#but there is a messier version where they fuck in the bathroom

[dulcewrites]

Aemond is going to die.

Maybe not right now per se. But it still feels like he might. He knew this was going to happen, and he still feels a bit sick to his stomach.

A hand on his shoulder pulls him out of this thoughts.

“Are you ok?”

Aemond can tell even through the glasses of champagne that make his brother’s cheeks flush that Aegon is worried. It’s the same look everybody seems to give him lately. Like they expect him to crack. A downward spiral in the works.

“I’m fine,” tearing his eyes away from two certain people, he takes the flute in Aegon’s hand and down the rest of it. Aegon just wrinkles his nose in pitty. It was laughable; Aegon of all people looking at him in pitty. How the tables have turned.

His gaze goes back to where Jace and Myrah are. There was a petty part of him that wished Myrah suddenly turned into a bridge troll post break (not break up Aemond would reinterate to his family). But it would take changes on a cosmic level to have Myrah look anything but beautiful in Aemond’s eyes. Especially now, with the way the light is hitting her. With the way the colors on her dress look against her skin.

And yeah, he’s gonna fucking die.

If he doesn’t die, he will probably strangle someone.

On cue, Aegon pipes up again. “You look like you want to skin our nephew.”

Aemond just continues to look on.

“Look, in the grand scheme of things I don’t care what you do to the loser, but if you ruin Hel’s party in the process, she will kill you and I’ll watch. Maybe even help.”

Helaena had sat Aemond down gently, in the way only a big sister could. Her blue eyes soft and sympathetic.

I invited Myrah to my party. If it makes you uncomfortable then I can readjust, but I want all the people I care about there. And she’s one of them.

Aemond just nodded and smiled, then let out a boderline pathetic groan when he got in his car. Laying his face on the stirring wheel for a few minutes. It is Helaena’s birthday; he has no right to tell her who to invite, especially knowing Myrah and her were friends before they even dated. The garden party was also Myrah’s idea. The pastels, the bug motif decorations; all things they both had in common. But telling himself that still doesn’t help the pain of seeing her.

“I’m fine,” Aemond repeats, clearing his throat.

“It’s been two months. Maybe it is time to move on.”

Aemond head snaps towards his brother. “We are just on a break.”

Aegon nods slowly, clearly not convinced. “She said she needed space. I don’t think staring at her like psycho is helping.”

Aemond tries not to be an angry person. He knows it does him no good in the long run. But most of the people in his family, his feelings always burn hot after being contained for too long. Myrah isn’t here with him, and she’s laughing with someone who also isn’t him. By the time he has stood up and started to walk over, his mind is in a bit of a fugue state.

He heard Aegon call out for him, but his feet keep moving. It is not till he is standing near the cocktail table, looming really, that he doesn’t have a plan. And Aemond always prides himself on having a plan.

Jace is the first to acknowledge him, a tense smile on his face. While Myrah just looks up through her lashes. Neither of them pay Jace any attention anymore when he asks how Aemond is. All Aemond can do is hum, completely focused on Myrah.

“Ok,” Jace says slowly looking from Myrah to Aemond then back to Myrah. “I’ll talk with you later.”

He instantly takes Jace’s place near her.

“How, umm, how have you been,” his stomach dips when he finally makes proper eye contact with her. He sends a silent thank you Amal and Gerald

“I’ve been ok. Esme, mom, and I went a little girls’ holiday last week so that was nice.”

He knows that. Aemond had went as far as to download tiktok to see her. Tiktok. Aemond understands the appeal of it now; he just needed the right subject to watch.

“Are you doing alright,” she asks as if she already knows the answer. Did he look as awful as he feels?

“I miss you.”

As soon as he says it he cringes a bit. Myrah’s eyes soften in that way that makes Aemond wish the ground would open and swallow him whole. Myrah looks away briefly, staring out at the sprawling garden and field attached to the tea room, trying to collect her thoughts. For a moment, Aemond wishes he had an ounce of the artistic talent she had. He’d draw her a million times over if that made her happy.

“Aemond,” she finally looks back at him. The glitter of her eyeshadow catching the sunlight. “Don’t make this any harder.”

“I just wanted to see how you were.”

The tense look on her face melts a bit as she laughs. “Be fucking serious. You came over because Jace was over here.”

Aemond’s mind gets a bit fuzzy at the sound of Myrah’s laugh. It chimes and soars like bells. It makes him smile, really smile, for the first time in weeks.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Myrah shakes her head softly. “You just have to remember a time where you didn’t like me very much.”

She says it in a joking matter but the sadness in her eyes say something else. It makes Aemond wonder if that is how she has been coping, if at all. Aemond can’t bring himself to this that binary, not know. Not while he can still hold on to a sliver of hope this isn’t permanent.

“I never disliked you,” he mummers, coming closer. “Not really.”

“After I did the portrait, Helaena told me that you said it was ‘a shame someone so talented could be so abrasive’,” Myrah raises a brow.

“And Helaena told me you called me uptight.”

“Abrasive and uptight, what a pair we make.”

Pair.

“But you liked me anyway.”

Myrah smiles. “Yeah, I did.”

Her eyes match her makeup as they glitter and sparkle. Aemond looks down, and brushes his fingers against the back of Myrah’s hand.

“You know I’m willing to wait for however long you need.”

Myrah grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze. It’s warm and soft the way he remembers it to be. And it hurts she knows he will, that is the horribly scary part. That not only is her head fucked at the moment, but she’s stringing Aemond along in the process. She should tell him to go sow his oats; don’t wait for her to figure herself out. But the thought of Aemond with someone else makes Myrah irrationally weak in the knees.

It’s selfish. Something she tries so hard not to be.

“Your hair is longer,” she changes the subject, reaching up with the other hand to brush a stray hair away from his face. “You should keep growing it out. Suits you.”

Myrah’s hand rest gently on his face. He grabs her wrist and kisses the inside of it. When she doesn’t pull away, he thinks she will tell him how much longer it will be. That she misses him too.

But it never comes.

She pulls both hands away, and Aemond feels cold. Physically and metaphorically. She slips away to go help with Helaena’s cake.

The night after the argument that lead to the break, Aemond went to his mother is boderline hysterics. He had never felt younger than when she laid his head on her lap. Like how she used to after he had a bad day in middle school.

“I know you don’t want to hear this now and it is cliche as hell,” she whispered. “But if things are meant to be, you two will come back to each other.”

Through the many candles over the butterfly cake, and the bright sparklers that were passed out, he looks at Myrah. Even though he feels disgustingly hallow now, he knows they will find their way back to each other.

He is sure of it.

There is def a timeline where modern aemyrah take a break and Aemond is like ‘she’s gone’ by hall and oates levels of screaming, crying, throwing up about it 😭😭

[8lyme]

Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

The Perfect Life

Part Seven

Summary- 1.7k Dark Steve Rogers x Reader x Dark Bucky Barnes. You are a Doll, a Sweetheart, a Good Girl. Steve and Bucky finally achieved obtaining their perfect version of You. The woman that gives them days and nights of pleasure, comfort, and a stable home. You strive for giving them your very best, even if it means destroying yourself in the process.

Warnings- Dub Con, Reader struggling mentally, toxic relationship, Oral male receiving, marking reader with cum, spit swallowing breeding kink, etc. 18 + Only Blog. Read at your own risk.

A/N- There is only one more chapter after this one everyone! Please be kind and like, comment, and reblog. I so appreciate it.

Part Six / Masterlist

You were a Doll. 

You smiled at the mirror in the bathroom to reflect that hallowed nickname. A perfect perfect doll made just for them. They were sure to tell you everyday. 

You were a Sweetheart. 

You strived to be their perfect girl, and the consequences made your stomach clench and panic rise in your chest like a wasp, relentless in torturing you. No no no you were a Doll, a Sweetheart, a Good Girl. 

They told you just last night. 

Your fractured mind craved those words now, that meant the day was going to be okay. Today you woke plastered to Steve’s back where you clung to him, he loved feeling you all over him. When you woke, you were so automatic. Wake him up in a way that will make him happy. 

You dragged the blankets down till his limp cock rested against his thigh. Still intimidating, you rubbed him with kisses down his chest. It didn’t take long for the man’s body to react. Your tongue worked him, your mouth molded around his semi-hard on till he woke enough to grasp your hair, work your mouth up and down till you were taking him in your throat like he liked. You were sure to moan lewdly and glance up at him with all the love and submission you could muster. 

“Good Girl Sweetheart.” He groaned while spitting in your face, making you messier then you already were with bits of drool already smeared on you. He yanked you off, your hands replacing your mouth, and continued to jerk him. 

“Spit in my mouth Steve.” You begged while you leaned towards him, sticking your tongue out for him. 

“My fucking filthy slut.” He smirked as he pushed you off him to your back and kneeled over you, jerking his cock himself. Your mouth was still open, waiting and he spat once more, making you hum as you swallowed it. It was so hot watching you like this, your body arching upwards in a roll like you needed him, offering your body and he jerked his cock faster, feeling his balls tighten suddenly as thick ropes of cum shot over your breasts and up to your face. “Fuck, FUCK.” He shouted before it was over, covering you in his spend. His cock went limp and you pouted a bit while running your fingers through his seed all over you and stuck them in your mouth. “What’s the pout for Sweetheart?” 

“You didn’t come in my mouth.” 

“I would rather come in this pussy.” His hand smacked at the tender spot between your thighs, making you squeal a bit, trying to snap your legs closed, but he fell between them, rubbing himself into you. “Later Sweetheart, you know I’m not finished with you yet.” 

Now you stood in his bathroom, freshly showered, applying your makeup while telling yourself how you were a Good Girl, A Doll, A Sweetheart, your daily prep talk. Steve was just stepping out, his hand wrapped around his raging cock once more, dripping wet as he approached you. 

You resumed the position, hands planted on the bathroom counter and ass out, looking at him in the mirror. His proud smile made you arch to your toes, arching your back all that much more. 

“Fuck you are so perfect, Sweetheart.” A hand smoothed over your ass while he pushed himself into you, jarring you into the countertop. “Said I wasn’t finished with you yet.” 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

You were a Doll, perfect in every way. A Sweetheart, everything about you was welcoming. You were a Good Girl, able to make your men happy. You chanted these words over and over while Bucky held you in his lap, reading out loud over your shoulder with the occasional kiss to the side of your neck and whispered praises to your temple. Bucky like this was so affectionate and gentle. You appreciated this side of him. You were sure to try really hard to keep him happy because you didn’t want him to have to teach you a lesson. You tensed at the thought, the nightmare making you relive those moments when he was the enforcer, taking you to the barn, to the basement, to his bed. 

Steve was wild in his rage, quick to dole out his punishment till he was sated. Bucky was cold and calculated. He took his time with you when he felt you needed to be reprimanded. 

“Doll, relax Baby.” Bucky soothed in your ear, dragging you out of your thoughts with panic. Did you stop paying attention, no no, you couldn’t have let your mind wander. His arm was heavy around your waist to keep you against him. 

“Bucky, Buck I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You panicked, your words rushed. You were sure he was going to be disappointed in you. That first trip to the basement wasn’t your last and the darkness scared you so badly now because you didn’t know where they were going to strike next when you had to be down there. 

“Sssh ssh, Doll.” He crooned in your hair, rubbing at your belly where his hand rested. “You were safe in my arms. Relaxing is normal.” You made yourself relax back into his chest, letting your head tip back. 

Bucky could cause great pain, but great pleasure as well. Which you knew he was heading towards, wanting you to feel good with him. You were his Doll, you knew when to go limp in his hold and let him mold you into what he wanted. “Make me feel good James.” You whispered, knowing he would want to hear that. His breathing hitched in your ear as his lips skimmed the crook of your neck. The book was set aside so he could focus on you. 

“Mmhh what do you want Doll?” 

That was once a loaded question, back then you would have begged for freedom. Now, you wanted to make them happy, feel good, and feel loved by them. “You James.” You arched your hips for his hand that was stroking the inside of your thigh and over the cloth covering your pussy. 

“You got me Doll.” He muttered as he had you arch up again, shifting the two of you till you were perched on his knees for a moment. You could hear the zip of his pants and then he wrapped an arm around your middle to ease you back. “Get on Doll.” 

You reached between your legs to wrap your fingers around him, feeling him throb heavily in your touch. He was hard, always hard for you. 

When you eased his cock against you and slowly let yourself lower on him with a muffled moan, stretching you open for him, he cursed with restraint while you bounced yourself to fit him further. “Fuck Doll, I gotta.” He grasped your hips and pushed you fully onto him, making you cry out while he hugged you, kissing your neck and groaning between his praises. “Feel so fucking good Doll, made for me, you always have been. Easy now, don’t move till you're ready.” 

You tilted your head over your shoulder and gave a slight bounce, breaking out in a proud grin at how his face went slack and his hold tightened. You were more then ready for him, as he said, you were made for them. 

“Ah Doll, just like that.” You started bouncing faster, your pussy flexing and squeezing around him, your arousal starting to make a mess of you both. Now and then you would push on him, grinding yourself into him while digging your nails into the arm of the chair. 

“You feel so good James, I need to feel so full of you, all the way in my-” 

“I know Doll.” He gritted out as he grabbed your hip with one hand and moved you up and down. His other shot between your thighs, toying with your clit till you were clenching on him, dangerously close to making him come. “You just give me what I want and I will fill you so full your cute little pussy can't handle it all.” 

