#This is going to haunt me till I come across the packaging with the other name

[muntadhir]

Talking with yukiyukiyuki about Greg. Oh how I miss him. My beloved Greg

I don’t remember what the name outside of Japan is but you know those coonuts...? I want a Greg coonut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: On to part three. Sorry for being a human disaster.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Or it will move right through me

💀💀💀

Jerome annoyed you as he picked through your tool box and clicked the ratchet noisily. He was excited but impatient and complained that you were taking so long. You told him if he wanted to pay out of pocket for labour, you could finish faster. 

You sat by his bike, parts strewn at your feet, and bent your head to look under the tank. You still had a lot to go and hadn’t yet added anymore of the gross chrome to the frame.

“Do you realise how filthy this is gonna get?” you huffed as you sat up and leaned your elbows on your legs, “not to mention how ridiculous it looks.”

“I like it. It’s just my style,” your brother grinned, “I don’t remember you spending this much time on Bucky’s ride and you and him--”

“He had me replace the tailpipe, you want nothing short of a rebuild,” you scoffed, “and you’re not the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, “guess it could be worse though. It could be Steve.”

“Thank god it’s not,” you chuckled, “I don’t know how many women had to toss beer in his face before he latched onto that mousy one at the bakery.”

“She’s nice,” Jerome shrugged, “far as I know. She doesn’t talk to anyone but Steve.”

“I wonder why,” you tisked, “he has insecurity written across his forehead.”

The tinny bell rang and the door whooshed open as the wind caught it. Jerome glanced over and dropped the ratchet noisily into the drawer of the tool box. You growled in warning as you spent much of your spare cash on those. He apologised quietly as he squared his shoulders at the man who appeared.

“Hey,” Bucky wiped the flakes from his hair and blew out a shiver.

“Bucky,” Jerome said rigidly.

The other man nodded and stepped further inside the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly around the concrete floor. You watched him as you fiddled with the bolt in your hand.

“You wanna head down to the bar?” It wasn’t a question as Bucky came to face you, “I gotta talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jerome replied sharply, “you got it, boss.”

Bucky grumbled and waited for him to leave. He sniffed and kicked his toe into the floor.

“So… what’re you doing here? Been a while so must be urgent,” you sat up on the rolling stool and stretched your back.

“The whole town’s talking about it. You fighting him,” his brows drew together, “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You didn’t,” you said evenly, “so I did.”

“I talked to him--”

“And said what?” you snorted.

“Look, you don’t understand. You said it yourself, you don’t care about my business. You don’t get what’s going on but what I need from him is bigger than your temper.”

“Excuse me? This is my fault? He broke into my shop, he followed me from that diner and he put his hands on me,” you stood and tossed the bolt away, “what do you want me to do, Buck?”

“First, I want you to remind yourself who I am. We’re not fucking anymore so that mouth isn’t as cute,” he warned, “and I want you to play nice.”

“All you have to do is keep him away from me. How hard is that for a man like you, huh? You’re the big dog.”

“Watch it,” he pointed at you, “I won’t tell you again.”

“He’s here to deal with you, not me,” you insisted, “he grabbed me, I defended myself, and I’ll do it again.”

“This isn’t grade school anymore, you can’t fight the boys,” he sighed.

“What are you saying?”

He was silent as his jaw ticked and his blue eyes strayed to the ceiling. You stepped closer and gripped your hips as you stared him down.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you. Nothing else I will do. He’s your problem.”

He met your glare and you scoffed in disgust, “you’re fucking serious? What do these idiots have on you?”

“It’s not what they have on me, it’s what I want from them. I’m planning for something bigger than Birch, that means there’s gonna be some sacrifices,” he shrugged.

“Sacrifices? Is that what you call it? Well, here’s one for you, the next time you get a little scuff on your tank or your headlight starts to flicker, you can head down to Carl’s,” you scowled.

“Don’t do this,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I can get business without you. I do better work than Carl, you know that. So go, I’ll deal with that asshole on my own, how I see fit.”

He inhaled and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and thought. 

“Damn it,” he swore, “you can’t make anything fucking easy. What is it with you women and your god damn--” he lifted his hand and stopped himself, “you get in the way of my business, and you won’t be so worried about Loki.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what he said about you,” you mocked, “what’s with you men and your egos?”

His lip curled and he breathed through his teeth. His eyes lit up and he punched his palm as he turned away quickly.

“I hope he has his fun with you. Maybe he can fuck some sense into you,” Bucky growled, “God knows I tried.”

“You weren’t that good,” you snipped.

He kicked the shelf of wipers hung near the front of the shop and grunted. He stormed to the doorway and stopped to look back at you.

“You’ll be wishing it was me…” he hissed.

He waved you off and continued through the front door, slamming it behind him loudly. You stared at the scattered packages of wipers and bit down on your tongue. You wanted to run out and strangle that idiot but you knew how he could be. It was the reason you broke off your little fling; he was too much like you. Hard-headed and volatile.

💀

You weren’t going to change just because the town was overrun by asshole men. You were standing your ground and that meant you were going to finish your club sandwich and enjoy one lunch without interruption. 

The café was busier that day as the snowfall dwindled and the streets were mostly cleared as the plows made their regular rounds. You looked through the window as the school kids stopped by the bakery for hot drinks on their lunch and circled the rim of your mug with your fingertip. You sensed it was only the lull before the storm.

Further down you could see the corner of The Asp and heard a rumbling engine. Your shop remained empty except for Jerome’s bike. Since Bucky’s visit, you were too worked up to concentrate anyway. You wanted to take your wrench and knock every man in town in the head with it.

Nora brought your sandwich as Kimmie didn’t work on the weekends and your side of soup. You would eat both and leave satisfied. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin your day off. Well, not that you had very much to do aside from that.

You dipped your crusts in the tomato soup and stared at the seat across from you. Empty. Perfect.

You scooped the last of the bowl into your mouth and wiped your lips with the napkin. You stood and gulped up your coffee. You left money on the table and headed out. A peaceful, solitary lunch all to yourself.

You skipped the shop and continued down the street. You pushed into the hobby shop you rarely ventured into, more a bookshop if you were honest. You greeted the man at the counter with a smile. When you were a girl, you remembered he ordered you a special set of paints as the ones in his store were all dried up. Lu, you recalled his name.

You went to the shelves of models and looked over the new arrivals. You took the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am off the shelf and smirked. Your father had one just like it when you were a kid. It wasn’t exactly new. You grabbed a bottle of black paint with it, always running low on the stuff, and headed for the counter.

Lu punched the buttons on his till and you heard a creak. Light footsteps emerged from the basement of used books as you opened your wallet.

“I didn’t take you as bookish,” Loki’s voice made you cringe.

You didn’t answer and counted out the bills for your purchase, “actually, you got any glue? I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

“Hmm, oh,” Lu turned and bent to reach into a box, “haven’t stocked up but these came in just before the storm.”

He added the orange and white tube to your bag and you added another bill. He counted out your change and handed it to you.

“Quite interesting what small towns can hide,” Loki didn’t wait to step up to counter and stood close, his sleeve against yours, “An antique edition of Whitman. One of the only Americans I read.”

You looked down at the worn tome, the edges fraying and the letters faded. It was marked up to a couple hundred. You could appreciate a love for reading but you weren’t entirely sure some old paper was worth all that.

“I’ll need the reading material as my visit has been prolonged,” he mused as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, “my brother is due to return so I will stay in his place… get to know the town of Birch more intimately.”

You hid your disgust at his words and continued out the door. His exaggerated tones stuck in your head as you passed the window and absently swung your bag. You hated him. You really did. You should have bashed him over the head with that dumb book. 

You thought of that day in the snow and smiled. You knew that shame lingered in him. You would have no problem repeating that scene.

You came up to your shop and stopped short. The burly redhead who arrived with the pestilent man stood at your door, peering in through the window, angling his head as he tried to see around the blinds. You cleared your throat as you neared.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked dully.

“Oh, ah,” he turned and laughed at himself, “I thought… Loki, I thought he’d be here.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” you said, “he’s down at the book shop.”

“Thanks. He apologise?” He prodded.

“You seem to know him well. You think he did?” you challenged.

“Ah, nah,” he smiled awkwardly, “s’pose he didn’t.”

“S’pose he didn’t,” you echoed, “it would be smart if you kept him away from here.”

“Yeah, uh, should do,” he sidled past you and you listened to his heavy boots clump along the beaten snow.

You took out your key and unlocked the door. You closed it quickly behind you, that man’s presence set you on edge. He hadn’t shown any of the venom of his associate but he was loyal to him. You double checked the locks on all the doors and made certain all windows were closed. 

You went up stairs into your apartment and stripped off your coat and boots. You sat at the small table where you ate those dinners you didn’t forget and unpacked your new model. You sorted the pieces and spread out the instructions. The image of the car on the box brought back nostalgic memories. You wouldn’t know all you did about bikes if it wasn’t for your dad. You missed him every day for the last… too many years.

You lost yourself in the tiny parts. You hunched over the table and carefully dabbed glue onto the plastic. Your eyes began to itch as the windows dimmed and you got up to turn on the lamp. You kept building well after dark and finally left the half-finished car on the table.

You stretched out your limbs as you stripped down to only your loose tee and yawned. You fell into bed and turned on the old tube television. You hit play on the VCR and the loud previews blared from the boxy speakers. You rolled yourself in your comforter and sat through the same movie trailers you’d watched a dozen times.

You were never a romantic but you the movie was another shadow of your childhood. Your grandma used to watch Kathleen Turner whenever you went to her place. She would serve you yogurt and berries and turn on the cheesy action flick and if you slept over, she would put in the sequel right after.

Your rituals kept you sane. You found it was easier to know what to expect and given your temper, it was better not to be surprised. You were always the trouble child and you regretted all those times your dad had to come talk to the principal or walk you home from school. You promised him you would be better.

Still you didn’t regret what you did. He always told you to stand up for yourself. Hell, he taught you how to throw a punch and all your best insults were inherited from him. You smiled as you thought of him and hugged your pillow as the intro played and the credits flicked up one name at a time.

You drifted off in the glow of the television and the sound effects sank into your dreams. You were still in Birch but thick vines had grown around all the buildings and billowing leaves shrouded the skies. The town had turned to jungle and you could hear the growls and grunts of beasts unseen.

You spun as a twig snapped and a snake uncoiled from a branch and fell into the brush at your feet. You stepped back and it slithered towards you. You stumbled and ran away as you could hear its skin smoothly glide through the grass at your feet. You tripped as its long body wrapped around your ankles and you crashed to the ground.

You struggled as the snake constricted your body and wound its neck around to face you. Its green eyes shone as its black scales gleamed. Its tongue flicked against your cheek and you felt its hot breath as it opened its mouth and revealed long, frightening fangs. You screamed as its bite loomed and you woke with a start.

The visions of the wild jungle faded but the heat did not. You blinked as an amber haze took over the room and you fought through your messy blankets and tumbled onto the floor. Your curtains were alight along with much of the wall. You bachelor was blazing with orange flames and you could barely see the door through the smoke.

You coughed and scrambled to your feet. Your eyes streamed and you blindly ran for the door and flew down the stairs. The shop was almost entirely engulfed as you reached the lower landing and you fumbled with the front door as flames licked closer and closer.

You burst out into the frozen night and your feet were numbed by the ice and snow. You retreated from the burning building, your life set aflame, and turned back as you reached the sidewalk. Sirens screamed and made you wince as you crossed your arms and chattered against the cold.

“Pity,” the slither made your skin crawl, “though I suppose it is a blessing you at least saved yourself.”

You glanced at Loki as your vision blurred with the tears of realisation. Everything you had was turning to ash before you. You blinked away the droplet and sneered at him. He smirked and you knew. He smirked and he knew. It wasn’t an accident.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Last Christmas

Word Count: 1100

Warnings: some language but none really

A/N: And so our story comes to an end, for now. Our handsome Irish anti-hero and head-strong Lady Lawyer will return in the spring for an all new Misfits!AU sequel inspired by conversations with @robertsheehanownsmyass 🤨

Tag list: @joz-stankovich @badsext @elliethesuperfruitlover @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @magic-multicolored-miracle @immortalled

Chapter Five: Last Christmas

When Violet turned 35, she changed her entire life. Everything she set out to do as a Public Defender was always overshadowed by just how many shitty people needed legal aid. The one or two kind, desperate clients a year just never stacked up to or made the other 100 worth it.

So Violet packed up all of her things, bid everyone a fuck you and cried in her dark apartment for a week. No prospects or experience with anything but law, it frightened her how easily she dropped everything to just do.. nothing. She ignored her sisters, “Why don't you go back to New Orleans? Or back to school!” And the calls from Tony “Come back to the firm!” Then one day.

There was a knock on the door that startled Violet from her misery. She didn't care how she appeared to the courier who handed her a rather monstrous package. She signed and tore into it revealing a thick release form and three proofs of graphic novels. Then her heart leapt into her throat.

Lanky with a devil’s smirk on his face and a cocky stance in jeans and black jacket with the collar turned up. The indentation of a dimple Violet had found herself touching as he died or slept. They somehow found a way to capture the unusual green that could have easily ruined her. And even though it was just a drawing, she could hear Nathan’s smart mouth.

Beside Nathan on the cover was a shorter, almost creepy but not unattractive guy. He donned a black sweatshirt, hood pulled up and Kevlar body pads. In the background an array of others in orange jumpsuits. Simon, she knew from her own masochistic research, and infamous remaining ASBO 3.

“Captain Invincible and The Super Hoodie: The Misfits Tales,” Violet snorted. “Huh.”

Still she sat down and flipped through it. Each section more absurd yet somehow believable than the next. Nathan impaled on a metal fence. Simon stuffing a female probation worker in a freezer. Alisha using touch to elicit the most perverse filth from men’s mouths. Curtis and his ability to rewind time reliving the night they all got busted a hundred times. And Kelly, having sex with a guy that was a gorilla. It all converged into the final book, “Vegas Baby.”

Violet held her breath as she moved towards the end. The parts where she didn't expect to exist. That she even came across Nathan’s mind all these years later was curious to her, as was the version he came up with. All she could do was laugh and cry simultaneously.

There she was, more of a sexy librarian in a porn than a lawyer. Her skirt (she normally wore pants during trial) a bit too short, and her boobs far too large. Her cleavage out of control through a low cut dress shirt. She had her hair twisted up (which was true) and glasses (really?!). Nathan in that fitted suit looking more like an Irish mobster than the nervous man-child who chewed his fingers until they bled. A panel with Violet leaning, tits out, towards him as she questioned him before an explosion of rabbits.

Here was the story. It explained this fantasy of Violet, sexy porno lawyer, that's how Nathan saw her. He admitted she was rather plain and stuffy when they first met. Though by the end of their visit, her cheek and determination and inability to put up with his shit became a turn-on. How she played him on the stand and found a way to instill reasonable doubt by throwing Marnie under the bus in his defense was something no one had ever done before. Weirdly encouraged his arrogance, showed cool indifference to his charm, yet never gave up on him no matter how exasperated he made her. All of this made her “the sexiest bird I’d ever seen. I had t’be with her.”

Violet continued to the bits after the trial. The club, Nathan handing some meathead his tongue that had literally fallen out of his mouth. It wasn't even in Nathan’s head how drunk they were that night, their illustrated bodies simulating sex on the dancefloor or when she called him Irish Eyes in the back of a black cab. His insistence that the way she dodged his kisses, actually ducked like his lips were a dodgeball, made it “difficult for him to walk.” Violet rolled her eyes. A deep crimson still crept across her cheeks.

Then that night. That messy surprising night when her knife fit so perfectly in Nathan’s flesh and right into his heart. Sometimes Violet didn't know what haunted her more: the amount of blood he shed or the utter disdain in his eyes as the door slammed behind him.

As Violet ventured to that page, a perfect drawing of them on her hallway floor. Nathan’s head in her lap as she stroked his hair while he died. The air in her throat choked her as she read the panels.

“I forget hardly anyone knows I'm going to live forever. It hurts t’die with a butcher knife in your chest. Not as much as a sewer pipe or metal fence, mind ye. I don't always like the idea myself. But I did like the idea of our handsome hero being comforted by his own Lois Lane.

Kelly and Simon used t’drag me up a flight of stairs and toss me on my dirty mattress at the community center. Waited about like I was late for a concert. Kelly took the piss, didn't she?

Vi held me as I ruined her floor. No one’s held me while I've ruined anything. Wait till she finds out I'm such a selfish prick that I destroyed time just to get back a mate who didn't even like me to start.”

Violet didn't even have time to cry the tears that stung her eyes. Or think about what those words really said between the lines. Her cellphone rang making her scream a bit.

“FERN?!”

“Lettie you ok?”

“Just a bit shaken. I have to go through a release form to agree to my likeness being in both graphic novels and apparently the chance to option a film based on them.”

“Uh..”

“Nevermind, what's up?”

“Claire got a job in London at Burberry. Could you sell your apartment? Move with us and be Marigold’s nanny? You could look into getting back into law over there somehow. Eventually right?”

Violet laughed. From a lawyer to a nanny. “Why the fuck not? I know an Irishman over that way.”

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Of Gods and Men

Masterlist:  

Title: Of Gods and Men

Fandom: Supernatural / Vikings

Pairing: Destiel and Sabriel

Rating: Lemon

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, smut, angst, still some fluff

Summary: A Vikings inspired Destiel fic.

     Dean, Barbarian King of the lands, must make a crucial decision in the survival of his people. Leave the one and only land and life they have ever known, leave their home, or make the possibly dangerous journey across the seas to a potentially better life. Who knows what will await him across the waters, hope, future, maybe even destiny.

AO3 Link 

Masterlist

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Chapter one

     The sun was beginning to rise over the fields of Nazareth. The sky painted orange and pink over the sea, casting deep shadows over their boats that were docked there, making them look like haunted silhouettes in the early dawn light. Sam lifted his head to peer out over the sea, then turned to gaze upon their fields. He sighed and leaned on his shovel as he was faced with mostly emptiness. 

     Beside him Dean continued to work in the early morning. Sam watched as over and over again Dean pounded his hoe into the ground with every inch of desperation he had. Sweat was dripping off his face, trailing down his chin and nose, soaking into the useless soil beneath them. He paused a moment and took a deep, heaving breath, before leaning down to sift a hand through the dirt. Nothing. Not even a dead root to prove seed had even been planted there. 

     "It is of no use, Brother," Sam shifted off his hoe and stepped beside Dean with a frown, "the fields are dead, and those fields we have left that are hanging on still, are not far behind. The soil just cannot produce for us any longer."

     "I know this, Sam, but what more can we do but continue to try," he stood straight and waved a hand over the barren fields, "maybe more fertilizer, or perhaps another sacrifice-"

     "Dean," Sam sighed and shook his head, "we have made sacrifice after sacrifice, and nothing has changed. I do not think the Gods are our problem here."

     "Then what? What else?"

     "This could be a sign," he looked up and took another step towards Dean, "a sign that it is time to move on, seek out other options.".

     "You speak of leaving home! Leaving Nazareth!" He exclaimed, eyes wide and unbelieving, "Sam, we know nothing else."

     "What other choice do we have here, Brother?" He shook his head, "The fields produce not but the most withered of crops, if any, all half rotten before they are birthed from the ground. Most of the fields do not even give us as much, they breathe no life, not even a worm to turn the soil. We've killed most of our animals for food where the fields have not supplied, and what little livestock we do have left will be gone by spring. We will be lucky to make it through the winter with what we have left, and come spring we will no longer be able to feed our people. Starvation will set in and disease shortly after. Many of the elders and young ones are already having troubled times, they will not survive if we run out of food. We need to find another way."

     "And what exactly do you suggest I do?!" Dean shouted as he tossed his hoe across the field then turned back to Sam, "The lands around us are all spoken for, ruled by Earls and Lords, so we cannot take them in hopes of better land for crops. And even if we wanted to try and take those lands for ourselves, it is as you say, our people are weak from our already depleted stocks. We couldn't fight a war even if we had to, fighting for land and territory is completely out of the question. So tell me, dear brother, what else?"

     Sam nodded, he knew his brother was right. There was no extra land around them to be used, no men strong enough to fight for them, but then a thought came and he nearly shouted it at Dean, "The seas!"

     "Sam-" He began with a sigh. 

     "Listen first," he moved to stand directly in front of Dean, placing his hands on his shoulders with a light shake, "I have seen it in a dream, Brother. Across the seas, a four days float towards the rising sun, there will come a land far more plentiful than any we have ever seen. The soils there are ripe with crops for years to come, pregnable where ours are not, our people will flourish in these lands long after we are dead and gone. Once we are settled there will be no starvation, no disease, no hurt, no heartache, Dean. And you!"

     "Me?" He questions, "What about me?"

     "You, my brother, Barbarian King of the lands, married and blessed with child. No," he stops and turns away from Dean for a moment, eyes closed as if willing his mind back to the dream, "not child, children! And you running carefree through our crops, a smile on your face and your babes in your arms and on your legs, all of you laughing and happy. For once in your life I watch you living without the burdens of all our people on your shoulders."

     "Sam, it is not the question of my happiness that will make this decision," he sighed and walked forwards to join his brother, looking out over the endless sea together, the sun now fully above the horizon, "in the end I must do what is best for our people, even if that means I should be forever the vision of misery. But perhaps I should visit the Gods and seek their counsel, ask them for guidance on the matter."

     Sam turned to his brother cupping his cheeks with both hands, “Yes! Yes, Brother! Speak to the Gods, for they dote upon you. They will tell you the best path to take for the good of our people.”

     “I will then, tomorrow at dawn I shall ride to their house.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean stood at the entrance to Nazareth, dawn was chasing him from behind, creeping over the sea as he readied his horse for the ride to the house of the Gods. He ran a gentle hand down Elskans broad neck and the beautiful black stallion pushed back against him. He nuzzled into Dean as he continued to pet him, whispering softly to him, “You will get me safely to the house of the Gods, yes Elskan?” The horse seemed to almost nod in answer and Dean smiled, “I knew I could trust you to take care of me.”

     “I've known no better companion than your Elskan, it is true.” Dean turned from his horse to the newcomers now approaching him with more saddle bags. Sam also gave the horse a gentle pat before turning to his brother. “For how long do you ride?”

     Dean turned back to look at the sun still rising, but quickly approaching them as they stood, “If I leave now I should arrive around midday, as long as Elskan rides true.”

     “You better get going then, Brother, no need to leave this wait any longer,” he then lifted the bags in his hands and began turning towards the horse as he spoke over his shoulder, “we brought you more food for the journey, the Gods are tricky sometimes. You may be there a while before they decide to grant you answers to your questions, though I do hope they give you an answer quickly. I shall put these on your saddle so you may be on your way.”

     He nodded in thanks to his brother, then turned and took the few steps to the other man who had come to see him off. He held up a smaller wrapped package to Dean placing it in his hands with a smile. “Some treats for the journey.”

     Dean smiled back as he took the package, “Thank you, Gabriel, though you should have kept these for yourself. Food is scarce these days and I have plenty for the way.”

     He waved him off with a playful scoff, “I need them not. And besides, if I continue eating all the treats I make, and get any chubbier than I already am, your brother will never come around to me.”

     Dean looked back to where Sam was strapping the last of the saddle bags to Elskan, then back to say softly to Gabriel so his brother would not hear, “You will look after my brother while I am gone, won't you?”

     “Of course.”

     “I will be back as soon as I can,” he placed a hand on Gabriels shoulder with a squeeze, “hopefully the Gods answer me quickly so I may return and we can decide on our next move.”

