#anyway I think I'm gonna poke my head in the corner store on my way home from voting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

y0itsbri · 3 years ago

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gallavich week 2021 - day 7 - meet ugly

thank you to @ianandmickeygallavich for the inspo // @gallavichthings

Prompt: Ian and Mickey are neighbors in an apartment complex. They haven’t ever interacted, but one day they get stuck the elevator. One of them doesn’t like confined spaces but doesn’t share this so the other one assumes he is freaking out for no reason.

Words: 3.5k

"I'm going out tonight, dickbreath!" Mandy announced, popping her head out of the bathroom. She was wearing a short sequined dress, fitted tightly to her body and only halfway zipped up so it slipped part way down her shoulders.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Mickey called from his recliner in the living room with an Old Style in hand. Work has been absolutely kicking his ass this week and he wanted nothing more than a chill night in.

"Oh, c'mon, now that's no fun. You don't do anything," she accused.

"That's not true!" Mickey grumbled, remote in hand and flicking past some news channels onto some good shit -- finally. Rerun of Jurassic Park.

"What're your plans for the evening then, hot shot?" Mandy teased as she applied yet another layer of mascara on her already blackened eyelashes, "Dinosaur movies all night?"

"Might go to the corner store for some smokes."

"Please get something to eat while you're at it. We have like nothing in here." She waltzed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and grimaced. He could admit that a grocery run was, in fact, long overdue.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Serious, Mick." Mandy gave him the look. The Look being the same Look that his mother used to give him when he was being a little shit.

Fine. "Got it. I'll eat something." She smiled at that.

"Thank youuu," Mandy dragged the word out as she leaned over to kiss his forehead.

"Gross."

"Ditto. Zip me up?"

Mandy had headed out awhile ago -- long enough ago that Mickey was now halfway through his second 'dinosaur movie.' He should really visit his dinosaur guy again soon, he's probably got some cool new shit. Mickey sighed and got up, idling over to the kitchen.

He downed a full glass of water and opened the fridge. Yeah, unless he wanted to eat a pickle with ketchup and beer, he needed to go out. He debated ordering in, but he needed to go to the corner store anyways. Two birds one stone kind of situation.

Mickey threw on his favorite pair of sweatpants and his Davie Bowie tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. It was a good shirt. Mickey thought Bowie was hot -- fuckin' alien-looking, but hot, nonetheless.

Mickey shoved his wallet and phone in his pockets and locked up his apartment. Maybe Ernie would have the good roast beef sandwiches today.

His thoughts about dinner plans subsided as he noticed the guy waiting for the elevator.

Mickey had seen the ginger around. He was hard to miss -- fuckin' tall, always going out for runs early in the morning in short shorts and coming back all sweaty, always had a million fucking people coming and going from his apartment. They lived on opposite ends of the hall, but Mickey had never actually spoken to him before.

Mandy had given her brother lots of shit for acting so goddamn unapproachable and that's why he has no friends. Mickey didn't want to be friends with everyone, but he wouldn't mind spending some time with the hot red-head down the hall... eventually.

But he was waiting for the elevator with him right now. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact in fear that it would lead to small talk which would then lead Mickey to inevitably embarrass himself. He couldn't blow his shot. Mandy did the small talk, not him. He took out his phone and scrolled through Instagram even though none of the photos were loading.

He hardly looked up when the elevator arrived and he stepped into it, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. Maybe it was an unreasonable amount of space, but it still wasn't enough for Mickey. He could still smell the guy's cologne. And it was infuriatingly attractive.

"Ground floor?" The man's voice practically sent heat down Mickey's spine. This was going to be a long ride.

"Uh, yeah." Nice, Mick. Not embarrassing at all.

"Great." It hung in the air, a tinge of awkwardness to it.

Out of the corner of his eye Mickey could see the the man leaning against the elevator wall, crossing his ankles as he not-so-subtly stared Mickey's direction.

Mickey was running out of things to check on the his phone and he was about to give in and finally make eye contact when he felt a shift. Then an ungodly clanging of metal. And a stop.

Fuck.

He glanced up at the dial. Sure enough they were stopped between floors, and not at all near the ground.

"The fuck?"

"What?" The red-head locked confused eyes with Mickey's.

"We're stopped. Why the fuck are we stopped?"

"Hm," The guy poked around at the open doors button and nothing happened. "I don't know."

All hopes of positive small talk was out the window as Mickey went into full panic mode. He did not like small, confined spaces -- which happened to be exactly what his current predicament entailed.

"You open the doors!" Mickey practically shrieked.

"Why me!?" The attractive guy spit back.

"You work out and shit -- do I look like I could pry those fuckers apart?"

"Well..." The red-head took a moment to size up Mickey's smaller form. "Yes, you do actually- but these doors are heavy as fuck. We don't have like super strength."

"Fuck you."

"Uh, fuck me!?"

"Yeah, fuck you. Not even tryin' and now we're both going to fuckin' die in here. Any last words, Red?"

He rolled his eyes. "We're not going to die. Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Don't you think you're being a little too calm considering we're stuck?"

"Oh. You're freaking out."

"No shit I'm freaking out, Sherlock." Mickey ran his hands down his face. This was not fucking happening to him right now.

"Hey, take deep breaths."

"Can't. Gonna die." Mickey gasped.

"Well, if you can't breathe, you're definitely going to pass out."

Mickey shot him panicked eyes.

"Hey, hey it's okay. Just look at me."

Mickey could do that.

"Copy me. In-" He inhaled, chest expanding.

"Out-" Mickey felt his breath on his face. In any circumstance, a stranger breathing on him would warrant a punch in the gut, but now it was more grounding than anything else. They repeated that motion a few times.

"Good. See, you can breath."

