#um so i sort of said to michael oh well it is overwhelming and i wasn't expecting to sit right at the front

[deeisace]

Alright. Train home.

I've run out of tags so I best shut up before I cry (again)

[halloweenbitch2764]

I can request a scenario in which the reader is rescued by the police or by someone who cares about her and thinks she is saving from the Slachers (Brahms, Jason, Michael, Vincent, Bo and another killer of her choice).

What would happen next, would the Slachers go after their reader and bring them home with them? Would the Slachers cause a massacre with people who cross your path, perhaps?

((Note: S / O is not a victim or hostage of the Slashers, but his girlfriend)).

Absolutely! Thank you for the request and patience! I think family/friends will work better in these situations so I hope you don't mind! Also I'm gonna skip Michael because I can't come up with anything for him and the other scenarios are super long. I hope it makes up for it <3

TW: Violence

F/N: Friends Name

Brahms Heelshire

It had definitely taken some getting used to when it came to living with Brahms

Between the HUGE mansion and the man himself

But you adapted into the role and settled in relatively well

However, you dropped contact with outside people quite suddenly

The cell reception had became increasingly worse and the landline phone had finally given out

When you tried to leave Brahms would insist on you staying

Which left your brother quite worried (pretend if you don't have one)

After multiple failed call attempts he decided to visit the address you had given him after accepting the job

He continued to try and call once he landed

Sure he'd be annoyed if you answered but would be happy you even did

However you didn't

So he made his way out to the mansion and parked in front of you

You were busy doing some cleaning and hadn't heard the car door slam shut

Brahms did though

A knock rang from the front door and you answered it, seeing your brother in front of you

You were confused and questioned why he was there

"You haven't been answering ANY of my calls. What the hell happened?" He seemed more concerned than angry

You knew Brahms would have heard him by now and one major rule was "no visitors"

Your stomach dropped

"Oh, um. The cell reception here is garbage and I haven't had time to get a new landline." You partially lied

"Well I'm glad you're safe. Mom wanted me to stay for a few days if that would be alright. I hate to invite myself but you know how mom is."

Your stomach sank further

"U-Uh actually, I'm not allowed to have visitors stay. Really not supposed to have anyone stay at all."

He raised his eyebrow. "Aren't you just watching some doll? Come on, Y/N you gotta be lonely. This place seems huge."

"Just go back home and tell mom I'm fine. I'm gonna be here till my job is done. Okay?" You wanted to make him leave without worrying him or him seeing Brahms

However, you noticed his eyes shift behind you and then widen

Oh fuck

"Go. Home." You told him but he didn't have to be told twice, already halfway to his car

You turned around to see Brahms behind you and you figured his size was enough to scare your brother

You just hoped he wouldn't tell your mom what really happened

Jason Voorhees

You had been at Camp Crystal Lake with Jason for quite a bit before anyone came to see if you were there

Cell reception was basically nonexistent so you hadn't had contact with the world since you had decided to stay with Jason

Your sister (pretend if you don't have one) remembered how much you loved Crystal Lake though and wondered if maybe you had ran away to the abandoned and dilapidated cabins

You were just taking a walk when your heard a female voice screaming your name

You instantly knew who's voice it was

You hoped Jason hadn't heard, scared of what he would do to her for trespassing

You ran towards the voice and you thought your sister was going to faint when she saw you coming towards her

"Y/N?" She almost didn't seem to believe you were right in front of her

"Hey dork, what's up?" You asked, trying to seem casual

"What's up?" She seemed stunned and then angry. "What do you mean 'what's up'?! You ran away and then just act as if nothing happened?!"

"Hey keep it down. Look, I'm sorry. I just was tired of everything and decided to see if I could stick it out here by myself for a while. I'm trying to renovate an old cabin to make a sort of house and I don't want ANYONE knowing where I am." The whole story was pretty much a lie. "I was just so overwhelmed with everything I needed a getaway. Don't tell anyone where I am. Please?"

She was silent as she processed everything. "What about Jason? Isn't he supposed to kill anyone who lives here or roams here?" She was almost positive the whole story of Jason wasn't real but she was still curious

"Well I mean. I'm still intact so I'm gonna say he doesn't exist." You lied.

She nodded a bit. "I've just been so worried about you. Just...try and let me know you're okay ever so often. Alright?"

You nodded and she headed back for her car

Once she was out of sight you started to head back to the cabin only to bump into Jason's chest

You jumped slightly in surprise, not having heard him sneak up and explained that she was your sister

He nodded before bringing you back to the cabin

Vincent Sinclair

You were sitting silently in the woods with Vincent as a victim made their way into the small town, pulling into the gas station

You were fairly far away and hidden by the foliage but you recognized who stepped out of the car

He had papers in his hand with large red letters spelling "MISSING" on the top and your face under it

It was your friend

Well he thought of himself as your friend

You didn't mind him but he would act obsessive towards you, wanting to hang out as much as possible and even interjecting himself into conversations you were having

You knew he had good intentions but couldn't help but feel annoyed just by his presence

He walked into the gas station, likely to ask about you

You knew what would happen

Vincent seemed to notice how closely you looked at the guy

It was different from past victims

"Who's that?" He signed

"An old...friend of mine. Well, he thought we were friends. He got on my nerves." You signed back

Vincent nodded a bit as you continued, "He had a thing for me I think. He was obsessed to say the least."

Jealousy started to come over him at what you said even though he knew you didn't return the feelings

He'd make sure he wasn't made into a wax figure

Just tortured and then disposed of

Bo Sinclair

You leaned against the gas station counter as Bo worked in the garage as per usual

You were fairly sure it would just be another normal day

Nobody coming to bother you

However a car pulled up and parked by a gas pump, shutting off as someone stepped out

No

No it couldn't be

Your old friend

You hadn't spoken to her in years

She still looked the same

You didn't know if you hoped she wouldn't recognize you or that she would

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as she pushed the door opened but stopped in her tracks as her eyes scanned your face

"Y/N?"

You reluctantly nodded and stood up, walking out from behind the counter

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled you into a hug to which you returned

"I-I can't believe this. We all thought you were dead!" Emotions swirled rapidly through her voice. Pain, excitement, nostalgia

"What?" You asked, confused

"I've missed you so much." She held you by your shoulders. "I didn't even mean to come here. I made a wrong turn and then was gonna come ask for directions."

Well that sounded oddly familiar

"Well I'm glad to see you. I'm alright. Just uh, decided to live here. I like how secluded it is." She turned to look at the side door to the garage as it was pushed open and Bo entered the room.

"Well hello there." He said in his normal charming accent, greeting your friend and seeing her as a victim. "Who might you be?"

"Oh this is F/N, she's been friends with me since we were in school."

He nodded a bit and she raised her eyebrow. "Well who's this Y/N?" She smirked

"This is Bo. He's my boyfriend. He works in the mechanics shop." You told her

She nodded and smiled.

"Well have a look around if you want any snacks. I gotta help Bo with something in the garage." You lied, tugging him into the garage and shutting the door behind you

"Do NOT hurt her." You sternly said and he raised his eyebrow

"I can't risk her telling people about this town." He responded.

"She doesn't even know what this town is. I think she missed the sign." You told him and he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose

"She could be lying."

You shook your head. "She won't tell anyone."

You walked back out and smiled at her, taking her money to pay for her snack

"You didn't see me okay?" She raised her eyebrow

"Some things happened that I don't want to get into right now but I can't go back for a while. Just let them think I'm dead and move on. Okay?" She nodded after a moment

"Have a safe trip." You said sweetly, giving her one last hug before she left

[tootiredmotel]

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

[ev-pierce-writes]

Quantum Entanglement

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 6.4k (oops)

Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)

Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.

Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.

AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.

---

There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.

As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.

So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.

He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.

And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.

"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.

You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."

"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.

"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."

Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."

"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.

"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.

Steve nodded. "Just moved here."

"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."

You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.

So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.

The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.

Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.

Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.

"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."

You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.

"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."

"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."

"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."

You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.

"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.

But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.

When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.

As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.

Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.

"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."

"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."

You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.

"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."

He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.

"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."

Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"

Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."

He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.

"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."

Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.

Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.

"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.

You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"

Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.

"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."

You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?

But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.

It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.

And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.

But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.

It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.

At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.

"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"

"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"

The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.

You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?

"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"

Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.

You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.

"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"

Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.

"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.

"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.

"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.

You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.

He waited for your instruction.

"Undress me."

He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.

Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.

"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.

"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"

There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."

You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.

You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."

Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.

"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."

Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.

"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.

"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.

Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.

Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.

"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."

"No, definitely not."

"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."

"Where?" he teased.

"Everywhere, big man."

Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.

Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.

Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.

"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.

He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.

And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.

Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.

"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"

"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."

"Kiss me, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am."

He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.

You gasped. "Oh, God."

Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.

"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.

"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.

You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."

"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.

"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"

"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."

Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."

"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.

"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."

The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.

But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.

"Tell me what you need, darling."

"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."

Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.

"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."

You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.

When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.

He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[gophergal]

Hooooo Boy! This took longer to write than I though, but with the help of @bucketofcowboys ​ , I did it! (Encouragement from @bisexual-horror-fan was also a major motivator) enjoy this second chapter <3

I’m Not Lonely - Chapter Two

Word count:4 000+| Rating: M |  Michael Myers x OC | M/F

Morning came, with all that entails. In the midst of her freshly awakened delirium, Jean was sure that the previous night's events had just been a strange dream. She'd been known to have dreams like that, especially when she was stressed. The paranoia induced by the news I listened to on the way home must have been the basis, she told herself. She had been exhausted and what she did in that dream was absolutely ridiculous. Never in a million years would she be so stupid as to do what she did. That would be like one of those foolish horror story protagonists that Jolene liked to tell her about. With a light chuckle, Jean changed out of her pajamas into the brown sweater and jeans she liked wear on cool mornings like this. There were plenty of things to do today, but none of them could be done on an empty stomach, so off to the kitchen it was.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room came into view, and suddenly her train of thought came to a screeching halt. The coveralls, with their dark stains and tears, lay on the floor, mocking her for her stupidity. Their owner, however, was absent, with no sign of his presence. Jean's heart began to beat far too fast in her chest as her mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. She turned suddenly to leave the room and crashed into a solid mass, stunning her for a moment. At once, she was hit with a wave of embarrassment as she was pressed against the chest of her uninvited guest.

“Oh! Excuse me, I didn't see you there,” She exclaimed, taking a step back from the man. Now, in the daylight, she could take the moment to realize how tall he was. He was about a whole foot taller taller than her, built like a football player, and, when she'd been pressed against him, solid muscle. “Um, I, well, I'm going to be making myself some breakfast. Would you like to join me in the kitchen?” He didn't answer, unsurprisingly, but she could feel his presence as she moved toward the other room. Her mind was a storm as she flipped an egg in the skillet. What am I even doing? She wondered, I don't know who the hell this guy is or what he did last night before he broke in.

Jean set a plate of eggs and toast in front of the stranger, then sat across from him with her own steaming plate. The air was heavy with tension as they sat, the man staring at Jean as she struggled to force her mouth to form words. Neither of them reach for their food and Jean feels the need to squirm in her seat. She spots her notebook and pen.

“Ah, I- Um, I never caught you name,” she pushed the paper and writing instrument toward him gently, “Mine's Jeanette. Jeanette Parrish. Well, I just go by Jean, because that's what everyone calls me.” She stuttered out. She would almost feel embarrassed if he weren't watching her in such an intimidating way. Like an owl watching a mouse scurry across the forest floor, waiting for the moment to swoop down with its talons bared.

Stop that, she thought to herself, you're working yourself up over nothing. The little voice of common sense returned, Or not. He very well could be dangerous. After all, how many good men just break into a person's home covered in blood, refusing to speak? Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the thoughts racing in her head, Jean pushed herself up from the seat a bit too forcefully, nearly knocking her half eaten breakfast off the table. She needed air. Somewhere without his eyes on her, forcing her mind to spin wild thoughts. She went outside to the utility shed, a basket of dirty laundry (she'd grabbed the filthy jumpsuit without thinking on her way out) pressed to her hip as she exited. The washing machine was set up to cycle and she leaned against it as it filled with water.

She let out a shaky breath, tapping her fingers against the cold metal as she calmed. The machine hummed and shook as it worked, the rhythm of it lulling her into a sort of relaxing trance, broken by the buzz signaling the cycle's completion. On autopilot, she removed the garments from the washer's drum and took them to the line, performing the repetitive motion of hanging them up to dry. When done, she went back inside, seeing no sign of the man when she did. He wasn't in the kitchen, where she had left him, the only sign of him being on the table, where his empty plate sat beside the notebook. Jean was amazed to see a name written down on the paper in a childish, unpracticed scrawl. “Michael,” she read softly to herself. Well, that answers one thing, she thought, but leaves a lot more for me to wonder about.

Michael watched from threshold undetected as the woman, Jean, flit around the kitchen tidying things up and washing the plates and silverware. She moved with purpose and care, reminding him much of the few nurses who cared for him in the sanitarium. One question kept coming to him, however: how stupid was this woman? When she first saw him, she did not scream or beg, or even run away. No, this one stood her ground against him, a thing of pure evil, silent and horrific. Admittedly, it intrigued him, her strangeness. He realized that she lived alone, yet appeared no older than his escaped prey, Laurie. Young women didn't tend to live alone, only old women and men did. She would have been an easy kill, had he chosen to do so.

Why hadn't he? Well he hadn't wanted to, of course. Why hadn't he, though? Enough. He wouldn't waste time on this line of thought for longer than he needed to. Only because you have no answer, The Shape spoke. He supposed that was true. He felt the same urges he had when seeing those girls Laurie surrounded herself with. The same urge he felt when he was young, seeing the life leave Judith. Jean was beautiful, and  there was only one thing a devil could ever do to beautiful things: destroy them.

Jean felt eyes on her back as she put the clean, dry plates in the cabinet. She twirled around to see Michael in the threshold, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. She started to move again, not even noticing the pause she made in her movements. She walked past Michael into the living room, deciding to straighten the book shelves and sweep the floor. The usual intense focus she would fall into refused to come, the presence of another body too distracting for her to push from her mind. Why won't he leave, she wondered quietly.

Eventually, she gave up on the endeavor, choosing to flop onto the couch, frustrated. She picked up the book on the end table. Well, I could always start that book Jo recommended to me, she considered as she opened the book. She'd only gotten a few lines in when she felt breath on her shoulder, causing her to hesitantly look to the source. Michael stood, head tilted like a confused pup. She swallowed and pointed to the book, “Have you read this one? My coworker said it was good, but I'm not very fond of scary stories,” she said, “but, if you wanted, I could read it aloud and we could experience it together? You might want to sit down if that's the case.”

Truthfully, she just wanted him to stop hovering uncomfortably behind her like a cat ready to pounce. To her surprise, he did, though a bit closer than she was comfortable with, a closeness which was increased by gravity pulling her to the low spot made by his superior weight. She cleared her throat, “Well, I suppose I should start then,” a pause as she readied herself to read, “Chapter one: Job Interview. Jack Torrance thought: Officious little prick...”

She read until she could read no more, Michael sitting as still as a cold marble slab next to her on the old couch. When she looked up, throat scratching from the use, she noticed that it was quite dark outside and, upon looking at the clock, realized that she had missed dinnertime and her stomach was quick to confirm. Dog-earring the page she was reading, Jean set the book back on the table, rushing to the kitchen to get something to eat. She eats a plate of leftover meatloaf that had been in the refrigerator, and left a plate for Michael, should he decide to have some. With a yawn, she turned off the light in the kitchen, slinking up the stairs and looking over to the couch where Michael still sat.

The bedroom door was shut firmly behind her and she turned the lock to give her peace of mind while she slept. Are you so sure that will keep you safe, her common sense questions, when he's so close by? She pushed it from her mind, it's all she could do if she wanted to sleep. Besides, becoming paranoid wouldn't serve her well either. The bed wasn't comfortable enough to counter her stress and confusion over the situation she'd gotten herself into.

