on the cigar box and Dean points out how Sam's love of serial killers and hatred of clowns are in conflict.

Of course, some of the kids come back in just as the ghost goes up in flames. Sam and Dean decide to just... tell them the whole truth instead of just lying. Like..."Yo, one of the things you stole was secret holographic tech and you could face prison time if you talk about it." See? Easy peasy. Instead, they just trust the kids to never talk about ghosts being real and meeting actual ghost hunters.

I briefly wondered if this was some kind of back door pilot for teen hunters, but I haven't heard anything about that. Granted I didn't actually look that hard.

Once back at the bunker, Sam finds the magic pearl but it's kinda... chalky and medicinal looking. It looks like something Goop would sell to stick up your hoohaw.

Dean decides there's no time to wait because we've already spent too long on teenagers playing hooky. Like, even Sam doesn't really know how to use it. "I guess you just concentrate on what your heart desires," he says, scrunching his face uncertainly. I mean what if this had happened

The music swells dramatically. The lights flicker off dramatically. A shadowy figure approaches... dramatically. Fisticuffs ensue! It's a nice callback to Dean and Sam fighting in the dark in the pilot episode because ta da! It's actually John Winchester! Which we all knew because this was foretold in promotions.

The lights come up, showing... just a whole lot of things for me to process.

Now, at first, things don't seem that weird. We've seen people come back from the dead so many times, it's basically as surprising as buying socks at this point. Except! John isn't back from the dead at all! He's traveled through time! He eventually tells us he's from the year TWO THOUSAND AND THREE. TWO ZERO ZERO THREE.

He's both three years younger than the last time the bros saw him AND 13 years older, because for Jeffrey Dean Morgan, and all the rest of us mortals, time has marched on. Consequently, John Winchester looks like he got stuck in a wormhole for a good while.

Now, kudos to John for recognizing his sons, especially Sam, who looked a little something like this the last time they saw each other.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Palo Alto?" he asks Sam. "And also not a middle-aged man?" he doesn't ask, but I bet he was thinkin' it.

It's just... sigh. I might as well get it all out now. I get what they were going for here. It's the 300th episode and they wanted to have John show up. But because everything is so rushed, they just gloss over anything remotely realistic to the characters. John is all softness and awe the instant the lights go up, instead of bristling and suspicious. Why wouldn't he think it was a djinn or some other creature's doing? "Well we don't have time for him to be as flinty and wary as John would have been in 2003, because we need to get to the part where he spends quality time with his family!" YES EXACTLY. The show is three hundred episodes old now and it deserves more than this speedy treatment put together seemingly for the concomitant promotional opportunity.

Anyway they have a Sit-n-Chat to catch John up on what they've been doing, including the living situation there at the bunker which includes an angel and the son of Lucifer. Goodness only knows what John is picturing.

Now that I think about it, the brothers should be hella wary too. I mean, what if the pearl is cursed? What if John is actually some shambling interdimensional beast masquerading as John? What if the whole thing is just a hallucination brought on by nefarious moon herbs in Paltrow's pookie pearl? They just uncharacteristically seem to rely on the pawn broker's ledger.

Fine! Fine! I’ll drop it.

They talk about how they met John's dad via time travel, too, but don't mention that's why John never saw him again after childhood. They talk about the Men of Letters, finally killing old Yellow Eyes, saving the world... Then just when they're about to tell him that Mary's back from the dead, she actually shows up and starts calling to her sons. What a coincidence! John is pained.

It seems like they didn't tell her, either? Did they just tell her to come over for a surprise or did she just happen to be on her way there anyway? Anyway John and Mary start in on a smoochy reunion so Sam and Dean quietly leave the room.

Sam's like, "How'd this happen?" And Dean's like, "We spent too much time on the teenager subplot instead of looking into this potentially dangerous thing, is how!"

For some reason, John is perusing the library alone instead of... um... making up for lost time with his hot wife. Sam goes to talk to him and finds out Mary's off writing a shopping list for Dean so she can make that emotionally important casserole again. This leads John to admit he fucked up with his kids. Sam is reluctant to blame John because he's had almost 13 years to get over it.

I hate that everyone's acting their little hearts out and all I can think is how painfully contrived the episode is. Whatever problems I have with the writing and the premise, I don't have a problem with the job the actors are doing. Okay, okay, I'm really letting go of it this time.

John rubs Sam's shoulder and tearfully says, "Son, I am so sorry." The cellos of sadness play sadly. "I'm sorry, too," says Sam. "You did your best, Dad. You fought for us, you loved us... that's enough."

It's one thing to decide you're going to move past the shitty, shitty things someone did because you're in the midst of the enormity of what's going on RIGHT NOW. But it's another thing for the show to minimize the past. John did NOT do his best. For fuck's sake, he left a little boy in charge of an even littler boy! Dean knew his Dad was possessed because his REAL dad would never be proud of him! When Dean stole food to feed Sam, John abandoned him to face the consequences!

God damn it I guess I'm not going to let it go, after all!

Anyway, Sam and Dean head into town for groceries and time paradoxes. The liquor store owner no longer recognizes Dean, which is the surest sign that something is Very Wrong. Dean is flabbergasted. "It's me! Dean Campbell! I come in here like... always!"

As Sam heads back to the car, he sees a wanted poster for his bro. It's the old Blue Steel one except I think Sam used to be on it too? He's not anymore. He heads back to the car to tell Dean, but Dean's already been a-googlin' on his phone.

He plays back a video of Sam as a turtleneck-wearing lawyer espousing a raw food diet with plenty of kale. Good lord how much raw food does someone the size of Sam have to eat to fulfill his daily caloric needs?

They kind of hand-wave how these new versions of themselves exist at the same time as the OG versions. "Our timeline is changing to this new one!" Sam says. He says they need to put things back the way they were or they'll be stuck. It's nice of the timeline to work slowly enough that they can figure this out.

Somewhere nearby, the angel Zachariah appears. Castiel moseys up beside him and he's brought some old friends.

They decide to head into the nearest pizza place. The teenagers are there because not even a paradox will get rid of this subplot. "Can I help you?" asks the waitress. I think the usual question would be, "Can I get you a table for two?" but whatever. Zachariah asks her who's been messing with time. "We sensed a disturbance in the, well, let's call it the Force," he says. Naturally, she's very confused, and even more confused when he says they're from Heaven.

He says he'll have Castiel murder everyone if they don't tell him what's going on. To emphasize this, Castiel whips out his angel mojo.

Sam and Dean see the bright light from across the street and come running in. Sam's like, "Zachariah?!" and Dean's like, "Cas?!" and Cas is like, "Is that with one S or two, and also who are you?"

Zachariah exposits that Heaven had big plans for the Winchesters but then their dad suddenly disappeared in 2003. Why wouldn't the angels assume the disappearance and the time event are connected? Why'd they have to just start asking questions in a random pizzeria? Fisticuffs ensue!

Zachariah force-chokes Sam while asking him for an explanation. Why do villains always try to make people talk while they're choking? Pick one or the other! But this gives Sam a chance to surprise Zachariah with an angel blade in the heart. Oh, Zachariah. Destined to die by Winchester in every version.

Meanwhile, Dean and Castiel are still tussling even though I'm pretty sure Castiel could kill them both pretty quick. Sam joins in for a bit, but gets flung into a table. If there's a table around, someone's getting flung into it. Then he goes back to strangling Dean instead of finishing off Sam, giving Sam a chance to make one of those angel-vanquishing sigils with his own blood.

They go back home. Dean explains the whole paradox thing to John. If he doesn't return to 2003, Dean will live the same life but alone, Mary will never have come back to life, and Sam will devastate kale crops like a moose-sized locust.

John agrees to go back. "Me versus your mom, that's not even a choice." That's... a weird way to phrase that dilemma. At the same time, Sam is delivering the news to Mary. He says "the lore is pretty clear" that if they destroy the pearl, everything goes back the way it was. What lore? They knew jack squat about it before they used it. Mary has some questions.

John tells Dean he's proud of him and I slightly expect Dean to whip a gun out on him. "I never meant for this.... I guess I hoped that eventually you get yourself a normal life..a family..."

WHAT.

WHAAAAAT.

He did nothing to prepare them for a normal life! Leaving your kids in motel rooms, never letting them settle down in one school, issuing ultimatums when Sam wanted to go to college? Man, Dean should've been like, "Nah, that was your other son, Adam, who got to live a normal life... at least until a ghoul ate him and his body was used by an archangel." But Dean is nicer than me, I guess. "I have a family," he says.

They decide to eat dinner even though who knows when the timeline is going to snap into place permanently. Oh my God they even take the time to wash the dishes after. They have a nice chat and again, everyone's acting their little hearts out and I'm trying not to be distracted. Dean tells Sam he doesn't want to change the past. "I'm good with who I am. I'm good with who you are." Please let that stick with no reversions to self-loathing and I'll retroactively like this episode more.

They cut to this shot and for a second I thought it was Sam and Dean holding hands at the sink.

Of course it's John and Mary. Sad piano plays sadly. John's not going to remember anything, but the rest of them will. Oh man what if John got Mary pregnant during his visit. Sam and Dean were out shopping for a while. I wish I hadn't thought that, but now that I have, you all have to be witness to my horrible brain's meanderings.