"What are you? A fuckin' doctor?" Mickey huffed a laugh in disbelief.

"Been to enough," he chuckled.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. But, uh- look, see, I'll hit the emergency button and someone will come get us soon. It'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive. Got stuck in one of these with my sister when I was little, kinda scary at first but we were out in practically no time. She sang to me to pass the time, but I take it you don't want me to sing to you?"

That earned a full-bellied laugh from Mickey, "Not yet."

The man grinned goofily like a golden retriever.

They were silent for a moment.

"So, uh, what's your name?" The red-head asked, gazing curiously at Mickey.

Mickey just stared back at him.

"Your name?" He repeated gently.

"Mickey."

"Mickey," He said it so soft like a prayer. "I like it. I'm Ian."

He had no idea what he expected, but it wasn't Ian. Ian was fitting, though. Ian was good.

Ian had hit the emergency button a few times for good measure while Mickey had tried to call Mandy to no success. They settled onto the floor, leaning against opposite walls, feet nearly colliding in the center. Neither made a move to completely avoid that.

After Mickey had calmed down a bit, they fell into bouts of comfortable conversation and comfortable silence.

"I thought you just hated me." Ian mumbled after a bit.

"What I hate is being trapped here." Mickey stared at the walls threatening to enclose around them. He closed his eyes so he didn't start to panic again.

"Even before this."

"Oh?" That was news to Mickey. That was never his intent.

"Yeah, I always see you around, but you never seem to see me." Ian looked to the ground when he said it.

"I've seen ya plenty. You're the dork with the short ass shorts."

Ian smirked, "I guess I am."

"Hard to miss, man."

"You too. I've wanted to say hi for like months, but you always looked like you were ready to snap me in half or something. I kinda like my limbs in tact."

Mickey swiped his thumb against his nose and sniffed, embarrassed, "Sister says I scare everyone away. Used to be a good thing."

"Sister... wait, wait, wait, hold up. You're Mandy's brother, aren't you?"

"You know Mandy? Oh god, you're not banging her, are you?" That would throw a wrench in his plans.

"Oh god, no!" Ian threw his hands up in a mock surrender like that was the most repulsive thing he's ever heard.

"Something wrong with my sister?" Mickey grew defensive. She may be a lot to handle at times, but she was still his sister.

"No, no, she's great! 'm just not into... well, uh- I'm- let's just say that if you had a brother, maybe I'd be banging him." He grimaced.

Watching Ian stumble over his words after being so confident about everything else was a bit amusing.

"Oh -- cool." Mickey wasn't used to such obvious disclosures about sexuality with strangers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mickey avoided all eye contact.

"So?"

Ian paused until Mickey was able to look at him again.

"So, what?"

"Do you have any brothers?" A playful flicker in Ian's eyes made it obvious that he was just being a little shit now.

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't answer my question still."

"Yeah, I have brothers, but they'd uh- let's just say definitely not be into that."

"And you're... not not into that?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. His lack of denial was basically a confession and they both knew it.

Ian smirked and knocked the toes of their shoes together.

Help announced itself to be coming soon over the tiny intercom embedded in the elevator. Sometime shortly after that, Ian had made his way over to the wall next to Mickey's, rather than across.

"Where were you going tonight?" Ian asked, turning to fully face Mickey.

"Nowhere." Nowhere interesting at least.

"Really? So you just take an elevator down to nowhere?"

"Alright, smart ass, I needed to get dinner. Gonna be a late dinner now that's for sure, fuckin' starving."

"Shit."

"What about you? Got a hot date or something?" Mickey eyed him up and down. Ian's outfit wasn't fancy by any means, but he still looked damn good in it.

"Oh, I wish," he winked, "Just going on a walk to clear my head. But this is working just as well."

"Good for you, man. My head is fuller than ever."

"What're you thinking about?" Ian's heavy breath practically bounced off his face. His gaze flickered to Ian's pouting lips. This was ridiculous.

Kissing you. Kissing you. Kissing you. "Nothing."

"Riiiight." Ian's eyes mimicked the same trail that Mickey's had just followed.

"Yup."

Ian scooted closer to Mickey and he swore his heart was beating so loud that even Ian could hear it. If he could, he made no indication. Instead, he eyed Mickey's hand resting on the floor. Gently, careful not to spook him, he caressed Mickey's fingers, nearing his tattooed knuckles.

Mickey fought the urge to yank his hand away. No one ever touched him so delicately, so sweetly. He figured that Ian would have guessed that, seeing his crude tattoos, but he wasn't acting like this was strange. So Mickey let him.

"Fuckin' hate them." Mickey murmured, watching Ian's fingertips tracing over the back of his hand.

Ian frowned.

"The tattoos."

"They're you. I'm sure they have a story."

"Wish I could forget it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have a pair of tits on my shoulder."

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!" Mickey pictured literal tits growing out of the man's back.

"Here, look," Ian turned, pulling his shirt up, revealing an insanely toned and insanely freckled back. Surely he was not about to be flashed in an elevator. But sure enough, tattooed on his shoulder was a pair of double-D's.

"Shit! Dude, what the fuck is up with that?" Mickey laughed.

Yeah, this made him feel better. At least he didn't have fucking titties tattooed on his knuckles, though he was sure someone in his family must have something like that. They're fucking idiots like that. Like Ian, apparently. But Ian was good.

"It was supposed to be my mom." Ian winced, pulling his shirt back down to cover it again.

"Mom must've been a banger." Mickey joked, still hardly containing his laughter.

"Ugh," Ian groaned dramatically. "Never gonna live that one down."

He threw his hands back on the ground, near Mickey's but not touching this time.

