#also squint to see mikes hair clips!

[taeiris]

mike invited will over to show him his new campaign’s progress but will’s feeling significantly clingy today so he’s distracted himself a bit by doodling on his boyfriend’s pretty face 💔

[the-lean-buddha]

My thoughts on the news about The Long Walk's film adaption

I have very little faith that The Long Walk will be a good adaption but maybe I'll be wrong! I can dream, and I've been wrong before. Here are my thoughts on the casting announcements and set pictures.

Cooper Hoffman and David Jonsson are the leads, according to Deadline, which means they're presumably Garraty and McVries. Jonsson seems like a good actor but an awful fit for either character, and with Hoffman (presumably Garraty) it comes down to how good an actor he is, I guess, because I can see it working if I squint but I haven't seen anything from Hoffman to suggest he can do Garraty. And I reaaaaally doubt he could do McVries. McVries has a bite to him.

Joshua Odjick is Native American so he's presumably Joe or Mike (not to say that a different character couldn't theoretically be Native American in the adaption, but it's key to Joe and Mike that none of the other Walkers understand their culture at all, and only Baker defends their parents). It's odd that either of those two would have a prominent enough role to be cast already, so I wonder if either one of their roles is beefed up, or if Mike and Scramm will be a composite character and Joe won't feature at all. Alternatively, Odjick isn't playing a Native American character (or he is but Mike and Joe are adapted out), in which case I'd guess Parker.

Roman Griffin Davis is someone I've only ever seen in Jojo Rabbit so I don't know how much range he has. I think he'd fit best as Barkovitch but I wouldn't be surprised if he's been cast as Baker or Olson.

Charlie Plummer is Stebbins. I say this almost entirely because he's a long-haired blonde. If McVries is black then book descriptions (and characterizations, let's be honest, you can't make McVries a black kid in the 70s and keep his character the same) are thrown out the door already, but google Charlie Plummer and tell me he's not been cast as Stebbins. Also, take a look at this.

Ben Wang is Asian American and there are no explicitly Asian American characters, so we've gotta guess this one purely on Vibes (Olson and Barkovitch could both be canonically Asian American, but Barkovitch is openly racist, so). From Wang's YouTube channel and some clips of Chinese Born American I found, he's a nice and playful guy (hmu Ben let's get a lemonade, also tell me who you're playing), so I'd assume Baker or Olson or Abraham because they fit that the closest, I guess? But this is unfortunately a flawed way of guessing because actors playing lunatics are sometimes normal people in real life, walking among us, going almost undetected.

Tut Nyuot's a young, sweet-looking kid. I'd assume Percy? Again, weird to cast Percy already because he doesn't even have any lines in the book, but I can't imagine Nyuout playing a character who's supposed to be the same age as Charlie Plummer's character. Maybe he's unexpectedly good at playing deranged assholes like Barkovitch? We'll see.

For Garrett Wareing I'd say Olson, looking through clips and interviews.

Jordan Gonzalez gives me no strong impression. Sorry, Jordan. Feel free to give me a stronger one over lemonade (and tell me who you're playing). If I'm held at gunpoint then I'll say Abraham.

Mark Hamill is presumably playing the Major. He's absolutely not who I would have picked because he overflows with character and I always pictured the Major as a stoic, empty Big Brother type figure, whose moments of charisma and friendliness were obviously just an act. And I guess Hamill could play that, but I think the Major will more likely have a lot more personality and vim and vigor in the movie, if Hamill was cast - he's easily the biggest draw in the cast. Not necessarily a bad way to portray the Major, but easier to mess up. We'll wait and see.

Judy Greer as presumably Mrs. Garraty will presumably be fine.

Set photos look promising, aesthetically. No half-track, though. And there's a tank. Why is there a tank?

There's a Deadline article suggesting that there are only 50 kids and the pace limit is 3mph. But there's also an article suggesting it's still 100 kids so it might be a mistake? If it's 50 kids then that's presumably done for practicality but it's a bad change, the number will either get too low too fast or it'll drop too slowly (and also no 47 and 61 which would be weird but that's not significant). 3mph isn't necessarily bad, it's more feasible, but it does mean the "first into Massachusetts in seventeen years" can't happen. Maybe they'll make New Hampshire the record instead.

i want lemonade

Reblog with your thoughts! We've got news, people, and I'm sure someone somewhere is more excited about that than I am. Let's get some discussion going on in here.

[infernwetrust]

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 1

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: Michael has some business handled at his California home.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, a lil smut, MURDER, some graphic descriptions

WC: 3.1k

A/N: I thought long and hard about starting this, but I’m gonna go ahead and give it a shot. Outpost Michael fits this perfectly of course, but he’ll cut his hair every now and then lol. This will have it’s own bracket on my master list. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The air was cool. The evening was just right. Your husband Michael had decided to throw a small party that consisted of only close friends, family members, and some staff from your residency and Michael's line of work. Party music played moderately in the background as the backyard of the Santa Monica Villa you and Michael purchased this same year was filled with laughter, dancing, and casual conversation. Servers carried around platters of the most delectable finger foods. Drinks were also being served. Cars were lined up in the driveway, late arrivals having to park on the side of the road. Luckily, Michael always sent one of his guards on a golf cart to pick up his guests that had to park far away.

Michael laid in his hammock, across his rather large pool so that he was away from everyone else. Michael dressed comfortably. He wore a beautiful salmon pink floral shirt and white slacks, with a white belt. No need for shoes. Around Michael's neck was a platinum rope chain that glistened when the light shined on it just right. Around his wrist was a platinum iced out Rolex watch, his name engraved on the inside, one of his favorite gifts from you. The only ring he decided that he wanted to wear today was his wedding band, which shocked you. Michael always wore all of his rings.

Curled up against Michael's chest yours and his beautiful 1 year old boy, Malcolm. He was blessed with a full head of hair, just as blonde as his father's. He took after your eye color, but his resemblance to his father was unmatched. No worries because in his twin brother's arm was your handsome 3 year old son, Michael,who captured most of your features. All really, but your eye color. Michael won that fight again. Junior, is what everyone calls him. On the opposite side of Michael, still in his hammock was you, dressed in that sundress Michael loved to show you off in. Your wedding ring glistened on your finger, no matter what time of day it was or where you were. Michael made sure of that. Around your neck, your favorite Pearl necklace.

You lay head your head on Michael's chest, rubbing your hand gently against the back of your one year old. Michael raises his arm slowly as to not alert the sleeping child and takes a sip of his whiskey. He's glaring at someone, hard. And you know why and who, but you rather choose to not address it. All you were waiting for were the words.

"You know, brother." Jim said to Michael, using his free hand that wasn't holding Junior, to also take a sip of his drink. "I don't see how you do it."

"And what is it that I do, Jim?" Michael questioned, turning his head slightly to meet his brothers gaze. Junior nestled his head back into Jim's chest, mouth full of goldfish out of the bowl he was holding. Jim sat in a chair, adjacent to Michael's hammock.

"How you stay so calm and collected about things."

"Dirty work is not something I'm a fan of."

"But I am."

"I know, so that's why I gave this task to you."

"You know I'll do anything for my family."

"I just don't see why we can't just kick them out." you mumbled, watching as Malcolm grabbed your finger in his sleep as you tried to put your hand back down from his back.

"Because in this life, lessons have to be taught." Michael answered you, putting his glass down to wrap his arm fully around you. Michael made eye contact with his other twin, Duncan, who sat amongst a group of women, one of them in his lap, stroking his hair. He nodded, giving Michael the cue. "Will you go ahead and take the kids inside?" You sighed, sitting up, looking Michael in his soft blue eyes.

"Baby, you don't have to-,"

"One day you'll understand, Y/N." Michael said, cutting you off, grabbing one of your hands and giving it a few small kisses. Getting up, you gently picked up Malcolm, holding him close to you.

"Come on, Junior."

"Nooooooo." Junior whined, not wanting to leave his Uncle's side. "Don't wanna."

"Hey." Jim said, playfully grabbing Junior's tummy, causing him to giggle. "What was that phrase I taught you?"

"The first time." Junior responded happily.

"The first time what?"

"Listen!" he clapped, letting go of his bowl which Jim quickly caught before it fell to the floor.

"Smart boy. Now go with inside with your mommy. We'll play later, yeah?" Junior quickly nodded, scurrying off of Jim's lap and to your side, grabbing your hand. He turned around momentarily to look back at Jim, who shot him a quick wink before you took both boys inside. You also managed to scurry up the other children as well, promising treats and a good show on TV. You had them at treats.

"He loves you so damn much." Michael said, sitting up, hanging his feet of his hammock to come face to face with his brother. "Sometimes I swear he thinks you're his father."

"I mean. I could be. We're twins."

"Watch it, playboy."

Jim chuckled, reaching for his drink to take another sip. He dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, black slacks, and a pair of dark blue dress shoes. A black Louis Vuitton belt, midnight silver buckle, lined his waist. He sighed, reaching for his pistol that was tucked neatly behind him is waistband. He quickly removed the clip, checking it, and popping it back in before setting it down on the table next to Michael.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Jim questioned. "He's been with us for a few years, Mike."

"All the more reason to get rid of him. I've taken care of you for years and you betray me like that?" Michael answered. "He knows too much and has seen too much."

"That's true." Jim mumbled, rubbing his hand underneath his chin. "What are they doing with his body?"

"Burning it." Michael said quickly, squinting his eyes at Jim. "Like we do 90% of the time. Do you not want to, Jim?" Michael's question caused Jim to laugh as he got up, returning his shirt back into his slacks. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table, taking one out, placing it between his lips and giving it a light, tossing the box back on the table. He inhaled sharply, before exhaling lengthy.

"You and I both know, Michael." Jim began as he took another hit of his cigarette. "That I shy away from nothing. Especially not an, how do I put this, opportunity." Jim tucked his gun back into his waistband.

"And speaking of opportunity." Jim continued, looking out into the body of people before hitting his cigarette one last time and then handing it to Michael. "Here's mine."

Jim made his way, at a decent pace, back to the other side of the pool, where all the party goers stood. He took his time, waving and smiling at familiar faces. Spotting his target, he moved with just a little bit more urgency. It's such a shame that Bryce had to go. Michael watched Jim as he moved, continuing to sip his drink. Part of him wanted to look away because this hurt him as much as it was going to kill Bryce. Bryce was one of his favorites.

He remembered when he stumbled across Bryce who limped out of an alleyway, screaming for help as Michael closed up his bar. When Michael laid eyes on him, his clothes were completely ruined by blood. He held onto his stomach, collapsing onto the sidewalk, coughing up more blood as he spoke. Michael made his way over to the boy, kneeling down by his side, removing his hand from his wound, watching as the he poured out.

"How bad do you want to live?" Michael asked, cocking his head at the boy.

"What the fuck is up with you man?!" he questioned. "Help me!"

"I asked you a question." Michael spoke again. "You want to live right? I could just let you die, here."

"Um, kinda, yeah!"

"Then tell me how bad you want to live."

"Bad man! Bad! I want to fucking live bad! Please don't let me die!" Michael grinned. How fragile life was, he thought. How it could just be taken from you at any moment. Moments like these.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Br-Br-Bryce." he responded before blacking out from the pain.

"We're going to get you alllllll fixed up, Bryce."

Michael took Bryce, not to a hospital, but instead back to his property, where his own private doctor could deal with Bryce. They managed to take care of what they discovered was a gunshot wound instead of a stab wound like Michael originally thought when he found Bryce.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked Dr. Joseph as he stepped into the rather large, renovated, shed he had given to his doctor for his medical practices. He even was nice enough to give him a little office space as well.

"Well. He's very lucky considering how much he was bleeding." he answered. "Those two bullets I removed barely missed his vital organs, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Which room do you have him in? Is he awake now?"

"Room 3. It has the most room. The last time I checked on him, yes."

Michael nodded at his words, making his way over to the room. He entered quietly, not wanting to startle, Bryce. Bryce sat up in the bed, sipping on an ice cold water, scrolling through the movies on the flatscreen TV Michael had gotten installed in every room. Jim's idea, of course. There was an awkward silence in the room as Bryce didn't know whether to thank him first or say fuck him for waiting until he passed out and asking him all those stupid questions.

Michael didn't say anything as he walked around to the side of Bryce's bed, pulling up a near by chair to sit closer to him. Michael leaned back in his chair, throwing a leg halfway over his knee as he clasped his hands together. Bryce never took his eyes off of him, not sure what his next move would be.

"You're welcome by the way." Michael said. "Isn't it nice having someone take care of you without all the pesky need for insurance information or just a bill in general?"

"Why are you doing this?" Bryce questioned.

"Answer me this, Bryce." Michael leaned forward in his seat. "What if I offered you a chance to start over? A new chance at life. Somewhere, where you could be safe, your meals paid for. And all you have to do is stay by my side, loyal to me."

"I'm not gay, man."

"Who said anything about being gay?" Michael questioned, raising his eyebrow. "And what if I was?"

"Listen." Bryce breathed out. "I didn't mean to offend you. Look. Thank you. For bringing me, to, well wherever we are, and helping me. And once I'm all healed up, I'll be all out of your hair."

"Do you have any family, Bryce?" Bryce's whole attitude changed. He looked softer.

