#also I keep saying this as if I don’t already have a fully written ending to my own headcanon story

[siriusfelis]

Rewriting cookie run and putting Rich Cheese in

[f1angelz]

𝒇𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 — lando norris x f!reader

summary: lando has been fed up with Y/N’s bratty attitude, unfortunately for her, he finally bursts out.

content warning: (non proofread) smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, heavy degradation, spanking, swearing (literally starts under the cut), unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, and a hint of fluff at the end!

guys pls don’t bully me this is the first time i’ve written a full smut fic 😔 if you aren’t into hardcore shit this is your final warning to leave!

── .✦

“You fucking bitch.” As soon as the door was slammed shut, Lando grips her by the neck from behind, turning her around to face him.

“I’ve had enough of your fucking attitude, and your act earlier was the last straw.” His jaw clenched out of frustration and looked her dead in the eyes.

A few hours ago, they went on a date and it was scorching hot. Y/N wasn’t a big fan of the heat— it made her super annoyed, and annoyed she was for the whole entirety of their date.

Lando tried to be patient, trying his best to attend to her needs even if some were out of reach.

And here she was, giving Lando puppy eyes in hopes of him having mercy.

Lando dragged her to the bedroom, “O-ow! Lando, that hurts!” Y/N winced, her body being forced to follow his harsh actions.

“Now you decide to fucking speak after giving me silent treatment on the way home?” He slams her on the bed and she whines, still giving him puppy eyes.

“Those eyes aren’t gonna work on me, fucking bitch.” He aggressively pushes his lips into hers, teeth clashing and tongues fighting. Y/N tries to pull away, but Lando is quick enough to grip her cheeks to restrain her from doing so.

When Lando finally pulls away, she takes this as an opportunity to catch her breath.

“W-wait!” Y/N pleads as he practically rips off her shorts and top, leaving her in her underwear. He, too takes off his shirt and pants also leaving him in his underwear.

“Shut up.” Lando says under his breath, pushing her legs open. “Keep these legs fucking open, ‘kay?” He slaps her inner thigh, making her jolt at the sudden contact.

“Sit up.” He commands and Y/N obeys, resting her back against the headboard while keeping her legs open.

Lando lays on his stomach and positions himself in front of her pussy.

Gently, he placed kisses on her inner thigh while his free hand teased the other.

Y/N’s breaths were stuttering, feeling ticklish at his touch. She wanted more— she needed more.

“Lando please..” She croaked out in a soft, trembling voice, afraid of what his response may be. “Please what? Hmm?” He taunts, looking up at her.

He pulls away from her thigh and focuses on inching closer to her pussy, a wet patch evidently marking on her underwear. Lando smirks, “Already so fucking wet? What a slut.” He mocks and slaps her pussy, earning a moan from the female. He watched the wet patch grew larger and Lando laughed even more.

He teases a finger on her clit, still keeping her underwear on. He licks on the wet patch and Y/N’s mouth hangs open. “P-please..” She begs in a small voice.

Lando pulls her underwear to the side to reveal her wet, desperate pussy. He brings his finger to her clit, rubbing it in painfully slow circles. Y/N looks at him, biting her lip out of frustration.

“Look at this pussy.. So fucking wet, so desperate for me. Yeah? Isn’t that right?” Lando looks at her, applying pressure on her clit. She nods, accepting the fact that she was desperate for his touch.

Unsatisfied with her answer, he slaps her pussy once more. “Speak when you’re spoken to.” Y/N lets out a moan, almost a scream from how sensitive she is. “F-fuck, yes! Fuck p-please, I need your fingers.”

Lando, feeling a tinge of sympathy, removes her underwear to fully reveal her pussy. He teases her entrance with his finger, coating it with her wetness.

Y/N pushes herself down onto his fingers, in attempt to feel stretched out by at least just one finger.

“Needy little bitch. That’s what you want? Fine, fuck yourself on my fingers.” Lando sits up and gets on his knees, finger still inside her.

Y/N, left with no choice yet with such desperation, obeys and starts fucking herself on his digits.

She moans out, and even louder when he adds another and curls it inside her. Lando rubs her clit with his thumb, making her go crazy. “Sh-shit, that feels so good.” She manages to say between her shaky moans.

She picks up the pace, slowly feeling a knot form in her abdomen.

“I’m gonna c-cum, please let me cum.” Y/N begs, looking at Lando.

“You aren’t cumming yet.” He pulls out his fingers and pushes her down on the bed, then aggressively pulls her legs closer to his face to eat her out.

He sinks down onto her, licking a long stripe then stopping at her clit to suck it.

Y/N cries out, finally taking in what she’s been craving for. Lando sucks harder upon hearing her moans, then shoving two fingers in her.

Her jaw hangs open, unable to produce another sound from all the pleasure her body is receiving. Eventually, she feels a familiar sensation in her abdomen— causing her thighs to tighten around Lando’s head.

Lando pushes her legs down and looks up at her, pulling away from her pussy.

Y/N whines, the feeling of pleasure being ripped away from her once more.

Lando gets on his knees and takes her by the waist, aggressively turning her around to put her in all fours.

“P-please..” Was all she could say, “Ass up.” He places a hard slap on her ass and she jolts.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Two slaps were given, and tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes— overwhelmed and overstimulated from everything that was happening.

Pissed off, Lando grabbed her hair and shoved her head in the pillows with no remorse. Y/N hiccuped, tears streaming down her face.

Lando gets rid of his underwear, freeing his dick from the restraints. He gives her ass a firm squeeze before shoving his dick in her with no warning, forcefully fitting his thick cock.

Y/N practically screams at the sudden action, the first thrust hitting her cervix causing her tears to shed even more.

“Where’s the bratty little bitch from earlier? Hmm?” Lando asks in a demeaning tone, his rhythm going faster. “I-I’m so— s-sorry, baby p-please!” She sobs out, regretting all she has done— but it was definitely too late.

He slaps her ass again, but this time much harder. Y/N was helpless, gripping on the pillows like her life depended on it. With every thrust, her body was starting to become limp.

Her mind wasn’t processing anything. Only sobs, moans, and whines were coming out of her mouth— her poor pussy severely overstimulated.

Lando pulls her hair, causing her head to jerk upwards. “Fucked out that little brain of yours?”

She doesn’t answer, only sobbing and moaning from the pleasure. “S-sorry, baby I’m s— s-sorry! I wanna cum pl-lease!” She managed to say in between sobs, catching her breath.

He lets go of her hair, limp body falling down on the bed like a rag doll. Lando lets out a laugh, picking up the pace even more.

Y/N’s voice was growing hoarse from all cries and screams she was letting out, and she knew Lando wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon.

The knot in her abdomen forms again for the third time, and she secretly hoped that it would finally release for that night.

“C-cum.. I’m gon— gonna c-cum!” She cries even harder, the pillows visibly wet from her tears and sweat.

“Hmm? The little bitch is gonna cum?” Lando mocks, his thrust going at an ungodly pace. His grip on her hips tighten, pushing it down for him to go even deeper.

“Go cum.” With Lando’s command, Y/N’s most awaited release comes instantly, pleasure immediately washing over her.

He pulls out, her juices gushing out of her entrance. Y/N’s legs shake, her body completely surrendering to collapse. Eyes were half lidded, breaths still shaky and tears were still flowing ever so slightly.

Lando takes a look at her state and a wave of regret instantly surges over his mind.

He sinks beside her on the bed, taking her in his arms. He rests her head on his chest, stroking her hair.

“You s-still love me, right..?” She croaks out, sniffling as she looked up to meet his eyes.

Lando, with a concerned look on his face, wipes her remaining tears away. “My love, I will always love you. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive, especially with my words. I’m sorry baby.” He looks at her endearingly, moving her hair away from her face.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, scanning her body for any bruises. “My ass hurts..” She whines, turning her body slightly to show the red marks he previously made.

“My poor baby.” He pouts and grazes his hand over the marks, making Y/N wince.

“Do you want me to draw you a bath, or would you like to stay like this for a little more?” Lando places a hand on her cheek, stroking it lightly.

“We can stay like this for a while.” She takes his hand on her cheek, intertwining it with her hand.

After a few minutes, Y/N dozed off— embraced in her lover’s arms.

── .✦

[moonstruckme]

Hey lovely, how are you?

I’m not sure if I should be answering this through here, but here we go

I had already read that lil’ drabble and it’s perfect!!! Please don’t get me wrong, I really love it, but I was thinking of something a little different.

Maybe reader has to get a vaccine (because she was stalling to do it) and when the boys find out they were like “you need to get it, it’s for your health” and reader goes like “fine”. Well, it wasn’t fine. When reader finally realizes what’s happening she turns into this sobbing mess and it just breaks the boys hearts 💔

I know this is kinda specific, sorry. It’s what always happens to me when I go get vaccinated and I always end up crying more than I thought I would.

It’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it, though! Also, sorry if some terms were wrong, english is not my first language lol

Anyways, love you and love your work!! 🫶

Thanks for explaining babe, and for requesting <3

cw: needle, also I have once again written myself into an inaccurate emt situation and am once again asking for your feigned oversight of the erroneousness. Thank you mwah! 

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You’re being quiet. James keeps trying to pick up conversation, but you won’t engage for more than a few words and a terse smile before falling silent again. They’ve all picked up on it. From the driver’s seat, Remus keeps casting scrutinous glances at you in the rear view mirror. James has given up on trying to get you to talk and is just grateful you’re letting him be near you, his hand on your leg while you stare out the window. 

It’s obvious you’re upset. You like being told what to do as much as the next person, and when they’d found out you’d been avoiding going to get your vaccine they’d been more than a little bossy. Though he’d been as insistent as the other two that it was important to get done, James had honestly felt a bit sorry for you; Remus had decided you were going the next morning before you could get a word in, which would have been next to impossible anyways with the tirade Sirius had embarked on. 

James feels a bit sorry for you now, too, when he and Remus are trying to go along with your wishes and keep quiet and Sirius is, quite naturally, goading you. 

“You don’t have to be mad at us, baby,” he says, fully turned around in the passenger seat to give you his poutiest look. “We’re all on the same team here, yeah?” 

“I’m not mad,” you say to the window. 

“I get that you’re not needles’ number one fan, but you know how important this is. We just want you to be healthy.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs so James’ hand falls away from you. It stings a little. “Can we not talk about it?” 

“Sure, dove.” Remus’ eyes are on you in the rear view mirror again, his hand reaching across the console to cover Sirius’ knee warningly. “We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You’re quiet the rest of the drive. James is used to being around people that are stewing (years of friendship with Remus and Sirius will accustom one to that), but it makes him fidgety to think you’re angry with him. He really wants to reach for your hand. You’re too stiff to make him confident you’ll take it. 

But when you enter the curtained-off room and don’t go to hop up on the table, you don’t reject the helping hand he offers you to get up. You don’t let go. 

Remus leaves to prepare your vaccine, and you don’t seem any more inclined to talk than you had been in the car. James decides to hop up on the table beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders when you seem amenable to it, and Sirius leans against the desk, thwacking a pen in a lazy rhythm. You feel tense under his arm. 

James is beginning to suspect you’re not actually angry. 

“You okay, angel?” he asks gently. 

“Fine,” you say, clipped. It’s the same response you’d given when they’d strong-armed you into this appointment. He’s not sure if he believes you anymore. 

James is suddenly glad he came. Though Remus and Sirius had to come in for their shift and will be staying after, he only tagged along because he wanted (as always) to be wherever the three of you are. Now that he has an inkling of how you’re feeling, James is glad he’ll be with you to drive you home, look after you in case you have any side effects, and generally help you relax after this is done. Right now, you seem to be winding tighter by the minute. 

Remus comes back in, and James looks over to find your bottom lip trapped cruelly between your teeth. Your expression looks almost pained. 

“Honey…” he murmurs. 

Remus and Sirius look up in alarm as your eyes line with silver. 

“Hey, baby, it’s okay.” Sirius pushes off from the desk, sitting on your other side and winding an arm around your waist. “You’re fine, this’ll only take a second.” 

You give a little sob, reality setting in. James sees the surprise and anguish he’s feeling reflected on Sirius’ face as the other boy kisses above your eyebrow. 

Remus’ expression is carefully calm as he approaches, holding up an antiseptic wipe like a symbol of peace. “Just breathe,” he says, voice soft and slow as he pushes up your sleeve. You watch his every move, every one of the muscles beneath James’ hand tense. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. In just a little bit we’ll be sending you home with Jamie, yeah?” 

He picks up the vaccine, and you suck in a breath, pressing into James’ side to get away from it. “Wait wait wait,” you say in a rush, voice tipping up with panic as tears spill over your waterline. James' heart veritably shatters. He feels it happening in his chest, but they’ve all dealt with patients like this before. Waiting doesn’t help anything. 

“You’re fine,” Sirius promises you, helping Remus to hold your arm still while James shields your vision with his hand. “Don’t look, you’re okay.” 

James doesn’t watch the needle go in, but he hears your reaction, a wet inhale that catches in your throat followed by a torturous whimpering sound. 

He presses a kiss to your hair, whispering a quick, “You’re good, lovie.” 

Remus hums in quiet agreement. A moment later he’s setting the syringe back down on his tray, replacing the spot with a plaster. James lets his hand drop, and Sirius cheers as Remus rubs small, sympathetic circles over the spot with his thumb. 

“You did it, gorgeous!” He pecks you on the cheek, mindless of its dampness. “You’re done.” 

Another tiny sob breaks out of you, and Remus’ brow creases pityingly. He touches his lips gently over the plaster on your arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize quite how nervous you were.” 

You sniffle. “It’s okay,” you say. Your voice comes out a bit frayed, and both James and Sirius coo in sympathy. 

“My poor girl,” the latter whines. He tugs you away from James’ hold, clearly fed up with not doing his fair share for your physical comfort. “I thought you were just peeved with us. I didn’t know they made you that freaked, sweetness. You did amazing.” 

“You really did so well.” James thumbs under your lashes, collecting water on his thumbnail. “You were so brave.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” you mumble, growing sullen again. 

“We’re not, dovey, we’re not.” Remus rubs up and down on your arm placatingly. At this rate, James thinks, you won’t have any muscle pain at all. “This is more difficult for some people than others. It seems like it's really difficult for you, and I’m proud of you for getting through it. Alright?” 

He’s looking at you intently, waiting for you to confirm you understand. You go a bit shy under his gaze. “Okay,” you acquiesce softly. 

“Good.” Remus kisses your forehead. “You’re all done here, so you two can head home. If you start to feel ill or odd at all say something to Jamie, alright?” 

“I’ve got her,” James reassures them both, hopping down from the table. Sirius holds you still a moment longer, kissing the same spot Remus had before letting you go. You slot under James' arm like you always do, like it’s where you’re meant to be. “We’ll text you pictures of all the ice cream we eat and films we watch while you’re working.” 

“Fuck off,” Sirius laughs. It catches, and you chuckle softly. The sound makes all three of them breathe a sigh of relief. 

James squeezes you with his arm around your shoulders as he walks you out. 

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ Home, For Christmas

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.3K

☆ ━ warnings: subtle talks of dani’s bitchass homophobic dad what’s new

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: in honor of gameday 🫡sorry this took so long you guys!!!! hopefully the next one won’t lol ALSO! y’all i wrote julia in for a reason, she will end up being important :)

CHRISTMAS DAY at her grandparents’ house is always cozy and warm, filled with laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine. Dani’s family fills the living room, sprawled across couches, perched on armchairs, and gathered around the fireplace. Her aunts and uncles are trading stories, her little cousins are running around in holiday pajamas, and there’s a pile of presents under the tree, each one wrapped in brightly colored paper.

Dani sits in the corner of the couch, balancing her youngest aunt Julia’s newborn, Grey, in her lap. She’s been fawning over him all day, enchanted by his tiny fingers and the little yawns he lets out every now and then. His downy dark hair sticks up at odd angles, and his soft little hands rest against her arm as she holds him, his eyes drifting closed with that peaceful look babies seem to have mastered.

Julia, who’s only twenty-five and just as warm and lovely as Dani remembers from her childhood, sits beside her, watching Dani with a smile. “You’ve got the magic touch, Dani,” she says, nudging her gently. “He hasn’t fallen asleep for anyone else yet today.”

Dani grins, glancing down at Grey as he lets out a tiny sigh. “Guess he knows I’m his favorite already,” she jokes, stroking the baby’s soft cheek.

Julia shifts a little, leaning back against the couch, and after a moment, she glances sideways at Dani. “How’s your dad been doing?” she asks quietly, her tone careful.

Dani rolls her eyes, her expression slipping into something neutral. “It’s… whatever,” she says, keeping her voice low. “We don’t really talk much.”

Julia nods, understanding written all over her face. “Yeah. Me neither.” There’s a heaviness to her voice, and Dani knows why. Julia is certainly not married to Grey’s father, him having left long before Grey was born. It’s something that Dani’s dad has shamed Julia for, his conservative views casting his half sister as some kind of disgrace. Dani’s heard the things he’s said about her—heard him scoff at Julia’s life choices like they were some kind of moral failure.

She looks at Julia, her heart aching for her. “I’m sorry,” Dani says quietly. “He’s like that with everything, not just you.”

Julia lets out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting to Grey, who’s now fully asleep, his little face relaxed and peaceful. “I know,” she murmurs. “But it still sucks. I just wish he could see… it’s not like I planned for things to turn out this way. But I love Grey. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She smiles down at her son, her expression soft and full of love. “It’s just a difficult situation.”

Dani nods, her throat tight. “Yeah. I get it.” She glances down at Grey, feeling the familiar warmth in her chest. She doesn’t understand why her dad has to be so harsh, so unwilling to forgive. She’s been on that side of things when her own secret came to light, and when that same judgment had been turned on her, it was terrible.

Dani adjusts her grip on Grey, who shifts a little in his sleep, tiny fingers curling around the edge of her sweater.

After a moment, Julia speaks again, her voice soft. “So… are you and Paige still not talking?” she asks, her tone careful, but curious. “Last I heard, you two weren’t friends anymore.”

Dani’s stomach tightens a little, her gaze shifting to the floor. Julia’s met Paige plenty of times—Paige was practically family, as far as her grandparents and aunts were concerned. Dani can still remember how much her mom adored Paige, how her mom used to say that Paige was the best thing to happen to her, that Paige brought out this light in her daughter that she hadn’t seen in anyone else. It’s something that, in her quiet moments, Dani clings to—thinking that maybe her mom really would have understood her situation.

“Paige was always so sweet,” Julia continues, almost wistfully. “And I remember how much your mom loved her, Dani. She always said Paige was the best friend you could ever have.”

Dani sighs, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her chest tightens with the urge to spill everything—to tell Julia about how it was so much more than just friendship, how Paige is basically her entire world, how they love each other in a much different way than most know. Dani knows Julia isn’t homophobic, and she can’t imagine Julia judging her, especially after everything Julia herself has been through with her dad and such.

But the words catch in her throat. Her fear is too strong, a familiar, icy weight. She imagines what would happen if anything she said got back to her dad, even by accident. She remembers the camp, the isolation, the way it felt like she was being slowly erased. The thought of going back there makes her stomach twist with dread.

She takes a slow breath, then finally says, “No, we’re still not friends.” Her voice is flat, and she hates how empty it sounds. “And we’re… we’re not ever going to be friends again.”

Julia frowns, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Dani’s arm. “I’m sorry, Dani. That must be so hard. Losing a friend like that… I can only imagine.”

Dani just nods, swallowing back the ache in her throat. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Grey, who’s still blissfully asleep. “It is.”

Julia gives her a soft smile, a silent offer of comfort, but Dani barely notices, her mind drifting to thoughts of Paige. She feels like she’s buried that love as deeply as she can—hidden it away in a place where her dad and the church can’t touch it.

And she’s going to stay that way. Because that is what is going to keep it safe.