John reiterates that he's proud of them. So this time Sam pulls a gun on him! No, he doesn't. They all hug and cry genuine tears before John goes back to holding hands with Mary. Sam reluctantly smashes the pearl to bits. Seems like Dean would have to be the one to smash it since he's the one who made the wish, but it works and John slowly fades out of the present.

Everything goes back to normal, including the teenagers remembering and loudly discussing the existence of monsters in public.

Castiel returns to the bunker in his newer, homelier coat and less erotically tousled hair. "What happened?" he asks. The response in my brain:

Back in 2003, John wakes up in the Impala to the sound of his flip phone ringing. Smart phones are great and all but man I miss the battery life of my flip. It's the Dean of the day calling to check on him. John, although he's not supposed to remember anything from the future, seems to have experienced it as some kind of dream. He seems nicer, too. This will probably have no bearing on the timeline, though... right?

I mean, is that 2019 casserole still in his stomach? Did the wine turn back into grapes? Probably not but these are the kinds of things I think about.

Sigh.

I feel the episode does a disservice to its main characters. I've already ranted more than enough so I'll just pick one example:

If Sam had gone on to live a normal life, he would've become a cold-hearted douchebag who tells people that hobbies and families are a waste of time. Like, ha ha yes it's amusing that Sam is the leaf-munching Steve Jobs of law, but what's the meaning here? Are we saying that wanting to get an education for himself means he's a selfish asshole? Like this is the alternative to the codependent relationship with Dean that formed because of their father? Argh.

The John apologia is just so clunky and unnecessary. John could've said, "I should've done more than teach you to hunt monsters... prepared you for a normal life so you could have a family." Then Dean ccould say, "Being able to kill monsters kept us alive long enough so that we figured out things for ourselves. And we do have a family." Bam! It lets John be rueful without rewriting the past or having Dean swallow all the years of hurt and it even acknowledges that knowing how to hunt isn't a bad thing.

Thank you for sticking with the recap to the end! I do still intend to recap past episodes but things have been kind of stressful. Just staying afloat has been a chore some days.

For updates and info you can check here: https://www.gofundme.com/winter-rent-and-dog-care

I also have a virtual tip jar of sorts here: https://www.paypal.me/tippiblevins

#spn snark #supernatural #spn recap #tippitv #recaps #lebanon

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kaijuthorned · 5 years ago

Text

CHARACTER SHEET repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME. Madison Russell NICKNAME / ALIAS. Maddie, Shortstack (but you say that and she’ll break your femur) GENDER. Female HEIGHT. 5′2 AGE. 14 ZODIAC. Gemini LANGUAGES. English. (And sometimes Kaiju.)

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR. Dark brown EYE COLOR. Brown SKIN TONE. Light BODY TYPE. Small ACCENT. General American VOICE. Soft spoken (unless she’s yelling at you or a three-headed false dragon) DOMINANT HAND. Right. POSTURE. Usually always wearing a jacket with her hands tucked into the pockets. Otherwise, she stands pretty straight. SCARS. Some minor ones from fights, no matter what verse she’s in, because she will always pick fights. TATTOOS. None. BIRTHMARKS. None. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). A rat’s nest of hair she never bothers to brush.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH. Boston. HOMETOWN. San Francisco. BIRTH WEIGHT. the average birth weight for babies is around 7.5 pounds ig BIRTH HEIGHT. fuck off w/ this MANNER OF BIRTH. Natural. FIRST WORDS. idk uh probably fuck knowing her SIBLINGS. Andrew Russell (deceased) PARENTS. Emma Russell (deceased) and Mark Russell PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. Her parents were mostly supportive of her in her early years, but she hadn’t even really entered school before her brother was killed. After his death, her parents slowly drifted apart, her mother delving so much into her work she was mostly ignored, and her father becoming such an alcoholic he could no longer take care of her. From early days, she had to fend for herself when it came to taking care of herself. Soon enough, her father up and left, only leaving Madison with her mother, where she became fully involved in Monarch and its projects.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION. She’s too young to have a real job, but she helps with a lot of projects her mom used to do. CURRENT RESIDENCE. She used to live in a condo near where Mothra’s temple is, but she now lives with her father in a lakeside cabin. CLOSE FRIENDS. None. (ok i kid it’s verse dependent, usually. But her closest friend is Michael Wheeler, aka. @troublewheeler and she hates him ig) RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single. (for now) FINANCIAL STATUS. Probably too upper class for her own good. Monarch paid her mother well and continued to pay her after her mother’s death for compensation, but she’d rather live modestly, if not less than that. She doesn’t really care for enough of her items. The most valuable thing she really owns is her laptop. DRIVER’S LICENSE. No. (do u really want this angry child to drive?) CRIMINAL RECORD. I mean she stole a government device and made a big dragon really angry. Does that count? VICES. A tendency to not take care of herself, even when bleeding or in pain.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. Biromantic. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. no. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. no!! LIBIDO. please go home TURN ONS. die? TURN OFFS. definitely not LOVE LANGUAGE. Quality time, Words of Affirmation and Physical touch. (shes rlly touchy and soft when u actually get to know her) RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. She’s really aggressive and harsh, and if that doesn’t scare you away from being her friend, you might have a chance. When looking for affection, she tends to just stick her nose in your business, or move herself in your way. Self sacrifice is practically her middle name, and she is incredibly protective over her partners. Will literally fist fight anyone that even insults them. She’s supportive and will follow any of her partners to the ends of the earth.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Sorry - Halsey HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Studying local wildlife, experimenting with broken equipment and repairing other’s things. She does practice Boxing in her free time as well, and regularly spars military officials to hone her defensive skills. MENTAL ILLNESSES. A lot of PTSD. Sounds like gunfire can send her into an immediate panic, and most movies involving war will make her physically ill. There was a lot of depression following her mother’s death, and even had to be monitored by her father at some bad points. Insomnia usually follows. (this little girl is 14 and has the symptoms of a fucking war veteran i-) PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. A building did collapse on her, so she has some minor health issues, like occasionally having her hands shake, twitching for no reason, and extremely overactive reflexes. If you point it out, she instantly becomes irritable. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. wtf theres like only one brain PHOBIAS. Abandonment and the dark. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. She has a usually high confidence in herself, especially when it comes to her abilities as a scientist. VULNERABILITIES. Holds some really serious grudges. If you mention stuff she’s upset about, especially in a fight, she gets reckless and loses her footing.

TAGGED BY. stolen from @riftmeanewverse TAGGING. u, bitch

#𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴; 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 - headcanons

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lettalady · 6 years ago

Photo

All in the Family

[image 1]

The Criminals: The Marchand Clan

Sampson - [faceclaim: Luke Evans] The eldest of the siblings. The rest of them trail after him, learning from his example - absorbing both the good and the bad.

Jude - [faceclaim: Michael Fassbender] Second oldest of the brothers. Great mind for finance, but horrible at strategy or he would’ve ventured out on his own years ago.

‘Lucky’ - [faceclaim: JJ Feild] Lucas, older than his twin by ever important seconds. Most frequently hip deep in some sort of mess, with Mop not far behind him. Neither ever claiming fault. Both probably equal to blame.

‘Mop’ - [faceclaim: Tom Hiddleston] The other twin. Arguably more of the a level head, except when he’s not. Quick reflexes make him the natural choice for getaway driver. Drives everything like he stole it, which, he probably did.

‘A’ - [faceclaim: Brie Larson] The youngest sibling. Her brothers shipped her off to school, hoping to nurture her abilities with technology rather than allow her to keep following in their wake. Perhaps the family’s last chance for one of the kids to walk the straight & narrow, if there was any such hope to begin with. Now she’s home & intent to pick up right where she left off, in the middle of it with her brothers.

[image 2]

The Law: EUROPOL

Henry Baer - [faceclaim: Chris Evans] Europol Investigator who is somehow always one step behind the Marchand clan. He’ll get them one day, slowly but surely closing the gap on their lead.

Felicite Gaspard - [faceclaim: Karen David] Tech support & sometimes partner to Baer. Happiest at the terminal, but beginning to love chasing the Marchands in the field.

Charles Davenport - [faceclaim: Lee Pace] Europol supervisor. Determined to bring down big names on his watch. With Baer & Gaspard tasked with the Marchand clan, he’s sure to get a win soon.

Sophia Sloane - [faceclaim: Emma Thompson] Director of Davenport’s division. He may throw his weight around demanding teams or funds for cases, but she makes the final call. She tell him when to sit, stay or heel.

Eli Vasso - [faceclaim: Oded Fehr] Tactical & field support to the agency. Call him when you need backup on a job & there’s no time for power plays. Blink and he’ll be there with bells on, sporting all the latest toys.

[image 3]

A is the youngest of five, and the only girl, too. Her older brothers drive her to do more, to be better. But what if she doesn’t want to be better? What if she just wants to follow along in their footsteps? To be allowed to join them on their less-than-legal ventures? Sometimes it’s a pain that whatever Sampson says, goes.

Over the last few years her brothers have tormented the man at Europol who has been chasing them. Henry Baer - they call him Hank - can’t catch a break, or them. Which is a good thing.