     Gabriel reached over and grabbed Deans shoulder too, “May the Gods be with you, Dean, stay safe.”

     “And may they be with you, Gabriel.”

     Dean leaned forwards and touched his forehead to Gabriels before turning back to Sam who was now behind him. In the same gesture he pulled Sams forehead to his and whispered, “Don’t do anything stupid while I am gone.”

     Sam laughed, “Worry not about me, Brother, for I know you have already solicited the aid of a spy.”

     Sam eyed Gabriel over Dean's shoulder. “He is not a spy, Sam, but at least I know with him looking after you it's less likely that you will do anything stupid.” Sam continued to eye Gabriel, then Dean brought his face back to his with a hand on his cheek. “Why do you push him away? He dotes after you.”

     “You mean follows me around like a pup that's lost its mother.”

     Dean gave his brother a look, “Sammy, I would give anything to have someone want for my attention as much as he does for yours. Give him a chance.”

     He looked once more over at Gabriel who gave him a fond smile, then back at Dean, “We shall see. Once the Gods help you make your decision, I shall make mine.” Sam then lifted his head to look at the sun now clear over the edge of the sea. “You should go, Brother, else you will be riding till nightfall.”

     Dean nodded and tapped his head once more against Sams, “Gods be with you, Sammy.”

     “Gods be with you, Brother.”

     He walked with Dean over to his horse, watched as he mounted, then gave him one last nod as he watched him ride into the forest out of sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     His ride for the most part was quiet, and he was thankful for that as he pulled Elskan to a stop at the bottom of a steep hill in the forest. Midday was now upon them, the ride had taken just as long as he had expected, and now the final part of his journey was upon him. 

     He dismounted Elskan and moved to run a hand down his nose. "You wait here for me, Elskan, I know not how long I will be so do not leave without me."

     The horse shook its head in response and Dean smiled. He gave Elskan one last pat then turned and began his trek up the steep hill. 

     It was late afternoon before he finally reached the top, stopping only for a moment to awe in the splendor of the house of the Gods. A grand temple stood before him, said to have been built by Odin and his sons, come down to earth to gift them with this breathtaking magnificence.  

     Slowly he made his way to the gold steps of the temple, and up to the majestically carved wooden doors that stood nearly as tall as the trees they were made from. Every time Dean came to visit the Gods he was overtaken by the sheer beauty of this place, of the craftsmanship of the Gods, it could never compare to that of the human hand. He gently ran his hands down the intricate carvings on the doors, the stories of the Gods themselves laid out before him, and after a moment he pushed with both hands and entered the temple. 

     He was instantly washed over with a calm in the house of the Gods, something he had not felt in years. The woes of his people had taken a great toll on Dean, and he could only hope and pray that the Gods would give him the help he so desperately craved. This was his last chance, his people's last chance for survival. If the Gods had nothing to give him then all of Nazareth would surely die. 

     At the thought he took a deep breath, soaking in the calm of the temple, and made his way to the center of the room. There stood a tree, taller even then the temple itself and older then even the Gods. The tree stretched it's limbs out towards the sky, reaching for the Gods above, nearly tall enough to touch them. This is why Odin had chosen this tree and built their temple around it, the one connection between man and Gods. And on either side of the tree stood great statues of the Gods, of Odin and Thor and Loki, kneeling and reaching for the tree. 

     Dean stopped before the tree, eyes never leaving it as he too knelt before it, much in the same manner as the Gods though never as close. At his knees, a river flowed through the temple from side to side, winding through the roots of the tree of the Gods. The river sparkled crystal clear before Dean even in the dim light of the temple. The Gods never ceased to amaze him in all that they were capable of. 

     He sat for a few minutes, breathing and taking it all in, before he slowly raised his arms out to his side's and tilted his head back. "My Gods, Odin, Thor, Loki, I beg of you to answer my call," he whispered to the skies, eyes closed tight in desperation, "I ask you to show me the way. My people are dying, starving in our dying lands, with no hope of a future if we stay. Please, show me how to lead my people away from death and toward a brighter future, please show me."

     He slowly bent over moving his arms towards the river. He touched his hands to the flowing stream, the cool water running steady between his fingers, before cupping his hands and gathering the water. 

     With the water settled in the nest of his hands he sat back on his heels again, tilted his head, and held the water above his face. He whispered once more, hoping as hard as he could that the Gods would hear him, "Show me the way," and let the water trickle out between his hands and land on his face. 

     Dean was only able to place his hands by his sides before his prayers were answered and the Gods took him over. His eyes shot open, rolled backwards, and he sucked in a deep breath as the last thing he felt was his body falling to the side but never hitting the floor as darkness took his vision. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     He woke in a land he knew not of. Rolling hills covered the horizon beyond beautiful, full fields, the crops as tall as a young child. The rising sun came this time from beyond the hills, the sea behind him, he had crossed the sea with his people. The Gods had listened, had heard his prayers, and were showing him the life they would have if he took the path Sam had seen in his dream.

     He turned away from the sea to look back over their new lands. Paddocks filled with healthy, strong livestock, his people happy, children playing, laughing. For the first time since he took the rule of Nazareth from his father he found himself smiling, actually feeling joyous and happy, relieved. It was a blessing from the Gods themselves. 

     He tilted his head back to take in the warmth of the sun on his skin, to listen to the sounds of his thriving people around him, and then a child. The young boy ran towards him, arms out for Dean. He lifted the boy above his head and twirled him once before holding the boy close to his chest, blowing a playful kiss on his cheek as the boy's laughter filled Dean's heart. He continued giggling as Dean tickled his side's, squirming in his arms as he wrapped his little arms around Dean's neck, "Daddy!"

     "Daddy…" Dean thought as he watched another child, and another child, and another, all running towards him, same as the first young boy. Jumping at him as they all laughed. He threw each of them in the air one by one, kissing each of them as he did, listening to their laughter mingle with his own. A sound he felt he hadn't heard in a very long time. 

     Then the first young boy turned from Dean and ran towards someone else. He looked up and followed the boy as he ran, holding his arms out to someone, and laughing as he was once again lifted into the air and held against another's chest. He was given another kiss on the cheek, then he wrapped his arms around the kisser's neck in as tight an embrace as his little body could give and said, "Papa!"

     “Papa?” Dean furrowed his brows and brought his eyes to finally rest on the face of the one holding the young boy. A man. A very beautiful man. Dark hair framed a sharp face, holding a smile so bright the Gods themselves would worship it. 

     The beautiful man looked down at his son in his arms… at their son. Then he lifted his gaze to look at Dean with piercing blue eyes, as captivating as the seas that Dean knew so well, seas that called to him as much as those blue eyes were, and the man smiled with all the brightness of the sun as his eyes landed on him. 

     "Dean," the man spoke in a voice as smooth as the winds around them. It pulled Dean in even further, his body reacting to this man in ways he never thought possible. The husk in his voice sent lightning through his veins, the lust and desire in his eyes as he looked at Dean had him frozen in place. 

     "Dean," he spoke again, one hand now reaching out towards him, "wake up, come to me."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean woke with a shattering start on the temple floor. His body was covered in a cold sweat, his breathing ragged as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He sucked in shattered breaths and rolled to lean to one side as he tried to catch his breath and thought of what he had seen. What a vision the Gods had shown him, it was definitely a brighter future for his people, but was he really willing to uproot everyone? To take everyone away from everything they've ever known in Nazareth and plant them in a new and uncertain land? But if the Gods had shown him, then how could it go wrong?

     After a while of sitting on the floor and having finally caught his breath, he pushed himself up to his feet, but as he did a strange feeling on his left arm caught his attention. It wasn't pain, but rather a warmth wrapped around his upper arm, a feeling that had not been there before he arrived. 

     Curious, he slowly rolled his sleeve back and his breath hitched when he saw what now lay there. A scar, but not just any scar, it was a perfectly shaped hand print. There had been no injury, nor anyone else with him in the temple, not to mention it was completely healed. The only explanation Dean could think of was that it was a gift from the Gods, though why they had given it to him he did not know. 

     He remained in his place on the floor of the temple for a while longer, contemplating not only his new scar but all that the Gods had been so gracious as to show him. Maybe his brother was right, maybe their new lives did await them across the seas. Fertile fields filled with plentiful crops, thriving livestock, happiness, and that man. Never had he seen a more beautiful creature, never had he been so drawn in by anything more then the sea, but now blue eyes called his name even louder then the crashing waves ever had. 

     He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. The Gods had given him much to think about, and he could not make his decision based purely on the happiness that the Gods think this man could give him, and so his decision could not yet be made. He knew that he had one more thing to do, he must make the half days ride back to Nazareth and seek out the Seer. Once he had conversed with them and gained their own wisdom on the matter, only then would he make his final choice.”

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this! Let me know what you think, I adore reading your comments <3Also, fun fact. I actually did some research and Elskan, the name of Dean's horse is the Viking way of saying 'my love' or my darling' which was the closest to baby I could get. Since the horse is supposed to be the impala XD

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If any of you want to be tagged for future posts, let me know <3

[antique-teacups]

sunshine in L.A.

A/N: kind of an original character piece but also not entirely.  i just was having a great time writing! hope you folks enjoy!

word count: 3k

There was something about her twenties that never felt quite right, worn like a sweater a size to large. She watched as her friends floated from relationships and friendships seamlessly, while she felt caught. In what exactly, she wasn’t sure. Part of her hoped with time that feeling would fade, become background static instead of pumping along with her heartbeat. Going with the current, she did exactly what was expected of her. Attended college, albeit a community college, but college none the less. Part time work covered what financial aid wouldn’t, even scraping enough together to buy a beater car.

Time drifted on and the feeling stayed, haunting and hollow. Avoiding the problem didn’t lessen its size but it never grew. In the back of her mind constantly. Social media was the worst part, watching her friends flourish and flower, while it took everything in her to remain sane and present. Two years flew by in the blink of an eye and she were left with a tiny degree she was not sure she really wanted. When the opportunity did present itself, she knew it was one she could not possibly pass up.

She knew that even in L.A these demons could surface but maybe the constant sun could choke them out. Packing her meager belongings into the back of her car, she pointed it in the direction of L.A. Whether she actually ended up in the sunshine state wasn’t the point, but rather, it was to get out. Stop the cycle before it became the only focal point of her life. It took longer than it should’ve, she passed the days slowly. Each spent behind the wheel simply heading west.

L.A. was a zoo. She worked your way through the city with fascination and hopefulness. She was certain of one thing and uncertain of many. She hoped to write but was willing to do just about anything to make money. Well, just about anything, she still harbored some self-respect.

L.A. had of a way of worming its way into your heart, no matter how shitty people made it seem. Each self-respecting L.A citizen hated the city as much as they loved it. She found a decent studio apartment, managed to get a job as a barista quickly, and spent the first month slinging caffeine in the daytime and writing into the wee hours of the morning. Cash was always tight, considering she did live in one of the most expensive cities, but there was semblance of happiness. It was clawing it’s way in on the edges of her life.

The customers were not particularly strange, at least not always. There were a couple of memorable moments, but most days passed by in monotony. She knew customers by their orders, not names. These small moments between the register and picking up their coffee offered she a small window into their world. These hints they dropped left her wondering about their lives outside their order and these four walls. Who were these people who flocked to the shop like cattle to slaughter?

She certainly played favorites, every barista did, with both customers and coworkers. There were those who made the days a little brighter. The first was her coworker James. Somewhere in his twenties like her but an old soul. He came to work in sweaters, cooper rimmed circular glasses, and disheveled hair on the daily. He was welcoming and warm and chased away some of the darkness.

The two of them became instant friends. He would wait after work to hang out, get drinks on the weekend, and spend Sunday brunch complaining about his hangover. At first, she was confronted with the concern that maybe he was worming into her life in hopes of it ending in a relationship, but as soon as she met his boyfriend Scott, that fear was put to rest. In a way, she chose the two of them as family. She spent countless hours with them, at ease with the way things were.

In James, she confided most of her fears and a lot of her guilt. The backstory of her life surprising him but explaining the front she put up. Tragedy often bores the strongest soldiers. In the year she had been in L.A, James helped her pick up the pieces and put herself together, an unrepayable favor. Thanksgiving was right around the corner and she were destined to spend it with James and Scott.

“James, I’m running to the grocery store after work and if you play your cards right there might just be a bottle of Prosecco with your name on it.” she joked over the espresso machine, a sly smile on her lips. James and her always bantered at work, often to the amusement of the customers and other coworkers.

James matches her smile, “Oh honey, you act like I would actually need to play my cards to get it, I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.” He chuckles and turns back to the drawer. The day was getting late, closing time just mere hours away. She was practically counting down the hours till she could curl up on his couch and binge “New Girl”, the new obsession for the two of them.

“I like to pretend it’s the other way around, but I would admit you are right, James. But besides that, anything else?” she asked, hardly looking at him. There was unspoken communication between you two most days, a glance could tell a story. “I was thinking pizza this fine Wednesday night. But I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

“And break the Wednesday night pizza tradition, how absurd!” James feigns hurt, a hand over his heart and concerned expression painting his face. “The table is already set, we can’t go making changes now, silly girl.”

“Then pizza and prosecco it is. Perfect.” She giggled and sent a curt nod in his direction. The entire conversation was an open invitation for him to change the plans, but he never did. Wednesday night was always reserved for the two of them. They devoured pizza and whatever show they were working on. It was sacred to them both.

The rest of the day passed quickly, the sun just barely setting when she and James locked the shop doors. A brief hug and a quick exchange of words and the two of them were off in opposite directions. A pit stop at the grocery store and then to James’ place. He would order the pizza in, as per tradition. Tasked with grabbing the drinks and whatever bits she needed, she would be to his place shortly.

Her car sat tucked in the back lot, warm from sitting in the sun. Cranking the window open once she had climbed inside, turning on the radio, she set off to the grocery store. It was smaller than most that scattered around L.A, which is why it was her favorite. She did not have to fight the yoga obsessed mothers to get through the aisles or hope the hipsters didn’t pick through the all the good stuff before she got a chance to be there. The old man, who she assumed owned it, knew her by name. Often, he would gift products just a day out of date to her. He did save your ass more than once.

“Charles, what’s the good word for today?” She asked, swinging the door open and nabbing a basket.

Smiling, he gushed, “I beat the finalist in Jeopardy today, but I’m here and he’s there,” shrugging he went on, “I put some of those cookies you like in the back, they went out of date yesterday, Dandelion.” Charles had been using the nickname since she had started coming here. She was totally convinced he had to be her guardian angel. When she asked him where it came from, his response surprised her. “Like the weed, you always come back. You are full of fire and strong. I can see it.” She felt partial to this grocery store. She ended up here for a reason.

“Great, I was craving something sweet all day. Remind me, I have got something for you in my bag before I go. Don’t worry, nothing poisonous.” Jokingly she added.

Charles had a love for Jim Harrison. Often when she was browsing at old bookstores or garage sale’s she would stumble across one for him. He probably owned nearly every single book published by Harrison, but always acted thankful and surprised when she presented him with another. She wanted to make sure he knew how much she appreciated him in a way of more than just saying thank you.

She scanned the aisles looking for the familiar packaging of her favorites. She hardly noticed the boy till she had practically run into his back.

“Another one in Charles good graces, a rare species.” He teased.

Chuckling, “That must mean there are people on Charles bad side, which I highly doubt.” He was home strung, as far as she could tell. Clean cut and not looking for a lot of attention, judging by his all black attire. “I’m assuming you’re one of the lucky ones, too.” She implored.

“Thankfully, I have managed to make my way into one of his chosen few. Even without it, I would still come here. This is the only grocery store where I don’t have to cross my fingers and hope all the good stuff isn’t picked over. Charles seems to have a force field to keep this place hidden. Certainly, the best kept secret of L.A.,” he pauses, searching your face, “you work at the coffee shop on Sunset, Eight-Fold Coffee, right?”

“Guiltily is charged, Mr. iced latte with almond milk,” tapping your temple, “steel trap. I only know people’s drinks, not their names, sorry. I was wondering if you looked familiar or if it was just the lighting.”

Extending a hand, cheekily responding, “David. The name’s David Dobrik, or iced latte if you please.”  His smile was easy and charming, you couldn’t help but stare. His entire posture oozed ease, you couldn’t quite decide if he was trying to flirt or simply be friendly. Of course, that wonderful friend called self-doubt started to crawl its way into your chest, so it was time to go.

Flashing him what you hoped was a friendly parting smile, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. It was nice finally meeting in more than just an ‘iced latte with almond milk’ kind of way. I’ll see you around. I have promised the roommate a night in and if I don’t come through, the world might stop turning.” Turning on her heel, tossing David a small wave, she headed for the register. All the things she needed forgotten.

She set the single bottle on the counter and wait for Charles to ring it up. Silence elapses, you lost entirely in your own thoughts.

“Dandelion?”

“Huh, what?” she missed what he asked, cheeks flushing at him catching her in dreamland.

“Lots on your mind today?” Charles inquired, a knowing look on his face.

Smiling and rolling her eyes, “I respect the fishing for a morsel of mind but maybe when inquiring minds aren’t near.” she winks. Digging in your bag, she pulls the book for him, Returning to Earth, out. “I found it at a garage sale this weekend and thought you could add to your collection. But this one, is to expand your horizons.” She pulls The Pleasures of the Damned by Charles Bukowski out. “I’ll need it back but keep it as long as you need, I know where to find you. See you around Charles.” She pays and get ready to go, sneaking one last glance in David’s direction. Grabbing onto her bag with the prosecco and cookies tucked in, she heads for the doors. One last look to the aisles and she can see David still tucked amongst them, scouring for something in the sea. A shake of her head and she is out the doors.

Tossing the bag in the passenger seat, she meanders down the streets towards James. A stampede of thoughts about David comes and goes. It was just mutual acknowledgement that the two of them did in fact kind of know each other. Yet, she found herself wondering if she should tell James about him, see if he had any insight on the guy. The thought felt foolish considering it was just a run in at the grocery store, nothing more.

Charles knew more about her then he let on. He knew her heart was kind but had been through a lot, he knew you were loyal and strong, but he knew also knew when her heart would tell you who to let in. David did not need much from that grocery store, mostly some alone time. His inquiring mind also wanted some more information on the barista who stole his breath away. As he left that day, Charles told him something he would carry with him for a while. “People like her, they guard their hearts, but hers is golden. It won’t always be shut.”

Opening the door to James and Scott’s apartment, she could smell the pizza. Her mouth was already watering. James rounded the corner into view between the small kitchen and living.

“I was beginning to wonder if you bailed.” He poked.

“On you, never.” Rolling her eyes.

“I am almost flattered.” He made for the bag in her hand, noticing the cookies right away. “Charles treats you like your one of his own grand kids. One of the people placed on that golden list.”

“About Charles coveted list, I ran into a guy from the coffee shop. David? Iced latte with almond milk, dresses like an unemployed ninja. Do you know anything about him?” She asked trying to keep the hopeful tone from her voice.

James searches her face before continuing. “A sudden interest in a customer, more like prominent interest. I’ve noticed the favorites you play with him.” He flashes you a joking grin. “I don’t know much about him honestly. I’ve heard whisperings from the other baristas that he has some youtube channel, not much else. He seems nice.” Bumping his shoulder with hers, “It wouldn’t hurt if you tried to be friends with him. It’s not a crime to branch out. I would not be insulted if you did. I worry that maybe you don’t because I take up a lot of your time.”

“Certainly not, you take up a perfect amount of my time. I just, remember how hard it is for me to be friends with people, I guess. I am a lifelong hermit. Plus, if he’s doing that whole ‘social media career’, he might not be the kind of friend I want.” Socializing was never her strong suit and if David’s preferred choice was blasting his life across the platforms, maybe she would take a pass.

The two of you vegged out on the couch way past what was a reasonable time, both scheduled to open tomorrow. He was on her mind all night, the little she knew about him had her mind doing circles. He seemed innocent enough, a good guy if Charles liked him.

 The sun shown through the windows all morning, bringing a warming light to the coffee shop. All day you hoped he would pop in, yet, it went unanswered. Clocking out, she nabbed her notebook and a mug of coffee, making her way to the bank of windows along the window. She tried to keep her mind from wandering, yet it seemed impossible. Perhaps she scared him off.

“I figured you were a writer. Nobody suggests poetry books, Bukowski especially, unless they are a writer. Or terribly sad, but judging by the notebook, I’d say the first.” David said, standing next to you bathed in the afternoon sun. He looked as though he just woke up but in a delicious way. His hair was messy and his eyes warm. She could not help but bath in the light emanating from him.

A small smile spread on her lips, “You’re a fan?”

“I saw it on Charles counter on my out yesterday. A simple Google Search did the trick. Guy seems kind of dark for you.” A blush plays on David’s cheeks. “I was hoping to run into you today. Listen, me and my friends are going to this party tonight, would you be interested?”

“Uh,” glancing behind the counter you see James shaking his yes vigorous, “sure, why not?” It seemed in David’s presence, the hole in her chest seemed to lessen some.

[bellakitse]

Lovin' you is a gift tonight (Lovin' you for all my life)

Ten years ago when Alex leaned in for a kiss, Michael panicked and with it missed his shot. He's lived with that regret for a decade. Some things are always meant to be though and fate gives him a second chance when he runs into Alex at an airport as they wait for their delayed flight.

stuck at the airport fic 13.6K

Michael Guerin has no one to blame for his current situation but himself. Well, maybe he can also blame the weather, which, if he thinks about it, was absolute shit because of global warming, which is the fault of power-hungry politicians and greedy corporations. So really, he isn't the one his sister should be yelling at, not that Isobel Evans cares to listen right now.

"What do you want me to do, Iz?" he asks for the second time when she pauses from lecturing him to take a breath. "I just spoke to one of the attendants at the gate; the flight is delayed because of the snow."

"If you had booked your flight when I asked you to," she starts, repeating herself for the millionth time. He exhales loudly in hopes it will stop her, but not the least surprised when it doesn't. "Instead of waiting till the last minute, you could have gotten a flight from Boston to Dallas to Roswell instead of having to stop in Denver. Where of course there's snow, because it's fucking Colorado, Michael."

“Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20 and all that, Isobel,” he tells her, sighing yet again as she scolds him some more. He takes a seat at the far end of the terminal where there are fewer people, most of his fellow passengers are closer to the gate door, taking their frustrations out on two flight crew members who have the unfortunate luck of being there.

There is only a small cluster of people where he is. An elderly couple who seemed satisfied in dozing off against each other to his right. A woman to his left with a small child who has his face pressed against the window watching the ground crew that is trying to clear the runways, and a man in ripped jeans and a worn leather jacket, sitting across from him. Michael can’t see his face as he roots through his backpack, but what he can see, he likes.

Dark glossy hair a little longer on the top as the fringe falls over the guy’s eyes. Michael spots a few days’ worth of stubble when the guy turns his face, which does nothing to hide sharp cheekbones and the kind of jawline Michael would like to sink his teeth into. He looks down at the guy’s hands as he sorts through his bag and catches a glimpse of chipped black nail polish and silver rings; it makes Michael’s stomach clench as it reminds him of someone else who liked that look. He’s always had a thing for the rocker vibe, and this guy is filling it to a tee. Michael really wants to see his face and see if it matches the rest of the already pretty package.

“Michael, are you even listening to me?” Isobel complains loudly over the phone, distracting him from enjoying the view in front of him.

“Not really,” he answers honestly, shifting to get comfortable on the airport’s hard plastic chairs. “I tend to tune out your bitching,” he tells her, and the guy makes a sound, indicating that he’s overheard the conversation, his head still in his backpack.