Jean awoke abruptly, horribly aware on this morning that the previous day and night were not, in fact, dreams. She was also horribly aware that she would have to leave her room at some point that day. Oh shit, she thought, I have to work tonight. Snuggling further into the soft comforter on the bed, she grumbled internally. She didn't hate her job, but she sure as hell didn't like it. Annoying, entitled customers weren't the only thing she disliked about it, but they were a big part of it. The next man to call her “sugar tits”, “babydoll”, or anything overly familiar was going to have to get her fist surgically removed from his face. She was a waitress, goddamnit, not a whore! And even whores deserved more respect than that. Both she and they were just working women, after all. How could that ever be undeserving of basic human dignity?

Rolling out of bed, she hissed at the cold hardwood under her bare feet. The weather is cooling rather quickly, she noted as she put on slippers, unlocked the door, and braced herself as she tiptoed down the stairs. There was no sign of Michael, which seemed to be the norm with him. She half expected to run into him again as she had the previous morning. He wasn't in the kitchen either. Or the bathroom. Or the closet. Not hiding behind her like the shadowy creature in an old monster movie. Finally, she checked the backyard, only to see that the man's coveralls were missing and in there place the clothes he'd borrowed had been lazily draped over the line.

It was- surreal in a way. He was gone just as abruptly as he'd appeared. It was almost sad to have him gone, in a strange way. The house felt emptier, like it was missing something. She shook her head. No, this was the way it was meant to be. She could only hope that he didn't decide to return. That settles that, she thought to herself, now I can just live my life in peace. All that left for her to do was get some breakfast and enjoy some time to herself. Same thing as every day. Eggs and toast. Get dressed. Tidy the house. Sit and read. She felt odd picking up The Shining again. It's rude to read ahead when you're trying to share a book after all. She put it down without a second thought. Picking up an old favorite, she began to read it all over again. It must have been the- what? Tenth time? Something like that. It was a comforting book to read, after all.

Soon enough, it came time to ready herself for the long shift ahead. Her clean, wrinkle-free pink blouse and black skirt reflected back at her in the mirror as she pulled  her hair into a half ponytail in the back. She dragged herself to the car, an old gray clunker that had to be from the last decade or so. Jean didn't really know. It was granddad's from when he was a younger man, but she remembered how her brain would shut down every time he tried to talk cars at her. At least she knew how to change tires and oil, the mechanic could worry about everything else.

The door to the diner section of the truck stop swung open as Jean walked in. There was only one patron sitting at a table, a plate of meat and potatoes set before him. He looked up at Jean and gave her a friendly nod, which she returned with a smile. At least he wouldn't be a nuisance tonight. She walked back into the kitchen where Jolene leaned against a counter top as she chatted with Gus, the cook. He was a big man who's heart was as big as his biceps. He was an amazing cook too and, oftentimes, it made Jean wonder why he hadn't become a chef at some big fancy restaurant. He noticed her and grinned.

“Hey Jean, did you have a good day off?” he asked, deep voice carrying over to her. Jolene seemed to light up, turning to look at Jean.

“Yeah, it's never as fun around here without you!” she said. Jean smiled.

“Oh, y'know, same old, same old. I started reading that book you recommended to me though!”

“Really? What do you think? I know you're not one for scary stories, but I thought you might like this one.”

“Pretty good so far, actually. I didn't think I'd like it, but I've enjoyed it quite a bit. I like the atmosphere the author's set.” Jolene smiled at that.

“That makes me really happy, Jean. Now if only you'd just-”

The redhead was cut off by the jingle of the door as a customer stepped into the establishment. Jean flashed her a small smile as she made her way over to where the man sat down. She knew exactly what Jo was about to say next and felt as though she'd dodged a bullet when she got away. Now she'd just have to be sure she wasn't hit by the ricochet when they took their break. “Now sir, what can I get you?”

Finally, a quiet moment came where no customers sat in the dining area. Jean took the moment to join Jo as she left out the back door. Jolene stood in the light of the small bulb that flickered above the back door. She puffed away at a cigarette that she clenched between her peach toned lips. A grin quirked up to her lips when she noticed Jean, who sighed as she prepared for the usual lecture Jo liked to give her.

“Oh Jean, you wouldn't believe the guy that came in here yesterday,” Jo began, taking a pull off the dwindling white stick, “guy waltzes in like he thinks he's hot shit. Couldn't be any older than, what? Sixteen, I'd guess. Just some dumb fucking kid. And he says to me Ay, dollface, how's 'bout you get me a beer?”

She throws her hair around, “As if he thinks we won't card him, ha! I tell him about as much and say I'll bring him a soda, so Mr Tough Guy gets pissy, but agrees. When I leave to go get it though, the little bastard grabs my ass! What a pig, am I right?

Well, I know he's lucky that you weren't here because you would've been on him like that!” she snaps for effect, “well, Gus just threw him out and made sure I was ok, but still, what a little creep!” She finishes, throwing her hands up in the air as she did.

“Wow,” Jean began, a bit confused as she always was when Jo would go off on a rant like that, “the nerve of some people! You're right, I would've taught him some manners right then and there. Little bastard.” She swore.

“It's no big deal, I guess. It's not like I'm hurt or anything.”

“That's not the point! You know I can't stand when people like that act like they can just do whatever the hell they want.”

“I know, but there's no need to worry about it. Gus took care of it.”

“Not as harshly as he should have.”

“Well, you know that's just not how he rolls.”

“I do.”

“Now-”

“Oh no.”

“Don't you Oh no me! You didn't call my buddy Robert back!” She threw her hands to her hips, her brows furrowed.

“Jo, please-”

“You promised me that you'd give him a chance, Jean.”

“I did. We just didn't hit it off, I guess.”

“Ugh, that doesn't mean you get to be rude to the guy. The best thing to do is tell him up front.”

“I'm sorry,” and she was. Jo was just trying to help her, in her own way. This was the third guy she'd set Jean up with. It was sweet of her, but the help was unneeded and very much unwanted.

“I'm just- Well, I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to end up a lonely old woman, bitter because you never found anyone.”

“According to you, I'm there already,” Jean said, chuckling.

“Laugh it up, but when that happens you'll think: Oh, how I wish I listened to Jolene! She's always been so smart, why did I disregard her advice!” she danced about dramatically as she said this, throwing an arm over her head with the last word, making Jean snort-laugh.

“Alright, alright, you have a point.”

“Yes, I do! Now do you promise to keep an open mind?”

“Of course.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out the finger, which Jo hooked with her own. The door opened gently and Gus stopped it with his foot.

“Something I missed?” he asked softly.

“No, no,” Jo laughed, “nothing at all!” Gus rolled his eyes.

“A'right then, well your break's up, ladies,” he said, holding the door open more so that they could enter.

Jean felt light as she drove home from work. Her shoulders were relaxed as the blackness surrounding her passed by. Talking to Jo and Gus was like therapy for her. She could almost push Michael and his intrusion from her mind. Almost. She was still a little worried that he'd show back up in the night. Thankfully, there was no figure on her couch when she unlocked and opened the door (making very sure to lock it back after her). There was no man sat at her table, no towering mass in her corner with intense black eye holes that made her feel weak and small. And that was how it stayed for days. That's how it stayed when she woke up to eat eggs and toast. That's how it was when she went to work and when she got home. For about two weeks.

She got home after a late shift, more tired than she had been in a long while. It had been the stress, she guessed, of Jo reminding her that she had no plans for the holidays that were rapidly approaching. No loving husband and in laws to fill her home with joyful voices and good memories. Being alone had its downsides, it seemed. She flopped straight into bed with a muffled groan of annoyance, then fell asleep with ease. It was also with ease, however, that she was awoken. First slowly by the creaking of her window and the cool breeze that came through it, but then abruptly by the sudden presence at the end of her bed.

The foreboding black shadow just stood there, the moonlight obscuring the figure in silhouette. She at once felt panic rush through her veins as she kicked her legs out. They connected with the figure's abdomen, forcing a deep strangled grunt from it. She flipped out of the bed, staggering to her feet as they tried to carry her to the exit. Her arm was grabbed, causing her to slip and nearly fall, had she not been pulled roughly to the figure's solid chest. She struck out with her free hand wildly, which was caught in a vice-like grip and, using the leverage gained from having her hands in its grasp, the figure pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her and knocking the air from her lungs. The figure breathed heavily.

Jean squirmed helplessly against the wall, her torso bared vulnerably to her attacker. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away and holding her breath as she waited for the inevitable. When nothing happened she opened her eyes and looked back, catching the sight of a telltale white mask and blue coveralls. “What the hell, Michael?” She breathed through a clenched jaw. He responded with a head tilt, as though he saw no issue with the situation at hand.

“You can't just do that!” She yelled, which amused him because he could, and he did.

“Can I at least have my arms back?” She asked, as he pretended not to hear her, keeping her arms in his cruel grip.

“I'm sorry I kicked you, but you have to understand that I was afraid I would really be killed- Or worse!” Were he any other man, Michael would have chuckled. Not yet, Jean, the Shape supplied for him. That would have to wait. Regardless, he released her wrists, which she rubbed gratefully. She left the room, pausing to look over her shoulder expectantly, almost like she was waiting for him to follow her. And so he did, down the stairs and into the living room where she plopped herself down on the couch. He sat beside her, feeling as she leaned against him at first, then readjusted herself on the couch.

“It's been a while, huh?” She said softly, peering at him nervously. “Well, I'll admit, I can't get back to sleep with all this excitement. I'd like to read our book. Would you like that?” He tilted his head, first to one side, then to the other, which she took as a yes of sorts. She cleared her throat, then picked up the book, “Alright-y, where were we? Aha! There!” And she began to read.

Michael didn't pay much attention to what she was reading to him. On occasion, he would tune back in to her words to catch bits of the plot. Not that it interested him, but her voice, on the other hand- It was mesmerizing. He'd heard women's voices before. Obviously. Usually they held the tone of disinterested disgust, much like the nurses at the sanitarium. Sometimes it was in the midst of a pleasured moan, much like his sister, Judith mere moments before her life ended. Best of all was their fear, their pain, their death. The sound of it intoxicating, filling him with a sense of control and satisfaction. Something about Jean's voice, however, was very different.

When he heard her voice, regardless of what he would think on first seeing her (that being the desire to snuff her out like a candle), he would begin to feel a sense of calm wash over him. He felt like a child again, hearing his mother speak to him in soft tones. Mother. She wasn't quite like his mother, this woman, but it was a closer comparison than to either of his sisters. She was caring. Not like the nurses, with their fake chipper tones and needles filled with numbing drugs. No, she was real. For a moment, when she bandaged his wounds, he remembered Sunday school and the stories of angels he was told. Is this an angel? He asked the Shape. No, it responded angrily, this is flesh and blood. This is for you to rip and shred. To break into a million pieces. But not now, not yet. Now you wait. Now you remain patient.

And so he did.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

If you're feeling up to it, may I ask for a fluffy number 2 “It reminded me of you.”??

Ok, fluffy. I can try and do fluffy. @thatoldbanshee

This is from the list of one hundred ways to say I love you. Comment/message/Ask with a number to request!

--

The Serpent was draped across a branch, enjoying the feeling of the early-morning sun on his scales.

He was supposed to be making trouble, but that could wait. It was the first time in...a very long time that he didn’t have to watch his back, or fight, or try to intimidate anyone. The very concept of relaxing was foreign to him, but if this is what it involved, he could stand to do it a bit longer.

A rustle below brought him back to reality. Someone was approaching.

He coiled backwards, sinking into the cold shadows, wishing he could hide his golden eyes as well. He’d lingered here too long.

A figure appeared in the clearing below. White robes, white hair, white wings spread wide, flaming sword in hand. Angel.

Well, I had a good run, the Serpent thought bitterly. Twenty whole minutes. It was nice while it lasted.

The angel scanned the area, the trees, the creek running past with its strange, calming sound.

And the angel put down his sword.

Gathering his robes around his knees, he stepped into the water with a sigh. After a few more steps, letting the flowing water swirl around his legs, he settled on a boulder facing eastwards, tilting his head back towards the sun.

The Serpent slid along the branch, peering down through the leaves.

The angel kicked his feet wiggling his toes in the water. The wind stirred through his feathers, fluttering them slightly.

His eyes opened -- all the colors of the world, blues and browns and greens mixed together -- and locked onto the Serpent above him.

The angel gasped and pulled away, then relaxed again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were...well, I suppose you must be some new animal.”

The Serpent lounged, flicked his tongue, pretended to be a normal snake.

“Don’t...er, don’t tell the other angels, alright?” His eyes glanced towards the wall. “They already think I’m foolish enough, and now I’m here, walking in water and talking to animals.” He tilted his head back, stretching his wings again. “Oh, but it just feels...so good, doesn’t it? The sun and the wind. And I just...I don’t remember the last time I could relax. Not have to worry about following orders or impressing anyone.”

The Serpent stretched out a little further.

“Yes, I think you know exactly what I mean. It’s good to be understood.”

“Aziraphale!” A voice echoing across the Garden.

The angel hopped out of the water so fast, the bottom of his robes became soaked. “Oh -- oh, dear.” He waved his flaming sword at the wet cloth, then gave it up as a bad idea. “Well, I suppose that’s all I get. Enjoy the sun, strange animal.” And he hurried off through the grass.

The Serpent waited a little longer, until he was sure no one else was coming.

Then he lowered himself to the ground and took a shape like the one the angel had worn -- arms and legs and wings and face. He walked over to the boulder and eased his unfamiliar feet into the water, spread his wings, tilted his face to the sun.

Oh. It felt very good.

--

It was hard to remain focused while patrolling the wall. The angel walked back and forth, trying to diligently watch the desert, but there was nothing to see. 

His mind drifted, again and again, back to the Garden, the way it had looked, the feel of the grass under his toes. How wonderful, just for a moment, not to have anyone looking over his shoulder, correcting him, berating him for getting it wrong again.

At least the sun was still here.

He paused, turning east to face it, tilting his head back to let the rays fall on his cheeks again. It was...lovely, really.

But he didn’t have time for this. Shaking himself firmly, he turned back to the path he walked.

A dark figure lurked just ahead. “S - Stop!” He brandished his sword, flames dazzling his own eyes, and had to pause and blink them clear.

When he could see again, there was no dark figure. Just something brown and green lying across the wall, and a black flicker disappearing off the edge.

The angel walked forward cautiously, in case it was some sort of trap. But no, the strange shape was merely a plant, each branch of the long green stem topped by a bright yellow flower with broad petals. Someone had torn it out of the ground, roots and all, and attempted to stand it up along the wall.

He glanced over the side, and thought he saw something long and black twist away among the trees.

Uncertainly, he stood the plant up. It was nearly shoulder height like this, and all the flowers pointed eastwards, as if following the sun.

“Well. What am I supposed to do with you?”

--

Rainfall.

An angel and a demon stood together on the wall. The angel had his wing stretched out, shielding the demon from the falling water, but he had his own face tilted back, letting the drops run down his cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Crawley couldn’t take his eyes off that strange, peaceful expression.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, quite.” He straightened up, blinking his eyes clear. “We just...well, there isn’t anything like this in Heaven.”

“Nor in Hell,” said Crawley, still watching the angel closely. “So how does it feel? As good as the sunlight?”

“No, I suppose that... Oh!” Suddenly his face turned pink. “Oh, dear. I thought you looked...you were the creature I saw in the woods.”

“Serpent,” Crawley corrected. He leaned a little closer and grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what I saw.”

“Um. Yes. Jolly good.” The angel fidgeted, but his wing didn’t waver. 

“Come on, though, tell me how it feels.”

The angel tilted his head back again. “Cold. And a little overwhelming, the heavier it gets. But the first drops felt nice. Soothing.” A small pink tongue poked out. “Doesn’t really have any taste, but...I quite like it.” He glanced to the side, frowning. “I suppose you brought that...that plant up here along the wall.”

“Oh! Yeah. What happened to it?”

“I couldn’t very well keep it. It was large and messy and, well, dying.”

“Was it?” Crawley’s heart sank. “Ah, guess I’m not very good with plants.”

“No, I didn’t say that. I mean, you probably just need practice. But I think you have to keep them in the dirt, for a start.” He shuffled his feet a little. “So. Why did you bring it up here?”