Experimentally and slowly, so slowly, Mickey hooked his fingers with Ian's and rubbed his thumb against Ian's hand. It was calloused, but so soft. It was a movement so gentle he hardly recognized himself, completely contradictory to the message literally written across his hands.

He was practically holding hands with a man in an elevator. Oh, if dear dad could see him now.

Moving out of his hell house with Mandy had been a good step, but it had taken Mickey years to unlearn his self-hate, allow himself to be. He still wasn't perfect, and he still felt years behind. But with Ian, it felt normal. It felt right and warm.

Right then, he felt the elevator shift again. He tightened his grip on Ian's hand. Ian returned the hold. If he was going to die, at least he wasn't going to die alone.

Mickey realized that they weren't falling down, but rather moving upwards.

They released their hands and leapt up to their feet as the door dinged open, revealing a small staff of maintenance personnel, not looking at all concerned that two men had just been trapped inside for an unspecified amount of time.

"Fuckin' finally!" Mickey ran out. He resisted the urge to drop to the floor and kiss the ground. He was dramatic, but he wasn't that dramatic.

Ian thanked the maintenance people then hurried along beside Mickey. They weren't on their floor, but they sure as hell weren't about to take the elevator again after all that.

"Hey, Mickey, wanna come back to my place? I think I still have some leftover lasagna if you're still hungry."

Mickey checked the time. Yeah, Ernie's place was definitely closed by now. Plus he really did just want to go back to Ian's. He glanced up to see Ian in almost full puppy-dog eyes. The dork was needlessly persuasive, he'd give him that.

"Yeah, sure. I could eat." He grinned like an idiot.

Ian nodded his head towards the stairwell, holding the door open for Mickey, who obediently followed up the steps.

Ian's apartment wasn't too different than Mickey and Mandy's, mirrored and maybe smaller, but it looked oddly inviting and definitely way more lived in -- almost too much décor and family photos hung up around the space.

"Uh, make yourself comfortable," Ian called as he rummaged through the cabinets, grabbing a couple plates to reheat some food for Mickey and himself.

Mickey was no stranger to feigning confidence in unfamiliar locations, but this felt different, more genuine. He actually respected Ian, the man having been kind and patient with him in a less than ideal situation.

He sat himself on the barstool at Ian's countertop and watched him. The gorgeous man who he had been eyeing in secret for months, who had helped him through a small panic attack, who had held his hand and traced his tattoos like they were art. Like Mickey was art.

"So, Bowie, huh?" Ian leaned against the counter, waiting out the timer on the microwave.

"What?"

"Your shirt," he pointed, and Mickey looked down.

"Oh, yeah. He's cool as fuck. Dope music."

"Got great hair, too."

"You would think so."

"Self-love, baby."

"Good for you." But there was no edge in his voice.

Ian smiled. The microwave beeped and they settled in, eating together with nothing but the awkward clanging of silverware and chewing. Mickey was too fucking starving and too fucking tired to care about formalities to give a shit at this point.

"Bet you didn't think you'd spend your night eating lasagna with a David Bowie look-alike, huh?" Ian teased over a mouthful of pasta.

"You wish, man."

"Hey, it's at least a little true."

"Yeah, you're both fuckin' aliens."

"Maybe so, but at least we're hot."

They both smiled around their forks, glancing over at each other a little too frequently with nothing but fondness.

Ian collected their plates when they were done, taking them over to the sink to wash them later. Mickey got up and followed him into the center of the kitchen, still sipping on his beer before setting it on the counter to his right.

In a move that shocked Ian, and even himself, Mickey moved into Ian's space and pressed his chest against Ian's back. He wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, feeling up the plains and softness of his stomach, feeling his breath hitch and his heart beat faster. Mickey's warm breath bounced off of Ian's neck and back onto his own face.

Ian sighed and placed his hands over Mickey's again. He leaned his head back onto Mickey's shoulder for a moment before wiggling free from Mickey's grip enough to turn around and face him, carding one of his hands through Mickey's dark hair.

"Mickey." He said it so soft. With so much admiration. Mickey couldn't take it anymore. He leaned up and pulled Ian's head down so they were the same height.

"Fuck, c'mere," he murmured, lips practically touching Ian's with the words.

Ian pressed their lips together. For all his gentle touches throughout the night, his kiss was anything but. Like he needed him to breathe.

Ian pushed him backwards towards the living room, stumbling over each others' feet in the process. Mickey greedily pulled down on Ian's neck, desperate not to let him go. Ian smiled into it and dropped backwards onto the couch cushions, pulling Mickey on top of him, making out like dumb teenagers.

Eventually, they settled and Mickey rested his head on Ian's chest while Ian rubbed his back and head comfortingly. Truthfully, he was beginning to panic a bit. He hadn't liked anyone in awhile, and Ian was very hard to not like.

"Are you good?"

Fuckin' mind reader.

"I don't know." Smooth, Mick.

"You don't know what?" Ian probed gently.

Mickey sighed, "How to do this," he answered honestly. There was no point in lying to Ian.

Ian kissed Mickey's forehead, "We can do this any way you want, alright? No rush, no pressure."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Ian scratched Mickey's head for a moment, "I've been waiting for you for awhile, Mick, I'll wait for however long you want."

Mickey leaned into his touch and then kissed his shoulder, "I want you, this."

"Me too." They smiled into each other. Safe together.

Neither made a move to push things further for the night. Ian had flicked on the tv to the same channel Mickey had on earlier, the Jurassic Park marathon still playing. After whatever movie was on now, Mickey decided he should head home. He was utterly exhausted after the day, and as much as he liked Ian, he didn't want to pass out in the guy's apartment -- though he was sure Ian wouldn't mind at this point, kind bastard.

After Ian had pulled Mickey into one last embrace, Mickey wretched open Ian's door, only to come face to face with his sister, makeup smudged and heels in hand after her night out.