But then a job all but falls into her brothers’ laps. Jewels on a train, the stones just begging to be lifted and worth enough that Sampson can’t resist.

[images of loose stones under a magnifier, and in someone’s palm]

One small problem - the family’s usual hacker won’t touch the job. He steadfastly refuses to be involved, and he’s got every right. It stinks of a setup.

Good job A has secretly been honing her skills, prepping for just such a chance. One job. It’s all she needs to prove to her brothers she’s good enough to run with them.

It takes all manner of convincing but Sampson finally caves. It’s utilizing the skills of his little sister or giving up on the job - and that’s not an option. She just needs to remotely delay the train after it leaves the station. Easy as pie.

[image of a schematic of a passenger train]

[image 4]

Despite what Henry Baer may think the Marchand boys don’t have it in for him. They just - find it a little funny to see Hank try so hard to be a step ahead only to continually trail in their wake.

[image of Baer sitting in a booth looking a little pensive and a lot worn through]

He’s got them this time though. All because Gaspard kept at it, kept pouring through every little detail. All the jobs the Marchands liked to take, every time the family escaped him. It was going to pay off this time. This time he will be one up on the boys. This time he’ll be the one wearing the eat-shit grin - giving them the long-overdue salute as they’re being driven away in cuffs.

Gaspard maybe wasn’t meaning for him to take it this far, but her suggestion had been spot on. If the Marchands scented such a huge percentage out there for the taking, they simply wouldn’t be able to resist.

He’s so sure of this operation, that Sampson, Jude, Mop and Lucky will be there and finally apprehended, that he’s staking his career on it. With Gaspard in his ear and the gems locked away in an uncrackable safe a mere two connecting cars away, there’s nothing that can go wrong. He’ll wait until Gaspard gives him confirmation that the Marchands are on board and he’ll fold up his newspaper and saunter down to give the boys the warmest greeting he can muster.

He’s even wearing a suit for the occasion.

Go big or go home, right?

[image of Baer seated in a passenger seat, reading a newspaper]

[image 5]

So Sampson said she was supposed to remotely control the train. Where was the fun in that? And why listen, when the others got to be on the train during the heist, as well. Everyone except for Mop... Someone had to be waiting in the car at the next station, after all.

All A had to do was find a quiet compartment and wait it out. A few keystrokes on her tablet and there’d be a slight delay to everyone’s day. {Sorry, all. But not really sorry at all.}

[image of a woman holding a tablet in her lap]

It wasn’t until after the train left the station, until a man she recognized sat down in the opposite end of the train car from her, that A considered maybe Sampson had had a very good reason to insist on her operating remotely.

Henry Baer. In the flesh. Looking a great deal less like the bumbling paper pusher from her brothers’ stories and a bit more... quietly handsome? Striking in his slacks and jacket. If she were allowing herself to get distracted from the job.

Which she wasn’t. At all. And definitely wasn’t considering swapping seats to move closer to the man her brothers called Hank. If she was considering it, it was for the job, for the benefit of her brothers’ success. It she needed to run interference it would best benefit all for her to be closer rather than further away.

The thought of Sampson’s face was what did it. If she could gloat over the fact that she had tagged Baer? Saunter in and announce that the boys could track their ‘nemesis’ with a simple app. So what if she’d have to get close? Maybe slide into the row of seats opposite and strike up a conversation...

It would be for the greater good.

#All in the Family #wherein the writer brain says: oh you already have so many WIPs? what's one more #wanted to try something a little different in terms of storytelling #so yea if there are spelling errors it's cause I'm not using spellcheck #other than my brain which means yeeeaaaa hit or miss #yall might be in for it sorry guys hope I caught everything #all the faceclaims for this one too should I even bother tagging them out? lordy lordy #what the hell might as well list them out at least the main two for the story #imagine chris evans #imagine brie larson

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hiimaprofessionalfangirl · 6 years ago

Text

A list of wild quotes from my freshman year

It’s that time again kids

“WRONG”

“Why is it wrong?” “Because it’s wrong?”

“Never get in a rotten egg fight kids”

“THERES A FUCKING TREE BRANCH IN THE LIVING ROOM”

“Look how veiny my leaf is”

“Coffee is my dad”

“Ariel castrate and the Austrian dickhead”

“Sleep is just death without the commitment”

“Is this a vine?”

“I ate some ice cream and then threw up in an alley way”

“I bleached my hair on a bet”

“Do snakes jump”

“We’re gonna watch the magic school bus”

“She did not consent to that!”

“Is it weird that when I hurt I hurt”

*eats a donut I found under a desk*

“We’re struggling together”

“ooo it’s almost time to skedaddle”

“Grass is a superfood”

“THEY WERE LESBIAN LOVERS MIGUEL”

“Do moths have penises?”

“We only stan cardboard paper in this town.” “Aka school fries”

“Give me Hayley kiyoko or give me death”

“I’m a pretty cool error too”

“Time can eat me”

“I’m as straight as a dick”

“19 isn’t a real number”

“3 is evil”

“Weird flex but ok” (coming from our 22yr old student teacher who didn’t understand memes)

*faintly in a silent hallway* “PUSSY”

“God is actually an alien, change my mind”

“You promised me you’d throw me out the window”

“Passing period is rebirth”

“Science can meet me in the pit”

“She has 2008 eyebrows”

“What’re you gonna do, send dick pics through audio”

“bro omg nihilism radiates off of u its inspiring”

“I threw up twice, I just wanted to let you know”

“Tell me the secrets of the universe u little knock off kermit”

“so u have a frog in ur head and I have a demonic entity, that’s pretty fuckin wild dude”

“The bubble just suicide bombed two other bubbles”

“Stop hyperventilating into a glove”

“Can u calm down I’m trying to eat my cereal”

*opens the door* “no”

“My teacher drop kicked a mouse” (coming from my cousin who goes to a super elite private catholic school)

“A sweet loving hardass, but a hardass nonetheless.”

“Seductively bites yogurt”

“I don’t wanna work as an exorcist ew”

“I guess it wasn’t traffic”

“I don’t care about your job making fake eggs in the 70s”

“Chug 15 olive oils”

“You’re invalid as a human being”

“I just wanna astral project myself into the sun”

“Can I uninstall my teeth”

“I’m going to remove the roof of my mouth” *takes out retainer*

“I’m craving both death and Oreos right now”

“Can you strangle a fish”

“Honey your dick is holding you back”

“I want wall”

“I was proud of you until you finished your sentence”

“Aside from wanting to uninstall my teeth now I want to uninstall my legs”

“Welcome to the calculator game”

“Last hour I got an open container of applesauce thrown at me”

“He looks like a compacted adult”

“Hot food for TIM”

“Did my mom drug my lasagna”

“What just happened?” “My retainer fell out”

“Why are there beans in my chair”

“Shakespeare was a wild card”

“I want a full complement of death”

“Mr Rice you’re a skinny legend”

“Wack? I haven’t heard that since I was in middle school”

“Carrot got yoted”

“Devoreing”

*turns around* “ms Elliott looks like a turtle”

“Purchase one cancer”

“A plateau of a person”

“I’m gonna drink stem cells”

“Is I’m too depressed for this an excuse”

“Sparkling water is just cursive water”

“No one cares about your friends stupid leg nipple”

“If you put wings on your snake rat it a goose”

“My eyeballs have low render distance”

“Ah good, no new bloodstains”

“Bruce banner and all 7 of his PhDs are disappointed in me for not paying attention in biology”

“I think Shakespeare had a foot fetish”

“Instead of marrying Romeos corpse she could marry Paris’s corpse”

“I stole a ring pop from the teacher for you, if that isn’t true love I don’t know what is”

“If your feet come off you’re out”

“You’re thick and not in the good way”

“Is that your answer to everything? Use the knife”

“yeet yeet skittly skeet”

“my mike and Ike’s were definitely laced with acid”

“2 + 1 is 3 you’re stupid”

“We’re gonna 2v1 Shakespeare in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am”

“Real homies eat each other’s legs”

“Ok we have a definitive answer, it is necrophilia”

“why isn’t there a copy and paste button for paper”

“Quit throwing it you ding dong”

“Why does the door sound like bagpipes”

“Are you gonna die in my class or something”

“Just so you know I hear in 4 dimensions”

“Why do I always get stuck with the Texas bitches”

“Fuck my math class this is purgatory”

“You would be a door knob”

“I wanna be a chair”

“That just makes my insides happy”

“I smell,,,,,,,,,,,, a Democrat”

“I found a baby!”

“I’d be the Michael Phelps of doggy paddling”

“Shows before hoes”

“Mother I come to you in my time of need, I need money”

“Big boy posters”

“He just yeeted a bike”

“What kind of 3rd grader insult”

“I play croquet!”

“I cry into my skull”

“He has more hair than brain cells”

*as we enter our history class* “Hello Sophia squared!”