“Please, please.” You begged him, bouncing faster, both of you chasing that ending. You came first, his fingers expertly teasing you till the sensation made you need more and want to push away, you sank into his hold, letting him move you how he wanted, and when he bit your shoulder while filling you, you let yourself find comfort in his arms that he now wrapped around you, holding you against him while you both panted, letting racing hearts start to settle down. 

“I love you Doll.” He muttered and you twisted your face into his neck, hiding against him. 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

All alone in your bedroom once again, the evening starting to stretch into nighttime, the dark making your heart race as the shadows deepened in your bathroom. The mirror showed you a woman’s tired face, no longer really yours. It was all for them, that smile that was soft on your mouth, your eyes hopeful looking back at you. You were their Doll, their Sweetheart, their Good Girl. 

But in here it was just you and slowly all those features started to fade away, that smile fell away to show tired lines etched around the corners of your mouth and your hopeful eyes went dead in the mirror, the shadows under them showing more now that you weren’t being their happy perfect woman. 

Here the fear crept, the anger and pain, the rage at what was happening to you. You only allowed yourself to see this in fleeting moments of complete privacy. Here you were, broken and battered but trying to survive in your hell. 

A creek of your bedroom door and heavy footsteps made the mask slip back on, peering happily in the mirror as the bathroom door opened to see Steve poke his head in. “You about ready Sweetheart?” 

“Yes, Steve.” You said softly, still smiling at him. 

“Come to my bedroom when you finish, Bucky is joining us tonight.” He informed you and you gave a curt nod. 

“As soon as I brush my teeth, I will be there.” You assured him, blowing him a kiss into the mirror. You watched as a pleased soft smile came from him, your assurance comforting him that his perfect Sweetheart was joining him. 

As soon as he left, your eyes glanced back at yourself, watching as a quiver raced through you and your expression threatened to break, the walls closing you in to your cage worst than before. 

But then you calmed yourself, going back to being Bucky’s Doll, Steve’s Sweetheart, and the Perfect Good Girl.

[connoraidann]

The Day The Internet Died | Part II

What would happen if the internet suddenly vanished?

To read along with the audiovisual version, click here: youtube.com/@ConnorAidan To listen to the audio-only version, click here: Stories on Spotify

Friday

HONK!

Sonya woke to the sound of a car horn outside. She was sprawled out on the couch—still in yesterday’s scrubs. What time is it? She fumbled around the couch cushions looking for her phone before finding it face down on the floor. Just after 10. Damn, how long did I sleep for?

Sonya heard Alex’s door creak open and instantly shut her eyes. She knew it was childish, but she did not want to answer for what she had said last night just yet. If only she could ink out just a few more minutes of bliss.

She heard Alex slowly creep around the couch, and then ever so quietly open and close the front door. Moments later, she heard a car backing out of the driveway. Quickly, Sonya rushed to the window just as the car was driving away. That’s Katie’s car isn’t it? Sonya looked at her phone again. Little late to be going to school?

Sonya rubbed her eyes and slumped back into the couch. Lying down flat, she stared up at the ceiling, replaying in her head the events that had happened last night.

I went too far last night. I shouldn’t have… I know how much Alex has been going through. I don’t need to pile even more onto it. Where did she go? With Katie?... She’s not running away is she?

With renewed focus, Sonya shifted back to her feet. Okay Sonya. Where would Alex go? She walked over towards Alex’s room and carefully opened the door, as if she was afraid Alex might still be there. Looking around, it seemed mostly like Alex’s normal room. Sure, recently it was messier than it had been before Sonya left for college, but nothing was obviously awry.

On the desk by the computer was a ton of loose papers. Sifting through, she found mostly old school papers. But one was different. Turning it over, she was confronted with the grimace of a large silhouetted face. What the hell is this? Though the face took up most of the page, there were a few sentences appended under it.

—

TAKE BACK WHAT IS YOURS

We the people will not stand for this injustice and restriction of basic human rights. Do not believe the Telecom lies. Do not believe the government lies. Stand with us and demand answers.

On Friday, August 7th starting at 12PM we will gather in front of the Telecom building and demand answers.

—

“What the…” Sonya pulled out her phone to check the date. Shit! That’s today! Sonya sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding the flier. Surely not. Surely Alex wouldn’t fall for something like this. This is obviously some conspiracy theory bullshit. Telecom isn’t working with the government to suppress information. They’re just…

Sonya wracked her brain, trying to recall what was the cause of the outage. What did it say in the paper? She walked back into the living room and grabbed the newspaper she had taken home from the hospital yesterday. Okay. Okay… State of… ‘State of Emergency declared’... ‘outage continues’... ‘Amidst mounting government pressure, Telecom continues not to provide an official statement as to what caused the outage.’

With a frown, Sonya flung the newspaper and flier down onto the coffee table and sat back on the couch, the gears in her brain continuing to turn. Okay. So Telecom is silent. Why? Who fucking knows. There must be something they’re trying to cover their asses for. And this…“group”... is obviously trying to take advantage of the whole situation to stir up unrest. But why… and where does Alex fit into all this?

Sonya moved to the bathroom to wash off the previous day's accumulated grime in preparation for what she was about to do. The gears continued to turn. Okay Sonya, but that’s not the only place she could have gone. Honestly, she could have gone anywhere. And it’s a State of Emergency… What does that even mean? Is her school canceled?

Sonya continued to clean up, hopping in and out of the shower as fast as she could. Yes, yes. There’s gotta be somewhere else. She wouldn’t go to this protest thing. She knows better. Katie knows better. But no matter what logical loopholes she tried to jump through, Sonya couldn’t shake the feeling that they did go to the protest. After all, she bet that practically the entire town would show up. Just judging from how it had been at the hospital the past week, she could only imagine how badly others had been affected from the outage. Practically everything ran on the internet these days.

Standing in the doorway, Sonya slapped her cheeks to get the blood flowing. Okay Sonya. You’re going to go to this stupid protest to make sure that your stupid sister isn’t there doing something stupid. Because like it or not, it’s your responsibility to make sure she doesn’t die.

1 Year Before the Outage

Sonya’s phone buzzed as she walked through campus on her way to her next class.

‘Hi Sonya. It’s Aunt Molly (your mom’s sister). Please give me a call when you have a moment. I’m afraid it’s urgent.’

Sonya frowned at her phone, but nevertheless continued her brisk pace. Walking beside her was Christopher, also a med student, trying desperately to keep up while also stuffing papers into his bag. “What’s that face for?” he said.

Sonya looked up from her phone. “Oh. My aunt who I haven’t heard from in years just texted me. Said it was urgent I call her back… I’m sure it’s fine though. I’ll just call her after we finish biochem.”

Christopher stopped abruptly, forcing Sonya to halt as well. “Sonya, if she said it was urgent, you should probably call her back now.”

“I’m sure it’s—”

“It will take two seconds! Just call her back now and see what she has to say.”

“I’m just gonna—,” Sonya started before Christopher gave her a stern look. “Okay! Fine.”

—

Sonya sat in the hospital waiting room, trying to remember how long it had been since she had last slept. One hour to pack. Twelve hour drive. Stopped twice. Sixteen hours since I’ve been in the hospital. Two hours since we’ve last spoken to the nurse. She rubbed her swollen eyes. She couldn’t tell if they were more red from tiredness or tears. But at this point, it didn’t matter.

Alex’s head rested in her lap—a makeshift pillow—as she lay across the hard hospital bench. Even in her sleep, she still seemed to be crying.

—

In the funeral parlor, Sonya sat at a small bench tucked away in the corner. The service and burial had wrapped up over an hour ago, and Aunt Molly had already shuttled Alex back home. Only a few stragglers remained.

Christopher approached her. His flight had landed only a few hours before the service, so they hadn’t had much opportunity to talk. Sonya rose, and they embraced. “Sonya…” he started before trailing off. “Sonya, I’m so so sorry.” Sonya began to start sniffling again, which surprised her because she didn’t think she had any tears left. She buried her face in his shoulder as he continued to console her.

“It’s okay. It’s…” He stroked the back of her head as she began to cry. “It’s okay… Here, let’s sit down for a minute. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Sometime later, after Sonya had gotten out what few tears she had left, they continued to sit on the bench, her head leaning on his shoulder for support.

Christopher was the first to speak. “Do you… do you know what… um… what is going to happen with Alex? She’s still in school right?” 

Sonya, still leaning on his shoulder, spoke, “She’s going to be staying at our aunt’s for the next few days. After that… I think I’m going to withdraw from this semester to come back here to stay with her.”

“Sonya…”

“She needs someone right now. With both of them gone… She still has a few years of school left. She can’t just live by herself, even if she wants to. I’m sure our aunt could take care of her… But we hardly know her. She needs me.”

Christopher grabbed her hand and gently squeezed it. “But who is going to take care of you, Sonya? Maybe I should take off some time as well, come down here to be—”

Sonya cut him off. “No Chris. No… you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to get behind. I know how hard a year you have coming up.”

“But Sonya, I need to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

Sonya sat up straight. “I’ll be fine. I might be able to get an internship or something at the hospital. Or I’ll just see if I can take classes online. Or I’ll just do… something.” Chris didn’t seem very reassured. “I’ll be fine Chris, I promise. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

Christopher was quiet for a few moments, before finally speaking. “Okay. I’ll come back down as soon as I can. I’m sure we can figure something out together. Hell, knowing you, you’ll probably figure out a solution for this whole thing before I even get back!”

Sonya shifted her gaze towards the front of the room, where only an hour ago the two caskets had laid.

“Yea,” she said.

Friday

HONK! HONK!

“Move buddy! I got somewhere to be!” Sonya honked her horn in agitation at the mass of soon-to-be protestors clogging the road, making it impossible to go any further. 

“Just my luck…” Sonya mumbled as she attempted to pull off to find a place to park. Opening the car door, Sonya stood on her tiptoes to scan the crowd. Jesus, with this many people here it’ll be impossible to find her. Begrudgingly, Sonya mixed into the crowd and made her way towards the Telecom building. Every once and a while, she stood on her tiptoes to see if she could make out anyone in the crowd, but without success.

The crowd grew denser and denser the closer she got towards the final destination. Already, she could sense the agitation in the crowd. People were starting to shove to get by one another, and several times she was shouldered by a passerby. This is stupid. This is so stupid. Why am I here? What if she isn’t even here? What if I’m the one who gets swallowed by the crowd?

With great effort, Sonya extended herself again to scan the crowd, looking for something, anything, that could help. She saw now that she was almost at the Telecom building, and could make out a dozen or so policemen planted in front of it. Drawing her attention back to the crowd, she scanned again, looking back and forth and back and forth. Finally, her efforts paid off.

Is that? “Katie!” she yelled! “Katie!” As she screamed Katie turned to talk to the person next to her, confirming to Sonya that it was in fact her, but the crowd was already so loud that she didn’t seem to hear. Beside her, she saw what appeared to be the back of Alex’s head. Fucking hell. They are here.

Sonya attempted to move closer towards them. “Katie! Alex! Excuse me! Sorry! Excuse me! Hey, I need to get by you please!” She heard someone from the front of the crowd shout something at the cops, which in turn riled up everyone else. After that, the pushing and shoving seemed to increase tenfold, as everyone in the crowd tried to compact towards the front.

CRASH!

Sonya heard what sounded like glass breaking, followed shortly after by another. The crowd erupted even more in response. One of the policemen raised a megaphone. “ATTENTION! THIS HAS BECOME AN UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY! DISPERSE NOW, OR YOU WILL BE FORCED TO DISPERSE!”

Shit. What did I get myself into? At this point, the crowd was so compacted that it was almost impossible for Sonya to make any progress. Sonya tried to extend herself again to scan the crowd, but was swiftly knocked over by a person rushing past her. Barreled over, Sonya clutched her injured side. What the hell is going on?! How am I going to get to them? With great effort, she tried once again to scan the crowd. This time, she saw that Katie was only a few yards in front of her.

At the top of her lungs, Sonya yelled, “KATIE!” Finally, Katie turned around and made eye contact with her. Tears were streaming down her face. After taking a moment to realize who it was, Katie yelled something back in response, but Sonya couldn’t hear her over the crowd. Sonya looked around her and noticed Alex wasn’t there. “Katie!” The crowd jostled Sonya back and forth. “Katie! Where’s Alex! Katie—”

BOOM!

From off to the side, a police car erupted into flames.

9 Months Before the Outage

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey Alex, do you have a minute?” Sonya stood outside Alex’s door, still in her work clothes from her new job at the hospital. “Alexxxx…”

From behind the door, she heard a grumble. “What do you want?”

Sonya frowned at the closed door before recomposing herself. “I just want to see my beautiful sister’s face and tell her all about how much my new job sucks!” Sonya heard a grumble in response, but couldn’t decipher it. “Alex…” With a deep breath, Sonya put on as sincere a smile as she could manage and slowly twisted the doorknob. “Okay, I’m coming in…”

Sonya entered the room and found Alex huddled at her desk in front of her computer, clicking and scrolling through a seemingly never-ending amount of content. Without even glancing up, Alex repeated, “What do you want, Sonya?” The name added a subtle hiss to the end of her remark.

Sonya took a chance to survey the room. With her new work schedule, it had been a while since she had had an opportunity to come in. It was even messier than when she had last seen it. Clothes littered the ground. Empty bottles and plates cluttered the night stand. A pile of what she assumed was undone schoolwork stacked up next to her desk.

Sonya walked over to grab a few plates. “You know you’ve been spending an awful lot of time in here lately. Why don’t you come outside, breathe some fresh air. At least eat dinner with me in the living room.”

