#he's kinda cursed but i knew he was gonna come out looking a bit funky

[dove-da-birb]

oh my gosh, Potato Grim can see now? That's great!!

but what mischief will he get into now that he has vision...? 😈

Potato Grim can see now! I need to reposition the eyes though, so he's losing eyesight privileges when I get around to altering him.

He looks like he has no brain cells, and/or he's cursed with thoughts; most likely both.

The mischief he'll get in; arson.

Things I watched as I made both his ears and eyes today (six pieces)

Spirit; Stallion of the Cimarron

Dungeons & Dragons; Honour Among Thieves

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

--

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

--

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

--

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

--

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

--

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

--

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

--

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

--

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

--

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

--

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

--

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

--

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

--

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

--

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

--

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

--

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

[idontblushsrry]

How the Jujutsu Kaisen Characters Smell

A/N: Absolutely no one asked for this but I have thoughts and now yall have to hear them. Btw gonna put a keep reading because I’m trying to cover as many jjk characters as possible so it’s gonna get long.

Warnings: Spoilers if you’ve only seen the anime or haven’t read the manga up to the Shibuya Arc (relatively minor but you’ve been warned)

Itadori

He’s nowhere near the best smelling but his scent isn’t awful 

He sweats a lot so he takes showers a minimum of 2x a day

Overall his smell isn’t that bad, he just smells like outside 

5/10 points for effort but he always smells like he just got done rolling around in grass

Fushiguro

Fushiguro smells like the suave ocean breeze body wash with an undertone of pen ink 

His smell is very nice, it’s not the most remarkable but it’s not stinky

Middle school Megumi was definitely a hot mess that smelled solely of axe body spray and other middle schoolers he beat up (Tsumiki tried her best but there was only so much he’d compromise on)

After he started attending the Tokyo school, Maki threw out his axe and made Gojo buy him actual cologne/scented body wash

7/10 smells like a friend (points reduced because he used to use 3 in 1 body wash)

Kugisaki

Kugisaki is very much clean

She keeps up a beauty regimen and doesn’t play when it comes to upkeeping it

She has this light floral scent because of that; it varies between cucumbers and roses

Her body wash is also consistent with the smell of her beauty products

One thing about Kugisaki’s smell is that it does change completely depending on what products she’s using

Although, if she were to be completely clean with no scented products, she’d have a smell that’s a little bit metallic because of the nails and a little pumpkin-y

10/10 points because she sets the standard

Gojo

Smells like the inside of a guys car

He smells like bergamot and cedarwood mixed with a hint of leather

Overall he smells nice and it’s frustrating because his scent lingers. It’s so distinct that even when he’s gone, his scent will stay behind just to taunt you

9/10 minus one point for being Gojo

Maki

She’s very particular about hygiene 

It mainly stems from 1) her upbringing and 2) the level of cleanliness needed to clean all the weapons she uses regularly

She smells of metal polish, lavender with a hint of patchouli, and a slight undertone of rust

10/10 overall very strong scent but it’s so uniquely her that it’s calming 

Inumaki

This makes no sense but I feel like Inumaki smells like the sandwich part of a deli

Specifically that fresh baked bread and sliced lettuce smell

It can be a bit nostalgic at times especially because the smell in general occurs in a lot of places 

10/10 because bread smells good

Panda

It’s canon that Panda smells like the sun but we can get more specific

Panda does smell like the sun but I think he smells like a freshly cleaned room with the curtains open

The smell is like air freshener mixed with the sun

The air fresheners he smells the most like are: morning and dew, wood, pine, pet odor eliminator

10/10 no explanation needed

Yuta

Smells like teen spirit

Pre-jujutsu high (and before he was sent away to Africa); Yuta smelled like deodorant

He smelled like wayyy too much old spice, it was pretty bad

Post trip to Africa (idk which country he went to), Yuta smells of shea butter, frankincense, and charred wood

8/10 the crimes of pre jujutsu high Yuta will not be easily forgiven

Nanami

He smells like the blue Ralph Polo Lauren cologne

No I will not take criticism

He also smells a bit like the wrinkle spray people use when ironing clothes

10/10 we been knew that Nanami looks good, smells good, and dresses good

I don’t even like that cologne but for him...

Shoko

Love Shoko but her smell isn’t the most pleasant

Literally smells like cigarettes and alcohol with the sterile smell of cleaner to top it off

She’s an icon but her smell can be overwhelming at the best of times and suffocating at the worst

5/10 some people might like it but it is not for me

Utahime

Her scent is very foresty, either pine or spruce, with an undertone of gree tea

Her scent is a bit muted too so you can only really smell it if she’s really close or if you’re hugging her

It’s not a bad scent though, it’s the type that immediately sets you on ease

10/10 smells like a warm hug

Mechamaru(spoilers)

He’s a robot what’d you expect???

Jkjk Pre-Shibuya he smells really sterile and clean due to his condition

His robots obviously smell like metal and wiring

Post-Shibuya arc(or yk during technically): He smells kind of like nothing

There's the slightest smell of sparks from his cursed technique and the hint of mojito’s smell lingering, but otherwise he smells like absolutely nothing

6/10 the lack of smell is a bit off putting

Miwa

I can’t explain but I feel like Miwa smells like banana and vanilla

Like Mai and Momo tricked her and she ended up actually liking the smell

6/10 not the worst but not the best

Mai

Mai smells really heavily of metal and gunpowder

Obviously brcause of her cursed technique but she ever expected it to stck to her like it does

She doesn’t make any active effort to change it though because she thinks it makes her seem cool and mysterious

4/10 because while it DOES make her seem cool and mysterious, she scares locals

Momo

She definitely uses bath and body works perfume (tempted to say she uses the glittery versions but alas)

She loves using all the candles, lotions, and perfumes because of how girly they make her feel; has a collection that’s probably on a rotater

Definitely uses sweet pea above all

Tries to get Mai to try some of her fragrances but she has a 30/70 chance of getting her to agree

7/10 another scent that’s not for me

Todo

He has a really intense cleaning regimen and is never caught lackin in the smell department

He gets all the more embarrassed when Yuuji smells stinky next to him and will always make Yuuji shower if thr boy stinks

Other than that, he smelled of an ocean-y cologne before Takada-chan released her perfume collection

Now all he talks about is how he smells like the perfect husband for Takada

Takada’s perfume is really light a floral (along the lines of rose + vanilla) and if Todo runs out, he tries to steal it from Momo’s collection

9/10 minus a point for being a simp

Noritoshi

Smells really clean except for when he’s using his cursed technique

On average, Noritoshi smells like the clean linen spray/ clean laundry

When he uses his technique, he smells like blood and when he uses his technique to “dope”, he smells like sweat

Usually he smells like clean laundry though, he’s very picky about how he smells and hates the smell he gets from using his technique

10/10 for keeping clean

Naoya

If you think this man washes his ass...

Sorry but he’s a little too busy being a misogynist 

Naoya saw the term gooch grease and was like “wow someone gets it!”