Michael smiles, oddly pleased that he’s amused him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“According to you, I’m always an asshole,” he continues, and the guy’s shoulders give a small shake as he finally looks up.

Michael spots brown eyes and full pink lips curved upward. They’re beautiful, but it’s the man’s eyes that Michael is stuck on. Eyes he’s seen before but not in ten years, eyes that haunt his dreams to this day. Eyes that are widening as they look back at him with recognition.

Alex Manes.

“Guerin?” He asks hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper, while the disbelief is loud and clear.

He ends the call without saying goodbye to Isobel.

“Alex,” he croaks out, his voice cracking in a way it hasn’t since he was a teenager. Given that he hasn’t seen Alex since then, the irony isn’t lost on him.

Alex Manes, the guy responsible for his bisexual awakening.

He gives him another once over now that he can see his face, his gaze no longer interested in a stranger, but instead in the guy that in his private moments, he calls ‘the one that got away.’

At 17, Alex had made the angsty emo look work for him, now the eyeliner was gone, but the edginess was still there. He wasn’t in head to toe black like back in the day; there was a soft-looking green sweater peeking out under his leather jacket, and his hair wasn’t spiked up with vast amounts of gel. Instead, it looked soft, and Michael’s hand itched to touch it.

He recalls the last time they were truly alone. Alex’s kindness still, to this day, warms him from the inside out. The lack of hesitation in Alex to let Michael use his shed when he needed a warm place to stay. How he had given Michael his first guitar just because Michael liked to play, and Alex wanted to do something nice for him.

There is a flutter in Michael’s stomach as he thinks about Alex, gentle and hesitant, leaning in to kiss him. Just as quickly, his stomach drops as he remembers how he turned his face away at the last second in a moment of panic. An action that Michael instantly regretted and has continued to regret ten years later.

After their failed almost kiss, Alex kept his distance, letting him continue to stay in the shed but never coming back to spend time with him, and before he knew it, they were swept up in the excitement of graduation, and after that, Alex was just gone.

He knew enough about Alex's family life to see that he wanted to be as far away from his father as possible, and the boy had not waited for a second longer than he had to. Diploma in hand, he’d gotten a bus out of Roswell, leaving the town with Rosa Ortecho. By then, it was too late for Michael, who was only just realizing that Alex Manes was someone that mattered more to him than anyone outside of Max and Isobel. Leaving Michael with the painful realization that he’d missed his moment.

“What are you doing here?” he blurts out as he gets out of his chair and takes a step towards Alex, instantly cringing at the volume and speed with which he says it. He comes to a halt as Alex startles back in his seat. “I mean- that is-“ he stammers as he waves his hand nervously, feeling his face grow hot. Alex lifts an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say something coherent. “Hi?”

Alex stares at him for a moment longer before he breaks out into a smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Hi, Guerin,” he says, taking a step towards him as he stands, and Michael realizes with a jolt that Alex is going in for a hug. Luckily his body isn’t stuck on stupid like his brain and mouth, and he gets it to cooperate in time. He wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders and tries not to do something mortifying like let out a moan at the feel of Alex’s hard body against his, or worse, press his face into Alex’s neck and inhale his scent like a total creep.

“Hi, Alex,” he mumbles into his shoulder, holding on longer than it’s probably acceptable to greet an old school friend. Fortunately, Alex proves to still be kind and lets Michael hold him, not commenting on the lingering hug, even though his own hands are now loose at Michael’s waist.

Knowing he can’t prolong the embrace any longer without making it weird, he tightens his hold one more second before pulling away without stepping back. This close, he can see Alex’s stupidly attractive face and commit to memory all the ways its change. Gone is the boyishness from years ago. At 28, Alex Manes is a man, and it shows. His features are more defined; the facial hair adds a ruggedness he didn’t have in their youth. There are faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth that makes Michael glad to see them. High school Alex didn’t laugh nearly as much as he should’ve, not when there were bullies at school and an even bigger bully at home, but as glad as it makes him to think of a happy Alex, it’s mixed with a sadness that he wasn’t the one there to make it happen. There is a small scar above his right eye, and he instantly wants to ask him about it as he touches it. He does neither and instead finally takes a step back.

“Hi,” he says once more, and he hopes his smile isn’t as lovesick as it feels, but he’s in front of his teenage crush, that he’s never completely gotten over, and his palms are sweating, his pulse racing.

Alex grins, his eyes flickering with laughter. “Hi, again,” he teases. “Long time no see, Guerin.”

Michael licks his lips nervously. “Ten years.”

Alex nods, still smiling easily at him as he takes back his seat. Michael hesitates for a moment, before deciding that sitting across Alex is too far. He grabs his carry on and rolls it to the seat next to Alex's. He says nothing, looking at him welcoming as Michael sits beside him.

"Where are you headed?" he asks as he tries to get comfortable.

Alex huffs out a laugh. "Roswell."

Michael raises an eyebrow at that. As far as he knows, Alex hasn't been back to Roswell since he left. Michael doesn't go back as often as Isobel would like, but he does go home when he has the time to get away from MIT. He always tries to ask Liz, who is dating Max these days or Maria DeLuca about him, and while he knows that they visit Alex. Alex does not come home, it's a simple fact.

"Yeah, I know," Alex laughs some more. "But you know Liz and Max Evans are together now, right?"

Michael nods, his brother managed to convince Liz to give him a chance when she moved back home over a year ago. He doesn't say that though, since as far as the world is concerned, he is just friends with the Evans twins and not related.

"Well, she's pregnant," Alex confesses, and Michael gestures once more. He knows that Max has been happy-slash-freaked-out about his future half-human, half-alien spawn. Luckily Max had told Liz their little green secret before they got pregnant, much to Isobel's displeasure. Michael’s too, even though he understood Max wanting to tell the love of his life the truth. He looks at Alex and feels a spasm; deep down, he knows that if he were ever to risk telling his secret to a human, it would always be Alex Manes.

It's not the least bit logical, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"Anyway," Alex continues, oblivious to Michael's heavy thoughts. "Liz wants Rosa there for moral support when she tells Arturo, and Rosa called me from California asking me to come for a visit because, and this is a direct quote: ‘if I have to go back to the desert punk, so do you.’" Alex rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "And knowing Rosa, if I had said no, she would have flown to New York just to drag me home, so I figured I should save myself the hassle and just cave to her demands, she's scary when she’s annoyed."

Michael smirks. "Rosa Ortecho is like 5'2," he teases him.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Alex looks at him, unimpressed. "Because I lived with her for six years before she got tired of the east coast winters, and decided to head to SoCal. She might be tiny, but her rage is giant."

Michael laughs, and it grows as Alex gives him the stink eye at his amusement. He's more than ready to continue to tease him when his phone starts ringing. Looking down, he cringes at the caller ID. He's surprised Isobel has waited this long to call him back and yell at him for ending their call. Alex tilts his head to sneak a peek at his phone, making a sound in his throat when he sees the contact name.

“That wouldn’t be Isobel Evans, would it?” Alex questions, making another noise like a laugh when Michael nods, his finger hovering over the answer button. “So, do you want to keep teasing me about being scared of Rosa?”

Michael looks over at him. “At least Isobel is taller,” he tells him, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at him. Alex grins at him in a way that tells him that while he didn’t give in to his urge, Alex knows it, nonetheless. He rolls his eyes and presses the call button.

“Yeah?”

“You hang up on me!” Isobel yells into the phone. “And then you answer yeah,” she says, mocking him. She is loud enough that Alex can hear her, making him cover his mouth to keep her from hearing his laughter.

“Something important came up,” he tells her, looking at Alex. His heart ticking up when Alex raises a teasing eyebrow at him as he points at himself.

“And what’s that?” she demands, loudly.

Michael stares at Alex, locking eyes with him.

Alex holds his gaze, his lips parting as he stares at Michael, and he can only imagine what Alex sees on his face. “A beautiful boy, I used to have a crush on back in high school,” he answers, his gut clenching when Alex lets out a soft sound, his eyes wide as he looks at Michael.

Isobel takes in a sharp breath. “You don’t mean- “

“Yep,” Michael tells her, smiling when she swears. Isobel is the only person who knows about his decade-long feelings for Alex, and he appreciates that she instantly understands the depth of the situation.

“This is literally the only reason I accept you hanging up on me,” she tells him after a moment. “I want details the second you get here, which will be soon, right?”

“They still have us waiting,” he says, looking away from Alex, who is still watching him, with a considering look on his face and over to the screen where it’s again flashing that his flight to Dallas is delayed. “But they haven’t canceled the flight yet, so here's hoping we know something soon.”

Isobel makes a noise of agreement. “Okay, keep me posted.”

“I will,” he assures her.

“Okay,” she says again. “Go get your boy, is he still emo?”

Michael looks over at Alex again, deliberately checking him out. “More of a rocker vibe.”

Alex’s lip twitches.

“Hot?” Isobel asks, pleased.

Michael licks his lips, pleased when Alex tracks the movement. “He was always hot,” he tells her, smirking as Alex shakes his head even as he smiles, and there is a gorgeous blush working its way over his cheeks. Isobel laughs in delight as she says goodbye.

Michael presses end to the call and waits for Alex to say something, anything. He doesn’t look upset that Michael was blatantly talking about him. The way Alex’s brown eyes seem to have darkened, the soft press of his teeth to his bottom lip, tells Michael that Alex isn’t indifferent to him at all. That sexual tension they had as kids is still there for him too.

“So it seems we have a lot to catch up on,” Alex finally speaks, standing up. Michael does the same. “And something tells me that it will be better over drinks,” Alex continues with a glint in his eyes that makes Michael’s stomach flip. “Bar?”

Michael grabs the handle of his carry on and steps closer to Alex, his skin buzzing from being near him and the way Alex looks at him now, so similar to years ago. “Lead the way.”

*

 They don’t say much as they walk away from their gate, nor as they sit at the bar, waiting for his beer and Alex’s jack-n-coke. It’s only after their drinks are placed in front of them that Alex seems ready to talk.

“I have a lot of questions,” he admits as he sips his drink. “Especially after that phone call with Isobel, but I’m not sure how to start.”

Michael thinks for a moment, smiling when an idea comes to him. “20 questions?”

Alex lights up at the suggestion, nodding in agreement with a sly grin.

“I’ll go first,” he says quickly, which earns him an indulgent look from Alex. “Where did you go after high school?” he asks. He knows snippets from his friends when they mention him, but it’s never enough for Michael, who has been longing to know everything about Alex for years.

“I went to New York with Rosa,” Alex starts, turning in his stool to look at him. He tells him about arriving in the city with his friend, sharing a shitty studio apartment with her, working even shittier jobs, while taking online courses. He tells Michael about Rosa getting clean with time and pure grit.

Two Roswell outcasts against the world Alex tells him, smiling the whole time, and Michael can tell that while it obviously wasn’t easy being broke teenagers in New York, he loved every moment of it. “I would play my music in dive bars, and then one day someone heard me and asked if I wanted to write music with them, and I have been doing it ever since.”

“A songwriter,” Michael says with a smile, and Alex returns it brightly.

“I never wanted to be a rock star,” Alex tells him, chuckling as he waves at his clothes. “Despite my appearance. I just wanted to write songs and hear other people play them. I get to do what I love and keep my life private.”

“That’s amazing, Alex,” he says, happy of him. He remembers how little Alex smiled, and now in less than an hour of being in his presence, Michael thinks he’s seen him smile more than all the time he knew him.

“Thanks,” Alex says softly, looking down at his hands as he plays with his rings. He looks back at Michael from under the pieces of hair that have fallen in his eyes. “Your turn, did you go to UNM?”

Michael nods, blushing when Alex gives him a huge smile. “UNM for my undergrad, and now I’m at MIT working on my doctoral in Mechanical Engineering.”

“Dr. Guerin,” Alex teases gently, his smile beautiful. “Damn, Guerin, I always knew you would do amazing things with that big brain of yours.”

It’s Michael's turn to feel bashful as Alex looks at him proudly.

“And Cambridge,” Alex continues casually. “That’s only a few hours drive from New York, to think we’ve been so close all this time.”

Michael turns to look at him; there is a hint of a smirk on Alex’s otherwise neutral expression. “Next question, anyone special in your life?”

Alex tsks him. “You asked the first question. It’s my turn.”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope, you asked me if I went to UNM, and I answered, so it’s my turn again.”

Alex narrows his eyes at him, the hint of a smile on his face. “You sneak. Fine. Is there anyone special in my life?”

Michael nods, licking his lips as he waits in anticipation, letting out a breath when Alex shakes his head.

“New York has been a fun playground for this gay boy,” Alex grins wickedly with the confidence of a man who has discovered his hotness and uses it to his advantage; it sends a spike of heat through Michael. “Much better than Roswell, where I was the only gay kid, that was out anyway,” he says, shooting Michael a loaded look, letting him know that Alex hasn’t forgotten his talk with Isobel. “But no one serious, guess I'm still looking for a boy to love me."

Michael swallows down on the overwhelming urge to scream, 'I volunteer as tribute' like he's Katniss-fucking-Everdeen.

"Your turn to ask a question," he says instead, and instantly feels his hands sweat as Alex turns even further in his seat to thoroughly look at Michael.

Michael does the same, and their knees bump as he turns in his stool. Alex spreads his legs to accommodate him, but all it does is draw Michael’s attention to the fact that Alex's pants are tight and that his parted legs emphasize that little fact. Hiding nothing, like the fact that he's pretty sure Alex isn't wearing underwear under his jeans. Michael feels a little light-headed.

"Did you really have a crush on me back in high school?"

Michael’s head snaps up from where he'd been staring, swallowing hard around nothing. The bravery he had felt when he made the comment earlier evaporating in the face of a direct question. But as he looks at Alex, there is no playful smirk, no teasing, just an honest look on his face with a hint of hopefulness, Michael finds his bravery again and nods.

Alex lets out a breath. "That night in the shed?"

Michael makes a face at the memory. "Instant regret. The second I turned my face, I knew I was an idiot.”

Alex shakes his head. "I freaked you out," he reasons away easily.

"How much I liked you freaked me out," Michael corrects him, feeling warm from the inside out as Alex gives him a sweet smile in return. "You leaned in, and I realized ‘oh shit I like a dude,’" he grins as Alex lets out a chuckle. "Had my gay panic, which turned into my bisexual awakening in the days that followed, but by the time I realized it, you were gone."

Alex’s expression is full of understanding, soft, and kind. "Missed opportunity."

Michael nods, swallowing before he continues with his confession. "You're the one that got away,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle. “I think about it all the time, that if I could do it over again, I wouldn't turn away."

There is a glint in Alex's dark eyes that seems to make them glow; the soft smile on his face is a little amused and pleased. He looks at him for a moment, and Michael holds his breath as he seems to come to a decision. Alex places his hands on Michael's knees, leaning into his space, only stopping when he's a few inches away from Michael.

"Do-over?" he whispers, and he's close enough that Michael can feel his breath touch his face.

Michael thinks for a moment, he must be dreaming, has to be, but he doesn’t question it, because if it is a dream. It’s a dream come true. He closes the space between them, taking Alex’s bottom lip between his. The kiss isn’t tentative like a usual first kiss. There is no uncertainty from either one of them as Alex reaches up, his hands finding their way to Michael’s hair, and Michael slides out of his seat to step in between Alex’s legs. He grips Alex’s thighs and pulls him closer, relishing the sound Alex makes at the back of his throat. He wants Alex to keep making those kinds of sounds; he wants to be the reason for them. They say reality is never as good as your imagination, but the people who say that have obviously never kissed Alex Manes.

His lips are softer than his wildest dreams, and his taste is instantly addictive, he’ll never need acetone again if he gets to keep kissing Alex.

Alex licks into his mouth, and it’s Michael’s turn to let out a noise. He can feel Alex smile into the kiss, so he gives Alex’s thighs a hard squeeze for his smugness, earning a stinging bite that Alex soothes away with a swipe of his hot tongue.

Alex breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away from him; if anything, he holds him closer, his fingers gripping in Michael’s curls. “Fuck, Guerin,” Alex gets out, his voice rough. “You kiss all the boys like that?”

Michael grins, giddy from having the boy of his dreams in his arms, looking at him with those brown eyes of his that always, always, laid Michael low. “Just you, darlin’.”

Alex gives him a growing smile. “Sweet talker,” he teases, his hands leave Michael’s hair, and he cradles Michael’s face between them. “When did you get so smooth?”

Michael laughs, happier than he’s been in a long time. He's more than ready to get back to it, nothing else matters than Alex's mouth, when a voice booms over the speakers.

‘Attention passengers of American Airlines flight 157 Denver to Dallas, has been canceled. Passengers, please report to your gate for further information.’

"That's us, isn't it?" Michael makes a face, already dreading yet another lecture from Isobel.

Alex copies him. "Yep," he says as he runs a hand through his hair, making Michael realize that he hasn't touched it yet. He wants to. He wants to see if it's as soft and silky as it looks. "Rosa is going to bitch me out. She wanted me home earlier in the week."

Michael smiles. "I have the same conversation to look forward to with Isobel."

Alex gives him a half-smile and stands, grabbing his bag and then Michael's hand. "Let's go see what the plan is before we deal with those two."

Michael nods, picking up his carry-on. They leave a tip for the bartender and head for the information desk, waiting their turn as the people before them are dealt with. The young man that greets them, does it with an apologetic smile that tells them he has been saying sorry to a lot of angry people. Given that its December 22nd, so close to Christmas, Michael can’t imagine people being happy with their flights canceled.

He tries to listen as the man tells them that the weather report is saying that the snow should stop by midnight and that their flight is rescheduled for 8:45 am the next day. He tunes out as more apologies are uttered in their direction. His focus is on the fact that Alex hasn’t let go of his hand, his thumb running back and forth over the webbing between his thumb and his index, and he tries to suppress a shiver caused by the calluses of Alex’s thumb over the thin skin. Alex turns in his direction, giving him a knowing smile. He knows Michael isn’t paying attention. But how can he pay attention when he’s actually standing next to Alex? Holding hands with him after finally kissing him like he’s dreamed about for the last ten years.

Alex is lucky he’s not plastered to his back, his arms around him, clinging to him as he presses his face to his neck the way he really wants to.

“We have a shuttle bus that will take you to the hotel,” the attendant tells them, and Michael snaps out of his frankly embarrassing fantasy of living the rest of his days like Alex’s backpack. “Again, we’re so sorry for the inconvenience, sirs.”

“Please stop apologizing, you can’t control the weather,” Alex tells the man with a sincere smile, and the attendant turns a shade of pink. Michael can almost see the heart eyes he gives Alex.

He frowns at the man even though he gets it. It’s pretty much his reaction to Alex, but that doesn’t mean he likes other people reacting the same, especially when he’s right next to him. He shifts closer to him, giving the attendant a look that silently says, ‘back the fuck off.’

The flight attendant clears his throat nervously, darting his eyes away from Alex, looking at Michael with apologetic acknowledgment.

“The van will be outside waiting for you,” he tells them quickly. “Have a good night, sirs.”

Alex tugs at his hand as he begins to walk away. “Let’s go, Guerin.”

Michael follows along quickly, more than okay with Alex pulling him along by the hand. They get into the airport van that is waiting for them, and Michael realizes that the information he missed out while busy fantasizing about Alex, is that the airport is setting them up with rooms for the night to make up for the cancellation. They get to the hotel ten minutes later, and it only takes them that long because of the snow. The hotel isn’t anything special, but they’re quick to check them in, obviously ready for the influx of stranded passengers, and they get handed their room keys, both on the fifth floor.

He walks with Alex down a narrow hallway, stopping in front of room 515. Alex opens his door before turning back to him, shifting from foot to foot.

“I need a hot shower before I get yelled at by Rosa,” he says with a wry smile, and Michael realizes with a warm fluttering feeling in his chest that Alex is as nervous as him.

It makes him smile softly, and he’s pleased by the way Alex's shoulders seem to loosen. “Same,” he tells him. “Iz will probably have a lot to say.”

Alex chuckles softly before placing his hand on Michael’s chest, curling it around his coat and reeling him in. Michael steps into his space, meeting Alex halfway, kissing him back as he presses his lips against his in a soft, gentle touch. They take their time, neither deepening the kiss, just enjoying the press of their lips against each other. “Do you want to come back when you’re done getting yelled at?” Alex asks quietly against his mouth.

He pulls back to look at Alex, flushed skin, his dark eyes that glisten with hope and desire.

The answer to the question is obvious.

“Yes.”

 *

 After a shower and a lengthy conversation with Isobel that jumps back and forth between lecturing him for not leaving Massachusetts sooner and demanding details about Alex, Michael is finally back at Alex’s door. He runs his hand over his damp curls and takes a deep breath before he knocks, waiting as he hears Alex move around in his room.

The door opens to reveal a freshly showered Alex in nothing but a pair of grey sweats that ride low on his hips. Michael tries hard not to swallow his tongue.

He shoots him a smile with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Rosa, he mouths, stepping away to let Michael in.

Michael walks into the room, grateful that Alex is distracted, it gives him a moment to take Alex in. His back to him, he hears Alex give a vague uh-huh to his friend, followed by a yep. He runs his eyes over Alex, lingering on the smooth skin over lean muscle, the dip of his waist, and the pair of dimples on his lower back that leaves Michael’s mouth dry. He itches to step up to Alex and press himself against the length of his back.

He doesn’t hold back on the impulse and does just that, stepping up behind Alex, relishing the gasp he lets out as his hands clench his hips, he rubs his nose against the side of Alex’s neck, making a sound at the back of his throat as he takes in the smell of soap and underneath that, a scent so uniquely Alex, a little sweet, hot and addictive.

“Time to hang up, darlin’,” he whispers against his ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, grinning around it as Alex lets out a halting goodbye to Rosa, ignoring her protests. He spins around, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck.

“Menace,” he whispers, cutting Michael’s laugh short as he slams his mouth against his.

Michael groans, his hands tightening his hold on Alex, and he pulls him even closer, letting out another whining sound when Alex licks into his mouth. He runs his hands from Alex’s sides to his back, touching every piece of warm skin he can.

“Guerin,” Alex gasps for breath, his hands tugging at his shirt, and Michael lets go of Alex long enough to pull it over his head, dropping it on the floor. He stands still as Alex exhales a sharp breath, running his eyes over him in a way that feels like a touch. He wants more though, and when Alex’s hands hover hesitantly over his chest, he circles his wrists and gently presses them over his racing heart.

“You want this?” Alex asks, his hands caress his chest, a fingertip brushing against his hardened nipples, his body tightening at the sensation, and he swallows hard at the look Alex gives him in response.

“I have never wanted anything more,” he pauses, licking his lips nervously when Alex meets his eyes. “Then how much I have always wanted you,” he confesses, and it feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest when Alex gives him a gentle look that reflects the hope Michael knows is on his face.

Alex goes around him, and Michael turns around to watch Alex climb into the queen size bed. Laying back on a mess of pillows, he lifts his hand out to Michael.

“Come here,” he whispers, looking like all of Michael’s dreams come to life, and Michael doesn’t need to be told twice.

 *

 “Am I dreaming?” he whispers sometime later, his head on Alex’s chest, their legs intertwined under a sheet as they try to catch their breath. Their bodies are sweaty and sticky, but Michael doesn’t care, not when his body aches in the delightful way that only happens after a spectacular fuck.

Alex’s chest rumbles under his cheek as he laughs, his hand has been making a mess of his curls as he runs his fingers through them. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Michael grins into his skin, pressing a kiss into it, followed by a lick before he looks up at him. “Really?”

