maaz
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"As Will went to pay for that sad clearance coat, Mike dropped a massive pile of his own picks directly onto the other boy’s arms. Dipping forward from the sudden load, Will's eyes widened and Mike rolled his. Taking his boyfriend by the shoulder, quickly before any protest could erupt, Mike shoved him behind the velvet curtain of the back changing room.
Standing outside the thick drape, Mike listened to the rustle of fabric and muffled chitter about price tags until he heard a high-pitched gasp. His lips curled up instantly."
-- AKA Mike uses his father's credit card to play Sugar Daddy.
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“Mike, you’re pathetic. Who gets off by just looking? You can’t even do what you want in a dream.”
“Is this what it is?” Mike panted.
“Stupid,” Will sneered.
Mike started to crumble, as if it was a kick in the gut. His mouth hung open while his thumb swirled in circles smearing the pre-cum leaking from his slit. His tears were falling. “Will, I’m stupid. I’m so stupid.”
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It was go time. After catching the way Will innocently glowed under the twinkling Roane county fair lights, smiling lips tinted blue from the cotton candy he bought him, Mike knew tonight was the night. They were going to try doing it his way.
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The Watchtower was meant to be a sanctuary, but to John Walker, it feels like a ninety-story gallows pole. Between mandatory psych evals and the crushing weight of a public that hates him, John is vibrating with a restless, repressed rage. Then there’s Bob. The unassuming atom bomb who remembers nothing of the havoc he’s wreaked.
In a tower full of lab rats and rehabilitated soldiers, they are two sides of the same broken coin: John can't stop remembering the past, and Bob can't remember it at all. Walker knows he should keep his distance from a man who could ignite at any moment, but in the quiet, rain-scented hours of the night, the pull toward Bob’s flickering light is becoming impossible to ignore.
(John Walker-centric)
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After their older siblings leave a half-finished game of beer pong, Mike dares Will to finish it promising they’ll stop before things get out of hand.
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“What did you just say?” Munson stares at him like he’s grown a second head– like something has replaced the real Jason Carver and is wearing his skin.
“Uh- good morning?” Jason says dumbly. He just wanted to be nice to the guy, but now he sort of feels like this is worse than being a jerk.
“Good…morning…” Munson seems to test the words on his tongue, a slight disbelieving quirk of his lips, “Sure, Carver. Good morning.”
Bookmarked by maaz
22 Nov 2025