-400/10 I’m sick of talking about the ways this man smells like a popped neck pimple

Mahito

Only person that smells worse than Naoya

If Naoya smells like a popped neck pimple, Mahito smells like a literal sewer

He smells like sewage, garbage, rot and decay, melted plastic,etc.

Not only does Mojito’s body stink, his breath stinks, hair stinks, just everything stinks

Jogo and Hanami can’t tell since they don’t have noses but everytime Geto gets a whiff, he dies a little inside

-21982913293237932392379319210391090320323019/10 GET BACK. GET BACK. GET BACK.

Sukuna

Pre-death; he smelled like blood 9 times out of 10 

The other 10% of times he smelled like incense or jasmine but you’d never smell it for long

Post-death; stinky funky and rotten

I’m sorry but 1) he’s a mass murder who literally sits atop a mountain of skulls 2) he’s technically dead and only exists thriugh his fingers

If you think that man smells like anything other than rot and grave wax...

-2/10 be glad he got a higher score than Mahito

Choso

I love Choso with every ounce of my being 

That being said, he smells like a scab

Scabs don’t even have smells but somehow he smells like one 

Alright I’m done slandering him

3/10 because I didn’t have the heart to give him anything lower

Geto(spoilers)

Pre-Gojo angst: Geto was the best smelling sorcerer in the world

He was very meticulous about his grooming routine and showed Gojo how to care for himself w/o the aid of servants

A king of self care and personal grooming 10/10

Post-Gojo angst: Geto really stopped caring about his appearance

He’d keep clean to set a good example for his kids, but he didn’t really see the value of looking decent

Probably says “I refuse to use the technology of monkeys”

Even though Mahito smells worse, Geto does still hang around Mahito and that’s gonna rub off

2/10 take a shower man, sea water doesn’t count as cleaning yourself

Junpei

Junpei smells like dandelions/picked grass and cigarettes

Cigarettes are obviously because his mom smokes them so frequently the smell sticks to him

The dandelions/ picked grass smell is because Junpei spends a lot of time outside 

Out of boredom or a need to keep his negative thoughts at bay, Junpei started picking at the grass

I do think he eventually started weaving flower crowns made of dandelions and strips of grass

6/10 because I feel bad for him

Toji

This man...

As much as I’d like to pretend he smells good, he has a drooling worm hanging off him and  probably owns like one outfit

That being said, he’s not as stinky as Naoya or Mahito (or even Sukuna), because he does clean himself when he has the chance

It’s just that he spends his money so quickly that he kinda forgets sometimes

Although he usually has no problem finding some woman who’d be more than willing to put him up in a hotel room

His smell is musky but it’s not funky

He smells like a guy right before they start to get stinky, it’s a delicate balance

4/10 he’s a lil funky but it kinda feeds his image

[sneezefiction]

hello! I've been going down your masterlist and I love your writing! most of them are so sweet 🥺 could I request a hc of reader dating daichi, but he lives with kuroo and bokuto so she spends a lot of time with them. maybe what your friendship is like with kuroo and bokuto separately, how daichi reacts to you being so close to those 2, and how you guys hang out as a group/what kinda trouble they get you into since you're the only girl in the group 😅

Daichi x fem!reader // Kuroo and Bokuto x reader - Headcanons

description: dating Daichi basically means dating his roommates, Kuroo and Bokuto too. here are some fluffy separate and group dynamics between you and these 3 babes. you’re def dating Daichi tho, hun. just to be clear~

a/n: ahh this was so fun to mess around with!! it was a nice break from regular headcanons. separating them into categories and elements was interesting. it got a bit long & wordy for a headcanon, sorry heh. it’s basically an everyone x reader at this point lmao apologies, Daichi thank you tons for the request and for the compliments <33

warnings: slight cursing

total wc: 1000

---

Let’s start with these star boy roommates and work our way from there~

Kuroo and Bokuto:

Okay, so they get that you’re taken and all that

But that doesn’t mean they’re gonna lay off of their teasing and flirty habits with you

You’ll walk into their apartment, searching for Daichi and immediately be bombarded with stuff like,

“Damn, y/n, you’re lookin good tonightttt. Where you headed?”

Just all kinds of flirty commends from Kuroo. It won’t end.

Bokuto definitely peeks around the hall after hearing all this, golden eyes glowing in the dark

You just laugh as Daichi pokes his own head out of the kitchen with a look that could kill a man

“Just out with Daichi, Kuroo, leave me aloneeee.” You’ll beg, still giggling

He’ll leave you be for awhile, but when you and Daichi get back from your date, he’ll jokingly ask you to take him out instead next time since, “I’m way more fun than that wet blanket of a boyfriend.”

Kuroo gets points for great pick up lines and scarily specific knowledge about romcoms

On the other hand, Bokuto is super confident with being physical around you

He definitely finds ways to play with your hair and will give you the best back massages

He’ll rope you into sitting with him by telling you that he has important news or a great story from his day

As he distracts you with his words, Bokuto’s hands will find their way to your hair or to your shoulders

You naturally lean into his touch and enjoy the soothing closeness with the spiky-haired boy

After a mild cuddling session with Bo, his energy becomes electric no matter what time it is

Like, it’ll be 1am and you’ll be laughing at something he said and place your hand on his chest to push him away playfully and he’ll just be all “AJldjsdlsjJKKD”

You’re definitely invited over for movie nights with just these two whenever Daichi is out late

You make them popcorn and they pile blankets on you and check every once in awhile to see if your okay or if you’ve fallen asleep

They joke that if Daichi ever leaves or does anything to hurt you, they’ll beat him up and take his place in a heartbeat

You know they would never interfere with your current relationship, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be there if it doesn’t work out ;) (Daichi is so ready to knock some sense into these kids)

Both boys will always have a slight crush on you, them’s the facts

Daichi:

So the other two babes are great, but the whole reason you even met those goobers is thanks to your hero of a boyfriend

Daichi made sure you knew the boys really well before suggesting you come over

You’ve made many great choices, but becoming friends with your boyfriend’s besties has been one of the most rewarding

Relationally and communally

You’re definitely grateful that you’re dating Daichi though

Kuroo and Bokuto are wonderful, but you fell for someone with a more chill persona for a reason

You’d been looking for someone who was wanted to make you feel safe and warm, who could sit in comfortable silence with you, and wanted you for more than just what you looked like

Yeah, Daichi was more your speed. He could joke, he can sass, but the man can also get serious… and you find that pretty sexy

If Bo or Kuroo start overstepping boundaries, Daichi turns into what you like to call “Jealous Dad-chi”

He’ll wrap his muscular arms around your waist, no matter where you are, and lift you away from their grasp and prying eyes

If you’re at home he’ll drag you back to his room, giving the boys a death glare, receiving snickers of victory in return

“Y/n… I know you don’t seem to realize this, but they’re all over you again.” He’ll explain, “I know we both love em, but stop letting them take advantage of you, okay?” He sighs

“You’re too cute for this world.” He covers his eyes with his hands in exasperation

“Somebody’s just jealous, that’s all.” You decide, but still reach toward his face, prying his hands off his eyes

“You’re the only one I have eyes for, Daichi.” You smile, tilting your head

This man will be so flustered and won’t let you go for the rest of the night

Group Dynamics:

Being the only girl in a group of 3 boys is never very easy

When you first met Bo and Kuroo, you just hoped you wouldn’t bore them and that your interactions would be smooth and not awkward

Sorry kiddo, but this arrangement was never meant to be smooth and is better suited for the words flirty, chaotic, and baffling.