Alex, still at the computer, responded again without turning around. “I’m fine in here.”

“What if I call Katie to come over? She’s been calling me nonstop to try to get a hold of you. She really misses you.”

“I’m fine. I just want to be alone right now.”

“Alex…”

Finally, Alex managed to turn around. Her face was as somber as her tone. “Can you just leave me alone please?”

—

“Alex! Dinner is ready!” Sonya yelled from inside the kitchen. Alex was, as usual, in her room with the door firmly shut.

Sonya put the plates on the table before walking to the door. Leaning in so that her voice could be clearly heard through the door, she continued, “Alex, I’ve got food ready. Can you come out and eat?”

From behind the door, Sonya heard the distinct click click clicking of a computer mouse, followed shortly by the now infamous grumble. “I’ll eat later.”

“Please Alex… Can you please come out and eat with me? I just want to talk. If you don’t want to talk, maybe we can just watch a movie? Or do whatever you like.”

Sonya was answered with yet another grumble. “I just want to stay in my room for now.”

Alex’s one note melancholy had been starting to get on Sonya’s nerves. She gripped the doorknob. “Listen Alex. You can’t stay holed up in there forever. You’ve got to come out eventually. I know you’re sad. But I’m sad too! So can we please just talk? I miss you! Katie misses you! Everyone misses you!”

This time, Sonya was answered only with silence. 

Seconds passed by like hours. Finally, Sonya spoke up again. “Alex, I’m coming in…”

Finally, Alex responded. “No! Please just leave me alone!” Sonya heard the trembling in her voice, the quiet call for help, and it in turn made Sonya also tear up.

Sonya attempted to turn the doorknob, only to find it locked.

—

“Did you turn off the internet?”

Sonya looked up from the couch to see Alex standing in her bedroom doorway, still holding the knob.

Sonya shifted to better face her sister, pretended to check her phone, and lied, “No. I didn’t. Looks like it must be down in the whole house.”

Alex stared at Sonya for a full minute. Slowly, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re a bad liar.”

Sonya perked up from her seated position, accosted by the accusation. “I didn’t lie! It must just be out!”

Alex continued to glare. “I know you turned it off to try to get me to come out of my room.” She spread out her arms in mockery. “Well, are you happy?”

“Alex, you’re crazy. I wouldn’t do something like that. But I am happy to see you. Do you want to come sit on the couch with me?”

Alex’s voice rose. “See, I knew you did it! You didn’t even attempt to check!”

At the sound of Alex yelling, Sonya closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Alex, please. You haven’t been out of your room in months. I’m just worried about you.”

“I don’t need you to worry about me! I can take care of myself!”

“Alex…”

“Just because Mom and Dad died doesn’t give you the right to baby me!” Alex was now yelling at the top of her lungs.

Sonya rose to confront Alex. “Newsflash Alex, it does! I’m your guardian now! That means it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay!”

“WELL, YOU’RE DOING A SHIT JOB AT IT!” screamed Alex, before slamming her door shut.

Friday

The sound of the explosion vibrated Sonya to her core. Heat rapidly radiated off the police car inferno and smoke filled the air, choking out what little oxygen was available. Sonya started to frantically look around. Shit! Shit shit shit shit!

“Alex!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Alex!”

But Sonya heard no response. Frantically, she began pushing through the crowd in front of her, trying to make it to where she had last seen Katie. But the density of the crowd coupled with the smoke choking out the air made it almost impossible to tell which was which. Sonya pushed and pushed, trying to get through. Finally, she spotted her.

“Katie!” Sonya rushed to Katie and wrapped her arms around her. Katie crumpled into her arms. “Katie! Katie what happened? Why are you here? Where is Alex?”

Katie tried to respond but the words were garbled in between the sobs. “I’m…. I’m trying… Alex… lost her… please…” Sonya put both her arms on Katie’s shoulders and tried to put on as soothing a voice as she could manage. “Katie… it’s going to be okay. I’m here now. Just stay with me. We’re going to find Alex, and we’re going to get out of here. Okay?”

Katie sniffled and gave the slightest of nods. Sonya grabbed her hand. The smoke continued to billow just above them, smearing the sky in dark gray. “Alright Katie. I need you to be with me for a minute. When were you last with Alex?”

“I… We were together right about here. But then someone bumped… I lost her hand… I tried to look for her… I yelled for her but she didn’t yell back… So I started making my way back—”

“So your original spot was just a bit ahead of where we are now? Towards the front of the crowd?”

“Maybe,” sniffled a defeated Katie in response.

“Okay.” Sonya leaned into Katie to be heard clearly over the roaring crowd. “Okay Katie. We’re going to get Alex. Whatever you do, do not let go of my hand. Okay? Squeeze tight and don’t let go.” Katie nodded in assurance.

Once again, Sonya began forcing her way through the crowd, dragging Katie behind her. But the smoke and density of the crowd made it almost impossible to see anything. Shit. It’s getting hard to breathe. I need to find Alex and get us the hell out of here. Sonya continued to push, and used what little breath she had left to yell, “Alex!”

No response. Pushing forward.

“Alex!”

Crowd compacting. Smoke choking.

“Alex!”

Almost. Please.

“Alex!”

With a final push, she made it through another few members of the crowd, and finally, finally spotted her. Huddled over, shielding her ears from the noise, was Alex.

3 Months Before the Outage

Sonya sat in Dr. Harper’s office, still in her work scrubs. It was the day after Alex’s routine therapy appointment, and Dr. Harper had phoned Sonya to come in for a discussion.

He began, “It has taken some time, but I believe I’ve finally gotten Alex to open up to me. Yesterday was quite successful.”

Sonya shifted slightly in her seat. “That’s great.”

Dr. Harper stared at Sonya, but it was a gentle stare. A stare of understanding.

“I know the sudden death of your parents has taken a heavy toll on the both of you. And at such a pivotal stage in Alex’s development,” he gently brought together his hands, “it has caused her to retreat into herself.”

“Yes,” Sonya responded. “She spends almost all her time in her room. I can hardly ever get her to come out. At first, I thought it was best to give her some space. We all grieve our own ways. But it’s been months, and I’m worried about her. She won’t talk to me about anything. We used to be so close…”

Dr. Harper gave a gentle nod and took some time before he next spoke. “She is worried about you too.”

“Really?” Sonya was genuinely shocked.

“Yes,” Dr. Harper continued. “She blames herself for you having to abandon med school to come take care of her.”

Sonya didn’t know what she expected Dr. Harper to say, but it definitely wasn’t this. “But… but it’s not her fault. And I didn’t abandon med school. I just took some time off. It’s not… that… big of a deal…” Sonya mumbled the last bit.

“Yes, but for Alex it has been another major stressor in her life. She blames herself, and as a result struggles to be able to come to you for help.”

“But,” Sonya leaned forward as if to say more, but ultimately lowered her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know what to do…”

Dr. Harper closed his eyes and gave a series of gentle nods. “And because Alex cannot find solace in you, she has been looking for it online. Spending more and more time online, searching for understanding.”

Sonya continued to make eye contact with the floor tiles. “Yes, she spends a lot of time on her computer…”

“Sonya,” Dr. Harper said in a calm but affirming tone, forcing Sonya to meet his gaze. “I know you are trying your best. I know all of this takes as much a toll on you as it does her.” He gently closed and opened his eyes. “It will just take time. When she is ready, she will come to you.”

Friday

“Alex!” Sonya rushed up to Alex, tugging Katie along with her. Alex was huddled over, hands over both ears, repeatedly muttering something inaudible under her breath. Around her, the crowd had turned into pure chaos. People were now shoving in the opposite direction, trying to escape the fire.

Sonya momentarily let go of Katie’s hand and placed both her hands on Alex’s shoulders. “Alex! Alex! It’s me! It’s Sonya!”

Alex, still cupping her ears, looked up at Sonya. Her eyes looked as if she was in a trance.

Sonya fully wrapped her arms around her. “Alex! It’s going to be okay! I’m here! I’ve got you! I’ve always got you. I’m never going away!”

Alex looked up at her, finally realizing who it was. “Sonya!” she cried, latching onto her sister and sobbing into her arms.

“I’ve got you Alex.” Sonya squeezed her tight. Tighter than she had ever before.

After a moment, Alex came up for air and began frantically looking left and right. “Katie?!”

Sonya released Alex from her embrace but kept her arms on her. “Alex! Katie is right here with me! She’s right here!”

Alex shifted her attention to Katie, and more tears welled up in both of their eyes. Katie ran over to embrace Alex. “Alex! I’m alright! We’ve found you! We’re not going anywhere!”

Sonya watched the embrace unfold before gently placing her hands on both of their shoulders and leaning in for a huddle. The smoke stung all of their eyes. “Alright. We need to get out of here now! Alex, I want you to hold my hand and hold Katie’s hand. We’re going to form a line and get out of here! Do you understand? Don’t let go!” The minors both nodded their heads in agreement.

The three linked up and began making their way towards the rear of the crowd. Thankfully, due to the fire the rest of the crowd was starting to flee that direction as well, aiding in their escape. With one arm acting as a shield and the other firmly holding onto Alex behind her, who was in turn was firmly holding onto Katie behind her, the three trudged through the crowd.

As she was pushing, Sonya started to aggressively cough. Shit. There’s too much smoke. It’s getting hard to breathe here. She looked back at the two girls momentarily. I need to get us out NOW. The three continued in a line, going as fast as they could, parting the crowd around them. Just a little more. We’ve got… *cough cough*… just a little more… *cough cough cough*…

Finally, Sonya saw a break in the crowd. Summoning all the energy she had left, she gave one final push and brought all three of them out of the crowd.

A New Day

Alex lay in bed rereading the message on her phone for the third time. It was Saturday morning, the day after the protest. Sometime in late hours of the night, the internet had come back on. Alex’s lungs still hurt, and her clothes discarded on the floor still reeked of smoke. Outside the door, Alex heard Sonya, who in typical Sonya fashion, hadn’t even made it to bed and was instead sprawled out on the couch, trying to soak up as much sleep as she could manage. The night before they had finally talked, their first real talk in ages.

Alex returned her attention to her phone to reread the message for a fourth time.

Dear Alex, your bestest friend in the whole world wanted to wish you the happiest birthday ever! I know things have been really tough for you lately. But I just wanted to let you know that you are loved so so so much! I love you, your sister loves you, everyone loves you! You’re impossible not to love! So never ever forget that there are always people there for you, no matter what happens. Don’t! Forget! Anyways, there better be cake tonight because we’re celebrating in style! Crap, I think Mr Sanderson sees me typing this. See you soon! Love u!

“Love you too,” Alex said with a smile.

—

End of Part II.

Thank you for reading Stories. This story was written by me, Connor Aidan. To read rough drafts before they’re posted and actually influence how the story turns out, head to patreon.com/connoraidan

[eldritchsurveys]

834.

How have you been feeling lately? Have you been doing ok? >> Eh. As long as nothing unpredictable happens, I’m mostly fine... but I’ve also had at least two meltdowns in the past week, so “mostly fine” is obviously a cover-up of some sort. I don’t really know what to do about it, so I am kind of just holding my breath through every day, hoping I don’t lose it over something trivial.

Are you currently in quarantine? >> No, the stay-at-home order has been lifted. Still not really going anywhere, though.

Do you wear a mask when you go to the store? >> We didn’t this past weekend, which I don’t feel great about, but I ordered a bandana yesterday so I’ll hopefully have it before this coming weekend.

Does your state require people to wear masks in stores? >> Well, they say they require it, but we were definitely not the only people in stores without masks on. So I don’t know what the deal is with that. I think maybe stores are weighing how much it’s worth having to deal with irate customers who can’t stand being turned away for not complying with the mask rule (Michigan is, after all, the state where armed protesters stormed the capitol building to harass the governor for extending the stay-at-home order...). Regardless, now that I will actually have a face covering next time, I’m going to use it.

Do you know anyone who's had the coronavirus? >> No.

What was the last sweet treat you ate? >> I ate part of a lemon coconut cookie.

Was it a nice day out today? >> It’s pretty nice, yeah.

Is the weather nice where you live usually? >> Usually? I wouldn’t say that. Winter lingers around here for a long time, and winter does not usually bring pleasant weather (in my opinion). Also, we get a lot of wacky lake-effect weather.

What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A bandana. It has a Baphomet on it, heh.

Are you expecting a package right now? >> Well, yeah, the bandana. Should be here Thursday or Friday (it’d better be, considering I paid extra for quicker shipping).

Have you ever ordered anything from Wish? If so, what did you buy, and did you feel it was worth it? >> I haven’t, but Sparrow’s ordered stuff from them. I think she likes everything she’s gotten (although she hasn’t gotten everything she’s ordered, which is annoying).

Are you a youtuber? If so, are you consistent with uploads? and how many subscribers do you have? >> I am not, nor would I ever be, a youtuber.

What is one thing you hate about summer? >> Heat waves. I like warmth, but too hot is too hot.

Did you go outside today? >> Not yet.

What is the name of your youtube channel, if you have one? >> ---

What was the name of the last store or restaurant that overcharged you? >> I can’t recall being overcharged anywhere.

Is your room more often messy or clean? >> On the cleaner side than the messier side.

Who is someone you miss? >> ---

What is something you miss? >> ---

Do you feel like your emotions are often haywire? >> I feel like that pretty frequently, yeah. I’m either having no emotions or having a veritable perfect storm of them, and I’d really like to find a fucking balance at some point.

