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“Who was that boy? You were touching his hair.”Right. New person. “He’s my,” Michael says, and pauses, because Luke had technically been his boyfriend, until last week. For several months. Almost half a year. It had felt juvenile but Luke had informed him it what was going on. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my boyfriend.
“Singer,” he continues, a minute later, because it feels apt. “In my—band. I play guitar. He sings. And plays guitar also.”
Luke and Michael break up, then get back together. They're very good at it. Until Luke dyes his hair and stops picking up the phone.Series
- Part 2 of i got to evolve!
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“But you better quit it with the smart-ass comments,” Michael says, “because then I will actually hit you.”But Luke can’t help it. Because Michael always makes himself the center of gravity. He was in Luke’s school and then Jack’s shop and then their house and then the band. He’s everywhere. He always has been. Luke can’t do anything to stop it. He’s like bacteria. Or the flu. Or cancer, most succinctly.
“Please don’t,” is the only thing Luke manages, eyes crawling over every inch of Michael’s grit jaw for penance.
Luke's in Catholic school and Michael's a mechanic. They've hated each other since they were kids. That doesn't go away once they start hooking up all the time.Or, an early-2000s AU featuring DIY garage bands, MySpace stalking, unsanitary stick-and-pokes, and a slightly concerning psychosexual fixation on each other.
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- Part 1 of i got to evolve!
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“I should thank you,” George says, pulling him closer by the neck, “Because I get to have you?”“A lot of people aren’t that fucking lucky,” Dream says, voice tight, heartbeat beating thickly against George’s fingers. “And trust me—” he wrangles himself out of George’s grip, “—once I figure out how to stay away from you, you’re never going to hear from me again.”
George is a detective working for Scotland Yard investigating a string of art thefts linked to grisly murders. Dream is a gambler who knows more than he lets on. They can't stay away from each other, even when they should. -
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“I don’t like anything that has to do with Bad's cronies chatting me up,” George says. “Stupid and cocky, the lot of you. You’d be surprised at how much it happens.”
Dream scoffs. “You wound me, sweetheart.”
“Can’t even get out of handcuffs by yourself,” George says. His eyes scroll down Dream’s face. “Though I suppose you like being in them?”
The only rule Dream's gang really has is to never interact with the rival group on the other side of town. He'd always figured it would be an easy rule to follow, until he keeps seeing the quiet rent-boy with the pretty eyes. -
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“You’d like that, huh?” Dream says, voice low, letting George yank his head to the side, bite down on a spot behind his neck as he rounds his hand from his hair to his throat. “Want me to tell you it’s just you? Thought we were just—”
“Don’t,” George says, and plants another hand against Dream’s thigh. “Don’t you even fucking say it.”
George is the bassist of the punk band Manhunt, and everyone knows he's hooking up with the lead singer, Dream. The only question is whether Dream's going to make it out of the band alive.
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The truth is that he’s kept this love on the back burner of his heart for so many years that he’s grown accustomed to the smell and can sometimes almost ignore it completely. He likes to think he’s made peace with the fact that he’ll never know what it tastes like.
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Bookmarked by squigly
07 Aug 2020
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Summer, 1977. With the full moon approaching, Sirius heads up to the Lupins' countryside cottage to make himself useful. Or to make a complete and utter arse out of himself, because really, that's all he can seem to do around Remus these days.
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Bookmarked by squigly
07 Aug 2020
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Nick hates needing help from anyone, but that's going to have to change if he wants to make it out of this alive. And it might not be all bad...
Bookmarked by squigly
16 Apr 2020
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Ginny finds a portrait in the attic.
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Bookmarked by squigly
15 May 2019
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Most days, Logan feels like the dust blowing through El Paso: displaced, dry. Dead.
He doesn’t know what he was expecting. This is the way it ends, the way it’s always fucking ended: with him crawling across hell, rubbing salt into his own damn wounds.
Bookmarked by squigly
21 Apr 2019