DANI SINKS into her blankets, watching Christmas Vacation play on her laptop, the warmth of the bed comforting against the bite of winter outside. She’d asked her dad to watch the movie with her, hoping for at least a little shared Christmas cheer, but he’d just brushed her off with a brief mutter of how tired he was. So here she is, alone, her room dimly lit, a quiet feeling of loneliness settling in.

The Griswold family is just finishing fitting their huge Christmas tree in their living room when Dani’s phone lights up beside her. She glances down and finds Paige’s name on her screen. Her heart does a little flip as she picks it up, biting back a smile.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

You home yet?

Dani ❤️‍🔥

yeah i got home like an hour ago

Paige ❤️‍🔥

you doing anything?

Dani pauses, glancing at her screen.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

watching christmas vacation in my bed

She sends the message and internally cringes a little as she realizes how lonely it sounds.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

By yourself?

Come over and watch it with me and my fam

Dani laughs softly, rolling her eyes. Of course Paige wouldn’t let her stay alone, not tonight. Paige always has that unwavering energy, that impulsive streak that Dani has never been able to resist.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

paige my dad’s home

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Sneak out!!!

I’ll come get you by your window

Dani stares at the screen, a little stunned, a little thrilled. Her fingers hover over the screen, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

you’re insane

Paige ❤️‍🔥

And yet ur not saying no 😁😁

A grin tugs at Dani’s lips, and she feels her pulse quicken. She glances at her door, hoping and praying for her sake that her dad was true on his word and that he’s asleep, then quietly swings her legs off the bed. Closing her laptop, she grabs her thickest hoodie from her chair, pulling it over her head. She finds her Uggs under the bed, slipping them on and making her way to the window, heart pounding in anticipation. Her fingers fumble a bit as she undoes the lock, the cold air hitting her face the moment she slides it open.

Peering outside, she feels her heart skip as she spots Paige standing below. Paige is bundled up in her coat, hands deep in her pockets, and despite the shivering, she’s grinning up at Dani like this is the most natural thing in the world. Snow has started to fall again, gentle flakes catching in Paige’s hair and dusting her shoulders. She looks really pretty.

“Hey!” Paige calls up softly, her voice a mix of excitement and impatience. “You comin’ down, or what?”

Dani can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. She leans out a little, gripping the window frame for balance. “This is so stupid, you know that?” she whispers, trying not to laugh too loud.

Paige just shrugs, her grin undeterred. “Live a little!”

Dani laughs softly, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. She glances down, assessing the climb, feeling a pang of nervousness when she sees just how far the ground looks. Her window isn’t exactly low, and she can’t be sure the snow is soft. She swallows, feeling her pulse quicken as she considers her next move.

“Paige,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice down but still sounding panicked, “I’m going to fall!”

“If you do, I’ll catch you!” Paige whispers back, her voice carrying a confidence that only makes Dani’s heart beat faster. “Besides, there’s like a foot of fresh snow down here. You’ll be fine.”

Paige waves, motioning for her to climb down. Dani takes a deep breath, telling herself she’s done more dangerous things in her life than sneaking out of her own house. She slowly climbs through the window, her fingers gripping the cold edges of the siding as she carefully makes her way down. She’s almost to the bottom, just a couple of feet away from the ground, when her foot slips on the last ledge.

She lets out a small yelp, her fingers losing their grip, and she starts to tumble. There’s a split second of weightlessness, her heart in her throat, and then Paige’s arms are around her, just enough to slow her fall before they both collapse into the snow in a heap. The impact sends a puff of snow up around them, freezing and soft at the same time. Dani’s breath catches as she feels Paige’s arms around her, the warmth of her body cutting through the biting cold.

For a moment, they just lie there in the snow, laughing softly, breathless and tangled together. Their faces are close, so close that Dani can feel Paige’s breath against her cheek, warm and sweet, mingling with the cold night air. Paige’s cheeks are flushed pink, her nose red from the cold, and there’s a light in her eyes that makes Dani’s heart skip a beat.

Paige reaches up, brushing a few stray snowflakes from Dani’s face, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “You good?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Dani nods, her own cheeks flushed. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—their knees, their hands, the faint tremor in Paige’s touch as her fingers trace along Dani’s cheek. She shivers, but this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

Paige nods back, looking thoughtful, her hand dropping to swipe a bit of snow off Dani’s shoulder. She glances around, making sure no one’s watching, before leaning in. Her eyes search Dani’s face for a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, before she closes the distance, her lips brushing softly against Dani’s.

The kiss is barely more than a whisper, a featherlight touch that’s over almost as soon as it begins. But it leaves Dani breathless, her heart racing in her chest as she looks up at Paige. There’s a warmth in Paige’s eyes that makes Dani’s stomach flutter, a tenderness that feels like the best Christmas gift she’s ever received.

Paige pulls back, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Come on,” she whispers, her voice warm, filled with a quiet joy that Dani feels mirrored in her own chest. Paige helps her to her feet, brushing snow off their coats as they stand together, grinning like conspirators in the snowy silence.

They link arms, Paige’s hand slipping into Dani’s pocket to hold her hand, the feeling of Paige’s fingers warming her whole body up. Together, they start making their way toward Paige’s house, the snow crunching beneath their feet, their laughter echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

They go through the back door of Paige’s house, each of them letting out a relieved sigh as the warmth surrounds them, chasing away the icy chill of the Minnesota night. Dani takes a moment to close her eyes, basking in the feeling of warmth creeping back into her fingers and toes, the familiar smell of cookies, cinnamon, and evergreen filling the air.

There in the kitchen, Drew is perched on a stool by the island, his legs swinging idly as he chews on a Christmas cookie dusted with red and green sprinkles. Bob, Paige’s dad, stands near the stove, pulling sprinkles out of a cabinet. A tray of freshly baked cookies cools on the counter, the sweet scent drifting through the room. Bob’s face lights up when he sees Dani and Paige sneaking in, a broad grin stretching across his face.

“Dani! Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, waving her over as if she were his own daughter. “I saved a couple cookies for you, but they almost fell victim to that creature—” he points to Drew, who giggles at the wording, frosting dusting the corners of his mouth “—over there.”

Dani laughs, an easy grin drifting to her face as she says, “I can see that. Thanks for letting me come over; I didn’t mean to intrude on family Christmas.”

Paige rolls her eyes, her hand on Dani’s hip as she pushes her toward the island. “Shut up, Dan, you’re never intruding.”

“She’s right,” Bob says cheerily, grabbing a couple plain cookies from the tray and placing them in front of the two empty stools next to Drew. “You’re family, Dani.”

Dani feels her face flush at his words, and her chest warms, too. It’s nice to know that they’re glad she’s here, that they don’t feel as though she’s intruding, that maybe she really belongs in this corner of her world. She’d really, really like to.

Dani sits on the bar stool next to Drew, and Paige sits on the other one so the brunette girl is in between the two Bueckers siblings. However, it seems as though the small distance between Dani and Paige is too much, because Dani feels Paige’s hand graze her thigh as she grabs hold of the stool Dani’s sat on, pulling it so close to her own that the two of them are practically sharing a seat. Their shoulders press against each other, as do the sides of their legs, and it’s enough to send a warm jolt through Dani.

Dani sends a little look to Paige, her brows raised ever so slightly, smirk playing her lips.

“What?” Paige asks, though she’s got a look that mirrors the Callan girl’s. “You were too far.”

Dani just shakes her head at the blonde’s words, watching as she grabs the remote and flicks through the Christmas movies until she finds Christmas Vacation, having told Dani that she should watch it with them instead and holding onto her word.

Dani feels a smile lifting her lips as she reaches for a cookie in the tray in front of her, placing it on her plate. She grabs a piping bag, too, squeezing a tiny bit of green icing onto her finger just to get a taste.

“Oh, you’re gettin’ into the icing already?” Paige teases, leaning in with an arched brow. She grabs her own piping bag and, without warning, dabs a bit of red frosting on the tip of Dani’s nose, laughing as Dani’s eyes widen.

Dani gasps, swatting at her with a laugh. “Paige!” she exclaims, grabbing her green icing before leaning over and spreading some onto Paige’s cheek in retaliation.

Paige’s mouth open in mock outrage, but before she can protest herself, Drew interrupts with a grin, reaching for another piping bag, and asking, “Are we having an icing fight?”

The seven-year-old’s words seem to catch Bob’s attention, who turns from where he was watching the movie to see what’s happening behind him. Dani watches his eyes trail over the green on her nose and the red on his daughter’s cheek and he gives them a playfully stern look before telling Drew, “No, buddy, no icing fight. You’ll get on Santa’s Naughty List next year if you do.”

Drew laughs a little, pointing at the two girls sitting next to him and saying, “Ooh, Naughty List.”

Paige just playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother before grabbing a napkin. She dramatically uses it to wipe the red icing off of her cheek, before balling it up and tossing it back onto the island. Dani rolls her eyes at the blonde’s dramatics, reaching to grab her own napkin to clean up her nose. But Paige swats at the hand Dani was reaching. Dani sends Paige a look, watching as the girl beside her cautiously glances at her dad and Drew—whose attention’s have both been captured by the movie—before leaning in and grinning as she kisses the tip of Dani’s nose and then sticks her tongue out to lick the icing away. She pulls back and Dani’s sure her face is red—especially due to the proximity of Paige’s family—but Paige is just smiling mischievously, using her tongue to swipe away any remaining frosting on her lips.

Dani finally takes the liberty to actually decorate her cookie, deciding for the traditional Christmas tree route. She’s spreading the green icing along the sugar cookie carefully, her eyes occasionally flicking between Christmas Vacation and Paige decorating her own cookie. It’s more endearing to watch the latter—she’s decorating with exaggerated precision (though if Dani’s honest, she can’t tell what the glob of frosting is meant to look like… it might be an ornament), her tongue sticking out in concentration, her hair falling into her face ever so slightly. Dani flicks her eyes away, back to her own handiwork.

At one point, Paige leans over to whisper to Dani, “Look at Drew’s cookie… the sprinkles…”

Dani does as the blonde says, her gaze finding Drew, to the left of her. He’s humming quietly to himself, concentrating on drowning his cookie in red and green sprinkles, his fingers sticky and his cheeks dusted with sugar. Dani stifles a giggle as she leans in even closer to see the cookie piled high with so many sprinkles that it’s almost unrecognizable. She catches Paige’s eye, and they both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to let Drew hear.

“Hey, it’s nice!” Drew defends, noticing their stifled laughter.

From where he’s standing, Bob chuckles, watching the exchange with a fond smile. “You’re doing great, Drew,” he says, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair, eyes flicking across the three cookies the kids before him are making. “Though, I think you and Paige both have some competition in Dani here.”

Dani watches as Paige looks at her dad in betrayal, though it’s true—her cookie is terrible. Dani just grins, nodding, nudging Paige’s knee under the counter. “Years of practice,” the brunette says in a mock-serious tone before carefully adding a few more sprinkles to her cookie.

Paige rolls her eyes, mumbling, “Whatever. Mine tastes better.”

CHRISTMAS VACATION ended not too long ago, and Drew and Bob went upstairs to bed, leaving Dani and Paige alone. The warm glow of the tree casts a soft light over the living room, and Home Alone now plays quietly on the screen, adding to the late-night comfort. Dani’s curled up against Paige, the two of them snuggled under a thick fleece blanket, Paige’s arm wrapped securely around her. Dani lets herself drift, lulled by the movie, the warmth, the way Paige’s fingers trace soft circles over her shoulder.

But then Paige shifts slightly beneath her, murmuring, “So… I know we promised not to get each other anything…”

Dani’s eyes immediately flick from the TV to Paige, her brow furrowing as she pulls back slightly, a hint of accusation in her gaze. “Tell me you didn’t get me something.”

Paige, looking a little sheepish, averts her eyes and rubs the back of her neck, mumbling, “Well…”

“Paige!” Dani sits up fully now, her voice holding a mixture of surprise and mild reproach. “We promised not to!”

“I know, I know!” Paige protests, her face flushed as she tries to defend herself. “And I wasn’t going to, I swear! But then I was at the mall literally yesterday, just doing some last-minute shopping for my family, and—” She pauses, looking a bit embarrassed but determined to explain. “I saw this thing that really reminded me of you…”

Dani sighs, her shoulders dropping a little as she shakes her head. “Paige…”

“I know,” Paige says quickly, hands lifted in a half-hearted attempt at appeasement. “But it was on sale because of the holidays! I hardly spent any money on it.”

Dani narrows her eyes, trying not to let the affection she feels soften her mock glare. “Still. I feel bad. If I’d known you’d gotten me something, I would’ve gotten you something.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Paige says, shaking her head earnestly. “I was the one who went against our promise, not you.”

They fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the movie on the TV. Dani’s gaze flickers to Paige, whose face is shadowed in the dim light. There’s something vulnerable in the way Paige looks at her, something almost tentative, and it makes Dani’s heart ache in a way she can’t quite name.

Finally, Paige speaks up again, her voice soft. “Can I go get it?”

Dani nods, and Paige disentangles herself from their cozy nest of blankets, slipping upstairs while Dani stays on the couch, her mind racing a little. She knows Paige put thought into this, that whatever it is, it’s going to mean something.

Moments later, Paige is bounding down the stairs again, a tiny jewelry box held carefully in her hand. She pauses by the couch, her gaze flickering between the box and Dani, and Dani watches her, heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and warmth.

“Here,” Paige says softly, holding out the box as she sits back down beside Dani, even closer than before, their entire sides pressed up against each other.

Dani takes the box, feeling the slight weight of it in her hands, and slowly lifts the lid. Inside is a delicate silver necklace, the pendant small and simple—almost nondescript, but close up she can see the engraving on it, the tiny, intricate letters that spell out a single word: home.

Dani’s breath catches as she stares down at the pendant, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifts it. She can feel her throat tighten, emotion welling up inside her as the weight of the word hits her fully. It’s more than a necklace; it’s a message, a reminder of everything Paige has been to her, a promise that wherever Paige is, she’ll always have a place to belong.

She glances up at Paige, her eyes stinging, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you really thought of me when you saw this?”

Paige nods, her gaze soft and steady, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against Dani’s. “Yeah,” she says, her voice equally soft, almost like she’s afraid of breaking the moment. “I know things have been… hard, with your dad and everything. I just… I wanted you to have something that reminds you that you’ll always have a home with me. No matter what.”

Dani feels the tears slip down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. She just lets the words sink in, lets herself feel the weight of Paige’s thoughtfulness, her kindness, the unwavering support Paige always seems to offer, even when Dani feels like she doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Paige moves closer, pulling Dani into a hug, her arms wrapping securely around her. She rests her chin on top of Dani’s head, her fingers gently stroking her back, and Dani melts into her, closing her eyes and breathing in Paige’s familiar scent.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs into her hair, her voice soft and steady, filled with a warmth that wraps around Dani like a blanket.

Dani’s own arms tighten around Paige, and she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Then, slowly, Paige pulls back, her gaze meeting Dani’s, and there’s a question in her eyes, one Dani answers by leaning in, pressing her lips softly to Paige’s.

The kiss is gentle, almost tentative at first, a quiet meeting of emotions unspoken. But as the seconds stretch, Dani lets herself get lost in it, her hand slipping up to rest against Paige’s cheek, her fingers brushing along her jaw. Paige’s hand finds the small of Dani’s back, pulling her in closer, and Dani feels her heart pounding, the warmth of Paige’s touch grounding her, steadying her.

When they finally pull back, their faces are close, their breaths mingling, and Dani can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that’s soft and true, filled with a happiness she rarely allows herself to feel.

Paige grins back, her fingers brushing over Dani’s cheek as she murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

Dani’s voice is quiet, but full of warmth. “Merry Christmas, Paige.”

[un-petit-sanctuaire]

Night Ride

Pairing: Sylus x f!MC

Genre: Fluff

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You were stressing out over your work, so Sylus decided to take you on a joyride on his motorcycle that night.

Author’s Note: It’s my first Love and Deepspace fic! I’d say it’s set not long after around Nightplumes. Anyway, I haven’t written in a while, so please excuse any rustiness. Also, English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes kindly. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Constructive criticism and feedback are very welcome! I’d really appreciate them to help me write better in the future. Last but not least, happy reading. ♡

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

You were pacing back and forth in Sylus’s living room that evening, a bunch of files and documents spread around you on the floor. The owner of the house himself was sitting in a nearby armchair, his hands nonchalantly flipping today’s Linkon newspaper you brought him. On his shoulder, a familiar mechanical crow sat, glancing between the newspaper and your restless movements.

Two days ago, the Association assigned you and your team a mission. The assignment was broken down into smaller individual tasks and divided equally among your team members. Yet, somehow, you felt your part was very challenging to figure out. Your assigned location was close to the N109 Zone, though—you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Feeling that your brain might explode for working outside alone, you decided to grace a certain white-haired man with your presence in his vicinity.

And that’s how you found yourself stressing out at Sylus’s home.

“That’s it,” his voice thundered, making you jump on the spot after what seemed to be an endless staring contest with the papers in front of you. Even Mephisto let out a sharp caw, flapping its wings as it flew off, startled by his master’s sudden break from the silence. Sylus rose from his seat, turning towards where he kept his keys before adding, “Let’s go, kitten.”

“... What?” You turned your attention from your papers towards him, eyebrows knitted.

“You should see the agitated look on your face. Your task isn’t going to resolve itself unless you have a clear mind.” With a casual flick of his finger, he sent his motorcycle keys spinning into his palm. “Let’s head outside.”

“But—”

“Do I look like I take no for an answer?”

Given how much time you’d spent together lately—no thanks to the energy linkage—you seemed to understand there was probably no room for debate with him under these circumstances. “Wait, where are we going? Can’t I just stay and do my work?” Despite your protests, you found yourself trailing after him, half-running to keep up with his long strides as he headed for the door.

“Somewhere to get some fresh air,” he replied without looking back at you. With another flick of his fingers, his jacket effortlessly landed over his shoulder. “I could use some too. Your little pacing game made my head spin.” He stopped outside in front of his bike, finally turning around to hand you your usual helmet. “And no, you’re still going whether you like it or not,” he declared. His sentence sounded like a threat, but his tone was somehow gentle.

You considered for a moment. He might have a point; you wouldn’t make any progress with your head clouded by frustration. Besides, your task wasn’t due any time soon, and after working on it all day long, you desperately needed to clear your mind. Normally you would argue, but your energy had already been drained from all the thinking. Sighing, you took the helmet from his hand and slipped it on. Your fingers fumbled, trying to fasten the buckle. Sylus let out a small scoff, stepping forward to help you click it into place.

As you settled behind him on the motorcycle, his eyes found yours in the reflection of the side mirror.

“Don’t be shy, sweetie. Hold on to me.”

You hesitated for a bit and ended up gripping his jacket, not quite fully clutching onto him. “Ease up on the speed, though,” you remarked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Oh? You get to tell the driver how to behave, now?” he shook his head, a subtle smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “Sure, I’ll keep it civil,” he replied, though you weren’t sure if he was being genuine or merely teasing you.

With a rev of the engine, he drove out of the side street and onto the main highway. The night sky above the N109 Zone hung in its usual dark and misty state, but the city lights gradually sprung to life around you. You inhaled the cool evening air, soaking in your surroundings. You were a biker yourself, but for once, it felt refreshing to be the passenger—especially since he always took the reins when the two of you rode his motorcycle.

You slowly became aware that you were heading towards Linkon. The highway stretched before you, nearly deserted, and the night enveloped you in a hush. The breeze rustled past, making your hair dance behind you.

The bike was gaining speed.

“Sylus,” you called, yanking his jacket lightly.

“Hm?”

The teasing tone in his hum was now evident.

“Don’t pretend that I don’t notice what you’re doing,” you retorted, the wind whipping fiercely around you.

“And what is it that I’m doing besides taking you for a ride?”