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis from a doctor? >> I’ve mostly received misdiagnoses from doctors.

Have you ever been "diagnosed" with a mental illness from an online friend? who is not a doctor? If yes, isn't that frustrating? >> Nah, I’ve not had that experience.

Do you have any friends that you can trust and tell everything to? >> ---

What was the name of your favorite roommate you've had? >> ---

Do you have a favorite book that you've read multiple times? >> Yeah, there are a few books I’ve read multiple times.

What's one book or book series that you've read multiple times? >> I’ve read Dreamcatcher by Stephen King at least twice.

Have you ever had an embarrassing bathroom accident? >> Yeah.

What was the name of the funniest kid you've ever babysat? >> ---

Do you enjoy babysitting? >> Never done it.

Do you have any big regrets? >> No.

Are there things about your past that bother you? >> I mean... I’m post-traumatic, lmao.

What was the last thing you saw or read on social media that made you angry? >> That doesn’t really happen to me.

Do you often post about controversial topics on facebook? >> I don’t post on facebook at all.

Do you think it's a good idea to post about serious topics on social media? or do you think that it's better to discuss serious topics in person? >> I think that a lot of misunderstanding happens on social media that could possibly be avoided or at least worked through with more efficiency in person. I do say possibly, because like, who knows, really. But there are many discussions I wouldn’t bother getting into on social media (especially where other people can see it and jump in with their two cents), that I might be more willing to discuss one-on-one with a person in a controlled environment. Which is why I hate that people don’t use IM/DM functions more often for working through sensitive topics (like “I have a problem with something you said in [x] post and I would like to work it out with you” or whatever), instead of turning it into a public fucking debate.

What was your favorite book you had to read for school? >> Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Have you ever failed a class and had to repeat it? >> No, I got no credit for a class and had to repeat it.

What class in school did you hate the most? >> All of them lmao

Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? >> Fuck no.

What's one childhood dream that has stuck with you, and one that has not? >> ---

Would you want to re-live your childhood over again if you could? >> FUCK NO.

Which do you like more: being an adult or being a kid? >> I vastly prefer being an adult where I have at least some semblance of agency and control over my own life, instead of being subject to the whims of people who don’t actually care about what I want or need or feel but are mostly thinking about what they want out of me.

At what age were you when you started to feel like you were mature enough to offer others advice? >> I don’t recall having this thought, like, ever. I offer advice when someone’s asked for it and I feel like I have some to offer. I don’t give a fuck what my age is.

Did your parents smoke or drink when you were growing up? >> No.

Do you enjoy bonfires? >> Yes.

Have you ever stepped on a sparkler? >> No.

What, do you know of, are you allergic to? >> Nothing.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? >> Yep, front and back.

What is your favorite version of the Bible to read, if applicable? >> I prefer the NIV for just regular reading, but ngl, the KJV has some turns of phrase that can be really poetic-sounding in certain verses.

Do you follow trends? or are you a trendsetter? >> Literally neither. I just do what I want.

Has anyone ever described you as a trendsetter? >> No.

Do you know anyone who used to be loving, but then turned cold? List three people you've known whom this has happened to. >> I don’t know anyone like that, which is good, because that is definitely red-flag behaviour.

What SAT subjects, if any, did you get a perfect score in? >> ---

What were your best subjects in school? and what was your favorite subject in school? >> ---

Have you ever been abused by a parent or legal guardian? >> Yes.

Do you have a lot of wounds from your past? >> Nope. Not a single one.

Has anyone ever called you a jerk? >> Probably.

Are you a jerk? >> Probably.

What color were your bedroom walls in high school? >> I assume they were the Nothing(tm) colour that is standard in apartment complexes.

Is there a girl or guy you wish you hadn't let slip away? >> No.

Is there an old friend that you miss and would like to reconnect with? >> No.

Who has hurt you the most? >> Sigh.

Have you been bullied? >> Yes.

Which talent show, if any, would you most like to audition for? and have you auditioned for one? >> I would rather die.

Do you know anyone who's auditioned for American Idol? >> No, but I know someone who auditioned for X Factor, which is largely the same concept.

Is there someone you think should audition that hasn't yet? >> No. I don’t think anyone should audition for those stupid ass shows.

What time of day do you usually feel your best? >> There is no time of day when that’s likely to happen. It depends more on my actual mental state than what time of day it is.

What's one way in which you've changed within the last ten years? >> Oh, you know, stuff.

Do you feel like time goes by fast, or slow? >> To me, it just... passes?

Who do you know who has died of cancer? >> No one.

Has there been cancer in your family? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital, and if so, what for? >> Yeah. For being suicidal, or for being self-injurious, or because people just plain thought it’d be a fun thing to do to me, I don’t fucking know.

Have you ever been a victim of police misconduct? >> No.

Have you ever been so angry you wanted to sue someone? >> That... would be such a strange response to being angry at someone. For me, anyway. I don’t know, maybe it makes sense to other people. I stick to Old Reliable -- wanting to beat them to a pulp or something.

Have you ever been a victim of racism? >> I mean, probably.

Have you ever deleted a friend on facebook for making racist comments? >> No. Luckily, that’s never happened to me.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips.

What was the theme of your senior prom? >> Damned if I remember, that was like 15 years ago.

Did you go to prom? >> Yeah.

Have ever been engaged or married? >> Yeah.

Are you an aunt or uncle? >> Technically.

Do you live to glorify God and to do His will? >> No.

Are you happy with the way you are living your life day-to-day right now? >> I mean, there are worse ways to live. At least I get to decide for myself what I do with my day.

Do you feel like your life was better or worse six years ago? >> It was definitely worse. That’s not even something to question.

Have you ever made a huge, catastrophic mistake? >> I don’t think any of my mistakes qualify for such a dramatic adjective.

What's one need of yours that is currently not being met? >> ---

Do you feel like you are currently in a state of suffering? and that not all of your basic needs are being met? If so, how long have you been in a state of suffering? >> Not that kind of suffering, no -- I’ve been in that state, where most of my basic needs were not at all being met, and I’m very grateful to not have to live like that anymore. Unfortunately, living like that for extended periods of time tends to have lasting effects, which is [part of] what I’m dealing with right now.

Do you hate social injustice? >> Nah, I love it. It’s just great. It’s the best thing ever--

Are you happy with the current social class you are in? >> I’m in that strange limbo where I, as an individual, am poverty-class, but since I am part of a household where the other person works a relatively okay job for a living, I get the benefits of being working-class. We’re still low-income by modern urban standards, though. Anyway, I’m fine with that for the most part, but that’s also because I’m used to being literally penniless so anything is better than that.

Do you feel like you are being given what you deserve right now? >> What the fuck do I deserve? What does that even mean? No one owes me anything.

Life isn't fair. True or false? >> I mean, true, I guess.

Do you hate that life is so unfair? >> I don’t really think about life that way. It’s people who have the option to be fair or unfair (and who have the option to perceive of things as fair or unfair); life is just... life.

Name a few people who seem to have everything handed to them. >> I don’t know anyone like that.

Who do you go to when you're upset? >> Can Calah.

Do you pray less or more than you did 5 years ago? >> I didn’t pray then and I don’t pray now, so... the same.

Do you pray a lot? >> No.

Do you frequently have back pain? >> No.

What's the worst side effect you've experienced for a medication? and what's the worst withdrawal effect you've experienced from a medicine? >> The last time I recall having side effects to medications is when I was being put on various psychiatric drugs as a teenager, but I don’t really remember any of the specifics except... being exhausted all the time (because I remember falling asleep in classes and being reprimanded for it like I’m doing it on fucking purpose).

Have you ever used an epi pen? >> No.

What's a name that you like but probably wouldn't use for one of your kids? >> ---

What's you name, and do you like it? >> Mordred. Of course I do.

Would you prefer to give your kids common names or unique names? >> ---

Do you feel like anybody values you in the way that you deserve? >> There’s that word deserve again. Anyway, yes, I’m sure someone values me well enough. Probably.

Who have you felt the most valued by? >> I guess Sparrow values me, or we wouldn’t be married. That’s how that works, right?

Have you ever been treated like you were inferior? >> Yes.

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? >> ---

Do you ever sleep outside? >> I’ve slept outside before, yes.

How many siblings do you have? >> ---

Are you the oldest, youngest, middle, or only child? >> I was raised as the only child in the household. I was the youngest of my father’s children.

How many kids do you want to have? >> Zero, ideally.

Do you want to get married? >> It’s already been done.

Best date you've been on? >> ---

Dream date? >> ---

Ever kissed someone on New Year's? >> Yeah.

Have you ever had an experience so good you felt like you were flying? >> Probably.

Have you ever been in so much pain you prayed that you would die? >> Yep.

What brings you the most joy? >> Uh... hmm. Good question. I’ll get back to you on that. Someday.

What is your passion; what is it that would bring you the most joy and fulfillment in life? >> I don’t think I have any passions.

Have you ever laid your dreams aside because someone else wanted you to? >> Well, fortunately for everyone else, I don’t really have any dreams.

Who supports you in everything you do? >> Sparrow is pretty supportive when I bother to do stuff.

Who always tries to stop you whenever you try to go after your dreams? >> ---

Do you believe in following your heart, in going after your dreams? >> I think that if someone has a dream, then sure, they should try to see it through. But I also think that sometimes it just ain’t worth it. It’s up to the person to make that determination, though, not me. Personally, I don’t really know what it’s like to have a dream, so it’s not like I can relate or anything.

Do you wish other people would want you to be happy? >> I don’t think people want me to suffer or anything. I think that in general, people aren’t really thinking about me at all.

Do you wish you had someone who loved and supported you? >> I do. I wish I had the capacity to feel loved and supported.

[foofygoldfish]

ultimate relationship ask meme

tagged by @theknifegame, @shellibisshe, @tomexraider, @amistrio, and @joeyhxdson!

doing this for faith and alice! (...i’m not crazy enough to do it for multiple ships lmao)

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? ....alice? it’s rare, but she’s more likely than faith. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? neither of them will. if they need space, they’ll usually just go to different rooms, or alice will go over to the auto shop for a little bit. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? ^^ Who trashes the house? ...the cats? neither of them really do. Do either of them get physical? never. How often do they argue/disagree? ....if you hadn’t figured it out yet, they don’t argue often lol Who is the first to apologise? alice.

Sex:

Who is on top? usually alice, but she doesn’t mind switching with faith 👀 Who is on the bottom? usually faith, but again, they don’t mind switching spots lol Who has the strangest desires?  ...alice Any kinks?  Who’s dominant in bed? ..........both. Is head ever in the equation? i mean... If so, who is better at performing it? ...faith.  Ever had sex in public? lmao yes Who moans the most? .... i... don’t know?  Who leaves the most marks? faith Who is the more experienced of the two? alice, by quite a bit. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? yes. Rough or soft? ...yes. How long do they usually last? uh, how much time do they have? Does it ever get boring? not really?  Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? a tie between at the base of joseph’s statue and one of the shrines i mean -- on one of the hiking trails, yep

Family:

Do they plan on having children/or have children? they didn’t really get a chance to talk about it before the bombs - in a no-cult/no-bomb au, they do plan on having kids someday, but they want to have time to themselves before they add kids into the mix. If so, how many children do they want/have? in both canons, they end up with six... three adopted and three with staci. 

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? they both do, but faith is the bigger cuddlebug. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? alice.  Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  ....in PG ways? faith. in R and over ways? alice. How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? hours. Who gives the most kisses? faith. she’s constantly giving alice little kisses. What is their favourite non-sexual activity? alice likes watching faith garden - they’ll take turns telling stories - alice about anything she can think of, faith about the plants. Where is their favourite place to cuddle? bed? or on the couch, with a giant blanket and a cheesy movie. How often do they get time to themselves? not nearly often enough - even with the no-bomb au, the cult and the fallout from takes up a lot of their (alice’s) time.

Sleeping:

Who snores? faith. If both do, who snores the loudest? faith Do they share a bed or sleep separately? together, always. even if the only option is a twin bed or a couch, they make do. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? if they aren’t curled up into the others side, they’re at least holding hands or touching in some way. What do they wear to bed? If they’re together? if they’re home/kids/guests aren’t around? nothing. if they have a possibility of being interrupted, alice will wear a cami and shorts, and faith will wear a soft nightgown (/a shirt that alice stole from someone who is bigger than her) Are either of them insomniacs? alice can be Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? in the no-bomb au, definitely. alice has a hard time falling asleep after everything that happened in the county. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? all the time Who wakes up with bed hair? yes. Who wakes up first? faith, always - even if alice is supposed to be up first, it’s faith. Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? faith. alice isn’t allowed to try any more. What is their favourite sleeping position? spooning. faith is the little spoon. Do they set an alarm each night? it depends on what is happening the next day/the continuity - no bomb/other aus? sometimes. main verse? nah, alarm clocks aren’t important. Can a television be found in their bedroom? yes! alice likes watching disaster movies at night. Who has nightmares? they both will, particularly after the events of the game. they both had somewhat regular ones to start with, though - alice’s aren’t terrible, just those vaguely unsettling ones, but faith had bad ones. Who has ridiculous dreams? alice has a lot of weird-ass dreams. a lot. they’re worse when she’s been around the bliss - not like, nightmare worse? just what the fuck just happened????? worse. Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? alice is like a cat - tiny, yet a bed hog. Who makes the bed? neither of them - alice never has the time in the morning, and faith forgets about it by the time alice is out of bed. What time is bed time? faith usually heads to bed around 11pm or midnight, and alice is happiest going to bed at like... 3-4am, but she’ll settle for midnight to 1am. before the game, when she’s on night shift, she’ll usually pass out as soon as she gets home from work, whenever that may be. Any routines/rituals before bed? not really? the usual brushing teeth and taking care of the cats, but that’s it. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? it doesn’t matter how much sleep she got, alice would like ten more minutes of it, please.

