#also thinking about adam trying to calm max down

[maxwelljacobfriedman]

[kip-loric]

I don't know if my previous ask pulled through, but I'm wondering if you have any favorite Human Garde character outside of the Fugitive Six?

It did, but I was debating on waiting on answering until I read Sam and Six's novellas because from what I've heard I think I'll really like Nemo and Max.

But right now I'm really interested in Einar. I don't know if I *like* him, but he's definitely trying to make a positive difference for the rest of the garde. His and Five’s relationship kinda gets me because they both get something out of it (Five gets Einar's legacy to calm him down, and Einar gets Five’s power), but sometimes it feels like Einar is kinda using/manipulating Five a little.

I REALLY like Vontessa (or however you spell her name) and the idea of some Mogadorian's also getting legacies. I definitely think Adam and Rex got some, but they're never mentioned? No one even really wonders about it except for Vontessa?? We don't know if John goes to check on Adam ever again after the end of the first series??I'm kinda mad about that part...sorry for mini mog rant...

[devil-doll13]

How my OCs would comfort you HCs

Inspired by @myers-meadow from our server <3 hope you feel better my beet

This Includes: Abigail, Max, Zach, Jude, Ciarán, Adam & Apollo

Abigail isn’t great at comfort (she can barely hold herself together let alone you) but her first instinct is to give you a bit of space, maybe discreetly watch you to see if there’s anything that can be sorted right away. Then, her next step is fixing you a drink she knows you like. Will perch awkwardly on a chair and just silently stare at u like a cat. She’s trying to tell you it’s ok to talk to her. Abigail can be gentle with you if you need physical comfort though it can come across a little like this tbh

Max is about to dash across the room and immediately scoop you up in a big bear hug like!!! Oh no what’s wrong!!! He’ll back off quick if this overwhelms you, he’s just anxious and wants to help you feel better. Up to do whatever you want. A ride on his motorcycle? He’s already revving her up. Wanna just sit and watch a movie/show? Max will go get the snacks and drinks right now. He’s the kinda guy to try and distract you from your problems for a bit. He doesn’t like it when his little friend is down.

Zach better shut his damn mouth bc he’s terrible for sticking his foot in it. He’s not as good when it comes to verbally comforting you. Will cook you something good to eat if that helps, thinking he’s a master chef and all. He jingles his car keys for you to tell you he’ll drive you around for a bit, maybe go sightseeing, maybe cause some chaos depending on how you feel. Might end up getting you drunk and/or laid because that’s always what he does when he’s in a mood.

Jude panics a lil especially if she walks in on you crying and she feels really bad if she embarrasses you like that. Gets you smth sweet to eat and/or drink like honeyed tea hoping the sugar will perk you up a bit. One of the few people here who can talk it through with you well enough. Will rant together with you if you need a sense of unity even if she has no idea what you’re talking about. If it’s anything like injustice or you being mistreated though, her anger becomes genuine and she might try to fix the situation herself, maybe enlisting Zach.

Ciarán unfortunately can’t use words to comfort you so he settles for actions instead, being tender and gentle with you. He’ll take you out for a ride if that helps get your head cleared up a bit - Gormlaith also senses your mood and fusses over you - the wind in your face may wash away all concerns if you find it soothing. He also likes to care for your hair, brushing it and braiding it if he is able. It’s a rather intimate act for Fae, so Ciarán hopes you can feel comforted by it.

Adam will listen to your worries without judgement, and it’s at these times you appreciate his patience. He’s so easygoing that being in his presence might calm you down from any heightened emotions you were feeling before. Or maybe it’s the pheromones he’ll conjure up your favourite flowers if that helps. It’s nice to be in a natural environment, with the fresh air in you lungs. If you want, I think he’d be happy to lend you something to get stoned/high with as well. That depends on you though.

Bonus: Apollo will make soothing booping noises and play you your favourite music on his speakers. Sorry he’s a computer AI he can’t do much.

[omegawhiskers]

Dynamite 22/11/23

 The Continental Classic begins!

It’s time for the Continental Classic! AEW have done a pretty bad job at explaining this tournament. Even during the opening, Excalibur is breaking down the rules, but I felt like a student who just walked halfway into class, and the teacher is trying to recap the lesson.