But just because it isn’t smooth doesn’t mean it isn’t fun and invigorating

These boys have been your best friends, your counselors, and your protectors ever since you decided you join their funky lil crew

When Daichi, Kuroo, and Bokuto find you getting hit on by some creep, damn do they pounce

You’ll never see anything more intimidating than 3 tall, fit, intense guys approaching at once

Also can we talk about how obnoxious the boys humor gets when it’s just the 3 of them

They’ll be up late cackling like hyenas and snorting over inside jokes

Don’t even get me started on the level of testosterone in this apartment ugh

Whatever game they play, argument they get wrapped up in, or competition they come up with, it won’t end for hours… sometimes even days

And trust me, it’s not pretty

But that’s why you’re here. You refresh, excite, and intrigue them, taking their minds off of their usual boyish, unrefined lives 

Being around you brings them a sense of calm and care that they’d never have known if you hadn’t shown up

They adore and savor your presence and opinion, wanting you to be apart of their discussions and asking you to join them for all of their group outings

you’re the sweetest girlfriend and the most wonderful friend to each of these messy, adorable boys

[fletchphoenix]

Dog Days Are Over

Hiya!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Chapter four!!! okay, I love y’’all, thank you for your support and onwards with the chapter! 

-----------------------------------

  It was Friday and, just to rub salt in the wound, the last period was an English exam. Just what Hugo needed when he was looking forward to a weekend of luxury and working on Olivia. His paper sat in front of him, the lines for answers sitting blank as he thought hard about his responses. His eyes grazed across the desk, noticing a small pen drawing in the top right corner, a smile gracing his face. He knew who’d drawn it immediately - Varian.

  He hadn’t seen the other boy since they almost...yeah. He didn’t want to think of that and make his face flush in the middle of an exam about Romeo And Juliet, thanks. Still, the other had been supposedly avoiding him the whole time since the incident and he didn’t understand why. Honestly, the lack of hairstripe’s presence in his life was making him feel kinda lonely and combined with his sudden conclusion that he was head over heels for him..he’d kinda concluded he must’ve done something wrong and put the boy off. A cough and a clock tick prompted him to get back to work, Mrs Crick gazing at him before turning back to her book.

  His index finger of his right hand absentmindedly and subconsciously traced his finger over the marking on the table as his left hand wrote furiously with a soft smile. He’d really fallen hard for the other boy in the short time they’d known each other, that time exclusively spent studying chemistry. He was intoxicating - one bit of the boy left him needing more and more. In all honesty, he was lying when he said he didn’t understand his part of the project just so he could spend time with the other. He’d intended to ask him out on a date or something, but he chickened out last time. On the bed. And then Varian hadn’t spoken to him since. Did Varian even like men? Huh. He hadn’t taken that into account. With his pen, he began to draw a little him on the desk beside the little stick man Varian had drawn of himself.

 He could tell Varian was lying when he said he’d kissed “many, many ladies”, because..who the hell says that? However, it wouldn’t be Hugo’s first time crushing on a straight man (honestly, virtually everyone in this hellhole was straight, so curse the universe for placing him here) and he was too much of a coward to ask. It’s not as if he could just say “Hey Varian! I am deeply in love with you and wanted to know, are you gay or not?”. That would scare him off more than he already had. Maybe he could just..take him out? Take him somewhere nice to just talk for a while and see where it went. Yeah! He could be so smart sometimes, he praised himself with a grin. Finally the bell rang, he handed in his paper and sprinted down the hallway towards the exit of the school. He hoped he wasn’t too late - he was sure Donella would let him borrow the bike for the night. Now all he needed was his date.

-----------------------------------------------------------

  It felt like forever - though at last the weekend had dawned on them. The blessed days seemingly took their sweet, sweet time to arrive, teasing Varian the longer he had to wait. It was agony to have to wait so long for a break. But a weekend meant no school, no stress, no teachers..and best of all..

  No Hugo.

  Varian let out a sigh of relief at that fact. Thank god he didn’t have to see the other after their..awkward farewell a few days prior. He honestly didn’t know what was going through Hugo’s head or what he was trying to do. Was it a joke? Was he just trying to freak Varian out or something? Or did he really...no. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. In his eyes, they were sworn enemies and all Hugo did was tease him all the time. There was no way Hugo could actually like him, Varian reminded himself as he strolled out of the school and along the sidewalk before hearing a familiar voice yell his name. Brilliant.

  “Hairstripe! Hey, wait up!” Hugo called from behind him, the other slowing his pace to let the blonde catch up. Ugh, of all the people it could’ve been - Nuru, Zander..hell, even Isla. It had to be Hugo Atkinson. Hugo Atkinson who became his rival and was making him extremely confused with his feelings towards him with every single movement he made. “I thought I’d lost you, aha..”

  “What is it, Hugo.” Varian asked, admittedly sounding more annoyed than he’d intended. 

  “Geez, no need to be so rude, hairstripe. I was gonna ask if you wanna go out with me tonight. I’ll pick you up at 6 and take you somewhere nice - my treat for putting up with me for the week. Yeah?” He asked, no sign of ill intent in his face. Varian examined his face. Hugo did seem to be genuine with what he was saying, and it would be nice to spend some time with him..even if he was his rival and Varian was meant to hate him. His head entertained the thought for a moment.

  “Yeah, sure. Don’t be late.” Varian replied before continuing to walk down the street. He didn’t turn around to catch the sight of Hugo silently cheering to himself and doing a funky little dance in the middle of the street at Varian’s response before racing home to get ready for their unofficial ‘date’.

----------------------------------------

  True to his word, Hugo showed up at 6pm sharp, a bouquet of flowers in his arms for Rapunzel consisting of an assortment of purple flowers, which she took gratefully. He looked kinda handsome too, his fringe slicked back though still in its regular ponytail. “Oh Varian! Hey!” he called out, a smile plastered on his face. Varian felt kind of bad..he’d put absolutely no effort into his appearance aside from brushing his hair for a few seconds, but Hugo...he’d gone all out. Varian nodded, walking down the stairs to stand beside the taller boy. “We won’t be too long, ma’am.” Hugo commented, gesturing towards a grey motorbike in the driveway.

  It looked beautiful the closer they got to it, small dents and patterns over the bike more clear as he strolled closer. Hugo tossed a helmet over to Varian, a smirk on his face. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Fixed her up myself. And don’t worry, I know how to ride one of these things, but always wear a helmet, sweetheart.” he said smugly, “Though, you might wanna hold on tight.” he added as a second thought, swinging his leg over to sit down and letting Varian’s arms wrap around his waist as he revved the engine and starting to drive.