“Mmhmm,” Alex hums, wrapping his index finger around a curl, his nails scratch at Michael’s scalp softly, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from purring. “I used to daydream about your hair.”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s a lot more innocent than my daydreams; I’ll be real.”

Alex grins at him, tugging on a curl. “Well, I think you’ve proven by your earlier moves that you’re a dirty boy,” Alex jokes, and Michael throws him a smirk, proud as he remembers the way Alex gasped and begged when Michael rode him.

“I used to dream about it in Bio class,” Alex confesses. “You used to sit by the windows, and the light would hit your curls, making them glow. All I wanted was to sink my hands into them and play with them for hours.”

“That’s so sweet,” Michael teases to keep from melting on the spot, he’s already half in love with Alex, to know that Alex also thought of him back then, that he might feel some of what he’s feeling now, pretty much seals the deal on his feelings.

Alex gives a curl another tug, this one sharper, and Michael can't help the gasp that comes out. Alex stills his hand while Michael holds his breath.

"If we go another round, you're not going to sit comfortably on the plane in the morning," Alex warns him, heat flickering in Michael's belly from the promise in Alex's tone, and  Michael finds himself straddling Alex, feeling him harden under him.

"I couldn't care less," Michael says, grinding against Alex, a grin on his face when Alex lets out a curse and flips them over, his hand reaching for the small bottle of lube they used before.

"You asked for it,” Alex tells him. Michael would gloat about it, but as Alex touches him with wet fingers, pressing in, he finds himself without enough brain cells to be clever.

 *

 Michael isn’t sure if it’s that the airline is trying to keep them happy because of the canceled flight, or it’s just Alex’s smile that dazzles the flight attendant, leaving her powerless to his charm. But when they arrive at the airport for their morning flight, Alex asks if Michael can be bumped up to first class with him, and the flight attendant immediately upgrades him.

“That face of yours pretty much gets you whatever you want, doesn’t it?” he questions as they sit with their seat belts on, as the flight crew finishes going through their emergency procedures.

“I don’t know,” Alex says, turning his head to look at him. There is a sleepy look on his face, and Michael feels a sense of pride to think he wore him out. Their second round had turned into a third, and though Alex was right and he finds himself shifting in his seat to get comfortable, shooting Alex a look when he smirks, he can’t say he regrets it.  “Can I get anything I want from you?” he asks with a teasing look on his face.

“Probably,” he answers honestly.

Alex makes a sound, and Michael looks up at him, there is a look of surprise that turns soft. Alex takes his hand in his, running his thumb over the thin skin between his thumb and index finger. It makes Michael tremble.

“Sorry,” Alex murmurs, even as he doesn’t stop touching Michael. “Guitar calluses.”

“I don’t mind,” he answers, turning his hand palm side up so Alex can have more to touch.

“Do you still play?” Alex asks, studying his hand.

“Not as much as I would like,” Michael admits. Between work and classes, it doesn’t leave him much time. “When I do play, I think of you.”

Alex's hand stills over his, and he looks at Michael with big brown eyes that hold so much emotion. “You really mean that don’t you,” he whispers, leaning in closer, intertwining their fingers. “You still think about me.”

Michael breathes in, his heart pounding in his ears. A part of him worries that he’s coming on too strong. He’s had ten years to come to terms with the fact that he’s probably been half in love with Alex since he was a teenager. While Alex is just now realizing the torch Michael has been carrying. The other part of him though, the part that still can’t believe that he actually has Alex with him here and now. Can’t believe the night they just spent together isn’t a dream of his. That part is telling him that this is his second chance, and he needs to lay it all on the table if he’s going to have a shot at keeping Alex in his life this time around. “I always think about you, Alex.”

Shaking his head like he can’t believe it, Alex closes his eyes for a moment, but there is a smile on his face, and it gives Michal hope.

Opening his eyes, Alex looks at him in wonder, making Michael feel warm all over. “What do you think about?”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him with a smirk, laughing when Alex scoffs at him, though he sees a hint of a blush.

“Besides that, Guerin,” Alex rolls his eyes at him even as his mouth quirks upward.

He laughs softly, trailing off as Alex looks at him, waiting. “I think about your kindness,” he says quietly. “You gave me somewhere warm because I had nowhere to go. You gave me a guitar because you knew I liked to play, and you wanted to do something nice. You were kind to me for no reason.”

“I liked you,” Alex smiles sweetly, looking so much like the boy of years ago. “That was the reason.”

Michael squeezes his hand. "That was the first time someone gave me something that meant anything. I hated leaving it behind in the shed."

“You should have taken it,” Alex tells him with a soft smile. “I wanted you to have it; instead, it’s probably still in the shed collecting dust with all my other stuff. I know my dad had my brother Greg get rid of all my things inside the house, and instead, he put them in the shed. At least that’s what Greg told me the last time we spoke, but that was years ago, so maybe it’s all gone now.”

“You don’t talk to them, do you?” he questions, though given that Alex has never bothered to come back to Roswell, he probably knows the answer.

“My father is an abusive asshole who hates me for being gay,” Alex says matter of fact, there is no hurt in his voice like he came to terms with it a long time ago. “My older brothers follow his lead. Greg, who is two years older than me, is the only one who doesn’t care. He’s not supportive exactly, but he also doesn’t give a shit about me liking guys or the family drama. He went into the military like my other brothers, but it was to get away from everyone. We have that in common.”

Michael wants to put his arm around Alex; he wants to pull him closer and hold him until he eases the pain Alex carries from years of abuse and neglect. He hesitates for a moment, they’re on the plane, there are people around them, and maybe Alex doesn’t want his attention right now. After a moment, he decides what the hell. He pops off his seat belt, noticing that the light for it is off and moves to lift the armrest between them.

“What are you doing, Guerin?” Alex questions, frowning at him.

“I’m going to hug you,” he answers, ignoring the look Alex gives him.

“I’m fine,” Alex protests, while Michael shifts in his seat. “I’ve moved past the need for my father’s approval.”

“I know you’re fine, you’re great,” Michael assures him as he throws his arm around Alex’s shoulders and pulls him close. “You’re perfect, I just like touching you and don’t know if I’ll get to do this when we get to Roswell, so I’m taking advantage now.”

Alex scoffs halfheartedly, but indulges him anyway, and wraps his arms around Michael’s waist as he holds him. “You’re a lot more affectionate than I would have thought, but I like it,” he says, his words pressed against Michael’s jaw as he tilts his head. “And for the record, you can touch me all you want when we get to Roswell.”

Michael stills at the comment, and he tells his heart to calm the fuck down as it beats loudly. “Do you mean that?”

Alex, who has gotten as comfortable as you can on an airplane, first-class seats or not, lets out a hum as he uses Michael’s shoulder as a pillow. “Well,” he starts sleepily. “I guess this could just be a one night stand for you,” he pauses, and the hand at Michael’s waist gives him a soft squeeze. “But I’m going to take a leap of faith and say that’s not the case.”

“Leap away,” Michael says quickly, his pulse still racing.

Alex makes another noise like Michael has pleased and amused him with his quick response. He doesn’t say anything else and seems to be drifting off, but Michael can’t let the conversation go just yet.

“So just so I’m clear, this wasn’t a one night stand for you either, and it would be okay with you if I…” he trails off, not knowing how to continue.

He what? Touch Alex? Kiss Alex? Proclaim his undying love?

Alex huffs, and he lifts his head to look at him, he seems tired, but he leans in anyway and kisses him softly. He takes his time with it, only pulling back when they’re both breathless.

Michael exhales. “Yeah, that.”

Alex grins, his brown eyes dancing. “You sure you’re a genius, Guerin? Because you seem really slow on the uptake.”

Michael rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile that has taken over his face. “Go to sleep smartass. I obviously wore you out, and it’s made you crabby. I’ll wake you up when we land in Dallas.”

Alex looks like he wants to give another retort, but, in the end, seems to decide that sleep has more appeal and lays his head back on Michael’s shoulder, doing as Michael tells him.

 *

 They land in  Roswell after a short layover in Dallas; hand in hand, they make their way to luggage claim. Alex has been quiet since the wheels of the plane touched the ground.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently.

“I think so,” Alex wrinkles his nose at him, and it’s so damn cute Michael wants to lean in and kiss it. “It’s just weird being back; that’s all.”

Michael nods, he’s already asked him if he has plans to see his family, which made Alex laugh dryly before giving him an emphatic no.

“Is anyone picking you up?” Alex asks once they both have their bags and start to make their way towards the exit.

“Isobel, what about you?”

Alex’s mouth curves. “Rosa.”

Michael nods again, feeling a trickle of worry grow the closer they make it to the outside world. The last 24 hours have felt like a magical little bubble where only he and Alex exist. Michael can’t help but worry that the magic is going to disappear the moment it’s no longer just the two of them. He thinks some of his thoughts must play out on his face because Alex, who has been watching him, stops in his tracks and turns to him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, brushing away one of Michael’s curls away from his face, his brown eyes warm as he looks at him.

“Hi,” Michael whispers back, taking a breath as Alex places his hands on his waist and tugs him forward.

Alex smiles, leaning in to rest his forehead against his.

“Tell that busy brain of yours to calm down,” Alex whispers, and Michael tries not to make a big deal out of the fact that Alex seems to be able to read him like a book. He taps his index finger against Michael’s temple. “Okay? I can hear it from here.”

Michael breathes out slowly, earning himself another smile from Alex as he nods, his forehead still pressed against his. Alex doesn't let him go, seemingly comfortable with staying there in his arms as much as Michael, and it settles his nerves some more.

As far as he's concerned, they can stay like this forever.

Isobel, though, seems to have a different plan.

"Jesus Christ, did you two really make us wait until the last minute to get here, just to stare at each other in an airport?"

Michael turns his head to find his sister and Rosa Ortecho standing side by side, watching them with various degrees of judgment and amusement on their faces.

Alex lets him go, much to Michael's displeasure, and holds out his arms for Rosa, who breaks out into a grin as she jumps into his arms.

"Hey punk," she says into Alex's shoulder as she and Alex hold each other tightly.

"Hi love," Alex greets back with a breathtaking smile on his face.

Isobel slaps his arm, drawing back his attention to her. "I haven't seen you in months. Are you going to hug me, or are you too busy staring at Alex like in high school?" Isobel asks bluntly, drawing the attention of the two friends who are still hugging.

Rosa smirks in his direction, while Alex gives him a soft look, the tiniest bit amused.

Michael can feel himself blush. It's one thing to tell Alex in private that he had feelings for him back in high school. It's another to have Isobel air his dirty laundry like this.

He glares at her but softens when he sees the happy look on her face.

"Brat," he murmurs with affection pulling her into a tight hug.

"Loser," she mocks as she returns the embrace. "Come on, we have to get back to the house. I have pies to finish."

Michael hesitates when she tugs at his sleeve. She looks back at him and then over at Alex, rolling her eyes at both of them.

"Oh for God sakes Michael, you're going to see him later. Hi, by the way, Manes," she says, finally seeming to remember her manners.

Alex shakes his head, laughing. "Hey, Evans, you haven't changed a bit, I see."

Isobel raises an eyebrow at the comment, taking it for the challenge it is. "While you seem to have finally gotten over your unfortunate emo phase, good for you."

"Ooh, fashion burn," Alex smirks, a glint in his eye.

Isobel stares at him harder, glares at him, really, but Michael can see the hint of a smile on her face. Isobel has always appreciated a worthy opponent.

She turns back to him. "If you could, please stop acting like you're saying goodbye to your beloved before sending him off to war. Max is in charge of the kitchen, so we have to go before he burns it down."

"Give me a second to say goodbye."

Isobel rolls her eyes again, but lets go of his arm.

Michael turns back to Alex, who looks like he's trying very hard to keep from laughing. He grins back, having decided to irritate Isobel some more.

"I'll wait for you, my love," he says with a dramatic sigh.

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, taking a deep breath. "Though the future is full of peril, know that I'll think of you every moment we're apart."

Rosa chuckles just as Isobel lets out a disgruntled huff, glaring at both of them. "Great, he’s just as annoying as you, Michael.”

Alex smirks, obviously pleased.

“Perfect match,” Michael says quietly, not caring that Rosa shakes her head in laughter or that Isobel makes a gagging noise like the brat she is. Alex is giving him a soft smile, and that’s all that matters in the end. “See you later?”

Alex nods, his hand grips the front of Michael’s shirt, tugging him forward for a soft kiss. “Go have dinner with your friends. We can do something for Christmas day, just the two of us, okay?”

Michael nods, pressing his mouth against Alex’s once more. “Okay.”

 *

 Michael wakes up Christmas day to voices outside his bedroom at Max’s, sighing when he sees that it’s only eight a.m. and his siblings are already up, even though they were awake past midnight.

Grabbing his phone, he checks his messages and smiles when he sees that Alex left him a text around one a.m. saying Merry Christmas. Pocketing his phone, he makes his way towards the living room where Isobel is sitting with a cup of coffee in hand while making Max hold up a series of shirts against his body.

“What’s going on?” he asks, leaning down to kiss the top of Isobel’s head, stealing her cup in the process.

She gives him a dirty look but lets him get away with it, nodding towards a frantic Max.

“Liz dropped the baby bomb on her dad last night and text Max this morning that Arturo wants him over at the diner for breakfast and a discussion. So now he’s trying to find a shirt that says, ‘I’m sorry I knocked up your daughter out of wedlock; please don’t shoot me,” she finished explaining with a frankly evil smile on her face at their brother’s predicament.

“Max,” he says sharply, drawing his attention when it looks like he’s going to start freaking out even more than he already is. “Arturo is not going to shoot you.”

Max lets out a relieved breath while Isobel pouts at him for ruining her fun, which he answers with a wink.

“The man is a cook,” he continues, not bothering to fight the grin on his face. “He’ll poison you before he shoots you,” he finishes, smirking as Isobel lets out a loud laugh, and Max gives him an annoyed look.

“Comforting and helpful as always, Michael, thank you,” Max bitches at him, while Isobel continues to laugh.

Michael tips his head in Max’s direction, chuckling when Max walks away, mumbling under his breath about horrible siblings.

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out, to see a message, smiling when he sees it’s from Alex.

“Good morning. Liz told Arturo about the baby, and there’s a very awkward breakfast about to happen that  I don’t want to be here for. Want to meet up? I’ll bring coffee and donuts.”

He lets out an amused sound, shooting back a quick yes. Alex answers back just as quickly with an address and a heart emoji.

“Alex?” Isobel asks, startling him. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

He looks up to find her studying him. “How did you know?” he questions, getting an eye-roll in return.

“Because you’re smiling like an idiot,” she answers dryly, a smirk on her face when he glares at her. “It’s the same face you used to make when you would stare at him in high school.”

“Stop,” Michael whines, knowing where this is already going because he’s heard Isobel give Max the same lecture about Liz.

Isobel raises her hands in peace. “I’m happy that you’re happy,” she starts, and he can hear the but in her voice. “I’m happy that you’re reconnecting with him and getting the chance you missed in high school.”

“But?” he says for her, wanting to get to the point.

“But,” Isobel emphasizes, narrowing her eyes at him. “You and Max are more alike than either of you would like, and you have been carrying a torch for this guy forever, just like Max with Liz. There’s the big alien elephant in the room, and you have to be careful if you want to pursue something serious with Alex.”

Michael remains quiet for a moment knowing that she has a point. He learned how to control his powers a long time ago, and he’s never been serious about anyone to feel the need to share his secret with them. If there’s anyone on this planet that he would think about sharing it with, it would be Alex Manes, and that’s something he has to take into consideration.

“At least I can’t knock him up as Max did with Liz,” he answers jokingly, feeling a chill go down his spine when Isobel gives him a downright evil-looking smile.

“So you think.”

 *

 Michael arrives at the address Alex gave him, realizing as he pulls up that it’s Alex’s childhood home, given what he knows about Alex’s family, he’s more than a little confused. But Alex is there, leaning against a car with a coffee in his hand, so he parks and gets out, crossing the street to join him.

“I can’t believe you still have your truck,” Alex comments as he closes the distance between them, passing him a coffee cup. “Donut?”

Michael shakes his head. “I’ll take something else that sweet though,” he says, pressing his tongue to the corner of his mouth, as Alex rolls his eyes.

“Smooth,” Alex says sarcastically, even as he leans in to kiss him.

“It worked,” Michael says, a smug grin on his face, kissing him once more before pulling back. “What are we doing here? I would think this is the last place you would visit,” he points at the house, as he downs half his coffee in one go.

“No one is here,” Alex tells him. “From what I understand, none of my brothers came home for the holidays, and when my dad heard I would be in town, he decided to stay on the base.”

“Okay,” Michael says slowly, drinking down the last bit of his coffee. “Still doesn’t explain why we’re here.”

Alex smiles, taking his now empty cup and putting it into a paper bag, throwing it back in his car. He takes Michael’s hand and starts to walk towards the house, or well, the back of it. Michael starts to get an idea where this is going as he sees the old shed come into view.

“We’re going to find your guitar,” Alex says as he pulls out a set of keys, opening an old lock that doesn’t seem like it has opened in years.

“Alex,” Michael says softly, touched by the gesture. Yet another thing he’s been sorry about all this time. Leaving that guitar behind.

“I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it,” Alex says, turning to face him. “Because I wanted to give you something that mattered to you. I want you to have it back.”

Michael looks at him and knows he’s falling in love. He realizes now that all this time, his regret and the feeling of missed opportunity with Alex has really been him being in love with him this whole time, and now, less than three days of having Alex back in his life, he’s falling in love all over again.

Isobel is right; he and Max are more alike than he thought.

Alex pushes the wooden door open, and they find that the shed is much more crowded than before.

Alex has a grim smile on his face as he looks around at all his stuff, and Michael hurts for him. It must be horrible to know that the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally is perfectly fine with getting rid or hiding everything you are away because they can’t accept you as you are.

He steps up behind Alex and wraps his arms around him, pressing his face into his neck. He can feel Alex’s tense body start to loosen the longer he holds him. Finally, after another minute or two, Alex lets out a breath, turning around in his arms to face him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Michael’s.

Michael doesn’t say anything right away, he runs his hands up and down Alex’s back, only stopping when Alex pulls back, his expression more at peace.

“You know since we’re here,” he starts, grinning when Alex raises an eyebrow at his tone. His heart racing as he continues. “And this is the place of my greatest regret. Maybe we can recreate the moment so I can correct it.

Alex stares at him, the corners of his mouth lifting, and he leans in again, stopping halfway, his eyes sparkling with laughter and something else as he waits Michael out.

Michael exhales right before he covers Alex’s mouth with his. He’s already kissed Alex so many times, felt his body against his as they made love.

But being back in this place where it all started. It feels like what he thinks that first kiss would have felt like if he hadn’t turned his face. He pours all the feelings he had back then, all the feelings he’s had for the last ten years, and all the feelings he has now into the kiss, and hopes Alex understands how serious he is about them and just how much he wants this.

He’s so lost in the feel and taste of Alex, in this feeling that is bursting inside him, he doesn’t notice anything else and finds himself jumping when the door to the shed slams open.

Alex jerks back and Michael feels him freeze as he looks over his shoulder, his face paling at who he finds there.

Michael knows who it is without even turning but finds himself flinching when Alex speaks with fear in his voice.

“Dad…” Alex says quietly, stepping around Michael.

Michael turns around, and seeing the Master Sergeant’s face, he gets why Alex is standing protectively in front of him. The anger and disgust on the man’s face are like nothing he’s ever seen, even in all the years he spent in the foster care system, and he can admit that it sends a trickle of fear down his spine.

“How dare you,” Jesse Manes seethes, eyes full of fury locked on Alex.

Michael sees the hate there; it makes his stomach turn to think Alex grew up with this. “How dare you disrespect me with your perverted behavior-“

Alex sighs loudly, standing taller. “Here we go with your usual bullshit. This isn’t about you. We came for my guitar and then we’ll be out of your hair. Away with our perverted behavior,” Alex says mockingly, and Michael realizes too late it’s the wrong tone to take.

Faster than he thinks possible, Jesse crosses the room, his hand tight around Alex’s neck, slamming him into a beam in the middle of the shed. It’s obvious that Alex is caught off guard as much as him, his eyes wide as he tries futilely to push his father off him.

“You think you can talk to me like that!” Jesse shouts, his face red with rage. “You run away from home, from your obligations to this family, to live your disgusting lifestyle and then think you can come back and mouth off to me. I’ll teach you who is still in charge here.”

Jesse’s threat snaps him out of his shock, and he steps forward, trying to pull Jesse off Alex. Only for the man to shove him hard before going back to choke Alex, who is still trying to pull his father’s hand off his throat.

He hasn’t lost control in years, but Michael doesn’t think about it. All he sees is this monster who is hurting the person he loves, and in the next instant, Jesse is flying, slamming hard against a wall of the shed before slumping forward, knocked out from the impact.

Alex gasps for breath, hands on his knees as he coughs, his eyes wide as he stares at his motionless father. Michael is also breathing hard, a little lightheaded from the burst of energy he just used.

Still staring at his dad, Alex whispers. “Did you do that?”

Michael can feel his heart racing; it’s been so long since he’s felt this kind of fear.

“Michael?” Alex asks softly now, looking at him, and Michael feels like he could start crying because Alex doesn’t seem afraid of him. Shocked by the events of the last 10 minutes and a little apprehensive, but not scared.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Alex might not be scared, but Michael is terrified.

“How?” Alex asks with wonderment.

Michael runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Look, I know you have a lot of questions, and I swear I’ll answer them. But right now, we need to deal with your dad.”

Alex looks like he wants to argue but finally nods. “What do we do?”

Michael sighs, he knows who he has to call, and he hates that he has to involve her. Turning to Alex, he pulls out his phone. “I need you to trust me, Alex.”

“I do,” Alex says instantly, not realizing the relief his words give Michael.

Michael closes the space between them, slowly reaching for him, waiting for Alex to step back if he needs to, letting out the breath he’s been holding when he touches Alex, and he doesn’t flinch away. “Thank you.”

 *

 To say that Isobel is furious when she arrives is an understatement, she has a glint in her eye that tells him she’s seriously considering making his brain explode as the three of them stand in Jesse Manes’ bedroom, the man still unconscious on the bed after he and Alex got him into the house.

“I am going to kill you,” Isobel hisses, ignoring the worried look Alex sends her way.

“I know,” he answers, knowing there is a real possibility his sister might make good on her threat. “But right now, I need you to go into this asshole’s mind and make him forget everything that happened in the shed.”

“And what exactly did happened in the shed?” she questions, still furious.

“Michael and I were kissing,” Alex starts, not flinching when Isobel turns her glare onto him. “My dad came in; he attacked me and probably would have killed me since he rather have a dead son than a gay one. Michael saved me, using his powers.”

Isobel turns back to Michael, eyes flashing. “You told him.”

Michael opens his mouth, but Alex beats him to the punch again.

“Not yet,” he says, his tone clear that a conversation will be had. “But my dad did go flying across the room. So I’m guessing Michael can move things with his mind?” Alex finishes looking at him to confirm, a pleased smile on his face when Michael nods.

“You’re taking this very calmly,” Isobel says suspiciously, eyes narrowed as she studies Alex.

Alex lets out a laugh that sounds a little on the hysterical side. “I’m freaking the fuck out. Michael can move things with his mind. You apparently can make people forget things? And my father tried to choke me out, but…”

“But?” Isobel asks a little calmer, her expression softening as Alex mentions his father’s actions again.