“then it’s just pork squared”

“Elbows are the knees of your feet”

“sounds like mentos for demons”

“You can delete my joints but you can’t delete me”

“I’m predisposed to getting my joints deleted”

“He looks like fucking fletcher from ant farm”

“he wants to be a fuckboi but he’s actually a whore”

“We’re all eboys inside”

“The wind is blowing all the hair I don’t have”

*blows whistle aggressively*

*blows whistle* “I bought it off eBay”

“Switch bitches”

*whistle blows* “YOU SUCK”

“Good job mckell you made it to a base” “oh fuck you”

“You have not lived until you’ve had a whole stalk of rhubarb up your ass!”

“THE GOVERNMENT”

“If I get kidnapped and the guy is hot just diagnose me with Stockholm syndrome already”

“I am just joints”

“School can vore itself”

“Face like teeth”

“I’m short, unathletic and unwilling to try”

*after getting hit in the face* “are you ok” “no but my glasses are and that’s all that matters”

“your virginity or every single one of your toes”

“Thanos broke my dick”

“I’m sorry I have tits”

“Maybe the ball and trash can have magnets in them, and that’s why it keeps landing on the trash can”

“Dumbass with the fuckin sandals”

“It’s Han Han tiddy croissant, get it right”

“My name is Shaka oovka and I know god”

“But this is raspberry pez”

“Gimme your elbows”

*to my mom* “Geometry is propaganda”

“It’s tissue paper not crack you idiot”

“Jack owes the government all of its money”

“You want my nuts”

“I’d like to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for an imitation of jack”

“because the government is tired of me being gay on the internet so they shut down my phone”

“Don’t lick my son Annora”

“I set a playground on fire”

“Stacy’s mom, damn them tiddies”

“Layla just dipped on me and made out with a 17 year old in the bathroom

*sits down* “I look like a horse girl”

“Freddie Mercury died from cooties”

“WAIT BECAUSE OF THE RULER INCIDENT”

tagging @eggtissue so she can see our beautiful creation

#school stuff #high school #funny quotes #a shit ton of quotes from my first year if high school #soph memes #soph quotes #memes

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trialtribandtestimony · 6 years ago

Text

His Mercy

A lot of the time we find ourselves asking, "is there really hope for that person?". Usually not thought aloud, but we can see someone so deep in despair it's almost impossible to imagine them any other way. When I look back on my life, that's how I view where I was at.

What was my life like before Christ? Well defining what that means is difficult. Honestly my story starts even before my birth. I was conceived out of wedlock and I was born to my mother when both of my parents were 19. A wedding was set in place before my birth but was canceled at the last second by the grace of God. My mother had been made aware of how disgusting a man my father, Michael, really was and didn't even want him in the room when I was born quite understandably.

Of course when I was born many a court case took place. My last name, custody rights, and etc. My mother was genuinely scared for my safety, along with my grandparents, because my father already was a drug user. The judge decided that, and he stated, my father would "grow out of it", and granted him visitation. The judge was wrong, and this decision has affected my life ever since. But I believe that this decision was not an accident, I don't believe God's plan is an accident at all. He works all things for good.

Despite the chaos of events when I was a baby, my early childhood years were not anything particularly bad. All of my special talents started emerging, I loved to act, sing, and paint. I had a vast inner world which still exists. I was quite outrageous and special to my family, out of a difficult situation I felt like a blessing. I would sing to strangers in the grocery store and capture the heart of everyone I met. I was saved at four years old, my grandmother genuinely believing I knew what I was asking for and I believe she was right. That's why my testimony really isn't about my life "before" Christ. He died on the sins for all of the world, my name was written in the book of life before the earth was set in motion, Jesus was always there because according to Calvinism (a philosophy I heavily agree with) he knew the decision I would make to follow him. Unfortunately tragic events would make me question that decision in a few years to come.

When I became about 8 years old it seemed like everything started hitting me at once from every possible angle. My mother would get divorced from her husband whom was the father of my sister. My third grade teacher noted to my mother that every-time id come home from Michael's house I would become extremely pale. I physically started to become extremely thin. At this age my father's controlling tendencies consumed him and increasingly became worse. He would force me to watch demonic horror movies, I'd cry because of how traumatizing it would be and tell my mom, but unfortunately she didn't have much control over those things which terrified me. My mom was always my superhero, and realizing that not even my mom could protect me rocked my world. I believe this is the time period he started using heavier drugs, but many memories are fuzzy and still blocked out to this day. This is when his behavior became worse, but the true intentions and twisted behavior started to appear. He pawned all of my Christmas presents, begged people for money on the street, stole children's bikes for drug money

How did I cope with feeling utterly powerless? I became obsessed with weather. I would check the weather on my computer every day before school. I recall writing a goodbye letter to my mother during a storm in third grade one day because I genuinely thought I was going to die. I was consumed in fear and weather was the only way my child brain could rationalize it.

Another difficulty at this age was that I had undiagnosed ADHD. I have type two, which is inattentive, which means I'm not hyperactive, just deeply consumed in my own world at all times. I have always felt I was on autopilot about 75% of my life. A combination of both adhd and anxiety meant I failed to thrive at school. I had to sit out during recess every day because I couldn't do my homework. That's when I remember first feeling depression in my life. So because I had to sit out, and visitation every other weekend with my father, I was not socialized at all. In fact, when I was at my father's house I wasn't allowed to even play with my cousins. I remember looking out the window crying and crying because I was not allowed to go into the backyard on the trampoline. Ever. I still suffer with social integration, I've always wanted many friends and to talk to people, and I know what to say but it always comes out odd to me. I missed out on fun adventures and bonding with kids my age, and that lead to me never really having any friendships, honestly to this day I'm still not sure how to make friends which is horribly embarrassing to me and always was. The one time I was allowed to have a birthday party at Michael's house, a few friends from my elementary school came to a pool party I had. We jumped on the trampoline in our bathing suits, as Michael pulled out a random camera to take pictures. My step mom told him it was odd but he wouldn't stop taking pictures of me and my friends.

This would continue into middle school, when the abuse also started to happen. At first in my elementary years it was psychological. "Always make sure to lock your doors, someone will break in and kill you", I can still hear my father say over and over. Forcing me to watch the lovely bones, a movie about a girl getting kidnapped and molested as I panicked watching it as a young child in absolute fear. Now he became physically and sexually abusive as well as psychological. What went along with this was people being invited to friend's sleepovers which I was NEVER allowed to attend, and watching other kids my age form groups as I sat alone for lunch every day.

Around this time I recall starting to self harm, I didn't even really know what it meant at that point. I would get a comb and scrape my arms with it just to relieve intense fear I experienced. I had frequent stomach aches, not knowing what the concept of anxiety even was. I was skinny, pale, and always felt sick. I barely ever ate. My two younger siblings were born and he threatened to throw them down the stairs, and often neglected them. When my stepmom would leave for work I had to change their diapers and feed them. If I didn't, Michael would let them sit in their filth all day. One of my brothers developed selective mutism from the abuse and fear caused by Michael. I tried to care for them as much as a 10 year old could.

In this time period, about 6-7th grade I remember Michael using drugs and alcohol clearly. He would talk to himself while intoxicated and make absolutely no sense. He would claim to see demons, which may have actually been considering his involvement with psychics and satanic movies and music and necrophilia he watched. This is when the actual event of molestation happened but I will save the gory details on that. He would often tell my stepmother at the time odd and inappropriate remarks about my appearance as I grew older, and that I would grow up to be a prostitute. One time I wore skinny jeans and he talked to me for hours about how inappropriate that was and what boys at school would think. I was not allowed to wear shorts that were above my knees or any colorful clothing.

At this point I found a youth group I loved. I was supposed to see Michael on Wednesday nights, but I told him I just wouldn't go. He'd have to move it. So he demanded I see him Tuesday AND Thursday instead. I said fine, because this feeling I got from God is something I'd never had before in my life. I remember listening to "How He Loves" and bawling my eyes out as my father sent threatening texts to my mom. I brought a friend that night, and somehow he found her parent's phone number and called them saying that my mother took us to church on his visitation time. Because of his psychotic actions she was no longer allowed to hang out with me. But just in that chaotic moment and listening to the song "How He Loves", That became God's love song to me, and he has played it during significant times in my life ever since. God gave me this comfort that I could cling to, a comfort of hymns and nursery rhymes and bible stories like I had as a child. I experienced His absolute precious love which is just inexplicable.

During this time the abuse increasingly became worse with the drug use. He would drive me and my siblings around drunk in the middle of the night. He would stalk me as I slept and never really leave me alone. He would walk into the bathroom and stay in there while I showered. At this point I had developed severe depression and anxiety. All I could think about was escape. I escaped with boyfriends and art and music. I had one boyfriend who my father found out was African American, and called his number leaving a message of racial slurs on my phone to his number. A phone my mother bought me that he stole from me when I tried to bring it with me to his house.

My mom called CPS (again) when I told her I'd kill myself, (at age 11), if I ever had to see Michael again. There was not enough evidence to support a case so it was dropped. I prayed and prayed, and mentors in my life had prayed for me as well. This may sound odd but I could feel certain times where they currently prayed for me. And then, a miracle happened. Michael signed over his rights.