And as if on cue, the motorcycle roared, surging forward with a sudden burst of speed. The unexpected acceleration forced you to cling onto him for support to the point you were practically hugging him from the back, your fingers intertwined just below his stomach. “You’re doing this on purpose!” You half-shouted, your voice barely cutting through the rush of wind. “This was supposed to be a joyride, not a race!”

You couldn’t quite discern his response, but the side mirror reflected another smug smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You rolled your eyes. Oh, how you longed to wipe that smirk off his face. Speeding could be dangerous; what if a cat or some other creature suddenly crossed your path? You had no doubt he was far exceeding the speed limit. Luckily, the road was now completely empty. It also dawned on you that you weren’t heading into the center of Linkon, but rather veering towards the outskirts.

He slowed down as the bike left the main road and entered a slightly narrower one. “Don’t tell me Miss Hunter herself never accelerates?” he finally said, amusement lacing his tone.

“I’m a law-abiding citizen,” you rebutted, not quite answering his question. You did, in fact, once or twice speed up when you needed to arrive early for urgent missions. However, you were sure as hell it had never been as fast as Sylus was driving just now. “I mean, it was thrilling, but—”

“A-ha.”

He snickered, cutting you off. “I think someone is enjoying the ride more than they’re letting on,” his sing-songy tone made you roll your eyes again. “She’s practically holding onto me for dear life.”

Looking down, you realized your arms were still encircling his waist.

You quickly let go, straightening your posture behind him. “Because I was afraid I would be thrown off with that speed of yours, that’s why,” you said, pinching his side in an attempt to hide your own fluster at being caught off-guard. “It just seemed dangerous,” you mumbled.

“Careful, sweetie, no pinching the driver now,” he teased. As if reading your mind, he added with unexpected seriousness, “Your safety always comes first. We’ll be fine as long as I have good reflexes and solid bike-handling skills, which, lucky for you, I actually do.” Another smirk was visible from behind his visor, reflected in the mirror. “Besides, did you forget that I can use my Evol to secure you in place?”

You decided to ignore his remarks. Pretty sure the more you took the bait, the more amused he would be.

You noticed the road ascending towards the hill, and soon you found yourselves leaving the city behind and entering a somewhat wooded area.

“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?”

Your question elicited a chuckle from him. “You are powerful enough to knock me down when I’m distracted, and you could easily run off with my bike, leaving me here alone,” he said casually. “What makes you think I’d be kidnapping you? No, kitten, I’m not. Aren’t you curious to know what I have planned?”

He sounded almost giddy that your brows furrowed, half-annoyed.

“Very, actually,” you snorted, growing impatient. Was teasing you his way of taking your mind off work? “But as if you’ll actually tell me what it is.”

Sylus cackled. “Correct. You’ll have to suffer with anticipation, just like always.”

You restrained yourself from launching a punch at his shoulder. The area around you grew darker, with hardly any light in sight except for Sylus’s motorcycle and the occasional flicker from the lampposts. “Well, the breeze is getting rather cold,” you complained. You were only wearing your trusted white cropped jacket, while he was comfortably clad in leather.

There was a pause before he replied rather thoughtfully, “Stick close to me.”

You scooted forward, inching slightly closer to him. You heard him add, “We’re almost there.”

The bike eventually came to a halt a few minutes later. You dismounted, placing your helmet on the seat. Sylus followed suit, ruffling his silver hair back into place. You were probably going to involuntarily stare if the landscape before you didn’t capture your attention.

“Oh, wow...”

You took in your surroundings as you stood at the top of a hill, gazing out over the twinkling city below. The sky was a deep, rich shade of navy blue, dotted with shimmering stars. Linkon was clearly visible from up here; the illuminated skyscrapers flickered like fireflies, casting a warm glow against the darkness.

“Impressed?”

Sylus’s tall figure towered beside you. You glanced at him, expecting to find a smug expression there to show you an I-told-you-so look. However, while the corners of his lips did curl upward, his gaze remained soft, overlooking the gleaming city.

You were about to pester him, ‘Oh, even the big, scary leader of Onychinus can get sappy over things like this?’ but somehow the words stayed lodged in your throat.

“I am,” was all you could manage to utter. “I never knew we could see the entire city from up here.”

“I come here a lot whenever I need a break or want to be alone,” he nodded. “Just looking down at the city makes me feel at ease.”

Were you hallucinating, or did he seem a bit more sentimental than usual?

You felt his red irises shift from the scenery towards you.

Quickly, you turned your head away from him back to the view stretched beyond. “Oh, well,” you cleared your throat. “I didn’t know you could feel stressed too. You always seem... collected.”

Sylus laughed heartily. There was a pause before he replied, “I only do what I need to do.” He slid his hands into his pockets as if his words held no weight, leaving you to ponder for a moment.

The cold wind swept between you once again, prompting you to inch a little closer to him. It was really not that bad, but you hugged your arms for some warmth.

“... Thanks for bringing me here,” you muttered.

He noticed you creeping towards him, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, without averting his gaze from the city lights below, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you closer to share his warmth. You were surprised you didn’t object or retreat—his presence felt oddly nice and comforting.

“You’re welcome, kitten.”

There were a few seconds of comfortable silence between you. Linkon was rather quiet that night—whether it was because you were quite far from the city center or because everyone else was already in a deep slumber. The only sounds that reached your ears were the delicate breeze rustling through the bushes and the distant hum of car engines.

“You’re right. This place is perfect for clearing your mind,” you spoke after what felt like a pregnant pause.

“It indeed is,” he replied. “You know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

The air felt warm, a stark contrast to the cold wind earlier. Or perhaps it was just your cheeks? “Not even Luke and Kieran? Or Mephisto?” You quickly covered it up and asked rather amusedly.

“Especially not the twins,” he chuckled. “Last time they discovered my hideout, things went chaotic. I take it you know them well enough now?”

The corners of your lips twitched upwards.

He then continued, “Mephisto would be a great companion, yes, if only he didn’t get too territorial and challenge the local birds to a boxing match. You saw how he was last time during our video call when I was in the park.”

You laughed—a genuine laugh after waves of frustration throughout the whole day. It felt warm and fuzzy, but it didn’t quite fight another blow of the cold gust. Up here definitely felt colder due to the high elevation. You fully folded your arms this time.

“Cold?” you heard Sylus ask.

“A little,” you allowed yourself to approach him closer. Half your back was now covered by his towering frame. You noticed him shifting, positioning his body to block the chilly breeze, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

You tilted your head upwards slightly to see his face. He wasn’t looking back at you; his eyes seemed glued to the illuminated city below. Only then did you realize how soft he looked, a striking contrast to the way he had presented himself during your first encounter. You couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind. Was he thinking about...?

“You know, most people would be enjoying the view from up here,” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “But someone would rather stare at my face, apparently.”

This was the second time that night you realized you were staring at him. You turned your head, frantically searching for something else to look at from the glimmering Linkon.

“Yes, sweetie, the scenery is over there.”

You could feel he was grinning.

“Shut up.”

Perhaps it was another gust of wind that made you press your back against his chest, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t move, but his arm was still protecting you—practically hugging you from behind now with his hand reaching across your neck. A light chuckle escaped his lips when hearing your response, and you could feel his head leaning downwards. “No denying?”

“Not answering,” you muttered. You tried not to turn your head towards him, knowing that your faces would be only inches apart.

There was another chuckle before he called you in a low murmur.

“Kitten.”

His free hand glided from his pocket to your chin, delicately coaxing your head to face him. His touch felt so careful—so cautious as if he feared you would push him away or break or explode. You could even barely feel his finger graze your skin.

“... Hm?”

Once again, somehow, you obliged without protest. You looked at him; his face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. His crimson eyes locked onto you, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze this time. Only a few centimeters separated your face from his. You could feel your cheeks flush once again, your heart thumping faster than usual.

“I was right,” he uttered quietly. A smirk adorned the corner of his lips, but his eyes were tender.

Your answer was barely audible when you murmured, “About what?”

“I knew you were staring at me and not the city view,” he spoke in a soft whisper. His face was very near now that you could feel his nose lightly grazed yours, his breath warm against your skin. With such closeness, you realized how nice he smelled, how the faint radiance bathed his face, how his silvery strands fluttered and danced with the breeze.

You glanced down at his lips for a split second before darting your eyes back, locking them with his again.

“Three times now,” he breathed, catching you again. “Admit defeat, kitten...”

“... Fine.” You swore you could hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears by now. One small move forward and—

“Fine, you’re right,” you repeated.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath—your mind hazy from his proximity.

“Kitten?”

“... Yeah?”

His fingers still held your chin in place, his eyes never left yours, and his other arm remained wrapped around you. Perhaps it was his body acting like a shield, or perhaps the cold breeze ceased to exist, but you were almost sure you felt blanketed with warmth. You could feel your heart quicken, the anticipation hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

“May I...?”

Very subtly, your head nodded, and your eyes gave him the signal.

With that, Sylus closed the distance between you, and your lips met delicately. The world around you faded into a gentle hum, the city lights twinkling like distant stars as you closed your eyes. His lips were surprisingly warm, a tender caress you never expected from someone like him. The warmth radiating from him enveloped you, making you forget the chill of the night air as you melted into his kiss.

For the first time in two days, you gladly decided to ignore your work.

And perhaps scheduling future night rides with him wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

[scudslut]

A New Years Surprise 🎀

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, poorly written smut, oral (fem-receiving), unprotected p in v, porn with some plot lol

a/n: i know i’m a little late but happy new years everyone!:) thought i’d start off on the right foot this year with some Daryl lovin<3 also don’t mind my writing i’m just getting back into it so i’m a bit rusty:/

“God, you’re such a dumbass,” you muttered to yourself, cringing at the reflection staring back at you.

Currently, you were a mess.

Tonight was Alexandria’s supposed ‘New Years Eve’ celebration, like we actually had anything to celebrate or look forward to.

There were always those few people you’d come across over the years, that had somehow managed to keep track of the time passed and as it turns out, Alexandria’s people were very serious when it came to sticking to the old worlds holidays and traditions.

Hell, they’d host parties and backyard shindigs on a regular bases, no prompt needed.

It was bizarre, and even after a full year living here, you still weren’t used to it.

Deep down, a small sliver of you agreed that it was something special about this place. That it somehow kept the hopeful humanity glimmering inside the residents. But the larger, much more sceptical side of you, couldn’t help but notice the flaws of the idea and the dangers of false hope.

Or maybe it was just because you looked fucking ridiculous trying to play dress up.

Either way, you hated the celebrations.

This one in particular though, caught you off guard.

You hadn’t payed much attention to New Years before the world ended, and just assumed that would be the same now; but when you caught wind of the party, you felt your stomach bubble in excitement.

And for one reason only.

Daryl.

You knew Daryl was an absolute sucker for dainty dresses and lingerie and you hadn’t ever gotten the chance to wear something like that for him. But a few days prior, you had stumbled across a small shopping mall on run and found this adorable matching light pink set and had to stuff it away in case the opportunity to surprise him presented itself.

Well, here it was.

And man was that excitement rapidly turning into a full blown panic attack.

Running your fingers through your hair haphazardly, you studied your appearance in the mirror.

You’d only so far put on the lingerie and a small black skirt and you already felt confined and self conscious. The straps weren’t sitting right, the cups of your bra were too big, causing weird awkward gaps.

Sighing, you close your eyes in defeat, resting your head in your hands.

This was just awful.

You could already hear the beginnings of the party going, music and laughter flowing in through your slightly cracked window and it only caused you to sink further into yourself.

You felt your mind slip into your self deprecating thoughts as you began to tune out the world around you, missing the soft creaks of footsteps on the wooden floored hallway.

The door of your shared room was wide open, as it was only the two of you that occupied the small house.

Daryl took you in for a moment, leaning against the doorframe observing your defeated aura silently.

He immediately knew what was bothering you, he could read you like a book at this point. He crept up behind you, gently touching your shoulder as to not frighten you from your thoughts.

Jumping slightly, your eyes flew open and landed on those deep familiar blue ones you adored, staring back at you through the mirror.

His natural scent caught your nose and your body subconsciously began to ease, slumping back into his chest.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” you whisper to him as you notice his eyes drift down your body.

You wrap your arms around yourself, not wanting him to see your failed attempt at a surprise and be disappointed.

You should have known he’d be quicker than you.

“Not so fast, baby,” he says, catching your arms before they can fully shield your torso from him and twisted you around to face him.

“It’s nothing, really Daryl, I-I don’t even know what I was thinking,” you mumble feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

That’s when you notice the dark, lustful glimmer in his eyes and awed expression clear as day on his features.

Oh. He likes it.

Heat pooled in your stomach.

Daryl bunches the fabric of your dainty skirt in his hand contemplatively, drawing it up ever so slowly and tucking it into the waist band to keep you exposed.

You could feel his eyes wander your skin, like soft breathy kisses, from finger tips to the dip of your collar bones.

Your breathe catches as you feel the faintest pressure on your dripping cunt.

“This all fer me?” He whispers, slowly sliding his middle finger from the wet patch on your panties to the tiny pink bow at the hem.

He finger dips into the waist when he doesn’t hear your response, and snaps it back against your skin.

“Y-yes Dar,” you gasp.

Of course it was for him, you were his and he damn well knew that, but he simply couldn’t help himself from asking time to time.

He continued to toy with the bow thoughtfully, letting his finger tips graze over the sensitive skin there. Over your hip bones, stomach, and down to your inner thighs, never allowing too much pressure so it felt like soft tickles.

He enjoyed to watch you pant and writhe. Liked the way your skin would erupt in goosebumps every place he touched.

He was a hunter after all.

He could spend hours playing with every detail of you, work you up until you have tears welling in your eyes and your cunt was practically pulsing.

Though you’d beg and plead for him to stop, to give you what you need, he knew you loved it.

And so did he.

Daryl Dixon was a tease.

“Wanted to surprise you after the party,” you manage to squeak out and his gaze finally meets yours.

“Did ya now?” he mocks, walking you backwards till the back of your knees hit the bed and you take a seat at the edge. He looms over you, thumb grazing your bottom lip and you simply nod back at him.

“Well, ya can be certain there ain’t gonna be no party anymore,” he growls, staring you down like you had offended him somehow.

He harshly grips your hips, pulling them till your ass was practically hanging off the edge and drops down to his knees before you, spreading your legs to make room for himself.

All you can do is watch him, mouth parted open as he manhandles you however he pleases.

“And where did ya find somethin’ so pretty, hm?” he questions gruffly, once again rubbing his thumb over the wet patch forming on your panties.

You lean back on your arms, dropping your chin to watch his movements.

“I-uh, on a run the other day,” you huff, your words stuttering in excitement and anticipation.

Daryl only hums in response, as he dips his fingers and pulls them to the side, exposing you fully to him.

He barely gives you a second to register his actions before he’s dropping his head between your thighs, licking a long strip across your soaked cunt.

Your body jolts in surprised pleasure, your right hand flying to grip his soft brown locks as he laps at your clit.

Moaning loudly, your hips rock into him as he continues to lick and suck, lost in the taste of you.

“Oh god,” you whimper. Your arms are shaking behind you, ready to give out any second as you watch Daryl devour you like you were his last meal on earth.

He always looked so damn pretty, eyes closed and entrapped between your thighs.

He lifts his head, groaning at the sight of you and begins trailing kisses over your hips and down your inner thighs.

“Sweet girl,” he mumbles between kisses, “always thinkin’ bout me, huh?”

Your eyes roll back as you sink to your elbows, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“Asked you a question, baby,” he nips at your skin causing a soft sting.

“Always Dar,” you pant, rolling your hips into him again. Your body was pulsing with lust and Daryl could sense how needy you were for him, like it had been weeks without his touch and honestly, it felt like that for him too.

He was about ready to cum in his jeans at the sight of you alone. Legs spread for him, pupils blown wide while you panted and moaned noisily just for him to hear.

Trailing his lips back up, he grips your waist stilling your movements, “What do ya need from me, hm?”

Your mind blanks for a moment, surprised by his uncharacteristic generosity. He was never this quick to give you what you need, always wanting to drag your pleasure for miles and miles until each pretty sound you could possibly make filled his ears.

“Come on now, or do you want me to decide for ya?” he asks again and you quickly shake your head, grabbing him by the shoulders and scooting back until you both were at the top of the bed.

As he lands above you, arms on each side of your head, you finally feel him and how hard he already was.

Rocking into him suggestively, “You know what I need,” you whisper.

Daryl groans from the friction, dropping his head to your shoulder and rutting into you further, chasing your movements.

You hadn’t seen him this worked up and responsive in a long time, and god were you loving it.

You pull his head up to face you and crash your lips onto his, hands finding his belt trying to discard him of it as fast as you possibly can. Daryl’s a panting mess above you, “Baby are you tryna kill me?” he groans when he feels your hands brush against his cock as you attempt to rid him of his jeans.

All you can do is whimper into his mouth as you struggle, and he kicks them down and off the bed.

He grabs you hands and pulls them above you, pinning them down as he begins to attack your neck with bites and kisses.

“Please Dar,” you whine, “need you now.”

“I know baby, I know,” he coos, attempting to soothe you as he draws your skirt and panties down your legs.

You begin tearing at his vest, needing to feel him closer to you, as close as he could possibly get. You feel him chuckle against you, “So eager for me, are ya?” as he lines himself up with your aching core, teasing you even more.

Taking him by surprise, you crush his hips into yours, filling yourself to the hilt all at once. You gasp from from the mixture of pain and pleasure, as Daryl all but whines into your mouth.

“Oh shit, fuck me,” he groans as he begins to slam into you at a bruising pace. You claw at his shoulders, rocking your hips to match his fast movements.

“Just love this cock, don’t ya?” he grunts, lifting one of your legs around his waist to drive into you even deeper.

You felt your brain cloud over, unable to think about anything other than him, drunker on his cock than you’d been from any night of drinking you’d partaken to in the past.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, darling. What did I ask ya?” he repeats, slowing his hips to sensual rolls, so it only stroked that cord in your stomach but kept it from building any further.

“God yes,” you moan, matching his slow but absolutely delicious pace.

Daryl is a groaning mess in your ears as your bodies dance a synchronized rhythm together, moulding into each other like pieces of a puzzle.

His hand snakes between you two, finding your clit easily and he begins to stroke you gently, allowing the fire in your abdomen to build rapidly.

“Oh Dar,” you moan and Daryl only picks up the pace, chasing after his own high to experience with you. Your clutching to him for dear life as he pounds into you quickly, grunting and groaning quiet praises about how good you feel.

You can tell he’s close when his hips start to stutter and shake, losing his rhythm slightly and you finally feel the cord break.

Your body floods with ecstasy, cunt pulsing around him causing his high to come crashing over him with you. Waves of pleasure wash over you as you both come down, his hips slowing to a stop.

He rests his forehead down to yours while the both of you struggle to catch your breath. You feel Daryl start to chuckle against you and your eyes lazily drift open, “What?” you mumble, running your fingers slowly down his back.

“Never was a big fan of surprises before, but ya can bet your ass I am now.”

[dystopyx-blog]

as a Floyd enjoyer

I do read a LOT of octotrio posts.

Like a lot

so, as a yandere writer

time for yandere octotrio headcanons!

a lot of this will probably tie in for my ideas for my self insert and yandere posts I’ve written in the past!

it’s hard to say who was interested in you first. Either Azul was interested and sent the tweels on you, or the tweels were interested in you and then got azul interested and then azul sent the tweels on you, all I can say for certain is that at some point, someone is interested, and you get the tweels sent on you.

So you got the tweels following you around now. The two have different ways of studying. Floyd, of course, is more hands on. Jade typically stays back, taking EXTENSIVE mental notes. He mostly only gets involved when he can tell Floyd is getting a bit too… much for any one person to handle.

of course, then you have to deal with TWO tweels, and idc who you are, dealing with BOTH of them is way more to handle than just one of them. Like, one tweel is like 100%, but when those fuckers are working together it’s like at least 110%.

but… you seem to handle them really well somehow??

so whether it was Azul who was interested first, or they were interested from the very start, safe to say they are VERY interested in you now.