"No..." he answered silently.

"Well you do now."

Jim was just a few feet away from Bryce now when the two made eye contact. And when Jim reached, rather quickly, behind his back, Bryce knew. Of course he knew what he had done. Bryce turned around to start running, when Jim quickly cocked his gun and fired two shots, both at the back of his legs. Everyone stopped what they were doing, in shock, but not enough shock to runaway. It was Jim and who dares question one of Michael's brothers. Everyone watched as Bryce fell to the floor, screaming bloody murder in pain. Jim continued to walk at his leisurely pace to him, standing in front of him.

"Now." Jim said aloud, over the groans and screams of Bryce. "I know you all looked at Bryce as family, right? 4 years ago my brother found this piece of scum bleeding to death, begging for help. And of course Michael helped him."

"I'm sorry!" Bryce yelled, hands reaching out to grab Jim's ankle and it took everything in him not to kill Bryce right then and there, but he wanted to get his point across.

"And with the help of our wonderful Dr. Joseph, he was taken care of, free of charge, can you believe that?" Jim continued. "And all we asked for in return was just his unwavering loyalty." Jim snatched his ankle away from Bryce's hand, stepping on it, instead, causing him to scream out again as his fingers were crushed.

"But when you lie to AND you steal from the hand that feeds you." Jim looked around at everyone as he said this. "There are consequences." Jim kneeled down in front of Bryce who looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, pleading with Jim.

"Please..." Bryce whispered to Jim, grabbing ahold of him again. "Please Jim, I'm sorry. I was desperate."

Jim grabbed him by his face, snapping his head up to look all the way at him. He looked at the gun in his opposite hand, before looking back at Bryce. The small breeze that was in the air had come completely still, everyone virtually silent as they watched the events unfold. When things first went missing around the house when Michael would hold meetings, they didn't even think to look at Bryce. Not until Michael had trusted him enough to appoint him as Duncan's right hand man. Duncan handled all of the cartel's finances and when he kept coming up short on the days just him and Bryce would do the counting, he caught on rather quickly.

"I liked you Bryce." Jim said, jaw clenched. "I really did. We all did. We loved you almost, but you know the rules, don't you?"

"Jim please..." Bryce whined, starting to cry his eyes out, but only enough for Jim to see and hear. "Please man. I'll do anything. Anything please!"

"What did I tell you happened to those who betrayed the cartel? What is your own way out once you're in? I mean I could just let you go, yeah? But once you walk out those doors you become a liability to me, my brothers, and my family. And I just can't have that."

"Death..." Bryce mumbled. "But we can work something out, please!"  Jim chuckled as he let go of Bryce's face, quickly cocking his gun again, before holding Bryce's face up again. He put the gun inside of Bryce's mouth, looking him dead in his eyes.

"Maybe in another life." And with those words said, Jim pulled the trigger, the sounds of bloods and mush splattering across the ground. A few turned their heads, not wanting to see the sight. Jim looked up and back across the pool at his brother who downed the rest of his drink, nodding at Jim.

"Clean it up." Jim said to the disposal crew who stood near by, rising to his feet, and tucking his gun back away. "Everyone else can carry on."

///

The warm water danced on your skin as you stood in the shower, washing away all events from today. You put your face underneath the water for a few seconds before running both of your hands through your hair. When you turned around you were startled by the presence of your husband, Michael, who stood behind you, a little soaked from the backlash of you being underneath the water. His vibrant blue eyes were now several shades darker as he was out of the sun light. He simply just stared at you.

You offered to trade him positions under the water so he could get completely wet too and of course he didn't object. You were now staring at him as he stepped underneath the water, sighing as it hit his skin. He ran his hands over his face as he turned around to face you, getting off as much water as he could before he opened his eyes again to look at you. Water dripped off his skin and your eyes couldn't help but trail all over him. He was so beautiful. His long blonde hair, over shoulder length, completely wet now as the water continued to pour down on him. You almost smiled, remember when Michael told you that he was going to start growing his hair out. He cut it every now and then, but nothing compared to long haired beauty.

"I'm sorry." he spoke, running his hands over his face again. "I know you don't like when.. you know." You walked over to your husband, pressing your forehead against his, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His large hands found their way to small of your back, pulling you even closer.

"I know..." you mumbled, using your thumbs to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not mad at you, Michael. I just don't want you to become... emotionless."

"Everything I do is to protect you and our boys. Without my family, I am nothing. This empire? We built it, Y/N. Not just me. I'm still here emotionally, but you know it works. He was too much of a liability to just let go. And when the right information gets into the wrong hands, I'm only sure you can imagine what happens."

"Do you ever get afraid, Michael?"

"Only if it deals with you and my sons." he said, looking down at you, smiling. Cheeky bastard.

"I'm being serious. What if one day you go out and don't come back home? What if we get attacked here? What will I do? What will I tell our children?"

"Don't you ever worry about that, my love." Michael reassured you. "As long as my brothers and I are alive and breathing, no one will be in any kind of danger. I promise." Michael brushed his lips across yours as he finished his sentence. You pulled him in for a kiss. A hungry one, it was, as your tongues wasted no time entering each other's mouths, Michael's dominance showing as you basically let him devour you, melting away at his touch. He backed you up against the shower wall and you gasped against him as it was cold. He picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him like your life depended on it. 

"Let me help you forget..." he said against your lips, brushing his nose across yours and you remembered, just how in love you are with Michael.

Taglist: @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @jimmason @theneverendinghunger

[skullrock]

the partners, chapter nine - Steve x Reader

chapter nine - hand in glove 

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: You and Steve attempt to escape the base, which goes a bit easier - and a bit worse - than imagined. 

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of blood, punching, etc

word count: 4.1k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. we have FANART NOW folks and I have literally not stopped crying over it!! pls go give Andy some love <3 please lmk your thoughts on this chapter! we are almost done bois! love u! also - phrases in italics = memories! 

===

As if would turn out, sneaking around a secret Russian base with a concussion was not very easy.

You were taken out almost immediately just by the lights out in the Interrogation Hub. Steve kept watch as you bent over and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to find an angle that didn’t make your ribs ache. His hand stayed on your back the entire time, rubbing it in attempt to comfort you.

“I know it’s not fun,” he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, but Steve gently guides you to start walking. He knows if you don’t keep going, you’re not going to make it. And he’d like to take you on a date after all of this.

“We gotta find … walkie… first,” you remind, and Steve nods.

“I have the plan, just relax.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re not totally helpless.”

“You’re on thin ice, Y/N.”

The halls are as deserted as they were when you arrived, much to your relief. It was easy to keep walking, but not easy to know where you were going. It felt like you and Steve were walking in constant circles, and Steve’s anxiety rose each time they walked into another stark white hallway. The sound of voices down the hall forced you both to take refuge in a random room, Steve’s fists raised to fight in case anyone was inside. But it was bare – and full of everything you needed.

On the far wall was a control board, which was in front of a huge wall of screens. You could look and see all of the security cameras on them. This would be helpful if it weren’t for the fact that there were easily 75 screens, and each room looked exactly the same. In the middle of the room was a long table, and there sat your knife, walkie, and gun.

“This seems too easy,” Steve mumbles, fists lowering.

“Maybe the author is taking it easy on us,” you mutter, leaning heavily into him. Your head spins and hurts, your chest aches when you breathe. You don’t remember ever being so miserable, and you want nothing more than to break down and cry. And sleep. Thankfully, the adrenaline keeps your ass in gear, spurring you to keep going.

“God, you’re really concussed,” Steve says. He leads you slowly to a chair at the table and you slowly sit, reveling in the feeling of being grounded. Steve picks up the walkie and hesitantly turns it on.

“Uh, this is –“

He doesn’t even finish before a cacophony of voices scream from the box, making you groan loudly. Steve hisses and turns the volume down before growling, “One at a time! Over!”

“We thought you guys died,” you hear Mike say. “We thought you guys were dead! Over!”

“Steve, are you okay?” Robin asks. “Where’s Y/N?”

You reach up and pry the walkie from Steve’s hands. “This is Juliet. Have you called Owens?”

“Yeah, like, two hours ago,” you hear Lucas say. “Joyce is losing her shit.”

“Guys, please don’t forget to say over,” you hear Mike groan somewhere in the background.

“Is he on his way?” You ask. “We could really use the help.”

“Mom went to meet them at the station, we had to fill her in,” Will says.

“We’re here with her,” Dustin says. “He should be here any minute!”

Steve snatches the walkie from you. “We don’t have time to waste. We don’t know how to get out of here, and Y/N isn’t doing so hot.”

“It’s Juliet,” you say weakly. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at you like you’re an idiot – but there’s still some love in his eyes, too.

“Look, if Mike wasn’t so fucking sure that we should use code names, then I wouldn’t –“

“We don’t know how to get out,” Steve continues into the radio. “We’re in those tunnels that the Demodogs were travelling through.”

“The ones from last season?!” Max asks.

“Yes, those –“

A song of voices rings out again, this time sounding confused and shocked. You slip away as Steve attempts to explain everything quickly. You head over to the opposite side of the room, away from the screens, and find a series of desks. The desks have things like pencils and protractors on them, and you squint. One desk has what looks like a blueprint on it. Stepping forward, you grab the paper, revealing another set of plans underneath. They’re maps.

“Found something,” you say weakly, and Steve strides over. You hand him one of the more legible plans – architecture and design is not your forte, nor is it his. It’s staggering, the number of tunnels, the number of hubs, all running underneath Hawkins. There were miles and miles of them, and your stomach dropped. These tunnels had been fully functioning as a Russian base for more than a year, and the people put in office to protect you allowed it.

But another realization hits you after that, sending your stomach to your toes: If you’re not close to the exit, you won’t make it.

The rooms are written out in Russian, but you can get a sense of where you are, and you can tell where you had come from. The interrogation hub was clearly marked out, as it had about a dozen rooms within it. You had only gone maybe three hubs and hallways from it, and Steve points out a closet marked with a camera – that’s probably where you were. The exit is on the very far end of the tunnels, where the bar is on the other side of town. You were about ten hubs away from it.

“Closer than we thought,” Steve mumbles, and you scrunch your nose.

“Ten hubs is going to take like, forty five minutes to clear. And we are….” You gesture to yourself and then to him.

“Yeah, it’ll suck, but we can do it,” he says. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Congrats.”

“You get so mouthy when you’re concussed, you know that?”

“I get mouthy when I am about to die, Steve, thanks.”

Steve rolls his eyes and lifts the walkie-talkie back to his mouth. “We’ve got a map. We’re kind of close to the exit through the bar. We’re going to go for it and keep you updated. Over.”

You grab the walkie from him weakly. “Make sure they know we’re down here, yeah? Don’t want to get mowed down by bullets.”

“Got it. Standing by,” Dustin says.

“Going off walkie, talk soon, over.”

Steve takes the walkie back, which is good, because every word that comes out of your mouth makes your head spin and stomach lurch. You grab the gun and knife.

“Woah, hey,” he says, gently grabbing your wrist. “Don’t think you can shoot that in your state.”

“My gun,” you whisper. “Keeping it.”

Steve knows realistically he probably couldn’t shoot a gun right now. He’s keeping cool and positive on the outside, but he’s screaming bloody murder on the inside. He’s terrified to lose you. He knows you’re not doing well; he can see the miserable look behind your eyes, how you wince with each step, how labored your breathing is from the pain. He has no idea how you’re going to make it, other than through sheer willpower - which he knows you possess. Steve also feels like his heart is ricocheting through his body. Every look at you reminds him of things he should have said or did. Every look reminds him of how much he loves you, how much he fucked up.

Yeah, he probably couldn’t shoot a gun right now. Neither could you. But someone should have one. He makes a mental note of where it is on you, tucked into your waistband and sitting on your waist, in case he needs to use it on your behalf.

You carefully put the knife into your garter again and give a thumbs up. Steve’s hand grips the map and he clips the walkie to his uniform before sighing heavily and leading you into the hallway.

You’re met immediately by five people in uniforms similar to Steve’s. You both freeze, eyes wide. Steve’s about to grab your gun but the men simply nod and continue. Steve breathes out a sigh of relief and he takes your hands behind your back to create the impression that he’s taking you somewhere.

“They’re morons,” Steve says to you. “Idiots.”

You make it through two hubs carefully and without incident, but each step is starting to feel like a death march for you. You try to act strong so that Steve doesn’t freak, but you’re almost positive you’re about to collapse.

You enter the third hub. Steve lifts the walkie. “This is – us – we are heading into the third hub right n-“

He’s cut off by the lights turning red and an alarm blaring. You begin to drop to the floor at the noise but Steve grabs you around the waist, holding you steady. “Shit.”

“What’s going on?” Robin asks through the radio.

“Is Owen’s here?” Steve asks. “Or –“

“They know we’re missing,” you answer for him. “They’re looking for us.”

Steve throws his head back, and if he had a free hand, he would run it aggressively through his hair. He straightens you with his arm still around your waist and lifts the walkie back up. “We’ve got company!”

“He should be here any minute!” Robin stresses, and you can hear the panic in her voice. “Hide, or –“

“Yeah, got it, Rob,” he says harshly into the radio. “Stand by.”