  Varian laughed, exhilaration and adrenaline taking over and running through his veins as they sped through the city and past houses. Even though Varian had no idea where they were going, he shuffled closer and closed his eyes happily. This was beautiful, the sun setting in the distance as they drove. It reminded him of Cassandra, well, when she lived here before she moved away with her girlfriend Irene. He had to admit they were a cute couple, but he missed Cass dearly. She could’ve at least come to visit sometimes. He let out a contented sigh, his head resting against Hugo’s back as they drove.

  Hugo, on the other hand, smiled as he felt Varian’s head rest against his back. Everything was going great so far - now all it had to do was stay like that. Or preferably get better. Either one would be perfect. Pulling into the beach parking lot, he swung his leg back over the bike and let his hands move to Varian’s hips, steadying him as he followed suit. “Woah there, freckles. Easy.” he muttered before taking Varian’s arm and gently pulling him along. He stood, his feet in the cold, salty water before he shot a mischievous grin towards the boy beside him. “Hey V.” he yelled, splashing the other and running. Varian gasped and chased him, tackling the other in the salty water and laughing as it soaked them to the bone. The pair stood, Hugo heading towards a bag he’d dumped on the shore and taking out two towels, carefully wrapping one around Varian and the other around his own lanky body before taking a seat on the sand and bringing Varian closer for warmth. TOTALLY not to cuddle.

  They sat together, cuddling together for warmth and watching the colors of the sky blend into a beautiful sunset as both of them joked and laughed between them. Varian’s face flushed in embarrassment as Hugo cackled at his secret he just admitted. “Wait wait wait, let me get this straight. You-you created a whole new element. Like, a legally qualified element..and named it after your crush?!” Hugo asked between snorts of laughter, doubled over and smiling widely. Varian’s face twisted into a frown as he looked at the other boy.

  “Oh shut up!” Varian shoved him lightly, Hugo pulling Varian along with him as he fell into the sand and thus the play fighting began. Eventually the pair ended up laughing in the sand, Hugo laying over Varian with nothing but adoration in his eyes as the other boy laughed. Varian’s laughter slowly ceased as he stared at Hugo, his cheeks flushed at the intensity of their staring match before hesitantly, his hand moved to rest on Hugo’s cheek and he placed a kiss onto his lips.

  It was a terrible kiss for their first one, the taste of salt filling their mouths as they held each other close. Sand fell out of their wet, salty hair as they trailed their fingers through each other's hair, lost in the moment. It may’ve been slightly awkward and gross, but it felt right for it to be like that. For their first kiss to be initiated through a play fight on the beach as a hue of orange, red and pink swirled in the sky behind them while the sun set. It just fit right - felt perfect to both of them before Hugo broke the kiss and propped himself above Varian, laughter leaving his lips in gentle breaths before he pushed himself up to stand. 

  “I..that was-wow. Okay. I..need to take you back before Eugene tries to kill me.” he chuckled at the thought, helping pull Varian to his feet before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. Short and sweet, but telling Varian everything he needed to hear. Varian nodded and returned the kiss before heading towards the motorbike quietly, the towel still wrapped around his shoulders as they walked. 

  The ride back felt way too short, Varian hesitating before he ran inside. Silently, he turned around and placed a kiss to Hugo’s lips one final time. “Thanks for the night out. It was perfect.” he whispered with a smile before jogging inside, still wrapped in the towel with the new addition of Hugo’s jacket on his shoulders. As he walked upstairs, he sighed happily and a hand drifted to his lips. Wow. That really happened just now. He really just kissed his ultimate rival. A bubbly feeling built in his stomach as he leaned back against his bedroom door to close it, Ruddiger staying far away from him due to the salt and sand that covered his body. 

  He was in love.

  He was in love with Hugo.

[yelenasdog]

rockstar (peter parker x gn reader)

genre: fluff with a lil angst 

summary: peter always comes to the reader when he’s hurt, but reader wonders if it could mean something more.

words: 1465 ( more or less LMAO)

warnings: light cursing, peter being hurt, some kissing? idk if that counts sorry lol.

a/n: hello! so this is inspired by the song Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer so i strongly reccomend listening to it by reading! if u prefer to read it on wattpad from my peter parker imagines book, click here !

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knock knock!

I was abrubtly woken from my peaceful sleep by the loud sounds coming from my window.

"What the hell," I muttered out as I groggily checked the current time. 3:47 am. I reluctantly made my way over, having a feeling it was a certain webslinger. I peeled open the entrance to see Peter, still in his spidey suit, without the mask may I add. I grabbed onto his broad shoulders, pulling him through the opening, almost slipping on the hard floor due to my fuzzy socks.

"Pete, what are you doing, people could see you without the mask." I heard his feet as he quietly padded over to sit on my soft comforter with an obvious limp.

I went over to my lamp and switched it on, a warm glow being strewn across the room by it. As Peter sat on my bed, I turned to meet him, gasping at what had been brought to my attention by the light. I rushed over to the boy, pressing the spider in the center of his suit, causing it to slide off and pool at his feet.

Peter grimaced as I soflty dragged my fingers against his bruised and battered skin from where I sat on the floor next to my bed.

"What happened to you, Pete?" I spoke, looking up at him, my facial expression laced with concern.

"Well," he began as he tried to sit up, groaning in the process, "just got hit a little harder than usual, that's all. It's no biggie, really."

I sighed, placing a tender hand on his from where I sat on the floor in a crouching position. I stood up, my hand staying in the same position.

"It kinda looks like a biggie, bud." One of my hands moved to run itself through his messy brown locks as I looked him up and down once more, scanning for any underlying injuries I might have missed at first look.

He flashed me a tired smile which I returned.

"I'm gonna go grab some stuff to patch you up, k?" This time I gave him a small smile, and he was the one who returned it gratefully.

"Thank you y/n." I squeezed his now bare hand, standing and turning to go.

"It's no problem, Pete, honestly." 

As I tried to leave, he lightly tugged me back by my wrist, catching me by surpise. My breath caught in my throat at the action.

"Really, y/n, I don't know what I would do without you."

I smiled at him once more, "Same to you, BugBoy"

He released my hand, allowing me to go get his supplies. As I gathered what I needed from the cabinet, my head was clouded with thoughts of the boy. The same thoughts that had been clouding my head since the day I had met him.

We had first met at midtown through decathlon, and grew quite close. I was entranced by the boy and everything about him, from his starwars obsession to the way he would rant about different scientific theories. It made my heart swell for reasons I would like to think I couldn't understand. He would confine in me with any problems he was going through, such as Uncle Ben passing, or even some of his biggest secrets, Spider-Man being one of them.

He hadn't meant for me to find out. Not in the way I did, at least.

It had been after a long day at school, when Ned had gone to hang out with Peter and build the lego deathstar, and I tagged along to surprise him, as I had been gone on a trip for quite some time and wanted to see him. Turns out I was the one in for a surprise, because I found out peter was Spider-Man that same day when he walked in on the ceiling through his window. It was a bit of a shock to say the least.

My feelings had only grown for the boy since that point, which also left me with uncalled for emotions that I had a difficult time dealing with. Especially when Peter would do this every time he would get hurt. This whole routine of coming to me at ungodly hours of the night, and me patching him up every time without question. It was sad to say the least. 

The way my heart would ache for the boy in red, so much so that I would sacrifice so much for his happiness, whatever form that would take. 