She gasped way louder than fucking necessary, "You slut!"

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled pushing past her to head back to his own apartment.

"See ya later, Mick!" Ian called down the hall. Mickey didn't respond, but Ian took no offense. To be fair, he had just been caught red-handed by his very dramatic bitch of a sister.

Mandy grinned and looked between Mickey's retreating form and Ian's blushing face. "Oh my god, Ian! I knew it!"

"Hi, Mands." He ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck.

She gave a cheeky, knowing wave goodbye and took off barefoot after Mickey, "You fucker! I want all the details!"

"You ain't gettin' 'em, bitch!" He stormed inside, but left the door open for her behind him.

Mandy threw her shoes on the floor and met up with him in the kitchen, punching his arm lazily so he spilled his newly-opened beer down his hand. "The fuck?!"

"I'm so proud of you!" She made grabby hands at Mickey in attempts to smush his cheeks, but he weaseled out of there quick enough to avoid her gross hands. She may be fuckin' drunk, but she was still quick.

"Yeah, will well ya stop screaming it from the rooftops. Ian's gonna think I'm a fuckin' loser."

"Awww," She chased after him as he headed down the hall, "You are a loser, but that's besides the point! I've been waiting for this for weeks!"

"Night!" Mickey shut his bedroom door in Mandy's face. She'd get over it in a minute. Hell she was probably well on her way to passing out already. Maybe she'd get some details out of him tomorrow.

But tonight -- he reveled in the fact that he spent the night making out with his very kind, very dorky, very hot red-headed neighbor.

And when Mandy eventually moved out from their apartment and in with her girlfriend, Mickey had absolutely no problem finding a new red-headed roommate.

#gw2021 #gw2021day7 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #my posts #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

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hoediaz · 2 years ago

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for the ask game: F!! would love to know what dialogue youre most proud of (everything you write is SO good so im curious abt it!!)

omg THANK you so much that's so nice 🥺

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

ok this is. so hard bc i am Bad at complimenting myself nknknnd. i'll say that i Guess i'm pretty proud of most of the dialogue in the new girl au bc it's a lot of snappy group dialogue and i'm proud of all of taylor's dialogue in everything i've written her in just bc i have fun writing it nsknkk but for a specific scene i do love this exchange from tying you to me that i'll put under a cut to save everyone the length. i like that the dialogue itself is pretty short and straight to the point but it really cuts to the heart of the matter re: bucklucy and buck and eddie's shared trauma in this universe where they never met until the shooting, but that it's also clear that they understand each other. i also like the callback to earlier at the start of the fic, where buck tells eddie he wasn't in the bar (and eddie doesn't correct him, but then in this scene reveals that he already knew about lucy so he must have been in the bar) and that he doesn't look for him, only to admit that he's always looking for him. this fic was a lot about Soulmate-ism and Fate and Finding your way to someone that you're meant to know and i think this dialogue bit was just a good representation of that i GUESS idk no one look at me i hate being nice about my own shit

fanfic asks 🤩

the snippet in question:

Eddie says, “Why did you do it?”

There’s no point in playing dumb, but he has no idea what compels him to peel back his skin to admit, “Because it hurt.”

Another beat of silence. Eddie’s jaw shifts, clenches. “Yeah,” he says, almost too quiet to be heard over Buck’s playlist (and I have this dream where I’m screaming underwater). “I thought so.”

Buck feels horribly sober, a pressure on his chest he can hardly breathe around. He wants another shot, or maybe three. “You thought so? You don’t even know me.” He can’t quite keep the flint out of his tone.

Eddie doesn’t seem to care about Buck’s sharp edges, a soft smile ticking one side of his mouth up. “I guess I don’t.”

The thing is — Buck closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at Eddie when he admits, “It feels like you do, though.” It’s strange, pathetic; that sad kid that just wanted someone to see him poking his head out and asking to be turned away.

But Buck blinks his eyes open, never able to stop himself from putting his hand on a hot stove, and sees Eddie looking back. Eddie’s eyes are brown — not like Taylor’s blue, and not really anything like Lucy’s brown, either.

They’re at a stop sign.

Eddie says, “I know.” His head turns, gaze sliding away from Buck and toward the road. He doesn’t take his foot off the brake. Buck watches the corner of Eddie’s mouth tense, his hands too-tight on the wheel. “You think that’s just the —”

“Trauma?” Buck fills in, tasting copper on his tongue.

Eddie blinks. The car doesn’t move. “Yeah.”

“Are we gonna talk about that?”

Another blink, brittle tension lining his jaw. Buck can see fracture lines all over him, as familiar as his reflection in a mirror. “No,” he says, “we’re not gonna talk about that.”

“Okay.” Buck’s not sure he could, anyway, not with this many drinks in him, not with Lucy’s smile still acting like a fresh bruise on all of his damage.

But Buck’s never been able to stop himself from digging up graves.

“I lied, you know,” he says. Eddie turns to him, a furrow in his brow. “I did. Look for you, I mean. In the bar and — and on calls and, Christ, at the fucking grocery store. I’m always looking for you. Don’t know why.”

#asks #honeyeddie #ask games #THANK YOU AGAIN U ARE TOO NICE

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yourlocalslasher · 4 years ago

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Hello my dude! :D i was wondering if you take requests? If no, you can just ignore what i'm going to write...BUT IF YAS! Could you write something with Bo and a s/o who came from the real world? I mean i was wondering "what if, i don't know how, i ended up in Ambrose one day? Like in the movie?". So i was thinking of a scenario in which the reader ended up in Ambrose and was like "hey i know this place" and when they realise where they are (and how fucked they are) BOOM! Here comes Bo!

