#damn you michael for being so irresistible

[bluberryfields]

"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

[autistic-crypt1d]

Season 3 SGA live blogging:

Boy howdy does this season start off wild, here we go!

S1 S2

Updates:

- No Man's Land is so intense omfg. The wraith not only have Ronon and Rodney held hostage, but they've stolen both the info needed to update their FTL drives and the location of Earth and are on their way there. Earth has no ships available to intercept so it's up to the very damaged vessels, the Daedalus and Orion.

- Teyla keeping Atlantis running when Weir is away once again, like the badass intelligent leader she is.

- I forgot the woman who plays one of the IOA people was also Kim from Eureka, why are there so many Eureka peeps in here???

- "can you get this off me? It's down my back. It's down my back." I'm sorry Rodney is so funny when he's miserable and whiney 😂

- "I don't think that's even possible." "Make it possible." Literally everyone to Rodney constantly

- LORNE IS PILOTING THE ORION LET'S GOOOOO

- the Orion blowing up makes me so sad, but at least Lorne and the crew are safe

- the hive ships are so horrifyingly huge, I can't help wondering why the ancients never built anything like that. I mean atlantis and those like it are big but they are so not made for battle like things like the Aurora and Orion. I get that they're scientists and everything, but surely they knew they'd have to fight at some point? I mean they already knew about the Ori and surely they knew about the Wraith before they got to the point they are when the war starts. Idk I'm just surprised we never hear of a warship on the level of the hives.

- finding out the gas doesn't work on queens is super interesting, really emphasizes how different they really are in their abilities

- Misbegotten (interesting word), I remember like nothing of this episode atm

- OH NO, is this the colony episode????

- it is 😭

- none of the other wraith's hair changes color like Michael's. His turns brown once the retrovirus completes the transformation but the rest stay white. Wonder why.

- Irresistible, UGH, LUCIUS. I hate this dude so much, there are not words for how much I hate this man.

- the look of absolute disgust on Rodney's face when Sheppard and him confront Weir, Teyla, Ronon, and Carson in Weir's office is so funny dude, like, SAME.

- BRO you can see Jason trying not to break character and laugh while Weir is handing the gourd to Carson XD

- *smacks Carson in the chest* "Buck up Carson!" "But he needs me!" *Carson starts literally sobbing* I love the interactions in this show dude, they're so damn funny

- omfg Sateda, this episode is so sad but Rodney getting shot in the ass is HILARIOUS

- oh god Ronon's speech with the knife 😭

- just had a thought, can wraith feed on other wraith without them being turned by the retrovirus?

- this episode is so sad because of what Ronon is put through, but my god is he such a badass in it

- it's interesting to learn the wraith have a sort of night vision, makes sense as they evolved from cave bugs, but nonetheless horrifying and neat

- the flashbacks as he has to take the armour off the corpses, ahhhhhhhh

- THE GRENDADE IN THE HALLWAY SCENE WITH THE SPEECH PLAYING OMFG

- the flashbacks combined with reality and BRUTAL

- god, John Sheppard having emotions is so awkward help

- THE GLASS SHARD SCENE DUDE

- Ronon slumping to the ground once he sees Sheppard, AHHHH

- god damn that jump was cool

- Rodney and Carson arguing over the gun so long they already finished killing all the wraith 😂

- seeing Ronon try his best but get absolutely clobbered makes me so sad y'all

- GET THAT MF CARSON

- Ronon hugging Carson and then passing tf out 😭

- "who's flying the ship?" "Me... oh" pfffffft

- Progeny, OH NO

- I love that Sheppard's first reaction to them being "confirmed" as ancients is that he's got a bone to pick with them. The only logical reaction tbh

- ya know, can't help bit feeling a bit of dejavu at the story the replicators gave, that they were all one group of ancients and then diverged... *cough* ori *cough cough* I really need to watch Ark of Truth

- with Elizabeth and Teyla gone, who tf is running Atlantis rn, Chuck? 😂

- I'm sorry but I love Niam. The blank face he makes as Ronon attacks the other guards and Teyla smacks him onto the floor is hilarious. Not to mention the way he just flops when he gets knocked out

- god Rodney being the one to try and trade places with Sheppard, MY HEART

- I forgot he doesn't even try to get through the gate after setting the self destruct omfg

- "they're not people, they're machines, replicators" CHILLS

- oh yeah I guess we do find out who made the nano virus, the replicators, Rodney was spared cuz he had the ancient gene and they can't hurt ancients

- I know I've said it like a billion times but Rodney is hilarious

- PFFFFT Ronon just tossing the frozen replicator out of the chair

- Niam, my precious baby noooo 😭

- ah hell I hate The Real World

- idk it just messes with me I guess, this and the SG-1 episode where Daniel gets infected by the parasite Michello made to kill Goa'uld parasites and everyone just believes he suddenly snapped. I hate those kids of plot lines.

- always happy for an excuse to see Jack though

- OH SHIT "COMMON GROUND", IT'S TODD TIME BABYYYY

- first off, how does Sheppard not realize the dude in the other cell is a wraith just by his voice

- of course Rodney is the first to speak once Sheppard is shown, not Weir or the other teammates, Rodney

- god it's heartbreaking watching Sheppard go through this, all the more so that Todd doesn't want to do this to him either. You can see his hesitation at the second feeding.

- yessss beat their ass grandpa 😂

- oof the tension when they're standing there trying to figure out if they can trust the other to keep their promise and deciding if they'll keep theirs.

- PFFFFT Todd with the damn gun XD

- new Ronon jacket??? Ballerrrr

- AHHHHH the scene where we see Sheppard with his life back is SO COOL.

- Kolya you mf coward

- not Sheppard thanking Rodney out of everyone who came for him XD

- Todd and Sheppard have a weird friendship but god do I love them

- McKay and Mrs. Miller, I am sooooo excited I love this epiaode

- SAM

- "I don't wanna scare you but we are at war." "Did you start it?" "What? No!" PFFFFT

- I love Rodney but he is insufferable this episode

- Jeannie is also quite mean in this episode, just because Rodney is a dick doesn't mean that she has to tell his business to his coworkers. They also suck for laughing at it when they know full well it's upsetting for him.

- the way that Rodney hanging out in Sheppard's room with him is so casual and natural, I LOVE THEM

- ya know, the plot line of this, with the alternate reality being a casualty of the experiment, it reminds me of that one plot line in Star Trek: Discovery

- the group making Rodney feel better about everything after is sweet though

- Phantoms is a pretty good episode if I remember right, but very fucky in a cool way

- “oh enough with the bodies!” I feel ya Rodney

- ok so Major Leonard's team had a camcorder on them and started recording as they were exploring right. We've seen that Rodney carries one too (when Sheppard gets trapped in the sanctuary), my question is why he never uses it

- Carson may be timid and freak out a lot, especially when he's put in a position like sitting in the chair, but he really is brave. I mean even just this episode, they've just been shot at, one is dead, two are wounded, and he still grabs his med bag and gets to work saving the survivor's lives. I just really love him and I wish his bravery was mentioned more, he's such an impressive person.

- I wonder why Ronon is the first to start being affected by the machine. John follows soon after and then Carson and Rodney at some point, Carson more so. We know that Teyla isn't affected at all because of the wraith DNA, but I wonder what causes the variation in the others.

- I'm also curious as to why Ronon, Leonard's team, and the Genii all turn on eachother while Sheppard, Rodney, and Carson have very different hallucinations. I mean Sheppard does try to shoot Ronon, but he hallucinates Teyla as a friend.

- man everyone except Sheppard, Rodney, and Carson have been shot at this point. I'm pretty sure Rodney gets shot too towards the end

- see, now why does Ronon think Sheppard is a wraith, but sees Teyla as Teyla?

- omfg yeah Sheppard shot Rodney. Dude this is a less funny shot than I remembered, I thought he got shot in the leg

- Teyla holding everything together as always, what a badass

- "I'm sorry for shooting everyone!" PFFFT

- oooo The Return episodes

- the midway station is so dope, Rodney and Sam are so smart

- JACK

- a pedestal pops up out of the ground and Ronon just immediately points his gun at it XD

- AHHHH it makes me so sad how excited they were to meet ancients only to be met with that

- Ronon hug-tossing Sheppard 😭

- aw man the nerd trio saying their goodbyes

- I love that not only has Sheppard watched Princess Bride, but remembers it well enough/has seen it enough to quote it

- THE HEAD BONK

- ya know, Rodney mentioned that at least Sheppard still gets to go off world, but why wouldn't he join the SGC? It's not like he doesn't have the experience and they have non military personnel like Daniel and Teal'c soooooo

- it's interesting they've got the retrovirus canisters at the SGC, I mean it makes sense they'd take it back from Atlantis with them.

- "my turtles!"

- Ronon was 1000% fishing for validation that Sheppard still views him as part of the team and it's adorable

- PFFFFFT the replicators getting run over

- man do I love insubordinate Sheppard, how very Colonel O'Neill of you

- Jack and Woolsey are hilarious together I have to say

- "in the unlikely event you don't fail miserably, you're fired." "Yes sir. Looking forward to that." God I love those two together

- I feel like Jack is both loving being back in action and royal pissed at the same time

- Jack is such a badass

- "god you can hold your breath a long time, you almost gave me a heart attack!" "Me too" PFFFFT

- "the backstroke I think" I missed Jack's unbelievable sass so much omfg

- NIAM NO

- "sounds more like plan F, doesn't it? As in "we are totally-"

- oooo Carson, how sassy of you

- I FORGOT THEY HUG 😭

- Echoes is really neat, I love that we get a look into the fauna of another world finally. It's not a bunch but it's still cool, the fact that they could learn some way of communication with humans is so neat, and they not only saved themselves, but Atlantis too.

- ahhhhh the way Ronon immediately grabs Teyla when she starts freaking out to check on her

- awww Rodney whale watching his ocean bestie with his human bestie/love of his life

- I wonder if it was intentional that they set it up so everyone starts experiencing something like right after they talk to someone who is experiencing it

- THE EYE

- OOF, Sheppard's panic when Rodney goes down

- not Sheppard knowing so much about Rodney he can make incredibly specific comments to try and irritate him, knowing if he could actually hear him he couldn't resist responding

- I love that Ronon is always there when Teyla needs help

- god Rodney and Sheppard are so adorably dorky together

- Caldwell you better leave those whales alone

- ahhh! I love hearing Rodney talk about science shit

- omfg Ronon and Teyla are so cute, LOOK AT THAT SMILE

- even after learning that Sheppard has a plan, Ronon doesn't offer to go or help, he stays right there by Teyla's side

- Sheppard and Rodney, chaotic duo extraordinaire

- the coronal mass ejection smashing into the ship, CHILLS

- the way Ronon crouches down beside Teyla with that mischievous smile is so cute, and then he sits right next to her to meditate together, AHHHH. He doesn't even like meditating, he just love spending time with her and it's so damn cute

- UGH Irresponsible.

- Lucius is so unbelievably creepy and manipulative, I HATE HIM SO MUCH

- why is Teyla in the damn tree XD

- how was Sheppard able to use the personal forcefield, they said that it like locks to the person who activates it. Also I wasn't paying a ton of attention this episode, but first time we saw him he asked for the gene inoculation, but Beckett only gave him the antidote so how does he have the gene.

- Tao of Rodney, oh boy, I know what happens but I do not remember the details very well

- poor Rodney man, he's always getting hurt istg

- of course Sheppard volunteers to be the one who watches Rodney

- I love when Sheppard rants about hating the ancients

- "actually I was rhunk more along the lines of you." Uhuh, you can say that you mean this because Sheppard was around ancients that ascended, but we all know the real reason

- also like, the fact they're doing this in Sheppard's room too. They're trying to get him to relax right? One would think that he'd have the easiest time relaxing in his own room but no, Sheppard's room.

- god listening to Rodney apologize to Radek 😭

- THE TEA CEREMONY HELP

- the hug omfg I'm gonna cry

- the book for Elizabeth, I forgot about that dude ahhhhhh

- once again in Sheppard's bedroom

- Sheppard offended at the thought that he and Rodney might not be good

- I forgot he asks Sheppard to read his eulogy AHHHHH

- oh my god Sheppard looks like he's about to cry, you can see him struggling with all of his will not to

- NOW SEE WHY DOES SHEPPARD FEEL THE NEED TO SPECIFY THE KIND OF LOVE AS PLATONIC

- Ronon hugging him, ahhhhhh!!

- see, now there were a bunch of scientists that discovered that room with Rodney, but who did he tell first and ask to play with him? Sheppard

- I love not only the way Sheppard grabs Rodney by the vest to bring him along, but how he is completely unbiased by him doing this

- best of 10?? These mf really spend all of their time together don't they. Chess, the game from the episode, hanging in Sheppard's room, missions, eating together. It's not like there aren't a ton of other people these two could hang out with, but they choose eachother every time

- I'm on The Ark now and the duo is immediately being adorable on this station together

- Herick is so fucking selfish oh my god. Yes dude, you've just experienced a devestative, life altering loss, but to take out not only the team, but 1,000 lives stored in the device???? Why is your first instinct to force your grief onto those around you, that's fucking evil

- only way to soothe Ronon, promise you'll fight him to the death

- Rodney is such a badass man

- MAJOR LORNE, LET'S GOOOOO

- Teyla, please, I know it feels bad, but please just lie to him, you know what desperate people are capable of

- ok I'm finally finishing this episode like the next day, I am ill so if my typings make no sense, ignore that

- see, now how tf does Sheppard know what to do with those controls or what any of them mean in the slightest

- YIKES, hitting the ground

- Sunday, OH NO

- poor Teyla, she just wanted to have a nice day off with her friend

- ew, I hate that they bring up random ass love interests for Weir and Teyla. At least put some effort in instead of some random side plot of one episode

- CARSON 😭

- record breaking space trout XD

- casual lgbt acceptance, I love it

- Rodney being sassy, grumpy dad when people do something dumb because he cares, love it

- AHHHHHH NOOOOO I’M NOT READY

- I LOVE that Lorne paints, SO MUCH

- 😭

- oh god, Rodney blaming himself, my heaaaartttt

- I’m getting flashbacks to Janet’s funeral oh no

- Rodney looking to Sheppard, AHHH

- Submersion, wait I thought this took place when Teyla was pregnant? OH WAIT, no that’s when she takes over the queen on the hive ship nvm nvm

- Sheppard’s little “sorry” is so cute

- with that Wraith swimming underwater, my mind immediately jumps to a wraith siren creature, ik the iratus bugs hate water but still, if a group evolved on an ocean planet...

- poor Teyla dude, the guilt she's feeling rn, OOF

- also Greydon finding out there really is a Greyson is hilarious, poor guy

- "I missed" PFFFFT

- Vengeance, oh shiiiiiit, this episode is so freaky

- the look Rodney and Sheppard exchange once they find the cocoon and realize the life sign is probably whatever came out of it, is priceless

- all the bodies is just heartbreaking

- Ronon stop disappearing like a rugged ninja, you're scaring Sheppard

- IT'S SO TERRIFYING I LOVE IT

- oh yes, just stand in the path of the dart, VERY SMART

- THE ROOM FULL OF COCOONS AHHHHH

- I love this episode y'all

- Ronon with his sword, so cool

- Rodney, too much is better than too little when it comes to explosive power in this situation I'd say

- the prodigal experiment Michael returnsssss

- that smile on Ronon's face, I feel like it's a mix of Sheppard's decision upsetting Rodney, and getting to go back and fight the bug creature

- THE DELAYED BLAST PFFFF

- it's interesting how many more human features Michael has this time around, I mean last time he got the wraith teeth back and such and this time his mouth is very human. His nose and skin are also quite human. I wonder why going through the process a second time had that effect and if it could be permanent at some point

- maybe, idk, CLOSE THE HATCH BEHIND YOU

- aight well I guess it wouldn't have helped much but still!

- YESSS SHEPPARD COMING IN CLUTCH LETS GOOOO

- First Strike, gotta love rash thinking

- oof, Rodney and Zelenka's convo is rough. The guilt they must feel making weapons like this when they're not under attack...

- god damn that's a lot of damage

- OH NO IT'S THIS EPISODE

- I know it's basically an ocean planet, but it would've been so cool to see the effect that beam would've had on ground

- ahhhhh! I love the Weir and Teyla confidant moments so muchhhh

- YOU TELL HIM RODNEY

- the sinking scene is so cooooooooool

- the fantastic 4 convo help XD

- also, Ronon feeling left out because he can't help and doesn't know science 😭

- the gay boys immediately reading each others thoughts

- LORNE

- the chair spinning is still such an odd detail in my opinion

- OH NO HERE IT COMES

- CRAP

- Rodney's voice oh my god 😭

Season 4

[divine-knight-hand]

AAAAAAAH! OH ME OH MY!

I was already having a bit of Halloween hangover when I remembered that I still had some Kinktober fics waiting in my tbr. Where do I start with this one?

Well, first, I have to say that I love, love, looooove the concept of Horrorland. The whole event is so freaking cool! I definitely feel the Halloween amusement park vibes. And the ride announcer dialogue got me so hyped up for the fic! 😆

Now to talk about the fic itself~

I never knew I needed a man who unconditionally supported me while I slaughtered and ate other men until this moment. Hehehe! Look at our supportive king go! 🤭

Together on the dance floor, Michael kept caressing your waist as you kept moving your body on his. He cupped your face, lips meeting together and something like fire and passion ignited within your ribs, urging each other to deepen the kiss.

I loved this whole scene because the sexual tension is so UGH! Damn that singer for interrupting it! 😩

“Ugh, fine... When I saw your, uh— tentacles… I just thought about, you know— if you could tie me up with them?”

The way I was immediately like, "He's such a whore... I love him!" 🥺💕

There was just something so beautiful about a man pleading to you if he could cum inside you; something so irresistible about hearing the urgency with which he begs for permission.

I AGREE! I AGREE! OMG I AGREE WITH LIKE EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING! YES! YES! YES! Thank you for putting it into words. 😆

His eyes glittered like he was smitten, madly in love, the same expression he always makes every morning when you wake up.

Sigh. Pretty boys with their pretty eyes... 🥺

“Yeah… but if we were to shower together right now, you know damn well we’re gonna go for round two. Maybe three, four, or five…”

I absolutely giggled like a horny little gremblin when I read this. >:)

Overall, this was beautifully done. I had to take out my headphones to fully immerse myself, but then I was hooked from beginning to end! Thank you for writing this absolute masterpiece. It was an amazing read!

𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐔𝐒! ⌇MICHAEL AFTON

succubus!reader x michael afton || WC: 5,413

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. ever since michael found you as a succubus, he’s never been so in love. you usually feed off humans, but with michael’s sexual energy keeping you alive, you never ate anyone in years. that is, until, halloween night occurs…

𖤐 WARNINGS. established relationship, university au, halloween setting, malewife himbo bf/girlboss demon gf dynamic, revenge, murder, flesh eating, gore, blood mentions, tentacle bondage, msub!michael.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] This is a high speed roller coaster with sudden stops and drops! All riders must store loose items inside of a locker. This ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and content warnings posted. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

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Is it possible to fall in love with a woman after they had just murdered someone?

For Michael Afton, the answer is yes.

Months ago during the beginning of the semester, Michael wasn’t always great at making friends. Even though this was university, it felt like high school again, where he remained an outcast and was reluctant to be involved with the student body, college clubs, or majority of big events like football games. He was academically focused; the typical nerdy student majoring in engineering. Always studying by himself in the library and sometimes tutoring other students so he could earn some money on the side. Back then he realized that having friends or even being in a relationship was the least of his priorities.

But it wasn’t until he first laid his eyes on you.

You were so beautiful. Also an inquisitive, scholarly student with good grades, staying on top of your classes, and involved with many extra curriculars. As badly as he wanted to talk to you, he viewed you as way out of his league. Always keeping in touch with your friend groups on campus and focusing on the clubs and committees you joined. There was never a chance for Michael to even be with you. So to avoid rejection and humiliation, he’d rather keep his crush a little secret, admiring and fantasizing about you from afar.

When October came around and a big Halloween party was taking place, Michael was invited by one of the students he was tutoring. He wasn’t the best at social gatherings and has never been to college parties, but the only reason he came was because you were attending as well. And that the first time he ever drank and slightly withdrew from his comfort zone from the alcohol, talking to people from campus and collecting all the courage to talk to you.

That night, however, you were busy with another man. A man that Michael has never seen before. Spending a lot of time together, dancing, drinking, and always leaving the vicinity together… As much as Michael wanted to admit that he was jealous deep down, he forced himself to move on. He’d always believed that there was no way in Hell that he was going to have a chance with you that time.

“…Hey, has anybody seen Y/N?”

A few hours later into the party the question started floating in the air, suddenly capturing Michael’s attention. The thought of you had completely slipped his mind as he started drinking more throughout the night until you were back to being his main focus. Recalling the last time he’s seen you was with that man he assumed doesn’t attend the university. As he lingered in his thoughts, his skin started crawl.