Steve clips the radio to himself and uses both hands to steady you, still gripping the map. He turns you to look at him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look so serious.

“I know you don’t think you have it in you, but you do, okay?” he says sternly. “We have to get out of here. I’ll help you, just –“

“I can’t,” you whisper, emotions rolling through you heavily. Your eyes well up with tears. “Please, just go –“

“No,” he says, gripping onto your shoulders. “I’m not leaving here without you, understand? You’re coming with me. You’re my partner, remember? We don’t leave each other behind.”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears. “If we live through this, I’m going to kill you.”

He quirks a smile and quickly says, “I think you mean kiss,” before guiding you towards the next hallway.

The bad news – the hallway is stocked full of Russians in uniforms who are looking for you both.

The good news – there are so many of them that they cannot tell that you and Steve are, in fact, you and Steve.

The next bad news – you and Steve are split up almost immediately.

One guard shouts at Steve and grabs you from him – he must assume you’re another prisoner. The guard escorts you roughly down the hallway and you look back at Steve, eyes wide, matching his. He tries to shout after the man who has you, but the other shouting and chaos in the hallway drowns him out. You were expecting to get shot and killed, but this is somehow way worse.

Steve tries to push through the crowd, but he is physically unable; it’s a small hallway, after all. The panic rises in him and he tries to calm himself down, tries to watch where you’re being taken, but it’s so god damn dim and red and he can’t differentiate between anyone. Suddenly, he’s being pushed with the rest in the direction you both just came from, as you head the other way.

Luckily for you, you still have the gun. And although you are tripping over yourself, even though the feeling of the guard’s fingers digging into your bruised skin hurts, you can still remember how to use it. The guard takes you into an empty hallway and heads for one of the rooms off of it, letting go of you briefly to unlock it with his card. You move quickly, grabbing the gun from your waistband and lifting it.

This one puts up a fight, much unlike the young man you encountered before. A scuttle ensues as he grabs your forearms, attempting to throw you to the ground. You plant your feet though, and the sheer adrenaline helps you rip your arm from his grip and slam the pistol down onto his head. He drops and you lean against the wall, catching your breath.

If you didn’t feel like you were going to die before, you definitely feel it now.  

You give yourself a moment to catch your breath and push off of the wall. You can slightly remember the path you had taken to get here, and you attempt to retrace your steps. You know there’s no point in trying to find Steve. Not only can he hold himself – probably – but there’s no way in hell you could take care of yourself andfind him. You walk aimlessly, using the wall for support, stopping every so often to steady yourself. You’re thankful for the dim red lights, even if they flash. It’s better than the stark white you were working with.

You’re also thankful that the guards are somewhere else, because the empty hallways help you navigate quicker than you would otherwise.

Stepping gingerly, you continue your path, simply hoping something familiar comes up or, by some miracle, Steve finds you. Your heart hurts that you didn’t get to tell him one last time that you love him. Fear grips you – what if he dies without knowing? But he probably does know, and he’s probably very smug about it, and the thought of that dumb, smug smile helps you continue to put one foot in front of the other.

You enter a new hallway. Stopping momentarily to catch your breath and rest, you lean against the wall. Your eyes close and you want nothing more than to just sleep. Just a quick nap. Just a –

Someone grabs you roughly and throws you to the floor before you can finish your thought. Your head slams against the tile and you see stars, nothing but stars against a black background. Your ears ring and you weakly reach up to protect yourself, but you’re lifted and slammed against the wall.

“Steve?” you slur stupidly, remembering what happened the last time you both found each other.

The laugh that answers confirms that this is not Steve – it’s Edwards.

“Got split up?” he asks, and he throws you against the wall again, making you cry out.

“A bit,” you reply weakly. You try to knee him, but your leg only lifts about two inches before it falls back down.

Edwards grabs your jaw and jerks it so that you look at him – or, well, face him. You couldn’t open your eyes from the pain.

“You kids have been a pain in my ass since you first started,” he says, and a punch to the stomach sends you careening backwards. You black out for just a moment and he throws you to the floor.

You’re pretty okay with your fate at this point. It hurts, you don’t have Steve, Steve could be dead – this is okay, you think. You’re at peace with it. You just hope it comes quick. You curl into the fetal position, wincing at the pain in your stomach and ribs, and wait for the fatal blow or bullet to come.

“Only wish your boyfriend could be here to watch,” he says, and you hear the gun cock.

He’s not my boyfriend, you think. Not yet.

“Any last words?”

Typical, you think. You open your mouth to respond, but someone responds for you.

“Go to hell.”

Steve’s fist makes contact with Edwards’ nose, a sickening crunch ringing through the air. In shock, Edwards drops his gun, before swinging at Steve. Steve dodges it and throws another fist, which collides with Edwards’ jaw. Edwards manages to grab Steve and throw him down, but Steve pulls him down, too. They struggle with each other, fists being thrown every which way, and you hear the contact from your position on the floor. You are impressed with Steve’s good timing, impressed with his sick-ass comeback, impressed with his punches.

But here’s the thing – you know Steve’s track record. You also know now that Edwards is a sick fucking sociopath with a few tricks up his sleeve. You need to help Steve or you’re both dead.

You pick yourself up off the floor with all the energy you have left and grab the pistol from your waistband.

“It’s simple, really,” Edwards said. “First, make sure safety is off.”

You click the safety off.

“Make sure your feet are planted firmly. Good position is key.”

You plant your feet, one slightly in front of the other.

“Have good posture. Keep your shoulders back and chin up. Don’t take your eyes off of the target.”

You roll your shoulders back and straighten as best as you can, despite the protests from your ribcage. You force your eyes open wide, focusing on Edwards, who is still scuttling with Steve. He’s a moving target, and you’re not sure if you’re going to hit Steve or him, but you still line the gun up with Edwards’ figure.

“Be ready for the recoil – it’ll hurt if you’re not prepped,” Edwards said, making sure to straighten your arms as you focused on the target. “Keep your arms straight as an arrow.”

You straighten your arms, gun held out in front of you, trained on Edwards’ figure. Steve shoves Edwards off of him and he flies backwards, giving you a bit of separation. You train the gun and your eyes on him.

“Take a deep breath,” Edwards had instructed. “And then shoot.”

You take a deep breath. Edwards flies back towards Steve and you force yourself to keep your eyes open as you shoot.

The shot rings through the air.

At first, Steve thinks he’s the one who’s been hit, and he gasps, eyes squeezed shut. He waits for the pain, but it never comes. He slowly opens his eyes to find Edwards on the floor, shot in the shoulder. He’s alive – and fine – but stunned into silence. Steve’s brows furrow, confusion surging through him, until he hears the gun hit the tile, you dropping right after it.

Steve runs for you, holding you tightly against his chest. You just saved his life, twice in one night. The appreciation, the adoration, the horror, the love all travels through his veins at once, and tears run down his face without Steve even realizing.

You are simply spent – there’s no way you’re going to keep going after this.

“You okay?” you whisper.

Steve is, miraculously, fine. None of Edwards’ punches landed, and he got Edwards pretty good, too. He laughs softly in disbelief. “Never been better,” he says dryly. “You?”

Your eyes meet his and the look in them tells him what you need to say. You can’t keep going. You have to stay back. You have to wait for Owens.

But Steve knows that can’t happen. If you’re left alone, you’ll fall asleep, and honestly, who knows what will happen after that? It’s not an option to leave you behind – it never was.

Steve quickly scrambles to get the map out of his pocket. He unfolds it and points. “Look, we’re so close, Y/N, so close. The exit is right there – we can make it, come on!”

He attempts to lift you, but you cry out, so he slowly lowers you back down. Edwards groans from behind you and Steve turns to him, snapping, “I’ll shoot you if you so much as twitch.”

Steve looks back to you, his eyes searching yours. You think he looks so handsome down here in the red lighting. Your hand reaches to his face and you cup it again. “Go ahead.”

“No.” Steve licks his lips and gently grabs your shoulders. “You didn’t owe me a damn thing, and you came for me, and you stayed for me. I will never be able to return that favor, but I can try, right now. I’m not leaving you. You’re not dying down here.”

“Steve,” you mumble.

“Y/N, you have to get up,” he pleads, voice cracking. “I only got to love you for a few hours, and I – I want to spend the rest of my life doing that. But I can’t do that when you’re dead, okay? Or – I guess I could, it would just be really sad –“

“Steve,” you repeat.

“I’m going to take you on the best dates,” he continues. “I’m going to take you everywhere you have ever wanted to go. I will take you to see the National Parks, I’ll take you to that stupid candy themed amusement park in Oklahoma. You always wanted to go to it, right? I’ll take you to the Empire State Building, I’ll take you to Hollywood, I don’t care. I’ll cook for you, I’ll bake you danishes every single day for the rest of your life –“

“I don’t like danishes.”

He laughs sadly and cups your face. “I know, I know, but you haven’t tried one of mine yet, remember? I’ll cookfor you, I’ll take you on picnics, just – please, please, get up. Please let me love you for the time we have left.”

As one of your coworkers had said before, Only love makes you that crazy – and that damn stupid. This apparently applies to near-death experiences as well, because you are able to pull yourself to your feet. The thought of loving you was enough to get you through the last few hubs and hallways. Steve made sure to kick Edwards on the way out, threatening him once more. He won’t die down there – he’ll die after rotting in prison, and that’s a better fate.

Steve carries most of your weight, one of your arms draped over his broad shoulders as he uses his free hand to hold the map. Every time you’d slow down or falter, Steve would promise you something else to keep you moving.

“They’re making a sequel to Back to the Future, and I’ll take you to every viewing.”

“I’ll buy a polaroid and take nice pictures of you every single day.” He pauses. “Well, try to, I don’t know much about photography.”

“I’ll buy you the coffee and pastries every Monday.”

Each promise sends a bit more energy through you. It’s not so much that you want these things to happen to badly that it keeps you going. It’s that Steve gives such a shit that he’d do these things with you. It’s that Steve loves you, and you love him, and he was right – a couple hours of love isn’t enough for you. You want more. You want the cuddles, the kisses, the fights, the sleepovers. You want it all – and that’s what keeps you going.

Steve’s talking into the walkie at certain intervals, keeping the gang updated on what’s going on. You block these intermissions out, instead focusing on how your shoes look on the tile. Before you know it, you’re pushed into an elevator, the same one you rode when you came for Steve. Your vision starts to falter now, and you hear Steve talking, but you can’t make it out.

“Almost there, we’re almost there,” he comforts. “Just a few more minutes.”

The bar is, at this point, deserted and closed down. Steve’s thankful of the absence of bodies as he exits the elevator, you gripping onto him for your life.

“Dustin, Rob, we’re out,” he breathes into the radio. “We’re –“

You decide to clock out right here. You made it – that’s all you could do. You made it out from the underground, and now you’re officially done. You give in to the comfort of unconsciousness and fall to the ground, Steve unable to catch you from how fast you moved.

Dates be damned. You’re out.

Steve drops beside you, his fingers immediately going to your wrist to check your pulse. It’s weak and slow, and he starts to lightly pat your face. “Y/N, come on, don’t do this, wake up!”

When you don’t stir, Steve goes into freak-out mode. He grabs the radio and begs for Robin, Mike, anyone to call an ambulance. His fingers don’t leave your wrist and he doesn’t leave your side for even a second. In only a few minutes, Owens and his troops appear, pushing past Steve and you on the ground and heading straight to the elevators. Joyce is with Owens, and she runs to Steve, kneeling and immediately wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her mother reflexes kicking in. “Are – are you hurt?”

“She needs an ambulance,” Steve cries, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Please, she needs to get to a hospital, I don’t know how much time –“

Robin and Dustin appear now, stress and worry gripping their features. They both lunge for Steve, who is now caught in a group-hug, while he holds your hand tightly. Two men with a stretcher appear next, lifting you off the ground, and Steve hugs everyone back for a split moment before running off to join you in the ambulance. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows there are questions he needs to answer, but his first priority is you, his partner, and he’s not leaving your side.

The medics ask him questions about his own state, and he gives one-word answers and shrugs. He’s fine, physically, but he’s pretty sure he will take up Owen’s standing offer for therapy after all of this. Steve doesn’t leave your side even as you arrive at the hospital, running alongside your stretcher.

A woman appears beside him, holding a clipboard. “Relation to the patient?”

Steve’s brows furrow and he quickly answers, “Relation? I – she’s my partner.”

You wake up momentarily just to hear that, and you let out an “aww” before slipping back under. Steve is stopped in front of two double doors, left with the promise that he could see you once they check your vitals and make sure you’re stabilized. He slides down the wall and sits on the cool linoleum floor, still in his authentic Russian uniform. The silence in the hall is deafening and startling for him.

He wishes he could hear your voice.