“I thought you’d like it. Um.” Crawley looked down at his own feet, dotted with black and bright red scales. “I found a whole field of them, standing there, looking east towards the sun. It reminded me of you.”

“Ah.” The angel smoothed his robes, and said nothing further.

--

The rain had cleared up, and the angels were setting off across the desert, but one lingered behind. He had something to take care of first.

“Crawley!” He felt a smile spread across his face when he spotted the demon lurking by the wall. “I thought you’d left by now.”

“I know. I’ll be going back where I came from soon.” He glanced up at the sun, crimson curls hanging past his shoulders. “I just...I’ll be going soon.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean...that is, I’ll be leaving soon, too. And, um.” He held out his hand.

The flower was bright red, even redder than Crawley’s curls, and seemed to have hundreds of petals packed tight together. The smell of it was almost overwhelmingly sweet.

“I, ah, I saw this and...it reminded me of you.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t quite hold it in place. “It’s...not clever like the yellow flower and the sun, I just liked the color but...here.” Crawley’s hand reached out for the stem. “Oh, ah, mind the thorns. They weren’t there yesterday.”

Crawley carefully plucked it from his fingers and cradled it in his own hands. “No one’s...ever given me anything before,” he whispered.

“Well, ah, I did owe you.” The angel glanced over his shoulder, then reached into his robes, pulling out the yellow flower he’d hidden there. It wasn’t as bright anymore, and it certainly didn’t face towards the sun, but he still liked it very much. “Er. No one’s ever given me anything, either.”

A genuine smile grew across the demon’s face. “I suppose I’ll see you around, ah...?”

“Aziraphale.” He smiled back, and this time it stayed. “And, yes, I look forward to it.”

--

Six thousand years later, in the South Downs, a little cottage stood in a clearing, with rose bushes in the back garden, and a sunflowers lining the front walk, facing ever eastwards to the sun.

--

(We usually do Aziraphale with blue or grey eyes, but Michael Sheen actually has heterochromia, eyes with lots of color in them.)

(Also -- while doing some quick research, I was disappointed to discover that mature sunflowers don’t actually track the sun across the sky, although young sunflowers do. But turns out that most adult sunflowers naturally face eastward all the time and, well, I couldn’t let that go without comment!)

[spaceskam]

the word of your body

draft 35 for @winged-fool, @callieramics, and @hmd023! same universe as this 

warning: insecurity and slightly uncomfortable sexual situation (it’s resolved and nothing goes far at all, swearsies)

ao3

It was weird knowing that the only person you could ever actually be with didn't have the same regulations.

Alex watched with unmatched jealousy as Michael mindlessly followed a girl that walked past with his eyes. He knew he couldn't actually be jealous. They weren't together. They held hands and hugged, but nothing more and even that was only in small doses. Even so, that was only because Alex couldn't touch anyone else. Alex knew that was why.

He also knew Michael did actually like him–he'd made that clear–but he never pushed for anything more. But Alex knew this was his only shot at not being alone forever. What were the chances he'd find another age-appropriate, attractive, invincible guy? Unlikely.

"Hey," Alex urged, reaching out to grab his hand. Michael snapped his gaze back toward him, smile intact. "You wanna come over?"

"Come over? Like, to your house?" Michael clarified. Alex nodded. He wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea, to just be so forward, but Michael was always forward so it felt like his turn. He wanted him. He had to make that clear.

"Yeah," Alex said. Michael squeezed his hand.

"Do I get to check out your room?" he asked, smirking all confidently. Alex couldn't help notice another pretty girl walk by them. Michael didn't even look her way. He smiled and nodded.

“Yeah,” Alex said, slowly dragging his thumb over the sensitive skin on Michael’s palm. He delighted in the way his shoulders shook just a little in response, his cheeks flushing as he continued to smile. 

“What are we waiting for?”

The entire walk to Alex’s house consisted of him doing his best to hype himself up. He didn’t know why he was even nervous. It didn’t feel like how everyone else who got touched casually by people every day. They had all the time in the world to pick and choose and build themselves up to whatever they wanted. Alex, on the other hand, had only been touched by one person in years. He was eager for more. He wanted it. Why wait?

Alex was more than a little thankful when he saw that his mother wasn't home. He hadn't actually told her about Michael's existence yet considering he himself had only two weeks to process it. Alex had touched him and no one had died. That was something he wanted to keep to himself for just a little while.

He led Michael down to the basement that was his bedroom and tried to get rid of her nerves as he watched Michael acclimate to the space with ease. He fit there, maybe even a little too well. Alex smiled and tilted his head, twisting the tension out of his neck. He was going to do this. It was going to be amazing.

“So, what do you wanna do? Watch a movie?” Michael suggested. He wiggled his eyebrows a little and added, “We could cuddle?”

Alex took a deep, controlled breath and decided he wasn’t going to be embarrassed. This wasn’t something to be embarrassed by. This was normal. He could finally be normal.

“Touch me,” Alex requested. Michael blinked a few times, his smile falling as he took in Alex’s words. He tried not to squirm under his gaze and kept his head held high.

“For real?” Michael asked softly. Alex nodded. Michael didn’t move any closer. “Where?”

“Uh,” he breathed, “Anywhere?”

Michael lightened the mood by letting out a soft little laugh and nodded, taking a step closer. He grabbed Alex’s hands again which wasn’t anything new at this point, but still made him feel like he was going to explode with joy. Someone else’s skin was just... so much.

He watched in fascination as Michael moved his hands up to Alex’s jacket, gently pushing it off his shoulders. His heart was slamming in his chest all while Michael just ran his hands over his bare arms. Then he took a step closer and pressed a kiss into the inside of Alex’s wrist. 

“You okay?” Michael asked, eyeing him probably because he’d stopped breathing.

“Yeah,” Alex all but squeaked out. Why was he so nervous? Michael raised an eyebrow and laughed, pressing another kiss to the inside of his elbow. 

“You wanna just cuddle? That involves touching. We could watch a movie,” Michael said again, Alex shook his head as he tried to think of a way to make it clear what he actually wanted. He wanted Michael to be his. 

“Kiss me,” Alex said. Micahel again eyed him like he was unsure.

“Really?” Michael asked, “Because I don’t want you forcing yourself to do stuff just because I’m the only one you’ve met so far that didn’t die.” Alex had to give him that, he did manage to make it sound less depressing.

He stepped a bit closer, raising his hand to touch Michael’s cheek. He hadn’t actually touched him anywhere other than his hands. It was soft and a little stubbly in some places, but it was warm and Alex gravitated closer. He moved his hand a little and slid it into his hair. They moved closer until their foreheads met in the middle, Alex’s hands on his face and Michael’s on his waist.

“I like you. Not because you can touch me, but because I like you,” Alex told him, “But the fact that you can’t doesn’t hurt your case.”

Michael smiled and pulled him a little closer, their noses bumping and their chests pressing flush together. It was a little like a hug, just closer, and Alex was feeling a little overwhelmed in the best way. He wanted to kiss him.

“I just... I want you,” Alex added, a little softer this time. 

Michael’s thumbs slipped beneath his shirt, pressing into the skin of his hips. It was so small, so subtle, but Alex couldn’t help the gasp that fell from his mouth. It was like his entire body was on high alert. Which, it probably was. Michael grinned and rubbed his nose against Alex’s.

“How does it feel?” Alex asked quietly after adjusting to the feeling of his thumbs on his hips.

“Hmm?”

“How does it feel when I touch you?” he wondered, “When I touch people, their heart stops. Even though you’re invincible, it’s still happening to you, right? Like you can still feel it, can’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael agreed, a small, shy smile overcoming his face like it was something he was embarrassed about despite it being Alex’s fault. “It’s sort of, um, feels like static electricity. Like a little jolt and my heart beats a little faster to overcompensate.”

Alex froze. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he whispered, “I kinda like it.”

“Oh,” Alex hummed, tilting his head just a little. He wasn’t sure if he should be the one to kiss him or not. He’d never done it before. The closest he got to it was books and movies and shows, watching other people and hoping that if the time came for him he wouldn’t fuck it up. “Kiss me?”

Michael looked at him in that way that he wasn’t really used to being looked at. In fact, he had never been looked at like that. Like he mattered and was special and was chosen. Alex gently traced his jaw with his thumb.

Slowly, slowly, Michael moved forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was soft and short, but it still had Alex’s head spinning. His whole body felt hot by that one little kiss. It had him smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“You are my new favorite person to kiss,” Michael said. Alex’s eyebrows shot up and he laughed.

“What? How? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, but you’re so cute and reactive,” he teased, giving him a little squeeze that made Alex’s chest feel like it was going to burst.

“That’s because I have no idea what I’m doing,” Alex said. Michael grinned all proudly and slowly started walking them back towards his bed. Alex felt his nerves flare up again.

“I guess I’ll just have to teach you,” he said. 

In a pretty swift moment that felt way too rehearsed, Michael had him on his back on the bed with Michael partially on top of him. About a second later, he was kissing him. Alex followed his lead as best he could despite the fact that he wanted to scream from excitement. It was a type of sensory overload he didn’t know was a thing, every inch of his skin just being totally and utterly aware of him. 

Michael kissed him with a closed mouth at first and then he parted his lips with a hand staying put on Alex’s chin which just felt like a lot more than it was. He was on his side beside Alex who was on his back, leaning over him just a bit. Then his tongue slipped into Alex’s mouth and the entire mood was shattered by Alex laughing.

“Oh, that’s funny?” Michael asked, smiling down at him as he tried his best to contain himself. But that was a really fucking weird feeling. Not a bad one, just weird.

“Sorry!” Alex laughed, “It’s just, it’s like—Have you ever had oysters?” Michael’s eyes went wide and he erupted into laughter as well.

“Oh my God, I kiss like eating oysters?” 

“It’s slimy!”

Michael fell onto his back, body shaking with laughter as he covered his face with his hands. Alex rolled closer to reconnect. He didn’t want the touching to end.

“Sorry,” he said again, trying to be serious as he petted Michael’s chest.

“No, no, it’s fine, I get it,” Michael laughed, moving his hands away, “Do you want me to not do that again?” 

“No, do it, I just need to get used to it,” Alex said. Michael licked his lips and shook his head. 

“C’mere then.”

Alex pressed himself into Michael’s side, those knots in his stomach tightening and loosening with each random kiss and touch he gave him. He adjusted to the feeling of those kisses and they very quickly stopped being funny. In fact, he couldn’t get enough.

He pressed himself into him, body aching for more. He wanted to be overwhelmed with his skin. Was that so hard to ask?

Michael pushed his hand into Alex’s back before moving it under his shirt. Nerves shot through him and he pulled away for a second, looking at him for a moment. He was gorgeous. He wanted him to be his.

So he sat up and took off his shirt.

“Okay,” Michael breathed, pushing himself up on his elbows. His eyes dragged over Alex’s chest and, as scared as he was, that felt good. 

“Touch me,” Alex said again. Michael huffed a laugh, smirking slightly as sat up completely. He reached out and Alex’s mind short-circuited.

Alex knew that he probably looked like an idiot, lips parted and eyes zoned out as he solely focused on the feeling of his hands on his chest. He gulped softly as his callused hand slowly dragged down his side and landed on his hip. The other hand slid over his chest, his thumb grazing over his nipple way too deliberately before moving to his neck and into his hair. Michael leaned closer and kissed his lips and then his cheek, his jaw, his neck.

“You okay?” Michael asked, voice soft and breath hot against Alex’s skin. His eyes were closed, continuously repeating to himself to calm down in his mind. There was no reason to be nervous.

“Yeah, why?” Alex asked.

“Your heart is beating really hard,” he said, head still bowed to kiss on Alex’s shoulder. “Yeah, harder.”

“Sorry,” Alex said, leaning away from just a little. Not too much. He didn’t want to stop being touched.

“No, it’s okay,” Michael said, moving away. Alex made an involuntary noise of protest which just made Michael smile. “Let’s even the score.” Alex watched with attentive eyes as he shed his own shirt. That was way better than movies. “Touch me.”

Alex smiled and shook his head. With shaky hands, he reached out and pressed his palms against his pecs. Michael placed his hands over Alex’s and then surged forward, kissing him senseless. He found himself laid on his back again with Michael fully on top him, bare chest to chest.

It was amazing and terrifying all rolled into one. He kissed him and he kissed him and he kissed him. Alex waited to get used to it, waited to get used to being touched like this, but it didn’t happen. He didn’t know what to make of that. It just kept feeling like his stomach was tying in knots or dropping or being fucking chucked across the room.

And then Michael went for his waistband.

Without even thinking, Alex’s hand snapped to his wrist and mentally cursed himself for it. He waited to be questioned and immediately started preparing his speech to say he wanted it, but it never came. Michael just moved his hands back to the previously defined Okay Zone without question.

“Sorry,” Alex said anyway. That was what got him to pull away.

“Sorry for what?” Michael asked. Alex swallowed hard.

“You can touch me there, didn’t mean to stop you,” he insisted. Michael stared at him for a moment.

“Alex, we don’t have—“

“No, I want to,” Alex clarified, giving a nod. Michael continued to stare at him while Alex gave the most encouraging smile he could muster. Yeah, he was nervous, but that was okay. Everyone was nervous.

“Are you sure?” Michael asked. Alex nodded. “Okay.”

Cautiously, he leaned back in to kiss him. Alex focused on that, focused on the fact that this was the only person he could ever be with. What was the point of being nervous when he was the only one?

They kissed for a few more seconds and Michael’s hand slowly started edging towards his pants again. However, before Alex could even have any type of reaction, he rolled off him and straight off the bed. Alex watched with confused eyes as he stood to his feet.

“You want to because you want to now or you want to because you want to eventually so why not now?” Michael asked. Alex blinked a few times.

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big one,” Michael said with a small laugh that had nothing to do with anything being funny. Alex sat up, cold and sort of self-conscious. He’d gotten so used to wearing long sleeves, jackets, gloves, that being shirtless while just simply talking made his nervousness skyrocket. “I don’t want you forcing yourself to do anything, Alex.”

“I want you to like me,” he said honestly. Michael’s shoulders dropped and he smiled.

“I do like you. A lot.”

“Yeah, but do you like me because you have to? Because I know you could have anyone and I can only have you, so—“

“Alex,” Michael said, coming closer again and peeling his hands off his chest, “You’re beautiful and funny and special. Sure, you can be a little prickly and a little stand-offish, but I like you because I like you, not because I feel required to.”

“You stare at girls still,” Alex pointed out. He grimaced a little.

“Yeah, my bad,” he said, squeezing his hands, “Doesn’t mean I don’t like you. We don’t have to rush. We have all the time in the world. It’s not like I’m gonna wake up tomorrow suddenly not invincible.”

Alex’s eyes widened. What if he did wake up the next day suddenly not invincible? Had that ever happened before? Would he accidentally kill him one day thinking it was alright when it wasn’t?

“Hey, no, stop, I see those gears turning,” Michael said, moving to grab his cheeks and force him to make eye contact, “That’s not gonna happen. I will literally stab myself every morning if I have to.”

“You’re my only shot,” Alex admitted, “I don’t wanna mess it up.” Michael smiled sweetly.

“Which is exactly why I don’t wanna fuck it up by moving too fast. We have all the time in the world,” Michael promised, “I want you, Alex.”

Alex stared at him for a moment. He didn’t know how to tell if he was serious or not. He guessed that the only way to actually tell was to wait and see. So, he nodded.

“Now let’s just watch a movie or something, okay?” Michael said. Alex breathed heavily.

“Okay.”

Michael moved to give him a hug, holding him tight. Somehow that was better than half of the stuff that happened that day. He breathed him in and closed his eyes.

“I still wanna kiss you,” he whispered after a moment of hugging. Michael let out a sweet laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek before basically picking him up and placing them both on the bed.

“We can still do that,” he said, “But we can stop at that too.”

Alex cuddled up to his side after they grabbed his laptop and found something to watch. And they just laid there together for a few hours, laughing and talking and kissing. Nothing more, and yet it was so much more.