The tweels, despite being chaotic neutral at best (chaotic evil at worst) are still pretty goddamn loyal to Azul. So they eagerly report back to him (either to convince him or further convince him, again, doesn’t matter)

then this is where it gets really fun (for me)

I love the octotrio, and what I especially love is the mix of platonic and romantic. Like, ofc Floyd and Jade are purely familial. But when it comes to their relationship with Azul, it’s the kind of platonic that so fucking seamlessly shifts into romantic that no one is sure when it turned, and also no one cares. The octotrio blend so fucking seamlessly with each other, that they could even be purely platonic with each other, it could be less romance and more family, but an outsider would never fucking know or understand that. THE OCTOTRIO RELATIONSHIP/S ARE SO FUCKIN NOM NOM NOM I’M DEVOURING IT —

Ahem

anyway

point is, whether octotrio is a romantic poly or just three really fucking close friends, they all look at you and go “that one, we want that one.” And they don’t even have to vocally announce they want to share you, it is understood. There is no “all in favor say aye,” after a few times of the tweels reporting back to Azul they’re just all agreed “yes, this one is ours now, we are taking them for the seafood polycule.”

calamari, unagi, and shrimp, yum yum

ANYWAY

Expect the tweels on yo ass even more than before. Not only that, but they are FULLY embracing their statuses as fucking terrifying menaces to keep all your icky clingy friends away

Suddenly they’re paying extra close attention to your flaws. All of which they find endlessly endearing, what they’re really looking for is a chance to snap.

an insecurity, a life ending mistake, anything to get a chance to whisper in your ear that you need special help. Or maybe they’ll even use the fact they’re living up to their name and stick to you like leeches to convince you you need to talk to Azul

maybe you’re strong, maybe you can’t be fully convinced. Maybe once they do bring you to Azul (trust me, they will) you decide “nope, I’m out.” Thing is though, once they get you there, it’s already decided. Azul will know exactly how to trap you, exactly what to do to get you to come back, or even better, stay.

if you’re in Yuu’s shoes, I imagine he’d be willing to let you AND Grim live in the lounge. To make it less suspicious, he’ll probably say you have to work, or that he gets to use Ramshackle. Something to make sure you’re not suspicious why he’s suddenly so hospitable. But really, ramshackle or service are not what he’s after. Obviously. No, he needs you there, with them.

I don’t even really have to get into what these guys do as yanderes, since most students are already pretty frightened by the tweels. And now that they have someone to ‘protect’? HO BOI, do they REALLY give the student body to fear.

and if they get past Jade and Floyd, then there’s Azul, who will bribe or blackmail until they leave their darling alone.

yeah, sorry to say, once they have you in their sights, it’s pm over for you.

Doesn’t matter who saw you first, cuz you were doomed from the start either way.

GENERAL OCTOTRIO + READER HEADCANONS ❤️

Pleeeasassse I cannot get the image of octotrio dog pile outta my headdd. Azul, Jade, and Floyd are CUDDLY MOTHERFUCKERS, you cannot convince me otherwise. And once they have you, you’re joining. Typically Jade and Floyd both spoon Azul (you can’t convince me otherwise (or maybe you can, let’s talk)), and you’ll likely be sandwiched between Azul and whichever tweel called dibs that night. Or, it’s the true dog pile, where limbs are kind just all over the place. There’s typically a tweel at the bottom (cuz big bois), and that tweel is typically Jade because Floyd insists on being on top, despite his height and weight. And adding you just makes the dog pile feel so much fuller ❤️ (and if you’re one of those people like me who falls asleep better with like weight on top of you… yeah, you are not gonna be awake long enough to protest)

it may take a while for Azul to get comfortable enough to go full octomer on you, especially if you’re a darling who runs away, but once he does trust you enough, he will. And like… come on, I think we as a fandom agree that octo Azul is beautiful/adorable, so of course you do not react negatively to it, even if you’re a stubborn darling.

maybe you’re speechless, and Azul gets flustered and wants to ZOOM back to the surface, but the tweels hold him back, and thank god they do, because even if you aren’t screaming “omg you’re so cute/pretty!!” like I would, you probably mutter it under your breath, just loud enough that he definitely hears (did you know sound moves faster in water?) and he is a blushing cephaloboy. (Bet you didn’t think I’d bring SCIENCE into this, HA)

Suddenly now they’re also snuggling you in the water in med form, because yes these boys cuddle in med form, and you’re one of them now. Can’t breathe in water? Silly, they got magic for that. You are not getting out of this seafood pancake 🫵🫵

you are going to have so many limbs all over you omg. The tweels are trying their damndest to wrap their eel tails around the both of you, and Azul is keeping all of y’all together with his arms

(here’s another science fact, octopus do not have tentacles, those are arms)

AND DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE BREE—

[ineffable-suffering]

Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why.

Okay. I’m not gonna beat around the bush for too long. It’s time now for me to also throw my try at a personal Good Omens Season 2 Magnum Opus into the mix of already existing magnum op..i? Opusses? (Smited? Smote?)

If I’m honest, it isn’t fully my own magnum opus, as I read this meta not too long ago that made me go: „Oh! My God! That’s it!“ And I’m pretty sure a lot of other people have clocked this too by now. Of course I’m not saying it’s the objective truth but after having mulled it over for many endless nights and days, wading through the onslaught of coffee theories, body swap theories, The Metatron re-writing the Book of Life theories and many, many more, this is the one I think is most plausible and, if you look closely, most obvious.

And it goes as such: Aziraphale lied.

To all of us. All of them. And most of all, to Crowley. He lied to him. Well, he sort of did and also sort of didn’t. He certainly didn’t tell the truth. At least not all of it. I hear you ask: “OP, what the fuck are you talking about”. I answer you: Let’s start from the top and under the cut.

(Small note: this meta ended up being way too large for Tumblr, which is why I will redirect you to an external doc at the end of the post, where I have written it all down nicely and accurately. It's about 35 digital A4-pages long, just in case you want to save it for later.)

(Word count: 12.831 | Approximate reading time: 50 minutes)

Let’s start with a short recap of what happens before the Metatron crashes the bookshop party and everything goes to shit. The proper visuals for this are in my Tumblr post but I am absolutely convinced that right up until when the Metatron comes to take Aziraphale away and talk to him, the angel is fully ready to get into Crowley’s Bentley-chariot and finally ride off into the sunset (or Alpha Centauri-set or whatever). You can see it in his face and body language. You can see when the penny drops for him that a) Crowley loves him b) he loves Crowley and c) they can finally start their happily ever after. Aziraphale realizes this all throughout said Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does. 

I mean, look at that. Look at it. This (very shitty recording, sorry, I'm not tech-savvy enough to avoid the Amazon Prime screen recording blocker) is the very second Aziraphale realizes hat Crowley loves him. When he hears him suggest Alpha bloody Centauri as a getaway for Gabriel and Beelzebub, as Crowley has done to Aziraphale for so, so many times now. He finally understands what Crowley was trying to tell him with that all those times.

Aziraphale realizes this all throughout the Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does.

Right when Crowley suggest Alpha Centauri as a nice getaway spot to the two, Aziraphale looks at him and he gets it. That Crowley has loved him, has been loving him for millennia. Truthfully, they've both known that for a long while now. But there's a difference between knowing, wanting, craving and actually being able to finally have something. And that's exactly what we see on Aziraphale's face here. This is it. This is where it all starts working out for Crowley and him. This is were they can start their eternity together.

So from that second on, Aziraphale only has eyes for Crowley. He keeps physically pawing at Crowley with complete heart eyes, as if to say „Look, look, that’s gonna be us too! Finally!" He’s actually so smitten that he doesn’t even hear what Crowley is saying when he asks Shax if he can have back his apartment now because he’s sick of living in his car. (Also, what way to drop that bomb right in this moment Crowley, lmao). 

Once the Metatron comes in, the first thing Aziraphale says is that they don’t need to talk because „he’s made his position quite clear“. He doesn’t even want to talk to the Metatron, because in his mind, he’s already made the choice. Actually, he made the choice way before the bookshop showdown. For starters, I’m convinced that the Jane Austen Ball actually never was for Maggie and Nina but for Crowley and him (you can read more about that here). And apart from that, for this whole season we have seen Aziraphale trying to advance his relationship with Crowley romantically and domestically and move them to the literal next base (our car!). And after everything he just witnessed with Brielzebub, the final nail in the coffin of ethereal-infernal romance being possible, his choice is absolutely crystal clear: It’s Crowley. It’s always been Crowley and it always will be Crowley. And now it can be Crowley. They can be an us.

The whole of Season 2 is such a massive learning curve for Aziraphale’s character, with him remembering all those important pivotal points of his past,  and this very moment is the peak, with him not only understanding that Crowley loves him (because he certainly knew for quite some centuries now) but accepting that love, letting himself have that love, being allowed to want that love and taking that love and starting their new and final chapter with it. Nevertheless, the plot clock ticks for them. The Metatron saunters into the bookshop, evil and stinky as Metatrons do, and urges Aziraphale to come with him with his whole Take The Coffee schtick, which I will get into later. And Aziraphale, immediately sensing there’s Something Up, does. Can’t really turn down someone as high-ranking as the the voice of God, after all. Even if you were currently already planning how you were going to elope with a certain red-haired serpent of Eden. 

he next time we see Aziraphale on screen, it’s so painfully evident on his face that he is neither happy nor excited. Not even the slightest bit. We’d know if he was, thanks to Mr. Michael master-of-microexpressions Sheen. None of the usual “Aziraphale is happy”-signs are there. No blinding eye-smile, no giddy wriggling, not giggles and gasps. No, when the Metatron tells Aziraphale to „go tell your friend the good news“, his expression looks like this:

I’m gonna go out on an entire limb here and say: That does not look like someone who’s absolutely tickety-boo hyped to tell his demon soulmate that he just got the juiciest promotion and that they can both be angels and live happily ever after in ethereal eternity now.

This, folks, looks like someone who knows exactly that the news he has to break right now, are going to be tickety-shit awful and very upsetting to said demon soulmate. And already, from that very short snippet of conversation, we can tell that Aziraphale isn’t really given a choice by the Metatron. Because while the Metatron does tell him that he doesn’t have to „answer right away“, he immediately follows it up by: „Go ahead and tell your friend the good news!“ Very distinct and definitive choice of words here. It’s “good news” because it’s already been decided. Because it’s already a done deal. There is no “yes, no, maybe”. This is the only choice he’s giving to Aziraphale. Because it’s ‘Coffee or death’. 

And he already gave him the coffee. 

***

Tumblr won't let me continue this over a certain character limit and I am not even remotely done yet – so, I feel like this is a good moment to redirect you to the continuation of this insane meta before we're in too deep. You can do so right here!

I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions about this once you've fought your way through it. Hope you have a good time with it!

[asoiafsworld]

BELONG TO YOU - one

pairing; ellie williams x fem!reader

summary; you're new on campus and ellie notices you. despite your shyness and struggles of being anti social, you can't help but fall in love with her.

warnings and tags; modern!au, college!au, dealer!ellie, reader is shy, anxiety, depression, fluff, angst, eventual smut, touch starvation, ellie has a dick in this, reader is also pretty innocent, might make a kink out of it, drug abuse, obsessiveness, love at first sight kinda thing

author's note; i folded. im finally writing for my lovely ellie and feel like this is the worst thing i have ever written lmao. i was going to write all of this in like a very long one chapter thing but i literally can't so here's what u get. not even sure if i wanna continue this but if u guys like it i might. thanks for reading, pls tell me what u think of it <3

two

You feel lost.

You’re new to this place, new to this city, new to these people. You never expected to get away from your past, awful life and you’re still not sure if you have. Because you look around and observe the people at campus, see everyone with their friend groups or romantic partners and feel so utterly alone. You always have been, always too shy to talk to someone and too awkward to hold a conversation… or a friendship. Not that anyone ever thought you were worth being friends with.

It’s always been suffocating, this loneliness, this darkness that overtakes your mind when it’s quiet and you’re alone. You get that feeling when you sit under a tree in the park on campus and watch and observe the people around you. It’s not like you’re being ignored, you would have to be acknowledged first to be ignored. But people walking past you and not giving a single fuck about your existence is somewhat hurtful. One guy even stepped on your book earlier and didn’t even apologize to you. It was closed, thankfully, but it made you keep your things closer to you, making your little bubble smaller than it already is. You take a deep breath and look away from the crowded park and back down on your notes, distracting yourself from your self deprecating thoughts.

The moment that you look down, she looks up. Ellie’s gaze only wanders over you for a split second and she was going to let her gaze go over the park and the many people that she knows and sells to. But her brain works a second later than her eyes do so she looks back to the lone figure sitting under the tree, hair spilling down as your eyes sharply go over the notebook in your hands. Ellie is mesmerized for some reason, unable to look away from you and your pretty face and your legs enveloped in bright blue jeans and your fingers tracing the words on your book and your breasts pushing up as you breath-

“Earth to Ellie? Hello? You having a stroke or something?” Her eyes break away forcefully from you to look at her friend, Dina, who is looking at her with a questioning but amused glint in her eyes. Her mouth is working faster than her brain so the question doesn’t fully register until she says it.

“Do you know who that is? The girl under the tree? Never seen her before.” Dina’s eyebrows raise at the question and she turns around to look at where Ellie’s eyes have strayed to once more. She watches you take out your pen from your bag and scribble something down on your notebook, your lips puckering as you’re writing. It’s as if you don’t realize how pretty your lips look like this, how Ellie has to restrain her mind from thinking of something totally inappropriate. She doesn’t even know you, not even your name but the way you sit there all alone and almost helplessly lonely makes something in her stir. You shouldn’t be alone when she knows how many disgusting boys are at this college, even if it’s at a park with so many people out on a sunny day.

“Yeah, she’s new, moved into the empty room at the end of our hall. Pretty sure she’s next to your room.” Dina has turned her head back around and can’t hide the little smirk that forms on her face when she sees Ellie staring. She takes another second to let her eyes linger on you, on how gorgeous you look when the sun shines down on you before she stands up. She walks towards you with confidence and determination, not even entirely sure why. You just look so pretty to her, the way you sit there and study whilst everyone else is doing anything but studying. Something in her gut and in her chest stirs when she sees you sitting alone and looking seemingly sad. She doesn't think that anyone else notices but she sees that you look a little helpless, like a lost puppy not knowing where to go.

For some reason, she wants you to go to her.

You don’t realize that someone stands in front of you until a shadow is cast over you and your book, making it difficult to see your notes. When you look up, you see a tall girl in a crew neck shirt and an unbuttoned denim work shirt over it. She’s wearing faded blue jeans and blue converse, her brown, shoulder length hair partially tied to keep it out of her face. Her eyes are pale green and piercing as she looks down on you, the gaze in her eyes so intense but looking at you with all the ease in the world. Your heart races at this, so unused to someone looking at you or approaching you. You grip your book tightly to keep yourself from getting up and running away and hope she says something before you have to.

“Hi. Mind if I sit next to you?” Her voice sounds clear as she speaks, no hesitation or doubt in the way she speaks and even stands in front of you. You’re taken aback by her question and desperately suppress the urge to ask why she wants to be next to you. You don’t know her, only remember that she lives in the room next to yours and that there’s always people coming and going out of her room. You’ve seen her recieve money at her door sometimes in exchange for… god knows what she is giving other people, you wouldn’t know. You nod slowly and try not to look overly confused at her as she sits down right next to you, the body heat she radiates so close to you that it almost throws you off. You don’t know the last time someone sat this close to you and don’t want to think further about the feeling you often feel when you watch other people hug or kiss each other or hold hands. Touch starving, that’s what the internet called it when you googled it. You know that it’s true because you do not remember the last time you hugged someone or felt physical touch in any form. You feel so embarrassed when you accidentally brush against someone in the hallways because most of the time, your body craves more of that touch.

You are unsure of what to do now with someone sitting next to you, your breath held in carefully as if the world would shatter if you breathed out. Why is she sitting next to you? Did you do something wrong? You stare down at the book in your lap but can’t really think when there’s someone, a very pretty girl actually, sitting right next to you. There’s a slight breeze that hits you from the side and it carries the girl's scent with it, earthy and lemony from something that you can’t place. You like the smell, it suits her. You turn your head slightly and see that she’s been looking at you this entire time, the gaze in her eyes studying you and a small smile formed on her lips. God, she’s so gorgeous, it truly takes your breath away. She proceeds to hold a hand out to you and you look down to it before looking back up.

“I’m Ellie.” She says and and you smile slightly at how sweet she seems, introducing herself to a complete stranger. You briefly wonder how lonely you must have looked for Ellie to approach you and try not to think about it for too long. You tell her your name, your voice a little too shaky and too unsure, as if you just came up with your own name. You put your hand into hers and dig your finger into your palm on your other hand because this much body contact is not something you are used to. Your hand is smaller than hers and it looks tiny in her bigger, warmer hand. You almost don’t want to let go because her warmth and touch make something stir in your gut, something comforting and wholesome that you don’t know if you’ve ever felt before. It takes a lot of willpower for you to break your hand away from hers, willing to let it stay in hers for as long as she would let you but you shouldn’t scare her off right away.

“So, you’re pretty new here. What’s your major?” Ellie is captivated by the girl in front of her. You are even prettier up close and Ellie has a hard time not looking at your lips constantly or your tiny hand that fits into hers twice over. You look confused and helpless, even if you try to hide it and it makes Ellie’s heart hurt a little. Why do you seem so scared of even talking to anyone? And why is Ellie so interested in you? She doesn’t know why she even came over here but the moment she saw you, every nerve in her brain only had one goal: to talk to you. You look at her with an unreadable look in our eyes and nervously brush your hair behind your ear.

“Uhm, M-marine Biology.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks at your stutter and hope she doesn’t notice it. She seems perceptive enough that she probably does but also tactful enough to not comment on it. Her eyebrows raise a little at your answer and you hope she doesn’t think it’s lame. You don’t know why you don’t want her to think you’re lame.

“Marine biology… That’s pretty cool.” Your heart does a little flip at the way she draws her words out and you can hear a slight accent in her voice. It sounds southern but it’s not that noticeable. “So, you like fish?”

The question is so silly that it takes you aback and you do something that you never do in front of other people; you giggle. You hope it doesn’t sound stupid to her because it certainly does to you and you quickly bite your lip to stop yourself. You look at her again and now have a small smile on your lips that seems to make her smile in return. She’s so incredibly attractive, the way she sits with her knees drawn up and her hair tied back and her eyes looking at you in a certain way that you can’t describe.

“Yeah, I guess I do. What’s your major?” You mentally give yourself a pat on the back for your progress on socializing but talking to someone like this is still unknown territory for you. You’re still incredibly nervous next to her and hope you don’t say something stupid.

“Fine arts. Was always interested in it, I draw a lot and I guess I’m pretty good at it… or something.” The way Ellie bashfully scratches the back of her head and blushes at the last part makes your chest feel warm, for whatever reason. She seems like an artistic kind of person, the tattoos on her arms catching your attention and wondering if she drew them herself. She must be talented, you think to yourself. How couldn’t she be with hands like hers.

You are distracted by the sound of her name being called and look towards a girl with dark hair and sharp, memorable features. She’s pretty, very pretty and looks at Ellie impatiently. You wonder if that’s her girlfriend, certain of Ellie being gay with the way she carries herself and… sits. And wears converse. Your heart hurts at that thought and you feel incredibly stupid for it. Ellie sighs next to you and gets up, looking back down at you with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I promised my friend Dina to drive her downtown. But… Maybe you would like to see my drawings? Or just, hang out. We’re neighbors after all.” You can’t pretend that hearing her call the girl her friend doesn’t make you relieved and the small smile is on your face again as you feel better at the revelation. You don’t know if you should let news like this affect you the way they do but how could you not cling onto every detail when someone talks to you like a friend… for maybe the first time since you were a child. You nod as you stare and memorize her face, her pretty freckles captivating you.