My family on his side no longer talked to me. During this time my ex stepmom divorced Michael and took my two brothers and had a restraining order filed. My family on that side didn't support her, and I was not in contact with her yet, she was forced to live in a shelter for a while because of the absolute neglect on my father's side of the family. Luckily now we got back in contact and she is my absolute best friend and I get to see my brothers whenever I please. But back to the fact that they divorced- Michael had an arrest record made public online of his drug use. It was getting worse. He became homeless, voluntarily living on the streets, but still using payphones to harass my mother and ex stepmom. He would steal pictures from my mother's Facebook of me and say, "she has my eyes" and post them online, which still haunts me. He would threaten to break in or harm us, and he threatened to kill his own parent's dog. His mother tried to get in contact with me, she told my mom that he got into an accident, looking for sympathy or something. The accident was that he overdosed on drugs. They claimed he fell off a bridge, but later confirmed to me it was drug related

The one friend I did have was my cousin, who to this day has no communication with me. She was my only friend when I had none. Even after my mom trying to make contact, and seeing them at my grandfather's funeral, no one believed my story of abuse.

I thought my pain was over. I was FREE. I could forever live with my mom and go to church and have friends. Unfortunately it just didn't turn out that ideally.

I still had depression and anxiety. It didn't go away. I still didn't know how to make friends, I started to become bullied and changed schools frequently. Now the suicidal ideation would come to play at age 13-14. I still believed in God but I just felt so hopeless. I believe the only reason I never fully attempted suicide was because the Holy Spirit left this lingering light in my heart. It was inexplicable, but it was there. Something just told me to look up to the heavens, no matter how dim and dreary the sky may be.

Despite this hope my mind was broken. I started my 9th grade year in an outpatient school, where I met my therapist who has been a gift from God. This school was for high risk suicidal adolescents, no phones were allowed and we were patted down on the daily. It was quite dreary but here I learned about coping skills and boundaries which were crucial for me to learn, I still didn't get the concept for a few years and honestly I'm still improving on these things. I was quite codependent on boyfriends I had and didn't know how to talk myself down from panic attacks that produced frequent vomiting and dizziness almost daily.

After outpatient I went to high school, but not much changed. I felt so alone, even with the few friends I did have. I felt like no one really still understood me, I felt suicidal again and went to inpatient. This honestly didn't change much for me, and I had to go to inpatient again not long after. It's basically just 24 hour supervision for high risk patients.

I just couldn't cope with feelings of isolation and not receiving the love I would find in Christ. I hopped from relationships which made me feel even worse, although I regret nothing and I learned quite a lot, some of which as a teen produced lifelong friends. I started to hurt other people, something I NEVER wanted to do in my wildest dreams. I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I started experimenting with different things and engaging in risky behavior. I just kept trying to fill the hole in the pit of my stomach. On a bad trip I had with a drug I tried, I had to go to the hospital. I never was addicted to drugs but recreationally tried things at parties which I shouldn't have dabbled with, but God used it to bring me back to him. All I remember with this trip is feeling so far from God and so so scared. No thoughts went through my head and I thought I would have a seizure. My mind was completely blank. When the ambulance arrived I sobbed as I called my grandfather and family to meet me. Their disappointment was the worst thing I would ever face in my life. The still loved me, but they were heartbroken. In the ride to the hospital I cried out to the EMT, "is God going to forgive me?" It's all I could ask as I sobbed and violently shook. He told me God will always love me in response, and I will always be grateful for the sensitive nature of that man, I could almost start bawling while even writing this. The sedative they gave me was supposed to make me forget but I never forgot that man's kindness.

You would think this would revert me right back to God but not entirely. I faced YEARS of abuse, and it would take years to know who I even really was, being allowed to be myself. I never tried anything like that and will never again, but then codependency reared it's ugly face into my life. Luckily in this time period though I still searched for God and prayed to Him. I read a book called The Shack which forever changed my view on Him, (highly recommend it.). I felt the Holy Spirit in my life but I couldn't let go of the control I needed. So what did I do? I ran.

First I ran to a new school. It was an alternative school but you could go at your own pace. For once I could do work in the way my brain functioned and I made A's, and graduated at 16 years old. I then went to cosmetology school, swicthed schools again, and finished it out even though the environment there was extremely toxic and self-indulgent in an appareance and narcissistic way that I started to loathe. During this time my paternal grandfather passed away. I attended the funeral along with my stepmother and brothers, mother and sister. We weren't allowed to sit with the family during the funeral. My paternal grandfather was extremely racist and homophobic, and also a Baptist Sunday school teacher. The whole funeral they bragged about how godly he was. I just wanted to shout "if only you knew the vile disgusting secrets of this family!" But God gave me the grace to be respectful during this time, so I was silent. When my father was notified of his father's passing, he stated "I'm hungry. I want Arby's." Shortly after the funeral my paternal grandmother took me out for my 18th birthday to Chili's. I thought this was a time to reconcile, so I accepted trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. During the dinner she tried to claim it was my fault Michael turned out this way, and it was horrible of me to not speak to them before my grandfather's passing and not to see Michael after the "accident". She said a phrase I've heard all throughout my life. "You need to forgive and move on." How could I possibly move on from a thorn that grew with me as I aged? This pain had become who I was. But I told her the honest truth. "I did forgive him long ago. I wish no harm upon him. It's just unsafe for me to speak to him." She couldn't grasp the concept of forgiving at a distance, which is something very important to learn, and it helped me move on in a sense, but some tragedies cannot just be forgotten. After that she has tried to make contact with me, but I have not spoken to her. This decision was not because I have any ill intentions towards her, I really hope she gets help. I just can't be the one to help her learn about boundaries, and she shows no remorse for her involvement and defense of Michael. I don't need an apology but I feel that would be necessary to move on in a relationship with her, just so I know she wouldn't be toxic for my health and well-being.

I moved out of Texas to Colorado with my parents. I felt alone, so I ran to Chicago at age 18 with a man I barely knew. Then something just clicked. I will never get this love and attention I seek from a human being, it's just not possible. I moved back to Texas and jumped into another relationship even with knowing this information. I wanted to date around but on the first date I fell absolutely in love.

This person often ignored me and abandoned me for days, yet all I could do was try to make him love me for so long. I would sit in my room and sob. Who could help me? Not a hospital, not a drug, not even my own family or myself. After he broke up with ME, (thank God because I wouldn't have broken up with him at the time), I started going back to church and I found a job. I became a hard worker and just started to seek God and pray everyday. What's to lose? My skepticism and cynical heart started to burn off like deadwood.

This job became extremely stressful, so I sought God even more (along with returning to see my therapist who I saw for years). One night after a particularly stressful Wednesday afternoon a call was made to the altar, and something just told me to go. I asked my grandma to go with me though because I was too scared to go alone, which she did. I started sobbing because once again, God spoke to me. "Why don't you trust me like you did when you were a child? Don't you know I will hold you? Just lean on me, I won't disappoint you.". I figured hey I had nothing to lose, and decided to take that risk.

I met a pastor at my church named Dr.Marti, and started many amazing friendships as I was prayed over after a service of other's testimonies. Dr.Marti stayed many prophetic things about me that night and wanted me to take part in Bethesda School Of Ministry, which I desperately wanted to do, but was unable to because of my job. Then came a blessing in disguise- I was let go from the job. When I was let go I asked God "what am I supposed to do?, I know you work all things for good and this has some kind of meaning but what do I take from this?" , and I heard a clear voice state "remain in me". Odd. Not a way I'd word something in my head, quite frankly I didn't understand. The next day on my Bible app a scripture I didn't recall every reading was John 15:4 "Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." Needless to say I was shocked. I see now I lost this job in order to take part in ministry school at Bethesda while I could. I learned not only how to minister to others, but these codependent tendencies were restored into learning about healthy boundaries and how to be happy AND alone with God. (Also confirmed by Dr.Marti who stated she had a feeling God wanted me to be like a nun for a while. I laughed because if only she knew how true I knew that was.) So many behaviors in my life started to change, along with perspectives. I became patient, enduring, developed a sound mind, and fruits of the spirit. I learned not how to be normal, but how to find my unique identity in Jesus. The raw, blunt yet sensitive, fighting-for-the-underdog, intellectual, philosopher, artistic yet gentle and kind person I was designed to be.

In the school of ministry one night I remember asking God to heal me, to make me who I was meant to truly be at last. I love God's sense of humor. Dr.Marti after giving a message on healing that Sunday night called all of the students to pray over anyone who needed it. I was shaking in my flats. I'd NEVER done that before. As soon as she called us, I heard a voice from God which made me laugh in awe. He said "You will be healed not by being anointed with oil, but by anointing others with oil." This symbolism showed that when I take the first step to seek God He will reward me and I will be made available to find His presence even more, which heals and delivers. I prayed for an elderly man, spilled a little too much oil on his face as it almost dripped in his eye, and smudged it in with my thumb sheepishly and cracked up about it later, but it was such a sweet moment.