Work:

Who is the busiest? alice - the county keeps her pretty busy, even in a no-bomb au. Who rakes in the highest income? i mean, neither of them really are making much money, but alice. Are any of them unemployed? technically faith? she doesn’t take up any sort of formal role in the county after she leaves the cult for quite a while, other than gardening advisor in the “canon” story. she does help mary may and maizie when she can, but that’s not often. Who takes the most sick days? ...alice?  Who is more likely to turn up late to work? lol both whitehorses learned very quickly to tell alice that her shift starts 15-20 minutes earlier than it actually does Who sucks up to their boss? ...alice. What are their jobs? in most versions of their story, alice is the junior deputy/unofficial mayor, and runs the auto shop in town on the side. in no-cult or the alice isn’t the deputy au, she runs the shop, and in the not in hope county aus, she’s involved with local government or is a personal assistant. in “canon” faith is... well, faith, and then she does what she can, but mostly doesn’t work. in no cult/etc aus, she works at the jessop conservatory or whatever garden center is closest to them. Who stresses the most? faith. Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? alice honestly would rather be working for the mayor (if fall’s end still had one) or at the auto shop full time. at the start, faith does like her role in the project, but she’s very glad to be out when she does leave. Are they financially stable? by hope county standards? yeah

Home:

Who does the washing? they both will, but usually alice Who takes out the trash? their rule is whoever notices it first deals with it Who does the ironing? ...neither of them really iron anything? Who does the cooking? faith. Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? a l i c e. Who is messier? faith lol - alice isn’t the tidiest, but she was surprised by how often faith just leaves things where they are instead of putting them away Who leaves the toilet roll empty? alice - she doesn’t do it on purpose, she just forgets to grab a new one on her way out... Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? faith Who forgets to flush the toilet? ...neither of them Who is the prankster around the house? neither of them, really? alice would be more likely to, but even then, it’s not often. unless they’re in a prank war. then all bets are off. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? alice lol -  she tends to leave it in her pant pockets and then they go through the wash... Who mows the lawn? ... casey.  Who answers the telephone? it doesn’t really seem like phones are a thing in hope county after the start of the game? in other aus, though, they both have their own cell phone. it’s easier to get alice by text, but faith will answer if you call.  Who does the vacuuming? their roomba, pikachu. Who does the groceries? they both will - getting a good amount of groceries involves a day trip up to butte, so they make a day of it. Who takes the longest to shower? alice, but only because faith prefers baths. Who spends the most time in the bathroom? alice - her hair takes a lot of work

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? not really.  How many cars do they own? just the one, but alice has an ATV and a dirtbike as well. she much prefers those to the truck. faith will drive any of them, but she doesn’t have one that is “hers” Do they own their home or do they rent? own, technically - it was her parents house, and jane gave it to her when she moved back to hope county. in the “canon” version of their story, faith takes it over the second year after the bombs, when people start moving away from the areas around the hot springs. Do they live in the city or in the country? bumfuck nowhere, as alice says. Do they enjoy their surroundings? eh, alice would like to be back in the city, but she likes hope county well enough - the hiking and fishing is certainly much better than back in LA. faith doesn’t really know anything else, but she’s most comfortable being in the country. What’s their song? “crazy he calls me” What do they do when they’re away from each other? ...normal things? if they can text each other, they probably will be, but other then that they’ll just go about their day. though - during the five years that alice is stuck in the bunker with joe... welllllll, i wrote that if anyone actually reads all of this and is curious 👀 Where did they first meet? technically, the memorial day barbeque at the rye’s, but they had a “proper” introduction at lorna’s truck stop a few days later. Who spends the most money when out shopping? alice. she tends to want to buy any cat toy she sees... Who’s more likely to flash their assets? ...neither of them? Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? dklfjs faith Any mental issues? ooooof. well. i haven’t really thought about it too much, but faith has severe anxiety (particularly after leaving the cult), and both have ptsd from all of that Who’s terrified of bugs? neither of them Who kills the spiders around the house? neither lol - they will both peacefully evacuate it from the premises.  Their favourite place? to be together? they found an abandoned hunting cabin in the henbane that they claimed as theirs. even after the bombs, when they’re reunited, they’ll have the rye’s watch the girls so they can escape there for a few hours. Who pays the bills? alice Do they have any fears for their future? in any version of their story that has the cult? ooh yeah. they’re both worried about faith being accepted in hope county, and in “canon,” they have the worry of, y’know, the apocalypse. Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? alice would try. she really would. but the fanciest place in town that’s still open is the spread eagle... Who’s the tallest? faith. it’s not hard to be taller than alice lol Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? faith! Who wanders around in their underwear? alice, but faith isn’t opposed to walking around without any clothes Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? alice, but faith sings better lol What do they tease each other about? alice’s cooking, the amount of cat hair that is constantly on faith, just little things Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? faith says that alice reminds her of 2006 Do they have mutual friends? at first, lol no - but the ryes, elizabeth, and sharky are won over by faith pretty quickly when she starts to show signs of wanting to leave the project. Who crushed first? alice. she can’t help it, faith is pretty... Any alcohol or substance related problems? ....isn’t that faith’s whole story? Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? a l i c e. in her defence, 3am isn’t too late for her, and the spread eagle is less than a minutes walk from her back door Who swears the most? alice. easily.

[andrea-lyn]

Malex prompt: Liz confides in Michael about Alex's ptsd and mentions that he doesn't seem to be as fine as he's pretending to be because she knows he's trying to be the strong one for everyone else to lean on. Cue worried Michael : ). You can do what you want with this. I know it's oddly specific. You're a great writer : )

(First off, you are very, very sweet, so I hope you enjoy where I’m taking this! Goes AU after 1x08)

***

It’s hard to notice, if you’re not paying attention.

At least, that’s what Liz has said to him three times over the course of this conversation and truthfully, Michael’s kind of tired of hearing it. He can read between the lines and finding out that he’s fucked up by trying to do the right thing stabs him between the ribs like a sharp blade.

“I only noticed when we were hanging out with Maria and her mom the other week,” Liz admits, leaning against his table in the Crashdown. “He zoned out completely when a car backfired and then when the new guy burned a towel and it caught fire, he bolted for the bathroom.”

He hadn’t noticed.

Liz keeps talking, but Michael’s doing his own version of zoning out, because he’d been so busy trying to give Alex space that he’d gone all the way the other way and ignored the obvious signs in his face.

Some genius he is.

“…anyway, I figure maybe I’ll have him come over for dinner this weekend. He can lecture me some more about being a bad friend, but it’d be nice to have him come over.”

Michael has no idea what’s been happening on the human side of things, but this little talk has filled in the blanks. While he’d been working on figuring out how to stop Isobel’s blackouts, Alex has been taking it on himself to worry about Maria and Liz, trying to keep things together, and though it sounds like Liz doesn’t know what’s going on, she also mentions that he’s been hanging out with Valenti more. Then, Isobel had gone into the pod and he and Liz had started working non-stop to fight against that, all while Alex had been fighting his own battles.

He knows a thing or two about burning the candle at both ends.

After the drive-in, Michael had made it a point to give Alex space, but he didn’t think that Alex would take all that space and run himself ragged with it. This calls for an intervention.

“You know what, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Michael says, knowing that Liz doesn’t know about their history, but had seen them hanging out at the drive-in and the reunion, so she knows they’re friends. “Do you mind if I stole him for the night?”

Liz gives him a surprised look, but nods. “Sure! Do you want me to warn him that you’re going to…”

“Nah,” Michael says, not wanting Alex to be undertaking evasive maneuvers just to avoid hanging out with him. “No, I’ll swing by and grab him this weekend, try and take him away and maybe get him to relax.”

Liz packs him up lunch to go, and Michael leaves the diner kicking himself in the ass for assuming that Alex was better off if Michael fully cut him out of his life instead of being a supportive friend instead of wanting things to go right back to that epic, explosive place they’d left it in.

It’s his own fault. He doesn’t really know what it’s like to have real friends, but maybe it’s time he figured it out.

That’s how Michael finds himself at the cabin, with a piece of fabric over his fingertips. He doesn’t intend to use it without Alex’s express permission, but he kind of hopes he’s going to get it.

Alex opens the screen door, staring warily at Michael.

”You know, between Kyle trying to break into my house and now you on my porch with a blindfold, I’m starting to think home ownership is way more exciting than anyone would’ve led me to believe.” He crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together. “What are you doing here, Guerin, I’m busy.”

Yeah, he bets he is.

”I heard that you had lunch with the girls, spent the day with them and Mimi DeLuca,” Michael says, absently running the blindfold back and forth over his hand. “Liz…said some things,” he says, feeling like a weird awkward tattletale. “Look, you did a great thing, being there for Maria,” is what he says, and Michael had been there too for her when she’d broken down.

Now it’s his turn to worry about Alex.

”How about you let someone else watch out for you?” Before Alex can say anything else. “I just want to give you break, Alex, nothing else.”

He knows better than to complicate things by talking about their history or, god forbid, their future. If Alex is still suffering, if he’s still having flashbacks to the war, Michael needs to avoid layering more stress on top of that.

Alex stares at him warily, but turns and locks up behind him. “So the blindfold isn’t a kinky thing?”

Michael doesn’t even take the opening for what it is. He hands it to Alex. “Once we’re in the truck, you can put it on. I figured maybe you wouldn’t mind a bit of a surprise, or you could just use it to grab a few z’s on the drive into town.”

Alex still looks wary, but he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck and after a long moment of thought, he even slides the blindfold on.

The amount of trust it`s taken for him to do that resonates with Michael, and makes him relieved that no matter what had happened between them, it`s not all ruined.

Michael’s been planning this all day. Every time he’d thought about ringing Isobel for help, he remembers where she is and it only makes him work harder on the Alex issue, because it helps to take his mind off the part where he’s failing Iz by not finding a solution.

When he pulls the truck into park, he reaches over to rest his good hand on top of Alex’s. “Hey,” he murmurs. “We’re here, you can take that off.”

Alex does, slowly, and it rumples his hair. It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Michael’s body not to reach over and fix it for him, but he manages (barely). He watches with delight as Alex registers where they are.

”Guerin,” Alex exhales, climbing out of the truck, leaving the blindfold on the seat. He’s staring up at the UFO Emporium sign, but Michael quickly leads them inside so Alex can see the rest.

He’d set this up earlier and everything is ready. There’s a guitar lying up against one of the drapes covering an exhibit, there’s a six-pack of beer, and a few blankets on the ground. Michael watches as Alex runs through shock, surprise, grief, and then lands on a sad fondness.

He knows this isn’t going to change anything, but it’s not about them.

Tonight is about Alex.

“Liz mentioned that when you and Maria were hanging out with Mimi, you seemed kind of spaced out sometimes,” Michael admits, hoisting himself to sit up on one of the empty plinths, leaning his shoulder back against a starry wall. “It got me thinking that ever since you’ve been back, it’s kind of been nonstop for you. I mean, the parade, the reunion,” he lists, “but then you were moving into a new place, trying to adjust to Liz being back in town, Valenti being back in your life…”

“How do you know all this?”

“Liz and I,” Michael says, making a face, “talk now.”

There’s plenty of time for that when you’re spending your days and nights trying to find a cure for Isobel, who’s sitting in a pod waiting for them to figure it out.

“I wish I could videotape that, make her watch you make that face,” Alex comments, with an amused smirk. He keeps walking inside, studying the place, noticing the thin layer of dust though things have started to move around in preparation for the re-opening.

“Michael…”

Michael feels his stomach twist up. Alex has never called him by his first name and while he’s always wanted it, he’s not sure what it means to hear it off his lips. “Yeah?”

“You brought me to the alien museum.”

“Yeah.”

“…are you ready to tell me?”

Michael stares at Alex and his first thought isn’t, how do you know?

No. His first thought is that it explains why Alex has been so tense, why some of that old stress has been coming back. He’s found out about aliens, all the awful things that happened in the past, and he’s been thrown back into a war zone, only it’s because instead of a government putting him in the face of danger, now it’s his friends.

Michael swallows back the lump in his throat, shaking his head. “Alex,” he chides. “I brought you here so you would stop making it all about someone else. You don’t have to spend every minute being strong for your father or your country or even me. If you want to feel like shit, I highly recommend it. It goes great with a whisky chaser. You don’t have to pretend to be okay all of the time.”

Though, Michael reflects, he can only imagine the number Jesse Manes had done on his son when it comes to perceptible weakness.

“You don’t have to be strong around me about anything. Your leg, the war, being back, finding out about me,” he says, even though that last bit scares the shit out of him. “I know you don’t want to be with me, but I’m not going anywhere. I think I proved that over the last ten years.”

Alex is staring at him and hasn’t run away, so Michael feels safe to keep going.

”When you’re ready to stop trying to fix everything else, when you’re tired of being the base of support and the voice of reason for everyone else, I’m here. However you want me, I’m here.”

He’s not expecting the hug he gets from Alex, though it quickly shifts from being an embrace into something messier. It’s Alex burying his face in Michael’s neck, tears against his skin, fingernails scratching Michael’s shirt as he struggles to hold on, all while his breathing goes messy.