“Yeah, I would like that.” Your voice is soft as you speak and you play with your fingers to distract yourself, swallowing as you see the way she stares down at you. Her hand reaches towards you and gently, so softly, she brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. Her finger brushes over your cheek so delicately that your stomach twists at the touch and you genuinely don’t know how to keep yourself sane. Your lashes flutter softly at her touch but your eyes remain locked on hers, desperate to hear her say something else or let her touch your however she wants to.

“I’ll see you then.” Ellie pulls her finger away gently and turns around, walking towards her friend. You watch as Ellie moves further and further away from your point of view until she is not even visible but you have barely come back to your senses by then. You exhale the breath you held in and softly close your eyes, touching the cheek that she had touched so softly. The moment keeps replaying in your mind, her intense gaze not faltering for once as she looks down at you like she can do whatever she wants, like… like she owns you.

You’re embarrassed by how much you like that thought. All your life, you have been alone, your family estranged and abusive, no friends to keep you sane, your mentality and shyness not allowing you to make friends. And here comes this girl, this gorgeous, pretty, intimidating girl that just sits next to you and touches you like she’s never done anything different. She seems like the kind of person that makes you feel safe, that protects you and takes care of you. The kind of person that you belong to.

She’s a stranger. You barely know her and yet, you can’t help your thoughts. You want to belong to her.

[the-glacian]

Something, Everything

Written for @bucktommyweek DAY 1: Date Night.

“God I hope so,” Tommy says with that smirk he doesn’t bother hiding behind his next sip of wine.  And Buck can’t help matching it with his own.  It quickly transforms into a full-blown smile he can barely keep in check. Or the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to erupt from within – relief that Bobby’s life doesn’t hang in the balance, contentment that for once there’s no emergency to rush to, rapture from carving out a moment for himself in the midst of it all.  There’s something else too. Some awareness he isn’t yet prepared to articulate, laced with an animalistic response in the pit of his belly that has little to do with the fact that he hasn’t touched his food yet. “You do, don’t you?” He counters, piling more salad onto his plate to control his nerves. Doesn’t draw attention to the fact that his voice comes with a rasp. Unfazed and impressed at the same time, Tommy arches an eyebrow over the rim of his glass. “It’s a shame to let the food you prepared go to waste,” he says with an affectation of candidness. Then, as a matter of fact, “Otherwise I’d show you.” Gripping the wooden spoon like a lifeline, Buck almost chokes on empty air.  The words evolve into images in his mind, acquiring a life of their own and shooting straight down below the waistband of his pants. All the blood in his body seems adamant to keep up, and it’s a challenge not to expose his blatant excitement.  “There’s always room for dessert,” he retaliates. In another scenario, he’d be proud of himself for a comeback, but his mouth is parched and Tommy’s lips are damp with traces of wine, shaping something that gets smothered by the white noise in Buck’s ears. And all he wants right then and there is to kiss Tommy senseless. To drag him upstairs and claim his front row in that auspicious show of naked bodies and not-fully-realised kinks. Or, fuck the bedroom. The table’s likely resilient enough to witness blasphemy or bear the brunt of two men’s carnal escapades. The spoons slip from his hands as his erection twitches with interest, and he can’t pretend to care for the food anymore. Buck swallows and blinks the image away. “How hungry are you?” He forces out. Or gasps , rather. Tommy’s eyes flash with understanding. “Very,” he says, and he’s already disposed of his glass, having started folding his napkin with a look that suggests Buck’s in for a ride of his life.  Pouncing from one emergency to another is his second nature, but he’s never scrambled out of a chair any faster. It’s not until after midnight that they finally share a plate of cold lasagna while sitting cross-legged side by side on the kitchen floor. There’s the same bottle of wine between them that they take turns drinking from between mouthfuls. The conversation veers from dredging up the past to the tentative plans for the future, and Buck can only imagine the solemn look on Tommy’s face softening in the half-light filtering through the window from the street lamp outside. He doesn’t need to see it to feel every shift resonating inside with the now-familiar pulse of awareness. In the end, it’s less romantic than Buck has initially planned for their date night.  But with their bellies finally full, the bottle drained and the long day slowly making itself felt, he lets his head fall on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy props his cheek on the top, the hum of his voice a soothing melody.  And as Buck fights the sealing embrace of sleep, he can’t help thinking it’s better .

🔗 also on AO3 🔗

[xotication]

im actually obsessed with ur writing😫could u write about domestic things with kaneki? (idk if that’s the word) like slow mornings, going out to shop, etc!!

of course i can

☆,

i personally feel like slow mornings with ken come after having a night of fun.. ifykwim.

that being said though, he’s always extremely soft with you. & he’s doing any & all work so you don’t have to move all that much.

you guys spend almost two hours just laying in bed, talking, rotting.. well you’re mainly doing all the talking but ken is listening intently. he could tell exactly what you were saying ten minutes ago, without any fail. it’s so cute.

when you finally decide you wanna get up, ken makes his way to the bathroom first so he can put toothpaste on both of your guys toothbrushes.

ken will also fully try to speak to you as he’s brushing his teeth, it never makes any fucken sense but he refuses to stay quiet.

after teeth brushing, he’ll help you wash your face & then he’s on his way to make you wtv you’re feeling for breakfast.

trust, he literally wants you doing NOTHING.

“do you need help, ken? i can make the eggs”

“NO. just go sit down..”

“oh- ok you don’t have to YELL”

“sorry…”

LMAOO like he’s so passionate.

you have to stop him when he’s tryna spoon feed you your entire meal.

“i got it ken, thank you..”

“just say you hate me & want me to die.”

“OMG.”

—

on to shopping, most bfs don’t really like going shopping with their gfs because only god knows how long they’ll actually be shopping for.

but nonono. NOT KANEKI.

this man would be your personal stylist if he could be. you’ll be searching through the racks of clothes, mf waltz on over with at least 5 hangers & a big ass smile.

“here, try these on! i think they’d look good on you”

“ken, i can find my own-”

“SH. dressing room. you. NOW.”

& much to your surprise, his selections always do end up looking good on you. he’s making sure every color is gonna go with your skin tone. making sure nothing will stand out too harshly, & taking into account the things he already knows you don’t like.

not to mention, this man doesn’t let you pay for like, anything?

one time you guys were out thrifting & you kept finding the cutest pieces ever. only to reach into your purse & realize you’d forgotten your entire wallet.

“ken.. i forgot my wallet.”

when i tell you, the pure disgust written on this man’s face is OTHERWORLDLY.

“so..? who said i was gonna let you fucken pay for anything anyway? put everything you want in the cart & keep it pushing.”

“but ken.. that’s so much money”

“my money belongs to you”

your jaw dropped internally. it took all your willpower to not drop to the floor, roll around, & start giggling.

also! ken is a very big fan of matching or coordinated outfits. he loves loves loves being able to show that you guys are together. by any small or big means possible.

i’d also like to kindly remind you that ken absolutely does have a ring with your name on it :3

oh & he most definitely shares his clothes with you! he thinks it's so cute when he finds you in his closet, "what're you looking for, pretty?"

"erm.. i dunno, i really liked that one shirt you wore like 2 days ago."

"this one?" he's holding up a plain black shirt. on the back side there's angle wings, & the shirt itself is a little faded out from when he first got it, so you love the aesthetic of it.

"yes!"

"all you had to do was ask, honey."

—

i think one thing ken really enjoys doing with you is taking walks. like no matter the time nor weather. he loves a good walk & yap session with his favorite girl.

“baby, can we go for a walk”

“what’re you, a dog?”

“no.. i just wanna walk & talk.. well, hear you talk”

“we can talk in here..”

“but i wanna talk outside, get some fresh air.. yk?”

“fine.”

you guys end up walking down to a park nearby, & you're of course telling ken about the most of random things you've been seeing & hearing lately.

the two of you are gossiping about your workspaces, friend groups, social media drama & so on.

ken ends up picking like a million flowers & he puts them in your hair, you don't even stop him because you know it's making him happy, "you're so beautiful, y/n." he says when he's finally all done.

"i know."

"yeah? & how do you know?"

"you tell me everyday"

ken has the biggest, stupidest smile on his face when you say this. he feels like he's doing his job right. he opens insta & takes a picture of you in that moment & captions it, "my flower girl" & hits share.

—

ahem.

ken most definitely reads you books. it is the best bonding time ever. especially if it's a really good book too.

he loves to fucken slam the book down & debrief anything & everything with you.

if something crazy happens, ken will fully throw the damn book across the room as he's reading it.

"ken?!" "HOLYYYY FUCKEN SHIIITT"

"boy go pick the fucken book up! i didn't even hear what happened yet!"

"oh, right."

& then he's scrambling to get the book & sitting you in his lap so you can read the tea too. when you finally do, you gasp & he's all in your ear lie, "MHMM, i told you!!"

one time you bought 50 shades of grey without telling him what it was about & when he finally got to the spicy parts, his jaw dropped to the ground.

"y/n, what the hell am i reading?!"

"a book!!"

"let's recreate?"

you two most definitely recreated.

—

this is so random but i’ve been thinking about kaneki playing dress to impress SMMM.

when he sees it trending all over his tiktok & insta, he’s absolutely itching to play with you.

one day you come home from being out with a couple friends & ken is on ft with hide, practically screaming.

“CHAT WHERE TF ARE THE SCARVES?!?! there’s only a minute left!!”

you peer over his shoulder to sneak a peek at his screen & low & behold. it’s dti.

you lean down to kiss his cheek & he’s like “oh my god, babe! go get your laptop, you have to play this shit with us”

..

it’s been only 2 rounds & ken is whining about how you placed podium TWICE when he’s been trying for the past hour.. or two.

“baby.. this isn’t fair.”

“kaneki this is so rigged.” hide chimes in.

you’re cackling in your spot, “just fucken try harder?!”

“I HAVE BEEN”

you look at ken’s screen & see the worst possible outfit for “ghosts vs ghouls”

he literally made their skin green & thought he was eating the competition UPPP.

not to mention the fully purple outfit he put on, & random black top hat? with bulky black boots, & a makeup look that looked BUTCHERED.

“ken, my love. that outfit is horrible.”

he’s just about ready to put his mac through a wood chipper. there’s a pout on his face.

“okay well- can you play on my computer so i can get at least one win.” he says in the softest voice ever & you feel like it’s taking all your might not to laugh.

ken just wanted his dti win. :p

i’m so sorry this took so fucken long. ☠️

[andrea-lyn]

Roswell New Mexico - Master Fic Rec Post

See under the cut for thirty-four total recs, predominantly Malex. There's also 10 additional in the "Recs Less Travelled" project here.

a few drinks and some conversation by @christchex

Michael Guerin makes a friend who isn’t his sibling, an ex, or a sibling’s ex.

Astriferous Sea by hrhbrittany, Sismyn

Alex has always been the baby among the sirens in the Dead Sea. Michael is performing beard services for his sister. Communication is a little wishy-washy.

This AU came out of nowhere and smacked me right with the ‘I’ve always wanted this and I just never knew’. It has sirens and rescues and bad guys and false relationships and real marriages and rings and drama and romance. It honestly reminds me (in the best way) of an exciting romance novel and I’m so jazzed there’s still one part left to it.

The Bachelor by Sweetgirl2019

After the events of high school, Michael, Isobel & Max moved to California while Liz, Maria & Kyle stayed in Roswell and Alex went to war overseas. Once his enlistment period ends, Alex gets thrown into something that brings him and Michael back together again.

So I think this might be my favourite to see updated right now. It should be a run-of-the-mill fluffy AU, yet the author threw this incredible curveball by using the alien background in a canon divergence to turn The Bachelor into both a romantic dramedy for the boys, but also keeping the looming threat of people finding out about aliens in the background. Also, I think this is top tier pining that you will actively feel in your own chest, that’s how good it is. 

blink back to let me know by haloud - Roswell New Mexico

Alex doesn’t have important conversations over the phone when he can avoid them. It feels too much like going in blind. But in some ways, the phone makes it easier–it’s easier to break when no one’s looking.

It’s Mylex and the 5th in a series, and every part is worth reading, but I definitely re-read parts 4 and 5 a lot. It’s so well written and the dynamic is mwah and I love how Kyle fits into this. One of my favourite pieces in this is how Kyle reacts to his father in relation to Michael & Caulfield and it’s an amazing read.

built this house on memories by @villanellve

He wakes up eight years in the future, and everything is strange, but Alex is there.

YOU GUYS. If you were to write a list of tropes I adore, this would be way up there at the top because of how much I love it. I am a sucker for a character having to be removed from their situation to learn (whether it’s an alternate universe or the future or the past), but this one is so achingly painful and perfect and hopeful. I love the callout that the situation is almost too hard for Alex, I love the resolution at the end on Michael’s part, and you could just soak in the happiness and comfort of their future lives if you let yourself.

Can’t Get No by one_flying_ace

“They’re on round two already,” he says, tilting his head towards the truck again, “or maybe three.” Guerin grimaces, and that’s fair; it’s his brother, after all. “You know how they’re feeling. Could I handle it, if you stopped-” being in control, he doesn’t say, but Guerin shudders. “I’m good, Alex. Just keep the hell away.” (Or: alien sex rocks don’t make them do it, but they sure do help.)

Sex pollen/sex-or-die fics are pretty much a requirement, but this is my absolute favourite and I have re-read it more times than I can tell you (let’s put it at six or seven?) The restraint that Michael has in this is amazing, but the mental images of it are incredible as well. I loved Max and Liz’s secondary presence as well and how each character was tonally perfect down to the little things (like Max not noticing Michael’s sex marks). What a good. What a hot. What amazing.

Constant as the Northern Star by celzmccelz

Michael stares at Kyle. “But I’m a guy! How can I be pregnant?” Kyle looks embarrassed. “Well, you appear to have a fully functioning set of female reproductive organs—or, I mean, like, the kind of reproductive organs that are associated with a double X-chromosome in humans, so I’d assume that you probably became pregnant when semen was introduced into your reproductive tract—” “Jesus Christ, Kyle!” says Michael. He could have happily lived the rest of his life without ever hearing Kyle Valenti say the words “semen” and “reproductive tract.” Kyle’s eyes widen. “Have you been having unprotected sex?” “Oh my God, I am not having this conversation with you!”

Yes, going in, there are some warnings to be cognizant of. It’s mpreg, there’s a lot of medical stuff to go through, but I think this is my absolute favourite of the mpregs I’ve read and it actually comes down to Michael’s support system outside of Alex, namely in Kyle. There’s no sudden BFF bracelets being given, but that morality that makes Kyle Valenti who he is, that’s right there. Also, given that this is an mpreg fic, it delves into family and plot in a way that I haven’t often seen. Plus, you get the ‘getting back together’ Malex that I so deeply crave.

Contigo me encontré by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox

The Lockhart House was once a home, although it was never a happy one. Steeped in tragedy, it still stands today, in the heart of Old Town Roswell, attracting ghost hunters and those seeking to catch a peak of something from beyond the veil.

Contrary to popular myth, it wasn’t currently haunted (except by one paranormally talented docent). It was Michael’s favorite job and the best part of his summer home from UNM. Or at least was until Alex Manes was hired to man the gift shop, complicating an otherwise fun and easy job.

everywhere on earth you go - @evepolastried

Across the room, he can still see how Michael Guerin is looking at him. And that’s something different, something new, something so very familiar. The thrill of nerves, of guilt, of want. Alex smiles, and he starts to sing. (OR: Alex Manes grabs his guitar and gets the hell out of Roswell in 2008, and he leaves behind a letter. Here’s what happens ten years later)

I love this. This one has something incredible, and it’s something I called out, but it has this amazing work with pace. There’s a frantic moment at the bar and it’s chaos, and you feel it. It’s rushed and wild and crazy, but then everything slows down and it gets perfect. There’s Michael, there’s Alex, there’s music, and it’s such a great ride.

Family Matters by @bestillmyslashyheart

Isobel is telepathic. Most of the time she ignores it. She used to pick up on other’s people’s emotions but she’s long since learned to tune that out. Until one night she can’t. Someone, somewhere is in such a state that it’s spilling over and she’s left to deal with the brunt of it. Or, Michael keeps things close to the vest until he can’t. The night after Alex leaves him at the drive-in, everything he’s feeling bubbles up inside until it spills over onto Isobel. Suddenly he’s left with no other choice but to open up.

This is an early fandom piece, but I still think it’s held up to an immensely amazing rate. Not only that, but I love how it delves into powers, Michael and Isobel’s relationship, and the incredible idea of spillover, which I still actively wish would become canon because of this fic. I think it’s so IC, especially with Michael’s active wish not to talk about it that he screws himself over in his sleep and seriously, it’s such a good read for both Isobel & Michael stuff, but also Michael & Alex.

the first who ever did - nostaljinks

Five times Michael saves Alex + 1 time Alex saves Michael back.

I feel like there aren’t enough words that I can heap onto this of praise. This fic is well-written, well-plotted, well-thought out, well-everything. It’s a beautiful emotional roller coaster and will make you ACHE, but in a great way. It also is the right amount of long that you want more, but you also get it, and it’s just as quality as the rest. ABSOLUTE must read.

fish bowl by @sabrinachill

Alex makes a series of phone calls and bad choices that lead him directly here — an Airstream on the edge of a junkyard with a distractingly attractive mechanic showing him how the dining table converts into a bed that he can sleep on for just $75 a week. It is, of course, completely absurd. But there’s something cozy about the fuzzy yellow blanket on the bed/table and the sparkling sunlight streaming through the mostly-clean windows, in the smell of leather and motor oil and aftershave and summer storms, in the hopeful half-smile on Michael’s face. That’s his name — Michael. Alex’s potential new roommate and landlord. (AKA An AU About Quarantined Roommates Who Fall in Love)

I highly recommend anything by @sabrinachill, but this fic is a really clear argument about why. It’s an AU that involves quarantine, and you might think ‘oh, I’ve read that before’, but then it will take you down the unexpected road that you didn’t expect to go down, but as soon as you take that twist, you instantly realize how much better it is that way. Hats off to the clever plotting not just in Fish Bowl, but other fics! 

Funny How Things Never Change - @waroftheposes​

“What can I do for you?” Michael asks, turning to face Alex. Alex can tell the moment that Michael’s mind registers who he’s addressing, because the polite smile drops from his face and the hat falls from his hand. He stands there, eyes wide and unbelieving, looking at Alex. Alex takes a deep breath, willing his racing heart to settle. “Well,” he begins and is his voice shaking? “For starters you can get your stubborn ass over here and give me a divorce.” – (A Sweet Home Alabama AU)

Yooooo, guess who was bereft when she thought she lost this link. It was absolutely me. This AU makes me happy in so many ways, especially the storms in the desert motif that keeps coming back around, and also that it’s messy. I like that it’s not cut and dry, that it goes right up until the wedding, and that it takes some real talk for them to get back together. I love fics where they all get to be human and this one is just so good. 

I Know Nothing Stays The Same by aewriting

“Alex doesn’t believe in miracles until one happens to him. His father has a hammer in one hand and Alex’s throat in the other. As Alex’s consciousness fades, he’s dimly aware of movement. His father’s about to swing the hammer, and this is how Alex will die.” When an unexplainable force puts a stop to Jesse’s attack in the shed, Alex and Michael are forced to go on the run. Leaving Roswell is an easy decision, but navigating the consequences of that choice months and even years later proves to be much more complicated.