I tried to deny the feelings that would arise when I was around him, and God, was it difficult. I looked myself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. I walked back out to where Peter was waiting for me, reaching out and placing all the supplies on my mahogony side table.

"I know you hate hearing this, but we might have to do stitches, Pete."

He groaned, looking up to my poster covered ceiling as if one of the singers on the paper would somehow deny the fact he needed the medical attention.

He looked back at me, giving me puppy dog eyes.

"Come on, Rockstar? Really?"

My heart swelled at the nickname he had gifted me after finding out about my love for music, one of the many things we bonded over. I was tempted to give in, but quickly snapped out of it.

"Nice try, Peter, but this is for your own good, so lets just get it over with, yeah?"

His head dropped and he nodded, looking down to his feet.

"Head up, bub, I need to be able to see what I'm doing and get this done before it starts to scab." I could have sworn Peter's pupils dialated and he seemed a little off at the pet name, but yet again, it was nearly 4 am, so I very well could have been imagining things, and probably was.

As I started to run the needle through the forming scar, he let out a whimper, gripping my shoulder in pain as his eyes screwed shut. He did this often, grabbing me “as hard as he could” whenever he was hurting. 

It was an idea I had introduced to him to deal with any especially bad injuries, our little way of dealing with the pain. I knew it might cause me some minor damage, as he would never hurt me. I assured Peter every time that I felt okay, but something nagged at me telling me he felt guilty, and that he wasn't gripping as hard as he could.

As I went through what I imagined was an especially painful part, he cursed loudly under his breath.

"Fuck!"

I stopped what I was doing momentarily to check on him after the short outburst, unusual for his kind and calm demeanor.

"Are you okay, Peter?"

He moved his large hands to tightly grip his hair, moving down to his neck, back and forth.

"No, y/n! I'm not okay. I'm hurting, I'm hurting so bad, y/n/n" His volume increased and decreased again, silent tears falling down his face.

I had dropped the needle that I had been using, shocked by his volume. I picked it back up again, resuming my task with conceringly shaky hands.

"I can try to be softer if it would help, Pete." My voice was gentle as I spoke, in a feeble attempt to not upset him further. 

He looked at me and to his shoes as he began to talk, his voice low I could barely hear him.

"No, y/n, it's not you, you're doing amazing, it's just," he didn't finish his sentence, he rather just trailed off.

I blew out a deep breath, my eyes never leaving the work in front of me.

"What is it, Peter?"

I tied the knot on the stiches, cutting the thread and disposing of the needle in the small biohazard waste kit froom the first aid box.

I stood up directly in front of him to where I was slightly higher up than him. I reached a hand forward, wiping away a stray tear. He took my wrists in his hands, taking me off guard.

"Actually, y/n, I lied." I tensed, concerned about what he was going to say.

"It is you. It's always been you."

Confusion consumed me as I shook my head, and I wondered if it was just my tired state that had caused the emotions.

"Peter, what do you mean you're not making any sens-"

Before I could finish my sentence, he leaned forward encapsulating our lips in a sweet and long awaited kiss. He let go of my wrists, moving his own hands, one to rest around my waist protectivley, the other on the back of my neck under my hair. I moved one of mine to lazily drape over his left shoulder, the other playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. The kiss lasted a long while, but not long enough.

Our hands went to the sides of each others faces when we parted, and his own strong hands started running small circles on my jaw. As we struggled to catch our breaths, he began to speak, the boyish smile I loved so much covering his face.

"My feelings for you are there, Y/n, always have been, and they always will be. I want you to take all of me, Rockstar."

I giggled at the wording of his statement, appreciating it nonetheless. He pressed our foreheads together, a mutal content taking over us.

"Although that was extremely cheesy, I’ll allow it this once. You have no idea how long I've wanted you to say that, BugBoy."

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idk how i feel about this tbh, kinda love it kinda hate it. stay funky! xx hj

[im-hiding22]

Into the Base - 11:42 A.M.

“Okay everyone, we’re here. Is everyone okay? Did we lose some people?” Mari called out to the crowd, perching on the roof of a small inconspicuous building. It looked like a normal little fortune teller’s shop, rather barren, actually. In the window hung a little sign that read “CLOSED” and had read the same thing for ages. Locals knew the building as that one abandoned fortune shop that’s been standing ever since the first witch cast a curse over the town so long ago, but has never been in service.

“We are good over here,” called out Mendel. “Oz?”

“We’re good!” Oz flew up carrying Buggy and Farrow. Buggy still held the laptop in his arms, looking down at everyone below them. Farrow had been freed of his load, Rascal taking Milky, Oz taking Ana on his head, and Mari taking the sack.

“Is this where we’re staying?” Skuggy murmured.

“I guess so,” replied Rascal. “It looks kinda small...”

“It’s underground though...”

Mari flew down and opened the doors to the shop. It was rather roomy, with an old tiled floor and rather dirty yet ornate walls. A ticking cat clock hung on the walls, its eyes and tail flicking left and right. It was rather dim inside, the power out and the only light coming from the sun through the windows.

“Back up a bit, please,” said Mari, holding her hands out. “Oz, is it? Can you pass me a lighter or match or something?”

“God, more candles,” Skuggy scoffed, a tinge of nervousness hidden in his voice. Buggy perked up and reached in his pockets as Oz flew closer to her. He reached out and lended her his lighter. Mari smiled at him and took it gently.

“Thank you.” She ducked back inside and flicked on the lighter. She guided it along the room, lighting up little candles hanging from the walls. The room slowly brightened. Once she finished she looked out the door and motioned for people to start approaching. The group shuffled closer, going into the building apprehensively. Mari went to the back, behind a small, dusty desk and motioned for Mendel to come to her. He rushed through the people and hopped to her side, ducking down. A click and a snap sounded off and they lifted up a small hatch door in the ground.

“This will be...difficult. Mari, tell them to come maybe one or two people at a time...” Mendel looked at her with worrisome eyes.

“Alright everyone!” Mari yelled. “Get down here in a single file line, one or two at a time! I’m gonna unlock the door underground!” She hopped down some stairs below and disappeared with a lighter as a source of light, shouting, “Watch your step, watch your step!” Mendel quickly zipped in behind her as people started drawing closer.

Mari and Mendel ran down a long hall and reached the Coven base door, the one with a little number pad on it. Mari lit some more candles on the wall next to the door and nudged Mendel to the front. He punched in the passcode (6743542) and the door let out a little beep, unlocking. He looked to Mari and nodded before pushing open the door and holding it open as Mari stepped into the main room of the Coven base. A few people began coming down the wooden stairs and hopping onto the hard floor. Oz squeezed in after a few people went in and dumped Buggy and Farrow down into the hall. They stumbled forwards and looked to where everyone else was heading. There were some hesitating entering the room, whispering and murmuring being the only noise accompanying the lot’s footsteps in the underground hall.

“Is this safe?” whispered some. “Where are they leading us? Where are we?” Buggy exchanged looks with Farrow. Buggy looked a bit worried, but Farrow looked as if he was already familiar with the place. Almost as if Farrow knew what Buggy was thinking, he spoke up gently.