“Michael would never hurt me,” Alex answers her with conviction, and if it weren’t for the very serious mess they have to clean up, he would pull Alex in his arms and kiss him.

“Great,” Isobel murmurs. “Like it wasn’t enough to deal with one brother’s epic romance, I now have to deal with two. Fine. Alex, does your father drink?”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, he’s a functioning alcoholic.”

“Lovely,” she says, staring down at the man with disgust. “You find a bottle of something strong. I’m going to make him believe that he came home and went on a bender. He won’t remember anything about the shed.”

Alex hesitates for a moment before leaving the room. Michael watches him go before turning to his sister.

“I’m not happy with this,” she starts.

Michael nods. “I know.”

“And Max is going to lose his shit,” she continues and he nods again.

She studies him in that way that always makes him think she’s reading his mind.

“But he has no leg to stand on,” she says after a moment. “He told Liz our secret too, and I like her, but I like Alex a little more.”

Michael can’t help but smile at that.

She looks at him, and there is a soft understanding look on her face. “I would have done the same if I loved someone as much as you love him.”

Michael swallows audibly, grateful for his sister; she smiles before turning back to Jesse with a calculating look.

“Now, to deal with this piece of shit and make sure he never puts a hand on Alex again.”

 *

 Max loses his shit and then some. Michael sits on his brother’s couch with Isobel, who is still nursing a headache from all the power she used, acetone bottle in her hand, and Liz, who has a hand on his shoulder, frowning at her boyfriend as he paces.

“How could you let this happen, Michael?” Max asks for the third time since he and Isobel got back.

Alex, much to Michael’s displeasure, had stayed behind to make sure there was no trace left of them. Michael only agreed to go since he needed to get a weak Isobel back home.

He opens his mouth to argue with Max, but it’s Liz who has slowly looked more and more irritated who jumps in.

“What exactly did you want Michael to do, Max?” she questions, her brown eyes narrowed, and Michael watches as Max looks back at her nervously. “Just stand back and let Alex’s father attack him?”

“Liz,” Max tries helplessly in the face of his girl’s anger.

“I, for one, am grateful Michael stepped in,” Liz continues, ignoring his pleading tone. “He saved Alex, who I might remind you since you seem to have forgotten, is one of my best friends.”

Michael catches Isobel’s eye, spotting a tiny smirk, as Max tries to appease an angry pregnant girlfriend.

“Liz, of course I’m happy Alex is okay,” Max tries, sighing loudly when he’s met with blank expressions from all three of them. “But now, Alex knows our secret, and we have to decide as a group what we are going to do about it.”

“You mean like when you told Liz our secret,” Isobel interrupts, shooting Liz an apologetic look that Liz waves away, she knows this argument already. “We didn’t decide that as a group, you just told her.”

“That’s different!” Max argues. “I’ve loved Liz since high school.”

Michael rolls his eyes at his brother’s cluelessness, noticing he’s not the only one, as Isobel and Liz do the same. It makes Michael blush to realize that his future sister-in-law might have been aware of his feelings all along.

“Him too,” Liz says, confirming his suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” Max asks, confused, looking over at him, making Michael sigh yet again.

“She means that you’re not the only one that’s been pining away for ten years,” Michael tells him, shooting the women in the room a glance when they look at him proud and a little amused at his confession, but he continues. “I’ve been in love with Alex since high school. So before you even suggest it, no, we’re not wiping his memory.”

Max stares at him; after a moment, his already wide eyes get bigger as he looks past him.

Michael turns in his seat to see what has drawn his attention, understanding the look on Max’s face when he takes in Alex standing by the doorway.

“Hi,” he says hesitantly as all four of them look at him, he seems to shake off his nervousness after a moment and gives them an unimpressed look. “You should really close your front door if you’re going to talk about your magic powers.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment before Isobel starts laughing. “I like you Manes, you know how to make an entrance, and I can appreciate that,” she says toasting him with her bottle of acetone before taking a drink that has Alex raising an eyebrow.

Liz gets up from the couch and crosses the room to her friend, pulling him into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he hears her asking Alex.

Alex nods, his focus on Michael as Liz checks him over, her hands touching his neck where there are some faint marks.

“I’m fine,” he tells the room. “I’ll be even better after Michael and I have that conversation he promised,” he finishes looking at him expectantly.

Michael stands up.

“Michael, I don’t think-” Max tries, quieting down when Liz and Isobel send him a quelling look.

“It’s not up to you, Max,” Michael tells his brother softly but firmly. Max looks at him, at Alex, and then finally at the two women in the room before letting out a sigh, nodding in acceptance.

“Okay, Michael.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, he turns to Alex, walking over to him as he watches him steadily. Liz squeezes Alex’s arm in solidarity before stepping away from them.

Standing in front of him, he holds out his hand, letting out a breath when Alex doesn’t hesitate to hold it. “Let’s go for a ride.”

 *

 They don’t speak as they drive to the desert, and Michael admires Alex’s restraint. If it were him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back. It’s only when Michael has parked his truck outside the entrance of the caves that Alex finally speaks.

“I heard you tell Max that you’re not erasing my memory,” he says easily, like talking about mind control is as normal as commenting on the weather. “So, I don’t think you brought me out to the desert to get rid of me either, but let me just say this is shady as fuck.”

Michael can’t help the soft laugh that passes his lips as he takes in the quirk of Alex’s mouth as he jokes, even though he catches the hesitation in Alex’s voice.

“You heard us, huh,” he says, getting a nod from Alex.

“Among other things,” Alex says meaningfully, and Michael swallows, remembering what he said about being in love with Alex.

“I meant that,” he says quietly, watching as Alex takes in a sharp breath.

“Michael,” he breathes, but Michael holds up a hand to stop him.

“Before we get to that, I promised an explanation,” he says, opening the door. Alex follows suit and gets out of the truck too.

“And I think the easiest way to do that is to show you,” he says, pointing at the caves. “If you trust me.”

Alex answers his question by slipping his hand in his, and Michael thinks there isn’t going to be a moment where he doesn’t keep falling in love with him.

Hand in hand, Michael guides him inside the cave; he knows the moment Alex spots the pods by the gasp he lets out. His hand slips from Michael’s as he takes a step forward. Michael stays behind, letting Alex step up close to them.

“We came down in the 1947 crash,” Michael starts, pointing at the pods as Alex looks back at him, his mouth dropping. “We stayed in these pods, in stasis until 1997 when we came out. Seven years old and no idea how we got here.”

Alex continues to look at him. “The three of you were found naked on the road,” he says like he remembers the story told throughout the years.

Michael nods, confirming his words. “We were put into a group home, none of us spoke, but after a few weeks Isobel and Max learned, and soon the Evans came and adopted them. I stayed behind.”

Alex gives him a pained look but stays quiet, letting him continue.

“I bounced around from foster home to foster home until I was brought back to Roswell when I was 11, reuniting with my brother and sister.”

Alex lets out a sound. “They’re your siblings?”

“Yeah,” Michael swallows around the lump of hurt he always carries from not being able to tell people that.

“And you’re,” Alex pauses, looking back at the pods in awe. “Aliens?”

Michael looks at him, the man he loves, who isn’t running away screaming yet. “Yes.”

Alex looks back at him, his head tilted to the side as he considers him. Finally, like Michael hasn’t just told him the craziest thing anyone has ever heard, he simply nods. “Okay.”

Michael knows the look on his face is incredulous because it can’t be that easy. There is no way it’s this simple. “Okay? That’s all you have to say? You don’t have questions?” he asks, his voice getting higher and maybe even a little hysterical.

Alex bites down on his lip, and Michael gets the distinct impression that he’s trying not to laugh at him.

“I have a million questions that we’ll get to later if you answer the most important one,” Alex starts, walking back towards him until he’s right in front of Michael, so close that their bodies touch.

“And what’s that?” Michael asks, gazing into Alex’s brown eyes, lost in their depth.

“Have you really loved me all this time?” Alex asks, his voice small and low like he can’t speak the words out loud.

Michael raises his hand, cupping Alex's jaw, his thumb going over Alex’s cheekbone, and he watches as Alex leans into the touch like he’s starved for it. Michael promises himself that if Alex lets him, he’s going to touch and love him every day. “I thought it was a crush, a missed opportunity that I couldn’t let go. But being with you, having you back in my life these last few days have shown me that I have been fooling myself.”

Alex grips his hips, pulling him in closer, and with eyes opened, presses his forehead against Michael’s.

“I love you, I’ve always loved you,” Michael whispers, his heart catching when he hears the laugh-sob Alex lets out before he kisses him. The kiss is salty from their tears, but it’s okay because Michael can feel Alex’s smile against his lips.

 One year later

 “I can’t believe you assholes are doing this again,” Isobel complains over the phone. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You two should be here by now.”

Michael rolls his eyes, Isobel has said the same thing three times now. He feels the top of his body shake, and he looks down at the man on top of him as he laughs silently.

Alex looks up from where he’s resting his head on Michael’s chest and grins at him, with eyes full of laughter. Michael narrows his eyes at him. He doesn’t understand why he should be the only one getting yelled at when it’s just as much Alex’s fault.

“I told you to turn off your phone like I did,” Alex says softly, smirking as he hears Isobel rant some more through the speaker about how they are going to miss Christmas and how hard she’s worked to make it special since it’s the baby’s first.

“Michael, are you even listening to me, or are you staring at your boyfriend?”

“No to the first, yes to the second,” he answers, biting down on his lip when Isobel screeches over the phone.

Alex rolls his eyes, holding out his hand for Michael to pass him the phone, which Michael gladly does, pouting when Alex presses the speaker button. So much for letting him out of the conversation.

“Isobel,” Alex starts. “They’ve cleared the snow, and we already got news from the airline that our flight is in a couple of hours, we’ll be in Roswell by tonight, which I would like to remind you is the 23rd.”

“If you hadn’t stopped in Denver again, you’d be here already,” Isobel states, not ready to give up the argument.

“We wanted to celebrate our first anniversary in the place we reconnected,” Michael argues, closing his eyes when Alex runs his hand down his side to calm him down.

Isobel makes a disgruntled noise over the phone. “I’m disgusted by your love,” she says, annoyed. “Aren’t you over the honeymoon phase already? You’ve been living together for almost ten months now since Alex moved to Boston to live with you. You’re so annoying.”

Michael opens his mouth, but Alex presses his hand against it, shaking his head at him as a wicked smile takes over his face.

“How’s the Wild Pony, Isobel?” Alex asks unexpectedly, his smile growing when Isobel makes a startled sound.

“How should I know?” Isobel shoots back quickly, and Michael raises an eyebrow at that. Alex just continues to smile like the cat that ate the canary.

“A little bird told me, you’ve been hanging around those parts,” Alex continues, every word full of innuendo. “In the bar and the apartment above.”

Michael's eyes widen as he realizes what Alex is alluding to.

“Holy shit! You and DeLuca, Iz?”

Alex's grin is so wide, Michael thinks his cheeks must hurt.

Isobel is quiet only for a moment. “I will melt your brain, Manes,” she hisses into the phone, and proving that his superpower is to be unafraid of Isobel, Alex laughs easily. “I will melt it into goo.”

“Sure you will,” Alex answers mockingly, and Michael shakes his head at the recklessness. But this is the way Alex and Isobel have been since he and Alex started dating. He’s pretty sure they’re nemesis and each other’s best friends. “Listen, I have your brother naked in the hotel room we first got together in, and three hours until we have to get to the airport. So I’m going to hang up now, and have my wicked way with his delicious body,” he finishes, chuckling as Isobel lets out a disgusted sound.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Alex says, still laughing, but the sincerity is evident, and it calms Isobel down.

“Jerk,” she mutters after a moment. “Fine, text me when you're in Dallas to make sure your flight is on time.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, what you had shipped got here yesterday.”

Alex smiles. “Perfect, thanks Isobel. See you in a couple of hours,” he says, hanging up the phone.

“What did you have shipped?” Michael questions, his hands going to Alex’s hips as he throws a leg over Michael’s waist.

“Your Christmas present,” Alex answers him, leaning down for a kiss.

Michael hums into it. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Alex shakes his head, his lips a hair-breath away from Michael’s. “Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

Alex gets a look on his face that promises a good time. “Tell you what, you have until we have to get to the airport to get it out of me.”

Michael feels his body respond to the challenge and knows Alex feels it against his thigh by the smirk on his face.

Rolling them over, he gets to work, smothering Alex’s laughter that later turns to moans with his kisses.

He doesn’t get it out of him, but he has fun trying.

A day later, when they’re with their family, he holds Alex’s present in his hand. A beautiful guitar, so similar to the one Alex tried to give him years ago. When Alex leans in halfway, his eyes full of love, Michael doesn’t miss his moment, and this time presses his lips against his.

[smylealong]

Year in review - 2020

2020 has been a mixed bag of an year. Where on one hand it has been a raging dumpster fire with a global pandemic, lockdowns, social distancing, online schools, politics, forest fires, Karens and the general sense of ennui that the year brought. On the other hand, the year gave us all time. Time to reflect on ourselves. Time to teach ourselves new things. Time to binge watch. And boy did the streaming platforms make full use of it. Listed below are the best things I saw in 2020. (Across languages and in no specific order.) IT IS A LONG POST. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

HINDI Thappad: Dir: Anubhav Sinha. Starring: Tapasee Pannu, Pavail Gulati, Diya Mirza, Kumud Mishra and Ratna Pathak Shah. On surface level, the premise seems frivolous. After all, it was just a slap. Just. One. Slap. Yet, with that one slap, the protagonist’s neatly organized world comes apart at the seams. From there begins Amruta’s (Tapsee Pannu) journey into exploring the micro-aggressions and tiny slights that she has turned a blind eye to, for the sake of keeping peace. The film never veers into a glorification of violence nor does it get overly preachy. It is a mirror to the patriarchal society and raises pertinent questions about the things that the society as normalized. Things that shouldn’t be normalized.

Bulbbul: Dir: Anvita Dutt. Starring: Tripti Dimri, Avinash Tiwari, Rahul Bose, Parambrata Chatterjee and Paoli Dam.

Horror does not always lie in the things that go bump at night. Sometimes, horror is what society expects of you. Horror is the consequence of not fitting into the role that has been written for you. Sometimes, it is terrifying to be a woman in a male-dominated society. That is what Bulbbul explores. Wrapped in a beautiful package, Bulbbul tells the raw story of a child-bride who is punished, harshly, inhumanly, for acting her age. If you haven’t seen it yet, drop everything and watch it. It’s on Netflix.

Lootcase: Dir: Rajesh Krishnan. Starring: Kunal Khemu, Rasika Duggal, Vijay Raaz, Gajraj Rao.

This was a charming little movie that had me in splits. A story of a simple man who chances upon a bag full of money. What follows is a hilarious tale of lies, deception and comedy of errors. Kunal Khemu proves that Bollywood does not realize just how talented he is. Vijay Raaz’s deadpan comedy and Gajraj Rao’s evil smiling desperation are a delight to behold. I’m smiling even as I am writing this. This was fun!

Raat Akeli Hai: Dir: Honey Tehran. Starring: Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Radhika Apte, Ila Arun, Shweta Tripathi, Tigmanshu Dhulia.

This was India’s answer to Knives Out. Nawazuddin Siddiqui is at his finest as the honest and frustrated (in more ways than one) police officer who finds himself attracted to the mistress of the murdered man. What follows is a tale so full of twists and turns that I could not predict where it is going. When you have Siddiqui at the helm, you are almost certain to get a good film. But when he is backed by stellar performance from the able cast, that takes the film to another level altogether.

Patal Lok: Dir: Avinash Arun and Prosit Roy. Starring: Jaideep Alhawat, Niraj Kabi, Abhishek Bannerjee, Swastika Mukherjee, Gul Panang, Ishvaak Singh.

Wow. Just. Wow. This is arguably the BEST thing that I have seen all year. On the surface this is an attempted murder case. But what it actually is, is a mirror to our society. It is a human story. A story of greed, corruption, power, violence, misogyny, depravity and true evil. It is a story of love, hope, support, kindness and humanity. It is a story of us. My hats off to the entire cast and crew for coming up with something truly special.

ENGLISH

Haunting of Bly Manor: Created by: Mike Flannagan. Starring: Victoria Pedretti, Oliver Jackson-Cohen, Amelia Eve, T’Nia Miller, Rahul Kohli.

Based on Henry Jame’s Turn of the Screw, this was a poignant tale of love, loss and pain. While it pales in comparison to its brilliant predecessor, Haunting of the Hill House, and the 1961 screen adaptation of the novel, The Innocents, Bly Manor still manages to be a worthy watch. In Mike Flannagan’s deft hands, we get to see a completely different perspective of the Haunting. I won’t say more, for spoilers, but this was definitely one of the better things I watched this year. Especially since I almost eschewed English movies/series this year. (I did watch some forgettable movies like Extraction and Mulan, but even mentioning them here feels sacrilegious.)

Korean

This year, I returned to Korean Dramas after a long time. My last Korean Drama before this year was Faith that I saw in 2014. Since Boys Over Flowers (Read Kim Bum) is my guilty pleasure watch, I decided to have it on in the background sometime in March or April this year. (Honestly, in 2020, who knows?). BOF took me to The King: Eternal Monarch. And TKEM introduced me to Woo Do Hwan who gave me some of the best times in this year. Three of his dramas feature here.

Save Me:- Dir: Kim Sung-soo. Starring: Ok Taec-yeon, Seo Yea-ji, Woo Do Hwan, Jo Sung-ha, Jo Jae-yoon.

Do you fancy a kick to your teeth? Because that is what this series is. What starts a simple story of a regular family’s struggles upon moving to a new town, quickly turns into a harrowing nightmare in which you are simply the viewer. The story delves into cults and the insidious power they hold. Through Seo Yea-ji’s brilliant performance as Im Sang-mi, we see a K drama heroine who is not a damsel in distress. She isn’t the one throwing the punches, that is done by Ok Taec-yeon and Woo Do Hwan. Still she is the one that leads the fight. If that wasn’t enough, Woo Do Hwan, plays Seok Dong-chul. Arguably one of the best male leads I have seen.

Mad Dog:- Dir: Hwang Ui-kyung Starring: Yoo Ji-tae, Woo Do Hwan, Jo Jae-joon, Ryu Hwa-young, Kim Hye-sung.

What a treat this show is! Smart protagonists pitted against equally intelligent antagonists and a taut plot that rarely sags (It does sag just a wee bit in the middle but it picks up pace very quickly). Woo Do Hwan is fantastic as the ever changing, tough to pin down, Kim Min Joon. The layers in this character! This show will keep you guessing. Every cast member is stellar and no one has a single misstep. A must watch!

My Country: Dir: Kim Jin-won Starring:  Yang Se Jong, Woo Do Hwan, Kim Seol-hyun, Jang Hyuk.

This series brings a set of very complex emotions in me. Don’t get me wrong. I love the series. Its story, characterization, costumes, cinematography, acting, action scenes, OST. They are top notch. A+. But... and this is a big one, this series is also a glaring display of what happens when a writer falls in love with one of their characters. As a writer, I can say that we love all our characters. But it is very dangerous for a writer to move from simply loving the character to falling in love with the character. When that happens, the writer becomes afraid of letting that particular character make mistakes. Or glosses over their flaws. Often at the expense of the other character. Which is what happened here. The writer fell in love with Seo Hwi and Nam Seon ho paid the price. Hwi could literally assassinate people in front of Hui Jae and still be forgiven for it, while Nam Seon-ho gets demonized for trying to save Hwi by telling lies. I could go on and on about how unfair this series was to Seon-ho, but that would be a separate post altogether.

Tale of a Gumiho: Dir: Kang Shin-hyo Starring: Lee Dong Wook, Jo Bo-ah, Kim Bum.

I started this series for Kim Bum (I LOVE THE GUY). I was prepared for some cheesy, goofy fun with some good looking people. But soon, I was watching it for the story. A smart Urban Fantasy with elements of Korean Mythology, this was UF done right! This series made me do research. I am so tired of seeing the same old myths in fantasy that this came as a breath of fresh air. Intelligent protagonists who communicate well (gasp! what? That happens?). A flip-flopping anti-hero. A truly psychopathic villain and a bunch of other well-fleshed characters make for one entertaining watch. I highly recommend it.

Chinese:

K-dramas made me revive the Tumblr account that I had created sometime in 2017 and which lay dormant since then. Soon, my Tumblr feed was filled with gifs and metas of a show with pretty men. I did not pay much attention to it, till a post about Jin Ling’s Uncle made me snort. Even though I didn’t understand what it was talking about, it was still funny. Realizing that the show is on Netflix, I saw the trailer and wasn’t impressed. Then there was the length. 50 episodes! Holee-moleee. “No. I ain’t got that much time,” I said and moved on. But then, I saw a gif of a man smiling. I had never seen a smile that dazzling. There was something about that smile that made me go back and click on the first episode. And in less than ten minutes of the episode, they killed the man whose smile drew me to the show. WTF? But I had seen gifs of him. There had to be more. Then, the show began and I had no idea what was happening. I decided no smile could be worth the brain-cells I am having to expend for this. Chuck it. But people in Tumblr said, hold on. You will understand it. Episode 2, and I still wasn’t sold. I gave it till episode 5. Then, before I knew it, I finished the 50 episodes and currently reside in the rabbit hole that is The Untamed.

Dir: Zheng Weiwen and Chen Jialin Starring: Xiao Zhan, Wang Yibo, and a host of others. I can’t write the name of the entire cast, even though I want to.

PS: In case you don’t know, the man with the pretty smile is Xiao Zhan.

[creative-robot]

This is my request for more work stories!

Oh absolutely! 

For a little clarification, I’m a Host in the Restaurant part but the big main part of the building is the attached bakery/retail area up front so theres like, 5 different kitchens alone, I’ll refer to them by how I know them which is the Mixing kitchen, the Restaurant kitchen, and the other three that do baking stuff as the Baking Kitchens

This is in no special order at all just the order I remembered them

As a Host you would think I’d be on par with the servers but the truth is If the Manager isn't right there I'm pretty much in charge of the restaurant and do my best with what I have, which means I have to move. fast.