Two things I didn’t think I would see on AEW tonight. Woooo Energy and Jade Cargill. Yep, she was on Dynamite. If you looked at the barricade, she was on the advertisement for the Fight Forever Video Game. The forbidden door has been KNOCKED DOWN!

Swerve Strickland faced Jay Lethal in a pretty good opening match to kick off this tournament. Swerve is over massively with the crowd, and I wouldn’t be surprised if goes turns babyface sooner rather than later. I also love Swerves move, House Call. What a beautiful kick.

MJF and Adam Cole come to the ring. MJF has a cane, which is a nice touch as I would hate to see him skipping around after what he went through. Cole delivers some bad news. His ankle won’t be a 100% for a long while. The Man in the Devil Mask appears on screen and has a distorted voice as they laugh. Samoa Joe comes out to cash in on MJF’s deal. I didn’t know what MJF’s response was to Joe was as it was muted, but he’s reply to Joe was “Blow me.” Joe is about to drop MJF, but Cole calms Joe down and convinces Max to be a man of his word. MJF finally offers a shot for his title, tonight! I don’t know why Max would instantly jump to this, but Joe tells Max that he wants him at 100% at World’s End. Joe also tells Max that he is now his property, and no one will be touching him until the PPV. Will Joe be a victim to the Man in the Devil Mask?

Next up was Hook/Orange Cassidy/Katsuyori Shibata vs. 2.0 and Jake Hager in a match that served to get Danhausen back on TV. Cassidy and friends went over. In a post-match segment, Daddy Magic is frustrated with the result, while Anna Jay feels the focus is not on her. Angelo Parker is doing his thing with Ruby Soho, and Hager is concerned that Danhausen had his purple hat.

In an excellent segment, Christian Cage chastises Luchasaurus for taking the pin at Full Gear. Cage demands that Luchasaurus gets on his knee so he can rename him, Killswitch. There is resistance from the big man, but eventually he does what Cage asks of him. Nick Wayne gets dubbed ‘’The Prodigy’’ Nick Wayne. Wayne’s Mother comes to persuade her son to walk away from Christian’s side. Killswitch has had enough of Christian and gets between him and Wayne’s mom but gets shoved into her which knocks her down. Wayne grabs two chairs for the Conchairto, while Christian orders Killswitch to strike her while she's down. There is much hesitation from Killswtich until Adam Copeland comes down to clear the ring. Wayne ends up on the receiving end of the Conchairto. Killswitch will have a match on Collision, and I’m glad they set this up on Dynamite as I like seeing stories continuing across both shows. I’ll be good to get Luchasaurus back as a face, but I do hope they add some character growth through this storyline.

Jay White picked up the win over Rush by delivering a low blow. That 3 points for White and 3 points for Swerve thus far.  

In an Oscar-like segment, Toni Storm was awarded her AEW Women’s Championship. This was great, and I feel like Storm's character is improving every week. I felt it was a bit rocky a first, but these kinds of segments here work well. The frustrating part tough were the fans chanting ‘’What’’. If you don’t know, doing this chant is disrespectful. All you’re doing to attempting to throw off someone’s game. On Freddie Prince Jr’s podcast he mentioned he’d seen this chant ruin careers from working as a writer for WWE. So just stop.

Anna Jay, Skye Blue, and Ruby Soho worked an entertaining match. The shenanigans revolved around Parker and Soho flirting. This would cost Soho the match as Blue pinned Jay for the victory. It was entertaining to watch Daddy Match and Paige argue with each other as they were trying to keep their team mates apart. I would like this to continue if it remains entertaining like tonight.

Our final and best match was Jon Moxley vs. Mark Briscoe. I really like how Briscoe moves in the ring. His outside neckbreaker looked sick. Moxley got the win. I do hope we see Briscoe is some sort of title match in the near future.

This was a really good show. The wrestling was strong. I was a bit disappointed that we didn't get Adam Page, Julia Hart, Young Bucks or Kenny Omega, but we always have Collision, and it's not like there was any lack of stories on this episode.