I- I actually really like this concept. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS IJUHYGFGH- And I might leave it on a cliffhanger, y’never know.💀💀

You clicked the TV off, taking a sip of the rest of your soda. “Not a bad one.” Standing, you took the movie out of the TV, slipping it back into its case. House of Wax was rumored to be a shitty movie, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

It had an interesting storyline. I mean, what better way to hide bodies than to cover them in hot wax to pass them off as art? Two psychopathic brothers who live in a deserted town...then the big reveal of the third brother. It wasn’t as bad as everyone claimed it to be.

You decided to turn in for the night, flipping off the lights as you climbed into bed. It was difficult to think of anything else but the movie. Wouldn’t it be awesome if you could just,...spend one day in Ambrose? Meet the characters? A horror fanatics dream.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the clock reading 12:04 am.

Timeskip to a week later

Driving. You’d been driving for hours. How far away was your grandparent's house anyway? You knew you were at least close to Texas, which was a relief.

You pulled over to stretch your legs. “Goddamn” Twisting and stretching, you heard your back crack a few times. The hot metal of the car burned your arms, but you rested them there anyway.

The exhaust from the truck was starting to make you sick. You turned away, staring down a dirt path that turned a corner. Why not stop? You snatched your backpack out the window of the car, throwing it on your back.

You’d brought some snacks with you, a few drinks, and an extra pair of clothes.

Walking down the short path, you saw the faint outline of a town. Thank god. Didn’t seem too far away. You headed off, the air dusty and stale.

As you neared the buildings, you felt a strange feeling of nostalgia. Like, listening to an 80′s song then coming back years later to jam out to it. You pulled out your phone, snapping pictures of anything you found interesting.

It was like a vintage town, frozen in time. But..the strange thing was...there didn’t seem to be any people? Deserted. Abandoned. The more you walked, the more you felt like you had lived here your whole life.

“Freaky..” You snapped a picture of an old diner, a weathered burger sign dangling by a thread above the door. More stores lined up the cracked road, all empty and lacking color.

You turned right, stopping dead in your tracks. A gas station. An...oddly familiar gas station. That's when it hit you.

“H-holy fuck-” Your phone was out of your pocket quicker than you could say horror movie. Snapping tons of pictures, you ran up to the gas station, excited as hell.

“Ambrose...” You read various signs on the glass windows of the station. “I-” It was impossible to contain your excitement. “I’m in fucking Ambrose?!”

Eagerly opening the glass door, you stepped inside. Dead silent. You couldn’t keep your hands off anything. You ran your fingers across everything. Taking as many pictures as you could per second, you giggled happily to yourself.

This HAD to be a movie set. As awesome as it was, there's no way it was real. Horror movies aren’t real. But that didn’t change the fact that you were overjoyed to be here.

You rushed through a second doorway, walking down a small flight of stairs. The air got cold, the smell of gasoline burning your nose. Ever so slightly, you opened a door to your right. You peered in.

There was a heap of dirty laundry by an unkempt bed, a few polaroid images hanging above it. There was a lamp on a desk, a TV behind it. Looking further into the room, you saw a metal chair with a metal worktable behind it.

They really did leave the whole set here...

You opened it more, stepping in to explore further. A huge grin plastered to your face, you poked and prodded at the various tools on the metal table. There was a fairly large cooler behind it, and you opened it for fun.

Your jaw dropped. “What the f-” You stumbled back, grasping the chair beside you. A body. It looked fresh too. Its eyes were lightly glazed over with a milky white. Blood dripping off its cheek, quickly hardened in the cold atmosphere.

This could not be some old movie prop. Props don’t bleed. You gathered your strength to close the cooler, turning away before you had more time to think about it.

You lifted your hand off the chair, gasping and yelping as you saw you had planted your hand in a fresh pool of blood. “Jesus fuck!” You wiped it off on your clothes, your heart beating loud in your chest.

Glancing over at the worktable, you examined the bloody pliers and knives resting on the edge. You tried putting everything together.

If you were actually in Ambrose...that means there's really a House of Wax. Which means this town is actually a death trap. Which means....oh fuck. If there's killing...then there's a killer.

You muttered under your breath. “Bo and Vincent...the killer brothers..” It was all coming together now. As much as you wanted to stay, meet the legends behind the kills, you knew they would just see you as another victim. Your life wouldn’t be any more special than the other victims. You had to leave.

You bolted up the stairs, trying to go as fast as your legs would take you. But you were soon stopped. A loud thud rang out, your head hitting the ground.

“An’ where do ya think yer goin’, eh?” A deep chuckle followed the rough country accent. Bo. You’d failed. You had become another kill in horror movie history. He stepped closer to you, humming to himself.

“I promise I ain’t gonna hurt ya, I swear.” Bo chuckled again, pressing his boot against your neck. What a hell of a way to die, you thought. The pressure increased, your air soon cut off.

You didn’t even have to look at him to see the smirk he had. You tried fighting it, but the more you did, the more pressure he applied to your neck. Everything around you faded, the only thing your body registered was the soft chuckle that left Bo.

“Sorry sugar, y’should know I ain’t good at keeping my promises.”

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eeveedel · 7 years ago

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Alex roughly eating louis that I'm all I'm sayin . Just a thought . I dunno . I haven't seen Dunkirk yet I'm gonna of spoilers

@celebratinglouis u send me the nastiest shit but also thank u.

this is just…it’s porn. it’s angst and porn and feminization kink and poor coping mechanisms. also it’s written in like three different tenses. listen, I’m sorry. I hope you like it anyways, bc this is a concept I could write…more of. Also a few Dunkirk spoilers!

————-

The train spewed steam, hot and compressed, behind him, and Alex still found the ability to push forward.