===

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr @sourapplebaby @harringtown @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch @peanutem @mochminnie @willowrose99 @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred​ @marvels-gurl @willowrose99 @andyl394​ @ssanjuniperoo @davnwillcome @darth-el​

[talkfastromance4]

I Will Wait for You--Michael Clifford (Running Back to You Part 2 wwii au)

Here’s part 2! So sorry it took so long to post, I started  writing it but then changed the dynamic halfway through so this would be Michael’s point of view. I can do a final part in Luke’s perspective and to wrap it up, so please let me know! :)

A/N: “lovie” is reader from Running back to you:)

Running Back to You

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: slight trauma from nightmares, not too major, implied smut

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. *copyright is listed below*

• • • •

Michael jerked awake. A choked gasp escaped his lips as he took in his surroundings, he could still hear the echo of the bomb that went off in his subconscious, leaving his ears ringing. He blinks as hard as he can, recognizing the shadows of his new apartment he rents then panics when he can’t see through his left eye.

The memories come fast as flashes. The grenade that sent him flying from Luke. Flash. Immense pain that soon disappeared on the left side of his face. Flash. The doctor telling him his eye is gone. Flash. Staring at his reflection in the mirror for hours trying to adjust to the bare, sunken in skin where his eye used to be. Flash. Being half in the light and half in the dark for the rest of his life.

He’s thankful he just lost the eye, he’s thankful every day that he’s still alive but it’s taking him a lot longer to adjust than he thought. Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, he snatches up his eye patch and slips it over his head. He presses down on the edges making sure it’s secure before pushing off the bed and pushes the curtains open.

It’s almost dawn, the burning orange and brilliant pink sky greet him in good morning over the waves of the ocean. Michael cranes his neck to the right and he can just see Luke’s new house. Guilt creeps up Michael’s neck, he hasn’t spoken to Luke in three weeks. He felt embarrassed to see him and confront him with the truth after they left the train station.

After meeting his girl and new daughter, Michael was desperate to see his own dame, Peg. After assuring Luke that Michael would be fine getting to her house on his own, he was filled with nerves once more. Still in his uniform, Michael stepped heavily on her front porch steps then knocked twice and rang the doorbell.

He twiddled the brim of his hat, breath shaking as he waited for the door to open. There’s a commotion behind it, then he’s looking at Peg. Her golden hair pinned up with a barrette made of pearls, she’s prettier than he remembered. Her eyes widened as she took him in, Michael noticed her gaze linger on his eye patch.

“Hi Peg,” he sighed unsteadily, still twisting his hat, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to write. After the liberation and between my surgery I didn’t have time to write to you.”

“That’s…that’s okay, Michael,” she said quietly still staring at his patch.

“I know it’s a lot to get used to, I’m still getting used to it myself,” he chuckled touching the protruding fabric. “But the rest of me is still here, I’m home. Don’t I deserve a hug?” he was half joking the last bit but after witnessing Luke and his girl embrace so tightly back at the station, it left him in uneasiness that Peg didn’t react the same way.

“Oh…yes,” she said then wrapped him in a loose hug.

Michael could only get a small whiff of her lilac soap before she pulled away too quickly. Something was wrong. Has she already decided not to love him anymore because of his eye?

“I’m sorry—”

“Who’s at the door darling? Dinner’s getting—oh, hello,” a man appeared behind Peg. Tall as Michael but with slicked back black hair and a crisp suit.

Michael understood everything. Why Peg seemed so uncomfortable, why she didn’t jump into his arms like Luke’s girl did. She’d already moved on and left Michael none the wiser.

“I’m Chip, who are you sir? Thank you for your service,” Chip held out his hand, but Michael didn’t take it.

“Why don’t you tell him who I am, Peg?” Michael said in a clipped voice.

“Chip this is Michael, he’s my—he was my—”

“We were seeing each other,” Michael added in, his anger rising over the hurt he was trying to push down. “Clearly I didn’t get the memo it’s over while I was halfway across the world.”

“I thought you were dead,” Peg tried to reason, her eyes filled with tears. Chip stood there awkwardly during the exchange.

“Couldn’t wait to get actual word before you found someone to cure your broken heart?” Michael shook his head and turned from the door. He ignored Peg’s voice begging for him to come back, to let her explain but Michael kept walking.

He’d wanted to go to Luke but after witnessing his perfect reunion with his girl and new baby Alice, Michael felt ashamed. He felt subpar compared to what Luke had and it gnawed at him in the worst way. He read the letters Luke sent but didn’t reply to them. The guilt pressed on, but his nightmares pressed harder.

Michael changed quickly into dark slacks and a buttoned shirt; suddenly his apartment became too suffocating. He walked along the street, breathing in the fresh ocean air until he stopped at The Comfort Diner, his new favorite spot.

He’s thankful for it because it opens early and doesn’t close until extremely late in the evening. So, whenever he can’t sleep because of the nightmares, he finds himself in one of the red chairs at the swirling counter and orders the same thing. A strawberry milkshake and a burger with fries.

One of the waitresses, Cherry, always took his order with a kind smile. He likes Cherry because she never gawked at his eye patch but treated him like any other customer. Michael told her what happened with Peg and she offered her apologies and even called Peg some very rude names for what she did.

She’s also incredibly beautiful.

Michael is shocked and frozen in the entrance when he spots Luke sitting at Michael’s usual place. There’s already food in front of him, and Cherry stands nearby with a book propped open next to the register.

“Hi Michael,” Cherry greets cheerily. She bookmarks her place then skips to where Luke is sitting. “Your buddy here said you’d show up this morning, and he’s right. Can I get ya a coffee?”

Michael’s eye darts between Cherry and Luke, who is also staring back at Michael. His expression is unreadable as Michael shuffles to his chair. He sits down heavily then nods to Cherry. When she disappears behind the kitchen door, Michael glances at Luke.

“I’ve been waiting here since half past four,” Luke says, his finger circling the rim of his own coffee mug. “Cherry and I got to talking because my nightmares leave me awake and she said a fellow soldier frequents here with the same type of nightmares. Funny how it’s my best friend who lives just a few minutes from here and a few blocks from me.”

“Luke, I’m sorry. I—”

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened with Peg?” Luke cuts him off, his eyes piercing Michael’s green. “We fought the same war; we see the same nightmares and we could have helped each other all this time. Lovie told me to give you space, let you cope but after two weeks I didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

“I felt embarrassed,” Michael confesses. “You have the picture-perfect life and I’m damaged and loveless. I didn’t want you to see me as weak.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “You aren’t weak at all, Mike. Don’t disappear on me again, yeah?”

Michael nods and accepts Luke’s pat on the back just as Cherry bristles out with a steaming mug of coffee.

“Milk and sugar’s already in there for ya,” she smiles.

“Thanks Cherry,” Michael sighs and accepts the hot liquid. It helps ease his tangled thoughts; it quiets the buzzing.

Luke watches her skip back to her place at the register, opening her book once more then squints his eyes at Michael.

“What?”

“Cherry’s quite the dish and she clearly thinks you’re good looking as well. Ask her on a date.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Are you still hung up on Peg? What she did was horrible, you don’t deserve that, and she doesn’t deserve you feeling this way.”

“What nightmares do you see?” Michael asks taking a sip of his coffee while also trying to deter the topic of conversation.

“Everything. The bombs, the towns…that officer’s family,” Luke finishes hollowly. “I wake in a cold sweat every night.”

“I see them too. But I mainly relive the bombs, and when I wake up, I forget my eye is gone. I have to process that loss all over again…do you wake lovie up?”

“Sometimes, but that’s when I’m…screaming,” Luke gulps. “I forget where I am sometimes but when I hear her voice…I know I’m safe.”

“I’m glad she’s your safe space, Luke. And I’m sorry for disappearing, I promise I won’t do that again. Solitude is worse than I thought.”

“It’s the beast in you, yeah?” Luke grins and they’re back to normal. “Come out with me and lovie tonight. There’s a dance club near the boardwalk that always lingers to the beach.”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Michael shakes his head.

“Neither am I. Hey Cherry, do you like to dance?” Luke calls over. Michael is horrified but Cherry is radiant.

“Sure, I do!”

“Meet us at the Nostalgic Club say about eight o’clock?”

**

When Luke and lovie came to retrieve Michael for a night of dancing, Luke made him change into his uniform. Apparently, it was a special night for those who served, a welcome back home soirée.

“Cherry’s one lucky lady,” lovie smiles at Michael when he comes out in his uniform.

The nightclub is already hopping when the three arrive. A jazz band plays loudly and exuberantly onstage while couples are jiving and flipping over each other with the music. There are indeed a lot of men in uniform, and a few ladies as well. The atmosphere is buzzing, and Michael lands his eye on Cherry who’s wearing a pearlescent dress, her hair pinned exquisitely atop her head. She’s breathtaking.

The group cross the dancefloor to a smiling Cherry and Michael feels self-conscious. How is he supposed to dance with her looking like a vision? He’s surprised he didn’t trip over his feet already.

The girls are introduced and soon they all have drinks in their hand, feet tapping to the music. It’s not long after that lovie pulls Luke to the dancefloor, the pair stepping in time with the other couples easily. Michael and Cherry exchange nervous smiles.

“You’re not a dancer, are you?” Cherry asks kindly.

“Not the fast-paced kind, no,” Michael chuckles watching her sip her kiddie cocktail.

“Do you want to head out to the beach? It’s a little stuffy in here,” Cherry scrunches her nose up in an adorable way.

Michael is quick to agree, leading her outside with his hand on the small of her back. Once they reach the beach, they sit on the cemented steps along the perimeter of the sand. Michael sets his hat next to him and Cherry sits a little close, he can smell her perfume. It’s floral and fruity, almost like strawberries.

They sit in silence watching the waves crash upon the shore, the moonlight glittering the spray. The music can still be heard along with laughter and chatter. It’s a comfortable sort of silence.

“Michael?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to your eye? I know I’m prying, but I’ve heard talking about it helps and I’m willing to listen. If you’d like to, that is.”

He looks at her with his good eye, he desperately wishes he could see her without the feeling of being half in darkness. He can tell she’s genuine in her questioning.

“It was a grenade,” he starts quietly, “we were walking in the street of a small town. I have no idea where it came from. All I remember is being flung away from Luke and everything went black. When I came to, everything was…red and black and blurry. My ears were ringing but Luke was talking to me…I think I was running on adrenaline. Sometimes it feels like it’s still there.”

Cherry grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“That’s what my nightmares are about. In my dreams I can still see, then the bomb goes off and I’m back in this weird…dark and light space.”

“How often do you dream of that?”

“Nearly every night,” he sighs, he gives her hand an involuntary squeeze.

They’re silent once more, Michael hopes he hasn’t scared her off. They listen to the big band play, more swing music and then it switches to a softer ballad, one that Michael likes. The familiar trumpet croons into the late summer night, and the lead singer’s voice starts the rendition of Harry James’ ‘It’s Been a Long, Long Time.’ Michael stands to his feet, pulling Cherry up with him.

“This, I can dance to,” he smiles. She returns his smile and fits into the curve of his arms perfectly. They sway in the sand and Michael starts to sing softly in her ear, “it’s been a long, long time haven’t felt like this, my dear since I can’t remember when…”

“You have a lovely voice,” Cherry sighs and hums along with his singing.

The song comes to a close, Michael stares down at Cherry as she stares back at him.

Kiss me once

He leans down and gives her the faintest kiss.

Then kiss me twice

He pulls back and looks at her once more, she gives him a gentle nod, so he kisses her twice.

Then kiss me once again

It’s only a fraction of a second that he pulls back before he presses his lips to hers for good. They kiss and dance under the moonlight until Luke and lovie find them.

**

It’s their twelfth date and it’s ended at Michael’s apartment, the record player playing their song as they kiss silently on his couch. Their fingers worked on buttons then Michael hoisted her onto his lap, his fingers slipping beneath the skirt of her dress. Cherry’s fingers scratched up his sideburns and into his hair. When she meets with the strap of his eye patch he freezes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she pants removing her hand quickly.

“No, it’s—it’s okay,” he swallows harshly, his green eye focused on her. “Do you…do you want to see what it looks like? It usually starts to hurt around this time, the fabric digs into my skin.”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” she nods leaning back.

Michael lifts his arms and removes the strap from behind his head, then lifts the patch off his face. The skin is sunken in and folded over a little in the center, but the circumference is smooth. Cherry lifts her fingers then pauses midair, eyes shifting to Michael who nods giving her permission. She touches the skin delicately.

It’s plush yet tough at the same time, Michael sighs at her caress.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Cherry looks into his eye then cradles his face in her hands.

“You’re the handsomest soldier I’ve ever seen,” she smiles then attaches her lips to his.

Being vulnerable in front of Cherry filled Michael with a new form of confidence. Soon, both were bare in the most intimate way, their bodies joining as one. Fingers locking and unlocking as pleasure rippled through them. They declared their love at the same time and when the moment of euphoria passed, Cherry kissed the space of skin.

“The beauty fell in love with the beast,” he whispers on her neck and her giggles drift into the night.

• • • •

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[stuck-in-hawkins]

Of Boredom and Makeup

Fic request for @willbyersbowlcutisgay :)))

Will laid down, his headphones plugged into his stereo, listening to the ethereal strings of “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” weave together a story in his mind.  He was close to an idea for a drawing.  He was getting a general idea of various pictures, but he didn’t have the thread to bind them together.  Something to make a coherent plot.  It didn’t matter if people couldn’t see the whole story from one painting.  He needed to know it first.