Suspicion. Piercing curiosity. An urge to look for you and make sure you were safe.

A handful of your friends were looking everywhere in the house for you as Michael decided to investigate outside. Even though he was outside of campus and wasn’t that familiar with the outskirts, he didn’t stop searching until he could find you that night. He searched until the path at his feet faded and lead into the dark woods, the verdant greens diminishing to sullen brown, as if he was entering forbidden territory. But it wasn’t until he noticed red.

A blood trail.

That mystifying Halloween night, right in the heart of the forest where danger and terror lurks, is the first time Michael saw a dead man’s body and his guts hideously torn apart, messy spikes of fresh blood splattered everywhere. The whole scene looked impossible for a rabid animal to even do that. But it wasn’t until he found you, on your knees and sitting on your ankles beside the corpse, blood draped all over your face, chin, and then your naked body.

And when your gaze flickered onto Michael, in your eyes he can sense longing, pining, regret, terror… a tumultuous storm surging in your mind, piercing right through him. He could’ve ran. He could’ve screamed that night. He should’ve been horrified by the scene in the first place. But every fiber of his fell frozen like he was in a surrendering state; placating, patient, consoling. Only for you. A rapport had already formed right there and then, right under the luminous moon…

“Help me, Michael…”

And just as you were about to collapse on the ground, he rushed over to hold your body in his arms, not caring about the dead man or the blood all over his hands and clothes. He only cared about you. A wave of relief may have washed over him, but he was taken over by this strange, formidable urgency to protect you. To be there for you. To cherish you with such powerful tenderness, nurturing you in such a delicate, vulnerable state.

That was the night you and Michael finally bonded. That special Halloween night you found each other. Comprehending the fact that you were a newborn succubus— the deadliest, macabre, and wanton creature to ever exist... Knowing that you eat men, feed off their flesh, and reap on them with sexual dreams and nightmares, suddenly lead him to a mind-blowing discovery…

Michael had fallen in love with you.

In just a year later, you two were official. A perfect boyfriend and girlfriend for each other, basking in a healthy, loving, long-term relationship. With Michael knowing what you’re capable of as a succubus, he never held it against you; especially finding out the dark and twisted origin of how you became a succubus… He still loves you, cherishes you, and will forever stay loyal to you. Dating you because you’re you was just what he wanted ever since the beginning of college. And even though there were various things he has to adapt to in this relationship, he never complained. He would sacrifice anything for you, including his time to skip class just so you two can have sex.

But for a very good reason.

During the first few months of his new relationship, he had to deal with your bloodlust. You would tend to be ravenous, feral, murderous, literally barbaric for man blood and flesh, for that was your only appetite as a newborn. Michael knew what he was getting into, knew that him ending up being killed and eaten by you one day would be inevitable just to keep yourself alive and beautiful. As cautious and wary as ever, he’d keep his distance as he was in desperate search for another way to satisfy your hunger besides murdering anyone. Then finally, he came to the conclusion that a succubus like his girlfriend can also thrive and feed off sexual energy. A perfect solution for your diet without anybody getting hurt and keeping you alive.

Having sex with you everyday and night didn’t even feel like a strict routine or sex ritual. Michael had you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even dessert. Nothing about this felt like a necessity just to keep you around forever; he really wanted to satisfy you deep down as long as you consented. And as the months passed by, perhaps deep down he was also a freaky sex demon that takes pleasure in pleasuring his beautiful girlfriend. A man possessed and bewitched by your ethereal presence, he’d make you feel various levels of pleasure and pain as he explores the regions of your body that you never knew existed— finding your weaknesses, turning them into his strengths, and then seducing you with them...

As goes for you, who trained yourself to only feed off the insatiable, wanton lust you have for Michael. You always find a human man like him weaving into your brain, coursing through your veins like you were downing a drug. Every second you see each other at school, your hearts pound as hard as the bed you shared in your new apartment rattles, feasting upon your lusts as if there were no more morrows. Michael had undying, blooming love for you— and you wallowed in his love like draping a warm blanket over you during cold Winter nights.

Halloween was right around the corner again. It was soon to be your one year anniversary, and though Michael had many, many plans on celebrating with you, one of them was going to this huge Halloween party just thirty minutes away from campus. But it wasn’t just some ordinary house party with spooky Halloween decor lazily thrown around and bowls of fruit punch and alcohol scattered on a kitchen island— this was a hardcore Halloween party with over 300 guests attending. Way more people, way more alcohol, and way more attractions than just music to dance to— there were rumors of a famous live band performing, people hosting escape rooms, haunted houses, and other cool horror-related shit that Michael couldn’t wait to experience with you.

It was an hour before the party. The two of you were at your apartment getting your costumes ready, since Halloween costumes were part of the dress code for this party. If you weren’t dressed, you weren’t allowed in.

“Are you… Jason Voorhees?” you marveled, passing by Michael standing in front of the body mirror putting on the iconic hockey mask.

Michael chuckled. “Yeah. Since we had a Friday the 13th this year... I just found this at Spirit Halloween and decided why not. What are you gonna be, hm?”

“Well, it’s a little basic…” You did some cute poses in front of the mirror in your costume; a cropped white puffer jacket with faux fur on the edges of your hood, a denim skirt, red laced stockings, and then fake blood splattered all over. “It was also last minute, so I just threw on some stuff to look like Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body.”

“Basic? You look beautiful,” he complimented as he stared at your reflection in the mirror, turning around to hold your waist. “The costume is also ironic. I love that. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let’s go before parking gets full.”

The thirty minute drive at night wasn’t that bad. You and Michael’s adrenaline started to rush in when luminous rays of colorful lights and fog were seen from a far distance behind the shadowy trees. There were so, so many people that Michael couldn’t even recognize. Some weren’t even students that attended the university. You were surfing through the crowd with him never letting go of your hand, everybody around dancing outdoors as the excitement buzzes around in this rave-like party. Spectrums within the bass-boosted music, the sound waves pulsing in your heart. In the air, you could immediately take in strong various drugs and alcohol invading your senses. You could hear the rustle of costumes, glasses clinking, people talking and laughing, and feel the whimsical energy flowing around.

You and Michael decided to drink and dance together, the dizzying lights and alcohol making you fall through space and only take in his face. As the ecstasy flowed in your bloodstream beyond all measure like a storm of electric emotion, your pupils dilating as you were filled with this hazy sweetness-like sensation. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you always felt this way for your own boyfriend; becoming a victim to your own deadly, rapacious desire, enlaved to the rhythm of such unquenchable fire.

Together on the dance floor, Michael kept caressing your waist as you kept moving your body on his. He cupped your face, lips meeting together and something like fire and passion ignited within your ribs, urging each other to deepen the kiss. As if the alcohol couldn’t intoxicate you more, Michael was all that you needed in your hazy, drunken world. You needed him more than ever. You wanted to sneak off and find some place private for the both of you. God, you were feeling so needy for him deep down that Michael already knew…

"…Thank you for having us tonight. It's so good to be here with y'all!" somebody exulted into the microphone on the stage nearby. "I hope y'all enjoy and have a happy fuckin' Halloween!"

The elated crowd cheers again as the drummer counts off with the sticks and the electric guitar riffs take over your ears. For some odd reason, the man’s voice that started singing sounded vaguely familiar to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a part of you that recognizes a voice like that…

With the heated moment between you and Michael now disrupted by the band performing, you both turn your heads towards the stage where the crowd started to increase. Still holding each other’s hands, your eyes weaved through the back of people’s heads and tried to see who was performing. The electronic punk riffs sounded incredibly vibrant, thrilling everybody in the rave. Dark red spotlights, increased fog from the machines, and the clashing of the drums and other electric instruments overpowering your ears… Even the music sounded familiar to you— this was a genre that you used to listen to, after all.

“Do you wanna stay and watch?” you hear Michael yell out, clutching your hand tighter.

Somehow the question flew over your head as if you were distracted and overstimulated at the same time. As if you were drawn into the hypnotizing performance, there was an odd feeling of curiosity weighing down on your shoulders. The set up, the music, the energy, the singer’s voice… was it deja vu? You were slightly emerged, as if you unadjusted from this atmosphere, and the more Michael studied your curiosity, the more he became concerned.

When the silhouettes of tall heads blocking your view parted for a few minutes, you could finally see the singer. And the moment you scrutinized his appearance, it felt as if the world around you slowed down.

His face heightened every nerve of your body, as if you were just electrocuted by the most hazardous downed powerline. You were in utter bewilderment and horror of everything that you took in, numerous daunting flashbacks running in your head. You held your breath as you relived a traumatic memory from last Halloween; the night you were reborn as a succubus… You had no idea if these were your memories— Hell, it felt like a past life regression coursing every fiber of your being. But for the first time in a long time, terror and fright seized you completely.

“That— that singer…” you drawled, eyes widening every second in horror.

Michael furrowed his brows from not being able to hear you, leaning his ear closer to you. “Wait, what?”

You remembered. You remembered everything.

That last night of your perfect life where everything felt so surreal— being noticed by your long admired idol. A diabolical, sinister plan disguised as an innocent groupie love, where you were betrayed, drugged, kidnapped, and murdered.

The fire. The alcohol. The party. The groupie sex.

His words. His threats. His intentions. His greedy thirst for fame.

The night where he cut out your heart and sacrificed you to the devil. The night when you woke up hours later with a repulsive thirst for flesh on your tongue. The night you were reborn as a succubus, killing the first innocent man you ever saw who was just camping alone in the woods…

It was him. It was really him.

With your eyes welling with tears, your mind started to scream at you. You wanted revenge. You wanted to fucking kill him. Your anger and surging vengeance ignited a dangerous flame taking over you like a goddamn baptism. Your mind turns darker than black as every painful memory rips through you. This was the night he will finally die— and you didn’t give a fucking damn about how many witnesses there will be for his death.

“Babe? Are you—“

Letting go of Michael’s hand before he could comprehend it, you were already out of the crowd and lurking in the shadows with your enhanced speed. Part of you wanted to make that man’s death public. But part of you wanted to take things the old fashioned way, luring him backstage and devouring his soul right back into Hell where he belonged.

But your insatiable lust for flesh and blood mixed with your rage had you impatient and ravenous. It’s been so, so long since you’ve ate a man. And for a valid reason, you were hysterical and feverish to finally eat one on Halloween again. Make that man die a slow, painful, agonizing death as you tie him up in the woods and tear apart each and every one of his organs and guts. You were back to your old roots of being a vicious, wild succubus who lacks control of your hunger.

Michael had to weave through the crowd desperately looking everywhere for you, sometimes pushing other people and mistaking some as you by accident because of your costume. When the song was finally over and he could see entire stage clearly, the band was making their way off and the crowd finally became loose again. He still couldn’t find you anywhere. He started panicking, making his way inside the estate to search.

Inside the estate, there was a private dressing room for the band where they kept their instruments and other possessions. You were there, waiting by the locked door, hearing the men laughing and conversing with each other. But the lead singer’s voice reverberating in the room sounded like nails to a chalkboard to you, your blood boiling every time he chuckles and gets all excited about bullshit. That man doesn’t get to laugh. He doesn’t deserve this kind of talent. You kept fantasizing about ripping out his voice box with your own bare hands, clawing at his throat like a goddamn vice.

Blending with the shadows to taunt them, you find your way inside and locked the door. The men were behind a huge curtain where they couldn’t see you, still laughing and drinking together. Such fickle souls, perfect to be tormented alone in a dismal night like this. As much as you wanted the lead singer gone, you couldn’t help but take predatory thrill in agonizing the rest of the men that was soon to face the worse demise. Maybe they weren’t all that innocent, either. They could add in to the main course for the night.

You decided to do this the old fashioned way, stripping off your puffer jacket, crop top, skirt, stockings, and shoes. You wanted to feel their splattering crimson blood all over your bare skin. Wearing nothing but a matching bra and panty set, you stayed behind the curtain and cleared your throat.

“Excuse me? Can you gentlemen help me with something, please?”

All of them suddenly stop talking at the sound of your coaxing, provocative, coy voice behind the curtain. You sauntered your way towards them, all of them holding their breaths in star struck silence, admiring your devilish beauty and stunning body. All doe-eyed, slothful, yearning, making eye contact with all five males. That glimmer in your eyes that makes a man lose his mind like your boyfriend…

“Woah. Didn’t know we got a groupie for tonight,” one of the men chuckled, their disgusting eyes that deserves to be gouged out staring at you from head to toe.

“How can we help you, miss?” said the lead singer, your nose involuntarily flaring in furtive anger at him.

“Well… if you wanna come behind the curtains here, I have something I’d like to show all of you. A gift from your biggest fan.”

The dumb men easily fell into your trap, following you behind the curtain only for them to realize you disappeared. Eyebrows furrowing, some baffled by where the hell you just went. But you were hanging right above on the high ceiling, like a predatory creature on all fours, using your succubus powers to fuck with the lights and make them flicker until they’re in the dark.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Why’s the door locked? I can’t fucking open it!”

“Goddamnit. We’re stuck in here! Where the hell is that bitch?”

It’s been so long since you’ve utilized your tentacles. With a disturbing screech and growl, your wings that you finally let free transfigured into slimy tentacles that snatched the men and threw them across the room one by one, leaving the lead singer alone on purpose. You grinned widely from hearing them scream, curse, and panic in a room where no one could find them nor hear them. Your tentacles shove right into their mouths, silencing them forever until you were ready to eat them for later. And when you left the singer in prolonged, tense silence, you can feel the rapid, erratic beating of his heart that was soon to be gone…

“I went through Hell and came back… to finally kill you.”

For the past ten minutes, you weren’t answering your phone. Michael searched most of the estate, underestimating how big and maze-like the structure of the place was that he literally got lost. But when he was passing by a group of girls coming from the restroom, he overheard a conversation that immediately caught his attention.

“…yeah, but I was a little shy to go inside the dressing room. Flirt With Death always has groupies in there fucking or something…”

It all finally registered in Michael’s brain. Why you suddenly ran away, why you’re nowhere to be found. He was disappointed in himself for not realizing earlier, not even recognizing the band playing that was right in front of his eyes. He decided to turn into another narrow hallway where there were few people, running through each room with panic as he was still looking for you. When he found a dressing room that was apparently locked, he looked for any objects or furniture nearby that could barge open the door.

Don’t fucking tell me you did it, Y/N…

He grabbed a heavy chair, smashing it several times on the door knob to break it. He knew that he was damaging property, but he did not give a shit. The party was loud enough to block the banging sounds. Nobody was around, there were not even any cameras that he could detect in the ceiling. But he kept jamming and jamming the knob until it finally broke off, hastily shoving the door open. And the moment he noticed the room was dark and quiet, he immediately knew.

“And If I ever find the people that did this to me, I want to kill them...” He recalled your words from a year ago when you told him the truth. “And you can’t stop me, Michael. They deserve to rot in Hell for this...”

You actually fucking did it.

When Michael switched on the lights, the entire dressing room was a wretched mess covered in blood. On the walls, on the floor, some splattered onto the ceiling… It was the scene of a fucking massacre. As if a giant bucket of blood spilled and flooded the entire place. He held his breath and his eyes widened in horror, scanning the corpses with all their guts and organs hideously torn apart and some spilling out, laying in a pool of fresh crimson blood.

His gaze slowly drifted to you in the middle of the room— your wings were spread, your eyes were a different color, and your half-naked body was completely draped in fresh blood. You were feeding on the man that you told him about, the man you’ve been wanting to kill for the longest; plunging to the depths of his rufescent flesh.

“…Babe?” Michael uttered, ever so slowly and cautiously ambling closer to you. You hissed at him and bared your fangs, immediately halting a few feet away from you in underlying fear.

You took a few moments to recognize Michael’s face, trying so hard to fight the urge of accidentally eating him as well. You were slowly coming down from your frenzied, blood lust state, your sharpened eyes scanning the bloody room. The band that became famous from the lead singer selling his soul is now dead. His diabolic soul finally rotting in Hell where he belongs…

Michael inched closer, watching the way your eyes turn back to its normal color and your wings closing. “Come. Let’s go home,” your loving boyfriend insisted, holding out his hand. “I’ll wash you up and then I’ll order us something to eat.”

Holding onto him and letting him cover you up with his jacket and his arm around you, it felt as if the raging and feral tides of your soul were finally at rest. His love for you was like floating in a warm pool of warm honey and velvet; you enthralled in this beautiful rhythm of sensations that fill your energies. Leaning over to give you a gentle, reassuring kiss that was so soft, so plush, a reminder that you belong to each other forever and nothing else in this world matters.

Because when you got home that night, Michael completely forgot about washing you up and instead pressed you against the door just to kiss you. Your lungs filling with wicked lust, bodies melting together like caramel as your needy desires take over. Not even waiting a fraction of a second to settle down at home, he couldn’t fucking wait any longer. And you couldn’t either…

“Mm— Michael,” you sighed out. “I thought you were… we were gonna…”

“Shh, shh. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. But… after seeing you tonight like that, I— I feel like something awakened in me, or… fuck, I just want you right now…”

You chuckled. “Awakened something in you?”

As much as Michael wanted to admit it, he was ashamed. “Nah, forget it. C’mon, let’s shower together.”

“Uh-uh. I’m not gonna go until you tell me.”

Michael had to mentally prepare before cringing at his own words. Recollecting himself and trying not to make things awkward, he pursed his lips and finally confessed. “Ugh, fine... When I saw your, uh— tentacles… I just thought about, you know— if you could tie me up with them?”

Never in your years of living as a succubus had a filthy, raunchy idea like this ever cross your mind. But were you opposed to it? Deep down, you were turned on by it. Tying Michael to one of your dining chairs, his wrists bound behind him as you straddled on top and teased him with your tentacles. As you kept kissing him and grinding on his thigh, one of your tentacles were wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it simultaneously that his precum was already leaking. Hearing his cute moans and whimpers gradually get louder, struggling to kiss back or try to touch you when he forgot he was tied up… you were so turned on that you kept struggling to kiss back as well.

He will never stop recalling the time when he first saw you in your succubus form, the time when something shifted within him. Not only was he turned on by your hot physical appearance as a maneating demon, but by your feral, wild, vicious behavior of ripping apart men and eating them greedily. He felt inclined to obey you, and only you; like holding him captive and chaining him up tight in the dark, making him quiver and gasp for every unobtainable breath of air. Ruin him, hurt him, mark him, corrupt him, just fucking use him for your pleasure…

As you kept riding him and stroking him, the tip of your noses press against each other in the heat of the moment. His jaw was slackened and his brows were furrowed from the white-hot waves of sensation coursing in his body.

“Fuck, Y/N— you’re so… God, I love you. I fucking love you.”

“I love you, too,” you cooed sweetly in his ear, hearing him respond with a slutty groan when you increased the pace. He involuntarily bucks his hips into the grip of your slimy tentacles, throwing his head back and clenching his fists tighter.

“I’m not gonna last, babe. I’m not gonna last— I need you to ride me, please. Please sit on my dick. I’m begging you, Y/N— God, I need to cum inside you…”

Michael's pleads were so adorable to you, it would be absolutely ruthless to deny his orgasm like that. There was just something so beautiful about a man pleading to you if he could cum inside you; something so irresistible about hearing the urgency with which he begs for permission.

“Aw, look at you. So fucking needy for me,” you teased as the tentacle stroking his aching cock slipped away. “Once you come, I’m not gonna stop riding you... You have to fucking take it.”

After hearing your words, Michael felt like he was gonna fucking explode. He was shattered. His stomach was tied up in knots the moment you planted yourself on his cock with all your weight, throwing his head back in such euphoria. His face flushed red as he watched you ride him, his cock disappearing into your pussy like magic and then reappearing much more wet and slick. He wanted to fucking touch you so bad. He wanted to adjust himself so he could thrust up into you and slap your ass like he’d always do. But with you in complete control over him, he was in a fucking bliss— his orgasm was building up already without a warning.

“Fuck, fuck… I’m so close, Y/N.”

Dizzy with desire, you felt as if you were getting closer as well as you kept riding on his dick. You can feel himself throbbing as he could feel you pulsing around him. Your fingernails were digging onto his skin, drawing your mouth closer to his and kissing him while parting away just to moan pathetically. Your thighs started to twitch, and your body thundered with tension and neediness. Every goddamn thrust and movement of your hips had you seeing stars. It was hard to pinpoint the differences between your bloodlust frenzy and your sexual frenzy— both of them had your hunger consumed and your body ablaze…

“Oh my God… Keep fucking riding me like that. You enjoy bouncing on my cock like a hot little slut, huh?”

“I’m— I’m the one that’s supposed— supposed to tease you like that, fuck,” you whined out, immediately cut off by him kissing you and humming in your mouth.

“At least I can think straight when I’m fucking you. Whenever you come— ah, fuck— you always go so dumb on my cock.”