“I’ve been here tons of times, for fusion stuff and general Mendel time outings,” he said. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry. Everything’s really safe down here, actually.” He briskly turned and strode down the hall, passing by those who hesitated. Buggy followed apprehensively, hiking boots clacking subtly against the floor.

“Hey, you said there was a big lab here?” Oz asked, catching up with Mendel and Mari. Mendel turned to him and nodded.

“Yes, it is further downstairs. We will store the lamb there, since I have a freezer.” They kept walking without Oz, leaving him thinking for a bit.

“Why would you need a...” he paused. “....Ohhhh, okay. Gotcha!”

“If it is okay, please get everyone settled in the main room, and if needed, the study. If we have any further runoff, they can be stationed in the hall. Guards and lookouts will stay above ground.” Mendel glanced back to Oz. “If anyone needs to go out for anything make sure they are accompanied by someone who will protect them. Food can be stockpiled in the fridge in the main room. We also have cupboards and such. Do not let them go in any rooms that are obviously locked or blocked off.”

“...I gotcha!” Oz nodded, attentive to his words. “Will do.” He turned to rush into the crowd, guiding them once more.

-

Mendel and Mari silently made their way down deeper and deeper into the underground base until they reached Mendel’s larger lab. It was organized like his old lab, except it was kept powered by a small generator and it had a large operating table waiting to be unfolded. A door for a small walk-in freezer awaited them in the back. When Mendel opened it up, a small cloud of vapor puffed out and melted into the warm lab’s air.

“Go ahead,” said Mendel, stepping aside. Mari went forwards and swung the sack over to her front. She set it down and reached in for the lamb. Mendel helped her lift it out and set it in the freezer, then promptly shut the door.

“Hm...don’t you feel bad for the lamb?” Mari asked, facing Mendel and grabbing her sack back.

“Well, not really, why? It is being used to protect others, its corpse is not being put to waste.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say, you funky little necromancer.” Mari grinned and fluttered back to the stairs, climbing up. Mendel was left a bit confused, following her up.

“Why do you ask? Do you feel bad?”

“Definitely not as bad if I had to use a puppy or something. But I dunno, it feels weird sometimes.” Mari led the way back up to the main room. “You have a good point, though.”

“...How are you so calm right now?” asked Mendel after a few seconds of silence.

“Me? Calm? I was about to ask the same to you.” Mari looked back to Mendel as she went along. “I’m just keeping a chill exterior, I guess. But internally? I’m freaking out.” She laughed lightly.

“I suppose it is the same for me.”

“That’s weird. You look totally calm.”

“It helps other take you more seriously.”

“Did you...learn how to keep a straight face?”

“I guess one could say I taught myself. Although I would not really think so. It was more just a result of me making certain choices.” Mari squinted for a bit and then nodded.

“I...totally understand that.” She kept squinting a bit, thinking it over. She shook her head.

“I have a new plan,” Mendel suddenly said, changing subjects. “Can we talk about it later on? It involves no snares of sorts, it avoided the first one.”

“Uh huh. We’ll talk later.” Mari nodded. “Right now we gotta try to keep an entire lobby full of people under control.”

“Right.”

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 22

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                       ***

      We finally forced ourselves to go do proper cleanup on my apartment, the hellhole.  I turned on the oven hood and the bathroom fan to vent funky smells, cleaned up everything I could, amassed some garbage bags worth of horribleness, ran some laundry, took out the trash from cleaning twice.

      We left the main chalk circle intact, policing the edges and clarifying it from the bulk chalk.  I recreated the triangle on fresh floor, and the symbols of mercury inside it.  I only drank a glass of wine for the drunkenness aspect of my magic.  Hopefully it would be sufficient.  I was hoping to ease off of my alcoholism sometime soon.

      During it all we had more visits from floories, made plans, and so on.  At last we parted ways - Leimomi to clean herself up in her apartment, me to finish up some work in my own.  I’d never gotten a proper bed, but was able to borrow a few ottomans and cushions from Deandre to at least make a good surface for lovemaking, all put together in place.

      I’d set out a bunch of candles and I would be damned if they didn’t get lit, every one. This was going to be romantic as Hell...  OK, my bedroom wasn’t nearly as cool without the decor that had gone out the window, but in the candlelight, all that would be visible is sweet sweet love.

      She came over, wearing clean capri leggings and a fresh t-shirt, although now she had a flannel over the top.  She did it!  For my part, I was wearing a gauzy black gown over bright purple lingerie.  We both had our heads under fresh wraps.

      “Whoa, where’d you get the flannel?,” I asked, hoping she’d see my carnal interest was genuine.

      “I borrowed it, don’t wanna say.  Wow, you’re so pretty.”

      “Aww, I love you.  And you’re so handsome.”  I tugged on the borrowed shirt.  Honestly, I knew it had to have come from Perry - tallest guy on the floor - probably by way of Patrick.  An impressive act of bravery on her part.

      “Thank you, Courtney.”

      I locked up the door.

      She looked into my bedroom, seeing all the candlelight.  “Why do you have all of that?  I don’t wanna see myself.”

      “Oh, hon, it’s not much light.  It’s to be romantic.  Candles!  Did you have enough to eat, or do you want to go straight to my boudoir?”

      “I ate.”  She stood in the door of my bedroom and I slid on by, taking up her hands.

      I pulled her inside.  “Come in, feel the romance!”

      She scrunched her brows adorably and let herself be dragged, though she wasn’t comfortable enough to take a seat just yet.  I had a mix of slow R&B jams from the late ’80s early ’90s on, something by SWV at that moment.  I pulled her into a slow dance.

      “How do you like my slow jams?”

      “It sounds funny.  Is it super old?”

      “Old and moldy.  I haven’t thought about a lot of these songs since they were new, but I got them for nostalgia a long time ago, and then I was, like, better for a date than my grunge music.”

      “Yeah, OK.  It’s nice.”  She was distracted.  “But I’m putting out these lights before we do stuff.”

      “Sure thing, baby.”  I kissed her and it worked.  She started paying attention to the task at hand - love.  We slow danced for another couple of songs, made out, felt each other up.

      “Am I butch yet?  Or is it queer because I have lipstick?”

      “I don’t care.  Whatever you are, I want some.”

*Big redacted sex scene: thing to know for later is that it ended with a condom-wrapped cucumber with a dishtowel wrapped in the middle part balanced on a towel rack in the bathroom*

     There was a knock at the door.  Our R&B slow jams surely could be heard in the hall.  Didn’t they know what it meant, when Keith Sweat was singing “Make it Last Forever”?  “We can ignore that, babe.”

      “What if it’s an emergency?”

      “They’ll get more insistent.”

      “Get your robe on.  Go.”  She kissed me and pushed me away.

      I rolled my eyes, grabbed my robe, and went to the door.  I noticed she was following me, completely *****, so I resolved to keep the door mostly shut for her.  I answered it, poking my head out.

      “Graeme?  What could you possibly need at this hour?  Cup of sugar?  Baking cookies?”

      She giggled behind me.