He hurt, and he couldn’t even identify where. His ears were ringing, and he’s only now noticing it. He thought his neck and his head might hurt, but then again, his wrist and his ankle might, too. It’s just everywhere. His eyes stung even though he was just asleep, his mouth tasted like warm beer and warmer water.

He blinked, and brought his hand up to his eyes, his other hand tightening on the strap of his pack. There’s no sunlight in the station, but he still feels like he should lift his hand, get a better view.

He’s standing there on the platform, three dimensions, full color. He’s wearing nearly the exact same thing he wore to the station the first time, the grey trousers and the brown braces and the big, open pale blue jumper that’s gotten paler, bordering on grey.

He’s the most beautiful thing Alex has ever seen. He’s the only beautiful thing he’s seen in a while.

Alex forced himself to take a few more steps, until he’s right there in front of him and he has to tilt his head down a bit to get a good look at him.

“Hi,” Louis said, and his voice was the same, raspy and Northern and soft, and Alex wanted to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him, dip him, spin him around like some of the other boys and their birds get to do.

But instead he just swallowed back the stiffness in his throat as Louis looked back at him carefully.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll get you home,”

***

The flat was the same, which is to say small and dirty, partly because both of them hate cleaning but mostly because it’s a place that was built dirty and will be destroyed dirty. Louis changed the sheets on their bed, and the bathroom at least looked decent. He offered to run Alex a bath but he refused, and instead used up the warm water they could spare filling the tub. Then he stripped down, leaving his dirt and oil soaked uniform on the tile floor. There was still oil and sand in his hair, around his nails, enough he wonders if it’ll ever wash out. He wonders how Louis could bear to kiss him once the door was closed.

When he pulled himself out of the bath, he saw that Louis had set out some clothes on the bed already, a pair set of drawers and an undershirt with the paper ribbon still on it, a starched overshirt folded neatly over top of it. Alex pushes the overshirt aside and just goes for the under things. He won’t be going out for a while.

He went back out to the kitchen, then, fully prepared to sit down at the table or to first fruitlessly offer to help Louis with something. But as soon as he was in the kitchen he stopped in the doorway, almost didn’t want to breath, just wanted to stay there and remember this, exactly, forever.

Louis was standing at the stove, the gas of the machine thick and hot in the air. There was a small carton of eggs next to his elbow, behind that, a paper bag of bread. His hair is the same, soft and getting too long, his lips poked out as he cuts a razor thin slice of butter into the pan.

He was wearing his slip. The silk ladies’ night slip that someone at the corner store probably still thought Alex bought for some bird. It looked beautiful on him, it always has, even if the silk is wore and the lace over his chest looked stiff and wrinkled and a little yellow. The slip fell to Louis’s knees, the thin straps clinging to the knobby bones of his shoulders, the rest of the fabric skimming over his waist, his hips.

He was thin. He’s always been little, but he’s thin, now, some of his softness chipped away by long nights and civilian rations. His knuckles stuck out a bit, his fingers look delicate while he cracked the eggs in the pan, lifted a fork to break them up.

“How long’s it been since you’ve had real eggs?” he asked. It took Alex a minute to answer. He can see every bone rotating in Louis’s wrist.

“A fair while,”

“You’ll get sick of them soon. Probably get sick of bread sooner,”

“I’m already tired of it,”

“Then we’re off to a good start,” Louis murmured. He pushed the eggs around, the bottoms sticking to congeal the pan and sticking.

Alex breathed in deeply and went over to him, then, putting his hands on him the second he could. He pulled the cool, slippery fabric of the slip up, got his hands on the swell of Louis’s behind.

“Missed you, babydoll,” he murmured into his neck, and Louis huffed, pushing an elbow back.

“Not now,” he sighed, “You’ll make me burn it,”

“You’ll burn it anyways,”

Louis huffed and jabbed his elbow back again, making Alex have to jump out of the way.

“Go sit down,” Louis said, “You want tea?”

“Sure,”

“I’ll put the water on after this, then,” Louis murmurs. He lifts his hand, wiping at his forehead. There’s sweat building there from the pure heat of the stove. The thin strap of his slip falls a bit and Louis grabs it, slips it back over his shoulder.

Alex used to think Louis had the kind of face that men won wars for. He probably told him as much at the station before he left.

Now he realizes how much it takes to win wars. He’ll have to come up with a new metaphor.

When Louis served him a plate, the eggs were dry and black in places and the bread’s not much better, but the tea was good and nearly milk-less, which is how Alex’s always liked it. Louis sat across the table from him, nursing a cup of tea of his own, and Alex kept glancing up at him as he ate.

“Come closer,” he muttered at one point around the egg and bread in his mouth, and Louis just shook his head.

“You eat,” Louis said easily, “You got skinny on me while you were gone,”

Alex’s throat immediately felt thick, since Louis looked worse off than he did, but he didn’t say anything, just cast his eyes back down and pulled more food into his mouth until the plate was clear. He drank down more tea, letting the food wash down, and then he brought his head right back up.

“Now come here,” he said, and this time Louis just nodded and stood, his slip shifting and falling easily back over his body as he went over and then cast himself easily on Alex’s lap, his legs sprawled on either side of the chair, his feet pressed to the floor.

“Hope this is what you wanted,” he said, and Alex could only nod, couldn’t even bring his hands up to grip him, not when his nails still had oil in them and Louis looked so clean.

Louis’s eyes were closed and he pushed forward, pressing a soft kiss to the swell of Alex’s Adam’s apple, then moved lowering, his lips brhsing the hollow of his throat.

Alex’s hands tightened on his waist as Louis kissed him. He wanted to wash away in the feeling, but he couldn’t, not when he had barely gotten a good look at Louis’s eyes earlier.