“Oh? But you love when I do that. Just keep thinking about… the times you fucked me so hard that, I— I lost my mind…”

“You’re gonna come, Y/N. I can already tell. Fuck, I wish I can fuck up into you right now so I can pound that pretty fucking pussy…”

You tried so hard not to give him the satisfaction so quick, but your body had already betrayed you. Your lips clashed with his in urgency as too many sensations hit you all at once. As you kept bouncing your ass on him, the sounds of sticky skin clapping together slowed down as you felt that erratic pounding in your pussy and the feeling of Michael’s cum shooting inside you and pooling down onto the base of his dick. His forehead falls onto yours, shutting his eyes as you both sat there for a few minutes collecting your breaths. You let the tentacles release him so he could finally hold you and run his hands all over you, keep you in place just so you could cockwarm him.

Your softened eyes meet with his, prompting you to smile at how cute he looks. His eyes glittered like he was smitten, madly in love, the same expression he always makes every morning when you wake up. After a couple of ardent kisses, the two of you just didn’t feel like moving yet.

“So. I hope you enjoyed our anniversary so far,” Michael chuckled. “Especially after you finally got your revenge. That was fucking badass.”

You mirrored his chuckle, smirking in amusement as you kept replaying the scenes in your head of murdering the men. “You still haven’t cleaned me up yet, you know.”

“Yeah… but if we were to shower together right now, you know damn well we’re gonna go for round two. Maybe three, four, or five…”

“Then what are we waiting for…?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. The nearest exit will be on your left. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by rin237 on instagram ♥︎

obviously inspired by Jennifer’s Body (2009.) if you read my previous fic “ flirt with death “ this is the sequel.

𖤐 TAGS. @aft0nsimp @crysugu @rinshoe @kimekioo @porcelain_clown @willsdollface @zippertwat @strawstfu @maddietries @yourfavoriteobnoxiousomnisexual @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @bru1sedclavicle @hehehehesthings @dvafoxxystrashcan @dorkfilmz

[ingravinoveritas]

redundant-angel replied to your post “Completely agreed. I don’t hate anyone who ships...”

Thank you. I am not really in the fandom but I think Dani/Malcolm is the most stale and forced ship possible. They have no chemistry, nothing in common, and the character of Dani is as dry as a piece of toast. Even the dream Malcolm had of them as a couple was boring. Give me Malcolm/Edrisa any day over Brightwell.

I think you’ve hit the nail right on the head here, and I agree with all of your comments (though I am more or less neutral on Malcolm/Edrisa). But I love your description of Dani as “dry as a piece of toast,” because that is completely accurate. I don’t know if it’s the actress or merely the writing (my friend @daziechane said in a reblog of my other post that the women on this show need better writers, and I’m inclined to agree), but that chemistry between Dani and Malcolm is definitely lacking.

Also, if Dani is a dry character, then by contrast both Martin and his thicc ass are what I’d call “juicy.” Martin has oodles of chemistry with nearly every person he comes into contact with on screen, to where you could ship him with any number of characters. Jessica, Dr. Vivian...hell, a few episodes back all Martin did was call Gill “Gilly,” and I was like YES, I NOW SHIP MARTIN/GIL, GIVE ME ALL THE DUELING DADDY FICS PLEASE.

Anyway, yes, I am totally with you on Brightwell, and the other comments you made about how suddenly it seems to have been pushed forward, and the resultant feeling of a lack of inspiration about the pairing. (Also I am down with Malcolm/Edrisa if she gets to finally Domme him, because I think he would actually benefit from that...)

[fckinsupreme]

maybe one story about michael being jealous and obsessed with her?

Some fire & reign daddy for you!!

———————-

Michael was a man of few interests, and the beautiful woman that worked for the two jokers he was consulting with had been one. The moment he saw Y/N, with her short skirt, her white button up top, her thigh highs & heels, her hair done in a way that made her facial features pop, he knew that he was done for. It was instant obsession—not love, for he did not believe himself capable of it, but an infatuation so intense that it nearly brought him to his knees. But there was one big problem, and it was one that Michael should have seen coming, but once which he still could not have anticipated at the same time.

There was another man who worked at Kineros, one that Michael barely associated with, but one that Y/N had liked very much. It wasn’t enough that he was armed with this knowledge through Mutt & Jeff’s interactions with each other, but also the fact that Michael had to watch Y/N and that asshole flirt with each other every single fucking day. The way she touched him, her smile, the seduction in her gaze, the way her chest puffed out, the way he moved closer to her, the way they whispered in each other’s ear, her laughter…all of it. It drove him up the fucking wall, and the jealousy nearly ate him alive. He knew damn well he could easily take care of it by ripping the bastard’s spine right out, but what would that solve? Y/N would hate him, and he would never get to experience what it was like to have her, to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her, to be inside of her…

No, it was too much of a risk. One that he was not willing to take.

Michael would always conveniently turn up everywhere she seemed to be—the copy room, work room, the lobby, the cafeteria. It was all a matter of knowing her schedule, something he had memorized like clockwork every single day. He knew exactly when she had a meeting, or a lunch date, or when Mutt & Jeff needed her for something. He was always there, hoping to get a glimpse of her. Glimpses and “accidental” encounters were well & good for a little while, but then the day came where it was no longer enough. He had to have her, before it drove him absolutely insane. He had to know what it was she felt, or how she tasted, or how her body would feel pressed against his.

It was time for action.

He found her alone in the copy room one afternoon, humming to herself as she made a series of copies at the machine. She was startled by his sudden appearance, having not heard him enter the room, and placed a hand to her chest as she giggled in relief. He was delighted to see that she was cornered now; he stood between her & the exit, and there was no way she could get out without getting past him. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and he would not let it be fleeting. Besides that, he knew that there would be no issue in making her stay; he could sense she didn’t want that to happen. The smell of her arousal—thick, sweet, pounding, irresistible—was hanging like a veil between them, and he could sense how badly she wanted him. Whether she would admit it or not, he already knew.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice like velvet as he surveys her hungrily. “How convenient that I would find you here.”

“Just like how it was convenient that you found me everywhere else?” she quips, her head tilted to the side as her eyes narrow. “It’s funny how you turn up everywhere that I go, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Michael says thoughtfully, closing his eyes as he thinks it over for a moment. “Or perhaps I’m just following your scent.”

“My what?” she asks, looking at him in confusion. “What are you, a dog?”

“No,” he drawls, his fingers brushing down her forearm. She recoils out of surprise, but allows him to touch her again when he makes another attempt. “I can tell how attracted you are to me. You may call it a sixth sense, or perhaps a superpower. Whatever it is you want to believe, I can tell how much you want me. I can /smell/ it, Y/N, so don’t try to lie to me. It will end very badly for you if you try it.”

She laughs wildly, her brows knitting. “Is that what you think this is? You think I want to hop on your dick, and what, exactly?”

“Whatever it is you fantasize about doing with me, I suppose,” he says. “That isn’t my business to know; I just know that you lust for me.”

“I do n—“ she begins.

“I own you,” Michael says, backing her against the wall as her eyes widen. “Whether you know it or not, you are /mine/.”

“Excuse me?” she says, her brow raised as an expression of fury crosses over her features. “What did you just say?”

“I think you heard me quite well,” Michael says, pressing her further against the wall. “I said that you are mine.”

“You’re delusional,” she spits, and Michael is taken aback by her bold remark. “If you truly think—“

“I /know/ that you are,” he hisses, his hand coming up to close around her throat. He brings his face mere inches from hers, and he can feel her pulse quickening under his touch. Fear, possibly, but Michael knew better; she was aroused, the desire for him coursing through her veins as she tried to remain as cool, calm, and collected as possible. “Don’t deny what I already know. It won’t end well for you, and it’s just more work for me. I don’t think either of us want any of that, do you?”

She is silent, save for a few shuddering breaths that fall from her lips. Finally, she speaks. “You’re wrong.”

“You are bold to question me,” he says, his grip tightening on her throat as she gasps slightly. “Especially knowing who I am and what I am capable of.”

She opens her mouth to reply, no doubt some off-the-wall, snarky remark. But instead, she just says: “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I know enough,” Michael says, bringing his lips to hers and barely ghosting them. He hears her whine, a sound that is barely audible, but there all the same. “I know that you want me.”

She is quiet for so long—so much, in fact, that Michael wonders if he could have accidentally killed her. But then she moves, and her eyes are fixated upon his. “Let’s just say you’re right.”

“I know I am,” Michael says smugly.

“Fine, you’re right,” she says impatiently. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Michael says with a smirk, running a finger between the cleavage exposed by her button-up top. “All you have to do is give in.”

She is no longer hesitant, nor is she in denial or putting up a fight. Her fingers lace through his curls, drawing him closer in a hot, passionate kiss. Michael groans against her lips, and the taste of her is so much better than the fantasy. Of course, he already knew that she was going to be an excellent kisser, and taste sweeter than cream; it was a sixth sense he seemed to have. He grabs her by the hips, pulling her tight against his own as she moans against his mouth.

“That worthless sack of shit you call a boyfriend is not worthy of you,” he breathes as he kisses her neck, making sure to leave behind a series of purple marks in his wake. “You know it, and I know it.”

“Is that what all of this is about?” she asks, her eyes closing as he bites just below her pulse point. “Mmm…You’re jealous of him, aren’t you?”

“So what if I am?” Michael asks, ripping her blouse open as buttons fly & scatter through the room.

“It’s kinda hot, that’s all,” she says with a shrug, but says no more as he leaves bruising kisses all over her breasts. “Fuck…”

Michael comes back to her lips, and kisses her heavily. They make out for awhile, hands wandering, gasps and small moans filling the air, fingers tugging at her hair and clothing. Michael eventually pushes her onto one of the tables, and sinks between her legs in a slow, almost catlike manner. He hikes up her skirt, kissing over her inner thighs as he grins up at her.

“How badly do you want me?” Michael asks her, his tone almost taunting as he bites her inner thigh. She gasps, and he smirks against her smooth skin. “You have to tell me.”

“So fucking badly,” comes her reply, so breathless and desperate that Michael has to bite back a wide grin. “I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

“Good,” Michael says, tugging her thong off and tucking it into his back pocket before pointing toward some of the cameras in the corners of the room.

“What?” she asks, pushing herself onto her elbows to look at what he is pointing to.

“Smile for your bosses, sweetheart,” he says, beginning to devour her cunt as she moans filthily. “They’re watching us right now, so let’s make it worth their time.”

——-

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @wroteclassicaly @dark-mei-rose @melodylangdon @xavierplymptons @bloodcoatedeclipse @bitchchatter @welcometothelioncage @angelicmichael @lovelylangdonx

[aziraphales-library]

do you know any fics where Aziraphale justifies (either to himself or to other angels) his relationship/friendship/love with Crowley as "Loving everyone of God's creations" and especially "do you know of a being more in need of love than a demon?" or something along those lines?

Here are some fics in which Aziraphale does some mental gymnastics regarding his feelings for Crowley...

You were an Angel Once by cyankelpie (T)

In the photo, Crowley lounged across the corner of a park bench while Aziraphale sat on the other side, his mouth open in a laugh at something that Crowley had said. All the blood drained from Aziraphale’s face. “I-I can explain.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” said Michael sweetly. “I’m sure I already understand.”

With a great effort, Aziraphale tore his eyes from the photo and looked up at her.

“Truly admirable,” she continued, “to try saving the soul of a demon.”

(Aziraphale has two years to save Crowley's soul and convert him back into an angel. If he fails, he will be ordered to kill Crowley with holy water.)

One Night of Honesty by cyankelpie (T)

Crowley should not be in the bookshop right now. Heaven has stripped Aziraphale of the ability to lie, and he's gotten himself so drunk that he's completely incapable of holding back the truth. It's the perfect storm of circumstances for him to accidentally let slip something that he can never take back, and he would never forgive Crowley if he let that happen.

So why did Aziraphale start drinking in the first place, and why is he so adamant that Crowley stay?

Transference by iamtheenemy (M)

There was always a low level hum of attraction and lust in the air when Crowley was around. In fact, Aziraphale couldn’t recall a single time, after their first meeting on the wall, when he hadn’t watched Crowley dazzle and transfix every poor human that they encountered. He’d even seen Eve give him the eye when he was in his human form, back in the day, and she’d been with child at the time.

Aziraphale couldn’t blame them for falling victim to Crowley’s considerable wiles. He was a demon, after all. Tempting was in the job description. Plus, he’d clearly designed his human form to be utterly irresistible to all humans, from his eye-catching hair down to his stylish clothing. It was overkill, if you asked Aziraphale. But then, he supposed, overkill wasn’t really a thing with demons.

Aziraphale would win a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics.

Technicalities by curtaincall (M)

Aziraphale is always very careful with his wording. Crowley's never really been in a position to question it.

The Damned by LadyMango (M)

Demons were captured by angels during the Fall, and have been kept as servants ever since.

Aziraphale, feeling lonely, decides to purchase a demon. Naturally, he chooses the most frightened one.

parallax by leaveanote (E)

It’s just to ensure Crowley’s doing it correctly, Aziraphale tells himself at first. To make sure he’s getting the miracles right. But when Aziraphale hides and watches Crowley perform his first miracle since his fall, Aziraphale finds instead that Crowley--oh, he was made for this. The love that brims from him when he is allowed at last to heal, to help, to save. A demon shouldn’t love performing Heaven’s work like this, should he? What else, then, is a lie? (Don’t ask questions.) Aziraphale can’t stop watching, through the centuries. Presently, Crowley catches him, and many, many truths come to light.

- Mod D

[wafflesareluv]

LoA fanfic, takes place after MC becomes junior partner. There's a bit of NSFW content. Enjoy reading!

1.3k words.

Quinn has wanted this for a very long time now. Sitting at the edge of Hoi On's rooftop, gazing at the night sky while holding Gabe Ricci's hand, getting this couldn't have been tougher. But it's really, really worth it. They're official now, their coworkers know about them and being able to be there for Gabe as someone more than a junior partner, receiving the same affection from him has been heartwarming and comforting to say the least. "If I may dare interrupt your chain of thoughts, Michaels?" his deep voice brought her back to the present moment. Gabe wasn't one for nicknames, he never saw the appeal and Quinn rolled along with it. She shook her head and smirked "I dare charge you a penalty for that, Mr Ricci." "And I wonder what it'd be?" he quipped in a suggestive murmur. Her smirk widened as she withdrew herself from his grip "Now, that wouldn't be a penalty for you, Mr... I say you sing our song." He reluctantly pulled out his phone for the karaoke video "Ahh, that song, you'll remember it forever, won't you?" "Of course I will, it's special" she said. Her previous chain of thoughts as Gabe put it, has returned. She thought back to the day Gabe Ricci became her boyfriend. They had been casual until now, several evenings and nights well spent. Even though Gabe said he cared, more than he would like to admit, he hadn't been as forthcoming as she'd like. That's who he is, so Quinn decided it was time to push her luck further. She wasn't sure how to ask him, what if she loses what she has, thinking of what could have been? What if this is too much to ask of him? He didn't exactly have the best experience in relationships, would he be able to take the leap of faith? She knew she was overthinking when her coffee spilled out from the mug in the espresso machine and she didn't notice it right away. "Get a hold on yourself, Quinn! He said you're too irresistible for your own good, he might just say the feelings are mutual.." she thought. Aislinn who was waiting for her turn, laughed "You sure that coffee would suffice? You're practically daydreaming...and lemme guess, about a certain senior partner.." "Aislinn! Keep your voice low!" Quinn sounded alarmed. Aislinn's eyes lit up "So she didn't deny it! He's a catch, but so are you, Quinn. He'd be blind to not see that. You go get him and I'll get my coffee." "How did you know what exactly I was hesitant about?" Quinn couldn't help but wonder. "Anyone who has a keen eye can tell that you are fidgety these days and anyone who knows you, can tell the reason behind it." Aislinn's response made Quinn smile, both of them grew very close in the past few months. She also knows a thing or two about what's happening between Quinn and Gabe. On the way back to their cabins, they saw Gabe taking his briefcase and stepping out into the hallway. Aislinn mouthed the words "Just do it" and slipped into her office. Quinn glanced at him and their eyes met, he shot her a smile. "Going somewhere?" was all she could manage, her mind was racing at the speed of light. "I'm leaving early, utilising my monthly day off. Too much of work lately." There was a pause as he eyed her in the way that would make her shift from one leg to the other, "Care to join me? It's almost time for you to leave anyways." Normally this is where she'd reply wittily but not today. She simply nodded and collected her overcoat, all the way shocked at her own quiet nature. "This is how much you and thinking about you influence me, Gabe Ricci" she wanted to say, instead she walked along side him and got into his car. "Your place is stunning, not as much as you, but stunning nonetheless, good thing you have an old lady with a hearing ailment as a neighbour" his words were distant yet she felt her eyebrows shoot up and her lips quirk into a small smile, he will always have this effect on her. With him, there was never a dull moment. Around him, she'd completely lose herself in him, literally and metaphorically or just look at him and feel content. Either way, he takes over all her attention and she knows

it's the same for him. Yet, his past makes her question if he would be ready to get into a serious relationship. Reaching her apartment, they get inside followed by freshening up. Yeah, Gabe even has a spare set of clothes in her flat and still she's tentative about the thing she's gonna ask him about. She needed to be herself and talk with him, she made a mental note to reduce her overthinking. As if on cue he called out "I see a couple of vegetables and a standard staple of bread, are sandwiches good to go?" "It's always good when you cook, Mr Ricci, one of the many talents your hands have mastered" she grinned as she walked in to the kitchen. "There is the smart mouth I like, you were being uncharacteristically silent" he was tossing the chopped onions into the pan. "So the great Gabe Ricci likes it when I'm not quite huh?" as soon as words left her mouth, his hands were at her sides while he worked his tounge, making her gasp and then moan. "There, did you ever hear those hot moans coming out of that pretty mouth? Who wouldn't like that?" just like that he was back to sauteing the vegetables, as if he wasn't doing anything sinful just seconds ago. Whereas she was still reeling from his assault, "Damn you, Ricci! Always composed and efficient" she cursed at him in her mind. Though she did that, she had to admit, Gabe was unpredictable and she liked that, his touch and the kiss.. they're electric.. the only one way she would describe them- wait, that's it! She walked towards the counter, placing the plates and cutlery, she also put a note which goes like "Before the dinner, your stunning host wants you to see in the balcony, come there as soon as you read this. Xoxo.” As expected, he was walking towards her and it was perfect, she had the fairy lights on. "Listen to the song properly Mr Ricci, that's exactly how I feel about you" was all she said before she played

Electric love by BØRNS. When it ended, she looked him straight in the eye "Gabe, these few weeks have been the closest to what I'd call "perfect" and that's because of you. What we have right now, I like it but I'd also like to cherish every single thing with you and be that someone you'd be with everyday. Now that I've got it, I can't let it go and I want more Gabe. Would you do the honour of being my boyfriend, Gabriel Ricci?" He didn't speak for painstakingly long moments and his face, inscrutable as ever, it gave away nothing. Then at once he closed the distance between them. "No one has caught my eye like you did, Quinn. Everything about you is fascinating, I just want to spend more time with you. So, yes, now might I indulge my girlfriend in a dinner and then drown her in electric love as per her request?" Quinn laughed with all her heart and kissed him languidly on the lips, while she entwined his fingers with hers. And then, on their 100th day as a couple, they're here. Fingers entwined, hearts fulfilled, their song "Baby, your electric looove oooh" playing in the background as they looked at eachother with smiles just like people who're undoubtedly in love.

@lawsofattractionfanfiction

[slashiest-slasher]

How would the slashers act with a s/o that came hone drunk and just wanted to ya know... have some 'fun'?

i’m sorry i wrote most of this months ago while drunk, and finishing it up just now equally as drunk ﾍ(ﾟ∇ﾟﾍ) enjoy!

Michael Myers (1978 'verse)

- When you go out without telling Michael where, he usually worries thinks you're going to rat on him. But you've just worked your way into his hear enough that he's stopped stalking you everywhere you go.

- But when you finally manage to find your way home, he doesn't expect you to fumble with your keys and slam the front door open. He was watching TV when you did, and while Michael doesn't get startled, he did whip his head a bit quicker.

- He just manages to catch sight of you stumbling in, and catching yourself before you faceplant on hardwood floor. "MIKEY~ I'M HOOOOME~" you bellow out and make your way to the couch.

- Oh boy.

- Michael doesn't react when you plop yourself down in his lap, wrap your arms around his neck, and clumsily attempt to press your lips to his mask. Normally, Michael has a rather voracious sexual appetite. But you're sloppy, and uncoordinated and smell like beer. It's disgusting, and Michael is the kind of guy who eats dog carcasses.

- So instead he pushes you down onto the couch, and pulls down the blanket from the back of the couch. Every attempt of yours to climb back on him is met with being pushed back down while he watched TV.

Jason Voorhees

- Jason is in a similar-ish boat where he has just begun trusting you to leave without flipping out and thinking you're running away. So yeah, he isn't a fan when you tell him you're going for a few drinks at the pub in town.