[the-firebird69]

Today was incredible as the idiots not there fooling people so I could go look at stuff and steal stuff and they're saying that they're going they're gone and getting killed and they're saying it to our son and laughing and he says back stand and Biden started it and their fleet was about 120th in size of the empire The empire picked it up because you're in their face blaming them because it looks like empire ships and it is and it worked and they're devastating you for real so I don't know why you say it's fake you're a bunch of losers and con man conning yourself. So they turned around and said screw you you don't need to know and they're saying that I don't need to know I don't really care to know but you're the ones we need to know and your garbage cuz you have no idea what you're saying. Turned around again and said we know all about it and I said I don't think you know about it idiot. You told me to shut up and put him in a body bag I kept yelling so they hit him and they pull them out of there with an ambulance while you were there and they went around the back no they went right by and stuck him in the ambulance. It was stan and he's saying I'll get you to our son. He's riding the ambulance saying screw you to everyone all sudden you said that I'm screwed I'm done these people suck so damn bad and Mac is there saying you got to calm down you're in the middle of all of them telling them to go to hell the place was fully loaded with these s*** heads. You drew us into it to stop these idiots and he's helping any kind of ratted on himself and he's stuck in there. He's laughing it's easy riding out no but he wrote out a few minutes later and they told him said good at chop them up myself and they said what are you saying that for since he keeps riding on me and riding on me and then it said well you know that's your actual attitude we can take your s*** cuz I don't want to f****** put up with it from you either you sound like a retard they checked in his frontal lobes are retard so you're letting the guy get in charge. He leans way back and says I can't help what I'm saying also they said this we're inundated so they called people in it's actually what it was I said they're everywhere I couldn't see any max out there at all if Stan walked by I wouldn't know him from Adam cuz they're screwing around with everybody so all of a sudden he goes like this you can't tell who anyone is he's idiots have trouble with it anyways and you sincerely can't see yeah that I'm doing it too stupid they're saying you're next and stuff. You shouldn't be out there all alone and when you're doing that you shouldn't you should have a big crew here he goes oh yeah yeah I think it's a key without it you can't open those big ones and he started laughing and said there's some kind of thing like you can't it might sit down inside it and it might not even be lopsided on purpose it was okay cuz like at the edge you might want to break it up a little and Max said that makes actual sense and we say it makes sense. You start laughing and say this one it's out and it has to do those diamonds yeah everyone's making fun of me even the non retarded people. So I pulled you out I guess Stan laughs a little was here for the gold you had it out he leaves and says everyone's had everything and he's trying to sit there and these people had him all the time and me pretty soon to be out cuz what happened happened Stan lead into it was attacking bases and it pulled the ball out and they started attacking Max and Max were forced to do it now

Thor Freya

[irisposts]

hidden in plain sight 18+

series masterlist | part one | bonus chapter

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem! reader

Summary: You and Eddie continue your affair behind your boyfriend's back. Hoping that you don't get caught.

Warnings: Smut, cheating, slight-bullying, rough-sex, choking, established relationship, actual plot lol

A/N: this is a lil long ngl so please leave COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. Also i didn’t edit this lol

It’s night time, a little over nine. Your parents went over to the wheelers, you’d go but you were expecting Eddie.

Besides, you’re father and Ted would talk for hours. And you’d rather not listen to them or play a campaign with Mike. So you opt to lay on your bed, earphones over your ears. You hum to a song Max had recently put you on to. Your pencil thrums along your homework.

You bob you’re head, unknowing to the man crawling through your window.

His fingertips scratch the top of your head and you jump. “What the hell—” Your back slams into the wall beside you. Your eyes quickly snapping to Eddie’s face. “Asshole!” You yell and playfully slap at his chest.

Then you lay a hand on your own to calm you’re beating heart.

Eddie laughs and lays atop of your sheets. “Missed me?” He places his arms behind his head.

You roll your eyes and scoot to give his long legs some room. “You’re late.” You narrow your eyes. “And you really gotta learn to knock.” You screw your eyes shut. “I nearly got a heart attack.”

Eddie snickers and grabs you’re homework. “What’s this?” He playfully reads it upside down. His eyes over look the paperwork. “I don’t think i can read?” He twists it sideways, making a face.