This drawing assignment was the only thing left to do.  The suspension for fighting would last the week, but the work had been done, at least for him.  The remainder of his days would likely be spent tutoring El.  She was wicked smart, particularily in science and math, but years in a lab hadn’t taught her the subtleties of the English language.  The party had tried to catch her up, taking turns tutoring her in one subject or another.  Now, it was just Will, Jonathan, and Joyce.  

Most of yesterday had been spent trying to help her with the workload.  But she  got easily frustrated and it had been a trying day.  Today, they were taking a break.  Will heard the crackle of the record as the brass in the song faded and listened as the sounds escalated and welcomed him to the machine.  An idea crawling out, haunting images from the movie Metropolis, pipelines and steam turning into a creature with an open mouth consuming, feasting.

He felt a shadow on his face.  He opened his eyes and saw El standing over him.

He gasped and threw off his headphones.  “Jesus, El!”

She seemed surprised by his reaction and immediately apologetic.  Will forgot sometimes how childlike she really was.  

He softened his tone, “Is everything alright?”

She held up the Walkman he let her borrow.  “Out of batteries.”

“Oh.  Crap.  Okay.  We’ll have to get some next time we go to the store.”  He popped it open and saw she was listening to the David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.  A smile lit up his face.  “Do you like it?”

El nodded.  

Will took the tape out. “Do you want to listen to it in my room?”

El brightened at the idea, “Sure.” 

 He pressed the stop button, moved the needle off record, and took his headphones out.  He put the tape in the bottom section of the stereo that played cassettes and hit play.  The room filled with a dance between the piano and Bowie’s vocals.  Will’s grin hadn’t faded.  He got his sketchbook out at his desk.  

“I’m gonna draw for a bit.  You can bring whatever you want in here.”  

El got the magazines, mirror, and make up bag from her room.  She set herself up on the floor.  Will saw this out of the corner of his eye and stifled a sigh.  Just when he had thought they had something in common, he’d been reminded of how different they really were.  

He couldn’t understand her.  She had so many conflicting things.  She was this total badass but also sensitive like a child and then she’d do totally girly things that just drove him crazy.  What did Mike even see in her?  

And there was a pang, like a string out of tune.  There it was.  The underlying reason for it all.  Will hadn’t put words to it.  He didn’t want to.  There would be so much to admit.  So many ugly words he didn’t want to face.  He pulled out his charcoal and blackened his fingers in the tactile material.  He let himself get absorbed in the motions, the values, the dark shadows and gradients.

He didn’t bring his head up until he heard the click of the tape.  He realized it was probably close to lunchtime.  “Hey El,” he turned, “Do you want something to-”

But he didn’t finish.  He couldn’t.  Because when she’d turned, he saw the face of Ziggy Stardust.  Perfectly rendered.  The golden sun on her forehead, the red and gold on her eyes fading as they spread off her lids and into her bone structure.  His mouth hung open.  

“Does it look okay?” She asked.

He couldn’t fathom it.  She was every bit the badass he had thought.  And holy shit.  She actually WAS artistic.  She could draw little more than stick figures, it had been a creative outlet that had been stolen from her as a child, and she got much too frustrated with her lack of progress to try at all.  But, at putting on colored powder, she was a Van Gogh and Will admired her for it.  

He realized he hadn’t said anything.  “El… that’s amazing.  How did you do that?”

She held up a picture from a magazine: The Rolling Stones.  

“Just from the picture?  No tutorial or anything?”

She shook her head.  “Just the picture.”

“That’s incredible.”

She beamed.  

“Umm.. Are you hungry?”  He asked.

She nodded.  He scrubbed the charcoal from his hands in the kitchen and made them both PB&J.  But he couldn’t get an idea out of his head.  It was embarrassing and he didn’t want to say it.  He didn’t want to ask.  After lunch she grabbed a stack of napkins.  

Will tilted his head.  “What are you doing?”

“Wiping it off.”

“What?!  But you just finished!  You’re not going to keep it on?”

“I wanna try the other one.”  

Will straightened.  “The one with the lightning bolt?”

She nodded.  Will looked at the clock.  They had a while before anyone came home.  Long enough to… No.  No.  It was ridiculous to even think it.

There was an intense internal struggle.  But the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing Bowie looking back at him was too strong.  “Youcoulduseme,” he blurted.  

Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.  “What?”

Will averted his eyes, “You can use me.  For the makeup.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Will shook his head, looking away. “I don’t like make up or anything.  But you worked so hard on that.  And it looks incredible.  It would be like washing artwork down the drain.  And it’s only because it’s Ziggy Stardust.  I was thinking of being him for Halloween, anyway.”  

He stopped his ramblings, feeling like he was blabbering to an empty room.  When he looked back at El, she was practically glowing, “It’s artwork?”

Will nodded.  “Of course.”

She turned back still beaming.  He followed her to the bedroom.  A knot suddenly settling in his stomach.  All the things people would say if they saw.  But who was there to see?  It was less that others would see, it was that he would know what they’d say.  That maybe all those things they said would be right.  What if he enjoyed it?  Would that make him the fairy everyone thought he was?  

He sat down in front of El and looked at the magazine with David Bowie’s visage looking back.  He wondered if Bowie was ever called that.  What if he’d listened to them?  How much of his art would he have cut himself off from?  How much expression would he have silenced?  The thought was strong enough to ward off his worries.  The negative words still chattered, but he mentally told them to piss off. 

El picked up her palette and brush.  She held the colors up to his face and looked back at the picture.  Will watched her work.  She laid out all the cast off make up given to her by Nancy and began selecting her colors, moving them in front of Will.  She held out her hand to Will and he looked at her curiously.

She said, “I need your hand.  To try the colors.”

“Oh!”  He gave her his hand and she picked up a shimmery white and applied it to the back of his hand.  Her touch was warm and delicate as she held his hand.  He thought the sensation of the brush would tickle, but it didn’t.  It just felt nice.  He relaxed while she doused his hand in eyeshadow.  Once she was satisfied with the color selection, she moved onto his face.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

He did and felt his nerves ripple as she touched the brush to his cheeks.  He wasn’t used to his face being touched.  He realized how much trust this required and wondered if that was why girl friendships were so different than guy ones.  They had an open trust.  Not that he didn’t trust his friends.  But it was different.  If any one of the guys in their party sat down with his eyes closed, there was a 50/50 chance someone would fart or burp in their face.  It just was that way and Will had never questioned it.  But this was so… gentle.  

He felt like a canvas and it was a strange experience.  It involved a lot of waiting.  But the experience was overall pleasant and he didn’t want it to end.  At least until she got to the eyes.  

“Stop squinting.”  She said, annoyed.

He opened a eye.  “It’s kind of hard when-”

“Close them!”

He shut his eye again.  “When you are putting something directly on my eye.  It’s instinct to squint.”

“Raise your eyebrows and you won’t squint.”

Will tried and forced himself to keep his eyelids taut.  

When she got to his forehead, she clipped his bangs with bobby pins to the top of his head.  Having his hair touched just about put him to sleep.  He found himself wishing that it wasn’t just something assigned to girls.  He wished that guys had been allowed to do that stuff too, instead of having to wait for a haircut to have such affection to be bestowed.  He wondered if it was wrong to question that though.  

Her hands left his face and he opened his eyes.  She looked him over and nodded.  “I think… it’s done.”

Will sat up, excited and also a little nervous.  “Can I look?”  

She nodded.  He took his time getting to the mirror.  Will worried that he might look ridiculous.  Maybe it had all been a trick and his trust a slap in the face.  But when he got to the mirror and saw Ziggy staring back, he felt stinging at the back of his eyes.  He couldn’t help it. 

The trademark lightning bolt was striking across his face and the red glow flowing from his eyes seemed like some power had washed over him.  He felt stronger.  He felt powerful, like he had something no one could take away.  In that moment, he loved the person he was, wholly and completely.  The makeup was a mask, but it reflected more of himself than he’d ever let show.  In that moment he accepted himself exactly as he was.  

He knew the moment was fleeting and he’d go back to facing the demons in his mind.  He’d have to hear his mental record play the same discouraging songs about his shortcomings, his flaws, the things that made him believe he was broken.  But right now, none of it mattered.  In this moment, he knew he was stronger than all that.

“It’s perfect.”  He said.  He looked back at El in her Bowie make up and a thought popped into his head of her being his fairy godmother.  And he chuckled.  He felt happy and ridiculous and overwhelmingly grateful.  He wrapped his arms around her without a second thought.  

The affection surprised her and a warm smiled nestled into her cheeks.  She leaned her head on his shoulder into the embrace, thankful to finally have a brother.  

They played as many Bowie albums as they could while Will worked on a new drawing.  This one was filled to the brim with color.  He used colored pencils for general outlines of his own silhouette and filled it with color from his chalk pastels.  He drew bright streams of sun that broke through clouds, which looked like the nebulas he’d seen in his astronomy books.  There were streaks of lightning going to the edges of the paper.  He hoped it conveyed the strength he had felt, the beauty of the moment he’d seen in the mirror.  He’d have to ask Jonathan when he got home.  El wasn’t one for interpreting artwork but she was enthralled at watching his creative process.  

They didn’t take the makeup off until after both Jonathan and Joyce got back.  Joyce insisted that Jonathan take their picture.  When the pictures were developed, El kept one on her vanity and Will kept one in his drawer.  He’d take it out on dark moments when the inner monologue got too loud, when he needed to remember his own strength.  Sometimes it worked, but not always.  When it didn’t, he knew he could go into El’s room and he’d let her practice her craft on him.

[brianc521]

Nose in a Book

Shawn blinks a few times and wipes his face with his hand, inhaling sharply and looking around. It’s dark in the room, the slight light of the moon casting in through the crack of the curtain. He looks around and grabs his phone from his nightstand, clicking the home button and then squinting his eyes at the bright light.

2:13 am

He shuts his phone off and groans softly while pushing his face into his pillow. He doesn’t know what woke him up but he desperately wants to go back to sleep. He just landed home earlier and was so exhausted.

He sighed, rolling over, ready to bury his face in her hair and wrap her up in his arms. But when he turns his brows furrow in confusion when he notices that she has completely covered herself with the blanket, a curled up lump under the covers.

He lifts the blanket, peeking under to see a slight light cast over her shoulder. He slides closer, now hidden under the blanket with her, looking over her shoulder to see her book light clipped to the back of her book, lighting up the small black words on the page she were reading.

He smiles softly, resting his chin on her shoulder, startling her a bit. “Babe,” He whispers, “What are you doing?”

She looks over at him, caught expression on her face as she looks up at him with big wide doe eyes. “Reading,” She whispers back, pouting a bit.

“Why are you reading at two in the morning?” He asks flipping the covers off of their faces.

“I really couldn’t sleep without finishing this chapter.” She says looking back at her book and sighing.

He laughs, dropping his forehead to her shoulder and giggling into her neck.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry I was trying to be quiet and cover the light.”

“I don’t know what woke me actually, but tell me about this chapter.” He smiles, pulling her into him.

“No go to sleep, I’ll go out to the living room.” She says, starting to roll away from him, his eyes going wide, hands blindly reaching out to stop her.

“No! No no no, tell me about it. I wanna know, please.” He pouts, locking her into his arms.

“You should be asleep.” She taps his nose, causing him to scrunch his face.

“Please,” He whines.

“Okay,” She sighs, letting him lay on her as she tells him the backstory of her book.

**

She’s looking around, watching a young couple walk outside through the big windows in the office.

Shawn has meetings all day in Nashville, so the team is occupying a conference room in a little town about 30 minutes away from the Opry.

He looks over at her, his eyes shining a light brown shade today, smiling to himself when he watches her bite her lip and lean around to see farther outside.

She turns, catching his gaze and leaning closer to him. “Think I’m gonna go get a coffee from that shop,” She whispers into his ear.

He nods, smiling at her and kissing her cheek, then watching her stand and politely wave as an apology as she slips out of the room, sighing once in the hall.

His meetings are always so boring for her, the only one she really paid attention in was when they spoke about their relationship. She fishes her phone out of her purse, plugging her headphones in and starting her Elvis playlist, he’s been her latest artist on repeat. She wanders into the coffeeshop, eyes lingering on the name of the bookstore next door.

Shawn watches her from the window, smiling as she holds the door open for a mother and a daughter duo that are slightly behind her. The little girl waves, her giving the girl a grabby wave back. He bites his lip, chin rested on his hand as he watches her follow them into the store still talking to the little girl.

He turns back to the boys when the door shuts and sighs as he jumps back into paying attention to the meeting.

The boys are groaning on and on about rehearsal times, break times, show times, and the new tour coming up. Shawn’s ready for a nap, picking at the hem of his shirt when Mike speaks up.

“Wait,” He says looking around the table. “Sorry to interrupt you Andrew, but Shawn,”

Shawn looks up, head still tilted down, his relaxed position being compromised.

“Hmm?” He responds.

“Where’s Y/n?”

He smirks, “I know where she is,” He nods.

“Yeah,” Zubin looks around. “She said she was going to get coffee like,” He checks his phone. “Like two hours ago.”

Shawn flicks his watch and nods, “Yeah.”

“What? Did they plant, grow and roast the beans right there?” Dave asks.