- Yeah, few drinks his fucking ass. You come back 2 hours later than you intended, stumbling out of some guys jeep, and trip just past the entrance of the camp. You just... lay there, in the dirt. If your back wasn't rising and falling, he'd think you were dead.

- He still panics, because he's Jason. What else is he supposed to do other than kill teens? He runs and hauls your body over his shoulder, and back to the cabin. And our boy built like a brick house, jumps when you start groping his ass.

- "Jaaaason, I need you to fuck me, like right now," you slur out when he dumps you on the bed. Yeeeaaahhh, no, not happening. Not now, not ever when you've been drinking. He can hardly tolerate anyone consuming alcohol, and mixing sex in? What would mother think of him?

- One sin at a time, as you always say.

- He still lays in bed with you, because he's tired and it's his bed too! Even if you try getting him to have sex with you, is a Stone Wall, and will not allow anything to happen until you eventually pass out from exhaustion.

NSFW bellow cut, because c'mon, theyre serial killers

Thomas Hewitt

- Drunk people? At his house? Color Thomas shocked (not). Please he lives with Holt, who drinks pretty much every hour of every day. He can scarcely think of a time when he wasn't drunk. But hey, if the two of you were going off to drink and fish (a past-time you forced Holt into liking) then whatever, he has work to do. He'll just wait until you get back to demand your attention.

- When you and Holt manage to pull up in front of the house without crashing the truck into a tree, he's content. Neither of you seem dead, and you also have a cooler full of fish. A refreshing change from human. Holt stumbles to the front door, as per usual, but you're barely hanging off his shoulder, dragging the cooler behind you.

- Oh No. Thomas Is Not Happy.

- He didn't care if you drank, at all. He didn't even care if you got drunk. Everyone, even Luda Mae drank at the house, so it wasn't a problem. But you can barely walk, and pretty wasted people and Holt don't mix. So Thomas sweeps you up to his room as soon as possible.

- Despite being drunk, you're pretty damn strong. Enough so to pull Thomas down on top of yourself when you land on the bed. You get him nice and settled between your legs and pet the back of his head. "Well heelloooo handsome," you murmur. "You here to show me a good time?"

- Thomas, and rightfully so, freezes. You two have barely just gotten to hand holding stage, and now here you are: flushed, disheveled, and practically asking him to fuck you. Thomas breathes heavily behind his mask, and can't help but grind against you. You're too irresistible.

- But he won't go any further than dry humping until both of you are satisfied. Luda Mae, after all, raised a proper southern gentleman (or her version of one at the very least), so having sex when you two aren't married, or when you haven't consented, would be awfully rude of him. But he is Horny, and you are Horny, and what's a little grinding until he cums in his pants?

Freddy Kruger

- You? Drinking? What is this, torture time featuring the hot person who is the only one who Freddy seem unable, or unwilling, to kill? You're killin him, Smalls.

- Seriously, you're hot as hell to Freddy, and since you're alive and not some demon that haunts everyone's nightmares, you can do everything Freddy can't. You can drink, you can fuck, you can eat, and it drive him mad! So when you're getting sloshed, Freddy is getting more riled up. He can only get dream wasted, which is nowhere near the same.

- So he bides his time until you pass the fuck out and end up in dreamland. But lo and behold, you just polished off an entire fifth of whisky by yourself, so you're still trashed. Even while you're asleep and dreaming of yourself getting plowed by Freddy.

- Fucking jackpot. Freddy knew there was a reason he liked you. So he doesn't really do anything at first, just kind of goes invisible and watched while your version of him has got you on your back, legs over his shoulders, and making you moan like some kind of porn star. He'd like to be all up in there, but watching you go at it is kind of hot?

Brahms Heelshire (bc he is MY BOY; also dubcon warning bc the reader is drunk and cant properly consent)

- Okay so Brahms is kind of in the same boat as Jason where he as literally just got around to trusting you to leave without worrying that you were going to abandon him. Except it took a lot longer for him. You are allowed to go out to the pub for TWO HOURS with Malcolm, but that's it.

- (If Brahms wasn't so adverse to leaving the house he would've gone with you so you would've kiss Malcolm)

- But you're an HOUR late, and he's about to start breaking shit until he sees you stumbling up the road to the manor. Singing. LOUDLY. If Brahms wasn't so wound up he'd find it endearing.

- As soon as he throws the door open to yell at you, you pretty much topple on top of him, and try getting his shirt off. "Braaahms, you're sooo hot. What did I do to deserve someone like you?"

- Oh damn.

- Oh damn.

- You hit two of his major turn ons at once. And since Brahmsy is a feral little man with no manners, he just pins you to the floor, gets your pants off, and starts finger banging you right then and then. He wastes no time before shoving himself in. He's gotta take you right here, with the cold wind blowing in.

- Boy is practically shaking from how much you got him riled up in such a short time. He really does try to savor in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, face red, and unable to hide your moans.

- For once, you cum before him, and that's what has him cumming. Your O face is one of the hottest things to him. And you both pass out, just right there in front of the open door. At least when you wake up five hours later, moderately sober and in need of a piss, you manage to herd him upstairs and into bed.

[slasherholic]

A random au idea: Succubus Michael. Thoughts?

bruh a michael who fucks to live sign me tf up. (@carpenter-synth had some ideas about sex-demon michael so these were somewhat inspired by a talk we had one time eheheheh)

● it’s less of a demon-possession sort of deal and more of an inherited thing. he didn’t get bit by something, and he’s not a straight-up demon from the gates of hell, he was just sorta born that way. like how in twilight the ability to shape-shift is genetic gshdshd dont shoot me

● sex-demon-people are extraordinarily attractive, but since michael is already stupidly pretty (hate him) this mikey is externally no diff from regular michael.

● the difference is that his sexual appeal is off the charts to basically everyone he comes in contact with. he exudes this natural irresistible “magnetism” even though he’s fucking vile as shit. maybe it’s some kind of mating hormone turning ur brain stoopid :v

● very aggressive and animalistic during sex. imagine regular michael but with everything dialed up to eleven. bites harder, cuts deeper, chokes longer, fuckin growls. the chances of him accidentally killing you mid-screw increase vastly. when it’s happy pp time, his self-control is reduced to literally zero.

● can nut and keep going. can chain like 5 nuts together before his tank is empty. when he’s got his hands on you he’s very probably gonna be fucking you until everything below your waist is numb and you’re filled to the brim with his cum.

● and he cums god damned rivers lol. this mikey produces like thrice as much semen as your average dude. cleaning up after he’s through with you is terrible. cum as far as the eye can seeeee

● michael needs to fuck. it’s a biological requirement for him to stick u with his pp. he needs at least one fuck a day to maintain his vitality. it won’t outright kill him if he doesn’t meet that number, but he will get weaker and weaker and sicker and sicker the longer he goes without a good hard screw. jacking off won’t cut it; the hormones which give him his strength are only released when he puts it in.

● speaking of strength, post-fuck he’s an absolute monster. jacked to his tits on adrenaline and hormones and extremely aggressive. opposite of regular michael, he’ll be more inclined to go on killing-sprees after fucking, not the other way around.

● sorry but the thought of being able to defeat michael myers by depriving him of pp privileges is god damn hilarious lol

[matildaofoz]

Happy Deathday Pt. 1 (Vampire!Michael x Reader)

Morgan Freeman Voice-Over: "...and while she had had every intention of finishing the chapter, she didn't. Inspiration is a fickle thing and our dear author knew that such things could not be rushed."

A/N: You heard the man. To further heighten the suspense, I decided to post the first part of this for now. The second part will be coming, don't worry but I need more time and maybe another rewatch of AHS...

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Angst, Blood, Mentions of Violence, Alcohol

Word Count: 5.1K

You woke up gingerly, the morning sun peaking through your blinds, tickling your nose as you turned to the other side, in a desperate attempt to continue your slumber. It was your birthday and ever since you had gotten to know Michael Langdon, Vampire extraordinaire, several years ago, birthdays had begun to mark an ever growing sadness. Truth be told, the first two years were spent in a dizzying bliss, unable to quite comprehend how someone as powerful and magnificent as Michael could be enamored with somebody of your...well insignificance. A chance encounter at a gala dinner hosted in the name of some holier-than-thou philanthropist you were sent out by your editor-in-chief to cover, had lead you unwittingly into the arms of the most dangerous being on this planet. That philanthropist turned out to be Michael Langdon.

How he hadn't killed you and drank you dry when he had caught you sneaking into one of the private offices upstairs in the hopes of digging up some dirt, he never revealed. He only said that your brazenness, your fire to find the truth and your unapologetic nature had caught him off guard and so instead of disposing off you as he knew how, he had invited you over for dinner the following weekend. You caught on relatively quickly that there was something otherworldly about the man with hooded icy blue eyes, set in a face so magnificent it was hard to look at him too long. He was irresistible in appearance and character, always a witty remark thrown your way when you tried to pry information from him over a dinner you would never forget. You had needed to satisfy your curiosity and solve the puzzle he presented and Michael needed, no wanted to spend time with someone who didn't eat up his every word out of his plump lips like they were starving for his approval. You did none of that and it made Michael feel almost human to have an adversary of sorts. Your little cat and mouse game culminated in you walking in on him uninvited several weeks later, or so he let you think, while feasting on a recently elected young and energetic politician, straddling her convulsing form on the dining table. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched, teeth sunken into the woman's neck to the bone, as you stood, simply watching with wide eyes. He could see you put the pieces together in that exquisite little brain of yours, lips apart and your heartbeat so deliciously erratic at the scene he had painted just for you. He was rather dramatic, you had to admit.

When you whispered out despite the horror coursing through your veins: “You're a fucking vampire, I knew it!” He groaned, tearing the woman's jugular and coming to sit back on his knees atop the table, the lifeless body of the politician straddled between his thighs, his erection straining painfully against the tight fabric of his black pants. Your gaze on him, indulging the beast he was underneath the angelic appearance, made him harder than he had ever been. Oh he wanted your blood, so sweet, pumping so deliciously beneath your skin but he didn't want to drain you like he had the woman just then who's name he had already forgotten. He wanted you and had for some time now and the urge became overpowering. He grinned at you, blood dripping down his chin, knowing that he had at last found what had been missing from his eternal monotony for so long.

Ever since that night, where Michael had pressed you up against the edge of the dining table after you had solved his little puzzle as he wanted you to - and after very little hesitation on your behalf - had fucked you raw next to the corpse, you had been lost to Michael Langdon in more ways than one. There must have been something very wrong with you to begin with, you often mused in the weeks and months after that fateful encounter but every time Michael's number lit up your phone after a long day in the office and every time he touched your burning skin, made your body sing in a way you never wanted anyone else but him to do, you cared less and less of what the world might think.

Your unholy relationship evolved as the seasons came and went and you came to imagine a life with him, as pathetic as it may sound. You knew that you were painfully mortal and your life was but a brush on the canvas to him. Michael knew, and he did everything to spoil you, taking you on vacations to places you had never dreamed of seeing, showering you in expensive gifts and finery. You always told him that while you appreciated his gifts wholeheartedly, what you ultimately wanted was him, the beast and the man and his unbeating heart constricted as he knew that what you should want, nay deserved was the one thing he could not give you.

The topic of how vampires were created came up last year around your birthday, you remembered, rolling around in your bed, thinking back to the conversation:

“So, if one wanted to create vampires, how exactly would one go about that? Purely journalistic interest,” you questioned feigning innocence, your fingers curling a lock of the blonde vampires hair around your fingers. You were seated across Michael's lap on one of his big plushy velvet red couches in the living room, a silken bed sheet draped across your abdomen, a fire blazing in the firepit on the far side of the room the only illumination. It was rare the two of you got to spend a weekend together and you made the most of it by letting him defile you on every surface in the penthouse at his leisure, not that you complained. You were still aching from round 4 of that evening. His fingers drew lazy patterns over your bare shoulder, a smirk making its way across his kissable lips.

“Purely journalistic, of course” he chuckled reiterating your words, his hand coming to cup your cheek in his large palm, the cool metal of his rings a welcome reprieve against your flushed skin.

“That's nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Michael whispered, lips close to yours, ghosting over the sensitive flesh. The words made your stomach drop. Whenever you vaguely hinted at the process, the possibilty, he tried to steer the attention away from the subject, using your neediness for him against you. Not this time. With a huff, you disentangled yourself from his chiseled form, pulling the sheet up around your bare chest and walking over to the fireplace, watching as the flames licked at the wood logs.

Michael watched you, his mind racing behind his stoic facade. He didn't want you to bring up the delicate topic but not for the reason you thought.

“You know, it's cruel what you do to me,” you whispered.

“Cruel? How am I cruel to you, (Y/N)? Do I not satisfy your every need, every desire?” Michael retorted, his demeanor changing from one second to the next at your words, stinging him deeply. You were the cruel one in that moment, using his heightened emotions against him knowingly and you regretted it as soon as the words passed your lips.

In an instant he was behind you, hands grabbing your hips to whip you around to face him. The tension had been building up over the last weeks and you both knew that sooner or later they would come to explode. A little voice in the back of your heard feared he might just end your life right then and there that you had finally pushed him too far with your incessant prying. He was positively feral, icy blue eyes swallowed by darkness, inky black veins marbling his cheeks. His true form still made your heart beat furiously, that primal nature in you screaming to run. You had long stopped listening to that side you of. You were the moth and he was the flame and he could burn you to a crisp.

“Yes and no, of course you give me everything I want, more than I want or even ask of you. You know damn well what I mean, Michael!” you shot back, angry tears you didn't know had been hiding behind your (Y/E/C) eyes shooting into the corners, threatening to spill. You breathed hard against his broad chest, not willing to back down, staring down the monster before you, tempting the beast.

“Why must you ask of me what I cannot give you, Angel?” he said, black eyes staring into yours, his iron grip on your hips becoming painful. It didn't stop the lust begin to pool between your thighs and Michael could smell it, taking a deep breath, his eyes falling shut at the intoxicating aroma and his forehead came to rest against your own.

“I swear you will be the death of me. Why you have the hold you do on me, I do not know but I don't ever want to let you go,” he rumbled, his cock twitching against your belly in response to your arousal.

“Then don't, Michael,” you whispered, lifting your hands to clutch his face and making him open his eyes to look at you.

“You know when I lie. Tell me I'm lying when I say I want to be like you,” you continued, sensing a break in his impenetrable exterior when it came to the matter of him turning you. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head, his golden locks tickling your collarbone.

“I know you mean what you say, Angel. But how can you be so sure when you don't even know what it is you're signing up for?”

“What, the blood, the killing? I think I can handle it,” you countered, thinking back to the many nights you watched him stalk, hunt, eat and sometimes kill his latest victim. It never became easier but you got used to it. It was simply the way things were in Michael's world and it had become a part of yours, for better or worse.

“No, not the killing. I know you'd be a natural,” he smiled, fangs gleaming in the warm glow of the fire.

“It's what gets taken from you. Once I make you like me, you will stay as you are now, frozen in time. You will never feel the joy of having a family, the people you love around you slowly wither away and die,” he explained, pain evident in his voice.

“So you'd let me wither away and die, Michael? It's just not fair!” the tears that you had held back flowed freely down your cheeks now, your hands pushing at his chest. The thought of you growing old and dying, while he stayed as ethereal as he had been for the last 4 odd centuries made your heart constrict. You didn't want to be a blip on his eternal radar, you wanted more. Your feelings had blossomed from a pure animalistic lust and a near certain death wish at the hands of the blonde vampire before you if only it meant he would fuck you like he had that first night, into a deeper admiration for the man. You loved him, in your pathetic human way and it showed. In the way your chest heaved, those glossy tears staining your pretty face.

Michael let go of you, not baring to watch the pain he caused you. He was so close to giving in to your wish. Like he hadn't spent countless nights mulling over the prospect of turning you when you were occupied with your day job at the newspaper or lying next to him asleep after he had driven his tongue and cock into your weeping cunt, utterly spent. He was so close to biting his wrist, forcing it over your pretty little mouth, making you to drink his blood and then draining you dry.  His cock grew exceedingly hard against his stomach at the image of you becoming immortal at his hand. And yet, he couldn't, not yet. Not until he was sure that this was what you wanted, that you knew what eternity at his side entailed. He had to give you the chance to reject his offer. He would let you go, live the life he wanted you to lead, perhaps while staying with him for as long as you wanted him. In his eyes, it was not he who held the power but you.

“If that is what you really want, Angel, I will consider it,” he rumbled, his hand coming to brush through his hair begrudgingly, his back to you. How you manged to make him change his mind, he couldn't fathom. Your head shot up, eyes glinting at his admission and a smile spread over your lips. Your arms slung themselves around his torso, your wet cheeks pressing into his shoulders.

“Thank you, Michael. I'll do whatever it takes to show you that I stand by my choice,” you mumbled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“There is in fact something you can do right now, the rest we'll talk about tomorrow,” he smirked.

His hands took yours and placed them on his evident erection, hissing at the contact of your slim fingers you wrapped all too willingly around his hard cock. You giggled, one hand coming to glide over the flushed head, already leaking precum.

You were pulled out of your daydream and back into the present when your phone buzzed. Michael.

You smiled. Speak of the Devil.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, the phone pressed to your ear and you rolled onto your back, the sheets around your hips.

“Good morning Angel, happy Birthday,” Michael's deep voice traveled through the phone, making you sigh. You'd never tire of the deep timbre.

“G'morning. You're up early,” you remarked with a small chuckle.

“Actually, it's still dark here. I've been up all night, finalizing the contracts,” he responded. Michael had flown out to Chicago at the beginning of the week to orchestrate some takeover or other. Considering he was over 4 centuries old, he still handled almost all of his business endeavors, appearing only as an enigmatic faceless investor from what you had gathered.

“True, I'm sorry, still a little groggy. Will you make it for tonight?” you asked, rubbing some sleep out of your eye and stretching on the bed, phone between your ear and shoulder as you waited for his reply.

The past year had flown by quicker than you wanted and Michael had made you reconsider at every opportunity he got. You had remained steadfast through his repetitive questions of whether you were sure. He would gauge your reaction when a mother with a small child would pass by the two of you on the street. He insisted you spend time with your family and friends, telling you in no uncertain terms that would he turn you, you could not trust yourself around the people you cared about for a long time, perhaps never for as long as they were alive. Your increase in visits to your family out of state did raise eyebrows and your mother thought you were hiding a terrible secret like a terminal cancer diagnosis from them. When she confided her worries to you, you couldn’t help but laugh, not sure if the flipside of what was really going on was any better. You eventually convinced your family that nothing was wrong and that you were just missing them. And you did. Yet still, you had made up your mind about what you wanted.

“I'm not sure I will. I'm sorry, Angel. I will let you know as soon as I am done here and on the plane. Just have fun today. Your mother is in town after all. You two ladies enjoy yourself, you have my card, don't you?” Michael replied, a tiredness apparent in his voice despite the small smile you could hear. At his words, you looked over at the night table, the sleek black credit card laying on top the latest novel you were currently entertaining yourself with while Michael was away.

“Yeah, I do. I will and I hope those idiots get that deal over the table quickly. I've missed you,” you said, one hand coming to toy with the tie on your silk sleep shorts. He loved the fabric and you didn’t mind indulging in the luxury he offered so freely. Michael's chuckle rang through the speaker as he imagined just how much you had been missing him.

“I've missed you too. Listen, Angel, I've got to go, my team is holding on the other line. Enjoy your Birthday, I'll see you soon,” he said, something unspoken in his tone as he ended the phone call, leaving you with your hands down your shorts. You contemplated on whether you should finish what you started but decided against it when your phone started vibrating again. It was your Mother.

“Good morning, Darling! Happy Birthday! Oh, I'm so excited we get to spend the day together. It was so nice of Michael to fly me out to you first class. I'm in the cab right now, I'll be there in 40,” your mother's cheery voice bubbled out the speaker, making you smile. It was awfully nice of Michael to fly her out, when he had insisted on staying out of your family life for the most part of your relationship.

You guessed your primal urges after having heard Michael's voice first thing in the morning would have to wait.

“Hey mom, I didn't know you'd already landed. I'm just hopping in the shower now. See you in 40!” you swung your legs out of bed and got ready.

°°°

The day all but flew by, the two of you truly indulging yourself against your mother's insistence that Michael had already spent more than enough. As the day past, a heaviness settled in your stomach when the time grew close for her to head back to the airport. In the cab, you leaned your head against her shoulder, her hand coming to stroke over your cheek lovingly.

“Are you alright, honey? You seem different, is everything OK between you and Michael? Are you fighting?” she asked, concern crossing her features.

“No mom, we're not fighting. We're good. I don't know, it's just so nice that you came to spend the day with me,” you laughed, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes.