I think this one became a must read very early on, but then it’s continued to deliver. There’s been a few stories that delve into the characters getting therapy, but there’s a whole chapter here where it genuinely feels cathartic as we go through the process with Alex. This fic also is an excellent and long version of an AU I think that we’ve all wondered, about what would happen if they ran away, and it’s so well written and so real that I know I will be re-reading this a ton. Like many of the others, why I love it is because it’s not perfection, but it’s the kind of real where I want to wrap myself up in it. 

i won’t go, i can’t do it on my own by @queersirius

alex tries to let go by giving back the pieces of michael he’s kept

Millie has a bunch of AMAZING AUs (guys, the 10 Things I Hate About You is something I never thought I’d get, especially from a favourite author), but i think this one is actually my favourite, especially when it comes to the ship piece that Alex has. Again, when I talk about ‘fics that make me want to be better’, this one was one. The writing is engaging, the characterization is fabulous, and the emotions are so honest and real. Then there’s this line, like a gut punch:  “Because it’s the last thing I have of you,” he admits. “The last piece of you I have to let go of.” which I love because it’s still Alex’s journey, an honest attempt to offer closure (if closure is wanted). 

in some other life - @spaceskam​

michael tries to build a time machine, but ends up in a different reality all together

There are a lot of these that have been written and they are all quality, but I love this one especially because of how we get into Alex in the other universe, get the glimpse of this unknown Michael, but also the scene that strikes this one out for me is that Alex doesn’t want to let him go. I love that Alex gets to be selfish, that he begs for him to stay, and that we don’t get the automatic happy ending in that, but there’s still the hope for it. Also, Alex the Angel, unf. 

intimate encounters of the third kind by @alexmanes

Three years after Antar and its people take Earth under their wings, Roswell becomes the epicenter for human-alien relations between both planets. It doesn’t take very long for Alex Manes to find himself embroiled in a scandal that threatens this intergalactic partnership, all thanks to a beautiful man named Michael Guerin who is not nearly as human as he claims to be.

Okay, so, if you like No Love Like Your Love, the truth is that you have this fic to thank. This was my first introduction in RNM fandom as to what a really amazing fic could be that incorporated the royalty elements into the pairing. Once 1x12 aired and we met Michael’s mother, it was pretty much a done deal that I wanted to do something that played with that, but this is the actual inspiration. It’s well plotted, it has a great ensemble cast, and plays with the kind of care that it takes to know your plot inside and out, but also to leave breadcrumbs that guide the reader along. It’s very methodical in the sense that nothing is by accident and it has you on the edge of your seat.

It’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical

Michael finds out that Alex is dating Forrest and he’s okay with it, until he’s not. Maria suggests a double date to show they can all hang out as friends. But they can’t… not really. [OR the one where Michael & Alex realize that they belong together and so they say goodbye to their respective relationships and start anew]

Honest truth time - in terms of ‘ships, while I always love people to ship and let ship, my personal preference for both Michael and Alex is one another, so both Maria/Michael and Forrest/Alex aren’t things that I usually seek out when trawling Ao3. This fic is so good to all parties involved. No one is a villain and I appreciate that they get to talk about things like Alex’s reticence to do certain things in public, but also being aware that Alex deserves to have something new as much as Michael.

Last Stop: This Town by @ubiestcaelum

Someone asked what it would have been like if Michael had gone home with the Evan’s and I couldn’t let it go.

Am I cheating because I requested this? idk, maybe, because another one I requested will end up here too. I am addicted to the idea of Michael getting the support system he needs, but THIS FIC takes it to the most impossibly amazing level and fleshes out the Evans parents in such an incredible way. I love that it’s not super sunshine and rainbows, but it’s an honest telling of raising kids (and maybe too many kids versus what you expected). I know this is only in progress (several today will be), but even as it is, it’s worth reading multiple times, because I know I have.

let me count the ways by @queersirius

liz ortecho isn’t allowed to date until her snarky, determined-not-to-date brother, alex ortecho, does. luckily, one of her suitors has a plan. well, max goes to isobel for a plan, which involves getting their brother, michael, to woo alex. or, the 10 things i hate about you AU

Obviously this needs to be here as I desperately pleaded for it to exist, but it’s so beyond what it might be as a mini tumblr ficlet and has become a whole world. It’s not just a great Malex story, it’s an amazing story for all the characters and really fleshes out a world, but weaves in the RNM characters perfectly, but also gives me a dynamic I want more of, in Alex being an Ortecho. It’s not quite finished yet, but Millie has never steered us wrong and I can’t wait for more.

Loathly by @aewriting

When King Manes and his sons are caught illegally hunting on Antarian lands, King Noah gives King Manes a choice - correctly answer a riddle or accept death. A year-long search for the correct answer ensues, leading the youngest son of the king, Alex, to strike a bargain with a mysterious woman who claims to know the answer. This is an AU of the Arthurian legend “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell.”

Love at First Sass - @daffietjuh

Taking a class of 30 high school kids on a school trip to an Air Force base was about as exhausting as it sounds, luckily, the Captain giving them the tour is perfectly capable of handling a group of rowdy teenagers. Michael may be slightly in love Okay, so first of all, if you haven’t read any of the author’s other work, you should. The AUs are fantastic and the hockey one is still one of my favourites ever, but this one also just was exactly what I needed. It was sexy and flirty and fun, but also fit their personalities perfectly!

Everything in the Michael Sanders AU, by prouvaireafterdark which is a fantastic series that gives us what we all wanted, which is Walt Sanders giving Michael the home he deserved (and getting one right back).

My love is a life taker by @jocarthage

By the time he turned 15, Captain Alex Manes had been to every war zone and unofficial conflict the United States of America was involved in. It wasn’t regular practice, or even heard of, for a Colonel to bring his son along on combat missions; the exception was if the child had been identified as Time Aware, able to travel in time along their own timeline using stolen alien technology. So here Alex Manes was, 28, and ducking bombs, killing who he’s told to. On his way back from a mission, Alex slips into another timestream. It should be impossible. But he can hear a child crying and he heads towards the sound. This is the story of how Alex saved Michael and Michael saved Alex, with lots of time travel shenanigans and angst.

This story is incredible for so many reasons and one of them I continue to praise is the balance. It’s an Alex driven story, but you can break his life down into friends, mission, family, and Michael, and often those elements combine, but there’s never any update that doesn’t give you enough (imo). It’s excellent writing with engaging OCs and wonderful plot, and the most incredible love story.

not in this world (or the next) by @hannah-writes

It isn’t until he realises he can’t find the keys for his fucking truck anywhere and that there’s mail on the table addressed to Mr M Evans that Noah called him ‘Evans’, too. He fumbles inside the wallet that he’d managed to locate and pulls out a New Mexico licence with his picture on it; he doesn’t have a black eye and a split lip in this one, his hair’s tamed and he doesn’t look like he’s gone three days without showering. His date of birth is stamped, clear and correct, but then where his name should read ‘Michael Guerin’, it reads “Michael Evans’ and the address registered on the license is that of Max and Isobel’s childhood home. Noah had also said ‘your mom’s’. Not ‘Mrs Evans’. It feels like a bucket of ice water’s dumped over his head as he finally accepts that something is very, very wrong. (aka, the fic spawned from a tumblr prompt about Michael waking up in a parallel reality.)

This one, guys. This is an absolute beast of angst and love and a really well plotted story, but also is really amazing for how it creates Mikey, but also creates motive behind what drives both Michael and Mikey in ways that are the same, but also different. Genuinely, this fic is a great read because you get so much attention to the characters while also driving along the relationships, and who they are. 

nursery sharks by christchex

Six firsts in the Sanders household and a second.

Otherwise Engaged by JustAsSweet

Alex Manes was perfectly happy with his job at Colden Records but when his visa is rejected and deportation looms, marrying his assistant Michael Evans is his only option. And when they make a trip to Alaska to see Michael’s family, everything becomes a lot more complicated.

AKA: The Proposal AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway.

Shadow Work - @myrmidryad

After his discharge from the Air Force, Alex Manes is working as a shade - a professional ghost hunter - when Michael Guerin tracks him down. Alex left Roswell thirteen years ago and never went back, but overnight Michael’s family has vanished and the supernatural activity in Roswell has exploded, and he wants Alex’s help. Featuring: ghosts, more ghosts, metaphorical ghosts, and a lot of sex without talking about feelings. Also missing family members, government conspiracies, and gratuitous worldbuilding.

No, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I can’t rec this enough. Literally, this is a novel-type rec. If this were a book on a shelf, I would be shouting that you need to go read it, because it is literally good enough to be a published work on a best-selling list. It’s so fucking good. Every time you think it can’t get better, it does. It has nuance and plot and world-building and it is So. Fucking. Good. I could sit here and sing praises all day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Please give yourself a holiday treat and read it.

The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot by Anonymous

Michael and Alex erase each other from their memories. It does not go according to plan. [Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Roswell style]

I mean, I could rec anything by Anonymous and it would be worth your read. They’re so good and so in character,  but this one is my favourite. It’s angsty as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but it plays with the movie plot in such a Roswell-specific way that makes sense that I honestly never even compared or contrasted it to the movie past the first few beats. The pain is visceral, and the memory loss segment is incredible, but also delivers on a positive ending. 

To Trust Love by @laughsalot3412 

The prisoner’s voice sounded like home. He could have been raised in Roswell, the way his accent stretched his vowels. He definitely hadn’t been. Alex would have remembered eyes like those. (AU where Alex Manes goes on an undercover rescue mission in Caulfield Prison and forms a bond with one of the prisoners in the process.)

I don’t have enough words in the English language to praise this one. Honestly, I don’t. For one, the pace and the length is perfect. That we got the parts as quickly as we did was honestly such a treat, but then every part was just as high quality as the last. There are chapters in this one that made me go,��“holy shit, this would’ve been a novel I read”, and then there are little emotional impacts where the tone shifts, but it works so well. It’s SO HOT, and the AU is so perfect, and also helped inspire the one that I wrote last night with the “genie”. 

Unwind Me - delgay

“Think you can manage that? Sitting next to me, without picking a fight?” Michael challenged. “Can you?” Alex returned. “No idea,” Michael admitted with a sideways grin that never failed to make Alex’s stomach turn over, “But I’m eager to find out.” Alex is avoiding everyone, but he can’t seem to escape Michael.

This whole fic is intensely amazing, but it got on my rec list for the absolutely electric scene with the dancing that was absolutely beyond incredible. You also get Michael courting Alex, which is something he utterly deserves and I love the way Michael goes about it. 

we feel so american by thepredatorywasp

“Papa’s on the spaceship again?” River asks, his bright green eyes welling with tears and his face growing red. “Comin’ back?” “Of course he is,” Alex says, smoothing down the son’s hair and adjusting the Mickey ears atop his head. “Always.” There is no easy way to explain to your three year-old that not only is he an alien, but his Papa is an alien and that apparently, Michael loves leaning hard into irony because he has gone on Space Mountain approximately ten times over the course of four days.

LOOK. I LOVE A SWEET KID FIC. The next rec will prove this, but this one will melt your fucking heart. I love it because it’s not perfect and easy. There’s difficulties, there are issues, but it’s Michael and Alex and their baby boy in Disney and if you do not come away feeling warmer from this, then I just don’t know. 

We’re Waking Up Slow by myrmyriad

“I think need a little time to process all of this. Um. Storm’s getting closer and I don’t really wanna get snowed in here, so…let’s just talk later, okay?” What if the storm that blew in during S01E10 came in a lot faster and heavier, and Alex was snowed in at the junkyard?

Again, fic that makes me wish that I could write as well as this. This one makes you feel it all. You’ll feel the cold, the wet, the storm, the pain, the hope, the healing. You feel the connection between Michael and Alex, and you’ll be left wishing at the end that this had been how canon went, but also that it’s justifiably not that far off from how it could have, had they taken a different tack, because of how well it’s written. 

What’s Up, Pregnant? by Marie_L

Michael Guerin is broke, practically homeless, and a knocked up secret alien. What now?

Speaking of kid fics, this mpreg is one that I really like, because if nothing else, it introduced the concept of mpreg using pods to me in the fandom, and I kind of went, “YES, of course”. I love that it’s got everyone rallying, but I mostly love the psychic connection between Michael and his baby, and the softness of loving sugar and Alex. 

With Love Overflowing by Nestra

"We both agree that this is not the place we belong, right? Please say yes."

Michael tossed his hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "If you mean that your dad's been dead since CrashCon and some kind of crazy shit is going on, then yeah, I agree."

(This one was for me for Secret Santa, it is just THAT GOOD that I want everyone in the world to read it)

x marks the spot (where we fell apart) by catching_paper_moons, preciousthings

“Don’t write it off,” Alex says, and Liz is so relieved someone is coming to her defense, even if it’s someone who already knew beforehand. “Liz and Kyle have ideas, and there are people in this room with literal superpowers. It’s pretty much our only option.” “Our only option?” Isobel scoffs. “What are we, Ocean’s Eleven?”

[gogandmagog]

✨Anne Blythe’s (Anne Shirley-Blythe’s namesake granddaughter) father is not Jem. It’s Shirley. It’s totally Shirley, you guys. It’s gotta be.✨

And like, Ieading right off by saying of course there’s no definitive answer to be had here, since Maud obviously isn’t available to confirm or refute any hypothesises, but I do big persist in suggesting that a very rational case can be presented for Shirley... one that at least outweighs what I now see as the generally baseless widely accepted assumption that Anne is Jem’s daughter. Keep in mind, I’m in no way trying to dog on this. The assumption is ready and easy to make, and I’d accepted fully this theory too, until about a week agooo.

ABOUT A WEEK AGO, I was poring over various Wikipedia entries for the Anne book series, and inevitably also ended up looking through the edit history of those pages. While sorting through the edit history (super extensive and interesting, by the way), the username ‘blefebvre’ popped into the archive, contributing a ton of information to the Anne pages overall, around 2008 and 2009 particularly. And literally, who else could this user be besides THE Benjamin Lefebvre? Brilliant Maud scholar and essayist, inexhaustible editor and publisher of ‘the Blythes are Quoted’? Welllll, one of these edits, a written family tree of Anne and Gilbert’s grandchildren, mentioned Anne Blythe... and pointedly noted that she was either the daughter of Jem or Shirley.

Reading that? Already a huge jump-scare surprise to me. This immediately challenged what I thought I knew about the third generation of Blythes. I sat straight up in bed, brain doing a nosedive, like wait wait wait wait wait… hold on, what? We don’t know for sure? We don’t know for sure? 

Guys. We don’t know for sure. 

Whichhhhh sent me on an immediate hunt to gather up what we do know for sure. The facts we do have. And it wasn’t a huge task, either… there’s really not a lot to collect.

But here it is:

In ‘the Blythes are Quoted’, Anne Blythe is mentioned in only one story, titled “The Road to Yesterday” (not to be confused with the TBAQ abridged predecessor book of the same title 😅).

All we really have of her is her name, and a couple of superficial second-hand anecdotes from a guy named Jerry (who is impersonating a fellow named Dick, but more on this a little later).

Her paternity is unconfirmed, but because her surname is Blythe (not Ford or Meredith), we can logically eliminate the possibility of her belonging to Nan, Di, or Rilla. Walter was, of course, lost in France. This leaves Jem and Shirley. 

Tiny details about Anne.

As a matter of housekeeping, let me try to get the jump on any potential counter-arguments, and clear the air.

The only reason I’ve seen Jem credited with Anne is because…

1. Jem was married.

That’s the entire basis.

And I’ll grant you that. This is more than we got for Shirley. But let’s remember that at the end of ‘Rilla of Ingleside’, we only had a canon engagement between Jem and Faith... it takes getting around to ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ to absolutely conclude that their marriage went through. With the added extra bonus of finding out that they have children.

But even allowing that, ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ as an epilogue isn’t all inclusive. It isn’t a complete picture. It’s half a picture at the very best. Maud, pressured greatly, basically dumped all her disorganised, non-chronological and unedited Anne relevant WIPS + short stories + poems on her publisher's desk two days before she died. This is not a book that Maud put together, as a tailpiece collection. It was an assortment of partial works and in-character conversations that she’d tinkered with over decades. Works she never intended to see being published. They were vague ideas she was forming, little seeds. (It took a lot of effort from Benjamin Lefebvre to put TBAQ together in a readable way that made sense.)

Maud was over Anne. Over Anne by twenty years, at this point. So much so that noticeable character details and world building started slipping in Ingleside and Rilla… for obvious instance, in the lack of continuity around Shirley’s birth year, and the way readers saw almost no closure/representation for Shirley and Di, with varying degrees of near erasure in the original books. 

But this doesn’t mean that Maud didn’t have plans for these two characters... their incomplete or unsatisfying stories certainly weren’t nefariously intended to be that way (there’s no secret meaning to the exclusion); Montgomery was just depleted and had been feeling ruinously dispassionate about the Blythes stories since ‘Anne of the Island’.  

In ‘Reading Rilla’ we see in Maud’s many pages of left-out notes, that an ultimately scrapped journal entry from Rilla indicates that Diana Blythe wrote to their mother of her engagement to a foreign overseas officer. It’s unclear if this officer is the same ‘Austin boy’ that an older Glen woman in ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ privately wonders about (if Di 'really is engaged to him or not'), but this contradictory bit is probably just erroneous gossip from an unreliable narrator.  

Anyway. All of this to say... that just because we don’t have a canon marriage for Shirley, it doesn’t disqualify him from having had a wife and kids in Maud’s post-war Four Winds. TBAQ stories were, to reiterate, half-pictures. Pictures that did/could drop a plot bomb in a single sentence. Looping back to Di, canonly we don’t have a marriage for her either... and yet, we do have two engagements that half-register. One engagement was definitive, reported by Di herself. The other a passing curiosity from someone not close enough to the Blythe family to know.

So... clearly, Maud had active intention, a plan, for Di and her own little happy epilogue. The same can be believed for Shirley. (I’m dying for the day the ‘Rainbow Valley’ and ‘Ingleside’ manuscripts get published, I’m convinced there’s more Shirley be found in the notes.)   Now, let’s dig in to Anne Blythe herself.  

‘The Road to Yesterday’ is a short story about a woman named Susette (a spinster at 28), who is on the brink of an engagement to a wealthy man named Harvey Brooks. She expects the next day to be proposed to. On a whim and feeling nostalgic, she drives to Glen St. Mary, where she lived in her girlhood, for the evening. While there, she runs into a fellow, whom she believes to be Dick, her childhood bully who she hated profoundly. Except now, they’re grown and capable acting chummy over their shared memories. The weather takes a bad turn, and they take shelter and a meal together. Susette spends most of the time, all their ‘do you remembers’, being irritated by Dick’s constant name-dropping of the Blythes. He claims to have been kind of secret friends with Anne Blythe, which is contrary to Susette’s memory that Anne hated Dick. (In the end, it turns out that Susette was right… this isn’t Dick she’s talking to. It’s Jerry Thornton, Dick’s cousin.)

For the official record every Blythe mentioned in ‘the Road to Yesterday’ is as follows: Doctor Blythe, Mrs. Doctor Blythe, Rilla Ford, Jem Blythe [Jr.], Di Meredith [Jerry and Nan’s], and Anne Blythe.

It’s mostly a bunch of school yard talk, but the big takeaway for this purpose is that the Blythe/Meredith cousins all hung out together as school children.

Here’s some direct examples:

*****

*****

*****

The cheap boiled-down version of this exchange, for those who haven’t ‘the Road to Yesterday’ is basically: Susette is having strange feelings during this interaction with ‘Dick’, she’s attracted to him, declaring to herself that she won’t fall in love with him, and is clearly irritated with the near constant Anne Blythe (especially)/Blythe references. Though she herself was very fond of Jem Blythe Jr. herself, during their childhood, ‘Dick’ mentioning Anne Blythe so fondly is increasingly Not Cute to Susette. Meanwhile, ‘Dick’ is enjoying this kind of teasing, and is lowkey successful at getting a rise out of Susette, not matter how determined she is to look unaffected.  

But here’s the kicker... when ‘Dick’ finally leaves off mentioning Anne Blythe, guess what topic he moves on to? 🥁

The Royal Canadian Air Force.

And just who do we all know that was in the Royal Canadian Air Force?  