Yeah. Maybe Michael did like him.

[daffietjuh]

Pink, Purple & Royal Blue

Chapter Twenty

Alex could pretty much see the “oh shit” behind Michael’s eyes. The silence in the room stretched, but wasn’t as uncomfortable as it probably should have been.

‘Hello Michael.’ His mom broke the silence after a few seconds. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She got up and took a few steps towards him, holding out her hand. Michael was still sort of gaping at her (not very princely), but he did manage to shake her hand and eventually snap his mouth shut.

‘Nice to meet you ma’am.’ He said and Alex should’ve been mad, because for fuck’s sake, but he really couldn’t bring himself to be.

‘So, you’re in love with my son?’ She asked and Michael’s eyes widened.

‘Oh, um. I am so sorry for barging in like that. I thought- well- not this.’

‘I could have elaborated in my note.’ Alex said with a small flinch. ‘Or texted, but it’s been kind of a whirlwind.’ He admitted. Michael looked over at him, all traces of the anger he’d radiated before had disappeared.

‘We can talk later, I didn’t mean to- this is probably a bad time- I, uh.’ The wave of affection that washed over Alex was so overwhelming, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

‘Maybe you can wait outside with Oliver and Yas? Or you could wait upstairs? My old room is the second one on the left.’ Alex offered. Michael nodded.

‘Oh yes, I will wait upstairs.’ He disappeared from the room quickly. Alex bit his lip as he turned back to his mom. She was smiling.

Continue on AO3

[dillion-langdon]

I Fell out of Heaven to be with You in Hell Part 1

Michael x Reader, soon to be Sub!Michael x Reader

Summary: Reader reflects on how Miriam introduces you to Michael Langdon and how your whole relationship began. 

Warnings: just a ridiculous amount of fluff, for now. The next chapter will be pure smut and sub!Michael and generally just a lot of hot, passionate sex. This is just setting the stage for endless amounts of fluff and for a slow burn.

Word count: 2K

Michael Langdon.

That name seemed to be everywhere to you. Each vowel reverberating deep inside of your soul, as if your body was hollow. That name was all you could ever think about now. Saying it out loud gave you chills, but in a good way. A warm spark of electricity shooting throughout your whole being. Ever since you laid your eyes on that young man who lived down the street, he was all you could ever think about.

When Miriam, one of your neighbours and close friend, introduced you to him, it felt like a ton of bricks dropped into your stomach. As soon as you saw him, you knew. It was like everything that happened in your life, all the trauma and failure and heartbreak, was leading you up to this point. You were meant to meet this person and you weren’t really sure why, but all you knew was that Michael Langdon was special and he was suppose to be in your life.

One warm, fall day when you were walking home from the grocery store, Miriam’s car drove past you and pulled up into her driveway. You noticed someone tall and slender sitting in the passenger seat and thought this was odd, as Miriam lived alone. She did happen to kill her first three husbands, however this man was young, and quite handsome from what you could tell through the windshield window. As soon the car stopped, Miriam turned in the driver seat to look at you and beamed. She got out and started moving towards you with outstretched arms.

“(Y/N)! I want you to meet someone.”

Your attention turned back to the car and there he was, standing behind it and staring.

Staring right at you.

The look on his face was exactly how you felt. You felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and shock. In a holy-shit kind of way. His eyes were deeply hooded and a light blue; they were intense, yet soft and the way they stared at you felt like they were boring holes into your soul. Your mouth fell open and you shuddered. The two of you just stood there for a few full seconds, eyes locked onto each other. It was mesmerizing.

You were soon brought back to reality when Miriam brought you into a warm embrace.  You broke eye contact with him and gave Miriam a soft peck on the cheek as you hugged her back. As you had your head over her shoulder you quickly glanced back up to him. He was still looking at you.

He gave you a sheepish smile and you nearly melted. Who was this guy?

“Michael, come over here,” Miriam beckoned him over, “Don’t be shy! This is (Y/N), she just lives down the street from us. She’s the one I’ve been telling you about.”

She talked to him about me, you wondered to yourself.

Miriam looked back to you, still smiling and said, “(Y/N), this is Michael Langdon. He’s the Antichrist.” Her smile broadened and eyes lit up at the word.

Over the past few months, over your coffee dates with Miriam, she would share to you how her and the Church of Satan were navigating the whereabouts of the Antichrist. You were never a Satanist per say, but you always held stock to whatever Miriam said and found the subject quite fascinating. You just never thought they would find him or if they did, he’d be a sham of some sort. Never did you consider he would be real nor someone like Michael.

Your eyes widened. As he made his way over he shyly waved his hand and said, “Ms. Mead, stop. It’s not that big of a deal.” His voice was angelic and youthful.

Obviously feeling shy, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his boots. As he stood beside Miriam, the height difference was incredible. He was clearly a good foot taller than her. Almost as if you were a puppet and someone was pulling your strings, you automatically held out your hand.

“Hi, Michael.” Still looking down, he quickly grabbed your hand to shake it. A jolt of energy shot through your arm and you nearly jumped. He felt it too because he looked up at you and your eyes met, once again. This time they were much softer and you sensed a strong familiarity to them. You felt drunk and everything seemed to go hazy. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and you couldn’t help but gawk at him. He was truly handsome.

Goddamm.

“Do you wanna come inside for some coffee?” Miriam asked, interrupting you and Michael’s moment. The both of you snapped out of it and you nodded. Taking your groceries home can wait, you had a different agenda now, and that was to find out more about this beautiful man that stood before you. You felt like you had no control of the situation and that you had to go inside, like something was pulling you down this wonderful, new winding path.

You followed them inside and to your surprise, Michael offered to carry your bags in. You handed them over and silently thanked yourself for doing your makeup before you left the house today.

That afternoon, as the three of you sat at the kitchen table and chatted, Michael’s gaze never left you. You could sense that Miriam was aware of this and somehow wanted it to happen? Was this what she wanted all along? It wasn’t until later in your relationship with Michael that you found out—that yes, she indeed wanted Michael to date you and it was her full intention to hook you two up.

As the conversation went on, for hours that is, you could feel Michael warming up to you. When Miriam shared how Michael came to be and mentioned Constance, you noticed Michael’s expression changed. His eyes flickered dark and his demeanor shriveled. He was still wounded, and deeply. Miriam quickly changed the subject as she knew this was still a tender spot for him and you could tell he was grateful.

When Miriam started talking about Hawthorn School for Exceptional Young Men, and how they had plans to get him enrolled,  you swore you felt Michael’s foot slide in between yours. You looked at him and he gave you another one of his sheepish smiles. He was flirting with you!

Your heart started to race and you panicked, “I should really get home. I have a college paper to write,” you managed to sputter out. You stood up so fast the chair squeaked; Michael followed suit.

“Oh,” Miriam looked at you, then up at Michael, “well we don’t want you to get behind your studies.” She gestured to Michael and said, “Michael, why don’t you walk (Y/N) home?” The two of you started to move when she added, “Oh, and don’t forget her groceries!”

The two of you left the house, with Michael having your bags in tow. It was already passed 7 p.m. and the sky was dusky with shades of pink and orange. You honestly never felt more nervous in your life. All of a sudden you came aware of every flaw and article of clothing you wore, and started to tug and pull at your outfit. The butterflies erupted again and you had a lump stuck in your throat. Your palms were sweaty and started to hurt. You were usually a confident person but Michael Langdon rendered you into a puddle.

You and Michael walked shoulder to shoulder and he was careful to follow your stride. Despite being a nervous wreck, you felt oddly at ease with him. The both of you were quiet and continued to walk to your door in comfortable, yet romantically awkward silence.

You felt the beat of your heart quicken as the pair of you reached your door. Your palms throbbed with anxiety. What was going to happen now? Was he going to kiss you? Should you just shake his hand? Maybe not, your palms were awfully sweaty. Your mind raced on what to do next.

He sat your bags down and turned to face you. You realized you forgot to leave the front door light on, but that didn’t matter. You were too nervous to care and too focused on the beautiful boy in front of you. You admired how his hair effortlessly framed his face and how his jawline went for days up into his blond curls.

“Well,” he nervously sighed, “I guess this is you.”

“Yep.” You awkwardly stated.

The both of you stood there for what seemed like hours, as you both anticipated what was going to happen next.

“Um-uh, listen—,” you began but he hastily cut you off.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” He blurted out loudly.

You were stunned. That sentence seemed to ring through your ears.

He quickly added, “I mean—like on a date. If you want.”

“Absolutely!” Your heart was singing. Even though your intuition was guiding you through the whole thing, you couldn’t believe it. Relief and joy washed over you.

He beamed and it was honestly the cutest thing ever. He looked so much like a lost puppy who just found its owner. And that owner was you.

A sudden realization washed over you both as you realized what must happen next. He took a step forward and you could feel the warmth of his body enclose on you, and he asked, “Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight?”

You gulped and nodded.

Holy fuck.

All of a sudden he was towering over you and you felt a broad hand cup your chin. That same flushed energy sparked up into your head with a rush of endorphins as his large, supple lips softly met yours. It was gentle yet firm all at the same time. Without using any tongue, he slightly parted his lips and let the heat of his breath enter you. It was so heady and inebriating, you felt dizzy as your head swam with his affection. The kiss only lasted several seconds but it might as well been eons. You never felt so lost inside of another person, so encompassed with them.

When you two finally pulled away from one another, Michael looked ecstatic. His normally bright blue eyes were darkened, his pupils dilated. For some reason, deep down you knew this was his first kiss.

“You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who never has done it before,” you added. You don’t know what or who made you said it, but you did. His face flushed a deep crimson and he chuckled, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Uh-yeah,” he shoved his hands in his pocket again and started to shuffle his feet, looking down. “But I’m really glad it was you,” he tenderly added. He met your eyes again for the what seemed like the millionth time that day and they still bore those holes into your soul. There was such a subtly to them and you can tell he was being genuine. He really meant it.

“I’ll text your mom—,” you stopped yourself, “I mean, Miriam, for your number.” You quickly added and you both laughed, knowing full well Miriam was not his biological mother. “Then we can set up a place and time?”

He nodded.

“Sure. You have a goodnight, (Y/N).” He started to walk away, grinning to himself like an idiot. He was glowing and so were you.

As he was half way down the pathway, he stopped, turned to you and said something so profound, only you could understand it. It was like striking a nail onto the coffin. His eyes met yours for the last time that evening and he said, with utmost certainty:

“(Y/N),” you looked at him, “I fell out of Heaven to be with you in Hell.”

[peterbscaprisweatpants]

Posting fan content no one asked for is a public disservice I provide. So here’s a (very inexpert and not 100% faithful (dropped a couple bits I couldn’t make out, etc) transcription from David Tennant Does A Podcast With... “Everyone” (a compilation of extras ep) where he gets Michael Sheen to talk about being “a man of enthusiasms” who once found himself “openly weeping” and “almost” coming in his pants over Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds album. 

10/10 rec listening to this ep, and all the others, bc this transcript does their fannish glee NO JUSTICE.

DT: You’re  a man of enthusiasms—

MS: [laughing]

DT: —I’d say.

MS: [laughs] Yeah, I get carried away about stuff, yeah.

DT: Yeah, which is lovely. And it’s lovely that y-you clearly have enjoyed these moments. You’ve also been able to pursue your enthusiasms, haven’t you? I’m thinking for instance of someone like Stephen King—you’re a massive fan of Stephen King.

MS: Mm. 

DT: And through, sort of, having a bit of status within one industry you can kind of chase down these people that you’ve—

MS: Yeah, yeah. Yeah.

DT: Uh- uh, War of the Worlds was a big���

MS: Yeah. Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds—

MS: That’s right.

DT: Which you just recently recorded, right?

MS: That’s right, yeah. We did. So Jeff— When I was about, I would say probably about 12, 13, uh, my cousin Hugh—well I say cousin; he’s one of those people who’s not really a cousin—

DT: Right, yeah. Sure, sure, sure.

MS: He, uh— My mum and dad were, you know, going out with his mum and dad that night and so he had to kind of look after me for the night or whatever, and, uh— and he was- he was probably about 16, 17 at the time. And he played me—well, he did a few things. He gave me Lord of the Rings, the book.

DT: Right.

MS: Um, and, he played me various albums. One of— a Gerry Rafferty album. Ever since then Gerry Rafferty, Night Owl—

DT: Okay. 

MS: —Baker Street, all that kind of stuff—very— I-I love Gerry Rafferty ever since then. Um, and he also played, uh, RUSH, I think he played me a RUSH album, which has also become a favourite of mine, and he um, and he played Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds—

DT: Yeah.

MS: —double album. And it terrified me. And had a massive effect on me.

DT: Right.

MS: And ever since then I’ve been slightly obsessed with that—

DT: Right.

MS: —album. And then, uh, a few years ago I was asked to guest edit the today programme for Radio 4, where you get to kind of suggest things to do stories on.

DT: Right.

MS: And so one of them I said was I’d like to do something about War of the Worlds. And, uh, so I interviewed David Essex and Jeff Wayne. But it was a remote interview; they weren’t in the studio with me. They were like, somewhere else. And- but we talked over the mic. 

DT: Yes.

MS: Um, and so that must have alerted—

DT: Was there an anniversary or something? Or did you just—

MS: No.

DT: —shoehorn this into a news programme shamelessly?

MS: I was like: “One- one of the things I’m interested in—I like that!”

DT: [laughing] Right. 

MS: So that was very much, so, like a case of use whatever I’ve got to be able to, you know, follow these things that I’m enthusiastic about. Uh, and so, uh, so I did that, and I suppose that meant that Jeff Wayne knew that I was into War of the Worlds.

DT: Sure.

MS: So then a few years on again, fairly recently, about a year ago, I get a message from my agent. “Uh, Jeff Wayne’s been in touch, wondering if you’d be interested in doing a new version of War of the Worlds.” I was like “YES!”

DT: [laughing]

MS: No questions asked! Um, and so, uh, so I got to go to Jeff Wayne’s studio—

DT: [laughing]

MS: —outside of London, uh, and, uh, his home studio, and like, look at all the photographs of him and Burton when they did it originally, and all the War of the Worlds memorabilia. Oh, it was- it was. David, it was unbelievable [laughing].

DT: [laughing]

MS: It was one of the greatest moments of my life. Uh, I- and I got completely overwhelmed by it. And we ended up doing a kind of, you know, behind the scenes bit of, you know, b-roll footage. There was a, like, camera there.

DT: Right. Yeah.

MS: And they sort of interviewed us. And [laughing] I’m sitting there with Jeff Wayne, talking about how important this album has been to me, and I just started openly weeping.

DT: Oh! That’s lovely though!

MS: [laughing] It was so embarrassing. Poor Jeff didn’t quite know what to do.

DT: I’m sure he was delighted. 

MS: Oh, god. And at one point, he- they were doing a thing where—he’s got a piano in his studio, you know—and they were interviewing him and he did the thing where he went- he was talking about- you know, they said: “What was- what was the first bit of melody that came to you when you first came up with the idea?” and he was like, “Well, it was this,“ and he starts playing the piano. And I… almost came. I have to say.

DT: [laughs]

MS: I- Jeff Wayne is there, playing—

DT: Right.

MS: —the War of the Worlds theme tune on a piano in front of me. Oh. I mean these are the things that make it all worth while.

DT: Yeah. Well of course! Of course!

MS: Aren’t they?

(Everyone, David Tennant Does A Podcast With..., Something Else and No Mystery, 2019). Transcript is from 01:30-05:10.