“Of course, it's my baby's Birthday and when Michael offered, I couldn't refuse. It been so nice to spend more time with you lately and I'm glad that he thinks it's important that my high-flying journalist daughter comes back home now and then and that he wants you to spend time with your family. He seems to be making you very happy and that's all that matters to me, Sweety,” your mother cooed. In the beginning, she had tried to pry information from you about the man that had swept you off your feet and was unsure of his intentions with you at first, fearing that you had managed to attract a sugar daddy of sorts. You tried not to go into the details, for how could you explain your vampiric lover to her? When your relationship progressed from months to years however, she felt that whatever this man was doing to you, you were thriving and happy. You satisfied her need to know more about him with the odd instagram picture of your vacations and day-to-day life.

“He makes me incredibly happy, mom. You have no idea,” you mumbled, leaning into her touch.

“I'm so proud of you, you know. All grown-up, a gorgeous man by your side, I can already see my cherubic little grandchildren running around the backyard,” your mother said, a gleeful expression on her face. At her words, you winched, your thoughts coming back to the situation at hand. You looked up at her, biting your lip. You couldn't tell her that kids were not on the list when it came to Michael or you for that matter.

“Don't start this again, please! Not on my birthday,” you groaned and rolled your eyes, a chuckle in the back of your throat, trying to ease the lump that had formed.

“Fine, fine. I guess I can't have it all, just yet. I'm patient, though,” she chided, waving a finger at your in mock seriousness.

“Yeah, yeah, mom. Look we're here already,” you replied with a smile, hiding your disappointment at the end of her visit, your eyes taking her in. Something told you that you should memorize her features, the face that you had looked up to all your life. Your mother sensed your sadness and took your hands, squeezing them.

“Oh, don't you start blubbering now. It's been such a nice day and I'm sure you can get a weekend off work and come down to spend the day with us, perhaps Michael can finally join?” she reasoned, her own eyes welling up with tears.

“Yeah, I'll see what I can do and I'm sure Michael will come along some time,”  you responded, pulling yourself together. Before the moment between the two of you would end in tears, you got out the car and around your mother's side to open the door. What had gotten into you?

You mother exited the cab and engulfed you in a hug only a mother could give. Your arms came around her back and you clung to her, taking in her perfume and basking in the familiarity of it for a moment before you detached yourself from her and took a deep breath, a shaky laugh escaping your lungs.

“I'll take you to the check-in. Michael hasn't texted yet when he'll be there and I have ti-,”

“Oh, no, no, no darling, please. You take the cab back to the city. Enjoy the evening, maybe draw a bath and read a book before Michael gets there. I can take care of myself,” she countered. Always looking out for others, you mused and you loved her for it. You had to admit, as much fun as it had been, you were dead on your feet, not used to walking across the whole of NYC, sight-seeing with your mother.

“Fine, but you text me when you get to the gate and when you land, ok?” you demanded, kissing her on the cheek.

“I will, I will. No go on and say thank you to Michael from me!” She ushered you back to the cab, throwing a kiss your way as she made her way into the terminal. As the cab pulled away from the curb, you watched as she entered, turning around to wave at you. You waved back forcing a smile, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. You hated goodbyes.

°°°

On the way back into town, you decided you would rather spend the night at Michael's place, who had not texted you yet and you began to suspect that he would not make it back to the city that night. At least you could sink into the sheets and fall asleep enveloped in his scent. He also had a rather elaborate bathroom with a freestanding clawfoot bathtub. Your mother's words rang in your ears: a bath might just be what you needed. You gave the cabdriver the directions to Michael's penthouse.

°°°

*Beep!*

The private elevator doors slid open as you swiped the keycard over the reader. You stepped inside and pressed the only button on the panel. 30 seconds later, the doors opened up into Michael's penthouse entry hallway.

Your phone buzzed.

I see you're making yourself comfortable.

I hope your day was good.

Sorry I couldn't text you any sooner, just heading to the airport now.

Will be there in 2 hours.

Of course his security system would alert him to you swiping your keycard, you smirked.

Always watching, are you?

Stalker.

You replied, giggling as you made your way into the apartment, taking off your jacket and shoes.

I never lose sight of my prey.

Your cheeks began to flush at his reply. The deal must've gone down well. You decided on what reply would rile him up the most as you walked into the bathroom, turning the lights on to the dimmest setting. Deciding the best course of action was to meet him head on, you quickly stripped out of your clothing, separating the matching black lace underwear set from the pile and draping it over the edge of the bathtub before snapping a picture and sending it to him.

Just you wait, Angel. You could practically hear his sultry promise through the text.

You began to fill the bathtub with warm water, adding a bath bomb from the cupboard. You didn't have many of your things at Michael's place but you insisted on having a supply of them stashed in one of the glossy cabinets, seeing as you only had a shower in your apartment and loved to soak in the tub after Michael had finally let you out from under him.

That warm tingle was starting to creep up between your thighs again. It had only been a week without Michael touching you and yet you were positively brimming with excitement at the prospect of him being here soon.

Boarding the jet now.

Don't. You. Move. Angel.

Oh, you didn't intend to move a muscle until he came through those doors.

Maybe I'll start without you ;)

You replied, snickering as you stepped into the tub and groaned at the blissful warmth of the water against your skin.

Angel...

Came his reply almost instantly.

You decided to grace his threat of things to come, and you were positive both of you would be doing a lot of that, with no response. Maybe you were a little mad under the surface that he had not made an exception and came back a day earlier. You knew full well that his team could handle a takeover on their own.

Maybe he has decided against turning you, maybe this is his way of backing off, hoping you get the message, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut at the intrusive thought. No, if he was no longer interested, he would have told you, he owed you that. Yet you couldn’t shake the sense that he had been growing distant these past couple of weeks. Suddenly, 2 hours seemed like an impossibly long time to kill. It was as if an invisible noose was placed around your neck, and him coming back on your birthday would be the day where he had had enough of you, that noose coming to strangle your vision of the future.

Suddenly the warm water was no longer relaxing, instead the steam rising from the surface threatened to choke you. Maybe you had it all wrong and he was right. How could you know what you really wanted? How could be sure? Anger and frustration bubbled up inside you at the impossibility of the situation. Nothing was easy when it came to the vampire. Well, perhaps the sex.

You had only had a mimosa for brunch with your mother, not trusting yourself to to get tipsy and blurt out an unfortunately worded reply to her multiple questions of how Michael was doing and what he was up to.

You looked at the time on your phone on the bathtub side table. You had just over 90 minutes to kill before Michael would be here. Maybe some liquid courage in the form of a glass of wine would help you maneuver the contradicting thoughts in your head.

You got out the bath, dried yourself off and threw on the bathrobe hanging on the wall next to the marble sink, before stalking into the enormous open plan kitchen, where Michael always kept a few bottles of wine for whatever occasion might present itself.

You fingers flitted over the bottles, unsure of what to pick, not that you really had an idea of what was good. Knowing Michael, all of these would be. With a shrug, you grabbed one of the bottle necks at random, stopping yourself before you drove the corkscrew into the bottle. Maybe you should check the price of this. You googled the label, instant regret on your face, your eyebrows shooting up into your hairline. $180. Well, fuck me sideways, you thought, biting your lip. A moment of completion had you regarding the bottle. Screw it. With a satisfying plop, you uncorked the bottle, pouring a generous amount into a wine glass you had grabbed from the cabinet. Not wanting to drink in silence and ruminate further, you took the bottle in one hand, glass in the other and made your way over to the large sofas. Setting down the bottle and glass on the mahogany couch table, you grabbed the remote and began flicking aimlessly through the channels. You settled on a recent remake of Frankenstein, with an actor who's name you couldn't recall. Not that it mattered. Anything to take your mind off running in circles.

Soon, you were engrossed in the movie more than you cared to admit, your glass suddenly empty as you lifted it to your lips. With a shrug, you poured another glass, melting into the push upholstery. You lost track of time and how many glasses you had poured, the bottle nearly empty when the elevator pinged, sleek brushed aluminum doors sliding open to reveal Michael, dressed in a black suit that clung to him in all the right places, the equally black shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal a slither of his broad chest. You craned your neck over the tall backrest of the couch at the sound, only the top of your head and eyes visible. He met your gaze, a smirk forming in the corners of his mouth.

Tag List: @sexwon131 @leatherduncan @rocketgirl2410

[spaceskam]

apart of this universe on ao3 <3

1 | 2

warning: mentions of addiction/self-medicating, vaguely implied sexual assault

“What the fuck, Guerin?”

Michael stopped brushing his teeth as Alex walked in. He hadn’t actually seen him that day, unless you count the part where he woke up and turned Alex’s first alarm off before it could wake him. But, as per usual, he looked good. Hair all ruffled, long sleeved black shirt, dark-lined eyes, tight jeans, freshly painted nails, and looking at Michael like he expected something from him. 

“What?” Michael asked, slowly pulling the brush out of his mouth. Alex looked between him and the running sink a few times before he walked over and turned it off. “Hey!”

“You’re supposed to turn it off while you’re brushing, you’d know that if you brushed your teeth like a normal person,” Alex said, taking a step back and eyeing him, “Why are you brushing your teeth like a normal person?” 

“Um,” he said, trying to find the best way to explain that he thought Alex might like it if he brushed his teeth more than once every other day without being told.

“Finishing brushing your teeth so I can understand you,” he ordered. Michael nodded, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing out his mouth. He ran the toothbrush under the water and put it on the counter before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Alex looked at it and made kind of a grossed out face, but he took a heavy breath and tried to put his focus on Michael. “Now why?”

“Seemed like a good idea.”

“You know what else seems like a good idea right now? Explaining to me how the hell your brain works,” Alex said, hands going to his hips and his head tilting in that demanding way. It was much more distracting than he was comfortable admitting in the moment.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you doing? Why did you kiss me yesterday and then not talk to me? Why did you kiss me last night and then leave before I woke up? Honestly, why are you even here right now? It’s 7PM, you’re usually off getting fucked up,” Alex threw at him. Michael made a choice not to let that settle in his chest, knowing that Alex wasn’t exactly wrong in what he was saying. However, it was a different story when it came to actually talking about that. So, he held up four fingers

“I am talking to you.” He put one finger down. “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you and you kissed me back and then my phone was dead.” He put another finger down. “I kissed you last night because I have no self control when I’m high, but I got up before you to show you I’m not entirely helpless.” He put another finger down. “And I came back here instead of going out because the idea of possibly kissing you again sounds, like, a lot better than getting high right now.” He put his whole hand down, looking to Alex to make sure they were all answered. His eyebrows were furrowed, looking cuter than ever.

Why did he have to be so cute? Wasn’t it like a rule not to be into your roommate? He tried his damnedest not too, he really did, but it was hard when he was cute and nice and wanted to kiss him back. Like, how much self control could he have?

“So, what, you were trying to impress me by getting yourself ready in the morning?” Alex asked. Michael gave a guilty smile, shrugging. Alex looked him up and down, making him stand a little straighter just in case. “You do know that it came off as you trying to avoid talking to me again, right?”

Michael blinked a few times. He honestly hadn’t even considered that. “Oh, I’m sorry, I won’t... do that again, I guess?” Alex huffed a laugh, but it slowly split into a smile as he shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. You just didn’t exactly explain yourself. You need to work on using your words,” Alex told him, taking a step closer. All of Michael’s hair seemed to stand at attention, all wired for him. Which was weird and not something he’d actually felt before. There was just something about him.

“I’ll work on it,” he said. Alex nodded slowly.

“And you decided to actually get sober for once just for the chance of kissing me again?” Alex clarified, taking another step closer and firmly placing himself in Michael's space.

Michael knew he had problems. He knew it well, he wasn't stupid. Yet, the idea of promising to do better with that felt like a lie. He did want to try. But... that was easier said than done. Right now, with Alex so close and his eyes holding so much promise for the next few hours was one thing. The uncertainty of everything in the future was another.

Then Alex put his hand on his chest, looking up to him like that didn’t matter. Like just this one little bit of effort mattered. Damn him if that didn’t feel like everything he’d ever wanted.

“But you actually like me?” Alex clarified, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt to get a good grip, “Like, this isn’t a joke?” 

“You’re beautiful and you’re nice to me,” Michael explained, “How the hell was I supposed to not be into you?”

“And you’re not just gonna fuck off the minute you get what you want?” Alex asked, letting go of his shirt and sliding his hand down his chest, “Because that’s really mean.”

“No, I won’t do that,” he said firmly. He knew that for sure. Hell, he’d spent so long avoiding him, trying not just make a move the second he saw him like he did almost everyone else. Alex was a pristine, precious little thing entering a lion’s den and Michael couldn’t seem to protect him the way he’d originally decided. He was too irresistible. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why are you so convinced you will? I’m not made of glass,” Alex said, his fingers finding the belt loops of his jeans and tugging him closer. Michael swallowed.

“Maybe not, but I’m destructive,” Michael said, “Really destructive.”

“Says the engineer,” Alex laughed softly, smiling at him so fondly, “Maybe you’re destructive, but that title says you’re probably pretty good at building things too. Let me help you with the structure, okay?”

And Alex probably meant it as a silly little metaphor, but Michael felt emotion swell in his chest and tighten his throat. His eyebrows came together and he blinked a few times, shooing away tears that he could feel coming on. He hoped it was caused by withdrawals instead of Alex because that would be embarrassing.

But Alex didn’t tease him. Instead, he put his palm on his cheek and still smiled.

“Kiss me,” Alex urged softly, “I promise I taste better when you’re sober.”

Michael nodded and let him pull him down into a kiss. It was softer than the ones from yesterday, sweet and cautious. Alex pulled away slightly, looking at him with big, endless eyes. He hadn’t realized how nice his eyes were before. Now, he was pretty sure they held the secrets of the universe.

“Is this okay?” Alex asked. Michael couldn’t recall being asked that before. There were people he didn’t remember kissing, people he didn’t remember touching, days he woke up naked and confused in strangers’ beds. This felt like the total opposite and somehow it was even more terrifying.

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. Alex smiled and pulled him back in. Michael’s hands went to his face, holding him carefully like he might break. Because he might.

He kept himself at bay, lifting onto his toes and only pressing himself into Alex as much as he was welcome. But Alex seemed to welcome him entirely, smiling and holding his waist. It was so... nice. 

Nice, but overwhelming. He could feel it in his fingertips and his stomach was so tense that it hurt, but he couldn’t seem to relax. Alex was warm and welcoming, but it was terrifying. The only thing that kept him calm was Alex promising him that he wanted this even if it made no sense.

“Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?” Alex said suddenly, voice soft and comforting. He pulled out of the kiss, a little frown on his face as he wiped Michael’s cheeks. And it was the biggest sign that he was sober. Yeah, he’d still fail a drug test, but his system was readjusting to going this many hours without something to quiet his mind. The longest since, what, junior year of high school? Sophomore?

“Nothing,” Michael promised, letting go of him just long enough to wipe his face dry, “I’m just, just like that sometimes, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Alex said and he said it like he meant it, “Let’s lay down, maybe that’ll help. Tell me if you feel sick, okay?”

Michael nodded and stood there a little helplessly as Alex took of his jacket and his shoes. He was so nice and pretty and put together. Why the hell did he like Michael?

They laid down in the tiny twin bed together, fingers combing through his hair as Alex’s warm blanket and warmer body gave him comfort he hated that he needed. Each touch seemed to subdue the chaos in his mind, keeping him safe. Alex would kiss his forehead and his lips every once in awhile, still babying him even though this situation between them had changed. And Michael loved it.

And maybe that should’ve been a red flag.

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1984

Under the cut.

Yes -- "Owner of a Lonely Heart" -- January 21, 1984

The full version of this song is way too long. Not surprising from a former prog rock band. The music is good and interesting, but it loses me before the end even in the shorter single version. There's too much stuff. As for the lyrics, maybe that prog rock gloss made people think they were profound, but they look like self-help. Some incredibly 80s Reagan-era individualism, better to be alone than to be hurt, you're the only one you can count on, blah blah blah. Not for me. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Culture Club -- "Karma Chameleon" -- February 4, 1984

The video to this song has nothing to do with it, unless there's supposed to be a connection between the con artist on the fantasy world 19th century steamboat and the guy who keeps coming and going whom Boy George is singing to. And I didn't fully realize the "you come and go" double entendre until just now. I like the video, anyway. And I like the song quite a bit. It's a very cheerful-sounding song about being strung along by some asshole.

Van Halen -- "Jump" -- February 25, 1984

Van Halen was something boys were into. It's weird how we delineate these things. At least back in 1984, if it got coded as a boy thing, then if you were a girl and also found it interesting, you'd damn well better hide it or certain other more socially powerful kids would tear you to shreds. That was my experience, anyway. (And if other girls were into it and you were not, you were also in serious trouble.) So though when I heard Van Halen songs I thought, "hm, I'm intrigued," I did not dare pursue that interest. Except for this song. This one was allowed. It's fun.

Kenny Loggins -- "Footloose" -- March 31, 1984

Footloose is a pretty good movie. At least I remember it being so when I eventually saw it in college in the 90s. Anything that stands against censorship, and for art and people having fun, already has an in with me. Also Kevin Bacon's great. The song isn't about the movie particularly; it's just about how dancing is wonderful. Though there is a hint at the movie: "You're playing so cool/ Obeying every rule/ Deep way down in your heart/ You're burning yearning for some/ Somebody to tell you/ That life ain't passing you by/ I'm trying to tell you/ It will if you don't even try." Yeah. Agatha Christie at one point lamented that young people in the 1950s were far too serious and self-righteous, and really needed to go dance in fountains. I feel the same now as she did then. Though wait until after the covid vaccine's been widely taken. Anyway, this is a good dance song.

Phil Collins -- "Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)" -- April 21, 1984

It's a lament about being dumped. Apparently, Collins wrote it about his wife leaving him out of the blue, taking the kids and the dog with her. Ouch. There's a great drum part, which keeps the song from being too boring, but I still don't like it. Phil Collins' serious love/heartbreak songs don't do it for me. I find this one depressing without being cathartic.

Lionel Richie -- "Hello" -- May 12, 1984

I remember this video from when it was on the air. Mostly because of the Lionel Richie clay head. But also because I was like... is she his student? Isn't that a bad thing? Even though she's an adult in college, I still thought you weren't supposed to do that? I've had a major squick against teacher/student relationships, even in fiction, since I was a kid. Possibly this is because I come from a family of professors. (I didn't get a PhD and am therefore the black sheep.) Without reference to the video, the song is terrible. The lyrics are just repetitive cheese, whatever, but the song is so slow and blah and I don't like Lionel Richie's singing.

Deniece Williams -- "Let's Hear It For the Boy" -- May 26, 1984

I keep being surprised that there are people who think someone is worthless if they don't have a lot of money and don't dress fashionably. In this song, the titular boy also can't dance, but is that a thing that people get dinged for in reality? I don't know, maybe. This song was in Footloose, and it's the same sentiment as "My Guy"; her boy isn't some smooth-talking rich brat, but "he's my lovin' one-man show." He's like Edward Ferrars, not Willoughby. It's a fun song.

Cyndi Lauper -- "Time After Time" -- June 9, 1984

This is one of the greatest songs ever. Not just pop songs. Any song, of any type.

Duran Duran -- "The Reflex" -- June 23, 1984

These lyrics make no sense. That doesn't matter for this song much, which is all about the music. Which is not the best of Duran Duran's music. For all the many, many, MANY different musical ideas in it, it's actually kinda boring. They'd have done better to simplify. I imagine this sounds something like cocaine feels, though drinking way too many Mountain Dews to pull an all-nighter's my only comparison. Duran Duran were never my favorite, but I do enjoy many of their songs. This one, meh.

Prince -- "When Doves Cry" -- July 7, 1984

Prince only two songs after Cyndi Lauper? Is it my birthday? The song's lyrics start out being about the amazing chemistry between the narrator and "you." That establishes why they're together. Then Prince moves on to how they "scream at each other," and it's what it sounds like "when doves cry." He's accusatory -- "How could you just leave me standing/ Alone in a world so cold?" But then he goes right into thinking maybe it's his fault: "Maybe I'm just too demanding" etc. It's a sexy, thoughtful, and anguished song about a relationship in trouble. I like to think they'll overcome their problems and stop screaming at each other. Trust me, it's very possible. Also the music is great.

Ray Parker Jr. -- "Ghostbusters" -- August 11, 1984

Um. I have no idea how to evaluate this one. I heard it first in the theatre when I saw the movie, but I heard it years after every week when I watched the cartoon. It just... is.

Tina Turner -- "What's Love Got To Do With It" -- September 1, 1984

I have an overwhelming memory of hearing this song when I was alone in the grocery store as a teenager. I have no idea why the memory's so strong. Maybe it was the first time I went to the grocery store by myself? Maybe I ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, though I don't remember that? (If I was 16, that could have been one of any three guys... Romance is my secondary aspiration, after all.) In any case, it's a good song. The attempt to pretend love is a bunch of chemicals and doesn't truly matter is a pretty common one for the broken-hearted. And Tina Turner's great as always.

John Waite -- "Missing You" -- September 22, 1984

Two songs in a row about being in denial over matters of love. Interesting. This isn't the most fascinating song ever, but it's a good solid song about heartbreak that isn't gloopy at all. In the main vocals, Waite keeps insisting "I ain't missing you," but in the background is a soft voice that sings "missing you" over and over. That's a smart artistic move.