Shirley.

Only Shirley.  

First, it tracks that ‘Dick,’ soon enlisting (we’re on the brink of WWII timeline-wise), and thinking himself funny, would choose to move on from Anne Blythe to instead a subtler rib… what he, as a once good pal of Anne’s, would know was Anne’s dad’s war faction. It’s also in the realm of possibilities that thinking on Anne so much drew up this correlation. I also ALSO think it’s worth mentioning that the only other time that the Canadian Air Force is mentioned in TBAQ is a very passing drop for Rilla, thinking of her son Gilbert Ford enlisting with the CAF. That’s it. Just those two times.

Additionally important to note is the overall subtext tone in TBAQ, which is Maud’s very greatest collection of double-vision, double-speak and intertextual reference works. There’s a beautiful scholarly essay on this, in relation to TBAQ particularly HERE.

This doesn’t only apply to cultural references in TBAQ. It also adds layers to Maud’s own existing Anne series. It really could be considered a companion piece, with X-Ray vision, e.g. how we got a ton of ‘missing’ insight into Anne and her children’s lives and minds, during the Rainbow Valley era, in Part 1 of TBAQ.

Part 2 of TBAQ (where we find ‘the Road to Yesterday’) asks us to apply what we already know to the new text we’re given.

So, understanding this … if we’re going off what we already know from ‘Rilla of Ingleside’…

What’s the reason we have the Canadian Air Force mentioned in the same story that we learn of the existence of Anne Blythe? The connection?

It’s Shirley. 🥹

A weaker argument that I’ll only mention in mild passing, because it is very weak in terms of convincing evidence, is that the text unambiguously tells is that Anne Blythe has taught ‘Dick’ from Susan’s famous recipes. Susan is another Shirley tie. It’s there to be stated. BUT. I do admit that I think Susan would’ve taught every willing Blythe grandchild with the same zeal, maybe some partiality given to the Little Brown Boy’s kid(s).

BUT, for me?

I’m properly convinced here.

Shirley was a dad, ya’ll.

[draculasfavoritewife]

El Hambre (Hunger)

Summary: Getting Miguel to take a break is a full-time job unto itself, and requires a little extra incentive.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Spider!Reader

Warnings: Lots of suggestive talk. Miguel being an ass hehe. A risky make-out in a public space, idiots in love CANNOT keep their hands to themselves. I put far too much of my descriptive powers into talking about how devastatingly sexy Miguel is. Also for my intents and purposes, Reader understands and speaks Spanish.

Note: I use the shortened version of his name "Mique" in my own writing just because I personally prefer it. Swap it with whatever nickname you prefer in your head :)

This is one of my personal favorite pieces I've written, and still makes me giggle like an evil maniac whenever I return to reread/edit it. I have shamelessly watched every Miguel scene in ATSV far too many times and will continue to do so; his image is already tattooed on the backs of my eyelids. As mentioned in my HCs, reader is a spider-hero, but I left her pretty vague on purpose -- feel free to fill in her costume/powers/skill set with your own spidersona!

*Spanish translations at the end! (I am fairly bilingual, but if I made a lil mistake here or there do forgive me)

He hasn’t turned away from his myriad glowing monitor screens in nearly ten minutes, standing like a damn statue with his feet wide apart and hands braced on his trim hips, only lifting to sharply swipe through any screens that serve him no purpose. Each tiny shift of weight, the rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes, all the little things that prove he is still, in fact, alive, cast soft highlights over the swell and dip of taut muscle, every part of him coiled and ready to explode into action like the perfect hunting machine he is. 

Right now, though, his eyes are burning from overexposure to even the dim interior of his watch station, and with an annoyed sigh he turns his face to the side, long fingers rubbing furiously at where the bridge of his nose meets his brow in the hope of chasing away the dull ache gnawing there. 

“You do know that even though I don’t have spider-sense I can still hear you, right?” 

You let go of your strand of web and drop lightly to the platform behind him, pulling off your mask and tucking it away. “What gave me away, the sound of me drooling as I stared too long?” 

Shocking hell.

You’re in one of those moods. 

Miguel can’t quite decide if he’s too tired for this right now or if he’s curious how far you’ll try and push him on his home turf. And it’s that indecision that starts him digging his own grave. 

“I was going to say the way your heartbeat spikes every time you set foot in this room.” His voice comes out sweet and thick as honey, because he knows exactly what that tone does to you when he uses it.

“...And I can still smell my clothes on you. Did you sleep in my shirt again?” 

“Maybe.”

Actually, you’d fallen asleep in a veritable pile of his clothes — it had been a bit since he’d had a free night, okay, and you weren’t desperate you just missed him. 

That makes him chuckle. He can probably tell you’re omitting the whole truth. 

Miguel finally turns to fully face you, and you inhale quickly as always, at the way he towers so far above your head, how his wide shoulders block out the light from his screens so his silhouette swallows you in darkness. His hair is messy, and there are deep shadows under his eyes, but his pretty mouth is slanted in a wry grin and the set of his thick eyebrows hints at underlying amusement. 

“Cute,” is what he remarks at your wide blinking eyes and rapidly heating skin, and it makes him smirk wickedly, to see how that one word flusters you for the barest of seconds. You’ve told him multiple times that you hate being called “cute” by anybody else, but ever since the first time the word slipped past his lips when he really realized just how much smaller you were underneath his body….

Well, he knows the effect it can have. 

You scowl and regain your composure. “Don’t call me that.” 

Miguel’s only response is an easy shrug, a lift of one shoulder. “What’d you bring me?” He nods at the containers in your hands. 

“Entitled prick.” With a dramatic flourish, you whip them away from his claw-tipped fingers. “What makes you think these are for you?” The exchange is back in your court with his query, and you intend to keep it there. 

“Aren’t they always?” Dark eyes zero in on yours, their softness in the gloom betraying what the gesture means to him even if he won’t say it. 

With a huff, you thrust the thermos and small box into his chest, pretending you don’t keenly notice the way the impact sends a ripple through his impressive pectorals. “Coffee. And those stupid little empanadas you love so much.” 

“Not stupid.” He takes them from your grasp much more delicately than someone with hands so large should be able to. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a single craving for subpar food? Keeps me human.” 

He’s baiting you, knows that the words “not since I tasted you” are on the very tip of your tongue, because that’s just how your dirty mind works and he loves it. Can see the struggle on your face as you resolve not to say them aloud, and that almost goads him on more, to know you’re thinking it and just barely holding out so he doesn’t get the upper hand again quite yet. 

You settle yourself on a nearby console and gaze expectantly at him, swinging your legs. 

He gives you the side-eye as he sets your offerings down next to his work station.

“What.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you eat something,” you inform him sweetly. 

Miguel groans. “Ay, loca, no eres mi madre. I’ll eat when I’m done running these last projections, okay?” 

You obstinately sit cross-legged on the console and make a show of getting comfortable for the long haul. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me, Handsome. I meant what I said.” 

He glares.

You glare back. 

Finally he opens the box with painstaking slowness — you see the way his nostrils flare at the scent of hot food, though you know he’d deny it — and he takes a large bite, maintaining eye contact the entire time he chews and swallows, each motion dripping with mockery. His tongue runs across the length of his upper lip far too sensually to be accidental, and you just catch the points of his fangs glinting in the partial darkness. 

“Better?” he drawls, dropping the empanada back in its container and leaning towards you. 

“That was one miserable bite! Doesn’t count.” 

His lip curls in a taunting sneer, and before you know what’s happening one of his powerful arms is on either side of you, his head cocked to one side as he studies you through half-lidded eyes. “Maybe your ears don’t work, Sweetheart. Tú no eres mi madre. ¿Comprendes?” 

You decide to change tactics. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go. But —“ you gently push a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead, pausing to kiss the stress lines between his eyebrows. “— when was the last time you slept, Mique?” 

He rolls his eyes. “This morning —“ 

“For more than twenty minutes.” 

That makes him think. And by the way his gaze guiltily slides away from yours, he knows you won’t like the answer. “…When was the last time I stayed with you?” 

You sigh and cradle his strong jaw in your hands, thumbs massaging soft circles into his skin to get him to unclench his teeth. “That was four nights ago, Mique.” 

A long exhale escapes him, and he rests his head against your chest. It warms you, that he feels safe enough in the moment to let down his guard and actually show such intimate affection in his workspace. 

Or maybe he’s just that tired.

Either way, you’ll take it. 

You start working his back and shoulder muscles, kneading deeply into the firm knots where you know he holds onto everything — anger, grief, guilt, worry — Miguel does not talk through the mess in his head, preferring instead to let it fuel his savage strength. But when the adrenaline at last wears off, you know the toll it can take on his body. 

A sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and altogether far too suggestive for the time and place, rolls from deep in his chest and his hands tighten on the edge of the console, metal protesting as his talons curl into the hard surface. “Mierda. That’s tight.” 

“Should I stop?” You can’t quite tell if his reactions are spurred more by pain or pleasure.

With Miguel, the two often travel hand-in hand, anyway. 

“No.” To your disbelief, his hands uncurl from where they’re sunk into the console and travel to find your legs, teasing them apart so he can shove himself even closer and you have nowhere else to put them than around his waist, your heels resting just above his ass. “Keep going. Feels good.” 

“Someone’s touchy today, huh? And not in the usual way,” you tease, and then suddenly yelp as his hot, searching mouth lands right in the center of your chest, very noticeable through the thin material of your suit. One of his hands immediately clamps over your mouth to stifle any further sounds. 

“Cállate, Chula,” he warns, finally raising his eyes to yours again. You can see the crimson starting to smolder through in his irises, a sure sign that he’s giving in to having you right here in front of him, that you just might be a better use of his time than his projected calculations of multiverse-wide collapse.

He could use a break.

“You know people can hear you.” 

You push his hand aside. “Right, and that was totally way more audible than whatever sound you just made a minute ago.” 

“You know how I feel about it when you’re a brat to me,” he growls, snagging your lower lip with his thumb. 

“I think you love it,” you whisper, one of your own hands sliding up the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his dark hair. 

“I think that disrespectful mouth needs to be put to better use.” 

He hasn’t ever kissed you in his workspace before, and the forbidden feeling of it as he pushes you down on your back, pinning you to the console and stopping your mouth with his own sends a jolt down the entire length of your spine. Miguel has always been a wild kisser when he’s properly worked up, and you gasp out loud as his sharp teeth nip your lip, immediately followed by his tongue soothing the momentary sting. 

“I told you to be quiet,” he hums as he at last lets your mouths break apart. 

“You didn’t say you were gonna bite me, Cariño!” 

His answering smile is a wider one than you’ve seen in days. “Why would you ever assume no biting with me, Baby?” 

“…Fair point.” 

It takes you a minute to realize his fingertips are teasing the neck of your suit down bit by bit, leaving more and more of your throat exposed. “¿Qué haces, Mique?” 

He shushes you, this kiss a little more romantic and drawn out than the last. “You said you’d sit here ’til I ate something, hmm?” 

“Y-yes….” 

His gaze burns dark red and you suddenly feel the entire weight of him trapping you in place. 

“Well lucky you, pretty girl — you look a lot tastier than a cafeteria empanada right now.” 

He keeps one hand over your mouth as he attacks your neck, your shoulders, your wrists, anywhere that he knows gets a shiver out of you and that you’ve told him he can leave a mark. You try to keep still, you really do, but it's almost impossible with the Spanish endearments he mutters in your ears and the way his lips, teeth, and tongue take you on a seemingly endless rollercoaster of sensation. You hear him hiss once or twice when his onslaught makes your thighs tighten around his hips, but you can’t help it, can’t help trying to pull his body even closer, even though his heartbeat is already thundering against yours and your desperate breaths are rocking his lungs. 

When he finally uncovers your mouth again to let you take in more air, you splay your hands across his wide chest, prodding at the nearly-nonexistent layer of his digital suit. “Off.” 

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he murmurs regretfully, and to your dismay, he suddenly releases you, picking up the coffee you brought him and swearing briefly in Spanish when he realizes it’s not as hot as he wanted anymore. “They’re looking for you.” 

You sit up quickly at the sound of youthful voices echoing faintly in the corridors but getting closer — your spiderlings, no doubt, wondering what on earth took you so long bringing O’Hara his dinner. You’re a mess, you realize, hair disheveled and suit boasting several tears in unfortunate areas where his claws caught, the skin beneath already bruising wherever his mouth was. 

“Catch your breath,” he advises around another bite of empanada, with all the smug tone of a life coach having just witnessed a breakdown (as if he wasn’t the sole cause of that breakdown). “You’ll need it, to explain away all of that.” 

“I hate you, Miguel O’Hara.” You grit your teeth and slide off of his equipment, halfheartedly readjusting yourself and tamping down the rising tide of desire he had the audacity to start. “You and that fancy body glove of yours.” 

“Just because no one can see what your nails have done to my back doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he offers flippantly, as if that will do anything to fix your current state. “And I know by ‘hate’ you really mean ‘violently need me to make up for stopping short’. I have to come by for some of my missing clothes later anyway.” 

Hope blossoms in your chest. “You’re coming over tonight?” 

A thoughtful sip of coffee. “Unless LYLA kills me first for making her watch us go at it. I’ll pick something up for dinner, too. And who knows….” He steps closer, his free hand wandering from your back all the way down to your thigh and up again. “Maybe, if you tire me out real good, I’ll even get some sleep like you want?” 

Anticipation bubbles through your veins at the thought.

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.” 

He gives your hip a sharp squeeze. “Atta girl.” 

A burst of chatter below heralds the arrival of your little clan of doting spider-kids, so you gather your wits and swing down to meet them, praying none of them put two and two together and actually get four. 

Miguel glances over the edge of the platform, and barely hides his satisfaction and amusement at the immediate flood of concern and questions that greets you: “What did this to you?! Are you okay?!”. 

He almost considers coming down there and setting the record straight when he hears you say, “It’s okay, Kids, really, don’t worry about it. Just got chomped a few times by a giant angry spider while I was on a mission. But he’s gonna pay for it next time, I swear.” 

No eres mi madre = You're not my mother

¿Comprendes? = Understand?

Mierda = (Expletive)

Cállate, Chula = Be quiet, Cutie

Cariño = Honey, Sweetheart

¿Qué haces? = What are you doing?

[doublekanble]

deer (after the car crashed)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic

word count: 4.7k

Or, a confession, (somewhat) note: not nesnecessarily connected, but IS written in the spirit of deer (iahl). someone said p2 where he confessed and i thought 'he would've never, he would do every romantic thing in the book and cry over your dead body but he will never ask you out. reader got hurt, non-descriptive as i am but a silly guy, very possibly wrong description of a little medical things.

The gramophone in the corner of your room play a tune that he himself isn’t exactly fond of, but didn’t exactly hate. It’s been your favorite ever since you spent more than a month of your wages to win an “online” bidding war for the limited release. As he hum along, he held onto your jaw, fingers sharp and all claws doing its best to not leave so much a scratch on your chin. Just as gently, he let the tip of a thermometer sits on your tongue, and close your mouth.

Finished, but not leaning back, he take a second to look at you, almost a sneer on his face at your state, he trust that by the time you wake up, you can still remember the faces of whoever it is that harmed you. Even if you can’t, he mused, he’ll help you. Hopefully you know how to recognize bones structure. He turn back to the book he left half-way through and pick up where he left off, a book you tried to read several times. Would you let him spoil the ending, he wonder. Reaching for his neat whiskey as he scanned the line printed on yellowed paper, he down it in one go.

(somewhat, Alastor let the thought fester, he also became a culprit. Having time after time parading you by his side, thinking that he can always shelter you)

 You’ve always been good at giving books recommendations, despite finishing only a handful of them. You’re also a delight to be around, much more than anyone in the hotel can ever afford to be. Always finding himself around you, adding seconds to minutes to hours, and then when he would check the time, you both would’ve already missed dinner, talking about nothing all the while.

(he would laugh, and you would chuckle, and he offers you meat, and you'd denied. You don’t feel like eating that day, you’d say. That’s how he started checking up on you, even though eating is nothing more than a passing hobby down here in Hell)

Needless to say, you’re his favorite, worming into his heart in such a short amount of time. It’s even much more redundant to even bother insinuating that he might do everything he can just to keep you safe. Having taken enough time to think about the unfamiliar emotions you stirred in his heart, he decided that it’s welcomed to stay for as long as he wants it to. As such, Alastor acquainted himself with the need to make sure you’ll never have to worry about a single missing strand of hair on your head. Always more of a caretaker, he finds it utterly adorable how your nonchalant demeanor always falters under his relentless care. Never the heart to deny it, but never fully accepting it either.

And it should’ve stayed that way, with you blubbering about and tripping over your own words while acting like nothing is wrong, and him hovering over you, grinning as he brush off whatever you gotten onto your clothes that day. But it couldn’t possibly stay that way when you’re lying on your bed wrapped up and unresponsive, unable to even give him an excuse as to why you stumbled back through the front door after what supposed to be a quick errand trip, scaring poor Charlie to death with ugly, gnarling gashes in the shape of long running lines down your arms and several red holes staining your shirt, one logged deeply in your left inner thigh. You would promptly pass out the moment she rush to your side and stays that way for three days and two horrible, grueling night.

He wasn’t even there, staying in his radio tower for the day. Assuming that you’ll come to him if you needed something, he let his shadows rest at the corner of his eyes. Only when Husk burst into the room -furs all frazzled and sweaty- that he knows. When he came down to you, you’re out like a light for at least three hours already, Angel sitting on your bed with two bullet in a red cup sitting at his side. His pink and white gloves stained red, it trembles as he drop yet another one into the cup, then slowly goes back to gently reaching in for another one.

“Can’t afford to work fast, been some months since I hafta pull anything out on my own. Heh.” He laughs to soothe himself, shuddering under his breath. Saying that, Angel makes it clear he doesn’t trust anyone else to do this. The sheets that Nifty changed for you already turning red, the one at the foot of the bed brown. The unfortunate downside to natural healing is that you tend to bleed for a long time until you're stable enough for your meat to reconnect.

(the bottom of his shoes would later step on that same brown, mixing another red into it. He was -and still is- torn open at the thought)

Alastor likes to play up the lie that he doesn’t understand fear or anxiety, pretend that he have never been at the feet of anyone else other than himself. And he would go through the duration of your relationship letting you see him as such. He’s someone you can rely on; someone you can trust with everything you have without the lingering fear that he’ll pull it from under you one day. But you always been individualistic to a degree, it was never a problem before.

(you dislike not knowing where to go and what to say, so you never do anything or say anything that might ruin the perception people have of you. You seems so close off like that, he said. You’re not, you insisted, you’d let anyone you love in as long as they ask)

Briefly, as he seated back onto the armchair now sitting right by your bedside, thermometer back in hand, he ponders about how he must’ve looked to the others when he first step into the room. You yourself are often entertained by the macabre sight of his much more unpleasant form, calling it endearing at times. But the others are much less appreciative of it. They don’t come in that often, anyway, only Nifty and Angel does. It’s not that they don’t care about you, it’s simply that he deemed them completely and utterly useless.

(he wonders when you woke up, will you let him back in, already knows how it'll play out)

Vaggie busied herself with taking care of Charlie, who can’t look at you without bursting into tears. Her weeping heart normally is entertaining to see in action, but an on-edge and scared Charlie is a messy Charlie, and she nearly pour hot water on you and Angel Dust - who hurriedly covered you up with his lanky frame. He appreciate the spider demon extended effort in keeping you safe, having only left to pick out a disc to put back into the gramophone himself.

Through gnashing teeth and a too-wide smile, Alastor asked Vaggie to keep check on her dear partner. And they haven’t been seen near your room since. Promised by Angel to come by and give updates whenever he can.