You giggle and the snatch the paper from him and toss it to the floor. You crawl over to him, knees on either side of his frame.

Eddie throws a playful look to you. “Why, hello there.”

“Hi.” You giggle.

Eddie curls a strand of hair behind your ear. “Parents home?”

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p’ and wiggle your brows. “We’re all alone.”

Eddie smiles. “Music to my ears!” He kisses into the crook of your neck. His hair tickling at your skin.

“Eddie!” You laugh and sling an arm around his neck.

He nuzzles into your touch. He notes how sweet you smell. Figures you showered after practice today, because you smell divine. “…All day I couldn’t stop thinking you.” He kisses into your hair. “You drive me insane sweetheart.”

Your heart thumps at his words. You pull back and cup his face between your hands. “Munson, are you falling for me?”

His eyes slightly grow bigger. “N-No?” His cheeks flush and you laugh again.

You can’t help but tease him. “Good.” You roll off his hips and onto the other side of the bed. A sudden shock of pain shoots up your leg. You groan at the soreness in your core, thighs and shins. Cheer practice was a monster to tackle and so was your coach. She was adamant on you being both a tumbler and flyer. You had more experience in gymnastics then some of the other girls.

And coach, expected you to do just about anything because of that said experience. Sometimes you wonder if you would’ve been cheer captain if Chrissy hadn’t. Sometimes you thought you deserved it more, then you’d feel bad and beat yourself up about it.

Eddie notices and brings a hand to your thigh. His fingers going a little past your bed shorts. Your shorts are a soft pink with little strawberry’s for decoration and color.

“You okay?” He massages the skin softly. “Sore?”

You sigh into his touch. “Yeah.” His hands are warm as they work at your muscles.

Eddie continues his massage until an idea pops in his head. Through his bangs, his curious eyes look to you. A hint of mischief in his gaze, “Wanna try something?”

Your insides flip when you see his lips curl up.

“Does that feel good?” Eddie breaks away, his eyes on you.

You eyes are screwed shut, annoyed that he stopped. You sigh, “Mmhm.” You exasperate.

You’d be lying if you said Eddie didn’t know how to work his tongue. He was phenomenal. He’s been between your legs for only a couple minutes now. Yet he eats you like your savory, and the most delectable meal on planet earth. You forgot all about your soreness from doing splits, and stunts. Your only regret being that you wish you had let him do this sooner.

Eddie purses his lips. “Look,” He starts. “If it’s not feeling good I can stop. Seriously, it won’t hurt my feelings or anything—Well, actually. Maybe a little because this one girl told me I was like the gladiator of head. But it’s cool, I mean I’m cool—”

“Eddie!” You slap your hands onto the comforter. Your arms hold you as you sit up. Your eyes look down to his. You swallow and a small laugh comes from your throat. “It feels,” you smile at him. “It feels amazing, you idiot.”

He slowly breaks into a big grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile again and fall back onto your bed. Your arm splays over your face. Cheeks burning in embarrassment.

He watches you as he brings his lips back down to your cunt. Flicking his tongue up, then down. Licking you so good. He brings his fingers up to your mound, spreading you apart. You gasp when he licks a stripe up your slit.

“How good?” He blows cool air onto you and your fingers clutch at your sheets. You fling your head back when he sucks you into his mouth.

Eddie pulls away to let his fingers slip through your slit, “Come on sweetheart,” Tracing your entrance. Slowing opening you up wide. “Speak up.”

“Ha.” You tremble as his finger slowly pump into you. Your chest and stomach rises and falls two quickly. Finding it hard to breathe. “Eddie, ah.” Your legs unknowningly start to close.

Eddie chuckles as he breaks them apart. “Baby, tell me.”

You practically melt as he adds another finger and his lips, and his tounge. All working in unison to bring you this delectable pleasure. “Hah—its really good.” Your hand attaches itself to his roots. Tugging, pulling him closer to you. “Eddie, I think—”

He laps at your juices. His fingers curl and twist. His speed increasing. Every time he thrusts into you, his thumb massages at your clit. “—Mhm!” Your back arches as he completely and utterly devours you. Your moans fill the four walls around you.