So through God healing me, what's changed? Well, I still have depression and anxiety, and adhd. Could God deliver me from it? Yes. Will He? Maybe. But if it's in His will I carry these things so I serve others and am reminded to think about myself less and others more, than these things will remain until I'm given my new body and these illnesses did with my old body. However, my daily vomiting panic attacks turned into at most bi-monthly anxiety attacks, and suicidal ideations turned into bouts of random melancholy. After being told I functioned at a rate of 15% out of 100% at a mental hospital, and being told be a psychologist he's surprised I still function in society and haven't lost my sanity is pretty astonishing. When I told the psychologist my backstory he was amazed I was still standing, and quite frankly so am I. I believe with my whole heart it's only by the grace of God, and the help of my unconditional loving and supporting friends and family. I have a new job at the church daycare which I love, and I would like to pay off cosmetology school debt and start college soon to continue healing other's through Jesus's name and prayer like He called me to do in more abstract means like psychology, reaching every kind of person there is, innocent children or addicts and thieves.

I was promised life more abundantly and that promise was fulfilled more than I could ever imagine. God gave me impossible endurance, yet didn't make my heart cold and cynical despite all of life's circumstances, I give all glory to Him for always keeping me close and loving me no matter what. I don't know where we'll go together in the future, but as long as God is with me I will march on, praising Him for his one million "second" chances and grace. I feel that my "rebirth" was more of a process. It didn't happen overnight, but over a long stretch of time. I feel I have the freedom to actually chose who to be and what I want to do, and I am so grateful for this new chapter in my life.

#testimony #Christian #jesus #christ #easter #abuse #passover #trial #tribulation #god #lacey sturm #flyleaf #skillet #reflect love back

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lovinglohst · 6 years ago

Text

I Wanna Dance With Somebody: Chapter 1- The Shittiest Night Of Our Lives

Story Pairings: Boyf riends, Pinkberry, RichJake

Chapter Characters: Michael Mells, Brooke Lohst, Jeremy Heere

Chapter Warnings: Panic Attack (think that's it)

Summary: On the night of the Halloween Party, Michael is about halfway through having his infamous panic attack when Brooke comes tumbling into the bathroom, in the middle of her very own teenage angst. Michael lets her stay and the two sit in the bathtub and bond over their anger at their friends/super-mega-crushes. That’s when they get the idea to start fake dating to both get back at Jeremy and Chloe and win them over. Chaos, bonding, and gay ensue.

Authors’ Note: So we got this idea for a BMC fic and decided why not. To be absolutely clear- Michael and Brooke are not endgame. They’re just cute, platonic chaos gays. Enjoy! - Aly and Nik

AO3 Link

“He went crazy trying to get it out !”

The air in the bathroom turned ice cold. Michael could feel his heart beating in his chest rapidly as if he’d drank one can too many of Red Bull. It was hard for him to believe that the boy standing in front of him was the same boy who’d been his best friend since pre-school. Because the Jeremy Heere before him was almost unrecognizable.

“Then I have nothing to worry about. Why would I want that?” The words cut into him, and Michael could feel small cracks forming in his heart. Jeremy looked away from him, jaw set as he moved for the door. Michael moved with him, refusing to let this go. Jeremy was going to end up hurt if he didn’t do something. He just had to make him listen . “Move.”

“Or you’ll what?”

“Get out of my way. Loser. ” Michael stared directly into those blue eyes. They were as cold as ice, glaring into Michael’s like he was a bug under his shoe. His chest felt heavy, his heart beginning to ache as it tried to jump from his chest. Holding back thick tears, he moved out of Jeremy’s way silently. The boy brushed past him, purposefully knocking Michael’s shoulder with his own as he left Michael behind. He didn’t even glance back, slamming the door shut. Michael flinched at the sound, letting out a shaky breath. His entire body felt numb as he stared at the wall blankly. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, hecouldn’tbreathe- whycouldn’thebreathe-

“Hello?!” A sharp knock cut through the air, pulling Michael from his daze. “Some of us have to pee!”

“I’m having my period!” He called weakly, wanting to slam his face into the wall. Idiot, absolutefuckingidiot .

“...Take your time honey.” The voice answered gently, and Michael let out another ragged breath. He needed to sit down. His legs could barely hold him upright, his knees like jelly. He felt around blindly, his hand curling around the cool, porcelain of the bathtub. He guided himself into it, breath coming in short, rapid gasps.

He felt pathetic -he was pathetic- sitting here all by himself. He was in a fucking bathroom at the biggest party of the year, while Jeremy was out there having the time of his life. He’d probably found someone new to hang out with, someone to replace Michael. Like he was some broken toy.

The thought made him begin to shake uncontrollably, his vision narrowing till all he saw was the smooth bottom of the tub, his ears filled with the loud thumping of his still racing heart and some girl singing to a Whitney Houston song outside the door. The type of girl he and Jeremy would usually make fun of…

Michael pulled his knees to his chest, burrowing his head in between them. He was going to be sick, he just knew it. Everything was so loud, tooloud- ohgoditwastooloudmakeitstopplease-

A sudden, high-pitched shriek made him jump, head snapping up to see-

Oh, you had to be fucking kidding me right now …

Standing in front of him was Brooke Lohst, in all her glory. She was wearing the skimpiest dog costume he’d ever laid eyes on, with almost everything on display. It was everything a teenage boy could’ve wanted. Except for him. Everything he’d ever wanted had just told him he was a loser and then left him without a second glance.

“What are you doing in here?” Brooke questioned, her voice hollow and broken. It was only then that Michael realized that she was crying. Her usually flawless makeup was coming down her cheeks in streaks, face flushed a depressing shade of red as she stared at him with as much poise as a crying girl in a poodle costume could muster. He stared at her for a minute, trying to get his voice box to work.

“Having the shittiest night of my life.” He answered finally, resting his chin on top of his knees. Brooke slowly raised her hand, wiping at the makeup-stained tear marks on her cheeks.

“Same.” They sat there in silence for a moment, Michael silently debating what to do. Sure he kind of hated Brooke- not only because she was a bully but because she stole Jeremy from him- but she looked as shitty as he felt, which was concerning.

“Do you… do you wanna get in the tub with me?” He asked hesitantly, watching Brooke’s face twist in disgust. He quickly realized how that sounded, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “N-Not like that. Just-”

Groaning, he buried his face back in his knees. He wanted the Earth to just open up and swallow him whole, just to get out of this awkward situation. After a few moments, he heard Brooke’s slow footsteps coming closer. Lifting his head, he watched as she lowered herself into the opposite end of the tub carefully. She pulled her almost completely bare legs to her chest, the tags on the collar around her neck jingling quietly as she placed her chin on her knees in a position that mirrored his.

This was officially simultaneously the worst and weirdest night of his life.

“Am I ugly or something?” Brooke asked suddenly, making Michael pause. When he didn’t offer a reply, Brooke gazed directly into his eyes with fresh tears already forming. “No, seriously? Like, am I just hideous to look at?”

Michael’s mouth opened and closed quite a few time before he could force the ‘no’ from his throat. Looking dissatisfied, Brooke wiped at her cheek again.

“Then what is it about me that makes guys want to cheat on me? I don’t get what’s wrong with me.” Her voice broke, fresh tears beginning to fall again. “I try so hard, so fucking hard so that people will like me. I’m beautiful, I’m popular, I’m on the honor roll. But it doesn’t even matter, does it? All anyone is ever going to see me as is ‘Brooke Lohst, second best’. My own supposed ‘best friend’ doesn’t even respect me enough to not screw the guys I’m dating! And I just-”

Brooke let out an ugly sob, placing a hand over her eyes. Tears continue to slide between her fingertips, the small droplets plopping quietly on to the tub’s white floor.

“I’ve had a crush on my best friend for four years,” He admitted quietly, turning away when Brooke’s green eyes found his. “And tonight, he basically told me that I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. E-Even after all the things we’ve been through. Twelve years of him being my friend- my only friend- and he just throws it all away.”

Michael didn’t take his gaze off the sink, though he could feel Brooke watching him still.

“It’s definitely not the same thing, but it sucks just as much,” He let out a hollow laugh, tears coming down his face even quicker. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Then I guess we’re both pretty pathetic.” She answered, and Michael finally turned to look at her. She gave him a sad smile, sticking out her ‘paw-glove’ clad hand. “Brooke Lohst.”

“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” He shook her hand, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the absurdity of the situation. He was in a bathtub, at a party with the second most popular girl at school. “I’m Michael Mell.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael.”

“I don’t get how this is supposed to help,” Brooke whined, stabbing her straw into her slushie. She looked completely ridiculous in a poodle costume, sat upon the hood of Michael’s shitty 2007 PT Cruiser and holding a bright blue slushie in the 7-11 parking lot at two o’clock in the morning. Michael sat beside her, slurping on his red one like it was the last one he’d ever have.

“The cold helps to freeze your heart so that you can’t feel any more pain.” Michael joked, shrugging sarcastically. Brooke giggled, taking a hesitant sip of the ice cold drink. “Good?”

“I like Pinkberry better,” She sighed, taking another long sip of the slushie. “But this is okay, for now.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Michael hummed, fiddling with his straw. Music was coming from his headphone, the faded sound of Bob Marley helping to fill the comfortable silence between the two.

“Tomorrow?” Brooke questioned, turning to look at him.

“O-Oh, I just kinda assumed- I mean-” Brooke giggled at his flustered expression, nudging him with her arm.

“I would love to hang out with you tomorrow. Not like I have anywhere else to be…” She trailed off quietly, staring at the bright neon sign on the store in front of them for a long while. “Do you…”

“Do I…?”