Nifty’s appearance would be much more erratic. At first, it’s to take away things that Angel stops using, cleaning it up and putting it back to its spot. Then after that, bringing with her tea and biscuits Pentious made and practically begged her to bring to you that would, in turn, sit on the bedside table until her next visit to change the sheets and duvet again. He can tell she’s a bit more bothered by the fact that you’re still bleeding onto the sheets than you being unconscious. She did ask him when you’ll be awake. He doesn’t know.

(he can’t fathom the idea of you pushing him away. but the taste of dirty copper stains the roof of his mouth for the days you wasted away on your bed)

And Angel, much more agitated than anyone else, much more competent than everyone else, grumbles about how hard it is to change your bandages with Alastor hovering over his shoulders. After the 3rd time, he figured the demon would never stop, so he let him keep watch.

Alastor would’ve done it himself, not trusting the spider (or anyone else for that matter) with touching you now that his part in clearing your wounds is done, if not for how his eyes lingers on your right hand, your dominant hand. The one with the tear in the web between your pointer and middle finger, running down by at least 3 centimeters, sewn shut with skills Alastor almost wishes he have. He hates that he fully understood why Angel would be staring down at you with such a miserable expression.

When you’re bleeding finally stable enough so that you don’t need the bandages change as much anymore, Angel would come by with a thermometer, placing it in his hand and asked him to keep check on you and change your bandages if needed while he himself went off to make up for the work he “missed out on”. His phone now finally back in his hand after the constant ringing in the 7th hour nearly cracked Alastor’s patient, left behind with Fat Nuggets.

(Husk would come by one time, on the fourth hour of your rest. Alastor would leave for one. When he came back, Angel doesn’t have the heart to questioned why he reeks, simply chiding him to try and go change)

Holding it in his hand and turning it over, he look at the readings and think you would’ve thanked God for your wounds not being infected, or at least enough to give you a fever. Angel did well. He thinks about how downright disgusting the wounds looked on you despite seeing so much worse in his time. It won’t scar you, but it’ll take more than a week for you to even hold a pen, let alone moving it without any pain. At least it’ll heal. He would’ve killed God if he could.

Returning to his (your) book, he felt a pit forming in his stomach, you’re easy to read, he’ll know what to do once you talk again. Alastor pretends he doesn’t feel fear, but it certainly is much more unpleasant when it’s about someone else. He expected you to wake up soon, if it’s not tomorrow, he doesn’t know how he can hold it back, taste of copper still stuck to his teeth.

--

It took you five days and five night for you to start opening up your eyes. Six and a half for you to rasped out a weak apology for making him worried, being hand-fed as much water and porridge as possible in between the short sentence before you immediately fell back onto your pillow and sleep for the rest of the day. Angel Dust who was there at the time slipped away to pass out the good news to the rest of the hotel residents.

Despite so, nobody enters the room more than once for rest of the night. In their stead, hand-made paper flowers and get-well-soon cards stays with you on your bedside table. He knows they’re making something else in the main lobby, and it’s absolutely hilarious to him that they think you’ll be able to walk anytime soon to see it yourself. One time, Pentious tail bump the garbage can on his way out, Alastor can feel his terrified gaze, but choosing not to pay the fool any mind. Your right hand in his left, he sit with a glass of whiskey on the rock instead, armchair now sitting next to your bed and facing the bundle of gifts.

(Husk would come in twice before the dawn came to give him two more drink and to give you a lousy card, clearly been made by Charlie in his stead. He waited for Alastor’s permission before placing it on top of the pile with all the others)

At early dawn, he held himself back as you stir awake. Your hand wrapped in his, giving him a squeeze so weak he barely able to feel it. but he felt it nonetheless, and in spite of his wearing sanity, he simply returns the gesture and lifted your hand up to his thinning grin.

“Good morning darling, you gave us quite the scare there. I hope you’re finally awake enough to know where you are?”

Still with that charming tone, but so much smaller and quiet in the room. He waited for your reaction to see how far off you are from consciousness, when the corner of your lip stretches just a bit, he smile with a bit more heart, but it still border on exhaustive. Turning the words sitting on his tongue, back and forth after the relief finally settled, he wonders if it's worth it.

Placing the half-finished whiskeys on your bedside table and accidentally draws your eyes to all of the get-well gift. Not too awake yet, you look back at him with a blank expression and his rotted heart jumps in his chest.

“Ah, those.” he heave a sigh, “They’re from the lots here. You’ve missed a group exercises or two dear.” He leans over you, mindful to not pull your arm with him. Even so, your eyes squinted just a bit, it breaks him more than he’d ever want to admit. “I’d suggest you get used to it though. It’ll be quite some time before you can leave the room.” Borderline on warning you, yet tone still playful, he watches as you breathe and turn your head towards the ceiling, eyes off him.

“…I figured…” You’re so pitiful like this ,he thought as he poured a cup of water for you with one hand, not minding the cards and flowers that fell off in the meantime, they can wait until he’s done with this.

You made a miserable attempt at sitting to take the cup on your own for all of a second before you drop back down with a quiet “oofm”, the bed barely creaks while you seethed and writhed, cursing under your breath, hand finally leaving his to set itself on the soft surface. It’s shaking, your entire body, that is. Briefly, you try to open your right hand, and you stop. Separately, he cursed you and your wretched independence.

“Hurt?”

“I'm surprised I'm still alive…”

“It’s no wonder,” Alastor carefully lifted your head up, bringing the cup to your lips and let you take slow sip as he starts, tone just a tad bit too grating, “you did come crawling back to the hotel with 5 bullet in your torso and more than a few scratches that our fellow spider friend almost can’t handle! Really! I’d be glad to still be breathing if I were you.”

His words almost too fast for someone who just woke up from a week-long coma to get and he knows. But Alastor have been sitting in an armchair that felt one size too small for him for seven days constantly going through your two records and 3 books and reliving the moment he sees you on your bed with your eyes closed shut like a corpse in a casket. So even as he lay your head down and put the cup away, gesture loving and gentle, he still can’t help but to sneer at you.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to die again. You know that if you really wanted to, I would’ve gladly assisted you with leaving this side of the living world. Or the dead! No need for scraping scraps off the road.” He tries to play it off as a joke, laughing a bit to himself. But he knows you know. At the sounds of your beloved song being drown out by his growing static, he tries to keep his composure still. “What was it that got you stumbling through the door like a kicked pup on the road, by the by? Did you got caught in the storm drain picking up daisies? A run-in with a past nemesis? Please, do feel free to share, dear. You were so eager to run off on your own with that little errand of yours without a word to me after all.”

It's something that he compels you to do early on when he started taking you out with him. Simply inform him when you planned to leave the hotel alone, especially if it was to some much fouler part of the Pride Ring. Let alone the trail of dried blood that Husk traced after was irritatingly far from the hotel. You didn’t just stumble into the hotel on your last leg, you dragged yourself back to him one coin from your death bed.

It's been seven days, and the taste of copper still lingers. Alastor is not a patient man, but he likes to think he tried his best to be, especially with you. But the more you stay silent without even facing him, the more he can feel his self-restraints pulling at the seams, so close to breaking.

“That’s not funny, Alastor.”

Without time to even mourn the façade he plays up for you that long since crumbled to dust, Alastor hovers over you, fingers digs and tears at the sheet. It’s a habit grown bad, the way he defaults to less-than-vague threatening gestures and mocking words the moment he feels too vulnerable, something you picked up on naturally and never bothered poking him with. But the more he lingers by your side, the more he’s aware that he simply cannot just do that to you, someone who can freely walk off from him. And with his growing need to keep you by his side, you would more likely be hurt by him than anyone else in all of Hell.

“It never was supposed to be, dear. Now, do I have to pry it out of you or do you want to tell me why?”

For seven days and six nights have he been thinking. If he learns to keep you somewhere no one else can see you, Alastor would’ve never found you on the stained bed with bullets decorating your innards.

(this anger should’ve never been directed towards you, but somewhere deep in his wretched, rotted heart, he thought that you should’ve stayed away in the first place, he begged that you yell at him so he can finally leave you alone)

And Alastor would’ve gone on, would’ve said something even more nasty to pull some kind of reaction out of you, but you, with your eyes looking out what part of the window that the curtain haven’t covered up and a voice so small he can hold in one hand. Almost like you’re sorry.

“They say it’s because I know you.”

And he let himself fall by the foot of your bed.

It’s a snicker at first, then a chuckle, then he start to laugh. And he keeps laughing as his claws pulls at the sheets and left marks just as ugly as it was on your arms. Claws as sharp as the one that have dug itself into you, now tearing lines into your duvet and sheets and bedding and open up scars. But your warmth grows apparent as your trembling fingers held onto his claws. And despairingly, he held onto you.

Even though he already know, even though he was frantically getting into your face and forcing you to confirmed what he learned by the middle of the fifth hour. Alastor still feel a horrible sense of defeat washes over him as he held tightly onto your right hand, the information’s utterly revolting, coming directly from you.

And even knowing that he’s hurting you, he still refuses to let go as your bandages slowly bleeds red. Promises to himself that if you let go, he will. And when your other hand reaches over, your breathing’s heavy, he prayed you’d pry his hands off yours. And when you didn’t. It takes everything he have to not lock you away forever and never letting you out.

“I don’t want to bother you so much. It wasn’t even supposed to be that far of a trip, but I panicked and didn't realized they were leading me from the hotel…” you paused, wanting to go on but wasn’t sure how to soothe him while the implication kills him. Just what sort of godly deeds did he ever do throughout his life and death to have you by his side? And just what sort of unearthly karma is placed upon you for you to be stuck by his?

You know this happened because of your ties to him, but there’s not a lick of anger from your end as you give him the time and privacy he barely granted you to collect himself. And as time pass on without a word from both side, you start to drift off, still beyond tired even after the long rest. But he can feel your hands still holding onto his. Oh, what a pair, you and him. An idiot that refuses to leave and a dog that can’t let go. The last song plays before he needs to reset the needle as he gather the strength to clear his throat and break the silence.

“I’m sorry dear, I-,” He rasped out, voice strained and unsteady, having laughed himself raw, it sounded as if he’s the one that just came back from the death. “I know you won’t be gone for long, but I simply just-“ neither the gun or bullets he held in his hand at that time are made with Angelic metals, they would beg and cry out to him. The bastards couldn’t have afforded enough to spare you any. But it doesn’t do well to quench the pain in his heart, neither would it let the wound on your body heal any faster.

He laugh a light and airy laugh, unable to tell you what you already know. “I must beg for your forgiveness mon cher. It seems I simply can’t handle the idea of being parted from you for too long anymore.”

(like mocking, beloved, but shouldn’t have never been his, you shouldn’t have gotten stuck with a rotting corpse of a deer chained to a tree, but he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, so you’re his)

“That was genuinely shitty of you.” Right to the point. Despite you letting him hanging onto you so desperately, despite holding onto him so kindly, you never bothered to mince your word, more than exasperated, almost like you’re scolding a child. “I know you said that because you’re upset too. But if you were anyone else, I would’ve actually just, kick you out.”

Dragging himself up, careful to keep your wounds from flaring up with any more pain than it already had, he sits right next to you, bringing himself closer to your face and placing your right hand into his lap, almost like croaking, the static in his voice comes in and out. “I know, dear. Whatever it is I can do to make amends. I will.” He will leave if you asked him to, if only Alastor is anything else but a selfish dog, he will never let you know.

“I don’t want you to fix anything, Al. Just-“ he relaxed his grip, hearing you called him like that again, in such a voice, something blooms inside him again, he mourned your fate. “try to not do that again, yeah? It feels like shit waking up after all of that and then getting yell at.”

Chuckling humorlessly, of course you would ask for something so simple. He lie down next to you, storing the little mundane sight of your much more relaxed face so close to his off into the back of his head. “Of course, my dear. I vowed with all of my heart, or- whatever’s left of it.” Something like this will never, ever happened again. Not as long as he’s still breathing. And you, too eager to place the unfortunate incident behind you, but too worn out to laugh along, you simply smiles and close your eyes, face flushes red.

“Whatever you say, fucking dork…”

“Oh, such ghastly insults! How will I ever survive?” he turns over and lie on his stomach, hand holding up his head while leaning over you, play with your unkempt hair like a maiden in love. “And right after I spent my days keeping over you! What a heartbreaker you truly are, darling. I wonder what dear old Charlie would say to such a foul mouth?”

Your mouth open for a bit, then screwed itself shut, words failed to form as you try to hold in a giggle at his antics. Despite your gramophone still playing the same set of songs since last week, his heart finally get to rest when the atmosphere in your room grows much brighter. For your sake, he let you find your footing while brushing bangs into your face. Your breathing is still heavy, tinged with pain and what else that will surely follow you for the next gruesome month, but at least you’re laughing.

And then, as if on loose tongue, you stop him dead in his track. “Why do you call me that?”

Alastor froze, the claws dancing on your forehead moved to held onto the side of it, nearly nicked you in the process. He forced you to face him.

“Do enlighten me darling. What do I call you?”

“Like that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

(you’re silly, but not clueless. He knows you’re smarter than this. But then again, he doesn’t know if you know he’s yours just yet)

“ Y’know… like-“ impossibly, affectionately, you’re much redder than he’d ever seen you, now stumbling over your words, “like…darling?”

“Yes, dear~?” without missing a beat, he replied.

“You b-! Argh…”

(he could get used to this)

You nearly sat up, then immediately quiet down and seethe at him through your teeth. He laugh in returns and pat your cheek affectionately. “You ought to be more careful dearest~! At this rate, you’ll be here for-“

“Stop that!” your roar, something akin to a small kit, voice barely able to stay steady enough to comprehend. “You know what I’m trying to say! I don’t get it!”

He smiles, hand going back to messing with your hair. “I do not get what you’re trying to implied,” baring his teeth while you gritted yours, “sweetheart~”

(a rotting piece of meat, sitting next to a flowerbed, what a sight you two made)

It’s endearing how hard you try to act upset, with your smiles barely differentiate from a grimace and eyes that refused to look at him. “They’re pet name, Al.” he lift your chin towards him, kicking his feet in the air. “It’s personal, isn’t it? You don’t call anyone else that either…” you’re finally starting to gawk the distance between you and everyone else from his eyes. Better late than never, as his mother always told him.

“Correct! You’re such a charming little thing, trust me, but it’s honestly rather demoralizing waiting for you to pick up on it dear! I thought it would’ve taken much quicker, let alone it took until you climbed out of Hades gate to realized.”

“Pick up on what??”

“What do you think?”

"...That you...see me as a pet???"

(he hope you won’t pick up on the smell)

He knows you enough to know you will never let yourself say it out loud until he does. But Alastor is nothing but a patient man. Grin stretching across his face, he pecks your forehead and lifted himself off the bed as you can do nothing else but to loudly protested him. He sings to you as he open the door, “I’ll be seeing you in a bit mon chéri, so do feel free to rest a bit more. We shouldn’t keep the others hanging over this good news!”

“I swear to GOD I will kill you with my bare hands Alastor!”

“Ooh how exciting! I’ll be waiting for that day then. If you can get out of bed by the next month that is!”

Your yelling cut off the moment he’s gone from sight, you’re surely processing it all now. What an exciting thought.

Alastor would’ve rather you two have this conversation under any other scenario, but really, you don’t get to be too picky. He prance off as midday approached, planning on showing you the bones he kept in a box on top of his fireplace later on.

(he hope you’ll learn to live with the contorting shadow that’ll be walking along with you from now on. He might be a dead corpse dragging itself along, but as long as you would let him. You’ll be right by his side)

[thatanimewriter]

KEEPER.

➳ synopsis: you were put up for adoption the day you were born, and though you don’t exactly hate your life, you can’t help but think ‘if a day old baby isn’t enough to keep, what is?’

➳ character/s: sebastian michaelis, grell sutcliffe, joker, gregory violet

➳ warnings: swearing, mentions of abortion (sebastian), hurt/comfort, they/them pronouns for grell because i am not getting into the ‘man or woman’ argument again-

➳ notes: this is by far the most vent-y thing i’ve ever written thus far because i am LITERALLY in the same position as the reader in this. same ‘backstory’ same thoughts SO THIS IS JUST ME EXPELLING FEELINGS I PROMISE I’M OK ._. 

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒.

he probably noticed you had insecurities very fast

didn’t know what over though

he thought about snooping around to figure it out

it was the constant scanning of a room and impeccable perception of body language for him

it felt like you were constantly ready for something to go wrong

and you HAD to be there to comfort and support every time someone was upset

didn’t find out about anything for a while until it was mother’s day and you hid for a little bit of the day

sebastian also probably snooped in your desk and found some letters with vent-y things written in them

things like maybe your parents should’ve gotten an abortion

you don’t understand why anyone would ever love you because the people who were supposed to love you ended up giving you away

nothing you do is ever good enough

now that he knows the reason behind some weird behaviour, there’s a lot more understanding 

he’ll put more effort into making you feel better about simply existing

and lots of praise to let you know you’re doing good and that you’re enough

but he doesn’t miss the expression you make when he tells you these things

he knows you still don’t believe him

it’s ok, he’ll just have to make you believe him eventually :))

── 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄.

dotes on you all the time

because of that, they probably don’t realise you still have problems with being loved

they love you so much, what do you mean you think they’re lying??

they picked up on it the first time they told you they love you and reasons they love you

because you looked REALLY uncomfortable

n they were like “omg did i say something wrong-”

no, it’s just that you think you’re incapable of being loved, grell didn’t do anything wrong

when you first told them that was the reason

AUDIBLE GASP

and a big therapy session with our icon

they probably cried when you said you don’t think you’ll ever be enough for anyone or anything

would like to try to help you, but they have no clue how to get you to think otherwise

so i guess you just need to get used to them being your partner

because they’re not gonna abandon you (even if you were as a baby) and they love you to the moon and back >:((

grell still cries to themselves when they think about how little trust you have in people caring for you

will now probably kill whoever decides to tell you that no one loves you because you’re adopted

death scythe to the neck, baby

── 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑.

would understand you the most, but not fully

he’s still adopted in a way, so he understands the trauma behind it

but he’ll still ask you about it to understand

he likely already knew about your backstory, but he didn’t realise how much being orphaned at day one really took a toll on you

it was a lot of frankly overwhelming offers to help that made him suspicious

because he doesn’t think anyone else has offered help so much even when they probably can’t afford to do so

notices that you work yourself so hard to the point of fainting and is super concerned

when he asked about it and you said you feel like a waste of space if you’re not being productive, he’s a very sad boy

very set on letting you recognise that you don’t need to be ‘of use’ for people to want to be around you and be friends with you

but he will start helping you as well to make you see that he isn’t trying to take advantage of your kindness

you can have nice late night therapy sessions with him if you ever want to talk about things

like how you do things to trick yourself into thinking you’re being productive like playing a little puzzle game they have in the circus

he for sure understands the part where you have both attachment and abandonment issues

you meet new people and it’s like a honeymoon phase

and then quickly you start overthinking if you’re being annoying or if they hate you about a week later

he’s always there to cheer you up when that happens

lots of words of affirmation, even if you struggle to accept them

── 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓.

he’s so eccentric that oddly enough

i think he’d be the best at actually taking in and interpreting the information

in an artistic way, of course :))

but he always wanted to use you as a model for his paintings and sketches

and he started thinking there was something you hadn’t told him about you

because you seemed to change personalities and deflect compliments ALL THE TIME

he figured out the extent of your trauma after he said

“you are loved, and you are wanted.”

and you burst into tears 

he panicked at first, worried that he upset you, but he was happy to know you cried because you could finally believe someone when they said it

maybe it’s because he doesn’t often throw those statements out there

he makes more arty pieces inspired by you and how you feel about certain things

like your different ‘personalities’ that he sees, just differences in vibe and slight changes in body language when you want to come off as a certain way

he’s very happy that you believe him though, because he realises how hard it is for you to depend on anyone else

and how little trust you have in others that they won’t use you or abandon you

has drawn you like a porcelain doll before with cracks in the body because it’s still beautiful even if you’re ‘broken’

and writes you little notes or poems daily