[loving-jack-kelly]

Okay now for the set, lighting, and acting things I will never be over in Bandstand

the lighting is Incredible

even though for the entire first act, the set is actually the exact same thing with the instruments moved, you forget it. when it’s the clubs, it’s the clubs. when it’s Donny’s house, it’s Donny’s house. When it Julia’s house, that’s what it is. you don’t even notice anything else

during the first scene, where Michael dies, the lights are blue and sharp, only on the actors, and whenever Donny has a flashback, that’s what they go to. sometimes for a long time, like the whole beginning of Right This Way, and sometimes short, like a literal flash during the scene before that

the flashbacks also always having booming drums, usually The Drumbeat, which is DUN dun dundundun DUN dundun dundun, but in the super short one it was just one really loud BOOM

the sound design was soo cool! it was really loud when the band was performing, and they were super good at setting the volume to match the scene, and I can’t articulate what I mean but trust me it was so cool

every man in the band has some sort of tell when their PTSD is bad. Donny waves his fingers and his whole body tenses, Nick clenches his fists and gets angry, Davey takes a big drink and his jokes get worse, they all deal in their own ways

but again, when they’re performing, it seems to go away

the whole thing is incredibly authentic. the dialogue flows completely naturally, and the chemistry of the cast is so good the emotions flow right along with it. when Donny is scared or angry, the audience is scared or angry. it was amazing

THE SET CHANGE

OKAY so for the whole first act and the beginning of the second, it was the simple club buildings and stage

in A Band in New York City, the set splits in half and goes offstage, and a platform come out with chairs on it to mimic a train, and luggage boys are “pulling” the train with a luggage train. also an almost abstract neon train hangs down behind them

then when they get to New York, the platform goes away and the neon light train goes away, and down drops a neon light building, tilted crooked. it looked like one thing. and then when they left the hotel it split and there was suddenly a street of neon buildings. and then a crooked neon cityscape

I swear to god that set change changed my life I can’t even describe it to you, my soul left my body and ascended from the earthly plane it was so good

what was really cool about it was that the simplicity of the first set didn’t go away at all. it was simple line art done in neon lights, there was still no walls or anything, it just was brighter and the city. it was so cool. augh. so amazing.

The Acting my GOD

Corey Fucking Cott my dudes Corey Cott is INCREDIBLE

the entire cast acts very well together, and also very well apart. they make everything flow super naturally, and are just amazing and perfect.

the Raw Emotion of the show is just amazing. there’s no “oh I’m sad but I’ll get over it” or “oh I’m in love with you” it all feels real and makes you feel it too

especially Julia. Laura Osnes manages to keep Julia a completely normal person. She gets mad and sad, but even while working through her husband’s death, she has moments of happiness. she can laugh and cry in the same scene, she can be perfectly fine one minute and not the next, Julia Trojan is just a very real person.

Corey Cott played Donny so well I couldn’t even comprehend it. His panic attacks were amazing acting, he collapsed in on himself and breathed like it was hard and was clearly having a physical problem, and when he told Julia how Michael really died he was sobbing. as in, had to pause his lines and collect himself, sobbing. audibly and visibly just crying. I’m sure part of it was genuinely Corey, since the show closes tomorrow and that has to be emotional, but it was acting and it was amazing

they all play off of each other easily, and every single person has amazing timing when it comes to lines and jokes. every joke landed, and every heartbreaker also landed.

i think that’s part of what makes the show so incredible. all of it feels real. every interacting makes sense, no conversation is just filler to get where you need to go, it all really felt like friends being friends, and because of that, the emotions changed realistically. 

Donny snapped several times, the biggest ones were with the club owner, the one with Nick, and when he yelled at Julia before explaining how Michael died, and every one you could see the pressure building before he couldn’t help it

the PTSD was really well shown, everyone dealt with it differently, and there were no jokes about it at all. it was very much presented as, this is what they have to live with, and people are ignoring it, and that’s a problem. nothing is “just like it was before” and nothing ever will be. maybe they didn’t die, but they went through hell, and ignoring it isn’t gonna get them anywhere, but they don’t know how to deal with it. So Donny throws himself into his music, Wayne schedules everything, Johnny is grateful for everything that happened to him because at least he doesn’t have to remember.

it was a heartbreaking show, I didn’t count how many times I cried but it was a lot.

Welcome Home, the last one, was so incredible.

the whole scene leading up to it was intense, because they started out so excited and then Jimmy comes back with the news that the wording of the contract gives away the band’s rights to the song, and then they’re angry, and then Donny decides to sing Welcome Home and they all get nervous

also, um, when Johnny said “You’re talking about a suicide mission” people laughed. as if he had made a joke. when it wasn’t a joke. this band had literally placed their sanity on top of the hope of winning. “during those few short hours a day/the noise in my head goes away” and Singing Welcome home could have gotten them blacklisted, meaning they never would have been able to perform again. “Suicide mission” wasn’t a joke, they literally may not have survived not having the band. 

anyway that was my interpretation of it, i didn’t laugh I cried. again.

so then they all agree to it, and they go onstage, and it’s announced that they’re going to sing Love Will Come and Find Me Again, and Donny tells Johnny to set the tempo

earlier he told the story about Michael and getting the tempo super fast, and the other version of Welcome Home they sang was slow, so Johnny started out slow, but Donny said “faster. faster. faster.” until it was really fast, and then said “now sing!” just like Michael did, and I cried some more

and then Laura’s performance. Ho. Ly. Shit. I know I’ve said “Raw Emotion” like ten times but this was probably the most emotional song I’ve ever seen done. She started singing “Johnny made it home. Most of him at least.” and Johnny’s emotions kicked in. every time she said a name, I cried harder and the band played harder. then everything but piano cut out for “Donny does his best, trying to pretend” and Corey bowed his head and you could tell the entire band was just overwhelmed by what they were doing and why, and they all knew they were ruining their chances of winning but they also all knew they were giving hopeless people hope, and the last chorus I’m pretty sure every single member of the Donny Nova Band was crying and I sure was

the entire cast was phenomenal. every single one of them. the band members played their instruments so well, and all of them were incredible actors, and even though not all of them had the Perfect Broadway Voices of Corey and Laura, they all sang like they meant it and they all had great voices. the ensemble was super high energy and fun to watch, and I loved them.

the music is obviously amazing. there isn’t a single song that doesn’t belong, and there isn’t a single song that wasn’t good to listen to, either fun or emotional or just plain good.

I’m in love with every single member of the Donny Nova Band

the constant theme of having each other’s backs was so good, and the shirt I got says “The Donny Nova Band” on the front and the band’s tour locations on the back, and says “Got your six” on the sleeve, and it’s amazing

anyway I need to sleep but um you’ll be hearing more about this work of art show soon because it was so freaking amazing

[letitmclennon]

FANFIC CONTEST "IF I FELL"

Rating: General Warning notes: none “Mr. McCartney, this is for you.” Paul turned towards the boy on their dressing room’s door. He was very young, probably new here, and already involved in the set-up of Wings’s first gig in New York. It was perfectly clear the reverential respect in his eyes. It was something Paul had seen many times by now, and still he had never gotten used to. He got up, walking away for a moment from his new band and his daughters, who were playing very noisily. Paul went to the boy, who seemed very scared of interrupting their post-gig party. In his hands there was a basket full of presents: some flowers, a box of chocolate and many letters and packages. “Who sends it?” Paul asked, picking up the basket. “Your fans, sir, they left them in the entry.” “Thanks… um…” “Michael, sir, my name’s Michael.” The boy answered right away. “Thank you very much, Michael.” Paul said with a wink, “Very kind of you.” Michael smiled briefly, and with a nod he went away. Paul chuckled to himself and started to look around his presents. He put the flowers aside, while chocolate went with the other food. He would have read the letters later, but the packages aroused his curiosity. After all he knew that some fans were very original about choosing what to give him. By now he had an enviable collection with all sorts of plushies and female underwear. It was funny when he was younger and single, but now he was married with a family, and it was a little bit inappropriate. Fortunately Linda became used to it quite soon. She perfectly knew who she was married to! Amongst all those presents, though, there was something very soft which drew his attention. He immediately took it in his hands and started to unwrapped it. The chatter of his bandmates and the shrieks of his daughters became just a muffled noise all round him, when he ended up with a shirt in his hands. A red checked shirt. ***** “And how much will you stay away?” Paul was sitting on John’s bed, gently strumming his guitar while he was staring at his mate stuffing clothes in a little rucksack. John was about to leave for Durness. “Don’t worry, Macca. I’ll see your stupid face in just a week.” “Mm.” Paul mumbled, bending his head, and John stopped immediately to look at him with a very clever smile. He knew very well what was in his bandmate’s little head. “Please, not again, Paul.” “What?” Paul asked, looking at him curiously. “You’re going to be a fucking pansy. Again.” Paul pouted, outraged, resting his guitar aside, “I’m not.” “Yes, you are, I know you by now. You’re going to say you’ll be missing me and that you hope I’ll come back soon.” John laughed, teasing him, and Paul snorted, crossing his arms on his chest, “Go fuck yourself, Lennon. I heartily recommend it.” “I’ll gladly do it. But, first of all, I’ll ask you a favour.” “My arse!” Paul mumbled, pouting deeply. “That’ll be wonderful. Maybe later, Paulie. At the moment I was thinking something less entertaining. And if you’ll do it for me, I promise I’ll tell you something beautiful.” The promise John was offering him was quite tempting and it worked: Paul turned to look at him, lifting an eyebrow. “What is it?” “Well, do me a favour first, and then I’ll tell you. I’m not so stupid, am I?” The boy on the bed sighed, defeated, “Let’s see.” “Could you bring me that pair of white jeans in the closet, please?” “That’s all? What’s the matter with you? Your Highness is too exhausted for a little walk?” It was literally just a walk, two fucking steps, Paul thought dragging himself on his feet. “Hey, someone is working really hard here and it’s not you. And, I’m sorry for asking you, sir, but haven’t you come here to help me? “I came just to say goodbye, that’s all. Now I’m regretting it.” John giggled, getting back to his task: putting clothes, underwear and anything else in the suitcase. Paul opened the closet and looked for John’s white jeans on the shelves. He hated those jeans. John was irresistible with them on, and Paul have seen him pulling too many birds in Liverpool. Did he have to bring those to Durness? Why couldn’t he choose something else? Biting his lower lip to hold back his sudden jealousy attack, Paul tried to focus on his task. When he saw the jeans, he reached for them and started to pull back, but his attention was caught by something else. It was the well-known colour of a roughly folded shirt, hidden between the messy and crumpled clothes. He immediately recognised that shirt: it was the same shirt John was wearing when they met for the first time three years ago. Three long, wonderful, perfect years ago. Paul grabbed it and stared, unaware he had a very stupid smile on his lips. He was caught up remembering that day, how fucking awesome was seeing John playing and singing for the first time, how Paul was thrilled while he was performing in front of someone that looked like bloody Elvis. So when John called him, Paul jumped. “What’s up?” “Oh, nothing.” Paul said, trying to hide his embarrassment, “I just found this one.” “So what?” John’s confused look made him worrying. “You don’t remember, do you?” “I remember it’s a terrible shirt.” John pointed out, looking at it with a sneer, “How the fuck could I even wear it?” Paul sighed and looked the shirt with a very deep desire, “If you don’t like it anymore, can I take it?” “Don’t even talk about it. At least you must tell me first what it should remind me. I have to know what sort of relic I’m giving away.” “Well, if you don’t remember it, maybe it’s not important for you. Don’t you think?” Paul asked very disappointed, throwing the jeans across his face. John stared to Paul’s pout for a while, then he walked over him and pushed the boy on the bed. “What the fuck are you going to do?” Paul complained, trying to get up again. All his efforts were useless, John was faster and climbed on him, pinning him down against the mattress with his body’s weight. “I am a fucking egocentric and forgetful prick, Paul! Tell me now and don’t act like a fucking pansy. It’s just so stupid.” “Me.” Paul burst out, “It has to remind you of me.” John seemed to think about it very well, before he had an enlightenment, and then he smiled. “Oh, yeah, it’s that shirt, isn’t it?” Paul curled his lips in a deeper pout, and looked away towards the shirt. It has slipped away from his hands when John had grabbed his wrists. “Paul, you’re so cute when you’re mad at me, but please, don’t be.” Paul just ignored him. “Come on, you know how I am. It’s not really my fault, is it?” John mumbled, holding the tip of Paul’s nose between his fingers. Paul sighed, “Sadly.” John bend down, rubbing his face against Paul’s soft cheek, “Please, smile for your good old Johnny.” Paul turned to look at him again and stared at John’s begging little smile, so close to Paul that the younger lad shivered unconsciously in his arms. “All right then, cheeky bastard.” John seemed satisfied when Paul smiled at him. Finally. “However I can’t really give it to you, now. I perfectly remember its sentimental value.” John said grabbing the shirt with a hand and hiding it behind his back. “It’s not fair.” “It’s mine, after all. Perfectly fair. Why the hell do you want it anyway?” “Because I like it and it reminds me of you.” “You don’t need this to remember me, do you?” John whispered on Paul’s lips. The younger lad stared at that sweet and familiar mouth with longing, mumbling something very stupid, “Do I?” John shook his head, and then he went down and kissed him, tenderly and passionately, so much that Paul was left with red cheeks and out of breath. Maybe, maybe!, John managed to make him forget about that bloody shirt. “And… mm… that was the beautiful thing you had to tell me?” But not that, apparently. What a memory, Macca! “Yeah, that was it, stupid git.” “It wasn’t exactly something to tell, was it?” And then John laughed, before kissing him again and again. “Really, Paul, how fucking fussy you are?” And again and again… ***** Paul held the shirt in his hands. The memory, even if so far away, was still so vivid and alive that raised powerful feelings in him. Feelings that would have overwhelmed him right now and then, if Linda didn’t come along. “What is it?” “Oh, nothing, darling. Present from some fan.” Linda stared at the shirt with a smile, before turning towards her husband, “They never gave you a shirt, did they?” “No.” Paul said with a smile, “Never.” The woman giggled and picked up one of the chocolates boxes for the girls. Paul looked again at the shirt, noticing a little note that was sticking out from the small pocket. He immediately took it to read it, even if he already knew what was written on. And most important, who had written it. ‘Happy anniversary, Paul.’

[babylon-bitch]

Just Friends ~ Overdosing On Heartbreak (part 43)

Harper White is best friends with Luke Hemmings, they always have been. Not only is she friends with the rockstar, but with the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer, as well as a really nice girl named Erika.

Harper has a few secrets, she can play all the instruments the boys play and many more. It’s a talent she has kept hidden, only very few people know.

What will happen to the six teens, wondering around the world together?

Warnings: sadness and language

***

It’s like when you can’t sleep. This overwhelming sense of numbness, so you just stare at the wall or look at the darkness when your eyes are closed. You can’t even think about things properly, you just sigh every five minutes. There’s literally nothing you can do, all you can do is just lay there and wish you could sleep.

Here I am, sitting on the loveseat, lacking love and overdosing on heartbreak. Just glaring at the ground or my fingers, leaning my face on my fingers, my middle finger over my mouth to suppress my emotions, the other finger on the side of my face, so my fingers are in the shape of an ‘L’. “You want anything Harper?” My mum asks but it sounds so far away, as I’m lost in my thoughts.

“Uh, n-no thanks, mum.” I sigh and give her the biggest smile I can muster this moment, which isn’t very big.

I watch as everyone is eating food, watching tv, laughing with each other, or talking with one another. Where as I am drowning in my own misery, not even on my phone or watching tv, I’m just glaring at the ground, trying to process this fucked up information and going back on old memories.

“Hi,” I get disturbed by Evie, my mum, and Angus.

“Uh, hello?” I question.

I watch as Evie and my mum sit down on the sofa, whilst Angus sits on the floor facing me, Angus being being joined by Bess.

“What’s up?” Evie asks with a sympathetic voice.

“Nothing.” I dismiss.

I haven’t told anyone yet, he left a few hours ago, then I went up to my room, cried for a solid hour, before I came downstairs and was being antisocial

“Don’t give us that bullshit, Harper. What’s going on between you and Luke?” Angus demands and my stomach sinks by the sound of his name being said.

A thin layer of tears cloud my vision and I take a deep breath in. “We broke up.” I confess with a shrug and a few tears drop down.

“Aw, Harp.” My mum coos and gives me a small side hug.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you break up?” Evie gingerly asks.

“Please don’t make me say it.” I shake my head.

“C'mon, Harper.” Angus pushes.

“I can hardly believe it myself, I don’t even know how he could do such a thing.” I say.

“Just tell us.” Mum begs.