It’s a man who’s falling apart because he can and he’s allowed to.

Michael strokes his back, not hushing him or telling him that it’s all going to be okay. He doesn’t like lies or secrets when he can avoid them and right now, he needs to be Alex’s rock. He needs to be able to comfort him.

So he doesn’t make empty promises. “I’ve got you,” is what he says instead. “I’m here, Alex. I’m here when you need me.”

Alex drifts back and when he breathes in, it sounds shaky, but not broken.

That’s when Michael knows he didn’t fuck up.

They spend the night sitting six feet apart, drinking beer and talking. Alex plays the guitar and Michael lets his chaotic mind drift into silence, while Alex lies sprawled on the ground and talks about what it had been like overseas, though he doesn’t talk about the day he’d lost his leg.

Michael isn’t surprised. He knows they’ve got a long way to go, in all kinds of ways. When it’s two in the morning, Alex finally struggles to his feet, gesturing down to his leg.

”I really should get back home. I might not turn into a pumpkin, but my leg definitely gets as red as a tomato if I wear this too long.”

”I’ll drive you,” Michael assures, tidying everything up and dumping it into the bed of his truck. The silence in the truck on the way back is nowhere near as tense and awkward as it had been on the way, and Michael’s smiling privately given how he feels like he finally did something right.

Alex lingers on the porch waving at him, and maybe Michael’s just buzzing from spending the night with Alex after being away for so long, but he thinks maybe they’ve turned a corner.

There’s still so much to talk about. Michael’s history, Alex’s leg, all the unspoken traumas they’re hiding under a shallow veneer, but he’s accomplished his goal tonight – make sure Alex knows he doesn’t always have to be the strong one, that someone will be there if he wants to break down.

Next Saturday, Michael is working on a few cars at the junkyard when he hears the tires of a truck pull up.

“I brought coffee,” comes Alex’s voice, sounding worn and tired. “You feel like taking a break? It’s been … it’s been a hell of a day,” he says, and Michael can’t help how happy he is to see Alex willingly coming to him instead of forcing himself to reshape his life into his father’s ideal image.

He’s always known that Alex is the strongest man he knows, that’s one of the things he loves about him. He’s also incredibly proud, now, to know that Alex feels open enough to be weak around Michael, which takes a different kind of strength that even Michael isn’t sure he possesses.

“I told you, I’m always here,” Michael says, letting the hood of the car he’s working on slam shut.

He’s ready to live up to his promises for Alex, because he’d do absolutely anything for him and he looks forward to making sure that he’s not the only one in town to support him in those moments of strain and stress.

For now, he’s more than happy being that person, because if anyone deserves to be supported the way he gives that strength to everyone else, it’s Alex Manes.

[curiousdamage]

Gonna give you the same "I want them ALL" Treatment for Johnny and Shannon on the Relationships Asks....HAVE FUN XD!! You don't have to go into detail...but I hope it keeps you busy and I'd LOVE to read your HC on Johnny and Shannon!!

I hope this is the one you meant.  IF not, let me know and I’ll try another one.L Let’s do this.

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?  Johnny

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Shannon

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Johnny

Who trashes the house? Neither

Do either of them get physical? Shannon has, but Johnny doesn’t.

How often do they argue/disagree? a few times a month

Who is the first to apologize? Usually Johnny

Sex:

Who is on top? they take turns

Who is on the bottom? Same

Who has the strangest desires? Niether

Any kinks? Not really.

Who’s dominant in bed? both can be dominant but usually Johnny

Is head ever in the equation? Well how else would he know about the dessert thing?

If so, who is better at performing it? Shannon

Ever had sex in public?  Often, but never where they could seen, just possibly caught

Who moans the most? Shannon

Who leaves the most marks? Shannon

Who screams the loudest? Shannon

Who is the more experienced of the two? Johnny

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? both, but usually ‘fuck’

Rough or soft?  again, both depending on the situation

How long do they usually last? depends on how drink they are, but usually two rounds at least

Is protection used? yes

Does it ever get boring? that’s one thing they never are.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? A school bathroom after meeting with Robby’s teachers about him misbehaving. It was after school hours.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? they have a child/ren

If so, how many children do your muses want/have? 1

Who is the favorite parent? Neither

Who is the authoritative parent? Shannon

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Johnny

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Johnny

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Johnny

Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Neither.  Johnny rarely even knows about them and Shannon doesn’t go.

Who changes the diapers? Neither anymore but both did

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? same as above

Who spends the most time with the children? Shannon by proximity

Who packs their lunch boxes? neither

Who gives their children ‘the talk’? neither gives Robby ‘the talk’.  In “But I’ll Never Stop Trying’ both give Laura a very awkward version of ‘the talk’.

Who cleans up after the children? both, then neither once they can clean up after themselves

Who worries the most? Johnny

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Johnny

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Johnny

Who is the little spoon? Shannon

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Johnny

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Johnny

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? not long at all.

Who gives the most kisses? Johnny

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? dancing

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Shannon’s bed

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Johnny

How often do they get time to themselves? rarely

Sleeping:

Who snores? Neither

If both do, who snores the loudest? Neither

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? if they are together then together, even if just for a night

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? start out cozy but move away

Who talks in their sleep? Neither

What do they wear to bed? usually nothing

Are either of your muses insomniacs? Johnny

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? No

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? side by side

Who wakes up with bed hair? both

Who wakes up first? whichever one Robby wakes up.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Neither

What is their favourite sleeping position? both sleep on their stomachs

Who hogs the sheets? Johnny

Do they set an alarm each night? No

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Shannon’s yes, Johnny’s no.

Who has nightmares? Both

Who has ridiculous dreams? Johnny

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Johnny

Who makes the bed? Shannon

What time is bed time? whenever

Any routines/rituals before bed? no

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?  Shannon

Work:

Who is the busiest? Johnny

Who rakes in the highest income? Johnny

Are any of your muses unemployed? Both at times

Who takes the most sick days? Shannon

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Johnny

Who sucks up to their boss? Shannon, Johnny doesn’t have a boss

What are their jobs? Karate Sensei, Bartender/retail/waitress/none

Who stresses the most? Neither

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Johnny, yes.  Shannon, no.

Are your muses financially stable? Not really

Home:

Who does the washing? They do their own.

Who takes out the trash? Robby.

Who does the ironing? the dry cleaner

Who does the cooking? Both

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Shannon

Who is messier? Johnny

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Johnny

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Both

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither

Who is the prankster around the house? Laura or Neither

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Shannon

Who mows the lawn? No lawns

Who answers the telephone? Both

Who does the vacuuming? Shannon

Who does the groceries? Both

Who takes the longest to shower? Shannon

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Shannon

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Yes

How many cars do they own? 2

Do they own their home or do they rent? Rent

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Coast

Do they live in the city or in the country? City

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Sometimes

What’s their song? Crazy Bitch.  J/K.  They really don’t have one.

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Relax

Where did they first meet? In But I’ll Never Stop Trying, at Bobby’s.  Otherwise in a bar

How did they first meet? In the bar option, some guy was hassling her and he told him to knock it off and ended up punching him when he swung at him.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Shannon

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither?

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Both

Any mental issues? So many. 

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither

Who kills the spiders around the house? EIther

Their favourite place? The beach 

Who pays the bills? Both

Do they have any fears for their future? Only about Robby

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Neither

Who uses up all of the hot water? Shannon

Who’s the tallest? Johnny

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Johnny

Who wanders around in their underwear? Johnny

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Johnny

What do they tease each other about? Him about her reputation, her about his past

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Shannon

Do they have mutual friends? Not really

Who crushed first?  Shannon

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Definitely.  Both are alcoholics

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Johnny

Who swears the most? Johnny

I DID IT!

[despairforme]

After a pretty heated night last night, Grimmjow woke up on his own accord to make a pot of coffee. Hes a little sore, and currently leaning lazily against the kitchen counter, watching the coffee pot fill up. As far as looks go, his hair is a mess, hickies lace his neck (and who knows where else), and let's not forget the fact that Grimmjow's wearing nothing but his boxers, and one of his boyfriend's baggy black shirts. It smells just like Nnoitra, which is the sole reason why he's wearing it.

     When Nnoitra woke up that morning, he could clearly feel that he had… Well - exerted himself last night. He blinked sleepily at the faint morning light, and it took a few moments before he realized WHY he was feeling do worn out. As soon as he remembered what had actually happened, a wide grin spread across his sleepy face. He would’ve sat up, if not for a certain someone weighing him down. As per usual, Grimmjow was sleeping with his face buried in the crook of his neck. His single arm was draped over Nnoitra’s chest, probably to try and absorb his warmth. Nnoitra knew it would take an earthquake to wake Grimmjow up. He stretched his neck a little, which only caused Grimmjow’s face to disappear deeper into the crook. His breath was warm against Nnoitra’s skin, and he let out a small hum. This really was perfect. They had finally gotten past that one thing that had been a ‘ problem ‘ between them. Mah, the only reason why there had even BEEN an issue, was because of Nnoitra’s stupid thoughts. With the feeling of comfort and, almost something akin to triumph sinking into him, it was hard to even recall why he had been so stressed out about all of this in the first place. He closed his eye(s) again, almost tempted to try to go back to sleep, but of course he knew that that would be impossible. So, instead, he settled for running a hand up and down Grimmjow’s back. As always, his skin was slightly cold to the touch.

     Half an hour past like this. It was so strange to be able to lay awake in bed without being swarmed with negative thoughts. Whenever he was left alone to think, he always ended up psyching himself out. That didn’t happen today. Instead, he was just happy and relaxed. What was it he had been worried about again? Something stupid, obviously. Yeah - everything was fine now. MORE than fine, actually. Some scenes from last night began to show themselves before him, and he couldn’t help but smirk, and feel a deep sense of affection towards Grimmjow. He had been really good. Way better than Nnoitra had ever imagined. He didn’t think it had anything to do with how long it had been since Nnoitra got laid, or how badly he had wanted him. This was simply what it was like to be THAT intimate while loving someone as much as Nnoitra loved Grimmjow. Wow - how fucking lame. Another thing that was lame as hell, was that Nnoitra was laying there recalling his favorite moments from last night. Grimmjow’s expression - his voice - being that close to him— OKAY. He better fucking control himself or he would end up getting a hard on. He pushed his sexual thoughts away as best he could, and focused on gently brushing his fingers against Grimmjow’s back.

     Nnoitra could’ve stayed like this for hours, caressing Grimmjow and bathing in this feeling of bliss. But - he got hungry. This always happened, and Nnoitra didn’t really mind. It would be really mean of him to wake Grimmjow up, especially considering the ordeal his boyfriend had gone through last night. Carefully, Nnoitra pushed Grimmjow off him, so that he was laying down on his actual pillow again, rather than Nnoitra’s chest. That was probably way more comfortable ( Nnoitra wasn’t exactly soft ). After sitting up, he brushed a few strands of hair out of Grimmjow’s face. Holy shit his hair was messier than he had EVER seen it ( and that said a lot ). With another smile, Nnoitra left him to go to the bathroom.

     Today, he decided to skip the shower. Not because he didn’t need one ( actually, he really did ), but because he didn’t want to wash away the scent of sex that was still faintly evident on his skin. It was just too fucking satisfying. He pushed both hands through his hair before bringing them to his face to take a deep breath. Yeah, he sure did smell like bedroom. Nnoitra realized he was grinning again, and wiped the stupid expression away with a shake of his head. Then, he went to make breakfast.

     ❝ Mornin’. ❞ He mumbled to Tulip, who waited for him to fill her bowl, like he always did ( only fair, since he was the first one to get up ). Nnoitra took the cat food from the shelf, and filled her bowl. As always, he had to keep himself from tasting the cat food. It always sounded so tasty when she chewed on it. Mah, hopefully they had some human food in the fridge. 

     When he opened it, it was pleasantly surprising. He thought he had eaten these spring rolls already! Eagerly, Nnoitra took out the little box, and was quick to bring it to the coach, where he sat down to eat. He made SURE to save two for Grimmjow though. Nnoitra was assuming that, unlike himself, Grimmjow wouldn’t be in the best of moods when he woke up. His body would probably be sore and aching, which was enough to make anyone moody. That meant he should be nice to him. Saving two out of six spring rolls was Nnoitra’s version of ‘ nice ‘. He was doing his best okay! While chewing on the last of ‘ his ‘ spring rolls, Nnoitra pulled up his phone to play that usual mobile game. When he checked the time, he realized that it wouldn’t be too long until Grimmjow got up.

     A few games later - the bedroom door was opened. Nnoitra looked up at Grimmjow, who was standing there, appearing to be wearing nothing but a black very large t-shirt that Nnoitra recognized as his own. He ALWAYS enjoyed seeing Grimmjow wear his clothes. There was something really possessive about it - on both sides. Nnoitra got to show that Grimmjow was his by Grimmjow wearing HIS clothes, and Grimmjow in return got to show that Nnoitra belonged to him by taking his clothes. Not to mention that black looked very good on him. It made his blue hair appear even brighter, and his tanned skin had a richer color. Nnoitra smirked at him when he looked at his hair. What a mess. It looked like he had walked through a storm or something. Speaking of being a mess - it wasn’t just his hair that was giving off that vibe. Nnoitra noticed lots of marks on the visible parts of Grimmjow’s body. Purple and red marks that were left there by him. This made his smirk widen further, and Grimmjow probably realized what he was thinking.