The boy he’d met on the mole, the one he had never bothered to ask a name for, had told him after the fact that the man with the blankets was blind, that it would make no difference with whether he looked up at him or not. But people at the first station had cast their eyes down, voices had flown like razors.

Them boys don’t deserve the Royal uniforms when all they did was wait for a pick up.

Alex swallowed roughly, blinking back the burning behind his eyes, and he squeezed Louis’s waist once, enough to get his attention.

“Can you look at me?” he asked, and Louis easily lifted his head. His eyes found Alex’s immediately, and they were soft and bright, a mirror of the smile on his lips.

“What do I look like to you?” Alex asked softly, and Louis snorted and draped his arms over Alex’s shoulders.

“What, you want a compliment?” he said, still smiling, “Just need someone to tell you you’re the prettiest thing since the Crown Jewels?”

Alex tried to swallow again, but he felt his face shift and harden, making Louis frown.

“Alex,” he said softly, “What is it?”

“I did some bad things,” he managed, and Louis shook his head.

“No, you didn’t,”

“I ran away,”

“You got evacuated,”

“I could’ve stayed,”

“Yeah, and then you would’ve been brave and dead in the fucking French sand and where would that leave me, huh?” Louis asked, and pushed forward, pressing their noses together, “Did you think that through?”

Alex licked his lips, “I’m sorry,”

Louis sighed and drew back, “Listen. I don’t know what it’s like out there. I got a heart that skips too many beats that keeps me here. But I know you weren’t gonna just run away for no good reason,”

Alex swallowed hard, shook his head, “I tried to kick someone off a ship. He was French. Didn’t even do anything wrong, I just didn’t want to die,”

“That’s a reasonable thing to want,”

“That’s fucking selfish,”

“Yeah. You’re selfish, I’m selfish. I would’ve forgiven the whole army dying if you wound up safe on my doorstep,” Louis said. His voice was hard, and Alex knew he wasn’t going to win this argument, if that’s what it even was. He never won any of their arguments. Louis had soft eyes and a hard head and those were tough to compete with.

Alex shook his head again and then tilted his chin down, looking at his own lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and Louis sighed and caught his fingers under Alex’s chin, making his gaze lift right back up.

“You’re home now,” he said softly, and Alex nodded.

“I know. I want to be home. I don’t want to think about that right now,”

Louis just looked at him carefully and nodded, shifting in Alex’s lap. As he moved, the strap of his slip fell down again, drooping to reveal more of his chest, a peaked, dusty nipple popping out. He lifted his shoulder, pressing it nearly to his ear as he gripped the wrinkled silk, tried to pull it back up to cover himself. Alex caught his wrist, made Louis loosen his fingers.

“Don’t you go acting coy on me,” he said, making his voice as light as he could manage. Louis blinked, then shook his head, smiling at the change in his tone.

“How were the birds in France?” he asked, “They pretty?”

“Not as pretty as you,”

“Not what I asked,”

Alex swallowed, and then shrugged, “Sure they were. Didn’t get much more of them,”

Louis lifted his brows, tilted his head.

“Yeah? What about those eight-pagers you boys pass around?” Louis asked, “Find something you like there?”

Alex swallowed, “No,”

He’d seen them. Of course he had. They were more valued than water and yet shared far more easily. He’d wanked to a picture in one of them once, a girl with dark hair and some blue shorts and not much else. He’d just covered the top part, kept the image of flared hips and a round bum and just pictured a firm chest and a stubble-sprinkled chin over top.

He liked girls just fine. But girls weren’t Louis. Neither were other boys, for that matter. For Alex, there was just him. Just Louis.

Louis smirked, shook his head.

“You just waitin’ around for me then, huh?” Louis said, and Alex nodded, which only made Louis laugh.

“I’d forgive you if you did, you know,” Louis said, “Find a dame you like, have some fun. I’d let it go,”

“No, you wouldn’t,”

“Sure I would,” Louis smirked, in a way that meant he certainly would not, except when he was following through with what game he was playing, “Because I’m still your favorite girl, right?”

Alex blinked up at Louis, at his sharp face and his parted, dry lips and his eyes, so big on his slimmer face.

“Huh?” Louis prompted again, and then lifted his hands and pushed on his chest, the push of it creating a small line between his pectorals, peeking over the edge of his neckline, “Don’t have a great rack like the other girls do but you don’t care, do you, love? You always liked what’s on the bottom, anyways,”

Alex licked his lips again, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

“You’d be right about that,”

“I know,” Louis smiled, then leaned forward, pushing his mouth firmly on Alex’s lax lips, “Come on then, handsome, you were all about that earlier, what’s the point of you having hands if you don’t put them to use?”

Alex lifted his hands, then, hesitating for a second. Louis gave him a sharp and expectant look, though, and then he pushed his hands forward and then back around. He gripped Louis’s bum in both hands, a thick swell under the slippery silk. Louis rolled his hips forward and Alex groaned shifting his own lap to meet him. His cock felt thick and hard in his drawers but he couldn’t get any friction on Louis, not when he was squirming around his lap.

“You got Vaseline?” he asked.

“Of course,” Louis scoffed, “You wanna be the one to go get it?”

Alex groaned, then shook his head.

“I got a better idea. Get up,”

Louis blinked at him but shifted himself, getting his feet flat on the floor and then lifting himself up until he was standing. Alex got up to, set his hands on Louis’s waist and then kicked at the chair behind him, giving them more room in front of the table. Louis’s gaze lifted, his eyes widening for just a moment before he looked back down and then turned, so his back was pressing to Alex’s front. Alex leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly to the side of Louis’s neck.

“Lean over,” he murmured, and Louis pushed himself closer to Alex’s touch but then leaned forward, setting his hands on the edge of the table. Alex pushed against the small of his back, his fingers barely getting traction against the slip.