“Do you guys know her at all?” Shawn chuckles, “There is a bookstore next door to the coffeeshop. I’m sure she got coffee but that wasn’t the only reason why she left.” He shrugs. “I know where she is, I’m glad you guys are concerned but I got her. Promise.” He nods.

The boys all exchange glances as Shawn leans back in his seat again, crossing his arms and tapping his foot against the floor.

“What else do we need to talk about?” Shawn asks, biting at his nail.

Andrew looks at his client, finally seeing the way Shawn’s been watching the window like hawk, but also the way he has checked out of this meeting. “We’re good for the day, we’ve been in here for awhile.”

Shawn’s eyes sparkle as he looks up. “Really?”

“Yeah, I have to meet up with Cez.” He says looking at his phone.

Shawn’s quick to jump to his feet, stuffing his wallet, phone and keys in his pockets and moving out to find his bookworm.

He smiles, ducking into the bookstore before the crowd of people might recognize him, he’d already been pulled away from her long enough.

The door rings as he walks inside, an older woman standing from behind the counter, the book she was reading being set on the counter. “Hi! Welcome in, can I help you find anything?” She asks softly.

Shawn smiles, walking up to the counter, “My girlfriend maybe?” He grins. “She’s about yay tall,” He holds his hands up, shaking it a bit. “Her hairs in a messy bun, she’s wearing my pink sweatshirt, light blue jeans. Black sunglasses on her head?”

“She been in here all day?” The lady smiles.

“That’s the one.” He points at her.

“She was sitting in one of the aisles, she’s in her element.”

“Which aisle was it?”

“Oh um,” She taps her chin.

“Poetry?” Shawn asks, looking over his shoulder.

“That’s it.”

“Thought so, thank you.” He nods, offering her a smile and walking in the cozy store and finding his girl, sitting on the floor with a book in her lap.

He smiles, biting his lip, falling in love with her all over again. He walks up beside her, taking a seat and scooting up behind her.

“Hey Bookworm.” He whispers in her ear.

She jumps, moving away from him before she turns and sees him. She sighs, smiling at him and leaning back into his chest. “Hey,” She smiles.

“Meetings over, finally.” He rolls his eyes, tilting her book to the side so he could see the cover.

‘The Sun and Her Flowers’ reads at him. “Is this good?” He asks looking into her eyes.

“Yeah, I like it.”

“You like everything you read.” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay true, but I really like this one.”

He smiles, nodding. “I’ll make you deal,” He licks his lips, noticing the other two books stacked by her leg.

“And what’s that?” She challenges.

“I’ll get you all three books,” He grabs the ones on the ground. “If you leave with me and go back to the hotel.”

She smirks at him, “What do you want?” She asks, “There’s more to it then that.”

“Okay, so maybe I was gonna ask if you could read to me. Maybe take a bath, cuddle me all night.” He mumbles.

She smiles, kissing his pink tinted cheek. “Sounds like a perfect night to me.” She pats his chest.

“Okay,” He nods standing up and offering her a hand.

They walk back to the counter, Shawn purchasing all three books for his girl, smiling and tipping the store owner. Writing a ‘Thanks for keeping my girl in her element all day.’ on the bottom of the receipt.

He throws his arm around her shoulders as they walk on the sidewalk. The bag is in his hand, his sunglasses are on his face, smile bright as they walk back to the hotel.

“Can I take you to a show tomorrow?” He asks, looking at her, smiling wider when she reaches up and laces her fingers with his hand that’s hanging off her shoulder.

“Are you performing?” She asks softly, slipping her sunglasses on her face as well, her soft hair flowing with the wind.

He stares for a second, mesmerized by her beauty. “Um,” He looks away trying to remember what they were talking about. “No I’m not. But, Brad Paisley and Little Big Town are playing at the Opry.”

She squeals a bit, “Really? We can go?” She squeezes his hand.

“Yeah, that is if I can get your nose out a book long enough.” He teases.

She playfully hits his chest, glaring at him from behind her glasses, making him laugh.

**

The guys want to go out after the show, which is why Shawn is fixing his curls after his shower, dabbing more cologne on.

When he walks out of the bathroom, finding her curled on the hotel couch, glasses on her bare face, pair of his basketball shorts and one of his shirts drowning her, he was a bit shocked.

“Babe?” He asks, looking at himself in the mirror on the wall, fixing a button on his shirt. “I thought we were going out?”

She looks up, shutting her book a bit, “Wow,” She says looking him up and down.

“What?” He looks down at his boots. “Bad?”

“No,” She smiles at him. “You look hot, like always.”

“Tried to dress up for you,” He picks at his shirt. “Why um,” He motions at her.

She frowns a bit at him. “I’m sorry, you ran to the shower before I could tell you. I have a headache and I think I’m just gonna stay in.”

He tilts his head at her. “You have another headache?”

“Yeah, but go! Go out with the guys, I’m just gonna laze around.”

He pouts, moving to her purse and pulling out some ibuprofen and grabbing her water from the show, sitting on the couch and handing them to her.

“Thanks Baby,” She smiles, taking the meds and setting her water on the table in front of her.

“Call me if you need anything?” He bites his lip.

“Of course.”

“I won’t be out too late.”

“Have fun, but don’t drink too much okay? I have no way to get to you if you need a ride.”

He nods, leaning forward. “Okay,” He kisses her softly.

He stands, grabbing his wallet and phone.

“Have fun.” She tells him before he leaves.

“Okay my little Bookworm.” He grins, kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She smiles as he walks out of the room.

**

Two days later, the both of you are back home. In the comfort of the condo, lounging on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her lap, book in her hands as Shawn naps.

She looks up at the view, light grey sky staring back, angry looking clouds surrounding the CN Tower. She purses her lips, looking around the quiet condo. She taps her finger against the edge of her book, thinking back to her boyfriend.

The one that’s snuggled up in their bed, hugging her pillow as his eye lashes flutter against his cheek. She smiles at the memory of them stumbling into the apartment, bags dropped at the door as he wrapped her up in his arms.

“Cuddle me!” He had requested.

And they did cuddle on the couch, but as she started reading and he started sleeping she kicked him to the bed to take a proper nap.

She closed her book, standing up and throwing the blanket on the back of the couch, making sure the door was locked as she made her way to the bedroom.

She giggles when she finds him sleeping on his back, giving her the perfect opportunity to jump on him, straddling his waist and kissing all over his face.

He wakes with a start, hands reaching up to grip her hips as she kisses him.

“What? Whoa, hey! I thought you were reading.” He said, stopping her kisses attack.

She grins, “I was, but I couldn’t get this cute cuddly giant puppy out of my mind.”

He cracks a smile, “Oh?” He rolls her over, laying on top of her. “Something wrong with that?”

“Yeah, he’s real distracting when I’m trying to read.”

He laughs, kissing her softly, but quickly deepening the kiss. “Can I do something to keep distracting you?” He breathes against her lips.

“Keep kissing me like that.” She says breathless.

He nods quickly, reattaching his lips to hers in a heated fashion.

**

The next morning he wanders off to the kitchen, rubbing his right eye and bumping into the wall before turning quickly and catching himself.

He smiles when he catches sight of his bookworm at the breakfast bar, reading a book and nursing probably her second cup of coffee.

He sneaks behind her, placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

“Good Morning Bookworm.” He murmurs against her soft skin.

“Morning Rockstar.” She smiles, looking up at him while he pours himself a hot cup of coffee.

He leans against the counter, taken in her still swollen lips from their late night. Grinning at the sight of the purple bruise peeking out of the neck of her shirt. Finding it really hot that he put that bruise on her neck, that she’s sporting his mark.

“How many chapters in did you get this morning?” He asks leaning across the island and peeking at her page.

“Um eleven why?” She checks, looking up at him.

“Eleven kisses for eleven chapters.” He grins, cheeky smile on his lips.

“Oh?” She smirks at him. “I like that deal.” She leans up on her stool, meetings his lips with her own, moaning softly at the coffee infused kiss he’s giving her. His tongue swiping against her bottom lip, biting it before pulling away.

“One,” He whispers.

Each kiss becomes steamier the longer they count. And by kiss eleven he’s without a shirt and his fingers are slipping past her panties and pulling them down her soft long legs.

“Let’s go back to bed,” He says, lifting her up, letting her legs wrap around his slim waist.

“Mhm, okay,” She sighs, locking her feet on his back and running her fingers through his curls.

**

He lays with her, tracing random shapes on her bare thigh.

“What are you doing?” He asks as she types at her phone.

“I had an idea.” She hums, typing a few other things and then clicking her phone off.

“An idea?”

“Okay what I’m about to tell you is something I’ve been thinking about for awhile, I just haven’t spoken about it.”

“What is it?”

“I’m thinking of writing my own book.” She bites her lips and looks away.

“Really?” He asks with excitement in his voice, leaning up to hover over her.

“Yeah? What do you think?”

“Think it’s gonna be amazing! That’s so exciting Baby!” He kisses her, repeatedly.

“Yeah?” She giggles.

“Yes! Oh Baby, have you started writing yet?”

“Um a little but I don’t know.” She shrugs.

“Can I read it?”

“Do you let me listen to songs before they’re ready?”

He pouts, dropping his face in the crook of her neck. “Ugh, fine.” He sighs.

“But you like the idea? Support it?”

“Yeah! Of course Baby, I'll support you in anything.”

“Okay! Then it’s settled, I’m gonna start writing a book!”

[burntheretoo]

within rainbows of friendship

◦◦◦

To Eddie, Beverly was red.

She was the fire that crinkled in her eyelashes and the hair that glows in one's evening light. She was the constellation of freckles dabbed across her nose and cheekbones, littering the milky white skin along her arms and legs. She was the shade of red lips and dark eyeshadow. She was always the first to jump. She would be put in Gryffindor if she wasn't so cunning. Her persona fits the color scheme and her bravery shown through a rough night's cigarette. She was the one who occasionally hummed in the white noises that fill your ears. She was the ice cream melting on your fingers, and the sharp inhale you take between kisses. She was the edge of a cliff. She made Eddie feel brave.

She was red.

Maybe that's why Bill was orange.

His hair certainly agreed with the idea. He was balance. He was fiery and brave, but also soft and loyal. He wore the love for his brother like a patch on his sleeve and was willing to kill for him. Eddie would see a bike around town, silver carved into its chest with honor, and he would feel his insides become warm with orange. He would squint his eyes with a grin. Bill was the one to laugh and then cry. He was the feeling of being afraid with the rush of a warm embrace. He's the one to bring up fireplaces in the middle of a summer's day. He was the head and heart. His heart was the red of the fire, and his head was the yellow of the sense. He would measure it with sensibility. He made Eddie laugh.

He was orange.

And because he was orange, Mike was yellow.

He was the warm smirk of a hug and the scent of chocolate chip cookies. He could just be the taste of chocolate and milk alone. He was the one to calm down itching and shaking hands. If one were to get anxious, he was there to help hold a breath. He was the feeling of a smile, and the color of the sun splashing on your face. He was the one to remember the old conversations and laugh at them like they were a part of yesterday. He was a wound that has healed over years of hugs and kisses. He's then the scent of freshly sharpened pencils and jumping the highest on a trampoline. He was the feeling of happiness. He made Eddie smile.

He was yellow.

Which made Ben green.

After years of confusion, Eddie was proud to give the feeling of reassurance a name. Its name was Ben. He was fingers running over the tops of grass with spring floating around you like a halo. Ben was the reminder to be cheerful, and he was the one to always smell like home. He was the right answers on tests, the last french fry in an empty paper bag, and notes filled with different colors of ink. He's the converse covered in grass stains from a dance in the rain. Ben was the difference between street smarts and book smarts. He was the notification that told you to go crazy, but also the one to hold you when your eyes would drown your nose. He made Eddie feel safe.

He was green.

And it's clear that Stan has always been blue.

He could be the blue that flickered on a neon sign or the color of nursery wallpaper. He was the blue of freshly clipped nails or violin music murmuring in the background. He's the clothes bristling through the wind and the aesthetics in a Ravenclaw. The salt in tears running down your face and the smell of winter. When Eddie would grow scared, Stan would shush him with cups of coffee and thin, warm blankets. He was the sound of playing cards on wood and the strings vibrating on a guitar. He was the feeling of a long nap in the afternoon during a thunderstorm. He was the taste of fruit water and fresh pages of paper. He made Eddie feel at home.

He was blue.

So that left Richie to be purple.

It fit his person perfectly. Everything about him was the ecstasy of a kiss long and overdue. He was the fiery passion of a shirt hanging off a bed corner, but the childhood memories of ice cream fights on the beach. He was the mix of a forest fire and the first snowfall of winter. He was the rush of jumping into piles of leaves and holding hands during roller coaster rides. Richie was the color of hickeys littering someone's neck with rays of a sunset in the summertime. He was the itching of hands touching and lingering kisses on cheeks. He was the yearning feeling in one's stomach during the climax of a movie. He was the rush in standing up too fast. He made Eddie feel love.

He was purple.

And when it came down to it, Eddie loved everything about his friends.

But he hated himself.

And he hated rainbows.