“Are you gonna get back together?” Evie questions.

All of a sudden all these questions are thrown at me and I can’t deal with it. I get up and tears stream down my face. “He fucking cheated on me, happy now?” I shout and run up the stairs, sobs racking through my body. Slamming my door shut which causes my whole room to shake.

There’s far too many memories of him in here or anywhere that I look in this house.

You can bet I won’t be staying here for too long.

Ashton’s p.o.v.

Usually Luke and Harper would come in hand in hand or at least touching in some sort of way, but today, Luke comes in looking so empty and lifeless, whilst on his own. Of course, there’s the chance that Harper is busy and Luke just misses her so much.

“Hey,” we all greet.

“Hi.” His voice sounds so raspy and as he comes closer, I notice his eyes are quite red.

“Where’s Harper?” Calum questions and he slightly flinches.

“I don’t know.” He says and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, just stares at the ground.

We all look at each other with a confused expression.

“Okay, why isn’t she here with you?” Michael asks.

“I don’t know, okay?” He snaps.

“Should I call he-”

“Can we please just stop talking about her, please?” He cuts Erika off.

“Sure, um what do you want to talk about?” Maddie asks and they all drift off into a conversation about some new song one of their favourite artist released. I continue to observe Luke, how he keeps running his hand through his hair or over his face, bouncing his leg up and down, keeps playing with his lip ring, and is just staring at nothing.

“Luke, what’s wrong? Did you have an argument with Harper or something?” I blurt out.

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” I hear him mutter. “Nothing is wrong.” He sighs.

“Don’t lie to me, Luke.” I warn. “What’s going on?” I ask with a stern voice.

We watch him sigh before he rubs his eyes and takes in a big breath.

“I did somthing really bad and fucked up to her.” He says and purses his lips.

“What did you do?” Calum warily asks.

Luke inhales harshly before throwing he head back and exhaling. He faces us again and puts his face in his hands, refusing to meet our inquisitive eyes.

“Luke,” Michael sighs in annoyance.

“I cheated on my girlfriend, best friend, first and probably my only love, and soulmate.” He confesses.

The room goes dead silent and we all just stare at each other. “W-why?” Erika blurts out.

“I don’t fucking know, I was drunk, was craving her comfort, really horny, this stupid girl came onto me, I needed her so I just took the closest thing to me. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” He admits.

“Damn right it was.” I say.

“Luke you are such an arse, why would you do that to her?” Calum asks, raising his voice

“I didn’t do this on purpose. I’ve kept it in for months, it’s been eating me alive. Now she’ll be in her bedroom crying her eyes out, just laying there, thinking what she did wrong, when it’s me that’s fucked it all up.” Luke cries.

“I take it you guys broke up?” Erika questions.

“No, we’re still together after I destroyed her heart into a million pieces,” Luke sarcastically replies. “Of course we fucking broke up, I would if I were in her position. I ruined it all, for no real fucking reason.”

“I honestly can’t believe you, Luke. Out of all the people…” I trail off.

“I don’t believe myself either, I don’t know what to do. I obviously can’t win her back, it’s not that type of situation. She’s never gonna forgive me, I didn’t just lose my girlfriend of a year today, I lost 18 years of friendship too.” He sobs.

“It’s really your year anniversary today?” Calum asks.

“Yeah, I know it’s fucked up, but I couldn’t keep it in over our anniversary. I told her a couple of days ago, I couldn’t deal with it any longer, she literally had no idea. We were about to, well do some stuff, before I realised I can’t keep doing this to her anymore. I kept it in over Christmas, she told me it was one of the best Christmas’ ever, I wish I could’ve said the same, but I couldn’t. It was one of the worst ever, she was so happy yet she had no idea of what I’d done.” Luke explains. He chuckles and stares straight ahead, “I’ve been going through our old texts, picture, and videos, we were so funny and cute. I had to put everything down before my eyes became Niagara Falls.” He says with a slight smile.

“You’ll both move on, live you lives, maybe in misery for the next couple of months, but you can’t be hung up on each other forever. Soon enough you’ll both be busy and forget about each other. Maybe it’s for the best you know, you were both a mess because of the distance. Harper can experience uni life to the fullest, without being held down in a serious relationship, you can get on with life, without having to worry about her or text each other constantly. I believe that everything happens for a reason.” Maddie speaks up.

“I don’t want to move on, I don’t want to forget her, I don’t want to not worry about her safety all the time, I want to constantly text her.”  

Harper’s p.o.v.

I’ve decided to fly back to Sheffield today, I couldn’t handle being in my room surrounded by all these memories, let alone waking up to a picture of him every morning.

I have still got two weeks before I am supposed to go back to school. It will be good to actually be able to do some revision properly and not be interrupted my children asking “What you doing?” Not gonna lie, I really wanted to throw one of them across the room or punch one of them. I’d never do that, but I wanted to.

I’m currently walking up the corridor to my apartment, I finally reach my door, craving my bed after so long. Patting my pockets for my keys, but finding nothing but flatness. This can’t happen again, I swear to God.

Patting all my pockets, then searching my bag, before concluding that I left them back in Australia.

“Fuck,” I whine and hit my head on my door.

Pulling my phone out, I decide to call my landlord, so I hold the phone to my ear, hearing it ring till the final one.

This is going to be a long evening.

I sit down against the opposite wall to my door, and continue to call my landlord whilst constantly sighing.

“Harper?” A voice interrupts my thoughts.

I look up and I’m surprised to be met by Blake.

“Blake? What are you doing here?” I answer his question with a question.

“I’m here to feed this girl’s hamster, what are you doing here already?”

“Oh, okay,” I laugh and get up to hug him, he wraps his arms around my waist and I wrap mine around his neck.

“How come you are here already?” He asks.

I sigh and look down, debating weather or not to tell him or not. “Uh, some stuff went down back home, it was also quite hard to concentrate with four children constantly prodding you for attension.” I spin a joke on the end.

“Wanna talk about it?” He sincerely questions.

“There’s nothing to talk about really, I trusted someone I shouldn’t of in the end.” I vaguely tell him and purse my lips. “I also forgot my keys, so I’m locked out.” I admit.

“Oh, classic Harper.” He laughs.

“It’s not funny, I literally have no way of getting in.” I pout.

“Tori locked herself out once and if I remember correctly, there should be a spare key,” he trials off and searches on top of the door frame, where a tiny rectangular box is placed, “Here.” He smirks and pulls out a silver key.

“I always wondered what they were for,” I say and he passes me the key.

“Well, I’m gonna go feed George and then do you want to hang out?” He questions.

“Uh yeah, sure, how long will you be?” I question.

“No longer than 10 to 15 minutes, I have to clean his cage, then give him some attension.” He explain.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit, have fun.” I wave and enter my apartment.

Leaving my suitcase by the door and flopping straight onto the sofa, face first. I probably look so gross right now, just conealer, mascara, and tinted lipbalm on my face. I’ve got my usual clothing attire on, a black hoodie and some black ripped jeans, to my defense you don’t exactly get dressed up on a for-fucking-ever-flight.

Deciding I should probably freshen up, I brush my teeth, put some deodorant on, brush my hair, and put some fresh socks on.

I’m so glad I cleaned this place before I went home because I never would’ve gotten round to doing it any time soon.

I sit on the sofa with my legs in the coffee table, scrolling through Twitter, whilst I wait for Blake to come over.

After five more minutes, I hear a knock at the door, so I get up to go answer but get interrupted by my phone notifying me I have a text. Quickly checking who it is as I walk towards the door, but freezing as I read the all too familiar name.

Luke

Well in my phone he is: Lucas Hemmotron 🙊❤😚

I should probably delete the emojis and put his name as heartbreaker or fuckboy.

His message is just an apology, how much he loves me, and misses me. Shoving my phone in my pocket in a whole range of emotions.

“Hey, sorry I was talking to my mum,” I lie as I open my door for Blake.

“I can tell somthing is wrong, Harper.” Blake dives straight into the deep end.

“There’s nothing wrong.” I dismiss.

“I may not of known for that long of a time, but I can tell somthing is upsetting you. You don’t have to tell me, but it’s not good to keep things in. No one flies across the world just so they can concentrate.” He continues.

“Sit down,” I sigh.

We both go to the sofa, he sits on one end whilst I go on the other end. “I broke up with my boyfriend a couple days before our one year anniversary, I didn’t just lose my boyfriend, I lost my best friend.” I confess and he seems a bit taken back.

“Why’d you break up?” He asks.

“He cheated on me. I guess they warn you about some boys, but never your best friend. We were friends for eighteen years, Blake, and now that’s all gone because he couldn’t control himself.” I bitterly chuckle. “I guess the joke is over now.”

“What a dick.” He says.

“I know. My previous boyfriend cheated on me, have I just got cheating potential or something? Am I not lovable? Am I not even worthy of love? Do people just like to walk over me? I haven’t just lost him, I’ve pretty much lost all my Aussie friends, it would be too hard to see him again, and they are always together. We have the same friend group, I’m gonna have to walk into him at some point. I don’t want to lose them, just because he fucked this all up. Fuck, we’ve got the fans, it will probably take them a while to figure it out because we’re in different countries, but eventually they’ll figure it out.” I pour my thoughts out.

“Of course you are lovable, everyone is, despite who you are or what you’ve been through. So you had a bad ending with him, it’s just another chapter to your life, a story, maybe a heart breaking one, but another story. If you really have to see him again, you can’t avoid him you have to show him that you are still confident. You can’t let him control your life if he’s not even in it anymore, it might hurt for a couple of months, that’s understandable but you can’t spend all your time moping over him. I’m not telling you not to grieve, that’s an important step in this whole process, if you don’t greive, the pain from this loss will still be at the back of your mind everyday. It is a burden to carry all the time. If you try and suppress it, that will require more emotional effort and energy. It will surface on occasion and cause you more emotional pain, continuing to haunt until you deal with it adequately. So it’s important that you do allow yourself the time to greive these losses, then move on.” Blake says.

“How do you know this?” I ask after a couple of minutes of silence.

“I had a relationship that lasted just about a year when I was 16, I kept hurting her, I didn’t cheat on her, I just kept messing up, I hurt her one too many times, so I just called it quits. She probably thinks I’m a dick, I truly loved her, and to be quite honest, the only person I’ve ever loved. I’ve had flings since then but they never worked out, so I have just resulted in endless hookups. They can be great and all, but I just wonder if I’ll ever find someone I’ll love again. Maybe I’ll just be a 45 year old fuckboy.” He laughs at the end.

“Luke’s the first person I’ve ever loved, we were best friends for 18 years, you can’t just throw away that love. Do you know what she’s doing now?” I question.

“Not really, I try to avoid anything to do with her, it hurts too much. She should’ve started university this year. She could sing really well and I can play the guitar, so one of my favourite things to do was play together. She’d sing, because, well, I can’t, then I’d play guitar. We’d do it in my back garden and play Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles, it sounds kinda cringey but it is one of my favourite memories. I think you’d like her.” He explains.

“You play guitar?” I question.

“Yeah, do you?” He answers with a question.

“Um, yeah, yeah I do.” I admit for the first time ever. “I’ll go get my acoustic guitar.” I say and get up, heading towards my room.

I fairly recently got an electric guitar, an acoustic, a ukulele, a bass guitar, and a piano. I just couldn’t handle not being in any contact with any instrument, I needed somthing to calm me down when revision or just life got too much. So I ordered my electric guitar from a shop in Brighton, got the ukulele and acoustic from a shop and a few streets away, got my bass guitar from some etsy store, then I got my piano off eBay.

I got Matt, one of Blake’s friends to attach some fittings to the wall for me, then I hung my guitars on them, my piano is just in the corner with the ukulele on top of it. I’ve stored the amps in my closet and I’ve got a load of wires in a box on top of my wardrobe.

“Here,” I reveal as I walk in, holding the neck and sit down, before placing it on my thigh, checking if it’s in tune.

I play a song I’ve been working on recently, called Sick Of Losing Soulmates, I’m not singing the lyrics, I’m too shy. I haven’t quite finished the lyrics off either.

I stare at the ground as I think back on what/who the song is about.  

Playing the last string and taking my finger off the fret board.

“Woo!” Blake claps and I laugh and take my eyes off the floor. “Can you sing?” He asks.

“I can, but I’m not very confident.” I confess and pass him the guitar.

He throws some chords together and I watch as he bites his lip in concentration, somthing Luke does.

“Have you got any more instruments?” He asks after a while of talking about music.

“Yeah, I’ll show you, come with me.” I say and lead him towards my bedroom. “I have a piano, an electric guitar, bass, and a ukulele.”

“Holy shit, you could start a whole band with this.” He says in amazement.

“I also play the drums,” I add.

“And you’re self taught?” He questions.

“Pretty much.” I nod and sit down by the piano, opening up the lid.

Placing my slender fingers on the keys and begin to play a cover of Beautiful Tragedy by Mike Dignam, singing this time.

“Damn, girl. You’re really good.” Blake laughs from my bed.

“Come here,” I gesture and he gets up and sits next to me on the stool.

I place his fingers on specific keys and then move them slightly to the left.

After half an hour or so, he’s got a whole tune mastered. He takes his fingers off the black and white shiny keys. He looks down at me and I look up at him with a small genuine smile on my face. Losing myself in his blue eyes, he just looks so much like him. Blake places his hand on my neck, with his thumb on my jaw.

“Thank you.” I say.

“What for?” He questions.

“For helping me this evening, revealing your experiences, and taking my mind off things. It means a lot.” I tell him.

“Just doing what any other good friend would do.” He smiles and places a feather like kiss on my forehead.

He’s too much like him.

[gulescamisade]

New York:  Day 2

JOHN: - ASSUMING they ended up sleeping in an alley, John probably cuddled up with Kankri. However, he miserably wakes up over and over to vomit, straying farther away from the group during these excursions for courtesys sake. He gets more sweaty, stumbly and shaky the more this goes on-

ROSE: -She looks up from her typing to watch John. At some point he feels her hand on his back, rubbing in little circles.- Good morning. ROSE: It is a punctual wake up call, if I were pressed to say one good thing about this place.

JOHN: - he is NOT having a good morning but he wheezes and smiles anyway. He's chewing some peppermint gum, and still slathering on the Vicks which is helping somewhat- yeah, no kidding. bright and early in flavor town.

ROSE: As far as I can tell, based on the feed, no one else is in any danger. ROSE: Immediate danger, I should say. But we're not sure where Roxy, Jake, your father or the cherubs are.

ROSE: It could be a good sign that they're off the grid like that.

JOHN: - Thank you for providing a positive option he'll be choosing that one- yeah. i mean... my dad is with them. i'm not worried. he probably has things on lock down. - oh how ironic this statement is-

JOHN: d'ya want some water? the only food i have is cake but i have lots of water bottles. - also the sort of shock blankets EMTs carry. there were likely three that they all had to share. -

ROSE: Wherever it is, I presume it's better than what you'd get if Banksy were commissioned to construct a parody of a city.

ROSE: ...Yeah. that would actually help a lot.

JOHN: - passes her one-

JOHN: - SIGHS because he already really hates this place. - this is beyond banksy this is like what michael bay would've done if youd asked him for a dystopian flick. pretty on the nose, betty. just sayin...

ROSE: Nothing is on fire except for our reliable steel trash fire, John, and I would never insult our most stalwart ally that way.

ROSE: Although if I see one single depiction of Ronald McDonald anywhere, I am extraordinarily liable to flip a tit.

JOHN: well i hate to say it, Rose but in all likelihood your tit is getting flipped.

ROSE: I said a tit, John, not necessarily any of mine. Ronald -- can I call him Ronald? Is that deemed appropriate?-- likely has at least one under that puffy yellow garment.

ROSE: All I am saying is that it is likely to be golden brown on both sides.

ROSE: Not unlike the McGriddle.

JOHN: - laughs helplessly even tho he doesn't want to. STAHP-

ROSE: -She twists open the water bottle-- grateful that they've got something-- taking a sip. Her head still hurts, but it's normal style headache, not migraine getting nuked by all the lights of times square, so she can deal a lot better.- ROSE: I mostly have some of Baldur's baby food I prepared. ROSE: I doubt that will last terribly long, but I'd like to avoid any of the food here if we can help it.