      “Sorry, I heard you were taking the night off, but didn’t know it was all the way off.  I’ll leave you be.”  He started away and I closed the door, but Momi kept me cornered there.

      “Hey.  We should bring him in.”

      I blinked.  “What?  Are you kidding?”

      She reached past me and opened the door, calling out, “GREE-EEM.  COME BACK.”

      “No!  No.  Are you crazy?  Why?”  I turned to tug on her arm, try to get the door closed again.  She was too strong.

      “You did a three-way before.  We should do a three-way.  I can find out why he’s so hot.”

      “I do not want to mess us up again.  It would mess us up again!  Please, Momi!”

      From out in the hall I heard his voice, muffled by the door being mostly closed.  “Umm, what’s going on?”

      She looked at me earnestly, but with an impish streak as well.  “It won’t mess us up.  It’s just for fun.  Greem!  Hey!”

      I could feel my face folded in a thousand places like paper sculpture.  “Are you for real?”

      “We’re in love, we’re good.  This is just for fun.”  She kissed me.  “Hey Greem, come in!”

      “I don’t think so.  Sounds weird in there.  Good night, girls.”

      She pushed the door open farther and I half fell into the hall.  “No, man.  Come back, come in.”

      “I just wanted to plan the exorcism stuff.  It’s no big deal.”

      Momi poked my back.  “I want him in here, c’mooon...”

      “Oh my god,” I said.  “Graeme, come on.  Please, just give me a moment?”

      He got a grumpy look and only came back as far as the door.

      Leimomi peeked out.  “C’mon, you know you want it.”  Then she slipped away, embarrassed at herself at last?

      He said, “No.  I know you Courtney, at least enough to know this is a mess I’d best avoid.”

      “You’re not wrong, but please.”  I reached out my arm.  “Come in, just a moment, hear me.”

      He bit his lip, most unsexily.  It was the lip biting of, “I don’t wanna say swear words,” but he came back to the door.

      I speedily doffed my robe, throwing it over Leimomi’s body.  She giggled and caught it there, just holding it over herself under the arms like a sheet or towel after a bath.  For my own modesty, I just leaned on the kitchenette island and looked over at him from a profile view.  Not much visible there in the dim light, I hoped.

      “Uh, hi Greem,” Momi said.

      “It’s Graeme.  Courtney?”

      “It’s like this, bud.  The love of my life over here got a wild hare to bring somebody non-threatening in for a three-way.  Tag, you’re it.”

      She made a coy face at him.  “You know you wanna *redacted*, right?”

      He was still grumpy.  He held out his arm and I didn’t understand at first.  Then I realized he was showing us something.  Red blood dripped from it and splashed on the floor.  “You see this?”

      “God, Graeme, are you OK?”  I forgot my modesty and turned to face him, took a step forward.

      “Yeah.  I figured out it isn’t blood.  If it was, I’d be dead by now.”

      “What is it?,” Leimomi asked.

      “I’m literally red-handed because of this curse stuff.  Most of the time it just looks like port-wine stain, but when I’m doing anything, let’s say, naughty, it starts to pour this red stuff.”

      “Naughty how?,” she asked.

      “At work it’s fine.  When I come home here, when I first get in the building, it starts.  Kinda thin, like sweat, but enough to mess up a shirt.  I know it’s ridiculous, but when I try to *redacted*?  It’s like this.  If I do anything sexy with you, it’s gonna look like the elevator lobby at The Overlook Hotel.”

      I said, “And here I just thought it was you trying to be a good boy, keep me from messing up my love life again.”

      “That’s part of it too.  You just got with her, right.  You wanna mess that up?  This is how people mess things up.”

      I looked at Momi.  “See, we agree.  Bad idea, baby.  You really think we’re ready to get somebody else in our bed without causing weird feelings?  Problems?”

      She made an expression like a three year old giving up on her dream of buying a puppy.  “I guess.”

      “You really wanna do this, don’t you?,” I asked.

      “Even with the Kool-Aid man hosing down your sheets?,” he asked.

      She nodded and let the robe slip off one tit.  “I dunno.  What do you think, Grame?”

      “Graeme.  You can see what my body thinks.”  He held up his hands, red dripping off of the fingers rapidly.  “I don’t think I’m convinced yet, in my mind.”

      She looked at me.  “Is this OK?”  She stepped closer to Grime, dropped the gown further, holding it at waist level.

      “Give it a try, hon.”

      “*redacted*”  She cocked her head and smiled at him.

      “Oh god,” he said.  He kept his hands clasped in front of himself and looked back and forth between us in a small panic.

      “Try it out, Graeme.  See if you can handle it.  I believe her.  This is just about fun, you’re just gonna be a fling for us, and we’ll still be in love tomorrow.”

      She nodded enthusiastically and *redacted*.

      “Damn, Graeme.  I’d do it, if I was you.”

      “Oh god,” he said again.

*Big redacted sex scene.  The thing to know for later is that Momi and Courtney’s head wraps escaped again and made it into yokai erotica.*

      “Oh no,” Momi cried, as her hair recovered its strength.  It bunched up behind her head and pushed her off the bed.  It spun and twisted in the air around her like the erotic display of some unclassfiable deep sea organism - bigger than before.

      But she was able to join in the fight, and between the three of us, we got it tied up.  We worked in stages - I got a big hank tied in a knot, then another, and while they punched me I caught them from behind with a pillowcase.  Then I tied that to a piece Grime was pinning down, and so on.

      At last we were done, laying across the slime-drenched furniture, totally wasted.

      Leimomi said, “I’m so sorry.  I guess it really was a bad idea.”

      Grime said, “I had no idea.”

      “Yeah,” I said, “Let’s not do that again.”  I patted Grime on the shoulder to reassure him, then went to kiss my girl.  “It’s OK.  Not your fault, babe.  I’ll get us some water and snacks, then we can try to clean up this nightmare.”

      “Thank you, Courtney.”

      “Thank you, Courtney.”

      I took care of my friend and my lover.  Could I have one night that didn’t end in total exhaustion and hellish explosions of slime?  I’d have to work on that.                                                        ***

      The red washed out well - not like blood at all.  Still, it was an all day chore to get it out of the furniture.  That meant we weren’t able to get an exorcism in at the end of the night, but at least I spoke with Patrick and came up with a new ritual more tailored to his situation.  We also had the idea to try and make it a double - exorcise Perry at the same time.

      Talking things through with Leimomi and Grime, we were mercifully not too traumatized by the experience, but agreed to keep an eye out for PTSD symptoms.  We had all been *redacted*, in a sense.  Good to be careful with our hearts for a while.

      The day after that I was out shopping and shoplifting for magic supplies when I got a call from Grime.  On his way to work, he’d overheard that they were doing a heat treatment for bed bugs on the entire thirteenth floor the very next day.  Would we feel the effects?

      Neither of us knew, but I made sure to let people know - to stock up on water and food that didn’t need to be cooked in case we were sweltering, anything else to help limit our comings and goings, keep heads low until the treatment was finished.  I figured the more we used the elevator while that was going on, the more likely we’d run into management, raise suspicion.