     ❝ Good mornin’. ~ ❞ Maybe he shouldn’t be so cheerful. From how Grimmjow moved ( he was walking over to the kitchen now ), it was obvious that he was sore. Oh, and he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet, so his mood was most likely not the best. Too bad Nnoitra couldn’t control his own mood. It wasn’t like it was a common thing for him to be so damned joyful. Nnoitra got up to follow Grimmjow to the kitchen. He would’ve made coffee for him, but honestly… He didn’t know how to.  Nnoitra watched him make the coffee with that same slightly suggestive smirk on his face ( he really couldn’t help it ). In the end, he couldn’t help himself, and so, he reached out to brush his fingers against Grimmjow’s marked neck. He had to admit - He really suited Grimmjow. His marks and his shirt. Should he ask him if he was okay? Maybe. Then again - wouldn’t that be a bit of an insult? It wasn’t like he didn’t think Grimmjow could handle him ( he had proved that last night ). So, rather than asking him if he was alright, Nnoitra’s smirk just widened.  ❝ Ya look good. ~ ❞ Though ‘ good ‘ didn’t even BEGIN to describe how attractive Nnoitra thought he was. One would’ve thought that now that he had finally gotten to sleep with Grimmjow, some of that desire would’ve been fed, but in reality - it was even greater now than it had been. Nnoitra hadn’t thought that was possible, and yet, here he was. He could hardly even LOOK at Grimmjow without wanting to touch him. Kiss him. And — Yeah okay calm down.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #80: Burglar.

Written: 3/29/2017

Things were going very well for Grace, she had big things coming her way. Sure, she may have been suffering from a pill addiction that caused her to break into people’s houses so that she could make off with their valuables, just to be able to get high for a couple of days, but when she was high, when she was able to pop a couple capsules of bliss into her mouth she was doing great, and all she had to do was lounge around, feeling great about herself. When that would wear off, she would put on her old, high school backpack, get on her bike, and ride around in neighborhoods in the morning, when the children were at school and the parents were at work, so that she could leisurely get pill money. If you think about it, she would always try to explain, most people have to work terrible nine to five jobs all week, and have to deal with being stressed out, rush hour traffic, taxes, having to go to terrible children’s sporting events where everyone had trouble kicking the ball, or music recitals where the children struggled to play the right notes, and on and on, stuck in your loveless suburban marriage where you hope that you wont be the first one to cheat, so that you can divorce your spouse and make off with all of the valuables, leaving the spouse with the shitty kids. In her mind, she skipped all of those steps and went straight to stealing, figuring that she somehow had it good, that she cheated the system, that even though she had spent a third of that year in different abandoned houses, she was living the American dream, she was a part of the real 1%.

Grace spent a lot of time explaining this to her other pill head friends, who would not listen to her, only judge how much of an addicted mess she had become, while she used to be so pretty, have so much potential. Then, when Grace would stop talking either from finishing what she had to say, or just kind of drifting off and staring into space, her talking companion would then explain to her why they had it so good, and that things were really great for them at the time, the world was at their feet, and Grace would quietly think about how her companion had become an addicted mess, and how she was glad she would never end up like that.

Sometimes Grace would move around malls, doped up and moving like she just stumbled out of bed after being in a coma for years, gawking at everyone who passed by, thinking of how pathetic they all were, having become addicted to name brands, to horrible products that they would never need, hardly use, and would eventually be confused why the purchased the products in the first place. In her eyes, they were all under the will and control of advertising, they were a bunch of yuppies who had to follow the wills of an invisible hand that guided them, not knowing how to think or act because of the advertising that controlled their lives, and she would pop another pill, and would try to figure out how that could happen to people. Sometimes, when she did this, she would throw up, and 36.7% of the time she would throw up on herself.

Everything that Grace owned were all left over from when she had been in high school, four years ago, because she’d been chasing the high ever since her first college party, where she learned, from a group of surprisingly well groomed and spoken stoners, who taught her that cannabis doesn’t actually kill your brain cells, so she wondered what other drugs had she been lied to about. She never touched the plant, because, in her opinion, it made people seem like characters in terrible comedies, so she decided to go for something else that would seem more interesting, and decided to smoke some acid, which obviously wasn’t acid, and ended up where she is now. Wearing her old, stained, soiled high school gym clothes, covered in rashes, hands shaking, standing in some random backyard in the middle of suburbia, trying to figure out how she can get to the second story window that is somehow open.

As she tries to figure this out, she puts her clipboard into her old backpack, knowing that she wont need it now, since its a prop that she uses to case houses. She goes door to door, holding up the clipboard, and sees if anybody is home, or if she can hear any sounds of life on the inside. If somebody does answer the door, she tells them that she is doing a survey, and wants to know if they would be interested in changing religions, which almost always gets the door slammed in her face, except for the one time that she had ended up at the house of an ex-Mormon, who had recently left his church and was trying to deal with the pressures of being shunned. He tried to invite her inside, so she explained that the religion was Scientology, and offered to give him a personality test, which finally did the trick, since he in no way wanted to go back into the arms of yet another cult. After drinking too much that night, wanting to see what alcohol was like, he started to become paranoid and thought that he was going to have to run from cults all of his life, a train of logic that only made sense in an altered state, and decided to jump in front of a passing train, but Grace had no idea that this had all happened.

In an act of desperation to get through the open window, Grace threw her back pack in first, but then forgot why she had done that in the first place. Out of ideas, she decided to try the windows on the first story, and the back door, which turned out to be something she should have tried in the first place, since the door had been unlocked the whole time. The idea of an open door messed with her head, her job usually wasn’t this easy, and from what she couldn’t tell was intuition or pill headed paranoia, she felt like it would be a bad idea to go inside of the house, but she had to trudge on, because her last two doses were inside of her backpack. However, when she did walk inside, the house turned out to be surprisingly lovely.

Most of the houses she had burglarized had been poorly decorated, and seemed like the furniture had been placed around without much of a thought about how it looked. Plenty of houses had been messier than some of the places that she would get high in, even if they didn’t have any of the same health risks, which didn’t include the house with the serious mold problem that the owners attempted to just put a painting over and forget about. If being a domestic voyeur taught Grace anything, it was that money didn’t make you clean or organized, especially since she knew a heroin addict who was an intense clean freak, who had to keep their needles organized, and tried to wash down and sanitize the floors of the abandoned houses they would shoot up in, and ended up dying when they got high and passed out, falling face first into a puddle of bleach. This death was sad, but only when she was sober, because the guy would always demand that everyone give him their clothes, so he could take them down to the laundromat and get them cleaned.

The back door lead into the kitchen, where Grace was now standing, where she spotted a large sandwich bag, filled with sugar cookies. Attached to the bag was a note, which read, “Do not touch! These are for the bake sale. Eat the ones in the fridge.” Ignoring the impulse to eat the cookies anyways, as a sort of fuck you, she decided to save her appetite for whatever could be in the fridge, which could be better than cookies. And if there wasn’t anything better than cookies, then she could just steal the ones from the fridge, leaving none for the family to snack on, since the rest were going towards that bake sale. People had often told her that she was an asshole when she was high. Inside the fridge, however, was a box of leftover pizza, and she was so excited about it that she had completely forgotten about the sweets. Most of the time, when she ate, it was just whatever crap she was able to steal from houses, along with the objects of value, and often she would just eat sleeves of mas produced cookies, cheese puffs that gave her a sort of orange clown smile, chips that tasted like the sauce you’re supposed to put on bad steak, or whatever left overs there were, but she never bought anything, all of her money went towards preventing sobriety, and it had been a lifetime before she was able to have pizza. It made her feel like a kid all over again, and not in the crying, soiling, and dumbed down ways that too many pills had made her feel like a kid.

After finding a plate, she put four slices, stacked on top of each other haphazardly, on it and stuck it in the microwave for two minutes. In that time she figured that she could go up and get her backpack, then come down to enjoy the meal, then start looking for jewelery, hidden money, or even a gun, which sells for a lot on the streets since its more valuable to have a stolen gun, which is difficult to trace back to you after a crime is committed, especially if you dump it somewhere, like the sewer or the bottom of the river. As she moved through the house, climbed up the stairs, she couldn’t stop admiring it, unable to tell if it was the pills, or if it was really just the magical place that it felt like it was. This wasn’t the house of just another middle class drone, this was a place that was lived in by real people.

When she finally found her backpack, it turned out to be in the master bathroom, which contained a jacuzzi bathtub, and she wished that she had the ability to walk out of the house with it, since it would be amazing to live in one of those while she was strung out, then, in a sudden revelation, realizing that she was still holding, without a second thought she popped another pill and began to draw the bath, and when it was only a third full of water, she heard the microwave go off. After rushing (her high version of rushing was more like a regular paced shuffle) downstairs to get her food, then rushing back upstairs to get to the tub, she realized that it was beginning to overflow with water, and had to struggle with the mental effort of deciding where to put the pizza down, so that she could stop the flow of the water, then deciding that there wasn’t enough time, the water was going to reach her backpack, so she would go to just turn off the water, but had to hold the plate in her hands, so she looked for a place to set it down, and just kept repeating this mental dance until she had accidentally dropped the plate into the bathtub, which solved one problem, and allowed her to solve the other.

Effects of the pill were beginning to kick in full force, and she was ready to relax herself, so she decided to strip, and eased herself into the tub, making sure not to sit on her lunch, which was floating around in the water. When you are strung out and ready to eat, you will find yourself eating plenty of things that you would never touch if you were sober, and compared to some of the high meals that grace has had, soggy pizza wasn’t really an issue. In her mind pizza was pizza, even if it did keep falling apart, or the toppings were floating around in the water, getting swirled around by the jets, it was still a delicacy to her, and it was a great experience for her, well, until she heard the front door open.

Simultaneously tense and relaxed, not having enough time to question this strange feeling, she wasn’t sure of what to do. Wanting to hide, but feeling that leaving the tub wasn’t an option, she slouched down a little bit, so only the top of her head, nose and up, was sticking out of the water, and wondered if she had left the back door open. “Hello?” A male voice called. “I saw that you left the back door open, where are you at?” She held her breath for about five seconds, and then exhaled, blowing bubbles in the water. “Or do you want me to find you?” He sounded more playful than threatening, she wondered if he thought she was one of his kids, but as she slowly put this hypothesis together, he heard a, “There you are”, and turned around to see a middle aged, mustached man in a crumpled suit. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Deciding to stick with the kid angle, since she was too high to reassess the situation, she said, “What’s going on, am I grounded?” That’s how teenagers would react, right?

Confused at first, and then putting stuff together, “Ohh, right.” A smile came formed on his face that showed he did not, at that moment, have a single good intention. “Right. Well young lady, I’m very upset that you skipped school, I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

“What, so like,” pausing to fish out a soggy slice of pepperoni, “No television or something?” Then she ate it, surprised that her cover had worked.

“No, no that’s too lenient. You’ve been too much of a handful lately, your mother is very upset and wants me to do something about it,” his voice had a mock sternness, “And don’t forget about all of the legal hot water we’ll be in,” too focused on her chest to notice the soggy pizza remnants, “because you keep refusing to go to school. No, we’re beyond negative punishment, its time for positive.”

When he began to unzip his pants, she started to piece together that something was wrong, but the pulse of the tub’s jets made it difficult to think, so she asked, “What’s.. What’s, somethings wrong here.”

“Of course its wrong,” he said, slipping off his pants, leaving himself in briefs, “I’m your father, aren’t I? But we’re far past-”

“Oh fuck,” eyes going wide when she figured it out, “What the fuck is happening right now, what the fuck is WRONG with you?” Starting to climb out of the bath, cheese remains clinging to her skin, “The fuck, man. The FUCK.”

“Oh, you’re not one to judge,” Said the false father, with his pants around his ankles, “You’re just some whore.”

“What do you- WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO,” stumbling and falling to the ground, landing on her left shoulder with a thud.

“I thought the agency told me that nothing was off limits, and here you are, trying to act all high and mighty when-wait, what the hell is on your skin.”

Wobbling to her feet, “I think, I don’t know. Cheese maybe.”

“Why the hell, is that, why is there pizza in the bath, wait, what-”

“No, no, no-” Finally standing, turning to face him, jabbing a finger at his mushy chest, “You’re the one who has to answer the questions here.”

“Why would you bathe with food?”

“Why would you bathe with your daughter?”

“What is this, some kind of incest inquisition? And, gross, I would never take a bath with my daughter, you’re not actually my daughter, so its not bad if-”

Marching off, yelling behind her shoulder, heading towards the walk in closet to steal some of the wifes clothes, “You disgusting piece of shit.”

“Hey, at least I’m not some whore who rides around on her high horse. Don’t be a prude.” After a pause, “Also, I’ll add in an extra $500 if you change your mind.”

Poking her head out of the closet she just entered, “Making that a total of…?”

“$1,750, duh.”

“Actually, I might reco-”

“But if you agree, you have to wear her clothes, that’s non negotiable.”

Before she could tell him to fuck himself, there was a sound from downstairs, and she could hear a woman say, “Hello?” And the man, seeming a little panicked, ran  downstairs to check. Taking advantage of the diversion, Grace slipped on the first thing she could find, which was a floral, maternity dress that made her look like she was wearing a table cloth, and decided to book it out of there. As the pervert and the mystery woman talked downstairs, Grace stumbled to grab her back pack, and decided that she might as well try to grab any valuables she could, which wasn’t very difficult since it was mostly stashed in the same dresser, the first place she checked. After stuffing a fistful of jewelry, a shoe box labeled “vacation money”, and a handgun, she decided to move down the stairs, but ran into the man, and another young girl, who were heading up the stairs. The man looked confused and angry.