I just learned earlier this week that the entire packaging department can't remember my name so they just call me ‘The Speed Demon’ and honestly how dope is that I get complimented/shocked reactions to my speed every shift I don't know man I'm just gay and have shit to do

We once had a really confused drunk dude come in on Saint Patricks Day who seemed completely baffled by the idea of a restaurant so since it was hella dead and I was bored as all hell I entertained his drunk questions for like 45 minutes explaining how a restaurant works and what we make till he said bye and wandered out looking mildly bewildered still

We also had a drunk dude come in on a random dead Saturday (which was weird and I think it was while the GOT finale was airing, we have no TVs so I was. dying. from boredom), this was not a fun drunk and we had to call the cops on him for being creepy and after he was kicked out he walked around the parking lot and kept jumping to himself before circling the building a few times and leaving once the cop showed up. Cleaning the bathroom was disgusting after he left lemme tell ya

The dish manager and the kitchen manager are ALWAYS at odds with each other no matter who the dish manager is that month (Staff rotates real quick back there) and there's always shittalk being thrown across the hallway between them and occasionally a bottle, I once scolded both of them to stop acting like children cause a bottle smashed and it was loud and close enough to make my hearing go out for like three minutes and when they both just brushed me off I went straight to the owner and now it's pretty rare for glass, at least, to get thrown

Theres a stairway that leads to the upstairs offices and everyone just knows that they're either cursed or haunted, we don't talk about it but only the managers go up there and I've only been up them once and it was incredibly gut-churning so I haven't ever tried again

Life tip: Always be nice to your HR folks, they can help you

One of the baking kitchens kept stealing everyone else brooms and one day a server had just had ENOUGH and stormed back there to tell them what for. I didn't get to see what happened but I'm told the poor dudes back there were pale by the time she was done and now we have a cool new broom and dustpan that's labeled for the Restaurant and no more broom thefts for a while

Kids just like my aura or something cause everytime there's a kid in the restaurant they flag me down to chat a little and sometimes kids walk past an entire bakery of employees to ask me for help instead of them, I always pause to help them before adults or give them a little time to chat even when we’re busy and all the servers goodnaturedly tease me about it

What happens in the break room stays in the break room and anything said after someones clocked out won't be repeated, it's hilarious to watch the bakers calmly walk in, clock out, scan for someone in management, and then explode with frustration to whoever's in there. please be nice to cake bakers and decorators specifically they have to put up with SO MUCH SHIT BEHIND THE SCENES

Sometimes there’ll be free stuff in the Break Room ala extras, unsolds, or fucked up treats that are fine but they don't look sellable. This is rare for the front of house restaurant staff to get their hands on since we don't get lunch or proper breaks so retail always relays when there's goodies and we’re all enemies for a good five minutes as we grab stuff and shove it in our lockers before returning to normal but everyone goes feral for the breakfast sandwiches 

I’m unofficially Head Host so I know most of the regulars and they know not to pull shit on me and several of them take enjoyment watching me deflect non-regulars bs and often butt in when they won't give up to tell them to shove it since I just won't break or give in

The retail folks regularly use their lunch breaks to go scream in the big freezers and this is just expected and accepted

The Bakers also regularly go scream in the oven rooms, this is also just A Thing no one questions  

Theres only a little waiting room area between me and the bar so yes, I have been hit with wine corks before when they go flying and the newest bartender is already at three hits but honestly, I don't really care so whenever it happens I just say a random number of points and toss the cork in my trash

Someday I hope to catch it all cool and suave and that's prolly not gonna happen anytime soon but god I want to SO BAD

I once had a woman walk in with an entire soccer team and I had to be like ‘Lady we don't even have enough tables for all of you normally much less right at noon are you nuts’ and she refused to believe me or sit outside so when I quoted her an hour and a half she was PISSED and asked for my manager (who had been hiding behind the bar cause good lord do we get Karens a lot) who came over and explained that there was no way we could seat them and to have a good day and she went RED and stormed out with the team trailing behind her looking embarrassed. She attempted this three more times that week I'm not even joking 

White haired old ladies are constantly amazed and curious about us young’uns styles and while the servers get most of the enthusiastic questions about their gauges and tattoos and hairstyles I have had a few ask me what was even happening with my hair bc they loved it but ‘it's so different!’ (I have an all around undercut with only hair on top that goes down to my chin so I braid it up for work, it's baffling I guess lol) they genuinely love hearing about it and I’ve given a few of them tips for their kid's hair and style names, I just love it and had to mention it

Some of this is just me rambling lol but yeah my work is wack

[hiraeth-doux]

haunted

written for WonderTrev Love Week 2019

day 5 - hurt/comfort

summary: Steve takes care of Diana after her final battle with Cheetah. Set in the WW84 universe.  

read on AO3 

----

Diana stares into a pair of amber eyes and tries to find familiarity in them.

For a flicker of a moment, there is a flash of recognition, and hope flares in her chest.

Barbara Ann.

But then the face in front of her contorts into a grimace, the lips stretch, baring two rows of sharp teeth and a low growl forms in the back of Cheetah’s throat. Her muscles tense, her body is poised for an attack.

“What arrrrre you looking at, Princessssss?” she hisses venomously. “Came to sssssee what you’ve done?”

Diana’s heart thuds once, twice, three times against her rib cage. Her hand curls around the hilt of her sword but, for once, the feeling is more disconcerting than comforting.

There is no forgiveness and no redemption in the eyes of someone who she used to think of as a friend.

When the sharp claws slice through Diana’s skin, it doesn’t hurt as much as the sorrow that blossoms in her chest, so overwhelming it threatens to swallow her whole.

---

Diana takes a breath. And then another one. And then another, until it stops requiring conscious effort on her part, natural instinct taking over.

The water is hot against her body, burning her skin and making the nicks and cuts sting as the steam fills the space around her. She presses her palm flat against the cool tiles and bows her head, watching the water swirl at her feet, circling around the drain before it pours down the pipe, going to a place Diana can’t envision. Something to focus on, she thinks absently, for not having this would force her to think about what had gone down between her and Cheetah several hours ago. And she is not ready to deal with that yet.

“…what you’ve done?”

Barbara Ann’s words surge through her mind.

Diana squeezes her eyes shut but it only makes everything worse, the image of her friend-turned-foe too bright and too vividly-clear in her head.

She does not want to remember Barbara Ann like this; with vicious hunger in her eyes and blood on the corners of her mouth, her remorse dormant or lost forever, overcome by the beast within.

Diana’s chest constricts, the world swaying around her.

“Too late, Prrrrincessss.”

She snaps her eyes open and inhales as the makings of a sob rise in her throat, struggling to find her equilibrium again, her fingers flexing on the tiled wall. How long will it be till she can close her eyes without staring at the face of someone who no longer sees her for who she is?

She stays in the shower until she can’t bear the heat anymore, scrubbing her body over and over again. Until her skin starts to feel raw and tender, and the bitter truth of her failure to save someone dear to her has taken root in her chest, refusing to leave.

She used to think that her defeats had started and stopped with Steve.

Foolish—

With a shaking hand, Diana turns off the water. She steps out of the shower, the soft towel rough against her body, rubbing over the three gashes running across her left shoulder blade. She ignores the discomfort of it. Her palm sweeps over the condensation coating the mirror before her, revealing a face she can barely recognize.

Barbara Ann had been wrong – the decision she had made was hers, and hers alone. But she had been right, too. Diana was her friend, she should have known to stop what had happened. It is not her doing, but the guilt and remorse are there nonetheless, eating her up on the inside. When she promised to protect those who needed her, she never imagined how hard it would be to keep it.

She chooses not to think of the cruel irony of being able to defy gods yet having to watch the people dearest to her slip right through her fingers, powerless to stop it more often than not.

In the mirror, she sees another blurred shadow appear behind her.

Steve.

For a few moments, he hovers in the doorway, and she wonders what it is that he is seeing, desperate to have a glimpse of herself through his eyes.

He moves to her then.

“Let me have a look,” he says quietly, brushing Diana’s damp hair to the side to reveal the cuts that pulse with dull pain every time she moves, with every breath she takes.

She doesn’t stop him.

His touch is gentle, his fingers cool, the familiarity of it makes the tightness in her chest unravel. She’s been hurt before. Had the breath knocked out of her and her skin slashed, her muscles burning against the blows she has deflected, her bones straining against those that she hadn’t. Such is the fate of a warrior, and it no longer comes with a shock. Not the physical part of it, at least.

“It will be gone before morning,” Diana says, turning her head slightly to the side.

Steve runs his knuckles up and down her arm. “I know,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. She chooses not to hear the slight tremor in his voice. “Looks bad anyway. Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Liar,” he hums.

The corners of Diana’s mouth lift a little, a hint of a smile working its way to her face.

She doesn’t correct him.

Doesn’t resist when he steers her towards the bedroom, either. Doesn’t stop him when he produces their medical kit seemingly out of nowhere while nudging her towards the bed. She’s got to take care of him more times than she can count, treating his cuts and bruises, and she recognizes his need to return the favour. To be there for her when he can’t help her stop what has already happened, not anymore. She understands it all too well.

The sting of antiseptic burns her skin, making Diana go still, her breath catching in her throat. Somehow, the aftermath is always worse than the battle.

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs, his hand pulling away and the next moment she can feel him blow softly on one of the cuts, the burning sensation of the sharp-smelling liquid ebbing.

Another moment, and his lips graze her bare shoulder – a feather-light touch to comfort her as much as to reassure himself that she is alright. Diana feels the warmth of his breath on her skin, his hesitation nearly palpable, and her heart squeezes fiercely, her hand curling into a fist against the need to turn around and soothe him back.

He goes on with his task. His touch is careful, and it’s the gentleness of it that makes her eyes sting more than the burn of the alcohol against the injured flesh.

Her heart gives a hollow thud against her breastbone.

“I really am fine,” she whispers.

“That may be so,” Steve concedes easily, “but you are not getting into bed until we bandage this all up. Not if you are going to bleed all over the place.”

Diana glances at him over her shoulder. “Your concern is touching,” she notes dryly.

He looks up and the smile that he offers her is tired but genuine. One of those that she loves best. 

“Hey, those are expensive sheets,” he points out, and Diana can’t help but laugh a little.

She can’t argue with that. Can’t argue with the need to make this about something nonsensical, either. It is not about the attack or the blood or the throbbing ache that seems to have found a home in the periphery of her attention, and she just wants it to go away.

He is worried about her even though she is near damn indestructible. So what does that say about how she feels when she watches him run into a fight?

Diana pushes the thought away and lets him have this moment. She doesn’t need him to do this, and Steve is well aware of that. But earlier tonight, when he had first seen the bruises on her skin and the cuts painted across her back, when he had taken her shield from her hand and helped Diana peel her armour off, the power balance between them had shifted. She had seen it in his eyes – the same panic that rears its ugly head inside of her each time he gets hurt.

She can take care of herself, they both know that, but right now, she needs him to go through all those motions as much as he does. She doesn’t think either of them will heal properly if she stops him.

She feels his fingers at the base of her neck, moving her hair out of the way. Feels the alcohol-drenched piece of cotton leave trails on her skin. Had it not been so painful, she’d find the process relaxing, Diana thinks absently. Her pulse stutters for a moment, and then settles into a familiar pattern.

Steve is her home, and the steady assuredness of it is enough to soothe her mind.

“I’ve seen the news,” he speaks after a while, and Diana can’t help but tense up. “Want to…” he clears his throat as if the words he is trying to say don’t want to come out. “What happened?”

“I lost,” Diana says simply.

She doesn’t know how to explain to him that even though she has brought Barbara Ann back, the real Barbara Ann, leaving Cheetah behind, something between them has snapped, destroyed forever. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, not yet.

She knows he won’t press for more than she is willing to share. This is what she loves about Steve, among other things – he doesn’t insist on trying to see the things the way she does. He accepts that sometimes it is not possible, and for that, Diana is grateful.

There is a rustling of plastic packaging behind her, and she turns her head enough to see him pull a gauze pad out of a packet.

Steve looks up, catching her looking. He pauses, and she tries to ignore the turmoil in his eyes that he hasn’t had time to hide.

“Good thing I have a lot of experience with this stuff,” he tells her a little too cheerfully, waving the gauze before her and making a face. “In the army… if you can’t patch up one another, you’re all as good as dead. At least you smell better than some of the guys I’ve had to deal with.”

He wrinkles his nose for good measure.

Diana knows it shouldn’t be funny, but she can’t bite back her smile nonetheless.

“I’m in good hands then,” she says, shaking her head a little.

The gauze affixed in place, Diana rolls her shoulder gingerly. The tugging pain is there but it is less present now, and she wonders how soon it will be before her skin is smooth again, any trace of the fight erased. A few hours, perhaps.

She unwraps the towel and leaves it on the edge of the bed as she reaches for one of Steve’s shirts – it’s loose and less likely to cause any discomfort than her own sleepwear. Not that she needs that excuse – she loves the touch of soft, worn cotton and the way his shirts all smell very faintly of him. If he minds her wearing them, he has never said anything, and tonight, it’s all she needs.

Steve helps her put it on – Diana can’t lift her left arm without a jolt of pain shooting across her back, and without dislodging her bandage, too. He pulls it over her head and then brushes her hair from her face with a small laugh. She turns her head, leaning into his touch and kisses the heel of his hand, watching the amusement fade, replaced by something raw. When he crowds her space, his eyes searching hers, she is grateful for his proximity.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers.

“Now you know how I feel a lot of the time,” she breathes. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, quietly, and she knows that he means it. 

Diana’s palm curls over his jaw.

“I love you,” she murmurs so softly, the sound of it all but a whoosh of breath.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and then steps back and tugs at her hand. She follows without hesitation. He pulls at the covers and she climbs into bed, settling into him, half sprawled over his chest so as not to disturb her wounds. He doesn’t seem to mind, and neither does Diana as she curls one arm around him.

He runs his hand up and down her back. “Sorry,” he murmurs when she stiffens as he grazes a little too close to the bandage.

“I’m alright,” she says quietly, feeling him relax beneath her.

For a few minutes, she is worried that sleep is going to be a problem – she is exhausted but her mind is wired and overwhelmed, leaving her filled with jittery energy. But the seconds tick by and Diana feels herself relax, lulled by the warmth of Steve’s body and his steady heartbeat thumping against her own chest. He is threading his fingers idly through her hair, and the small sleepy noises he makes pull her deeper still. Until there is no Cheetah and no Barbara Ann, and all is right in the world, for once.

Steve presses a kiss to the crown of her head, and it’s the last thing Diana is aware of before she falls asleep.

---

She wakes up a few hours later with a scream lodged in her throat and her muscles tense, ready to deflect an attack. The night is moonless and the room is nearly pitch-black, and for a long horrifying moment, she is disoriented and confused, and nothing makes sense.

“Diana?”

She gulps a hungry breath, and then another one, her heart beating so fast she feels dizzy. The distorted images of a dream that is already starting to fade away flash through her mind. Sharp teeth and hot breath and the smell of blood and that sensation of moving like she was underwater that only dreams can summon filling her with desperation beyond anything she’s ever known. She can feel those claws on her skin, except this time they don’t stop at one slash. This time they slice through her over and over again—

“Hey.”

A hand touches her face, and Diana forces herself to focus.

Steve.

Even in the dark, his eyes are worried and she feels instantly ashamed, wishing to comfort him, but not knowing how to do it.

“I’m… I need—” she starts, pulling away from him.

The shirt she is wearing is damp with sweat when she slips out of bed, looking away from him, unable to hold his gaze. The cool air of the room makes her shiver as she pads out of the bedroom, the floor cold against the soles of her feet. She pushes her hand through her hair and forces herself to slow down her breathing.

The bandage rustles beneath her shirt when she moves, tugging at her skin, but the dull throbbing she has felt earlier is not there, and Diana knows that if she removes it, there won’t be anything underneath it. Not anymore. The last traces of the past two days erased without a single mark. She should be relieved by that, but try as she might, she can’t seem to find it in her.

In the kitchen, she paces between the table and the sink, desperate to shake off the grip of the nightmare that seems to have planted itself in her brain. She pauses before the cupboard and reaches for one of the glasses, but stops when she notices that her hands are shaking.

“Diana.”

She looks up, and Steve is standing in the doorway leading to the living room, blinking sleepily at her. His hair is mussed and he is stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, and the sight of it – so familiar and dear to her heart – all but undoes her. Her throat grows hot, and she has to swallow past the lump in her throat, not trusting herself to speak, unshed tears burning her eyes.

He crosses the kitchen without a word and gathers her to him. She expects the touch to feel invasive, the way it had a few minutes ago when she’d woken up, but her body welcomes it with a will of its own, her arms coming to rest around him, seeking the solid steadiness of his embrace.

“I get them too,” he whispers when she tucks her face into the hollow of his neck, breathing him in. “Nightmares. After the war, you can’t not remember…”

“She is my friend, Steve,” Diana murmurs, her voice tight and on the verge of breaking. “She was…” she corrects herself and trails off. “I failed her.”

He strokes her back, and she squeezes her eyes shut, unable to stand the tenderness of it when the rest of her feels like an exposed nerve. 

“You didn’t.” Steve’s lips graze over her temple before he rests his cheek against the side of her head. “You can protect them but you can’t save them from the choices they make.”

Those are words that Diana has said to him once, a long time ago when he had asked her if she felt as strongly about saving mankind as she had when they first met. She hates how true they ring now, and even more – how little she can do to change it. It felt like little consolation when she had first lost him. It shouldn’t surprise her, perhaps, that it hasn’t changed since then, but she yearns for reassurance anyway.

The thought makes her hold on him tighten lest he slip right out of her grasp.

They stay like this for a long time – until Diana’s heartbeat is no longer wild and out of control. Until she can breathe without feeling the tight coil in her chest and her mind grows foggy. There hasn’t been a moment since they’ve met when Diana hasn’t been grateful for whatever it was that had brought them together. But she wonders now, with her cheek pressed to his shoulder and a fistful of his shirt bunched in her hand, if she has ever loved him more than she does at this moment.

He has called her his saviour more times than she can remember, she thinks absently as he leads her back to bed. But does he know that he has saved her too? That he keeps saving her every day that she has him?

---

In the bright light of the harsh morning sun, Diana’s skin looks smooth when she peels the bandage off. She stares at the spot in the mirror for a long time, not sure how she feels about it.

When she was young, she used to be envious of the scars and marks crisscrossing the bodies of her sisters – badges of honour, each telling a story that shouldn’t be forgotten. She couldn’t wait to grow up and have her own, not knowing yet that her divinity would rob her of just that.

She wishes she could keep the marks left on her by Cheetah as a reminder of the loss of a friend who she knows will never be found again.

“You will want to forget,” Steve tells her softly, running his fingers over the spot he’d had to tend to only hours ago, but his touch doesn’t linger. “One day, you will want to be able to put it behind.”

Diana known he speaks of his own scars, and she doesn’t object, each of them trapped with their own demons.

But when her memory brings up amber eyes and a vicious scowl, she is not sure if it is something she ever wants to not remember.

[randomimaginesideas]

The Bridge

The bridge (Klaus x Reader)

Trigger warnings: mention of suicide attempt,  Death, sad, drugs, murder.

Summary; Klaus meets up with the reader during the events of the umbrella academy.

Request (Open); No, just something I just wanted to write.

“See you next time Klaus.” The man behind the counter almost didn’t have time to say goodbye before Klaus was out of the door. Klaus threw on his black fur coat and made his way inside the city. Ben was walking beside him, till he saw in which way Klaus was heading. ‘Really? You’re just out of rehab.’ He noted when they were close to arrival.

Klaus just held up his hand, looking around when a big grin spread across his face when he spotted you. You were on the edge of the bridge, looking of the river. It was one of the cooler days in March so you were wearing a black hoodie. Your (H/C) hang in front of your face, while you were looking down.  

His pace picked up. “(Y/N)! No time, no see.” Klaus placed his hand on the railing and sat down next to you. ‘How have you been?’ He said leaning close to you. ‘I heard about your father, my condolences.’ You avoided the question, but Klaus noticed. ‘Thank you, but I’m just hoping the old man won’t haunt me, otherwise I will go crazy.’ Klaus said, dragging out the word crazy.

You let out a soft laugh. Bingo. ‘So I’m sorry I missed our date last time.’ Klaus said with a huff. ‘Yeah, what happened? Got somebody else?’ You joked and stuck your hair behind your ear. ‘Why are you jealous?’ A light blush came on your cheeks. ‘Of course, If I lose you I will lose all my clients.’ You said, bumping his shoulder lightly. Then your hand went inside your jacket. ‘Speaking of...’ Your voice trailed off and from inside your jacket, you pulled out a little plastic bag. ‘As promised.’ You said and Klaus snatched the little package out of your head, popping some of the pills in his mouth.

‘So business isn’t going so well?’ Klaus asked, looking at you. You just shook your head. Klaus let out a sign. ‘That’s sucks, from who else am I going to get my stuff then?’ Klaus said and you let out a laugh. ‘You could always buy from my brother, or… you could just stop.’ You said jokingly, and Klaus laughed.

Klaus had found you two years ago, sitting on this exact same spot. He was high and drunk and felt like making a conversation. He figured out that you were debating jumping off the bridge. You lived with your brother, who was also a drug addict, like Klaus. Your parents died in a car accident. While your brother was passed out, you would steal most part of his drugs, and throw them into the water, hoping that your brother would sober up. It didn’t.

Klaus had convinced you to sell the drugs to him. He was a stranger, and you wouldn't know if it ruined his life or not. What they both didn’t know was that they would form a great friendship, and even something bigger, although those last feelings were still not answered. Klaus had also convinced you that, since you gave him his daily dose of drugs, you had a purpose and had to stay with him. Though you did come back to the bridge every day, the thoughts of jumping had faded to the background. There were bad days, the days where everything went wrong and all she wanted to do was lay in bed, under the covers and not see a single soul, and there were good days. Days when she woke up early, made breakfast for her brother, and walked around the city, taking pictures of strange and peculiar things she saw and later showed them to Klaus.

It was a couple days later when Klaus met up with you at the bridge again. Your hoodie was up, covering your face. The dark clouds showed that it was going to rain any second, making the bridge empty except for you. ‘Let’s hurry this up (Y/N)! Then we can always go for a cup of coffee or a bottle of whiskey.’ Klaus said waving his arm.

‘Was that you asking me out Klaus?’ He heard your voice say, your hoodie still not showing your face. Klaus was silent for a moment, and then he let out a giggle. ‘I suppose it is.’ Klaus laughed and he saw Ben standing on the other side of you. ‘Klaus?’ He asked but Klaus ignored him. He didn’t have time for Ben today.

‘How cruel of Him to do this just now.’ You mumbled, your hands squeezed together. ‘What are you talking about (Y/N)?’ Klaus asked, taking a step closer and then placing a hand on your shoulder.

Or at least that’s what he intended to do, but his hands past right through you. ‘(Y-Y/N)?’ Klaus asked worriedly. ‘He woke up, while I was trying to steal the drugs. I didn’t know, I still don’t know how he got himself a gun, b-but,-’ You head went up and you turned around to Klaus.

‘No, (Y/N).’ His voice broke. In the middle of your forehead was a big gaping wound. ‘Klaus, I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful.’ Tears started falling over your cheeks, as at the same time the rain started. Only know Klaus saw how you stayed dry while he became soaking wet. The tears in his eyes. No words were able to come out his mouth, only a broken sob came out. He took a step closer, wanting to grab your hands but again he passed right through them. The only thought in his head, this is not fair.

‘I’m so sorry Klaus.’ You let out again.

This wasn’t fair!

Taglist;

@klausbutgayer (I saw your post asking to be tagged in all Klaus, Diego, Five imagines so here you go)

[imnovampire]

Exfill Chapter 39

Helloo. TheColdEastWind here. It has been long and very long so let me just first say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and leave it at that. Now on a serious note, in this next chapter our story will be dealing with Sarin. It is a nerve gas, and absolutely horrendous. I don't go into any detail about its effects or what it can do, I just want to warn anyone who may feel uncomfortable with my usage of it. Also there is mention of drug overdose, please heed all trigger warnings.

"Hello J."

"Hello Mercy."

"With the information that you got from Trevor, I was able to find out where our asset is currently located and roughly who put him there. It would seem that his captors are holding three civilian scientists along with Sherlock at the same location."

"Brilliant work." John cut in and felt a surge of adrenaline, finally! "Send me the coordinates the extra bodies shouldn't be a problem..."

"J, there's more. We were wrong. It's not nuclear. It's chemical. Sarin."

"No." John doubled over with his hands on his knees and he thought he would vomit. "Please no." Sarin was one of the most volatile nerve agents to date because if it's ability change from a liquid to gas, it was odorless, colorless, and tasteless. John had seen what this shit could do it was gruesome and it made is blood run cold to think of Sherlock anywhere near it let alone the one making it, especially in the state that John believed him to be in. A death from Sarin was ugly, and anyone who even contemplated using it was reserved a very special place in hell.