ROSE: So, we have banana and peanut butter mush, and cake.

JOHN: maybe the others have some more stuff. - he doesn't wanna wake them up yet tho. let them rest... -

ROSE: Well, it could be a lot worse.

JOHN: hey I'm not knocking banana peanut butter mush. sounds good honestly. - except he's not interested in any food rn, he's too nauseated. the only reason he stopped vomiting is because is tum is empty except for water-

ROSE: It is. Protein and at least one kind of potassium. The possibilities are endless.

MEULIN: -She's slept pretty restlessly -- post-traumatic stress and dangerous locations will do that to you -- and only manages to sleep soundly once she sees familiar words scrolling over her sunglasses, knowing that at least someone else was awake to watch out in her stead. It was difficult having only so many senses, being unable to tell if any noise should alert them. Now, though, she stirs again, squinting in whatever haze of light manages to permeate the neon signs.-

http://www.guyfieri.com/wp-content/themes/guyfieri/images/xshow-header-bigbite.jpg.pagespeed.ic.2DQMNZ--Hj.jpg

[ GOOD MORNING MEULIN ]

MEULIN: -SQUINTS LOUDER AT THIS SIGN.- (GUY CAN TAKE A BIG BITE OF MY BOOTY.)

JOEY: =rubs at her eyes, sitting up= ...what guy?

[HE MIGHT]

ROSE: Fieri, comma.

ROSE: Morning.

JOEY: oh....

JOEY: he's still a thing?

ROSE: I took the liberty to scout by air a bit. I can confirm two things.

ROSE: One is that this city is hopelessly large, and most of the buildings are equipped with searchlights on the highest floors.

ROSE: The other is that he is very much still a thing.

ROSE: He's plastered all over the place.

JOEY: sorry ive been out of the loop in this universe for quite some time now

JOEY: i can tell you in some of them he is but a distant memory

JOEY: although it might be to give the world a false sense of security, waiting to rise again

MEULIN: UGGHH...

MEULIN: I'M SO MAD THAT MY BODY IS EVEN LETTING ME F33L HUNGRY RIGHT NOW.

ROSE: Let's start a fair clip back, actually.

ROSE: Should I be horrified by him? more so than everything else about this place, I mean?

[He's only the high chaplain of interstellar war. The key architect of the hilarocaust itself. Pay no mind to the fact that he ruthlessly murdered and cooked every supreme court justice in his rise to power]

JOEY: your guess is as good as mine =shrugs= i dunno what this version of him is supposed to be like

JOEY: hes either a harmless cook with his own tv show using way too much grease or not many really know about him

JOEY: here its obviously not the case

ROSE: Right.

ROSE: It's fine. We should eat, anyhow. Keep our strength up without succumbing to the Big Bite. Do any of you have food on you?

JOEY: oh shit! =rummages through her sylladex= i have a bag of milky ways!

ROSE: I wonder how long we can last on candy and baby food.

MEULIN: I HAVE. UM.

MEULIN: ...

MEULIN: ...EDIBLES...

JOEY: =places a milky way fun size bar on her sleeping brother's head=

ROSE: Edible what, exactly?

MEULIN: ...RR...

JOEY: boogers are edible, yet....im not feeling that

MEULIN: PRETZELS. AND... RICE KRISPIES...

MEULIN: BUT THEY'RE. YOU KNOW.

JOEY: ???

ROSE: I really don't. Although I should disclose I was working under the assumption you were talking about edible panties or body chocolate.

ROSE: So they're probably not worse than that.

JOEY: =LAUGHS=

MEULIN: HAHAHA!

MEULIN: UH... WELL THEY'RE. YOU S33... THEY ARE NIP INFUSED.

MEULIN: SO.........

ROSE: Oh.

ROSE: Well, that'll at least help us cope.

MEULIN: YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT, AND ALSO. WE PURROBABLY SHOULDN'T EAT TOO MANY IN ONE SITTING.

ROSE: We'll ration.

JOEY: hehehehehe

JOEY: we get high or get cavities

JOEY: it's a race to either

MEULIN: -casually pulls out Rice Krispies on that note... TIME TO GET FUCKING BLAZED. She offers one each to Joey and Rose.-

ROSE: ...Thank you. -TIME TO DO A WEED BREAKFAST. she might reconsider but she's sick of her head hurting, and she hasn't had a thing in her stomach since they arrived.-

JOEY: thanks

JOEY: =she wipes her hands on her pants before taking it. Does it help? Who knows?=

JOEY: =nibbles the krispie=

MEULIN: -They're pretty tasty and definitely Rice Krispie treats. They don't seem to taste any different than a normal one, but in about five to ten minutes they should feel a nice buzzy body high and a bit more floaty than before... depending on how high or low their tolerance is. They might be a lot floaty and a lot buzzy.-

JOEY: =she's a lusus vet. the occasion never called for drug use!=

JAMISON: =slowly lifts a manhole cover then jumps out of it. Where has this old man been?? Puts the cover back and scurries to the group= Oh fantastic you're eating! Here I've got some clean water. =thunks down a gallon jug, yes he's still shirtless... AND ARMED=

ROSE: -She's just starting to relax and let that buzzing feeling take over when JAMISON THE SUDDEN.-

ROSE: Fuck!

MEULIN: !! -IT'S THE RESPONSIBLE ADULT PARTY, EVERYONE SCATTER. But no she just smiles at Jamison.- HI! THANKS.

JOEY: =Nearly jumps out of her skin and fumbles with the rice krispie, almost dropping it. It's like when your parent catches you smoking! It's...almost like that, actually.=

ROSE: That was sudden. I figured you'd gone somewhere, but... It seems you went... There. This is good to have.

ROSE: Hello. Also.

JOEY: hiiii dad! um...where did you get the water?

JAMISON: Oh... didn't mean to give you all a start! Good morning! I'll go hunting down normal appearing meat later! No worries on the water I staked out a source and purified it myself with something I whipped up! :D

JOEY: =I knew it, it IS sewer water=

JAMISON: =LISTEN. SURVIVAL.=

ROSE: That's a relief. ROSE: We were just taking supply of what we've got. Suppose we'll be able to manage for long enough to figure which way is... out.

JAMISON: Any way can be out, missy! Haw! Simply pick a direction!

JOLENE: -waddles over after disappearing herself. this is a bad habit this family has.- agreed! and if it requires blowing holes into any of the buildings then i have explosives. :)

ROSE: Well. Shit. 

ROSE: Alright. I'd first want... a car. Because it seems kind of desperate if we're going to be making our getaway from acts of explosives on foot.

ROSE: I was thinking we could try and tail one of those freight trucks.

JOLENE: that's probably a good idea........ -she just wants to level this whole place-

JAMISON: =beams at Jojo= Like the old days!

ROSE: The old truck hijacking days.

JOLENE: it really takes me back...

JOEY: ive never heard this story =chinhands, munching on this riceweedie=

JAMISON: Oh! There's tons of stories we can tell!! =proudly beams=

ROSE: I'm sure there's... plenty of time.

JOHN: - HE GAVE MEULIN A LOOK LIKE... so it's you... you're the supplier. but given they're in a crisis situation he lets it slide. And takes a bite of a rice krispy hoping it will help with the nausea. -

JOLENE: yes, true. for now let's focus on getting out of here. -peeps the rice krispies- what have you got there?

ROSE: Breakfast. 

ROSE: Laced with a relaxant to dull the overwhelming stimulus of our environment.

ROSE: -WOW she's starting to think she's really good at being high-

JAMISON: They've scrounged up some-- oh? Hm........ 

JAMISON: So long as your reflexes are kept sharp!

JOHN: - How elegantly she puts it-

ROSE: :)

ROSE: :)

JOLENE: ... -squints-

JOLENE: are those weed rice krispies????????????????

ROSE: ...There is a mite touch of THC.

JAMISON: Awww come now Jojo! The youngsters aren't used to such dastardly dangers as we are!

JOHN: - please body digest these faster so he can feel not sick-

JOHN: - pleading with your body is a common medical practice don't you know-

JAMISON: Also it's a bit hard to find something that seems safe to consume out here.... I've even got looking for meat but I apparently haven't gone far enough on my last search!

JOHN: well i have lots of cakes

JOHN: they're safe... my dad made them.

JAMISON: Oh! Well that'll do finely! Good job old boy!

JOHN: it's not the most nutritious thing but...

JAMISON: Mustn't be picky about what you get to feast on in the wild, it could be the last meal you pass up! Haw!

MEULIN: CAKE IS GOOD. -thankfully being high makes you also want to eat just about anything... unless it's made by Guy, because fuck him.-

JOHN: - he breaks two out right now. months old but they're kept fresh although they might taste like they've been in hammer space for a little too long-

JOLENE: -frowns thinking about the cakes because she knows james is missing...- i'll have some cake. thank you, john.

JOHN: - he's frowning for the same reason-

JAMISON: I'll take one as well! Need to keep my wits sharp!! =THEY'LL FIND EVERYONE AND FIX JADE, BUCK UP EVERYONE!!!=

JAMISON: =HE BELIEVES!!=

JAMISON: Now then! I'll take that to go and SCOUT! :D

JOHN: -there's yellow cake that says HAPPY LATE DECEMBER and another one, chocolate that says HAPPY EARLY JANUARY

ROSE: Be careful. Try to avoid shooting anything.

ROSE: -EYES the cakes. REALLY, EGBERT FAMILY...-

JOLENE: .... -james............-

JAMISON: =DIBS ON THE YELLOW CAKE, pistol-winks at Rose= No promises but I will gather a route for us so get your rears in gear!!

JAMISON: And drink some water!

ROSE: -She is interrupted by a STOMACH GROWL. She levitates over a pretty large slice with her majyyks.-

JOLENE: -grabs a slice of chocolate cake and gobbles it down. YUM.-

JOHN: - HE makes sure everyone gets a large slice except himself because he's waiting for the cannabis to kick in-

JAMISON: =Bends down to touch his toes, stretches this way and that. If they're in the alley still he takes a running start at the wall and hardcore parkours his way up to the roof of one of the buildings= TALLY-HO!!!! =There he goes....=

JOHN: - bemused amazement at Jamison-

JOLENE: ... there he goes.

MEULIN: ...-shimmery eyes.- I WOULD TOTALLY DO THAT IF HE INVITED ME.

JOEY: so now we have dessert, candy, and happy times to fuel our energy =giggles=

ROSE: I... You know, that sort of reminds me. 

ROSE: Obviously you are not beholden to stay, but I haven't seen any other trolls, outside of our group. Right? Just humans and... Less... Healthy looking humans.

JOHN: that is weird now that you mention it...

JOEY: if the troll to human ratio is low here, theres a chance of another group out there with one human surrounded by trolls 

JOEY: =presses meulin's nose= boop

JOHN: hehehehe... boop! - does it too-

MEULIN: -IS BOOP!!!- (=ﾟ･ﾟ=) 

MEULIN: PRRP! -bunts at their hands. Pet her.-

JOHN: - It's good luck! he gladly gives her head scratches. -

MEULIN: MAYBE THERE'S A FLEASON. PRRRRR.

JOHN: i kind of imagined... more trolls?

ROSE: Yeah...

JOEY: =Pats Meulin's hair floof, shrugging=

JOEY: maybe were meant to be here

JOEY: if youre saying this isn't a coincidence

JOHN: -...THAT IS NOT A COMFORTING THOUGHT-

JOEY: =sorry! it's not a lullaby to her either=

ROSE: I don't doubt there was intent in the decision.

ROSE: What I would like to find is the purpose behind this place.

ROSE: What these glamorous banalities mask.

ROSE: You know, that shit.

MEULIN: PRRR PRRR... 

MEULIN: NOT GOOD STUFF. WHY WOULD THE EMPURR WANT TO F33D PEOPLE?

ROSE: Chemicals, probably. Fuck it.

JAMISON: =APPEARS again= Mind-control! Well.. it's a theory. Also if you have the necessities then you control the land. 

JAMISON: A typical tactic done with water mostly but food isn't any different!

ROSE: Chemicals. -nods-

JOHN: maybe the food is... - dramatic pause- PEOPLE

JOHN: nah just kiddin

JOHN: or not..???

ROSE: Let's not rule anything out.

JAMISON: True, we should keep open minds so to not be surprised! JAMISON: Whatever these devils are eating isn't good for them and I can't say cannibalism does a body good!

MEULIN: .....

MEULIN: UMM...

MEULIN: WELL...

JUDE: -he's in the bg here just perpetually going hhhhhhh-

MEULIN: I'M PURRETTY SURE THAT'S STILL A THING ALTERNIA DOES...

JAMISON: =Peeps Jude.......=

JAMISON: Well yes, for you troll lot it is fine you're biology is capable of handling it. The same can't be said with our own digestive system. =Do you need a hug Jude? A sweaty, shirtless, hairy dadhug?=

MEULIN: BLEH. MEULIN: BUT WASN'T THERE A SIGN ABOUT D33P FRYING BABIES?

MEULIN: -stares off into the neon distance...-

JAMISON: Then it's quite possible that cannibalism has been introduced or even forced upon locals!

JUDE: -nO NOT REALLY DAD BUT THANKS...-

JUDE: okay but haven't you noticed the traits the humans around here are taking on?

JUDE: ashen skin... they've got growths on their heads??

JUDE: it'd make sense if they're being forced to eat their own

JUDE: if the condesce is trying to convert humanity to troll customs-- no, worse

JUDE: convert them into trolls themselves

[No? Maybe. Look, it's a decent proposal. However, no, there aren't any signs EXPLICITLY advertising frying babies, or any other humans for that matter.]

MEULIN: -SHE COULD SWEAR SHE SAW ONE LAST NIGHT-

JAMISON: Why that's a silly thing to do EVEN FOR Fish Hitler...... =squints= so she might just be doing it..... JAMISON: Confound it the seabeast is no genius when it comes to biology!.... Perhaps capturing one for testing is necessary....

JAMISON: I'm sure I would whip up a DNA analyzer!

MEULIN: OH... -geck face- THAT'S SO SUPURR GROSS?? WHY WOULD ANYBODY DO THAT???

JOEY: its a motivation if the fish queen wants an army of mindless followers

JOEY: rebuilding her race to the extent that all choice or doubt in her reign has been taken from them

MEULIN: MAYBE SHE SHOULD CLAWNSIDER REBUILDING HER BUTT WHEN I PUT MY FOOT IN IT. -grumpy growls. This cat does not like this town.-

JAMISON: Well said! There's ample space for my fists of fury along with your boot old girl!

MEULIN: OH MY GOD I ONLY JUST REALIZED YOU CAME BACK.

ROSE: Haha. Fuck.

MEULIN: WE JUST HAD A CONFURSATION AND EVERYTHING.

JAMISON: Right-o! Never stray for long when there's work to be done!

JAMISON: So, seeing how shooting is against the group consensus what about capturing?

ROSE: I could justify that, yes.

ROSE: We want to avoid a ruckus until we're certain they cannot corner us.

MEULIN: (ฅ•ω•ฅ) MEULIN: I'M GOOD AT POUNCING. I'VE B33N PRACTICING MY WHOLE LIFE.

JOEY: .....(adorable...)

JAMISON: Meulin! Would you like to capture a zombie with me? :D

MEULIN: -SNRKS and nudges bashfully at Joey. She heard that!!!-

JAMISON: =Holds up a net he made=

MEULIN: OH HELLS YES.

[ LOOK AT THIS NET THAT I JUST FOUND ]

JOHN: i think we should establish a base first that isn't an alley out in the open :0

JOHN: what about hijacking one of those trailers

ROSE: Was there room in those sewers?

JAMISON: Do we plan on being here for long? JAMISON: We could appropriate a building!

JOHN: - scratches under beard as he considers all these options-

ROSE: No, we need to catch up with the others. And despite her enthusiasm, I don't think Jolene has enough bombs to demolish this whole place.

JAMISON: Oh, well that's just a matter of creating more.