◦◦◦

[thecreativeangel]

The Town of Forgetting: I

Slow Burn!Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Derry was supposed to be an escape from your mother’s bad decisions and her hatred towards you for being ‘special’. But upon your arrival there you discover the eerily quiet town has a sinister reputation and a history that repeats itself.

Warnings: Cursing, description of illness. 

Words: 1,527

                                                                                          Next Chapter

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask Beverly, pressing the phone closer to your ear. An old, fading, torn at the edges polaroid picture was held in your hand, the photo she had given you as a final present before you left Portland for good. Fuck your mom and her “unstable” lifestyle. She probably didn’t want you to see the tequila hidden under the bed.

“They will, I promise.” Her distorted voice comes through the ancient home phone, crackling with electricity.

“But you said-”

“They won’t know your last name,” Beverly assures. “And if they find out, they probably forgot anyway.”

You chewed on your lip, looking at the photo held between your thumb and index finger. “Bev, I specifically remember you saying that Henry punched every one of them, at least once. That’s insane.”

You could almost feel Beverly shrug through the phone. “It’s fine. They’re awesome. Sort of complete losers, but awesome.”

You still weren’t convinced. For a good reason, one might say. “I don’t know Bev…”

“Jesus (Name), stop being such a wimp.”

“Damn, Bev,” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes as far as they could go. “Thanks for the support. I. Feel. So. Loved.”

“Yeah, yeah… Now get in the car, I can literally hear your mom yelling at you from school.”

Was it your imagination, or did you just hear her sniffle? Your own eyes are glazed over, your bottom lip trembling, slurring your speech.

“I’m fucking sorry I couldn’t see you off.” Beverly says after clearing her throat. “My dearest Auntie couldn’t let her own niece say bye to her friend-your Aunt Lia is so much cooler. Nevermind that, how’s your head? No weird visions or predictions of a zombie apocalypse?”

“Don’t apologize,” You say in a fakely stern manner. “You’ve already said sorry at least twenty times. Shut the hell up much? Anyway, my head’s fine. Mom’s aura is happier today, all yellow and stuff. I’m guessing it’s ‘cuz I’m leaving. The feeling’s mutual.”

“I bet you’re happy to see one person in particular.” Beverly teased. “A certain loudmouth with glasses? I swear, I showed you the picture for one second and you’re already making heart eyes at him.”

“Shut up!” You say. “I wasn’t- that’s ridiculous!”

“Really, because I heard he’s very tall now. You could climb him like a-”

“Christ, Beverly!” You exclaim. “You can’t say that! I implied it once. Once! Get off my back!”

Beverly laughed heartily on the other side of the line. “Bye loser.”

“Bye Bevy.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and ended the call, the empty feeling from before settling in the pit of your stomach like a shard of ice.

Beverly told you to be proud and confident. She said Derry was a weird place, that it sucked the happiness out of you like a black hole. She said it was like a literal black hole on earth, actually; brutal, and dark and unforgiving. You laughed it off, but there was a seriousness behind her joking expression that chilled you to the bone. Upon arrival at Derry via bus, the shard of ice in your stomach grew to the size of a golfball, or so it felt.

The town sign was falling apart. The town itself was almost empty compared to Portland, except for a few older women sitting on a park bench and some high schoolers drinking from a suspicious brown bag near the arcade, skipping class. The sun beat down on the buildings, giving them the same grainy texture of the polaroid photo Beverly gave you. Things seemed okay, until the schoolbell rang.

The bus you rode on just happened to drive by as the local high school let off and you pressed your face against the dirty glass window, fogging it up. Behind the misty glass, you saw the blurry outlines of their auras, the colors becoming one big blob behind the fogged up glass.

Frustrated, you rubbed your sleeve on the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of your new classmates, hoping to see if their auras were friendly or not. But when the condensation rubbed off, your breath caught in your throat. Among the stream of kids flowing from the main doors, there were only a few who were surrounded by the canary yellow of happiness, and the few who were wore a washed out yellow instead. There were sudden, angry flares of red around some, and not even a second later the crowd parted to allow two boys to start their fistfight. The purple mist of loathing was also prominent, swirling over their heads. Pale, barf colored green mixed with red rage.

Hints of midnight blue grief and sky blue sadness were visible if you squinted, but even that wasn’t what made your heart stop. All the auras were faded, ugly, discolored blobs of nothingness. The bus screeched to a halt at your aunt’s house and the driver practically glared you off. You shouldered your stuffed backpack and hopped down the bus stairs, dropping them next to the only lamp post on the street. The doorbell of your Aunt Lia’s house was loud and she answered almost immediately with a hug and squealing.

You glanced briefly behind your shoulder at the high school down the street, kids clumping together in groups. There was a thunder gray cloud hanging over the head of nearly each person.

“Are you alright hon?” Aunt Lia asks. Her beautifully young face bore a smile but her soft brown eyes showed worry. 

Your nodded soundlessly, but your mind worked a thousand times faster now. You’d seen blues, greens, reds, purples and hell, even gold for achievement and black for death, but this was different. Never, not once in your life, had you seen an aura that was grey.

The bell was about to ring, you knew it. Your first day at a new school and you’d be late. Absolutely wonderful. You reached behind you to zip your backpack up, all while running at full speed to the school. Not even a thirty seconds later, the loud bell echoed across the school grounds. That’s it. I’m dead. You burst through the front doors and into the empty main hallway, checking the class schedule in your hand. Room 208, Room 210… You counted off in your head, the numbers blurring as you sped by. Aha! Room 212! And before you could think to slow down, you practically sprinted into the classroom, skidding to a halt after sliding through half the room. Everyone looked up. Every. Single. Person. The teacher stopped his introduction, eyeing you up and down with extreme irritation, bordering on rage.

“I, uh-I’m n-new.” You stutter, realizing how greatly you just humiliated yourself. A group of girls near the front snicker. “New s-student.”

“Usually I don’t let anyone in the classroom after the bell,” The says, staring at you from over the rims of his horned glasses. “But since it’s the first day…”

He strides over to his desk and checks a paper. “You’re (Name)?”

“Yup. That’s-that’s me.” You answer awkwardly, trying to ignore the new round of giggles that broke out among the students.

“Your brother was my student, correct?”

For a moment, your brain melts, then goes into overdrive. Of course he’d mention that. In front of the entire class, too. Beverly said they wouldn’t find out! Beverly promised they-

“Y-yes sir.”

The teacher nods curtly and wrinkles his nose in disdain before addressing his students, who still wore smug smirks. “Everyone give a warm welcome,” He says, putting sarcastic emphasis on ‘warm welcome’. “To Miss (Name) Bowers.”

The room froze. Smiles melted off people’s faces, laughter came to an abrupt halt and time flowed like molasses. You took tentative steps to the back of the classroom, passing a sea of shell shocked faces. You passed the group of girls at the front, barely managed to walk by the burly boys in the middle, but near the back…

A couple boys looked at you with utter loathing. For a moment, you thought it was a trick of the mind. Why would they be scared of you? That’s ridiculous! But you glanced down at Beverly’s photo, clipped to your class schedule, and it explained everything. The extremely tall, deathly thin boy to the right looked like a skeletal version of Bill from the photo, his cheekbones sticking out like sharped knives. The boy a row ahead of him looked like Mike but his pupils were pinpoints, watching you like a hawks eyes, his hands clawing at the desk as if eager to grab your neck. You veered away on instinct.

On your left sat one boy with a dark mop of curly hair, slumped in his chair, observing you through half lidded eyes, a lit cigarette in the hand he hid under his desk. He was impossibly pale, the only true color to his face were dark bags under his eyes that looked more like bruises than anything. You were shaken out of your daze when you nearly tripped over the chair’s leg at your desk in the very back row. His stare followed you, so seemingly calm, but there was a burning, quiet rage behind them. Richie Tozier.

[motherpsyduck]

House Guest

Chapter 4: Reckless Scorpion

You turn to see what Trevor was going to say or do next, but he’s already near the entrance of the building. You follow and watch him greet the bouncer then strut into his establishment. You give a passing nod to the large bouncer and enter Vanilla Unicorn. As you turn the corner you see a strip pole on a stage with a woman grinding on the long metal beam that connects to the ceiling. The heavy bass from the music makes your ribcage rattle inside you. You can’t help but stare at the woman as she does her routine. She’s mesmerising. You’re trying to enjoy the pole dancer but can’t help but hear a faint voice calling your name. It’s difficult to hear which direction it’s being shouted from as the music is too loud to hear very much over it. It’s also so poorly lit inside that you squint to focus your gaze but still can’t pinpoint where the voice is coming from. Then you spot a heavy upper arm reach up to catch your attention, it’s waving. It’s Trevor’s and he’s calling you over to the bar. You inhale some clammy air and approach him.

“What?” You shout to Trevor before he slides you a shot.

“Here.”

“What’s this for?” You ask.

“It’s an apology for earlier, I got carried away.” Trevor held his shot glass up to clink with yours. You picked yours up and reciprocated the gesture. You downed the amber liquid before Trevor, and slammed your glass down on the bar.

“Apology accepted.” You croak from your throat tingling.

“Alright! I like a woman who can handle a drink.” Trevor gulps down his glass and grunts. “Two more please barkeep!” The lady behind the bar pours another shot into both of your glasses. “As far as stuck up colleges go, which is pretty much all of them, why did you choose a shithole like LS of all the places?” Trevor asked then drank another shot. You both lean on the bar with your elbows and watch the pole dancer. Without taking your eyes of the woman on stage, you answered him.

“I didn’t really have a choice, I was chosen at random. Tracey signed herself up to house foreign students and I wanted to live somewhere new for a while. I didn’t know or care where I went.” You replied honestly.

“Things are rough at home huh?”

“You could say that.” You turn and down your second shot to try and numb any emotions that were manifesting. You request another shot, but Trevor lowers your hand. The bar maid waits for Trevor’s confirmation before she decides to pour.

“Hey, slow down there missy. Michael won’t be too happy if I take you back drunk as skunk now would he?”

“What do you care?” You yank your arm from Trevor’s grasp. He’s confused.

“I don’t. Thought you might though.”

“Well I don’t. I want to drink.” You push your glass closer to the bar maid and she glances at Trevor. He waves his hand and she proceeds to pour you another shot. You toss it down your neck and place the glass back on the bar. The bar maid finishes pouring more whiskey in Trevor’s shot glass and you watch him swallow it down his thick throat. You’re studying his Cut Here tattoo. You admire how original it is. He catches you staring at him and places his glass back down on the bar. Trevor wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans in close. You can already feel the effects of the alcohol on your system.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll show you how to fuckin’ party.”

After a few more shots of vodka and whiskey whilst trying to keep up with Trevor, the two of you stumble out of the door of the strip club and Trevor hails a taxi. While you wait, you’re curious as to why your jean pocket is vibrating. You feel around clumsily and slide your vibrating phone and squint at the screen. When your vision stayed still the bright glass read: “Tracey Calling”. You’re about to answer it before Trevor pulls you into a cab. The two of you fall into the backseat and Trevor slurs something to the driver and orders him to change the radio station. Your phone has stopped vibrating in your hand and you remember you’re still holding it so you glance at the screen again. “10 Missed Calls from Tracey”. You decide to worry about it later and slip it back into your jean pocket.

It doesn’t take very long for the cabby to bring the car to a halt outside a nightclub. You ducked your head to look out the window your heavier-than-usual head was resting on, and your brain slowly registered the letters into words that spelled out “Bahamas Mamas”. This city really likes to use pink neon on their signs. After the cabbie scrambles for the money Trevor carelessly throws at him, you both exit the cab and enter the night club. It’s not much different to Vanilla Unicorn except the air is less warm and there aren’t women stuck to poles on a stage. Mike Posner’s Cooler Than Me is playing as you stagger to the bar. You clink glasses with Trevor again and make a sour face as the strong alcohol burns your throat.

“You’re a-a-strange one.” Trevor sways as his brain comes up with the words slowly.

“... What?” You reply trying your hardest to look Trevor in the eye and also keeping your legs from turning fully into jelly.

“You’re a-like-a... kid... but you’re not... you have an old head... on young shoulders.” Trevor signals the bar tender for more alcohol.

“Did-did you just call my head old?” The conversation may as well have been nonsense at this point but Trevor was trying to compliment you somehow. He nearly spills his newly poured shot on you as he raises his hand in exclamation.

“Yeah! In a good way... your mind is mature y’know?” You’ve lost count how many shots you and Trevor have swallowed up to this point. “Amigo! Dos beers por favour!” Trevor shouts to the bar man. The bar man ignores Trevor. You glance over and discover why, the barman is trying to chat up an attractive woman. Trevor waits for a few seconds but then reaches his long arm over the bar and steals two bottles of beer for himself and you. You gasp quietly and cover your mouth and giggle. After a few tries of completely missing the bar, Trevor clips the bottle caps off at an angle on the side of the bar and hands you yours. You take a huge swig and thank him.

The two of you lean on the bar waiting for the other to suggest you move to the dance floor. You listen and begin to recognise songs that are playing in the club and the next one that you can hear makes you very excited. Yeah by Usher begins playing and you turn to Trevor open mouthed and smile. He smiles widely back at you. You’re excitement rubs off on him but he has no idea why.

“I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG! C’MON!” You hold Trevor by the hand and he drags his toes as he’s pulled to the dance floor.