“Do you think that stupid computer made him cheat on me?” She asked, sounding a little hopeful. It had taken a while to convince Brooke about the SQUIP, mostly because of how ridiculous it sounded, but she'd quickly come around at the slight chance that yet another boyfriend cheating on her hadn't actually been her fault. Michael glanced down at her, straw between his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. That fucking thing is making Jeremy act all kinds of weird.” Michael's leg began to bounce, sitting still becoming to constricting. “Whoever that person is… it’s not Jeremy. Jeremy- the Jeremy I know- is kind, and funny and smart. I mean, yeah, he’s a bit of a tool sometimes- but he cares . He cares so much.”

Brooke blinks at him owlishly.

“You’re so gay it’s not even funny,” Brooke said finally, and Michael couldn’t help the laugh the ripped its way from his throat. Brooke joined in, giggling furiously. And in that moment, they weren’t the school stoner and the second-hottest girl in school. They were just Michael and Brooke, two very gay (bi, in Brooke’s case), very lonely kids who had found someone who understood them just a bit better than everyone else.

“You know what we should do?” Brooke gazed at him mischievously, laughter still bubbling in her throat.

“What?” Michael asked teasingly.

“We should date, just to make them jealous.” Michael looked at her sideways, tilting his head in confusion.

“Brooke, you realize I’m strictly into dudes, right? Like you’re amazing, don’t get me wrong. But you kinda don’t have the right… parts for me.”

Rolling her eyes, the girl slid off the hood of the car, dramatically placing her hands on her hips.

“I know that, silly. I didn’t mean we should actually date .” Brooke wrinkled her nose on the word, her tone suggesting she found the whole idea revolting.

“Feeling really flattered here, Lohst.” He said dryly, slurping his drink.

“You know what I mean! I just mean that we should pretend. Make them think we’re dating. Show them how happy we are without them!” Michael considered her words, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” He asked, considering the girl. She had a determined fire glowing in her green eyes, smirking at him like a wolf closing in on its prey. It was… unsettling to say the least.

“It worked for Chloe and Jake last year. She fake-dated Dustin Kropp to make him jealous, and they got back together the next month. It’s totally fool-proof!”

Despite Brooke’s confidence, Michael couldn’t help but feel a nervous pit in his stomach. It didn’t sound as simple to him as it probably did to Brooke. She’d dated a bunch of guys (and a girl or two) before, but Michael had only ever loved and wanted one person. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Not with Jeremy probably watching his every move.

But why would he watch you? He asked himself, feeling cold. He’s made it very clear that he thinks you’re beneath him. So why not make him regret it?

Looking at Brooke’s expectant face, he nodded firmly.

“I’m in.” He proclaimed determinedly. Brooke squealed loudly, throwing her arms around his neck roughly. Michael paused for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Brooke’s small frame. It felt nice to be hugged like this- like she cared about him. It had been a while since he and Jeremy had done something like that, his heart clenching at the thought. He held onto Brooke tightly for a long while, before pulling back reluctantly.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” She giggled, pulling back to smile at him brightly. She brandished her slushie at him proudly. “To our new relationship!”

Michael smirked a little, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“To our new relationship.”

Chapter 2 --->

#be more chill #boyf riends #pinkberry #richjake #tw panic attack #be more chill musical #fake dating au #be more chill fanfic #angst and fluff #michael in the bathroom #bmc i wanna dance with someone

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hannahhostofheaven · 6 years ago

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New Verses

Aside from my Main Verse Hannah, I now have two AU verses to play with if anyone is interested. This can all be found on Hannah’s Headcanon page:

https://hannahhostofheaven.tumblr.com/headcanons

Human Hannah: This is just your typical AU for Hannah as a human. For high school, college, or career centered AUs. Human Hannah grew up the middle kid of three girls. Her father Raphael is a single father and in the navy. Her mother died in a car accident when she was five. Her older sister Naomi pretty much raised her and her younger sister, Tessa. Naomi was a bully and a bit of a tyrant. Hannah was always shy and spent a lot of time in her room. She loves writing, reading, and day dreaming. She's lived in Japan, Germany, Boston, California, and Maine. Maine is where she was born but her father being in the military meant she moved around a lot. She loves travel, culture, and history. Her favorite books and shows are period dramas, and her favorite subjects include theology, anthropology, archaeology, and geology.

Naomi joined the navy and married her long term girlfriend, following in her father's footsteps while Tessa has gone from one bad relationship to another and always calls Hannah when it goes wrong. Hannah was a bit of a black sheep growing up. She rejected her father's strict belief in Christianity and became a pagan instead. She has been in the peace corps and spent time in Africa and South America. She has deep respect for the indigenous people of the world.

Apocalypse World Hannah

Apocalypse world Hannah has had a very different life then her real world counterpart. By the time of her tenth life, the life in which her counterpart had met and was working with Castiel, AP Hannah had been punished and broken to the point where she was ready to accept any of Raphael’s orders without question. But Raphael wasn’t exactly ready to trust her. She sent her to help oversee a concentration camp of humans which the angels were holding for labor and experimentation. AP Uriel and the evil torturer Castiel were in charge of this camp. When Hannah began to see how the humans were being treated, forced to live in squalor, she began secretly helping them. Every time she was caught smuggling food over the fence, AP evil Castiel tortured her in ways that topped even Raphael’s cruelty.

When AP Uriel was killed and evil Castiel was sent to deal with his real world counterpart and Charlie’s resistance, Hannah saw it as her chance. After opening the fence for the humans to escape, she two fled. She managed to get into the real world but she stole something important to Michael and he will be hunting for her.

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willelbyers · 7 years ago

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Just One Of Those Things

Summary: It’s always just been one of those things they don’t talk about.

Pairings: Will/Mike, past Mike/El, background Lucas/Max

Notes: It’s a future-fic, about 2,500 words. The Party basically figures out how to talk about what they already know.

Alternatively: Will and Mike hide and deflect, El doesn’t know how to differentiate herself and Jane, Max doesn’t want to pretend, that’s all Lucas wants to do, and Dustin is convinced he has Not-Superpowers.

This is posted on Ao3 here as well as written out below the cut. Enjoy!

There’s an unspoken rule in the Party, a specific dynamic they never address: we don’t talk about… that.

They don’t talk about the particular closeness between the two of them. They don’t mention how Will strives to live up to whatever expectations he thinks Mike has for him, how Mike does everything from writing more campaigns to reenacting Star Wars for the simple reason of needing to impress him. They don’t talk about how, in the year after the monster, Will always reaches for Mike first and Mike is always there to take his hand.

And even later, after everything, they don’t talk about the way Will has never said anything about or even looked at girls. Or the handful of phone calls to Will’s house Mike has answered or vice-versa. They don’t talk about Mike and El’s amicable (albeit awkward) breakup in tenth grade, or the unsettling three weeks about a month later when Will all but stays holed up in the library with Jennifer Hayes and Christopher Thomas as he flinches away from any of his friends (but especially Mike).

They don’t talk about the way Mike’s gaze lingers on him, always. They don’t talk about the movies the rest of the Party remain uninvited to, their classmates’ parties where the two of them will disappear for an hour or so and reappear later on only to look suspiciously ruffled, the way Mike hates sharing his clothes but Will always has a too-big sweater on anyway. They don’t talk about any of it.

Sometimes, it’s easy to pretend—forget, even—that it doesn’t happen at all.

Max throws a wrench in the plans. The Rule has been in place since, what, sixth grade? Seventh? Probably even earlier. Lucas can’t remember. But he knows that it was before she had gotten there. It’s not really her fault she doesn’t know.

Then again, it really should be obvious enough at this point—it’s been four years.

The only reason Lucas is thinking this, anyway, is because he’s stopped dead in the middle of the street, frozen, staring at his girlfriend.

“Well?” she prompts, and Lucas has to close his eyes for a moment to think about what has lead up to this moment.

They—the Party—had all gone to Jared Thompson’s house for some big Senior year blowout. Dustin, Max, and El had all staunchly voted yes to going. Lucas and Will said no, and then the eyes had turned to Mike. He had sighed, obviously thinking hard, before giving Will (specifically) a meaningful glance and muttering, “Fine.”

The three had cheered as Lucas complained and Will rolled his eyes, letting Mike sling an arm over his shoulders. No one noticed.

Then the party happened, and Max—avoiding alcohol like the plague even as Lucas stole Dustin’s drink and took a few sips (he wasn’t there by choice, he was going to enjoy himself, dammit!)—had eventually gotten tired, asking Lucas to walk her home. Seeing an out, he had agreed.

And then she’d asked: “So, what do you think the deal is between Mike and Will?”

And he had stopped, and now he’s here.

“What?” he manages to choke out.

Max rolls her eyes. “Lucas, come on. Seriously, is this some sort of weird game we all play? Michael and William. Wheeler and Byers. Paladin and Cleric. Nerd and nerd. Are we just going to pretend that we don’t see it happening in front of our eyes?”

He shakes his head, suddenly feeling dizzy. He’s never talked about it before, to anyone. He’d almost forgotten—but he remembers now, and it’s a little… much. “Max, this isn’t…”

She picks up the sentence where he’s trailed off. “What I think it is?” she asks. “Because I’m pretty sure it is. I didn’t see them for the last twenty minutes we were there, and apparently Jared’s back door was open. Three guesses as to who left, probably to go make out?”