Prince and the Revolution -- "Let's Go Crazy" -- September 29, 1984

I liked a lot of pop music when I was 7, but I didn't get Prince. His songs sort of slid out of my brain as a "thing for grownups," and who could understand grownups? He was short and wore fancy outfits, and that's about all that registered. When I hit puberty, though... yeah. This song is more adult than that, though, and I don't mean sexually, though there is plenty of sex in this song. "You better live now/ Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door." The song is about sex, partying, and death. Also Prince was an astonishing guitarist, along with everything else. It's not one of my favorite Prince songs, because the lyrics are pretty depressing and it's super loud, but it's still great.

Stevie Wonder -- "I Just Called To Say I Love You" -- October 13, 1984

I never really listened to the background beep-de-boops in this song before. I've wondered before why this song, with its simple lyrics and melody, didn't bore me. It's the beep-de-boops. They, along with Stevie Wonder's perfect delivery, make this song musically complex. And the simple lyrics, with the more complex musical counterpoints, absolutely work. It helps that this is the kind of thing people really do.

Billy Ocean -- "Caribbean Queen" -- November 3, 1984

That heavy breathing after the line "I get so excited just from her perfume" is unfortunate. Otherwise, it's a song about how he met this "Caribbean Queen" on vacation and she "tamed" him so he's no longer looking for "love on the run." Sure, why not. I'd like a little more story to it, but that's me. It's got a good beat though, and is enjoyable enough as-is.

Wham! -- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" -- November 17, 1984

I just realized I don't like this song. The beat and hook are sort of irresistible, and as a dance song the music absolutely works. But there's too much nostalgia about stuff that George Michael actually wasn't old enough to be nostalgic about. He was only 21 at the time, born in 1963, and yet he was singing about Doris Day. You can homage anything at any age, but... meh. And speaking of age, it's kind of a childish song and George Michael's voice was always more on the mature end, even if he was young at the time. For me, it hits a jarring note.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Out of Touch" -- December 8, 1984

The beginning makes it sound like this is gonna be a relatively hard rock song, but that ends after a pretty short time. It's still really loud, with huge drums, and Hall pretty much shouts the song. Hall & Oates were great when they stripped stuff down. All this noise doesn't work for them. There are neat parts when all the noise suddenly stops and there's total silence, but then it goes right back to the rather uninteresting loudness. Not for me.

Madonna -- "Like A Virgin" -- December 22, 1984

And so it begins. Backstory: Madonna went to the same high school as my mother. She was friends (maybe more? he won't talk) with one of my uncles. When my grandmother saw the Like A Virgin album on the rack at the store, she said, "I'm so glad [he] didn't marry that girl." When my mother told me that, my reaction was "Are you kidding? We'd be rich!" But my family cares about PhDs and not money. My uncle ran wild in high school, but eventually became a successful career diplomat (and stopped being a jackass) after the woman he was in love with told him he'd better shape up or else. Also he looks a lot like Guy Ritchie, so that was weird for a while. I'd be in the grocery store and for a second think, "Why's my uncle on The Enquirer with Madonna?"

So anyway, the song. The way Madonna sang it in later iterations, I like it. I can't stand the version that became a #1 hit. The Betty Boop voice is just ugh. I love a lot of Madonna's music, and she would be something of an inspiration to me in later days, with her unapologetic persona as a woman who liked and wanted sex -- and enjoyed shocking the censorious -- but I was 8 at the time. I didn't get any of it, I just knew she sounded squeaky in this song and it bugged me.

BEST OF 1984: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. WORST OF 1984: "Hello" by Lionel Richie

[yamisnuffles]

So It Was Arranged

Part 8 of Too Much of a Good Thing

Aziraphale falls in battle and must get back to Crowley.

Read on Ao3

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Aziraphale wondered if humans would ever get tired of fighting. He certainly had, back when humans had only been a sparkle in divine eyes. He vividly remembered thinking, at the very least, the fight with the Fallen would be the last. The Fallen had been dealt with, only the faithful remained in Heaven, and that was that. Even having lived through that, when he was assigned to guard Eden, he hadn’t suspected there would be trouble. It was a fresh start. She had done so much work to make a world for the humans, he couldn’t imagine She would let anything happen to them let alone that Heaven would want fighting.

“What’s this have to do with anything?”

Aziraphale stumbled. He really wasn’t feeling well at all. Too much fighting for too long. He couldn’t quite remember when he’d last stopped. He had stopped at some point, hadn’t he? He was almost certain.

“Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale shook his head. He was hearing things. He would have to add that to the list of problems, along with some sort of problem with his vision and difficulty concentrating.

“Aziraphale, hey, talk to me. Come on.”

There were hands on his shoulders. Aziraphale stared at them until he realized that hands were attached to arms, which were, generally speaking, usually attached to people. His gaze wandered vaguely from delicate hands to bony wrist, on to wiry arms, pointed shoulders, long neck, and finally a face.

“Oh, Crowley. Hello. What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Yes. Yes, I definitely remember that much.” Aziraphale’s eyes travelled beyond that beloved face, with its startling golden eyes and crooked nose, to something bright and white and nearly blinding. “You have your wings out? Why have you got your wings out.”

“Why have I— I’m getting you out of here, that’s why.”

“I’m supposed to be here, though. I don’t think I should go anywhere.” Aziraphale’s legs felt shaky and his stomach turned at the prospect of flying. Yes, a quick nap seemed just the ticket. “I think I’d rather stay here and lay down for a moment, my dear.”

His legs gave out but rather than meet with the ground, he found himself in Crowley’s arms. What beloved arms. Thin but willow strong like all of Crowley, so much less likely to snap than Aziraphale.

“No, no, no. Keep your eyes open. Do not close them. Don’t you dare.”

Aziraphale reached out. Crowley’s eyes seemed strange. Watery. He collected a drop on his gloved finger and blinked at it. “Are you… crying? Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re dying, you big idiot. So focus and stay here while I heal you. Fuck, you’ve lost so much blood. It will take me time so stay with me.”

Crowley’s words seemed like they should be angry but they sounded so sad. Aziraphale didn’t understand it. It was only a nap. That wasn’t anything to worry about. Crowley slept all the time. Really, he was being unreasonable.

“Just a small nap,” he mumbled, “and I’ll be right as rain, dearest. So please don’t cry.”

“Don’t. Don’t leave me here. Please. I can’t follow you there.”

Crowley’s voice cracked and something in Aziraphale cracked with it but he could no longer keep his eyes open no matter how he tried. There was a light, bright and warm and irresistible. He needn’t even move toward it. It was the ensnaring drag of the tide and he was far too tired to struggle against the pull. He was going home. He was released from his body with a sigh that he hoped sounded something like good-bye or, perhaps, I’m sorry.

Aziraphale returned to consciousness in a place that was about as far as anyone could get from the mess of blood and bodies he’d left behind. Mud and clouds and the stench of war had been replaced by sterile, dazzling white in all directions. The heat of his gambeson and chainmail were gone. An overwhelming sense of peace had overtaken any physical discomfort because there was nothing physical left about him. 

Free of his wounded corporation, he could remember it all. He remembered losing his footing in the muck when he’d tried to avoid being struck in the head. The heavy clubbed end of a mace had hit him before he could bring up his shield to block it. Five millennia on Earth and with the experience of fighting against the damned and yet all it had taken was one misstep and one foolish clump of metal to bring it all to an end. His life had already been forfeit before Crowley had found him.

“Oh, Crowley.”

Aziraphale wrung his hands and found it didn’t quite have the same soothing effect without his corporation. He could feel the ghost of hot tears on his face. He reached up to touch them but there was nothing there. They’d been left back on Earth, along with the skin they’d fallen upon and the muscle, fat, blood, and bone beneath. They’d been left with Crowley.

He needed to get back, which meant he needed a new corporation. He knew that there was someone in charge of such things but he’d been assigned his original one so long ago that he didn’t rightly remember who. He was quite certain everything had looked different then. He was in some sort of small reception room with a sign that said, “Welcome Back” on the wall. He supposed that should have been some sort of comfort to him. He was back in Heaven. It should have felt like home. Only, his home had a growing collection of books and a garden out back. It smelled of fresh baked bread, aging paper, and apple blossoms, not some vaguely ambrosial nothing. Most importantly, his home had the only angel not currently welcome here.

Aziraphale exited into a hallway full of identical doors. He wondered if the rooms behind them all hosted the newly discorporated. He hoped that meant there was a smooth reincorporation process set up. He needed to get back as soon as he could. He couldn’t very well do his job like this. Surely they would understand that.

He hurried down the hall until it let out into a large round room with a desk in the middle. A very bored looking angel was seated behind a thick ledger.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and the angel looked up at him. “Yes. Hello.” He gave a small wave and then tucked his hand behind his back when the gesture wasn’t returned. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me where to go to get a new body.”

The angel opened her mouth to respond but she was interrupted by a pop. A letter materialized on top of the ledger. Aziraphale waited as patiently as he could while she slowly unfurled the scroll and read its contents.

“Principality Aziraphale, you are expected up top immediately.”

Aziraphale shrank under the implications. “Up… up top?” he asked, pointing up. “The very top?”

The angel rolled her eyes at him. “No one goes all the way up. Not these days. You know that.”

“Y-yes. Of course. So, ah…”

“Archangel level, Principality.”

“Right.” It was a less daunting prospect than being summoned to speak directly with Her but standing before the Archangels always made something in his stomach twist, even when he didn’t rightly have a stomach to speak of. “I’ll be right on that. About my body, though…”

“Immediately, Principality.”

“Right.” Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped. He looked around but none of the doors were marked. “Excuse me, but it’s been a while. I just go—” The angel sighed and pointed to her right. Aziraphale offered a smile. “Thank you. I’ll be off then.”

The angel had already returned to filling in her ledger so Aziraphale hurried toward the indicated door. Beyond it was a spiral stone staircase that seemed to travel both up and down into eternity. He knew, logically, that he wouldn’t tire without his body to burden him but he felt exhausted simply looking at it.

By the time he got to the correct level he’d managed to forget who was waiting for him at the other end of it all. Uriel, Michael, and Gabriel were standing next to the tall, arched windows that looked out at the kingdoms of the world. They were busy talking amongst themselves and didn’t seem to have even noticed Aziraphale. As much as he wanted to get on to the business of getting his body back, he really wasn’t in a rush to draw attention to himself. Instead he shuffled up to one of the windows.

He hadn’t looked down on Earth from Heaven since the early days of creation. He recalled marvelling at how he could see every corner of that small blue planet at once, if he wanted, from the deep, dark home of the leviathan to lush nascent Eden. Now he felt as though he couldn’t see anything at all. All of humanity was reduced to a vague impression of their movements. They were nothing more than religion, expansion, progress, and regress. Looking at things this way, Aziraphale could almost see the broad strokes of the Great Plan but he couldn’t see the individual lives that would drive that plan to its inevitable conclusion. Perhaps if he focused in on one amongst the many, he could see. If he thought of scarlet ringlets and golden eyes, of long, lithe limbs and sharp angles…

“There you Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale yelped. Gabriel was standing right next to him, with the others not far behind. “Hello, Gabriel. And, ah, Michael and Uriel.” He had to remind himself that he’d been asked to come here. There was no reason to feel like he’d been caught sneaking where he didn’t belong. “You— you wanted to see me?”

“Well done in the battle,” Michael said. “You were able to advance things as planned.”

“Tough luck getting discorporated though. Taken down by humans. Oof. That’s got to be embarrassing,” Gabriel added.

“There was mud,” Aziraphale quickly explained. “And that armor gets so hot. I had sweat in my eye.”

Gabriel slapped Aziraphale on the back and gave him his most tooth filled smile. “You’ll get ‘em next time, I’m sure, buddy. We’re not judging you for it, are we, Uriel?”

“No,” Uriel replied while somehow making that solitary syllable sound very much like a yes.

Aziraphale glanced between all three faces. He was never sure where he was supposed to look in situations such as these.  “About— about next time. I was hoping I might get back. Only, I’ll need a body. Soon, preferably.”

Gabriel’s lavender eyes widened. “Go back? Why would you want to do that? You’ve put in your work. No one is expecting you to continue mucking about down there. That’s why I called you up here, to go over your next assignment.”

“S-stay here?” Cold dread washed over Aziraphale. “I couldn’t possibly. I have to go back. You know, to see things through properly. I wouldn’t want to see a job half done, after all.”

Uriel’s mouth actually twitched into the start of a bland smile. “An admirable attitude.”

Michael nodded. “Indeed.”

Gabriel scratched the back of his neck. “Well, alright then. If you’re really sure.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale wished he could tell what they were thinking. No matter their expressions, he always felt he was doing or saying the wrong thing. A smile never seemed exactly like a smile on the face of an Archangel. “That is, if it’s alright with all of you.”

“Sure thing,” Gabriel replied but before relief could take hold he added, “but getting you back down there isn’t exactly on the top of the list. You understand. And besides, you have your millennial report to get in still and the proper body requisition forms to fill out.”

Aziraphale forced a brave face to cover the slump of his shoulders. “Yes. Of course. I’ll get right on that.”

The Archangels had already gone back to talking amongst themselves and Aziraphale wondered why it had even been necessary to drag him up here in the first place. His impulse was still to bid them well before he went but he bit his tongue instead. Probably they would think he was bothering them and maybe they would be right, so he left without another word.

Matters did not improve from there. The angels down in the corporation department couldn’t give him a timeframe for when he might expect to get a new body and they didn’t see the rush. Worse, Aziraphale found it difficult to keep track of time in Heaven. Every moment seemed in itself an eternity and yet he also worried it was rushing by. He worried that while he was wading through paperwork, months were slipping by on Earth. He had to hope that, no matter the case, Crowley knew he hadn’t been abandoned.

He had no idea how long it took to slog through his report on the last millennium. What he did know is that he still didn’t have a body to call his own when it was over nor did he have any idea what to do with himself while he waited. He was a Principality. What was he supposed to do without humans about? Well, live ones, at any rate.

He missed the world. He missed the people and places. He longed for his favorite meals and new things to read. More than anything, he desperately, wrenchingly missed Crowley. Even when they’d been parted on Earth, it had never felt like this. There had always been a sense of him. All Aziraphale had needed to do was reach out and he could feel Crowley out there. And now, nothing. The gulf between them was too wide. Aziraphale felt the loss more keenly than the loss of his body. It was as though a piece of his very essence had been carved away.

That was how he found himself in the largely defunct department for the development and creation of celestial bodies. There had to be someone still working there because the office still existed but Aziraphale didn’t see any sign of anyone. There were drafting tables and desks spread throughout but most of them were barren. One desk had the nameplate Reuel on it and a note that said they were off to keep an eye on a potentially troublesome blackhole. Another, in a far corner, bore a familiar name, if one he hadn’t heard since the Beginning.

Aziraphale approached it as though afraid he might startle it if he walked in too direct a line. He picked up the nameplate and ran his thumb over the indented forms of an orphaned name. He put it back where it had been, careful that it was exactly as it had been, and took a seat. “I probably shouldn’t.” The desk drawers didn’t answer. Aziraphale reached out, pulled his hand back, and reached out again. “Well, I’m sure a quick look wouldn’t hurt anything. It’s not as though I’ll be interrupting his work and I certainly don’t have anything better to do with myself at the moment.”

Despite its long abandonment, Crowley’s desk was the picture of organization. Everything had a label, everything had a place. There were files for completed projects as well as rejected proposals and abandoned drafts. Every star, nebula, planet, and meteor he’d helped craft was carefully catalogued with a hand rendered picture and note from Crowley. Aziraphale wished he had a body to contain the way it made him feel to see Crowley’s literal signature on the stars. As it was, it was too expansive. He worried he might lose himself completely if he dwelled on it for too long.

He wanted to see them all the way that Crowley had. He remembered endless nights spent under an even more endless canopy of stars. They’d promised to go together to see them up close, as soon as Crowley was able. He could go on his own now. It would be as simple as walking out the door. From this department, he could go directly to any star system or heavenly body he so desired. But he didn’t want to, not without Crowley. Heaven would surely relent someday and they could fly to the stars together.

Aziraphale felt a pang where his heart would be if he currently had one. Coming here had not been the balm he’d hoped. He took one last wistful look through a stack of delicately rendered nebulae and filed them back where he’d found them. As he did, his hand bumped the back of the drawer.

“What’s this?”

He pulled the drawer out as far as it would go and palmed at the back panel, which had given a hollow knock when he’d bumped it. The panel gave way. A good quarter of the drawer had been hidden and inside that secret compartment, was a box. It appeared to be made of the same malleable substance that made much of Heaven’s current architecture. In the right angelic hands, it could be formed to whatever was needed, be it stone or glass or, in this case, a box without a seam.

Aziraphale could open it. He felt sure of that much. He felt less sure of whether he should open it. When he held it close he got the same sunshine warm feeling of being near Crowley. He would keep it with him and bask in that feeling until he could hand it over to Crowley when they were reunited. Which they would be. He had to focus on that and be patient.

He patiently went to interdepartmental meetings and patiently did the paperwork that inevitably followed. He patiently explained that, no, he wasn’t interested in any supposed improvements to his corporation and then filled out even more forms. He patiently sat through a lecture on ingesting gross matter. He patiently sat through another lecture when he tried to find a work in the archives that he discovered was stored in Hell. He patiently continued on until finally- finally- the day came when he was issued his corporation and sent back to Earth.

Then Aziraphale decided he had been patient long enough. The moment he set foot on mortal soil once more, he unfurled his wings and set off home. He was beyond the point of caring if it would earn him a reprimand, should a human see him. He tried not to think about how the landscape below had changed in his absence. No matter how much time had passed, he knew Crowley would be out there waiting.

At last, there it was, their little cottage by the coast, still protected by enough wards to keep unnoticed by warring humans and so the same as ever. Within were his books and his bed. There was the smell of apple blossoms that carried on the wind despite the season. And there, wrist deep in dirt was Crowley working the garden. His head was bowed but he looked up when Aziraphale’s wings obscured the sun.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s eyes widened to the shape and nearly the size of two disbelieving moons. “Are you here? Are you really here?”

“I—”

Try as he might, Aziraphale couldn’t get the words out. He worried there was something wrong with his new corporation. It looked the same from the outside and had felt the same from the inside but suddenly his heart was beating far too fast and he couldn’t seem to get enough to air in his lungs. He couldn’t keep his wings sorted. He fell out of the air and right into Crowley’s arms.

“Woah, hey, I’ve got you.” Crowley let out a choked sob and pulled him in for a fierce embrace. “You really are here. Fuck, I thought— you know how many times I dreamed this? I couldn’t get any sleep because it hurt too much to see you and have you not be— to know that you really were— But you’re here. Really here.”

He was. He was there with Crowley. He was back home. Warmth blossomed in Aziraphale’s chest and quickly spread throughout his body, settling his upstart organs as it did. Everything felt right again wrapped in Crowley’s arms. He tucked his wings away so he could be encircled by them completely. 

Physical touch after so long without it was overwhelming. He felt altogether too warm and wanted, freshly aware of breath on the skin of his neck, of Crowley’s scent in his nostrils, and muscles that wanted both to squeeze tight and to let go completely. It seemed like he could very well shake apart but everywhere he trembled, there were Crowley’s hands rubbing delicate, soothing circles. Heaven was… well, Heaven, of course. It couldn’t compare. He wouldn’t dare try. But this was another sort of paradise all its own.

A startlingly pitched whine escaped his throat when Crowley finally took a step back. “Are you alright?” Crowley kept a grip on Aziraphale’s shoulders, as if afraid he would crumple if left to stand on his own. “You haven’t stopped shaking this whole time and you still haven’t said anything.”

He looked so worried and Aziraphale hadn’t a clue how to respond. This was all too much and yet not nearly enough, not by a mile. He looked deep into those beloved eyes. Those were perhaps what he’d missed most of all. Not because they were beautiful, though they certainly were at that, but because of the way they looked back at him. They were so full of bald, unflinching adoration. Even when they bickered, those eyes were never cold. They never held scorn or ridicule. Not for him. He could trust in Crowley because of what he saw in those eyes.

“Your hair is so short.”

Crowly blinked owlishly at him and then bent double with laughter. He had to wipe away tears before he could speak. “Over a decade away and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Oh dear, has it been so long? It’s difficult to keep track up there.”

“Twelve years, six months, and three days. Or something like that. You know, who’s been counting?”

“Oh.” That number stretched out before Aziraphale like an uncrossable void. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things but to miss so much time over paperwork and trudging bureaucracy? “I’m so sorry.”

His knees gave way and he was forced to use Crowley as support. Crowley walked them both toward the low stone wall that encircled the garden. He propped Aziraphale up against it and then perched on top. Sitting there brought his face down the few inches needed for them to look directly eye to eye. He hooked one long finger under Aziraphale’s chin.