“Who the hell are you? This broad says she’s from the agency, so who-”

“One second” said Grace, as she fished around in her backpack.

“No, I will not wait, you can’t just break into my house and, are you even listening to me? Maddy, help me out here.”

“My name is-” The escort tried to say.

“I don’t care what your real name is,” the man interrupted, “Maddy is my daughters name, so when-”

He shut up when Grace leveled the gun at him, hand shaking, eyes twitching, strung out and tired of this guy’s fucked up fetish. “Shut the fuck up!”

“But-” he tried to explain, raising his hands up.”

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He listened. “Now go downstairs or I’ll shoot your dick off, and I’ll go door to fucking door, telling everyone in the neighborhood about how much of a fucking creep you are.”

However, when the man and his hooker got to the bottom of the stairs, somebody unlocked the front door, barged in, and some older woman was now in the mix, saw the man and his whore, and screamed, “I fucking new it, you fucking piece of shit! You’re cheating on me aren’t you?!” He didn’t respond, Grace was working on processing this new development. “Did you think I would find out, Nathan? You god damned piece of human garbage, I’m going to divorce you, I’m going to take everything you fucking own, and you’re going to have to deal with the god damned kids.”

“Actually,” Grace pitched in, feeling like she could pitch in, feeling nice for being able to be a part of this domestic drama, “you probably should keep the kids, he-”

“There’s no fucking way I’m dealing with those little shits, you can go to hell! Who are you anyways another whore?”

The escort was standing against a wall, praying that she would go unnoticed.

“Honey,” the husband said, “be careful, she has a-”

She warned him, didn’t she? Grace couldn’t stand to hear that fucker open his mouth, and even though it was far from the reasonable thing to do, she had said what she would do, and had to stick to her word. It could just have been a mix of her adrenaline, which had been slowly building, the power that the gun gave her, which she never felt before, the hatred she felt towards the man, which she was pretty used to, this intense level of hatred, but had never been able to do anything about it, and when she did, she never had the guts to go through, so it all was a perfect storm, a storm of lead that rained down from above, striking like lighting with the boom of compressed gas leaving the barrel, and she realized later that it probably wasn’t as exciting as she thought it was, and that it probably was just due to the high, but that lead her to question how much of her perceptions of the experience had been altered by the drug, she would wonder how much of it she made up in her head, but those were thoughts for later, when she would be far away, getting clean, but as she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down on the couple that was bleeding out on top of each other, she knew that she still had a ways to go before she would hit bottom.

[pastdie]

✩

SEND ‘✩’ FOR THE FOLLOWING  //  @starslayer.

DISAGREEMENTS:

WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO RAISE THEIR VOICE?     cason.WHO THREATENS TO LEAVE BUT NEVER ACTUALLY DOES?     kylo.WHO ACTUALLY KEEPS THEIR WORD AND LEAVES?     cason probs. WHO TRASHES THE HOUSE?     k y l o.DO EITHER OF THEM GET PHYSICAL?     kylo gets physical, but not aimed @ cason. just shoves clutter around.HOW OFTEN DO THEY ARGUE/DISAGREE?     very rarely now. they see eye to eye after years.WHO IS THE FIRST TO APOLOGISE?     ky  !

SEX:

WHO IS ON TOP?     they switch, but cason most of the time.WHO IS ON THE BOTTOM?     kylo most of the time.WHO HAS THE STRANGEST DESIRES?     cason probably has more than kylo tbh.ANY KINKS?     a few,    &     more being discovered.WHO’S DOMINANT IN BED?     CASON.IS HEAD EVER IN THE EQUATION?     alwaaays.IF SO, WHO IS BETTER AT PERFORMING IT?     ky tbh lol.EVER HAD SEX IN PUBLIC?      on the speech platform, on the bridge, in halls, in the control room, where haven’t they fucked?WHO MOANS THE MOST?    KYLO OH BOY.WHO LEAVES THE MOST MARKS?     kylo does for sure. WHO SCREAMS THE LOUDEST?     K Y L O.WHO IS THE MORE EXPERIENCED OF THE TWO?     cason.DO THEY ‘FUCK’ OR ‘MAKE LOVE’?     make often more often than not.ROUGH OR SOFT?     both, but ky is gentle when he tops.HOW LONG DO THEY USUALLY LAST?     depends tbh.IS PROTECTION USED?      nah.DOES IT EVER GET BORING?     to be absolutely cheesy, not when you love the other deeply.WHERE IS THE STRANGEST PLACE THEY’D HAVE SEX?     the interrogation chair ok.

FAMILY   (   A/B/O VERSION OF MAIN VERSE ):

DO YOUR MUSES PLAN ON HAVING CHILDREN/OR HAVE CHILDREN?     they have children.IF SO, HOW MANY CHILDREN DO YOUR MUSES WANT/HAVE?     they have twins & will probably have more.WHO IS THE FAVORITE PARENT?   ky.WHO IS THE AUTHORITATIVE PARENT?     caaaason. WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO ALLOW THE CHILDREN TO HAVE A DAY OFF SCHOOL?     ky.WHO LETS THE CHILDREN INDULGE IN SWEETS AND JUNK FOOD WHEN THE OTHER ISN’T AROUND?     cason loves sweets, so he might be more inclined to do so.WHO TURNS UP TO EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES TO SUPPORT THEIR CHILDREN?     they both do.WHO GOES TO PARENT TEACHER INTERVIEWS?     both.WHO CHANGES THE DIAPERS?     i bet cason gags. so kylo.WHO GETS UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO FEED THE BABY?     they take turns, or kylo will kick cason off the bed.WHO SPENDS THE MOST TIME WITH THE CHILDREN?     ky, only because cason is the new galactic emperor. WHO PACKS THEIR LUNCH BOXES?     kylo.WHO GIVES THEIR CHILDREN ‘THE TALK’?     depends on whom asks the oblivious question to who first.WHO CLEANS UP AFTER THE KIDS?     ky.WHO WORRIES THE MOST?     they both do,   but ky more so.WHO ARE THE CHILDREN MORE LIKELY TO LEARN THEIR FIRST SWEAR WORD FROM?       CASON OMG.

AFFECTION:

WHO LIKES TO CUDDLE?     both.WHO IS THE LITTLE SPOON?     it’s an even switch because kylo loves to hold cason at night. or they just face each other and hold on.WHO GETS NAUGHTY IN THE MOST INAPPROPRIATE OF PLACES?     c a s o n.WHO STRUGGLES TO KEEP THEIR HANDS TO THEMSELF?     cason, in sexual terms.    kylo, in terms of holding hands oops.HOW LONG CAN THEY CUDDLE UNTIL ONE BECOMES UNCOMFORTABLE?      THEY NEVER TIRE.WHO GIVES THE MOST KISSES?     it’s probably a war.      ky sneaks in kisses @ night.WHAT IS THEIR FAVOURITE NON-SEXUAL ACTIVITY?     working out/training together, cuddling, killing snoke (WHERE IS THEIR FAVOURITE PLACE TO CUDDLE?     bed tbh. or on the training mats.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO PLAYFULLY GROPE THE OTHER?    cason.   ky wears leggings & they form to that plush ass perfectly.HOW OFTEN DO THEY GET TIME TO THEMSELVES?     not a lot, considering there is a lot of work to be done & kylo has to spend a lot of time training whilst hux keeps the men in line and practically looks out for the order.

SLEEPING:

WHO SNORES?     cason.IF BOTH DO, WHO SNORES THE LOUDEST?     cason.      ky whimpers & squeaks in his sleep from PTSD-induced nightmares DO THEY SHARE A BED OR SLEEP SEPARATELY?     share.IF THEY SLEEP TOGETHER, DO THEY COZY UP TOGETHER OR LAY FAR APART?     even if cason wanted to sleep far apart, ky has a tendency to cling.WHO TALKS IN THEIR SLEEP?     they both do if they have nightmares.WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO BED?     cason wears sleeping pants & a tank top. kylo wears sleeping pants & a long sleeve shirt b/c he doesn’t like the cold.ARE EITHER OF YOUR MUSES INSOMNIACS?     can they be insomniacs if they hardly ever sleep to begin with???CAN SLEEPING PILLS BE FOUND BY THE BEDSIDE?     i bet there is a dresser drawer dedicated to them.DO THEY WRAP THEIR LIMBS AROUND EACH OTHER OR JUST LAY SIDE BY SIDE?     limbs are def entangled.WHO WAKES UP WITH BED HAIR?     kylo’s hair is just a big fluff when he wakes up omg.WHO WAKES UP FIRST?     they both wake up @ the same time.WHO PREPARES BREAKFAST IN BED FOR THE OTHER?     they rarely have time for breakfast. but on the off chance, kylo does.WHAT IS THEIR FAVOURITE SLEEPING POSITION?   spooning & lover’s knot.WHO HOGS THE SHEETS?     ky.     but he is wrapped around cason, to be fair.DO THEY SET AN ALARM EACH NIGHT?     yes.CAN A TELEVISION BE FOUND IN THEIR BEDROOM?     holopad.WHO HAS NIGHTMARES?     both.WHO HAS RIDICULOUS DREAMS?     neither?WHO SPRAWLS OUT AND TAKES UP MOST OF THE BED? cason probs.WHO MAKES THE BED?      cason.WHAT TIME IS BED TIME?     3 AM RIP. ANY ROUTINES/RITUALS BEFORE BED?     brushing teeth, kylo getting cason to stop working, pillow talk, massages.WHO’S THE GRUMPIEST WHEN THEY WAKE UP?     CASON IS.

HOME:

WHO DOES THE WASHING?     ky. he knows how to get those tough stains (blood) out.     WHO TAKES OUT THE TRASH?  droids.WHO DOES THE IRONING?   droids.WHO DOES THE COOKING?     kylo, if there’s time.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN JUST TRYING?     neither tbh?WHO IS MESSIER?    ky.WHO LEAVES THE TOILET ROLL EMPTY?     neither b/c that’s a pain in the ass.WHO LEAVES THEIR DIRTY CLOTHES ON THE FLOOR?   kylo. he has awful depression & has a habit of leaving his clothes around.WHO FORGETS TO FLUSH THE TOILET?     ky ? WHO IS THE PRANKSTER AROUND THE HOUSE?     kylo.WHO LOSES THE CAR KEYS WHEN IT COMES TIME TO GO SOMEWHERE?     “KYLO, WHERE TF DID U PUT THE KEYS TO STARKILLER???”WHO MOWS THE LAWN?     there is no lawn to mow !WHO ANSWERS THE TELEPHONE?     no phones.WHO DOES THE VACUUMING?     droids.WHO DOES THE GROCERIES?     there is no kroger in space.WHO TAKES THE LONGEST TO SHOWER?     kylo. WHO SPENDS THE MOST TIME IN THE BATHROOM?     kylo.

MISCELLANEOUS:

IS MONEY A PROBLEM?HOW MANY CARS DO THEY OWN?      DO THEY OWN THEIR HOME OR DO THEY RENT?DO THEY LIVE NEAR THE COAST OR DEEP IN THE COUNTRYSIDE?DO THEY LIVE IN THE CITY OR IN THE COUNTRY? DO THEY ENJOY THEIR SURROUNDINGS?WHAT’S THEIR SONG?     thinking out loud   -   ed sheeranWHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY’RE AWAY FROM EACH OTHER?     work tbh.WHERE DID THEY FIRST MEET?     some planet that ben back while training as a jedi.HOW DID THEY FIRST MEET?     they bumped shoulders in the marketplace.WHO SPENDS THE MOST MONEY WHEN OUT SHOPPING?WHO’S MORE LIKELY TO FLASH THEIR ASSETS?WHO FINDS IT AMUSING WHEN THE OTHER TRIPS OVER?      kylo omg. ANY MENTAL ISSUES?    tbh ,, there is a lot of past/continuing trauma surrounding these two.WHO’S TERRIFIED OF BUGS?     KYLO.    DAMN THOSE SPACE SPIDERS.WHO KILLS THE SPIDERS AROUND THE HOUSE?        cason!THEIR FAVOURITE PLACE?     the viewport beside their bed aboard the finalizer.WHO PAYS THE BILLS?DO THEY HAVE ANY FEARS FOR THEIR FUTURE?     failure & separation by death.WHO’S MORE LIKELY TO SURPRISE THE OTHER WITH A FANCY DINNER?     cason tbh. he classy.WHO USES UP ALL OF THE HOT WATER?  ky. he usually invites cason into the shower.WHO’S THE TALLEST?   they’re even in height.WHO’S MORE LIKELY TO JUST RANDOMLY HOP INTO THE SHOWER WITH THE OTHER?    both.WHO WANDERS AROUND IN THEIR UNDERWEAR?    cason. ky must always be warm.WHO SINGS THE LOUDEST WHEN SINGING ALONG TO THE RADIO?  kylo.WHAT DO THEY TEASE EACH OTHER ABOUT?WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO CRINGE AT THE OTHER’S FASHION SENSE AT TIMES?   cason @ kylo.DO THEY HAVE MUTUAL FRIENDS? phasma ! that’s space mum.WHO CRUSHED FIRST?  cason.ANY ALCOHOL OR SUBSTANCE RELATED PROBLEMS?    nah.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO STUMBLE HOME, DRUNK, AT 3AM?    cason tbh.   ky likes fruity drinks whilst in their quarters.WHO SWEARS THE MOST?     cason.