“No,” he replies quickly, voice not cooperating. He coughs. “Also, gross. But… but, no, I. I was going to say that this isn’t California. It’s… it’s just… Hawkins.” The unspoken people won’t like it here doesn’t remain unheard.

She shoves her hands into her pockets. “Yeah. I know.” She swallows, hard, and Lucas can see the movement of her shoulders as they tense. Like there’s something else she wants to say. Instead of saying it, she shakes her head. “Lucas, I’ve been playing along with this whole thing since eighth grade. And, you know, that first real party we ever went to? Darby Templeton’s, in eleventh grade, last year? Like, a year after Mike and El broke up.”

“Yeah.”

“I played along then, too,” she admits. “I saw them, just for a second, sneaking off. Like always, now. But Will kissed Mike then, and just like I’m sure it had happened before, I’m sure that it’s still happening now.” She shakes her head. “I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening anymore. Because it is, and I…” She takes a breath, wind whipping her hair into her face. “Did you know?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think so?” He sighs, offering a hand for her to take. She does, and they begin to walk, taking slow steps down the street. “I guess… we just never talked about it. We just… never did. And they’ve always been close.” He hesitates. “I think I knew. But I convinced myself I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas realized helplessly. “It’s just… one of those things, I think.” He glances at her, guilty eyes darting away quickly. “Is that bad?”

She offers a small, sad smile. “I don’t think so, no.”

El earns her reputation—or, rather, Jane Hopper does. Wearing the mask that is Jane, El becomes an enigma at Hawkins High—quiet to the point she’s nearly silent, a math whiz, intense stare, curly hair sheared short with an odd array of clothes. It helps that she’s the daughter of the hot-tempered Chief of Police and the foster sister of The Boy Who Came Back To Life. She’s mysterious, and apparently boys “dig that” while girls “want to be that” (says Dustin, anyway). She couldn’t care less about boys, and she doesn’t think a girl could become any more beautiful by mimicking her, but she’s read enough books to know that yes, people do like mysteries.

Not to mention, karma really does seem to kick back around her. At least, that’s what the student body believes. For instance, on her first day of school, Troy had flicked a slur-filled note at the back of Will Byers’ head. Seconds after it had been unfolded, read, and crumpled again, the boy pulling in on himself, Troy had tripped over nothing. He lost three teeth; Dustin had fired a small comment, looking vindicated; Jane had appeared very pleased.

In all honesty: Jane was pleased—still is, three years later. Scarily so; enough that her vision turns a satisfying red for just a moment. El feels a little remorseful, using her powers to hurt some kid, but then she remembers everything Troy has done and her resolve is set. She might not like the things she does as Jane a lot of the time, but she finds nothing wrong about this.

The other thing she is known for is for, well, knowing. People are always open books to her, with the exception of a few.

“Don’t even think about stealing that,” Jane says softly to the kid she spies hovering around Mr. B’s room. He whips around, eyes wide, and sprints away from the expensive-looking, half-repaired watch on the teacher’s desk.

“Sorry, Jane,” he mutters in return before he’s gone, and Jane just nods and smiles tightly, dark eyes following him. Jane files the interaction in her memory, but she already has his face and name blocked out—she can claim deniability if necessary.

She relaxes her stance as soon as he’s gone, El taking over from Jane, shouldering her bag and making her way down the hall. She’s searching for Will, so they can go home together—though her dad and Joyce aren’t “dating”, they live in the same house, so Will and Jonathan are basically her brothers now. It makes it hard, hearing all of Jonathan’s thoughts when he comes back from college, hearing Joyce’s and Dad’s all the time, and then only getting painful feedback from Will.

If only Will’s mind was like that boy’s, she thinks idly. Pliant, but not weak. Though not foolish like him. Because there are things she doesn’t understand about Will, about Mike, about society, about the world. Things she might be able to decode if only she could see him like she sees everyone else. Questions she could have answered.

Question one would probably be: Why are you still sad? Because Will is still so oppressively miserable that it follows him like a storm cloud, so prominent she couldn’t miss it if she tried. But things are better now, so why?

Question two would certainly be: It’s not your fault. You know that, right? And she would ask because Will tries to carry the weight of the world on his small shoulders, because Will blames himself for everything bad that has ever happened to him or someone he cares about. She doesn’t need powers to see that. Will just thinks that bad things happen to him for a reason, that he has brought these evils upon himself, and El wants to make him see that it just doesn’t work like that.

Question three would simply be: You love him, so why do you hide? It had hurt for a while when Mike had, what’s the term… “broken up” with her. Will helped her understand that all Mike meant was that they weren’t right for each other “romantically” (which is apparently different from “platonically”, which is apparently the one El herself likes). And El can’t read Will but she can read Mike as well as anyone else—perhaps better—and she knows everything: she knows that Mike loves Nancy though he says he doesn’t, he admires Steve though he says he doesn’t, he thinks Jonathan is a little too “cloud-in-front-of-the-sun-on-a-previously-nice-day”, whatever that means, though he says he doesn’t. She knows that even though she is Mike’s favorite person, Will is Mike’s Favorite Person, though Mike says he doesn’t have favorites. Basically, Mike says a lot of things that aren’t true. But El now knows the difference between lies, white lies, and not knowing the truth, so she’ll let it slide.

And she will never know the way she knows about other people, but Will’s heart is worn on his arm—no, sleeve, that’s right. His emotions are clear. El knows what it means, when Will’s face lights up as Mike wraps him into a hug.

And, moreover, the brightest, loudest thought from Mike is a mixture of love and fear. It’s something El has always known about but hadn’t been able to interpret when she first saw it. But she gets it now: Mike loves Will, in a way that’s romantic and not solely platonic like it is with the rest of the Party, and it scares him.

She doesn’t know why.

The problem is that no one addresses this, no one seems to relate to her thoughts, so she is left to wonder if this is just another one of those countless things she’ll never understand.

Dustin likes to think that he has a special sort of intuition—not a power, like El has and whatever Will has developed, but a… skill. The kind that has gotten him in trouble before, sure, but is a big achievement nonetheless. For instance: Dart. Yeah, Dart had turned out to be a dangerous inter-dimensional baby Demogorgon, but befriending it had helped the Party escape the tunnels when El closed the gate.

So. Intuition not terrible.

But his intuition screams DANGER DANGER DANGER around El, around Will. He doesn’t think they’ll hurt him, any of them—because of course they wouldn’t—but he swears he can feel an undercurrent of energy when they step into a room. It’s in the way things shake but don’t fall when El is angry, the way shadows seem to bend to Will when he’s afraid.

And he gets something from Mike, too. Less in a physical sense—there are no tremors, no flashes of light or darkness or color when something goes wrong. But there’s something in Mike’s gaze that warns people to not get too close. If Dustin’s not-superpower is his intuition, Mike’s is his disconcerting glares.

Dustin notices it a lot at school, when bullies—fewer than there had been in the past, fortunately—whisper behind Will’s back. Or when people snicker when he stutters through answering a question on a bad day. Even at home, when the rest of the Party send questioning looks at them when Will falls asleep on Mike’s shoulder during a movie night and all Mike does is run a hand through his hair.

The look tells them, no. Forceful enough that people just tend to look away before his glare intensifies. And Dustin wonders what it is about Will that has Mike doing that. What it is that could make Mike do anything for him. Wonders how long they’ve loved each other.

But Mike says no, and it becomes one of those things Dustin tries not to think about.

It’s one of those things Will talks about a lot. In whispers, usually, sometimes over a radio he has control over or muttered into the ceiling as they sprawl out in his bedroom or sometimes even spoken about between kisses. And Mike listens to him, replies to him, understands.

It’s why Will loves him.

They don’t talk about the others. It seems too wrong. But they talk about everything else—their feelings, their future (singular), their fears. How much they love each other.

They don’t talk about the fact that they haven’t let a single person know about them yet, despite the fact that it’s been two years. The fact that their friends might whisper things but never say anything substantial out loud. They don’t talk about the fact that Mike sometimes thinks about how he really did have feelings for El, even though it’s long gone. They don’t talk about the three weeks Will had spent hiding away with Jen and Christopher after he confessed, terrified and confused; the three weeks that they had spent apart before they snapped back together like a rubber band. Those are just… some of those things they don’t talk about.

“I love you,” Mike mutters sleepily as he clambers into the bed beside Will. It’s the same bed he’s had since he was a kid and it’s much too small for two people, but they make it work. It’s Saturday night and the door is locked, El is at the arcade with Max and Lucas, Dustin is away, Jonathan is at college, his mom and Hopper are sleeping, and Mike will make his escape in the morning through the window.

Will wraps his arms around Mike’s torso and pulls him closer, away from the edge. He presses a kiss to his mouth. “Mm. Love you, too.”

And it’s one of those things they can talk about.

I hope you enjoyed, everyone! Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Find me on Ao3 here.

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 #byeler #byler #lumax #will byers #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #dustin henderson #el hopper #jane hopper #jane ives #fanfic #fanfiction #logan writes stranger things stuff

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