When you reach a gap in the crowd you let go of his hot hand. You close your eyes and are completely and utterly in the moment dancing. You don’t care if you look ridiculous you’re swaying and moving to the music. Trevor can’t stop staring at you. He blinks hard and raises his eyebrows after taking another glug of his beer to watch you in the dim, smoky light. His jaw is hanging slightly. As you move your body, your hair is illuminated every now and then from the strobe lights rotating and stretching around the room. Once you open your eyes and see Trevor trying his best to dance with his long flailing limbs. The sight just makes you smile.

As he’s turning, you swing him around by one of his hard shoulders. Trevor looks down at you and moistens his throat with some beer. You eye up his lips and whisper in his ear to tease him.

“Follow me.” Trevor hears you loud and clear and you find a quiet corner of the dance floor and push him up against the dark wall. He grunts with pleasure as he hits the wall with force. Trevor gives you a half smile and an evil stare that sends you wild. Your hands are slowly caressing his solid, muscular chest on top of his army green shirt. Your bodies are inches from each other as you drunkenly kiss his mouth. He’s gentler than you expected until his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You’re still kissing Trevor and feel him inhaling air in small, quick bursts as your hand hovers and touches the crotch of his jeans. The last thing you remember feeling is Trevor’s grip strengthening on your behind as you stroke his hardening penis.

-

You’re startled by an unknown, harsh buzzing sound that rudely awakens you. You’re half dead when you pull open your eyes but all you can see is complete darkness. Ugh. What is that noise? You groan at the muffled music you can hear and toss and turn to try and to go back to sleep but you misjudge the length of what you thought was your bed and roll onto a sticky floor. You squint and blink your eyes to moisten them before focusing on your surroundings. Even blinking was making your head throb. You rub your eyes and try to register where you were, but you don’t recognise this room. You exhale with frustration and run your fingers through your hair to try and tame the bed hair. You begin to feel a strange chill and look down at yourself to investigate why, and finally realise you’re only wearing your lacy knickers. You feel around for the blanket as you’re vision is still slightly blury. Thankfully the sheet still held some of your warmth and you wrapped yourself in it like it was a towel.

You hunt down the source of the loud vibrations. It was your phone on a desk next to a computer monitor. It takes you some time to focus on the screen and you read: 10 Missed Calls from Tracey, 4 Texts from Tracey. You swipe to unlock your phone and read the following text messages:

“Y/N where are you?”

“Seriously, where did you go? Jimmy said he saw you from his window. You got in a car with Trevor and Franklin?”

“My mom and dad are worried. WHERE ARE YOU?”

“This isn’t funny anymore Y/N.”

You glance up from your phone and try to figure out where exactly you were. You look through the pile of papers next to the keyboard to find something, anything. You see a familiar business logo and name in a header of a printed letter. Oh no. Vanilla Unicorn. I’m at the fucking strip club?! Where the fuck are my clothes?! But just as you turn to pinpoint their location the door to the room swings open and you just stand there frozen.

“Good morning!” Trevor is annoyingly loud and chipper. You watch him check his phone for the time. “Wow, or should I say afternoon.” He puts his phone away and approaches you. You hold a hand up and stretched out your arm defensively to keep him away.

“Trevor, where are my clothes?” You say slowly and with a very serious tone. You weren’t in the mood to be playful, not with this bad of a hangover.

“Oh. No ‘thanks for letting me stay on your sofa Trevor’ or ‘thanks for giving me a blanket to cover my naked body Trevor’. I gave you the courtesy of partying with THE Trevor Philips and this is the thanks I get?” You weren’t sure if Trevor was joking or was genuinely irritated.

“Just tell me where my clothes are Trevor.” You’ve lost your patience. Trevor frowns his thick brow and exhales with his tongue poking the roof of his mouth. He wanted to see you squirm for a few more seconds before answering.

“Over there on that box of flyers.” Trevor points lazily.

“Thanks.” You rush over to the box by the back door of the office and see your clothes hanging on the side of the box as well as in messy clumps next to it. You bring the pile of clothing to the couch and were just about to remove your towel that was wrapped around you, before remembering Trevor was still present.

“Trev, do you mind?”

“Not at all cupcake. Not-at-all.” Trevor says with a creepy chuckle. You stare him down so he realises you’re serious and he rolls his dark coffee coloured eyes and faces his back to you. You throw your clothes on as quickly as you can and toss the blanket back onto the sofa. You slip your phone into your pocket and sit yourself on the sofa to tie your shoes.

“Ok. You can look now” Trevor turns and is about to give you another cheeky quip before you interrupt him. “By the way Trevor, can you tell me why I woke up practically naked in your strip club please?” You cannot for the life of you recall a memory from beyond the night club you visited and you don’t remember removing any item of clothing.

“You don’t remember?” Trevor says with a serious look.

“No.” You massaged your temples of your skull for some relief.

“Are you sure?” Trevor was dragging this on as long as he could. He leaned against the desk opposite the sofa you sat on. You had to look up at him.

“YES I’M SURE! Can you just tell me please?!”

“You stripped yourself darlin’. I had nothing to do with de-clothing you.” Trevor raised his palms.

“I stripped... myself?... Why?”

“You wanted to strip.” Trevor verified as he crossed his arms. He seemed to be keeping in a laugh to himself about something you had no idea about.

“I know. You just said that. I’m just trying to remember why-” Bits of last night came rushing back to you. When they did, you gasped in horror at what you eventually remember. You spoke whilst exhaling. “... NOOO”

“YEEEESSS!” Trevor was delighted at your embarrassment.

“Please tell me I didn’t. PLEASE” You tried hiding your face.

“I’m sorry to say sugar, well; actually I’m not sorry, that you did in fact walk down the stripper stage wearing just those lacy panties.”

“In front of people?” You squeaked from behind your hands. Trevor nodded sympathetically but then couldn’t stop himself from exploding from laughter. You peak through the gaps in between your fingers and speak. “Are you sure?”

“You gave my girls a run for their money let me tell you. Look, I’ll show you the security footage if you like.” Trevor was revelling in tormenting you and may as well have skipped to the computer to bring up the footage of last night. You lowered your hands and stood next to Trevor as the two of you watched the show from last night. You saw yourself staggering and stumbling on stage and try to swing on the pole at the end of the runway, only to fall off disgracefully hit your head on the railing below you. You reach for the back of your skull and wince from the forgotten pain from the bump. “See! Naked. Naked. Naked. Naked.” Trevor points at the monitor as he presses a key on the keyboard so the footage cuts to different angles.

“Wait, that can’t be me” You point at the screen. Trevor looks at you unsure what conclusion you were about to come to. “I don’t have a tattoo there- OW” You poke a sore area at the top of your left breast with the tips of your fingers. You’re confused as to why you felt pain and look down your top and stare at your skin in horror. You lick your thumb and try to rub at your skin but it was permanent and you winced as you touched it. You’re distracted enough to not notice Trevor trying to peek down your shirt also. You drop the material of your shirt and place your palm on your eyelids.

“I forgot about that.” Trevor pointed at your breast and spoke. You watched his face light up as he reminisced about the night before. “You dragged us to a tattoo place before we came back here. Begged the guy to draw something, what was it?”

“It’s a black scorpion.” You reply with an annoyed shrug. You then glance at Trevor’s hands resting on the keyboard. You notice he has a very similar scorpion tattoo on his right hand in between his thumb and index finger. “It’s the same one on your hand!” You point at Trevor’s hand and he looks down at it with a frown then back at you. You sigh and pull your t-shirt down to only reveal the scorpion tattoo. Trevor was only allowed to glance at it for a couple seconds before you position the material back over to cover the tattoo. It seemed to align with Trevor’s on his hand as if he was cupping your breast.  “I bet you put me up to this.” You say through your teeth.

“Probably, but I can’t remember sugar.” Trevor replies with a cheerful tone. It makes your blood boil. He stands up straight, away from the computer screen and leads you to the back door of the office.

“Where are we going now?” You ask as you shield your eyes from the blinding sunlight. You follow Trevor to his red pickup truck parked around the front of the building. Trevor replies as he gets close to his car.

“De Santa residence. I said I’d get you home, and what am I if not a man of my word? Michael will be worried sick!” Trevor said as he sat in the driver’s seat and closed the door. You study his choice of vehicle. You’re curious as to why there’s a one eyed teddy bear wearing a thong pinned to the front grill of the truck, but decide to go with why there’s no roof to the car. You climb into the car with Trevor and point with your thumb to where the roof should be.

“What if it rains?”

“Then you’ll get wet.” Trevor said harshly. His bluntness made you laugh. Laughing made your head hurt. You pull your seatbelt down and lock it in place and Trevor puts his keys in the ignition. Soon the two of you were arguing over which radio station to listen to whilst Trevor drove erratically through traffic.

-

You recognise the familiar curved driveway of Tracey’s house and before the car came to a hard stop Trevor punches the horn a few times to signal your arrival. You remove yourself from the truck and watch as Tracey races out the front door. She hangs up her phone and calls back into the house confirming it is you returning. She runs from the door to hug you. You’re nearly pushed backward from the amount of force Tracey hit you with. Amanda emerges and then Michael looking as furious as one another. Tracey lets go of you and walks with you back to the house. Amanda stops Tracey from taking you inside. Trevor steps out and stands in front of his truck to observe.

“Just a minute Tracey,” Amanda holds her arm out. Tracey doesn’t argue. You watch Amanda turn to you. “Y/N where have you been?!”

“With Trevor.” Amanda glances at Trevor and he smiles proudly. She gives him a disgusted look.

“I can see that.” She turns back to you expecting more of an explanation. You don’t give one so Amanda continues to speak. “Look Y/N I can’t control what you do in your spare time. You’re not a child and I’m not your mother, but the college did assign us as your guardians whilst you’re studying. If you’re going to live in our home you have to tell us when you’ll be out all hours of the night. You can come and go as you please just give us a heads up next time and answer your phone.”

“Yes Mrs De Santa. Sorry.”

“What the fuck were you doing with Trevor anyway? Jimmy said he saw you two get in a car with Franklin.” Michael piped up. He began speaking directly to you but soon turned to Trevor who answered for you.

“Well, that’s none of your concern Mikey boy.” Trevor snapped back.

“It is my concern when it involves her! We’re her guardians T. For Christ sake, she looks like she’s been taking meth or some shit.” Michael strains his voice. Amanda and Tracey look at Trevor for a reply. You worry and look to Trevor in horror. Trevor shakes his head at you and you sigh with relief.

“She hasn’t been taking meth, calm down sugar tits.”

“Then what were you doing? She doesn’t look well T.” You were getting annoyed how much Michael was talking to others about you in front of you, but not actually talking directly to you. You’re patience was short due to your hangover.

“HEY. I can speak for myself!” You shout. Michael is surprised and looks at you waiting for your next word. “It doesn’t matter where I’ve been or what I did. It’s done. I don’t have to answer to you or Mrs De Santa, sorry, Amanda. I’m sorry I didn’t answer my calls, that was stupid and reckless and it won’t happen again. I would like to keep living here if you’ll have me; your home and family are lovely but I don’t need to be checked up on.”

“Clearly!” Michael replies with sarcasm. “I mean, you look fine! You can barely stand.”

“I drank alcohol, that’s all I did. I’ve seen plenty of other adults drink alcohol.” You shot back.

“Well that’s not all you did...” Trevor mumbles. Thankfully only you heard it. Michael doesn’t know what else to say. Amanda waits for anyone else to add anything before she places her hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N what Michael’s trying to say is that we were worried. We would be the ones in the shit with the college if we lost you. From now on please tell me if you decide you need to get away. Ok?” Amanda tries to defuse the situation and rubs the side of your arm then smiles at you.

“I will.” You smile back.

“Let me put mine and Michael’s numbers in your phone so if you can’t reach me you can reach Michael.” You pass your phone to Amanda and she puts the numbers into your contacts and hands your phone back to you.

“You have my number right?” Tracey finally feels it’s safe to speak.

“Yes. You gave it to me yesterday in class.” You smile at her.

“Oh yeah! Ok I’m going inside. Nice to see you again Uncle Trevor!” Tracey waves goodbye to Trevor and disappears inside with Amanda.

“You too Tracey.” Trevor says with a genuine smile. Amanda rudely tries to ignore Trevor as she makes her way inside but he’s aware of this and waves her goodbye. “BYE BYE AMANDA!” Trevor begins walking back to the driver’s seat and opens the door.

“Thanks Trevor.” You say as he gets into his truck.

“My pleasure Y/N.” Trevor nods and starts his car. He stretches his chunky arm over the headrest of the passenger seat, and his neck over his shoulder to reverse his car out of Michael’s drive and leaves. Once Trevor is out of sight, you turn back to face Michael.

“How are you not completely and utterly shit scared of him?” Michael asks bluntly.

“I dunno.” You shrug whilst looking at your feet. You’re giddy from spending time with Trevor but also from being so tired. You look into Michael’s baby blue eyes. “How are you not shit scared of him?”

“I am.” Michael replies as he lets you enter his home first. He shakes his head as he follows you in. The front door swings back and closes. - [<-CH3] [CH5->] [<-CH1]