      That night we did the exorcism.  It was a much less vomitous affair, which had me concerned that it didn’t work.  But on examination, the old gay gents were clean!  We did it.  Everything was coming up roses.

     The day of the heat treatment, most of the floories took my advice to stay in - including Patrick, worn out from the exorcism and having some sick days to burn.  Leimomi and I distributed the food and supplies, so we got to visit with everyone, at least briefly.  It was nice to see Mike in human coloration again, though he looked worse for wear in other respects.

      Grime was the only person who chose to stay out of the apartments during the day of the bug bake.  Work was going into crunch time, and no one would think anything of him staying there all hours.  I invited Momi to stay in my apartment, and that morning we had bologna sandwiches and oranges for breakfast and listened to some tunes.

      When would the burning begin?  The concrete between floors meant we couldn’t hear men walking around with equipment, doing setup.  We could judge by how often we felt the slight hum from the elevator’s movement, but it could barely be felt above the sound of music or mild conversation.

      I feel like the night of sex gone wrong put a big damper on Leimomi’s recent friskiness, which was OK.  We had forever to get in the mood again, and it was relaxing to lay together without the expectation it might turn into something more physically demanding.  After breakfast we lounged on my fake bed, finally dried out from the cleaning a few days before.  We said nice things and kissed and held hands.

      “I’m glad we got out of Pilipwaii.  Too many nuns and nosy neighbors,” I said.

      “Yeah.”  She lazily closed her eyes.  “And everybody wanted you to be a model, Miss Pilipwaii.  We could never be a secret if you did that.”

      “So true.  But is it suspicious that we came to a renowned lesbian mecca?”

      “You think they know something?  Will we be able to ever go home again?”

      “Too risky.  Gotta live free.  We’ll send our families christmas cards and they can just pretend things are normal, if they have to.”

      “Losers.  I wouldn’t even send them a christmas card.”

      “Good idea.  Same money on stamps, spend it on lesbian things for your new life.”

      “Can we do my haircut tomorrow night?”

      “Marcie and Richie really wanna go next, but I think they’ll understand.  Yours is pretty dangerous.  Richie’s could theoretically burn down the building, but they’ve basically got it under control.  You don’t.”

      “Yeah, god.  I’m glad Grime was there to help out this time.”  Pain wrinkled her brow.

      “It’s OK babe, let’s not talk about it.”  I kissed her forehead.  “Once they’re done with the heat, let’s go split a sandwich at Subway and have some nice cold pop.”

      “Yeah, I like that.  What kind of sandwich?”

      “We could just do whatever the five dollar one is.”

      “Not if it’s tuna or meatballs.  Yuck.”

      “I like tuna alright.”

      “I dunno.  Sometimes it's OK,” she said, “but most times I don’t like it.  It doesn’t taste like nothin’ and it’s funky and feels weird in my mouth.”

      “That sounds like a challenge to me.  I’ll get an expensive piece of tuna from Whole Paycheck and cook it up just right, and you’ll be ‘Oh Courtney I love your tuna so much’.”

      “Hehe, you can try.  Bet it still sucks.”

      “Argh.”  I lay my head down on her chest.  I quickly picked it up again - we had stuck together with early stage sweat.  “I wonder if they started, or if that’s just from the day warming up.”

      “Am I gross?”

      “Never.  I don’t like sticking to people or things like that.  But there’s a fix.”  I awkwardly rearranged myself to pull a thin section of bedsheet between us, and nestled back into place.  “Nice.”

      “You think it’s gonna get hotter?”

      “It really shouldn’t get very hot in here.  I looked it up and concrete absorbs heat slow and releases it slow.  So basically, the heat will come through only a little at a time, have a chance to cool out before it heats us up too much.”

      “That’s science?”

      “I guess.  The man said it would get up to one hundred twenty-five degrees for three hours.  That’s awful, but that’s upstairs.  No way it gets that bad down here.”

      “OK, Courtney.”

      I took her hand again.  “The windows don’t open so the only way I could clear out Mike’s barf smell was running the oven hood fan and the bathroom fan.  Those connect to some pipes that carry air away.  Hot air rises, maybe if we run those it’ll help cool things off.”

      “Alright.”  She fidgeted with my rings.  “We hafta move out of here as fast as we can, but where would we go?”

      “Can’t go back to Pilipwaii.  The nuns will get us.”

      “I’m serious.  We could go to a shelter down in Tacoma or something, but it’s gonna be rough.”

      “Yeah, I hate that.  But if I can get a job and we can hold out for just one month, we could have enough for the down payment to move into a real place.  Reminds me, I need to get more interviews lined up.”

      “Maybe I should do a job.”

      “I don’t want you to do that.  It’s hard to get a good one, and some of the bad ones are really really bad.”

      “Sometimes guys would do day labor.  You know what that is?”

      “I think so.  You go to a temp agency or something like that, just wait, and if they get something they send you to it.  Right?  I feel like they probably give those guys just the worst kind of work to do, like moving big bags of concrete or moving hundred pound boxes of freight.”

      “Yeah, but if you do good, you could get a hundred bucks.”

      “The cheapest we’ll be able to pay for a legal place is gonna be twenty times that, as a down payment.  If you push around hundred pound blocks for twenty days, you could get crippled for life.  It ain’t worth it, babe.  Just wait for me.  I swear, I’ll get this.”

      “I believe you.  But I’m worried.  This is...”  She looked uncomfortable, sweat beginning to bead on her brow.

      “Too hot to snuggle now, isn’t it?”  I eased off of her and scooted a foot away.  “I’m sorry.”

      “It’s not your fault.”  She tucked the sheet under her arm, not liking the feel of sticking to herself.

      “Yeah, it’s my fault.  Whole thing was my idea.”

      “I didn’t hafta say yes.  I didn’t even hafta say yes to bein’ your girlfriend.”

      “Yeah, I better not push my luck by calling attention to your questionable decisions, hehe.  I’ll get us some water bottles.”  I got up and went to grab that.

      There was a knock at the door when I was conveniently close.  I opened it, noting the handle was a bit warm in my palm.  “Marcie, hi.  You wanna come in?”

      “Naw, the less people we got in any one room is probably gonna be a good thing.  You notice it?”

      “I know.  It’s heating up fast.  I don’t like it.”

      “I just think, y’know, it’s the last minute.  Those guys are probably up and down in the elevators, we oughtta sit tight.  Or should we?  We can get out now, maybe just try an’ stay out all day, like Olivia and Knobby usually do.”

      “I think we all have to make those calls for ourselves.  You might be right.  I’d just hate for one of us to get caught.  Like even if it gets to a hundred ten down here, we can guzzle water, put wet towels on our heads, whatever, just squeak through.  And it really shouldn’t come to that.  We got a layer of concrete between us and them.”

      “Yeah.”

      “Might wanna turn on your fans, see if they can suck out some hot air.  And of course, turn off all your lights.”

      “Yeah, you’re right.  Well, let’s stop breathing this hot air all over each other.  I’ll see ya, hon.”

      “See you, Marcie.”

      I closed the door.  The knob already felt warmer.

                                                         ***

   Read next chapter here.

[y0itsbri]

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

--

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

--

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

--

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

--

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)