"Get me there now." John's voice faltered.

"Copy that."

John stood on the tarmac looking down at the MacBook on the hood of his Land Rover trying desperately to focus on the plans in front of him. The Chinook was behind him ready for take off and so was he. So where the fuck was Moran? Had his fickle boss decided he wasn't allowed out to play after all? Fuck if John was going wait around for them to get their psycho shit together. Just fuckin fine. Alone it was then. And if he died trying to save the man he loved then so be it. Sherlock was worth a million deaths. Wait then that would leave Sherlock...still a captive. Fuck! Where was Moran?

A slick black Porsche Panamera, came screaming down the airfield, it stopped with a skeet of the glossy black tires mere inches away from Johns bumper. A black clad Sebastian climbed out of the back followed by his boss, Moran turned and boxed him in with one arm resting on the door and the other on top of the car, Jim allowed Sebastian to kiss him deeply, while he kept his hands tucked neatly in his own pockets seemingly immune. Moran broke free and nipped Jim's lips once twice more, and the effects of the kiss were clear in Jim's flush cheeks and red lips. John had wondered if the pair were truly in love or simply drawn together by their shared psychosis, watching them now it seemed like a bit of both. Love and madness, the two were never far from one another.

John shut is laptop shoved it in his go bag and boarded the Chinook. Moran slipped on his headset and strapped in across the cabin from John.

"You sure he's ok...with this?" John made a gesture signifying the plane.

"This." Moran gestured between the two of them. John shot him the finger. "Is just fine with Jim. We have a beautiful new protege at home who's dying to impress Jim, and I think Jim is rather dying to be impressed. To tell the truth I think they couldn't wait till I left."

"And you're alright with that?"

"Once you get rid of your moral blinders you may just be pleasantly surprised at what you're alright with."

"Doubtful. Take a look at your laptop, it's the layout of the black site. What do you see?"

"It looks more like a lab then a facility capable of nuclear fusion."

"Spot on. In fairness I have to tell you, we're not dealing with uranium. The facility is indeed a lab, but not a nuclear one, a chemical one. There are four scientists total Sherlock among them, their making...Sarin."

Sebastian was still his gazed haunted with unwanted knowledge.

"Moran, if you're not up for this..."

"Have you seen what it dose? What it can do?"

"I have." John was solum. "Look this is a lot to ask..."

"What's the plan? How are we going in?"

"We're not. Not at first anyway. I figured I've got you, elite sniper, I may as well use you. You on the outside, me on the inside. Take out as many as you can and I'll clean up as I go. Once I've cleared the inside you come in and assist with the extraction."

"Brilliant."

~~~

Volgograd, Russia

The breach went off without a hitch. Moran did his part flawlessly taking out five armed men in lass then ten seconds, John doned is balaclava and went to work under cover of total darkness having had Mercy go dark, John gave the order to restore the power and Moran took up position behind him surrounded by the dead John had left in the dark.

Sebastian looked around and whistled. "That's some impressive shit Watson."

"Coming from the man who just dropped five men from a hundred yearns out in the dark in less then ten seconds, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Eight seconds. I'm going for a record."

"I just bet you are."

John gave the signal for silence as they stepped into a brightly lit hallway of hermetically sealed labs passing them at the other end of the hall they descended a set of metal stairs into a sub basement with six cell doors on either side. The smell on this level was instantly terrifying for John, it was the smell of death. John made the signal for Moran to go right, and he took the left. They checked the door seals for any visible traps finding none they kicked the doors in and cleared the first two rooms. John's first door he found a man small and diminutive laying in the fetal position on the floor, John felt for a pulse, the man was alive. Good enough. Time to move on. The next cell was empty just like the two that Moran had cleared on the opposite side. John had extracted more hostages then he could remember and breached more rooms as team leader then anyone else on Methos, but in this frozen moment his heart paused and his breath held still in his lungs dreading each step forward and anticipating them in equal measures. Deep breath. John cleared the next door and had to fight down the heave that rose to his throat. His heart bust back to life like a jack hammer as he inspected what was left of the body for identifying dark curls, he found none, this poor soul had clearly been used as a test subject. John paused for a second wondering if maybe they had been exposed to the chemical, but dismissed it just as quickly. They would be dead already. The next cell was empty too, just as all of Moran's had been, the next held more horrors, this man had been executed. It was all John could do to hold his composer and stay upright on wobbly legs. Last door. Empty.

"Over here!"

John made for the cell. Oh god, please god please please please please...

It was him. He was on the floor in an incredibly small ball. There was no movement. No sound. Still silence. John moved on auto pilot, pushing up his balaclava and pulling off his tactical gloves with his teeth ready to do what he'd done thousands of times, check for a pulse, the soft flutter of life flowing just beneath the surface. Please...

"John!" John was brought out of his mind by Moran's voice and he realized his hand just hovered, not touching not moving not finding out if Sherlock were alive or dead. Fuck. He reached into the balled up mass to rest two fingers in the hollow of Sherlock's throat. Ice cold, and drenched in sweat. John thanked God. He thanked the old Gods, he thanked all the Gods, he thanked any Gods! He didn’t know or care who was listening or what the price. His soul had been expendable from the second he and Sherlock had locked eyes.

"We need to go." John pulled his balaclava back down ready to move. As if on que Mercy called.

"J, There is a convoy headed your way, ETA ten minutes max."

"Moving now. With two civilians in tow."

"Make it quick."

"Copy that."

"I'll get the assets, you lay ground cover." Moran hefted Sherlock up on to his shoulder. John gave a curt nod knowing that it was the right call even if it didn't sit well with him. They made for the first cell, there Moran grabbed the small man and practically drug him by the coller up the steps. They ran to the waiting Chinook in the clearing with John at the ready to lay down cover fire.

Once aboard Moran laied Sherlock in the seats next to John like the precious package he knew him to be. Sherlock's head rested in John's lap curls plastered to his scalp with sweat, his skin pasty and gray, his eyes hollow dark and death like. John just stared down at him, relieved. Sherlock reached a hand up in a clumsy attempt to push back John's balaclava and failed. John was more then happy to pull if off for him.

"It's you." His voice was low and horse yet carried a note of calm. "John. It's always you." Sherlock smiled and faded out. John breathed a sigh relief. Moran got his attention from across the way. John put on his headset.

"Courtesy of my boss." Sebastian winked and pointed to the window.

John looked out in time to see the explosions of the convoy below. Love and madness.

~~~

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

Unstoppable(Part 2)

@marvelfanlife​, @dontshootmespence, @literallyprentissstwin, @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars, @bitchinprentiss, @derekmorgansoffice, @ultrarebelheart, @itsmeedee​, @acespence​, @thebutterflyxx, @cynbx, @jaqren​, @imagicana, @isabelzimmer997​, @captainreid

Part 1

  Matt tried his best to ignore it but the threats kept haunting him. Each day, wherever he goes, he feels as if someone was watching him. Even a slight sound could startle him whether it’s at the park, the mall, even at work. Sometimes, he would even find a suspicious envelope at the front of his house. Whoever this person is was clever, and this was nothing to ignore. Still, despite the threats, one would wonder why he has yet to tell anyone. Of course the kids were too young to understand and he couldn’t bear to see his wife Kristy be filled with worry. Overall, he didn’t want to burden his family with something that has nothing to do with them.

 As for the team? Well, that is a different story. He and the team have worked on several cases similar to his situation. Would they be able to help him? Could they help identify the caller and if possible would Garcia be able to locate the person so that they could find him and put him away for good? He wonders what he could say to any of his teammates, only to stop as he sees Luke approach him by his desk. “Matt?” “Yeah Luke?” “Are you okay?” “Y-yeah, I’m okay, why do you ask?” “Well, you look like you got something on your mind. Is there something you wanna talk about?” He shook his head. “Not really. I just had a long night, video games with the boys.”

“You sure about that? Cause I-” “I’m fine Luke, I really am.”

“Oh okay, well if you need anything, just let me know, I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks.” He then look as he sees his friend walk away. Once he was out of sight, he rubs his forehead in frustration. Why push his closest friend Luke away? Who knows, maybe he could help him, if only he knew how serious the threats were.

Meanwhile, Luke was in the break room grabbing a cup of coffee as Penelope and JJ were munching on some cookies. Still worried about Matt, he tries to talk to the girls, hoping if they notice anything odd about him.

“Hey you guys.” “Yes Luke?” JJ asked. “What’s wrong?” “It’s about Matt.” “And what about him?”

“I don’t know but did any of guys notice something off about him?”

She and Penelope raised an eyebrow before turning to Luke. “Not really, why? What’s wrong with him?” “I don’t, I think he-” He suddenly stops as Emily arrives.

“Hey Emily.” “Hey JJ, Luke, Garcia, what are you guys talking about?” Luke was reluctant in answering, in which JJ decides to respond instead. “Luke thinks that there’s something wrong with Matt.” Emily turns to Luke. “And, what is it?”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I think there’s something going on and he’s not telling me what it was.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that he’s hiding something from us?” “I mean, earlier I ask him if he was okay and he said yes, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t. I don’t know what it is but I know that there is something going on in his life and whatever it is, I just wanna help him.”

“I see, well, do you want me to ask him? Cause I ca-” “Em no, I appreciate the offer, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” “Well, why not? You said that there might be something going on in his life and that maybe you wanna he-” “I know, but I don’t want him to make it seem as if I tattle-tale on you.” “Oh come on Luke, you sa-” “Em.” JJ patted her on the hand. “I know you also seemed concerned for Matt. We all do, but Luke does have a point. And even if he is hiding something from us, I think forcing him into telling us what’s wrong may not seem to be a good idea. It’ll only make him push us away even more. Right now, let’s just give him some space.” Emily reluctantly agrees as they look on to see Matt sitting by his desk. If only they knew what was going on, maybe they could help him.

Later that day, Matt was heading to his car only to see Luke behind him. “Jeez Luke, you scared me Luke.” “Sorry about that.” “It’s fine. So....about earlier I-”

“Don't bother, I should’ve just kept my space.” “I understand. I know you were just trying to be a good friend.”

“Yeah. Though as usual, if you need anything, just let me know.” “Thanks.” He pats his shoulder before walking away, just as he was about to leave, Luke stops him.

“Matt wait!” He turns. “Yeah?” “Don’t forget about bowling night, this Sunday.” “Alright, I won’t.” “Okay, take care.” “You too.” He then turns as he approaches his car. By the time he got there, he noticed a small note sticking out by the windshield wiper. He then looks around to see if anyone was watching him. Seeing nothing usual other than Luke driving off, he gets into his car and looks at the note. Before, something like this would startle him but after a few days and a few envelopes, this was normal. He opens the note and reads it before tossing it to the side. Just then, he suddenly heard his phone rang. He looks up to see that it was the same caller. He then answered the phone. “Hello?” “You sound pretty tense, a long day at work?”

”Why the hell do you care?”

”Hey, I just wanna check up on you, besides we could all use a rest-” “Look, I don’t have time for this. What is something that I have that you possibly want?” “You, just you filled with nothing but fear, cause that’s what you are, a coward.”

He scoffs. “A coward, yeah right. I have a P226R with me right now. What’s gonna stop me from having to use it? Cause I won’t hesitate-”

“Your friends.” Matt’s eyes widen as the caller brings up his friends. “W-what about my friends?” “You know, your fellow BAU friends: Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, SSA David Rossi, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Tara Lewis and Luke Alvez. I know how much you value your family, but I also know that you value your friends as much as them.”

“Go anywhere near my friends or I will end you.”

“Oh Matt, don’t you realize that of course your friends are gonna get involve as well. Haven’t I not mention that to you?” “No, you did not?” “Well, they do now. So if I were you, I’d be careful, cause the lives of your friends and family are on your hands. Any wrong move or misstep and their blood is on your hands and it’ll be only a matter of time till it’s just you.”

 The thought of his family and friends dying cause of him terrifies him. He struggles to maintain his composure as he didn’t want the caller to intimidate him. “Why are you doing this to me?” “Because of you, I lost everything, now I plan to do the same with you.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t.”  

“Actually, I would.” He then hangs up as Matt puts his phone away. Once he arrives home, he noticed another package in front the door. Knowing where’s it from, he picks it up.  After looking at the box, he walks around in frustration as he tries to figure out what to do. It was bad enough that his family was threatened but his friends? He couldn’t bear to think of something bad happen to his friends all because of what was suppose to be just between him and the unknown caller. Just then, he hears Kristy’s footsteps approach the room as he hides the box underneath the bed before she enters the room.“Hey.” “Hey.” As usual, she was unaware of what just happened. “Just got back from work?” “Yeah. Where are the kids?” “Asleep, is everything okay?” “Everything’s fine, I just had a long day.” “Is that your excuse for everything?”

He chuckles. “No.” He then wraps his arms around her as they pull each other to a kiss. “Oh Kristy, do you ever know how much I love you?”

“All the time.” There was a sense of sadness in his eyes knowing how much he loves his wife. Unknown to her, he could not stop thinking about the caller, whom he fears that he has a plan on what to do with her and the kids. Still, not wanting to scare her, he hugs her, not wanting to let go. If only this fear wasn’t consuming him.  

 Hours later while everyone is asleep, Matt stayed up as he gathers all the notes and gifts received by the caller. Knowing that asking his friends for help was not an option, he realized that finding whoever was targeting was something that he has to do on his own. Tired of letting this caller get into his head, he was determined to find him and stop him before he could hurt anyone. He then packs his bag before returning to bed. As he rests besides Kristy, he looks out at the window, pondering on what to do. There was no way in hell that he would let this person win. He then looks at his wife and looks at the picture frame of him and his family on the nightstand.“Just know that I’m only doing this because I love you.” He whispers to the frame before falling asleep.  The next day, Kristy wakes up to see Matt all dressed up and ready to leave as he ties his boots on.

“Wow.” She replies as she gets up from the bed. “You’re all prepared.” “Yeah, I am.”

“On your way to work?” “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll be back. Take care.” He then grabs his duffel bag as he heads out.

“Wait Matt.” “Yes?” “No goodbye kiss?” “Oh yeah, right.” He then walks back to kiss her as he stares longingly at her. “I love you.” “I love you too.” Matt then heads out as he greets the kids goodbye before leaving once he got into his car, he suddenly gets a call from the same person again. He then takes a deep breath before answering as he tries to not let his words intimidate him.“You seem well-prepared.” “I am.” “Funny, am I talking to the same person?” “As a matter of fact, yes, yes you are.”

“I see.”

“And you know what, I’m tired of letting this fear consume me. I may not know who you are or what you want but I’ve come across guys like you. You’re nothing special. I will find you and I won’t stop till I do.” “I see, well if you wanna play it that way that’s fine. If only you know where to find me.”

“Oh I will, I always find a way.”

“I know you will. Good luck.” The caller hangs up as Matt looks on to see Kristy serving breakfast to the kids. Knowing that they’ll never be safe with someone out there targeting them, he vows to find whoever was threatening him. He knows he’s out there and it’s only a matter of time. He looks at his phone to see Luke call him, only to turn it off. Once he put his phone on the side, he looks down on the steering wheel. “I know what I’m doing is wrong, but know that I’m only doing this cause I don’t want any of you to get hurt. God forbids that something happens to any of you because of me, and I don’t want that to happen, I hope you understand.” He then starts the car up before heading out, driving past a black sedan, whom inside, has a man who smiles as he sees Matt past by.

[tipsyrosay]

not meant to be | kth

pairing: taehyung x female reader

genre:  angst, hint of infidelity

words: 1873

a/n: IT’S BEEN A WHILE BUT I’M BACK. My exam are ending next week and I’ll be back , legit full force from the 9th onwards whew!!!!

“Taehyung seen with yet another long-legged beauty. Who is the newest apple of his eye?”

You struggle to hide the smirk that found its way, dancing on your lips, as you tuck the newspaper back into your hand carry. News like these, have long lost its effect on you, it was as if you didn’t care anymore. You wished. The green-eyed monster that once had its reign over you, faded back into the darkness, the moment he walked out of your life. You wonder if you are the only one who missed the both of you, or if it’s mutual, if he’s thinking about you as much as you think about him.

Days came and went like that, it was nothing new. He played such a pivotal role in your life and when he left, you could say a part of you left with him. It was so unfair, you invested so much effort by going out with your colleague for late night karaoke or just for a simple shop-till we-are dead session at the nearby mall, but you just couldn’t wash him out of your system, after all these years. Heaving a sigh, you grabbed your coffee cup and left the seat once again, cold and vacant as the ringing of bells echoed around the shop.

Fresh cinnamon and minty peppermint attacked his nostrils as he found himself entering the place. With tiny candy canes decorating the tree on display and bite sized gingerbread cookies all lined up at the aisle, as if ever ready to greet the customers and the jubilant singing that bounced from wall to wall, it couldn’t get more festive than it already was. His fingers danced, taking their sweet time, tracing the rim of the mug, just as though they were memorising the texture of the surface. An abrupt ringing of the jingle bells woke him up from his daze, an untouched cheesecake and a disappearing figure was all he could make out.

“angel”, “you’re such a beauty”, he groaned out as he watched the silhouette. With sensual and tantalizing steps, the silhouette moved slowly, teasing him with its simple yet haunting movements. With a finger on the lips, it beckoned him to move forward, come closer. The sheerness of the curtain barely hiding the wicked smile behind it, as it whispered, sending shivers down his spine, while staring down at the flushed other.

“Play with me”  

Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. That name seemed so familiar yet unknown at the same time. The goofy freshman you chanced upon at Hoseok’s. Behind all that goofiness, was a boy whose heart was gold and whose tender touch charmed many. They called it the almost relationship, for whatever the both of you had. Those fleeting touches and accidental kisses, so enticing each time, leaving you with a raw craving at the pit of your stomach. The ache that stayed with you after all these times seemed to be growing bigger, silently tearing you apart from within, as you let out a pained smile, once more. Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be. You remembered as he nuzzled against your neck as ‘perfect’ played on the radio, his musky scent encircling you, as you rested your chin on top of his hazel coloured mop of hair, a content smile gracing your features. You could say that was your fondest memory of him or of the both of you. The pitter patter of raindrops accompanied by the homely fireplace, nothing could have gotten more perfect.

“Guess what Y/N?”, he tears his eyes away from the painting in front of him as he waits for your response. 1,2,3.

“What is it now, Tae.” You muttered under your breath as he asks this for the umpteenth time, in the short span of twenty minutes, since the both of you set foot into the museum.

“Nothing.” He let out a cheeky smile as he playfully tugs at your bag before running away, usually a signal for a game of hide and seek. After running past paintings that you swore you already ran past, you were about to give up because that boy could really hide. Resting your hands at your knees, you huffed as you tried to catch your breath.

“I swear Tae if I ever find you, you would wish that you were never b-born”, you threatened the missing boy with all the breath you could muster.

As if he read your mind, he popped out from the side, a package in his hands, as a silly hat rested on his head. Strings were tied everywhere, and messy scribbles decorated the package. Walking closer, you spotted a ‘happy birthday Y/N’ on it and you took the chance to tiptoe and brushed a peck on his cheek.

“Hey, aren’t you surprised, come on Y/n, admit that you are, am I not the best company you could ever have”, he nudged your shoulders as he teasingly wiggled his eyebrows. The sight of him made your heart flutter, letting loose all the butterflies that were previously caged, now set free. You took a step forward and hugged him tightly, as your heart pounded loudly against your chest, you wondered if he heard it. Because if he did, he didn’t show it.

 “Hey Y/n, you still here?”

“Earth to Y/n, please comeback from dream world”

A nudge broke your train of thought and the surroundings reminded you of the ladies’ night that was going on now. Sike, it happened again. You bashfully smiled, showing your embarrassment at your fellow two girlfriends sitting across you.

“As I was saying Y/n, So Jung is posted overseas for one of her projects and this coming Sunday, we ladies should do something for her,” she stared at you, waiting for your response. Desperately finding the right words, a high-pitched giggle escaped your mouth instead. Great, now your friends are really going to think you have lost your marbles. Before you could even attempt to find your dignity, a man dressed in a black tuxedo and styled up honey hair proceeded to walk towards your table, bending down as he pecks Rose’s cheek. Jennie let out a wolf whistle and you raised your eyebrow at Rose’s mystery man. Because of everything, you didn’t remember Rose mentioning that she was dating someone, not that you were even listening.

When the man rose, and offered a smile towards you all, it took a lot of effort on your part, not to bolt. This got to be a joke, this is not happening right now, not to me, you chanted to yourself, internally. With honey coloured styled hair, and a tuxedo that complemented his lengthy limbs, was Kim Taehyung, in all his glory, standing right in front the three of you all. The Taehyung that never liked wearing tuxedos because it was ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘rigid’, everything he wasn’t. Your Tae, you thought. You were glad there was no need to talk because you gladly believed that if you were to speak, your voice would betray you.

I’m sorry that I let you go

You were so terribly confused, conflicted, emotions messing with your head.  After all these years, you finally got to see him, but just not the way you thought you would, in the arms of another, especially in your friend’s.  

 I’m sorry that I cared

You held his gaze, wanting to detect any emotion in them, but you were faced with none, just a pair of stone cold brown hues staring back at you. Rose and Jennie glanced between the both of you, question marks arising from their heads.

“Hey girls, this is Taehyung, my date”, and with that she eagerly introduced him to the both of you. Jennie, with much excitement, stands up to congratulate the two of them and gives him a hug.

While for you, a simple handshake and “Hi, my name is Y/n” was it.

“Really, the name seems to ring a bell though, are you sure we have not met before?” He raises his eyebrows at you, as if challenging you to refuse that.

“I’m pretty sure I would know better if I had seen you before, Taehyung.”

And for a moment, nothing changed

“Call me Tae, I insist” and that really was the cue for you to break the stare down and sit back down, laying out your napkin.

Dinner was awkward, at least for you it was. You didn’t want him to know that you were pathetic without him, that you were missing him so much. You didn’t want to hear how well he was doing, moving on so easily from what happened last night. That he went back to her, the ‘only woman’ of his life, that you were an easy fix, a one-time thing.

Everyone had their ride back, a driver was waiting outside the restaurant for Jennie and Rose since they were roommates and none of them drove, which left the two of you standing out there in the cold, so close yet so far. You took the opportunity to admire the beautiful street lights, reminding you of your favourite season coming up.

He sneaked a glance at you, the girl that he once loved. The girl that he was so close to being something with her, but the timing was never there. They call it the two parallel lines that are so close to each other but never ever intersect. He guessed that the both of you fell under this label and fate had already planned this out for the both of you right from the start. When he had met you at the age of 18, you were already developing into the feisty yet emotional, strong willed woman you are today. He was attracted to you the moment Namjoon introduced the you to him, your weird sense of humour got him hooked to a string that was bound to break someday. But Namjoon had warned that you were together with Jungkook and that there was no point chasing a girl that is taken, thus he kept his distance. Until that night that you came crying to him, makeup all smudged and in your pyjamas, seeking comfort in his company, his walls all came crushing down.

Now, he watches as you seek comfort in the cold weather, eyes admiring the decorations in awe, breathing out warm air as your cheeks slowly start to flush. He reached out, wanting to put your hand into his pocket with his hand warming yours, run his fingers through your curls, but he finds himself withdrawing his hand back into his side pocket. He ignores the stinging pain he feels as the tears roll down his cheek, the taste of salt slipping into his lips, as he now stares forward.

“Are you, Y/n unnie and Taehyungie oppa together or something?” His sister asked you with big, inquisitive eyes, as you brushed her hair.

“No, but why the sudden question little Taeyeon?”