“Nothing to apologize for. I know you’d have been back sooner if you could. Why do you think I slithered right around all that red tape when I wanted to come down here?”

He forced a light tone but Aziraphale could still hear the hurt underneath. He felt it himself. There would be no getting back those years. He could only hope that it had been worth it. He’d never received a full explanation for why he’d needed to be in battle in the first place. It was all in the service of the Great Plan. He had to trust that or he would despair.

He took the hand at his chin and pressed his cheek into the palm. His skin still tingled at the newness of touch. “Well, at any rate, I’m profoundly pleased to be back.”

Crowley let out a small puff of laughter. “And I’m profoundly pleased to have you.” He tugged at the short, messily shorn ends of his hair. “You hate the hair though, don’t you? I can grow it back now, if you want.”

Aziraphale shook his head. He reached up and buried his fingers in loose scarlet waves. It only took a moment to run his hands from scalp to tip. “I certainly don’t hate it and I certainly don’t want you to feel you need to change it for me. I’m sorry I said anything about it. I was just surprised. I’ve never seen it so short.”

Crowley’s eyes fell closed. “Well, good you like it because I may never grow it back out if you keep playing with it like that.”

The way Crowley’s whole body was leaning into the touch, Aziraphale wasn’t especially inclined to stop. “What have you been up to this whole time?”

“You know. Things. Might have stirred up a bit of trouble but thought you might not be happy about that so then I did other things. A fair bit of embroidery. Tried to get better at baking. My bread’s not as good as yours but it’s edible at least.”

“You’ve started eating more, then?”

“Eh, more yeah, but doesn’t mean much. Figured I’d do it in your place a bit.  Not sure if I’ll keep it up now you’re back.” Crowley turned his head enough that he was able to catch one of Aziraphale’s wrists with a kiss. “What about you? Do anything interesting up there?”

Aziraphale swallowed a groan before it could escape. He was used to much more but whether it was the time apart or the new corporation, that one light press of lips to skin jumped like a lightning bolt through his arm and right up to his heart. “Nothing— nothing much,” he replied a bit breathlessly. “Oh! I do have something for you. Something of yours.”

“Something… of mine?”

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind that I took it but it’s not like you can. And, well, let me just fetch it.” He dug into the pocket sewn into the inner lining of his cloak and tried to ignore the way his cheeks burned under Crowley’s intense gaze. “Ah, there it is.”

He held out the white box and Crowley took it with trembling hands. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

“I thought it best to let you show me instead of speculating. That is, if you want to show me. It was hidden and I didn’t try to find it but I understand if it’s private.”

“No it’s… it’s fine. You might wanna stand back, though.”

Aziraphale took a step back. “Good?”

“Erm, might want to be further back.”

That seemed ominous. Aziraphale was only just realizing if Crowley had hidden it, it could be some sort of contraband. He hoped it wasn’t anything that would cause either of them trouble. He supposed it was too late, in any case. A vivid blue light bisected the box as the glyph that closed it was undone. The box was eaten by the light and when Aziraphale’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of it, he saw there was a mound of fine, shining powder collected in Crowley’s cupped hands.

“Is that—?”

Crowley’s face was split by an impish, delighted grin. “Yep. Now this is the part you’re going to want to stand back for.”

Those golden eyes which already so reminded Aziraphale of the sun started to truly glow. The powder formed a swirling miasma in the air between Crowley’s outstretched palms. Aziraphale needed to squint out from behind a shielding arm and even then his eyes watered at the brilliance of the light. His heart forgot to beat as, through sheer force of will, Crowley formed a twin pair of stars. They were but an infinitesimal fraction of the true thing, not considerably larger than the pinpricks visible in the night sky, but they were unmistakable for what they were. Despite appearances, there was the distinct impression that they were far larger, that Crowley, too, was larger than his mortal frame should rightly allow. His wings formed a field of stars behind him as they pressed urgently against the fabric of this plane, fighting to come through.

Aziraphale gasped. The sound was enough to shake Crowley from the sort of trance he’d fallen into. “Don’t get too attached to them,” he said, a foreign, rumbling undercurrent to his voice. “I’ve got a plan for these.”

The stars spiralled around each other, closer and closer, until at last they clashed and burst into a miniature supernova. Crowley’s fingers danced around it like he was playing an instrument Aziraphale couldn’t see. Something brilliant was pulled free just before Crowley clapped his hands together.

He smiled sheepishly up at Aziraphale. “You can come back over.”

“Was that stardust? I didn’t think there was any left since, well—” Aziraphale made an expansive gesture.

“‘Let there be light’?” Crowley offered. “Probably isn’t any left, now. It’s not needed to make the new ones. They sorta do that on their own. But I kept a bit. Little souvenir from Rigil Kentaurus and Toliman, which was one of my favorite projects. Probably why Proxima Centauri ended up a little undersized. Oh well. No one else ever noticed.”

There was a buzzing in Aziraphale’s brain in the approximate location where cogent thought usually occurred. “All this time and you used it up now?”

Crowley shrugged with his hands still held tightly together. “Sort of spur of the moment. Wanted to make you something.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed the bent tip of Crowley’s nose. “It was absolutely stunning.”

“Heh, well, I lucked out and had one of the flashier jobs. But that’s not what that was about.” Crowley unfurled his fingers and produced a small golden snake. No, a ring shaped like a snake coiled in on itself. “While you were gone I got to thinking. About you. About being apart. About how we could maybe be together even when— not that I expect you to get killed again or something. Could be me. Or neither of us. Not really what it’s about. And you don’t have to, if you don’t want. Could just be a ring. You don’t even have to wear it. But if you want to...”

Crowley held out the ring. It nearly fell from his fingers with as much as they were shaking. Aziraphale looked at it. Looked at Crowley. He filtered the words through his brain but it felt very much like his brain had gone supernova itself.

“Are you— is this—” Aziraphale tried to take a few steadying breaths but they were immediately transformed into a rather embarrassing bout of tittering. He bit his lip to make it stop. “Crowley, are you asking me to marry you?”

“It’s nothing. A human thing. Do angels even get married? Can they? Whatever. It’s stupid. If you could forget I—”

Aziraphale shut Crowley up with a crushing kiss. If that wasn’t a clear enough answer, he took the ring and held up his hand so that Crowley could see it when he slipped it onto his finger. “I would love to. There isn’t a single thing that I would enjoy more. I only wish…” He took his old ring from his pinky finger and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s not as special but perhaps—”

Crowley snatched the ring and slipped it onto his finger. “S’yours. Can’t think of anything more special.”

“Well then, that’s that.”

“That. Is. That.”

Aziraphale felt like he could fly without even bringing his wings out. What a day. What a glorious, impossible, ineffable day. He realized his face hurt because he was smiling so hard and he was more than happy to let it hurt with the way that smile was reflected back at him on Crowley’s face.

“Should we… see a priest? Or… or something?”

“Nah. Even if they say they’re talking for Her, not like any of them really has authority over us.”

“A fair point. I feel we should do something, all the same.”

He thought about who would possibly have the authority to do such a thing. It was unprecedented, so far as Aziraphale knew. An image drifted through his mind of Gabriel officiating and he felt a tad queasy even imagining it.

“Why not just us?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “The two of us? Marrying ourselves?”

“Sure. Why not? Never been done before so there’s not really anyone to say we can’t. Or if there is, they haven’t thought to say anything about it so that’s on them. So what do you say? Me. You. Something brand new. Our own sort of… Arrangement.”

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “Yes.” When he said it, he felt sure. It seemed a surer choice than any he’d made thus far in his long existence. “Yes,” he repeated.

“Well then… alright. I, uh… If you’ll take me?”

“I said I would and I do. And you?”

“Yes. Yeah. Course I do.”

They clasped hands as the fabric of the world rippled at the shared words of binding divine command.

“Then, shall we seal it with a kiss?”

The words were barely out of Aziraphale’s mouth when Crowley obliged him. It was a brand new body and so, in a way, a whole new first kiss. Unlike that one in Rome, the stars weren’t above but wrapped around their fingers. For that moment while their lips locked together, all of creation obligingly rewrote itself. Heart fell into sync with heart and lungs drew twin breaths. As gold forged from the clash of stars, they were two bound as one and one they would remain, no matter what the future held.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 40

WARNINGS: Profanity

Tagging: @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thorsbathroomchicken​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Billy Flynn is all smiles when she enters the pub's back room; a broad, pleased grin that stretches from ear to ear and shows off his dazzling white teeth.  In normal circumstances...and in the old days...she would have found him attractive and irresistible; on the shorter end of the scale, but stocky and powerful. Broad shoulders and thick neck, an elaborate tattoo travelling from the left side of his collarbone and reaching his wrist. Auburn hair and sensational green eyes. Had she run into him ten years ago, she would probably would have taken the chance; allowing things to cross that dangerously thin line, even if just for one night.  He's dressed casually, yet still well put together. A pair of well fitting jeans and a white t-shirt that seems to be stretching its limits as it struggles to cover his chest, the fabric tight around his biceps. He'd dressed with purpose; not wanting to look too eager to impress, but certain that he'd still be pleasing to the eye. And he moves to greet her, intending to place a hand on her hip and a kiss to her cheek, but then stopping in his tracks when he realizes they're not alone.  And that confident, pleased grin immediately turns into a scowl.

“I'd think twice about that, mate,” Tyler warns, when he sees the hand that's reaching for his wife.

“Who's this?” Billy address Esme, attempting to laugh off the awkwardness of the situation. “Body guard? Big bastard, ain't he?”

“Actually,” she says. “He's my husband.”

His frown deepens, as does the disappointment and the hostility in his eyes. “Thought you said you were separated.”

“I'm not who you think I am.  My name isn't Meghan Young. And I'm not a reporter from Chicago.  I'm actually from Colorado. And my real name is Esme. Esme Rake. And this is my husband. Tyler.”

That frown turns into a knowing smirk. He recognizes the name. “You're the Australian.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says.  “I guess I am.”

“You're the one that's here to help Michael McMann. You have a hell of a lot of balls showing up here.”

“Balls of steel,” Tyler confirms, flashing a smirk of his own.

“You're a gutsy, fucker. I'll give you that. Thought maybe you'd get the message by now.”

“What message is that?”

“We don't appreciate the likes of you coming here and sniffing around. Trying to cause problems. We have nothing to do with McMann's wife and kids. Guy is just trying to stir up shit and he's using you to do it.  Word travels fast in certain circles. I heard the Buckmans sent some folks to fuck you up,” he gestures towards the various injuries; the black eye and the visible stitches at the top of Tyler's brow.  “What does the other guy look like?”

“The same as the other three. Dead.”

“You realize that fucker's been playing you right? I thought the likes of you would be smarter than that. I've heard the stories, Australian. I've heard all about the damage you can cause. Impressive. A guy like you would actually come in handy around these parts. There's lot of people our organization would like to fuck up. And if you're as good as the stories say you are, you'd fit in nicely around here. And we can pay. A lot more than whoever you're working for now is paying you.”

“Not interested. I'm not a terrorist.”

“Bet you all the hundreds upon hundred of blokes you've fucked up over the years would say differently. I bet they were plenty terrorized by you.  You could have a good life here. The pay would be excellent. Your wife and your kids would have a great life. We'd make sure of it.”

“Like I said,” Tyler remains steadfast.  “I'm not interested. And I'm not here to stick my nose in your business. I'm here because I have something you want. And I'm willing to give it to you. For a price.”

“We don't do that kind of business with your type. You walked into the wrong bar, Australian. You best be walking out of it unless you want me to have some of the boys show you out.”

“I'd like to see your boys try, mate. I've dealt with bigger and better than the likes of you. I don't intimate. I don't get scared. I get even. And if you knew what was good for you, you'd shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to offer.”

“I highly doubt you have anything I'd be interested in. Unless you're offering up your pretty little wife here. I'd be more than willing to take her off your hands. For free.”

A brief smirk causes the corner of Tyler's mouth to twitch,  and he takes a step towards the younger, smaller man.  

“We're not here to cause problems,” Esme attempts to diffuse the situation, physically placing herself between the two men. “We're here to talk.”

“Ditch the husband and we can talk all you want, love. I was expecting you show up alone.”

“That was never going to happen,” Tyler says. “You got played, mate. She walked in here and talked her game and sucked you right in. I bet you didn't see that coming, did you. I bet you looked at her and thought she was just some tiny, weak, vulnerable thing you could take advantage of. She fucked you. And not the good, fun type of fucked either. She was never going to walk in here alone. Over my dead body.”

“That could be arranged,” Billy retorts. “There's a lot of people who wouldn't mind taking their shot. I bet it would pay damn good money to kill the likes of you.  The man. The myth. The legend.”

Tyler gives a derisive snort, then takes another step, once more prompting Esme to take action, planting herself between them once more.

“Okay, both of you need to calm the hell down,” she says. “Check the fucking egos, boys. Now is not the time. We just want to talk, Billy. That's it.”

“About what?”

“We have something....or someone... that you want,”  Tyler informs him.

“We can get you Michael McMann,” Esme says. “But there's some things we want in exchange.”

“What kind of things? We're not in the business of working with outsiders, or granting favours to them.”

“Maybe we could sit down and discuss this,” she suggests. “Because I don't know about the two of you, but there's just a little too much tension in this room and I think everyone needs to take a seat and chill the fuck out.  We need to shit can the hostility and be rational, reasonable adults. Being like this...” she gestures between the two men.  “...is not going to solve anything. Billy, this is not a fight you want to get into. Because if you throw that first punch, you won't get another one in. He will end you. No questions asked. And there won't be a goddamn thing you or your boys can do about it.”

“Is this really the hill you want to die on?”  Tyler asks. “Because if it is, you just say the word, mate,  and I'll make it happen.”

The other man finally relents; nodding slowly as he considers the full impact of the consequences he'd face if he did lash out. And he clears his throat noisily and turns away from them, gesturing towards the table that's already been set for dinner, dishes of cold foots and several different choices of beverages on display.  “Can't let this all go to waste now, can we? Some good food and drink always starts a conversation off on the right foot. Join me. Let's talk. Tell me what it is you have and what you think I want.”

****

No one speaks for several minutes; Billy digging eagerly into the food as his guests sit back, watching and waiting.  The tension still hangs in the air, but not with near the same amount of heaviness and discomfort. Esme has spent the majority of her time using a fork to push food around on her plate; an elaborate salad consisting of various types of lettuce, root vegetables, cranberries and almonds a sweet vinaigrette. She'd felt hungry; needing to get something into her nervous and relatively empty belly. But the second it was on her plate and the sight and the smell hit, any and all appetite and desire went straight out the window. And when Tyler feels her leg begin to shake nervously against his,  he presses a tender, soothing kiss to her temple, then briefly lays a comforting hand on her thigh before getting up to pour her a glass of ice water from the pitcher in the middle of table.

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Billy address him.  “There's lot to go around. Saoirse is a fantastic cook. One of the best in Belfast. If not the entire country.”

“I'm fine,” Tyler says.

“Something to drink? I've got it all. Anything you could possibly want. You want beer, I got beer. I've got best single malt scotch in all of Ireland. And some pretty good rye and rum.  Pick your poison.”

“I'm fine,” Tyler insists. “I'm not here to break bread with you, mate. This isn't a social visit. So how about we cut the shit and get down to business? I don't want you wasting my time. And I'm sure you don't want me wasting yours.”

“You've been wasting it since you walked in here,” Billy says. “You have a hell of nerve, Australian. Thinking you can just walk in here and make demands. Threaten people.”

“I haven't even gotten started. You want demands? I've got demands. You want threats? Well I have loads of those too. Only difference between you and me is that I follow through on my threats. And call me Australian one more time, and I'll knock your teeth so far down your throat, someone is going to have to go up your ass to remove them.”

Esme noisily clears her throat; sipping at her water as she shifts nervously beside him.

“Strictly business,” Billy smirks. “I've heard that about you. That you don't fuck around. That you like to get in, get your hands dirty, and get the hell out.  And you've fucked a lot of shit up...a lot of people up, if the stories are to be believed. I've heard you have quite the temper. That you're pretty damn savage. Brutal. Merciless.”

“Only if I have to be. And if you keep fucking me around like this, you're going to see just how bad it can get. So about we just get right down to it. No more games. Because I'm not in the mood to be fucked around with.”

“Fair enough,” Billy says. “I like that about you. You don't take anyone's shit.  You call people out on their crap.  I respect that. Like I've already said, you'd be a good addition to the family. We need someone like you to go in and fuck shit up. Someone that can intimidate but won't be intimidated. You sure you're not ready to move on to bigger and better things? Because we'd make it worth your while.”

“I already said I'm not interested. I don't care how good you make things sound or how much you can offer me. You people are the last ones I'd ever get mixed up with. Now do you want McMann or not?”

“We'd already have him if we wanted him.”

“Bullshit. He's gone deep underground, mate.  He knows how to hide. And he knows how to stay hidden. The IRA taught him that. He's out there. And he's got all the IRA's secrets. All the skeletons in the closet. He's just biding his time. He's going to sit back and wait and then when you least expect it, he's going to blow shit up.  You don't have him because you can't find him.  No matter how hard you poke around.”

“And you think you can? Find him?”

“I don't need to find him. I already know where he is. All I have to do is call him and arrange to meet with him. That'll get him out of hiding right quick.”

“You think he'll come running just because you say so?”  Billy smirks. “What makes you think you're so goddamn special?”

“I don't think he'll come running. I know he will.  I just killed four of his men. I just uncovered all his dirty little secrets I know him and his wife are the ones that planned all of this; staging her abduction, taking the kids, trying to pin it all on you and get me here to cause all kinds of shit.  He knows I know all of it. He knows I can blow the whole fucking thing wide open and make things a hell of a lot worse for him.”

“So why don't you?” the other man inquires. “Why don't you make things a hell of a lot worse for him?”

“I'm already in the process of doing that, mate. You're not the only one I'm working with.”

“Let's get this straight...Australian..Rake...we are not working together. We...the IRA...we don't work with outsiders.”

“But you'll want to this time,” Esme speaks up. “You'd be stupid not to.”

Billy smirks. “Love, your really nice to look at, but this is a man's conversation so...”

“Don't fucking talk to her like that,” Tyler's voice is low but menacing. Eyes dark.  Jaw tight.  “Don't ever talk to my wife like that. You don't disrespect her. You don't talk down to her. You don't order her around. Because you try it again, and I will hand you your ass, understand me?”

The other man blinks at the vehemence in his voice, then nods.

“McMann wants me dead,” Tyler says.  “And not just 'cause I figured out his dirty secret and  I fucked up four of his guys.  That just made it worse. He's wanted me dead for a while now.  Someone hired him. To come after me. He was supposed to get the job done in Guatemala three weeks ago but one of my guys found out what he was up to and put a stop to it.”

“Who'd you piss off?” Billy inquires. “Who hired him?”

“Five years ago,  I killed someone that was going to hurt my wife.  This guy's brother found out about and figured he needed payback.”

“You did the right thing though. You were protecting your girl.  Any man would do that. Any real man, anyway.”

“Well the brother doesn't think so. He managed to land a job with the people I work for and dig up all kinds of shit on me. Personal stuff. My wife's name, where we live, my kids' names and where they go to school.”

Billy scowls. “That's one fucking line that should never be crossed. Bringing a woman and kids into things. I've got a kid of my own. A boy.  I'd kill any bastard that so as much looks at him the wrong way. How many do you have? Kids?”

“Four.,” Tyler says. “A little girl, twin boys, and a tenth month old boy. And there's one on the way.  So you can understand even more why I need to protect my family. Why I need to protect my wife.”

“I do.  And congratulations. A baby's always good news that deserves to be celebrated.  So he's after your family? Your kids. McMann?”

“He's concentrating on killing me, but he's sent people after my kids. He sent the Buckmans. Or people associated with them. They've been sending pictures to the house; of my kids, my wife. Letting me know that they'd been watching them and they know where to find them. And they showed up. At my house. So needless to say, I'm a little fucking pissed.”

“Rightfully so,” Billy says. “I'd be ready to kill the bastard too. But the Buckmans? How...?”

“They're working together,” Esme speaks up. “They've been working together from the very beginning. McMann made it seem like the Buckmans were solely responsible. To throw everyone off his scent. But they're both in on it. And they've been using those kids. In the worst possible way. And for that alone they need to be punished. Can you imagine a parent being that sick and twisted? Could you imagine someone doing that to your boy?”

“I'd kill him,” Billy declares. “With no hesitation.  So this was all some big game?” he asks Tyler. “Just to get to you?”

“When he couldn't kill me in Guatemala, he came to Colorado. And he brought this big bullshit story about needing me to find his wife and his kids.  And he's good. Really good. Because I fell for it. He sucked me right in and now look where I am. Stuck in this fucking mess. He thought he'd get me here and I'd cause all kinds of shit with you people and it would be the IRA that would end up killing me and...”

“We thought about,” Billy admits.  “When we found out you were here working with that prick. Then when we heard what you did to his boys the other day, we called it off. Made us think maybe you weren't on his side after all. Now I now you're not. If everything you're telling me is true.”