JOEY: we should keep a low profile before coming up with a solid game plan

JOEY: THEN we can make things blow up

JAMISON: Hm.... actually I would like to meet this "Guy" and take all his files.

ROSE: Well. Ideally, we would have a bomb on the side of town opposite we're going to escape from.

JOHN: hmm we're more than 20 hours from minnesota... if we somehow scored a trailer we could get out of town quickly if we need to and then take turns sleeping on the way there...

JAMISON: That is my near-end game to see what the devil is going on!

ROSE: Establish some sort of distraction.

JOEY: or direction

JOEY: if were going to sightsee, lets make an itinerary

JOEY: =smiles blissfully=

JOHN: - takes a deep breath. his stomach feels better and his nausea is gone. - those were really bomb ass rice krispies, meulin.

JOHN:... you still have that pb and banana...

ROSE: -SNORTS and laughs uncontrollably-

JOHN: @Rose

ROSE: -slides a lil plastic baby food container towards JOHN-

JOHN: - here he is, a grown ass man with a child eating baby food-

MEULIN: YOU ARE FURRY WELCOME.

JOHN: - incredible-

JOHN: - also he feels all tingly-

MEULIN: -she hasn't kept up with the conversation too terribly, thanks to the fact that she doesn't have to listen and can read it instead.- I THINK THE SEWERS MIGHT BE GOOD. THEY HAVE LITTLE AREAS DOWN THERE RIGHT?

MEULIN: IT WON'T SMELL GREAT BUT I THINK IT MIGHT BE BETTER THAN ICKY BUFFALO RANCH NOOK HELL.

JOHN: alright well... we have a lot of different ideas. and i honestly don't know what's the best choice.

JOHN: should we vote?

JOEY: =her eyes get spherical=

JOEY: theres such a place as buffalo ranch nook hell?

ROSE: Let's steal the zepplin.

JAMISON: I would like to have a base of operations and the sewers weren't so terrible for tha- oh a zepplin would be grand!

JOHN: is that a serious option because if so i like it.

JOHN: - HAS WIND POWERS-

ROSE: Yes. Fuck it. Fuck the sky. Let's steal it.

JOHN: yeah! - fist pump-

MEULIN: -leans toward Joey- WE'RE IN IT. WE ARE IN BUFFALO RANCH NOOK HELL.

JOEY: does anyone know how to actually fly one of those? it's hard from what i have heard :\

JOHN: oh, I have wind powers

JOHN: plus they probably do... - points at jo jo and jamison-

MEULIN: HE SAYS, SUPURR CATSUALLY.

JOHN: - he just takes for granted that the old people know everything-

JOHN: - floats as an example for joey-

ROSE: I, too, have powers, but I'd also think that hauling everyone up into the sky will attract a measure of attention we're not prepared for.

ROSE: Which is second to my previously stated stance, fuck the sky.

JAMISON: Oh! Yes you have been floating as of late I recall... =strokes mustache=

MEULIN: FUCK THE SKY!!

JOHN: ohhhh thats true. - considers this-

JOEY: ... =glances down at the rice krispie- aight, how strong is this stuff?

ROSE: Thank you.

MEULIN: I MEAN... IT'S A WHOLE KRISPIE...

MEULIN: (ฅ•ᆺ•ฅ)

JOHN: - only took a bite of his and put the rest wrapped up in his pocket-

JOEY: since when can people fly??

JOHN: it's not such a weird thing where we come from.

MEULIN: OH YEAH, PEOPLE FLY AROUND ALL THE TIME.

JOEY: i come from earth. this earth! everything is weird to me!

MEULIN: ARADIA HAS THESE TOTALLY BALLER WINGS, AND SO DOES MY BOSS ANGER STARE.

JOEY: anger....stare....

ROSE: Redglare.

JOHN: but like... if we had somewhere to land it, i could use wind currents to bring down the zep. maybe rose's psiionics could steady the landing.

MEULIN: (●ↀωↀ●)

ROSE: I am a psionic, of sorts. -Little finger sparks to demonstrate...-

MEULIN: BUT THEN WE WILL ALSO HAVE TO KILL WHOEVER IS ON BOARD! PURRBABLY.

MEULIN: RIGHT?

JAMISON: Probably!

JOEY: =whispers to meulin= (why is redstare so mad?)

JOHN: wow haha... settle down there.

JAMISON: Or capture them HAW!

JOHN: we don't have to kill anyone.

JOEY: =JUST....WATCHING THE SPARKS....LIKE ITS A NORMAL OCCURRENCE!=

MEULIN. -fails to whisper back- I THINK SHE HAS A BAD DAY, BUT LIKE, EFURRY DAY. WE SHOULD DO SOMETHING NICE FOR HER LATER.

MEULIN: -considers giving her boss weed... hmm-

JOEY: =gasps= does she like desserts? what about one of your riceweedies?

MEULIN: YES. I AM UPVOTING THIS PLAN.

JOHN: ok all in favor of trying to steal the zep say aye.

MEULIN: AYYYY ELL EM AY OH!

JOHN: that works.

JAMISON: AYE AYE!

JOEY: okay if you know what youre doing! :D

JOHN:... but we're not going to kill anyone unless they try to kill us first. - STERN GLANCING. -

MEULIN: OKAY CAPTAIN JOHN!

JOHN: - makes a face. don't even joke about that. he wants to hide behind rose. -

ROSE: And we should kidnap a... are we really going with Zombie? As a name?

MEULIN: -what?? IS HE NOT THE ZEPPELIN CAPTAIN AND/OR TEAM CAPTAIN?? JEEEEEZ-

JAMISON: I haven't the slightest what the devil else to call them.

MEULIN: I AM ALSO VOTING FOR "SQU33BS."

JOHN: hey we can knock out two birds with one stone. there has to be a pilot, right?

ROSE: Yes, but I doubt the people down here are running anything of importance.

ROSE: I mean, look at them.

MEULIN: CATCH ONE SQU33B, HOP ON BLIMP, NYOOM OFF INTO THE SUNSET.

JOHN: maybe the pilot will know more. - head scratcher-

JAMISON: By the time you all have the zeppy down Meulin and I should have one secure.

MEULIN: YUP!!

JOHN: alright. that works too!

JOEY: =starts singing, clapping john on the back= 

JOEY: she says that my life is over 

JOEY: "boy you don't know what you got till it's gone 

JOEY: come put your head upon my shoulder" 

JOEY: she gave me her hand but i ignored her 

JOEY: oh dr. john 

JOEY: what am i doing 

JOEY: what am i doing i wrong? 

JOEY: cuz i keep on trying 

JOEY: something ain't going 

JOEY: something ain't going on 

JOEY: oh dr. john

JOHN:... - THIS CHILD. he loves her already-

MEULIN: -she would sway but she has no idea this is a song-

JOHN: - pushes her playfully- get back jojo!

JOEY: =im 37 my dude=

JOHN: - he has no idea-

JOHN: - you're like 10+ years older than him-

JOEY: =theres probably something in grubloaf tbh=

JAMISON: =PLUS GOOD GENES=

JOEY: =aww you say that cuz im your kid=

JAMISON: =Also he and Jojo have THE BEST GENES. Spry old folks=

JOEY: =that she wont deny=

[spaceskam]

when you’re good to mama

day 4 of my 12 (actually 13) days of gifts! This time we have a sequel to my fic can I give you what you need for @chamblerstara who’s ao3 and tumblr I stalked to make sure I had to correct one, so hi I’m super familiar with all your titles and I hope you like this!

ao3

“Is Michael in?”

The woman at the door eyed Alex up and down. It made him keenly aware that he probably should’ve gotten out of his uniform before he traveled this way. The problem was that he’d had Michael on his mind for two days and he couldn’t think straight without him. He didn’t want to think about anything but him. War was boring. Boys with calloused fingers and soft stomachs were decidedly not.

“You’re the soldier?” she asked. He didn’t really know how to respond, so she just stepped outside completely. She was an older woman, hair gone white and pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Alex’s first thought was that this was the aforementioned Mama.

“Um, yes, ma’am,” he said. She raised her chin, making Alex feel small under her gaze even though she was much shorter. He supposed that had everything to do with her running a whore house by herself. She needed to be threatening to keep everyone safe. He could respect that.

“Is there a reason you’re looking for my boy?” she asked. Alex licked his lips.

“I, uh,” he paused, trying to think of something better than ’I miss him’. That would just be embarrassing. “We agreed to meet again. So… I came to meet him.”

Mama looked him up and down, cocking her head to the side as she stared him down. Alex shifted under her gaze.

“My boy is very special, very bright,” she said, crossing her arms, “I know he might do somethings that aren’t entirely up to what you might consider proper, but he earns an honest living. He’s going to be someone someday. I think you hanging around here will only make that harder for him. Do you understand?”

Alex gulped, “Yes, Ma’am.” Part of him wanted to argue and explain that he didn’t really care about any of that. He just wanted to see him again. However, that sounded like a bad idea. 

“So off you go,” she said, not really giving him any other options.

Alex nodded and she very quickly went inside without saying goodbye. He sighed and considered knocking again. He knew Michael didn’t believe that they were going to see each other again, so it felt even extra wrong to just leave without a fight. But he didn’t want to piss Mama off either. He was stuck.

“Alex?” 

Alex turned around to see Michael in boys’ clothing. It was a whole new sight to see and he would be lying if he didn’t say he was in love with it. He had dirt smudges on his face and his hands and sweat-soaked hair. Alex remembered that he said he was a farmhand. He surely looked the part.

“Hello,” Alex said, gulping softly as he took in the sight. Michael grinned.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Coming to see you,” Alex said, “I met Mama.”

Michael’s face dropped for a second. “She didn’t like you, did she?”

“I’m in uniform, of course, she didn’t,” Alex laughed softly. Michael nodded, looking around before grabbing Alex’s collar and pulling him inside. It was the best thing to happen all day.

Alex was tugged up the stairs and into the same bedroom he’d reluctantly left two days prior. It felt like a lifetime ago. Michael pulled him in close, dirty hands caressing him over the uniform. Alex liked to think this is what life was meant to be.

“Just, you know, don’t tell Mama,” Michael whispered, a little smile on his lips as he moved in for a kiss.

“Wait, you’re not gonna question me? Make me work for it?” Alex asked, though he was already letting his hands roam. Michael chuckled softly and held up his hands.

“I already did.”

-

“Is Michael in?”

“What did I tell you about comin’ ‘round here?”

Alex blinked hard and smiled as nicely as he could. He was in his civvies, he looked casual enough to not be suspicious, and he was just really trying his damnedest to look presentable so she would like him for Michael. He wanted to be good enough.

“I-I was hoping that, since I’m not obviously a soldier, I wouldn’t draw attention and I could come see him,” Alex said. Mama sighed, stepping outside completely again. 

“Do you understand that you coming here, dressed up in your uniform or not, you draw attention? Not by the people who live beside us, but by your soldier friends and boss. Do you know what they’ll do if they find out what goes on here? Do you know that you will ruin my boy’s life if they find out what you do with him? It’ll ruin yours too,” she explained, not giving him any space to deny. Mainly because he couldn’t. “Maybe if you were someone who wouldn’t be missed it wouldn’t be as hard. But your absence is noticed.”

“I told them I was seeing a woman,” Alex relayed truthfully, “They think I’m at her place.”

Mama shook her head, reaching up to pat him on the cheek. It felt demeaning, but he also assumed he deserved it.

“Son, let’s think of it this way, a way you might understand,” she began, “How long are you staying here in this town?”

“Another year,” he answered truthfully. She pursed her lips and nodded.

“And then what?”

“Well, I’m not sure.”

“And where do you think that leaves my boy?” she asked. Alex’s shoulders sunk. “Listen, I understand that you think you can hide him, but if you can’t he gets hurt. And if you can, he gets hurt. My job is to protect him. And protect him I will.”

“I really care about him. Maybe after I leave I can still come back and see him. Or something. I’m not sure, I just really like him,” Alex tried. Mama took a deep breath and shook her head at him.

“I know you do. He’s impossible not to like. But that doesn’t mean you need to be around him,” she said. Alex gulped and nodded. She had a point. A point he didn’t quite like, but a point nonetheless.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, go on,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alex watched as she disappeared inside. And then he did nothing as he was tugged around to the side of the house. He was shoved against the wall of the dark alley. Michael stood in front of him, all dolled up and grinning. He’d probably returned from one of his rich old women.

“You came back,” he whispered.

“I’ll always come back,” Alex assured him.

Michael kissed him until he couldn’t breathe.

-

“Oh, you are asking for trouble.”

“If you’re the one punishing, absolutely.”

Alex had stayed overnight. He knew it was stupid, but it was his day off and he wanted to wake up next to Michael. He was tired of sneaking around Mama. He just wanted to pretend he had a real relationship and that he and Michael could just be. He knew that wasn’t possible, but he liked to pretend.

Michael slowly propped himself up on his elbow in the tiny bed, leaning over Alex and giving him the best kiss he’d ever woken up to. Maybe it was the only one, but still. He hummed against Michael’s lips, pulling his nude body closer, closer, closer because it was never close enough. He just wanted to be fused into him sometimes. Again, that wasn’t allowed.

“Please,” Alex whispered, begging for nothing in particular. Michael seemed to act nonetheless and pressed harder, squishing Alex between his body and the bed and leaving absolutely no room for anything unpleasant.

And then the door opened and they were forced to make room for all things unpleasant.

“You’re quite persistent when you want something, aren’t you?” Mama asked as she stood there, not at all seeming phased by what she was seeing. She clearly expected it. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was just stared at them.

Michael had sat up whenever she walked in, staring up at her with big, childish eyes. Alex didn’t know what to say. It felt worse than being caught by his father. At least he could expect the consequences with him.

“I really like him, Mama,” Michael said, his voice softer than Alex had ever heard it, “I wanna keep seeing him.”

“I know you do, and clearly he wants that as well,” she sighed. Alex gulped softly.

“I do.”

She raised her head and stared Alex down for a moment. He held eye contact. His father always made him hold eye contact.

“Stay for dinner tonight, if you can, Soldier. Clearly, you’re going to be around and I don’t like things happening in my house without me knowing,” she explained. He nodded. “And I don’t like that you felt the need to keep it a secret, even if you’re shit at keeping secrets.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Michael said, nodding. He smiled at her and she seemed helpless not to smile back. 

Charming indeed.

When she left them alone again, Michael turned to him with a grin that was even wider.

“She likes you,” he said. Alex looked at him incredulously.

“What? Where did you get that from?”

“She didn’t threaten to shoot you, she asked you to stay for dinner,” Michael pointed out. Alex let out a breathy laugh, suddenly very thankful he was staring down the barrel of a gun. Instead, he was being touched by a man who was his. Sort of, at least.

“Sounds good.”

-

“Soldier, come here for a moment.”

Alex waded through the sea of women that all seemed to find it all too adorable that Michael had a boy over for dinner. They were poking and prodding at him, cooing and praising all the way. It was overwhelming to him, but Michael seemed more than used to it. It reminded him of what Michael had said about them all mothering him.

He entered the kitchen where Mama had called him, watching as she prepared a large dinner for her large family. He found that endlessly charming though he could never voice it. Mama looked up at him.

“I want you to know that I am doing this as a favor to my boy,” she said. He nodded curtly. “He hasn’t had much of his own in this life and you seem to want him. I think it’ll be good to know that he is wanted and loved, even if it’s temporary. But you need to do good by him.”

“Oh, I will, I promise,” Alex said. He was honest. He wanted nothing but to be good to him.

“I mean it. If I hear one little thing, I will have your ass, I don’t care if you’re a soldier,” Mama threatened. Alex nodded.

“All I want is for him to be happy,” Alex said. She nodded.

“Then we have something in common.”

Alex let her eye him once again, let her stare him down and stared right back with nothing but respect. Then she nodded and waved him back to the living room where he was welcomed back beside Michael. He didn’t ask what they spoke about; Alex was sure he already knew.

“I’m glad that you’re here,” Michael whispered, kissing his cheek. Alex ignored the chorus of women ‘aw’ing at him.

“Me too.”