Not expecting her reply, you slowly rose up, dusting your skirt, about to attend to other errands.

“Omma once told me that lying is bad”, and she ran away before you could even muster a reply.

Well, it’s not lying if he was never yours to begin with.

talk to me 1!1! /give me feedback

[hopewritteninthestars]

The Gift ~ A Reylo Short Story

In time for the holidays I thought I’d share a somewhat holiday tinged Reylo story. I don’t have an AO3 account (yet) so I’m sharing it here. I’m relatively new to writing fic but here is my little offering. It’s a short and fluffy piece so I hope you enjoy!

It had been awhile since they had last seen each other. That last look she gave him haunted him. The disappointment and knowing he had caused it. He had let his pride get the best of him. He had been clumsy in his attempts and ruined it all. Afraid that he would lose the one good thing that had came into his life he became desperate and scared her away.

It was a horrible mistake to so easily assume that the connection was indeed orchestrated by Snoke. Her look when she had refused seemed at the time a confirmation of this fact. But the second he had seen her again he regretted every action thereafter and was haunted by it. If only he hadn’t been so afraid, but it did nothing to dwell on things that couldn’t be undone.

He had been tempted on occasion to reach out and connect but yet again his pride refused him this luxury. Nevertheless it’s not as if she wanted to see him anyway. He still sensed her need to be alone. But the bond was still there dormant for the moment but there just the same. It was as if the force itself was trying in desperation to strengthen and open the bond again. He thought this was true because sometimes he could almost feel it, sense her emotions or hear her voice in conversation. Nothing that could be seen but he felt it quite strongly.

It was late one evening when this feeling came in. He heard voices coming in and closed his eyes to concentrate. The voices seemed clear but distant as if he were listening from another room or underwater. He could place Rey’s voice exactly as he could never forget it but he couldn’t recognize the second voice speaking with her. It was a female voice and as Rey spoke he connected that this person was someone named Rose. They were in conversation and the Rose girl brought up The Festival of Lights. Kylo snapped straight up as he was suddenly reminded of his own memories connected to this popular galaxy holiday. Memories that were now forever tinged with sadness. Memories he tried to keep buried. The Rose girl continued to talk recounting her own memories and saying they were especially special for her after recently losing her sister. Kylo waited for Rey’s response to this. Rey had never heard of the day saying it sounded wonderful but was not something celebrated on Jakku and that she wished she had good memories as well. Kylo’s heart inadvertently tugged and he felt sympathetic to the ring of sadness in her voice. Soon the voices began to fade and were soon gone from his perception. He sat on the edge of his bed mulling things over when a plan entered his mind. A plan that he must keep to himself but one he felt urged to complete.

Being Supreme Leader had it’s perks despite the fact it wasn’t as fulfilling as he had hoped. He was no longer under anyone’s thumb and didn’t have to explain himself. He was well aware that he made people feel uneasy and he used this to his advantage. He could keep to himself which is what he preferred. He came upon subordinates and requested that his shuttle be prepared. He continued saying that this was to be a solo mission. Nobody dared argue with him so they acquiesced despite it going against protocol. Soon his shuttle was dispatched and he was off.

His destination for this expedition was soon in reach. That being the planet of Jakku, Rey’s planet and one that tugged his conscious as he remembered his actions the last time he had been there. It was dusk when he landed his shuttle in a remote and secluded area. He walked a short distance till he sensed the place he needed to be. He stopped in his tracks and looked ahead, there laid the overturned AT-AT. The place Rey unfortunately had to call home for so long.

He entered the makeshift living area which was cramped for his tall frame. Sand had blown in and blanketed part of this area from the entrance being left ajar. He surveyed the area; discarded clothes, various tools and empty portion packets covered the space. It was a sad and desolate place. He took note of the things he saw picking up a few mementos. He turned to leave when the toe of his boot scuffed against something on the floor. He knelt down to pick up this object and realized it was a doll. A crudely made toy but one that held a certain charm for a child. He turned it about in his hand studying it. The doll was wearing an outfit similar to that of an X-Wing pilot. For a moment he felt a tug of aggression towards that particular resistance pilot but he brushed that aside. He could only imagine how much imagination was an escape for a young Rey who would’ve needed escapism to deal with her isolation. With that he tucked it in his cloak and left.

It was late when he returned. He retreated into his private quarters to be alone with his thoughts. He laid the objects he had brought back on his bed and observed them. He was surprised at how much Rey had stirred such a sentimentality in him. He almost grinned at this observation. He turned and went to a secret area of his room to retrieve a box hidden away that no one but him knew about. Inside the box were his long neglected parchment and calligraphy tools, objects that once brought him peace and calm but had not been touched in quite some time.

He started the note and was pleased that his fingertips still held that artistic touch after all this time. He finished his writing and went over to the items still on the bed. He took an old cowl and wrapped the things up in a small fabric parcel and pinned the note to it.

He tried to concentrate and finally re-open the bond that they both had left closed. In an instant everything seemed to fall away and the surrounding sound was muted. He open his eyes to darkness and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He was in a resistance private quarter, turning his head he made out the sleeping form on the bed. Pale blue light streamed in through a small window casting a shadow over her resting profile. He couldn’t help but gaze at her in such a gentle and vulnerable state. As much as he had longed to have her eyes looking into his own or to hear her voice he wasn’t here to disturb her. He placed the parcel near her on the bed and like that he was gone.

“Ben...” Rey murmured as her eyes fluttered open. Had it just been a dream? It had seemed so real though. Even in sleep she felt his presence close to her. She glanced around the room and saw no figure and no voice replied back. She gave up stretched her arm out to pull the blanket up before turning over. With that she heard something fall on the floor. She shot up and bent over to investigate the source. What she found was a small black package. She knew this fabric, it was familiar and she instantly knew it belonged to him. She tentatively tugged away at the fabric and pulled out what was inside. First she was surprised to find her own bell the one she had back on Jakku. A small item which meant little to anyone else but had brought melodic cheer to her once quiet existence. She let out a gasp when she pulled the next and final item. It was her old doll made my her own hands. She never thought she’d ever see it again and after everything that had occurred in the time since she almost forgot it. But it was so important to her. It was a little thing but in a sense had been her only companion in those isolated moments on Jakku.

She noticed a note that slid across the floor and she reached out to pick it up. She used her finger to break the seal and another surprise a flower that had been kept back on Jakku fell into her lap. She continued with the note and read the beautifully written words.

Rey,

I know you don’t want to hear from me now. I was a fool and I wish I could explain things better to you but at this time I can’t. My feelings have not changed though, despite my actions and words in the heat of the moment. I’m not excusing what I did I just want you to know what I felt and still feel was genuine. I just wanted to try and amend for my clumsily spoken words. You’re parents may have been nothing, and it disgusts me that they would throw someone as special as you away. But you aren’t nothing, you mean something to me and that is the truth. But I want to amend for saying you came from nothing. I still hold the belief that one must let go of holding too tightly to the past. But these items I found and return to you now are important and show your past was not nothing. I regret that it was such a painful past but it meant something. For that I am truly sorry. I hope you enjoy your first Festival of Lights, and consider this my gift to you. Remember you’re not alone and I’m here whenever you’re ready.

Always,

Ben

Rey wiped away a stray tear. Nothing in the past had quite touched her as this action had. She gathered the parcel and placed it in a safe and secluded place. She crawled back into bed holding her doll tightly against her chest. Things were still so uncertain in the grand scheme of things. But here right now, on the eve of the Festival of Lights things seemed so promising. In the turbulent state of the galaxy this peacefulness of mind wouldn’t last. But she was reminded of that hope she had once seen a glimmer of still hidden below his surface. She began to drift off and a small smile crept across her lips and she knew she would see Ben again soon.

[sending-the-message]

You Can See It Through the Cracks by SprocketSaga

I’m home from school by 3:40 pm if I run, which I always do. I have two hours to search the house and then hide my tracks: Mother will return by 5:35, bringing Tommy from daycare and groceries for the day. She’ll have packages “from the butcher” that bleed fresh juice through the plain brown paper, and there will be no labels. I will pretend not to notice.

I’ve been searching for three months now. That’s about when Tommy moved into my room, and he talks in his sleep. That put things in perspective, made me think back on all the little moments I hadn’t had a place for. How do you define a slow-burn thought, something that wriggles its way from suspicion into certainty? And what do you do when you can’t get rid of it?

I have to know.

There’s rot in a twisted person that seeps through the cracks. They can smile, they can joke, they can take their children on bright picnics in the cold September daylight but they can’t plug every leak. Across the checkered picnic blanket, Mother smoothed the blue cotton of her sundress but I could see her wiry hands wring the hem as if searching for a neck. I said nothing, asked Father to pass the egg salad.

I’m on my own against a house full of monsters. I rarely sleep at night since Tommy moved in with me. He lies in the bed across the room, and in the black hours I can hear him whisper his vile thoughts, things no sixth-grader should hear – let alone her five-year-old brother. Tonight he wants to know how my intestines taste, wants to know if the fat of my arm will sizzle on the spit roast and if it will still be crackling, bubbling, salty when he tears at the muscles with his sharp, greedy teeth.

I couldn’t search at all that day. They came home early, said we were going out for a nice picnic dinner while the weather held. I had to wait till Tuesday to search Father’s dresser, to check the wood for false panels, the stitches and pockets of his jeans for notes, stains, razor blades, anything. I have to be meticulous, and precise: a single paper replaced wrong could tip them off, and then who knows what they would do.

I was in the kitchen two days later, helping Father with supper as he prodded the roast “beef,” ready for carving. His fingers lingered on the flesh and the blade, his eyes glazed longingly across the meat, and I knew he was savoring the moment where he would cut, and the blood would ooze from the seam. How many people has he cut to pieces, and how can he not spill a drop on his perfect starched-white shirts?

They can see me watching. They know I’m not like them, and they’re trying to change me. I eat all of the “meat” they serve for dinner, I tell them it’s delicious, and that night I stay very silent when vomiting it out.

Whenever Tommy picks a fight I’m the one who gets in trouble, like they’re mad that I won’t hurt back. Last time Father spanked me, sent me to bed early. I slept huddled under the bed, terrified, wondering if this was the night they give up on me. Wondering if tonight’s the night that Father comes in with the cleaver and drags me to the butcher block, splits me top to bottom and pulls out my guts, dumps them into the skillet while our cat swats at the pieces that drag along the floor.

I don’t know how long I have, but I need something concrete, something that will lock them away forever. Father’s dresser was the final spot on the main floor. All that’s left is the basement, and I think I know where.

I’ve been avoiding it. The door behind the freezer, sandwiched in the corner against the damp concrete walls. The door that bangs, creaks, thrashes on its hinges. Something’s behind the cracks of that door. Maybe someone. At nights, when we are all together, there’ll be a shudder, or a moaning from the basement. A loud slam against the walls, the pipes, the guts of the house, and Mother will give Father a pointed look and he will pull a key from under the kitchen sink. He’ll disappear into the basement and the sounds will shut off like a switch.

Several days later, new moans come from the crack beneath the door, echo through the house, but only when I am alone. Their next victim? Some new poor soul that I can’t save – or haven’t been willing to? All this time I’ve searched the house for bloody knives or gnawed bones, twisted photos or a scalp of hair, because I’d rather find those. I’m not sure I can handle finding a mutilated corpse, and I know that I can’t handle finding someone staring back at the coward who could have saved them.

I am haunted by his eyes. In my dreams the captive rattles and moans and the whirr of the freezer shuts off; the concrete crunches underfoot as I reach the door and turn the knob. It creaks open, and I see a man or woman, naked, scarred, blood and pus oozing from opened creases in their gray skin. I stand in the doorway and they look back, and a million guilts pass between us. It’s my fault, I let this go on, I could have stopped it. I could have saved him, or the woman before him, or the five before that. And in that moment, me standing and him lying, dying in the dirt, I hear the back door and I turn in time to see Mother at the top of the stairs, drawing out her knife.

I wake, drenched in sweat and frozen to my core. Mother is calling me to wake up or I’ll be late for school – I hear the ice woven through her singsong voice. I smell the “bacon” and eggs. I lie back in bed. There are no other places left to search: today I’ll have to open the door.

At the breakfast table, I pick around the meat but they are waiting. I have to eat it. I choke on the strip the first time, the second as well, it’s so stringy and gamey and oh someone help me, I can feel the strands of flesh. I gag and they look at me, false concern hiding their contempt.

Father asks if I’m okay. I look pale this morning, he says.

“I’m fine, Father.” They glance at each other, a quick flick of the eyes, and I know they are not convinced. I want to scream. I am so sick of being toyed with.

Tommy reaches over from his high chair, a tiny fat fist offering me his own broken pieces. “Sissy don’ be sad, you can hav–” and then he screams. I’ve twisted his hand, shoved him away, and he’s slipped out of the chair. I’m already running from the table.

Father comes to me at the back door as I’m tying my shoes. I can still hear Tommy wailing into Mother’s shoulder, the sick little bastard. He wants them to hurt me. I’m sure they do, too.

He asks if I want to talk about it.

I don’t respond. I can’t look up at him, don’t want to know what mad glint I’ll see in his expression. I brace for the hit, the slice, for him to punt me down the stairs and lock me behind the door. It’s only a matter of time before I’m next.

He asks about the last few days. Asks about school. Says he and Mother are worried. His voice is smooth – syrupy. Is there something you want to tell us, he says. I say nothing. I’m done acting for them, done hiding.

The phone rings, Mother calls from the other room, Rayou, that’s the office. He checks his watch, I hear him sigh. Here it comes. Spare me the prelude, stop making me squirm, just do it already.

He tells me he needs to go, but we’ll talk tonight. Then he says that he loves me. And he kisses me on the forehead before walking out the front door. I wait until he’s gone to scratch frantically at the spot he touched.

It has to be today. They’re going to do it tonight, going to kill me or torture me or peel my skin away and replace all my parts with something else. It has to be today.

I run harder than I ever have on the path home from school. The living room is quiet, silent, the air thick with forced serenity. I walk past the pastel throw pillows and wall hangings, cutesy pictures of our family. I see myself alone in every photo, among gleaming nightmare eyes and pointed, slicing, bloodstained teeth. A moan comes from the basement and I slip the backpack from my shoulders.

It thuds against the carpet, and an answering knock comes back from below. I set my lunchbox down, pull my jacket off and drop it behind me on the way to the stairwell. It’s been a drizzly fall day and I’ve tracked mud across the white carpet. Oh well. No point behaving any longer. They kill me today if I can’t get out.

I pull the key from under the sink.

The moaning and thudding gets worse as I enter the dining room. My shoes squeak on the hardwood floor and every sound could be Mother, home early because she knows, they know, and I don’t have the time. I know I don’t. I’m not strong enough for this but I have to do it now.

The wet air crawls across my hands when I crack the basement door. It’s like walking into water, into rot, and the walls are slick with dew or damp or maybe blood. My feet are shaking and I skid on the steps; I have to hold the hand rail as I stammer my way down. Another moan, inhuman, agony. Another step down. Again I fight the urge to turn back, to run. I reach the bottom and a wave of nausea hits me, from a stench I can’t smell but know is there, must be there.

I could dash back up into the light. Stay with a friend. Hide in a closet until Father stops looking. But he won’t. They won’t ever let me go. And even if they did, I owe it to the next person behind this door. Even if I can’t save this one.

Another step across the cold floor. Another hacking gasp from behind the door, a thud, a stammer, a flutter of the heart. Every noise is a punch to the gut, a wild guess at what torture lurks behind it. I get flashes, ideas of what Mother or Father or, please God, not Tommy have been doing to this one. Lashings? Beatings? Screws in the flesh or weights on the chest or endless razor-slash games on the puckered canvas of skin?

I reach the door and it falls silent. I turn the key, but can’t bring myself to open it. They use razors, I just know it. Dark drops pooling on the thin slices, intricate red lines across his naked body and when he twists in pain, the cuts tear open and it flows everywhere, it can’t clot, not fast enough and they eagerly lick it clean, red, salty, don’t make me look, I don’t want to know, but I do, I have to, I have to know, and maybe after everything else that’s why I finally throw open the door.

It’s a tiny room, four by four feet. A water heater. Pipes leading out into the house, a single blinking light, then the tank kicks on and shudders to life, rattling the pipes. The new water flowing through sounds like a rushing or a roaring or a moaning.

A moaning. Oh, God.

I punch the tank at least twice, maybe three times. No, no, no, I scream, I cry, I wail. I slip and fall over, slump against the doorframe with my hand still on the hot metal, utterly spent. Utterly lost. No.

I’m still there when Mother finds me. There’s a call, shouting. She sits down, reaches, pulls me into a hug. For the first time in years, I want to hug back. Father comes with Tommy and they huddle around me, on the floor of the basement.

I can’t reach for them, can’t look at them. Just up at the water heater and its smooth, sterile metal. My final chance. My last holdout. My family really did have a dark secret. I was just looking in all the wrong places.

You can deny, you can blame, you can search for the filth in others. But there’s rot in a twisted person that seeps through the cracks. And oh God, am I cracking.

[angelofwords-blog1]

Photograph

Synopsis: Sam and Y/n had a fight but they make up for it with some fluffy dates. Seven songs of sam series. This is part five, here are one two three and four. Based on Photograph by Ed Sheeran

Word count: 1,536

Loving can hurt Loving can hurt sometimes But it's the only thing that I know When it gets hard You know it can get hard sometimes It is the only thing that makes us feel alive We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken Times forever frozen still

I really didn’t like it when Y/n was mad at me. This was the first time that we had gotten in a fight, and it was obvious that I was going to be the one to apologize. She was just so stubborn. And I loved her for it. It was just silly really, when you thought about it. I don't even remember what had happened. But we had gotten into a fight and now, three days later, we still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. I sat at the table in the library, Y/n sitting right across from me, and both of us were acting like the other didn’t exist.

“Oh my god, guys really?” Dean yelled as he walked in and saw us. “Just say you're sorry and make up. I’m tired of you guys acting like children.” I stared at Y/n, judging her reaction as Dean stormed away.

“So, um,” I fidgeted in my chair. “I’m sorry?” I worded it like a question.

“You don't even remember what happened do you?” I couldn’t be sure but I thought I saw her mouth twitch up slightly.

“No.” Her rich laughter filled the air, and the sound had me smiling even though I had no clue what was going on.

“Neither do I. So, we just wasted three days. What do you want to do?” She slammed shut the book she had been reading and sat on the edge of her chair, leaning forward over the table.

“Lets go for a ride.” I stood up and offered her my hand, smiling when I felt her soft skin slide against mine. We made our way up to the garage and she picked a set of keys off the wall, throwing them to me. The car she had chosen was a 67 Mustang. Once we were on the road she leaned over and tangled her fingers through mine.

“Where are we headed?”

“I heard there’s a carnival in town. Sound fun?”

“Sounds great.” Her smile made me want to do nothing but grab her face and kiss her, but as I was driving I forced myself to keep my eyes on the road. “Can we make one stop please?”

“Sure.” I turned where she told me and brought the car to a stop in front of a drug store. I watched her as she went inside and returned moments later. She had a bag in her hands and once I was driving again she pulled the contents out. In the bag was a package of three deposable cameras.

“To remember.” She said with a sad smile. I nodded and parked the Mustang in a field in front of a big red tent.

The rest of the evening was perfect. There were elephants, jugglers, and lots of food. There were clowns too, but I managed to avoid those till Y/n forced me to pose with one for a picture. Dean would love that when we got home. The entire time Y/n was snapping as many pictures as she could. Of the two of us, the entertainers, and everything else. The radiant smile never left her.

So you can keep me Inside the pocket Of your ripped jeans Holdin' me closer 'Til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone Wait for me to come home Loving can heal Loving can mend your soul And it's the only thing that I know (know) I swear it will get easier Remember that with every piece of ya And it's the only thing we take with us when we die

I woke up to Y/n screaming again. I shook her shoulders until her eyes met mine. Her fingers dug into my arms as she held on for dear life.

“Samuel, promise me that you wont let me go.” The fear in her eyes had me terrified as the searched my own for comfort.

“I promise. You wont ever be alone Y/n. I’ll never let you go.” I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her hair, tracing comfort circles into her back as I held her. Her body shook with sobs as cried.

This happened almost every night, but she never told me why. “Hey, hey calm down. How about we go out for Ice cream?”

“Samuel, It’s midnight.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. I smiled and brushed away her tears.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t get Ice cream.” I jumped up and pulled a shirt over my head. “Common, let’s go.” I didn’t even let her get dressed, telling her she looked hot in her pajamas. On the way out the door she stopped and pulled back,

“Hang on, just let me get something.” She returned with the second camera in her hands. “I’m ready now.” There was a smile on her face, but the ghosts that haunted her were still visible in her eyes to those who looked.

The bell chimed as we walked into her favorite ice-cream place hand in hand. It was probably her favorite because it was open twenty-four seven. Or maybe the electric jukebox that had every song on the face of the earth. Or the extremely kind waitress. Or maybe even the fact that the ice-cream was wonderful.

“The usual?” Our waitress asked, a nice young woman who was defiantly trying to pay off student debt.

“You know it Brandy.”

Me and Y/n talked about everything and nothing as we waited for out order, and then when we got the soft serve for her and the cherry for me we continued. We talked long after we finished eating and around two am we were the only people in the shop. She had her feet propped up in my lap and I was laying across my bench with my back against the wall. There was no where else I wanted to be.

The waitress took a picture for us.

We keep this love in this photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Our hearts were never broken Times forever frozen still So you can keep me Inside the pocket Of your ripped jeans Holdin' me closer 'Til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone

“Y/n! Stop taking pictures of me!” Dean yelled, and I couldn’t help but smile at my book.

“Common Dean. I want to remember you as you are, grumpy and stuffing pie in your face.” Y/n and Dean were in the kitchen, I was in the library but I could here them arguing. I could also here the smile in their voices.

“Oh, and you’re so much better.”

“Damn straight. I’m gorgeous.”

“That’s true, actually.”

“You know I can here you right?” I yelled. “Stop hitting on my girlfriend.”

“Ah common Sammy, we both know she would never cheat on you.” Dean slapped me on the back when he walked into the room, leaning over me to see what I was reading. A flash signaled that Y/n had taken another photo. She laughed when Dean flipped her off, snapping yet another photo of him.

“Okay boys, this is the last one. I swear.” She giggled at Dean’s bitch face. “Mainly because the camera’s full.” Wrapping her arms around my shoulder she held the camera out and took a selfie of the two of us. “Can we go get these developed please?” She whispered, pressing a kiss   to my ear.

“Sure, I need out of the bunker anyways.” I got up and headed to the garage, Y/n trailing after me hopping on one foot as she tried to put on her shoes.

“If you fall and crack your head open it’s your fault.”

“Love you too Dean. We’ll be back in a while.” Once she get her converse on she ran and caught up to me, slipping her fingers through mine. “Can we stop at Michael’s on the way there? I want to get a photo album to put all of these in.”

“Of course. We can have a scrapbooking party and everything.” I shrugged.

“Really?” She obviously hadn’t heard the sarcasm in that last part. “Can I braid your hair?”

“You’re crazy Y/n.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” There was no way I could say no to her, not when she looked at me like that.

“Maybe.”

“Yes!” She pumped her fist in the air, jumping like a crazy person.

“I said maybe not yes!”

And if you hurt me Well, that's OK, baby, only words bleed Inside these pages you just hold me And I won't ever let you go When I'm away I will remember how you kissed me Under the lamppost Back on 6th street Hearing you whisper through the phone, "Wait for me to come home."

Part six