“I wouldn't bullshit about this, mate. Not when my wife and my kids are involved.  If he'd just come after me, that would have been one thing. But he's sent people to my house. He knows that's what makes me vulnerable; my family. And he knew I'd come here to save a couple kids. That I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't find them and get them the hell out of there. He knows my one, true weakness and he's exploiting the shit out of it.”

“And you'd be willing to just cough him up? Let us have him?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“What you'd be willing to offer me in exchange. I'll give him to you, but I've got some demands. Some things that I want. And I won't hand him over unless you agree to them.”

Billy leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his neck.  “Well let's hear them, Rake. Let's see if it's worth my time getting involved.”

“I will give you McMann and the Buckmans if you send people to watch over my kids. If you can get a couple or a few guys to keep an eye on things. They're in Nebraska. Safe. With someone I trust. But we both know that's not going to stop these people.  That they're going to track them down and find them, no matter how well they hide. I know how badly the Buckmans have pissed off the IRA.  I know you guys want them just as much as you want McMann. So kill two birds with one stone; protect my kids, and hit the Buckmans where it hurts.”

“And you can get him? McMann? You're sure?”

“No doubt in my mind. He wants me dead. He's tried twice now. Fucked it up both times. What's the saying? Third time's the charm? If I call him and say we need to meet to discuss things, if I tell him I'm about to blow shit up and cause him a world of hurt, he'll show up.”

“And if he brings people with him? You know he won't show up alone. He doesn't have the balls to go toe to toe with you. He knows he'd lose. So he brings a bunch of guys with him and then what? You have to fight your way out of that? You're good, but you're not that good.”

“I wouldn't be going into this alone. I have people that will watch my back and get involved if they need to. But if I can get him there alone, I can handle him myself. I won't kill him. Even though I want to. I'll let you guys do that.”

“And all you want is for us to keep an eye on your kids?”

Tyler nods. “That's all I want. That's all that matters. You keep an eye on my kids while I go and find McMann's.”

Billy sighs, then leans forward to pick up his stein; taking a long sip of his lager.  “You realize I can't make this decision on my own, right? I can't just tell you here and now that we're in on this. There's people above me.  With more power. They're the ones that have to make the decision on whether we want to be part of this or not.”

“I understand that, mate. But you can be the person that goes to them and convinces them that this needs to be done.  Because I know you want to do it. You're a father, just like me. And I know you'd do anything in your power to protect your boy.”

“That I would,” he agrees.

“I've got to get those kids. McMann and his wife are letting this happen. They're behind it. What's going on with those kids is very real and it's fucking twisted and sick and I need to get them the fuck out of there before it gets even worse.  But I can't do that if I need to go home and protect my own.”

“If it was up to me, if I had the final say, I would do it,” Billy admits. “In a heartbeat.  But I'm just one guy. And you need more than just one guy.  I'm going to need some time.  A couple days. Four at the most. To get everyone together that I need to get. Are you kids safe? For the time being?”

“There with someone I trust,” Tyler says.  “And I don't trust many people.”

“I'll contact who I need to contact. But if anything gets worse...if even more shit goes down...and your kids suddenly aren't safe any more, you get a hold of me right away and I'll round up a couple buddies and we'll go there ourselves.  Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees.

“In the meantime, you keep yourself alive. Maybe even have a little fun at our friend McMann's expense.”

Tyler grins. “I plan to.”

*****

“It wasn't a stereotype,” Esme comments, her voice sleepy. “It really does rain here a lot.”

It's shortly before midnight as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty, naked limbs.  The windows open; a stiff breeze fluttered the curtains, the rain strong and steady as it beats against both the cement and the metal of the balcony.  Both are sated and spent; three rounds of intense love making and many orgasms (on her part), his back covered in deep, near bloody fingernail gouges, bite marks on his shoulders and collarbone.  All the frustration and aggression and eventual relief being released in the way they know best.

“Makes my fucking head hurt,” Tyler mumbles as he lays on his left side; his face in her hair, a leg draped over hers, and a hand resting just below her breasts. “All the rain.”

“Well look on the bright side. Pain means something still exists up there between your ears.”

He chuckles, then nips at the nape of her neck.  “Fuck you, Esme.”

“You just did. Three times. What more do you want?”

“I dunno. What's our record? For one night?”

“Five. Five and a half actually. I'd say six but you came before I did the last time and we both know that only counts as half.”

He frowns. “That's some bullshit.”

“I'm sorry, I don't make the rules. It is what it is, Tyler. It does not count as a full number if you get to come first.”

“It counts if I go back and get you off. That makes up for the half point. You can't tell me it doesn't. Why wouldn't it count? It counts.”

“No. It doesn't.  Once you lose that half point, you can't get it back. It doesn't matter how hard you try or if you're successful at it.  It doesn't count. You won't convince me otherwise. So don't argue about this. This is a war you will not win.”

“Who makes these rules? I want to see the instructions for this game. Because we're not playing it the same.”

“Everyone knows that's the rule. Everyone. Just because you're asleep at the wheel...”

“It makes no fucking sense that it doesn't count if I go back and finish things off. Explain to me how it doesn't count. Because it counts.”

“There's a time frame you have to finish things in.”

“Says who?”

“The people who make the rules. For fuck sakes Tyler, get your shit together.”

“But who makes the rules? Who are these people?”

“Women whose husbands have the goddamn bloody nerve to come first, that's who.”

He groans in exasperation. “That's only happened twice in five and a half years and you know it.”

“It doesn't matter. It still happened so you still have to follow the rules.”

“Listen, I went back and got the job done. So it fucking counts and that's the end of it. That makes it six.”

“Ughhh...” she moans dramatically. “...you aren't playing by the rules, Tyler James.”

“Fuck your rules,” he chuckles, and she likes the way the noise rumbles deep within his chest, reverberating against her back. “I don't want to play this game anymore.”

“Well I'm sorry if it upsets your delicate sensibilities but that is the rules. It does not count as a full point unless you go back and finish things off in a certain time frame.”

“What's the time frame?””

“Forty five seconds to a minute. You took one minute and ten seconds. So sorry. It does not count.”

“Now you're just changing the rules to suit what you want. You're not playing fair. At all.”

“Do you want to phone a friend? Like on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Because your friends are going to say the same thing because they also have to play by the rules.”

“I'll take 'who is being an unreasonable bitch for two hundred, Alex'.”

“That's Jeopardy. Oh my God. How did I ever marry you? Like what was I thinking? You can't follow the rules, you can't keep your pop culture references correct and in order, you leave dirty socks and underwear in front of the hamper instead of putting them in it, you leave the toilet seat up in the middle of the night...”

“You married me for other reasons.”

“Yeah? Like what? Give me three.”

“I'm tall and I can reach the stuff on the high shelves and you don't need to get a step stool.”

“Okay, I'll agree to that one.”

“I don't mind killing the spiders and all the bugs you say are gross.”

“Hmmm...yeah...you can have that.”

“I have a big dick and I know how to use it.”

She sighs dreamily. “Yes. Yes you do. On both counts.  Fine. You win. I'll give you that extra half point. It's six now.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don't ever say I never do anything nice for you. Because if it gets out that I gave you that half point, I will lose my bitchy wife card and I don't want to give it up.”

“You get to keep your bitchy wife card,” he assures her. “I'll keep my annoying, pain the ass husband card.”

“You may be an annoying pain in the ass, but you're my annoying pain in the ass,” she declares, and looks over her shoulder at him, smiling as he pecks her lips.  “No one elses annoying, pain in the ass. Mine.”

“I'm all yours, babe. All yours.”

“Good,” she says with a content sigh, and then places her hand over his, entwining their fingers together.  And she feels the soft tickle of his lashes against the back of her neck as he closes his eyes. “Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me that you're not going alone to meet McMann tomorrow.”

“I already told you, Mark and his guys will be there.”

“Like there, there as in right there, or...”

“Less than a hundred yards away. I'll be wearing a wire; they'll be able to hear everything that's going on. One of them will be acting as a sniper, just in case.”

“I'd feel better if I went with you.”

“What are you going to do that they can't do? They aren't rookies. They know what they're doing. And I'd feel better if you weren't with me.”

“Well that's...rude.”

“I don't mean it like that. If something happens, I don't want you being there. I don't want anything happening to you. Or little bean...” he moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “...I don't want to lose either of you.”

“And I don't want to lose you.  We just found out about the baby. I kind of want him or her to actually meet you.”

“Her,” he says. “It's a her.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

“I had a dream the other night. That we had another baby. That it was a girl.”

“Are you just saying that because you know I'm sick of all the testosterone in the house, or...”

“Nope. It's true.  I had a dream that we were in Australia. And we took the kids to the ocean for the first time. And there was another baby. A girl.”

“What did she look like?”

“You. She had your hair and your eyes. And she was tiny. Way smaller than all the rest have been.”

“Hmm...” she runs her thumb along the top of his hand.  “...how did that make you feel?”

“How did what make me feel?”

“Having a girl. Having another daughter.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I was fine with it. Why wouldn't I be? It's a baby. That we made together. I don't care if it's a boy or girl.”

“After Millie, you wanted a son,” she points out.

“Well...yeah....every guy wants a son. At least one.  I ended up with three. So I'm fine with a girl. You know it doesn't matter to me. As long and you and the baby are okay, that's all I care about. And that  is exactly why I don't want you coming with me tomorrow. Just in case things do go to shit.  That way neither of you can get hurt.”

“I don't exactly want you getting hurt either.”

“Baby...” he lifts his head from his pillow, then presses his lips against her temple before resting his cheek against hers. “..I'm going to be fine.”

“I thought you were going to be fine three days ago, but...”

“That's different. We didn't know what McMann was up to yet. Now we know and now I have people watching my back. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I promise.”

“You know how many times in the past five and a half years you've told me nothing bad is going to happen to you and something bad has happened to you?” she challenges.

“So maybe I should use reverse psychologically from now on? Say that something bad is going to happen and then the opposite happens?”

“That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works. But look at you go! Using big words like reverse psychology.”

“You know what, you can be a real bitch sometimes,” he teases, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“But you love me.”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes I do.”

She smiles and turns towards him, his hand settling on the small of her back, lips against her forehead.  “I love you, Tyler. So much it hurt sometimes.”

“I don't want it to hurt.”

“It's a good hurt, though. It's not the kind of hurt that comes with a broken heart or anything like that. It's a hurt that reminds me that I'm still alive. That you're still alive.  That we've been through so much together.  Yet we're still here. Still working on things. Every day. We don't give up on it. Or each other.”

“I already told you. I'm in this for the long haul. You can't get rid of me that easy.”

“I don't want to get rid of you,” she says. “Ever.”

“Good,” he grins, and drops a kiss on her head before pulling her even tighter against her. “'Cause I think I'll keep you around.”

“Are you still planning on trading me in for two thirty olds when you turn sixty?”

“No. I've changed it to three twenty year olds,” he teases. “Hey, if you can have your rules, I can have mine.”

“I don't like your rules. Fuck you and your rules.”

“Fuck me, huh? Is that an offer?”

“I don't know. How lucky are you feeling?”

He grins. “I'm feeling like I could beat the number six.”

[pastelwitchling]

I don’t know. Leave me alone.

***

               The stench of cows did nothing to cool the fire in Michael’s gut or his burning muscles, aching to hold someone.

               Well, he thought, not just someone.

               And as fate would have it, the only someone he had ever wanted was beside him, soaked to the bone just as he was, leaning against the now closed barndoor, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

               “Stop it,” Alex said without looking at him.

               Michael did not deny he’d been staring, and with effort, he looked away.

               “Damn it,” Alex muttered.

               Michael cursed, too, though in that moment, he didn’t know whether he meant it, or whether he wanted to desperately thank whatever part of the universe decided to crash Michael’s truck on the trip back to Roswell, to bring on the storm that forced them into the barn, to have this little voyage be the only one that Valenti incidentally couldn’t attend.

               But since before he’d woken up, Michael had had Alex on his mind, and as much as he wanted to give in to whatever heat was pooling in his gut, whatever desire was urging every fiber in his cell to push ahead and wrap his arms around Alex and kiss the airman senseless, Michael couldn’t help but think that as long as Alex refused him, this was the most elaborate form of torture he could ever suffer.

               “I’m going to go over there,” Alex said, gesturing to the back of the barn. “Don’t follow me.”

               “Believe it or not, you’re not that irresistible, Private,” Michael said, thinking of nothing but the way Alex’s shirt clung to his body, the way his nipples poked through the flannel, the way the water rolled down his strong neck, his hands, his cheekbones.

               “Good,” Alex said, then began peeling his clothes off.

               Michael’s eye twitched. “What’re you doing?”

               “Trying not to get hypothermia,” Alex said. “You?”

               “U-uh,” Michael swallowed. “You uh – you think I should –”

               Alex stilled. “I thought you couldn’t get sick.”

               “Not if I have acetone on me,” Michael shrugged. “Which I don’t.”

               Alex’s shoulders deflated. “Just turn away, we can keep our backs to each other.”

               “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

               “What’re you thinking about right now?” Alex asked like he already knew, and wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

               “I don’t know, the storm, the smell in here, the –”

               “Guerin, I know about the planet alignment thing, what’re you thinking about?”

               You. Michael almost said. Alex beneath him, Alex’s body against his, Alex’s hands on his chest, his stomach, his cock. Alex, Alex, Alex.

               “Fine,” Michael ended up saying, and turned his back to Alex. When the two were out of their clothes, they sat down, Michael’s knees pulled up to his chest.

               “You okay?” he asked after a while. “Does your leg hurt?”

               “It’s a little stiff,” Alex confessed. “It’s the cold.”

               Michael raised a brow. “You know, body heat is –”

               “No.”

               Michael looked over his shoulder, and instantly regretted it. Alex’s back was turned to him, but he was most definitely naked. The muscles in his back clenched, his ass cheeks rested on his own jacket, his right leg stretched out as he rubbed his thigh roughly.

               Alex’s shoulders suddenly tensed. He glanced over, and he met Michael’s eyes for barely a second before he turned away. “Stop, Guerin!”

               Michael whipped around, his hand on his chest. “It’s not like I’m touching you, Alex.”

               “I don’t care, I don’t want you looking at me, and imagining whatever the hell you’re imagining while you’re on some kind of galactic high!” he snapped.

               Michael smirked humorlessly. It hurt, hearing Alex talk like that to him, as if he couldn’t imagine anything worse than Michael touching him, kissing him, just being with him.

               “You didn’t used to feel like that,” he said before he could help himself.

               For a moment, Alex didn’t speak, and Michael was worried he’d upset him too much, that Alex had just gotten sick of his yearning, of his wanting the airman. Then –

               “I don’t want you to want me when you’re like this.”

               Michael frowned, and he looked over at Alex. “You think I want you because the planets told me to?”

               Alex shook his head. “I think you’re not completely in your right mind,” he said finally.

               “Private, you know it’s not the planets,” he said, and he hoped Alex could read him as well as he always did. You know it’s not the planets that are making me want you, you know I don’t need the planets, you know I’ve never needed the planets.

               And Michael thought Alex did understand. But still, he curled in deeper on himself, and he said, “Just stop, Guerin.”

               “Alex –”

               “Stop.”

               And as Michael stared at the muscles on his back, at the way his nails dug into his arms, Michael realized with a vile taste in the back of his throat that Alex just didn’t believe him. Alex didn’t believe that Michael still loved him, that he’d ever loved him. Not after everything that had happened.

               Michael stood before he could register what he was doing.

               “Guerin,” Alex turned away from him with a sigh. “Go away, I’m serious.”

               Michael knelt behind him, his hands gentle on his arms, and to his relief, Alex’s muscles went pliant beneath his touch. That was when Michael realized that Alex had never wanted Michael away, but had needed him to be.

               Michael pressed a hot, open kiss to the crook of Alex’s neck, then his shoulder.

               “G-Guerin, please –”

               “I want to make you feel good,” Michael breathed against Alex’s cold skin. “I want to feel you, Alex. Every part of you.”

               Alex was shaking his head, his voice hoarse. “I…”

               “But I won’t,” Michael said, and with great difficulty, forced himself back. “When this damn alignment is over,” he finished his words in a whisper against Alex’s ear, “I’m coming for you, Private.”

               Michael’s fingers curled into trembling fists as he stood, and Alex suddenly took hold of his wrist. His fingers slid down to hold Michael’s which made the shaking stop. Alex held Michael’s gaze as he pulled his hand to his lips and kissed his fingers once.

               He let go, and Michael nearly stumbled as he stepped away. He wanted, more than anything, to fall to his knees in front of Alex, and take the airman hard, soft, gently, roughly, in every way that will mark Alex as his. But he knew that if he did, Alex would only wonder if Michael really wanted it. He would have that nagging doubt in the back of his mind at every thrust, every breath, every whispered, I love you, which Michael was more than willing to give. And he wanted Alex to love it as much as he would.

               Turning away from the airman, Michael took a seat on his wet jacket, his chin rested on his knee. If he closed his eyes, the sound of the rain fell into the background, and he could hear Alex’s soft breathing cut through the storm to him, reminding him that he was there.

***

It sucks, I know. I feel like there’s definitely a regression of any writing ability I may have once had, but I’m feeling very meh these days, so I hope you can all be patient with me.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 13

I finished my paperwork about an hour after I’d given Clay his farewell gift, and I wasn’t surprised to see none of the fantastic fiery five were in the cafe when I left my office.  Checking in with Keli, who was about to leave for the day, making sure that Erin had everything under control and that the pastry case was being kept looking aesthetically pleasing, I was about to take the extra cash to the back to prepare the daily deposit when a voice broke into my concentration.

“Little Charlotte Ramble, is that you?”  Looking up, I felt the urge to scream.  Seriously?  Standing in front of the register, looking far too put together to make me feel comfortable, was one of Walter’s closest friends.  Shit.

I managed to swallow a sigh that was building up as long suffering, and plastered my generic customer service smile on my face.  “Alex Xavier,” I took a glance around him trying to see if his twin Matthew was hiding nearby.  Where there was one, usually there were two.  “When did you get back in town?”  Honest to God, was this the year from Hell?  

He smiled, and I knew that there were some idiotic women who found his type strangely irresistible.  Weird, because to me he looked like he put more effort into his image than I had the fucking patience to do for myself.  And his brother was the same way, identical down to their toe nail length I’d bet.  

“I wanted to come see how the investigation into the arson of my building was coming along.”  His building?  FUCK.  “I’ve learned that you weren’t home that evening, strange, since rumor has it you aren’t exactly the social butterfly, Charlotte.”  Don’t roll your eyes, I told myself, don’t do it.

I really fucking hoped that my smile hadn’t slipped.  “Not a lot of dating opportunities on the ground, Alex.  A girl has to take the offers when they come.”  Sure, Charlotte, build up the fact that you’re a dating dud.  “I didn’t know you owned that building.”  

Alex’s smile had stayed put, fucker.  “Well, Matt and I owned it, but now it’s a complete loss.”  He fixed the black glove on his left hand, and I wanted to ask who brought the Michael Jackson look back, but kept myself in check.  “Are you absolutely certain that you saw nothing, that you haven’t seen any new suspicious people?” 

“I am positive I didn’t see anything.”  I didn’t break eye contact, I didn’t flinch or fidget.  “As for a complete loss, surely you had insurance.”  Not mentioning new people at all.  

“Insurance that is held up by an arson investigation,” aside from the adjustment to his glove he didn’t show any distress, and the glove was no doubt simply out of its perfect placement.  “Charlotte, I’m sure you know how it is, since Davey and George have you keeping this place up and running.”  

“I hadn’t even considered that,” non-committal, not budging.  “I really wish I had a way to help you out, but I’m positive you wouldn’t want me to LIE to the police so the insurance pays out.”  

“Of course not.”  He scoffed.  “I think that you may know more than you think, after all, this is THE spot for coffee and I’ve heard great things about the pastries.”

I raised an eyebrow and wondered who was buttering up my image.  “Would you care for a cup?  I’ll even toss in a sweet treat of your choosing.”  He said nothing, simply studied me.  

“Perhaps another time,” Alex let out a long suffering sigh, I knew it well since I had been holding back my own for weeks now.  “If your memory-”

“The police will be the first to know,” I assured him, but he stopped me and handed me a plane white business card with a phone number on it.  

“I think I want to be the first to know,” without another word, he walked away.

What the literal hell?

I didn’t have any more visitors surprise me for the rest of the day.  And I’d also never felt like I couldn’t wait for a day to end with so much fucking yearning.  Clay and the others off to who knew where, my dad popping in like he did it every fucking day, and then Alex offering me his weird minimalist card.  Seriously, I couldn’t remember a time that I was so fucking happy to say goodbye to my employees, lock the damn door, and go upstairs to take the longest hottest fucking bath that my skin could stand.  

What’s that saying?  There’s a calm before the storm?  Well, I was pretty fucking certain that the storm had started, and I was already tired of the rain.