“Yeah, come on, baby doll, show off for me,” he said, “You know you want to, wriggling around in your bed things like some call girl,”

Louis exhaled loudly and then pushed himself out, flattening his belly against the table and pushing his legs and hips out more. Alex got a hold of his hips and then roughly shoved up the back of the slip over the pale swell of Louis’s arse. His hands went right to his cheeks, then, and gave them a squeeze and then spread him out to see a tight hole and his pinkening cock and his swollen balls.

Alex lowered himself onto his knees, the tile of the kitchen biting his legs, and he nipped at the inside of Louis’s thigh. Louis yelped, high and strained, and Alex lapped over the pink mark on his leg before kissing it. He dragged his lips up the inside of his thigh, bit again at the soft swell of the underside of one cheek, which made Louis whimper a bit too loudly.

“We have neighbors,” Alex said a bit too firmly.

“I know,” Louis sighed, “Maybe they should put up with it. Nancy from upstairs got her husband back a month ago and I’ve had to listen to them try to make a baby every night since then,”

Alex laughed, pressing another kiss to Louis’s arse cheek.

“Could give you a baby if you wanted that,”

“Even if you could, I’d rather you give me whatever you’re planning back there,”

So Alex lifted his chin and pressed his mouth right to Louis’s hole, giving it a soft kiss that made the other man inhale sharply. Then he pushed in hard with the point of his tongue, keeping his lips hard and tight over the ring of muscle while he licked.

Louis twitched, his hips moving and pushing, and Alex flattened his tongue, lapping roughly a few times over his rim, keeping his hands tight on Louis’s thighs while he did. He lowered his lips, kissing the soft skin of his taint, and then lapped over the whole area, from the base of his rim to the very tops of his balls.

“Alex,” Louis exhaled, soft and sharp, “Alex, baby,”

He didn’t speak, mostly because he didn’t want to pull away. He kind of wanted to spin Louis around by his hips, get his cock in his mouth just to feel the weight of it, the way it perfectly filled his mouth without making his jaw too sore, so he could hold him in a place he could easily look up and see Louis’s face.

But when he brought his lips back to his rim, Louis gasped again, and it was enough to keep his mouth right there.

He kept his tongue pointed at firm, and he prodded at him, licking around his rim and the inside of his cheeks, then pushed straight into his hole like he was trying to open him up even without his finges. He’d flatten his tongue back out occasionally to lick broader strips over him, a few times he could put his tongue back entirely, kiss his hole and his taint and his balls. He lifted a hand, dragging it on the inside of Louis’s thigh, even reaching out to stroke at Loius’s length with his knuckles. He was hard, and leaking, and Alex’s own cock was thick and tight against his drawers, but he’d live if he could keep listening to the sweet, sweet sounds Louis kept making.

And then, suddenly, he had to pull away because Louis was crying.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked as he got back to his feet. Louis was collapsed fully on the table, his legs shaking and his head buried into his arms, and his shoulders were quaking. Alex touched his shoulder and tried to get him to turn over, and then went easily, his face pink and wet when he was finally on his back.

Alex opened his mouth to speak, to apologize or to at least ask if he was alright, but Louis beat him to the chase.

“I love you,” Louis gasped, “I love you, you understand me?”

Again, Alex tried to speak and he cut right in.

“Don’t you dare think it would’ve been better if you hadn’t come back,” Louis said, “I don’t care if they had to haul you out, you’re here now,”

Softer, he spoke again, “You’re here now,”

Alex nodded and leaned forward, hovering right over Louis.

“How am I supposed to leave you?” Alex murmured, “Pretty face like yours is what someone can dream of coming home to,”

Louis looked up at him easily, his face still so open, so forgiving, and when Alex spoke again, his voice was in danger of cracking and he didn’t even bother trying to swallow it down.

“I love you,” he said, “You’re the only person I’m ever going to love, baby doll,”

Louis gave him one more long, long look, and then grabbed his shirtfront and tugged him forward, narrowing his eyes as he did.

“You listen to me,” Louis said, “You go into the bedroom and find the Vaseline, and then you’re going to fuck me. Alright?”

Alex nodded, and Louis pushed his chest, enough to make him stumble back and trip over his feet as he went to the bedroom, found the tin of jelly in the top shelf of their shared dresser before he rushed right back to the kitchen, took his place in front of Louis’s easily sprawled body.

He slicked him down and held down his wrists, thrust his hips forward into him until the table quaked and the top of Louis’s slip slid all the way down, nearly to his waist. Louis cried out, loud and high, enough that if anyone heard they’d probably think he was a bird. He didn’t take him long for him to tremble and for his cock to spill all over the edge of his slip, a couple droplets slipping off his sharp hips and onto the table. It’d be a bitch to clean up, especially the cold water and scrubbing Louis would have to put into getting the slip back into shape. But Alex couldn’t even care, because he was pushing forward, spilling into Louis, making the other man groan weakly and buck back. His face was slick and pink, his hair limp.

When he opened his eyes, they were dark and far off and shifting, like the waves of a sea Alex actually wanted to remember.

Louis reached out a hand, and Alex let Louis grab the back of his neck, draw him forward, kiss his lips softly and then drag a thumb over his cheek. Alex’s throat felt tight, and when Louis pulled back, he whispered carefully, his fingertips still lingering soft on his skin.

“Welcome home, Private,” he said, “I’ll make sure you want to stay,”

#drabbles #tumblr drabbles #larry fanfiction #larry fanfic #alex x louis #I mean it's not but it is lol #this is sloppy lol I'm sorry #but also I might clean it up and add some scenes maybe??#put on ao3 as a lil baby one shot??#who knows lol #Anonymous #ask

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