He comes up briefly for air. “You taste fucking amazing.” He groans when he see’s how unbelievably fucked you looked. Glassy eyes, the way your tits are hardly covered by your shirt. His words send you over the edge, then he’s back down to kissing your cunt.

You pant when feeling that familiar twist and roll in your stomach. “Eddie uh,” You try to pulls his head up. You grip at your sheets so tightly, you think your fingers might break. Your moans become sporadic, loud, pleading.

“Eddie!” You try to pull yourself up and away but his arm is looped around your thigh. a tight grip in place.

You can only lay their, eyes screwed shut as he savours your taste on his tounge. “Fuck!” You feel the sudden presure in your stomach rolls off in waves as you come down from your high. Your legs trembles around him as he pulls his fingers out of you. He then comes up, lips wet with your slick.

“Holy shit.” You try to catch you’re breath.

Eddie smiles at you, pleased. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” His brows knit together.

“Mm—mm” You shake you’re head. “I’m usually the one on my knees.” You chuckle at the thought and you catch Eddie’s eye narrow, a glimmer of jealously. How could Patrick not take the time to pleasure you is beyond him. He’s just thankful that he had been your first after all this time of him begging.

You sit up fully this time and reach for his buckle. He helps you in shaking off his pants. Discarding it with his jacket. Leaving him only in a black t-shirt.

His length stares back at you. Your mouth waters.

You reach for him again, wrapping a palm around his cock. He hisses as you pump him slowly, from base to tip. You never bring him to your lips. Teasing, you’re eyes look up to him. You bat them innocently.

“Fuck off,” He chuckles at this. His fingers play with your hair. “You know ha—”

You lightly lick the tip. “Hm?”

He shudders as you pump him again with your hands. “I was watching you earlier—” He flushes at this word choice. “I mean—at practice. I saw you practicing.”

You smile and bring him into your mouth. Cheeks hallow as you suck.

“Shit.” Eddie’s head falls back. Bottom lip between his teeth.

You let him go with a pop. “Did you like what you see?”

You suck on him again. “God yes.” He exhales, loving how warm you were around him. You hum as you begin to bob your head on his cock. Loving the unique taste of eddie and the slight saltiness on your tounge.

When you go to look up, you see his adam’s apple bob up and down as he tries to not fuck into your throat.

“You’re coach,” Eddie slings his head back down. His eyes on you. “Kept yelling at you for you’re limp.” You heart nearly doubles over at that sly smirk on his lips.

It was true, you’d been limping today. You got pain killers from Chrissy, but perhaps using your muscles during practice wasn’t the best idea. You could hardly do the routine properly without doubling over every now and then. That’s the consequence of fucking Eddie “the freak” Munson. He would fuck you into oblivion, and that he did.

“Should we do it again?” His hand finds it’s way to your head. Moving you to a rhythm down his cock. Tears prick you eyes as you struggle to breathe and swallow him down. “There we go…” He moans so loud, you feel wetness between your thighs.

You gag and choke down on him. Manically, Eddie enjoyed this seeing you struggle to take him. And so did you as you watch him unwither under your touch. He holds you, a hand at the back of your head the other rubbing down your cheek and throat. He fucks into you. His face is focused as he slides in and out of your lips. You try to breathe but the task is difficult when your face is getting fucked into. Eddie growls at the sound of you choking. “Good girl—fuck!” He rolls his head back.

It reminds you of when he does it at corroded coffin shows. When he’d hit the last note on his guitar. Boot on the stereo as he lets his hair fall down his back.

Your face is wet with tears and you have no choice but to pull off as hot white cum shoots down your throat. You swallow but in turn, cough like you had smoken a pack of newports. You back away from him, trying to catch your breath.

Eddie looks with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m—” You cough and then laugh. “Just fine.”

You giggle and swipe at your eyes.

Eddie looks to you with a smirk and lays back onto your bed. His hair falling onto your pillows. You make your way atop of him again. Thighs on either side. You shake as you bottom half’s press agaisnt one another.

“Hi.”

Eddie blushes at this. “Hi.”

You bend over to kiss his cheek. Then the tip of his nose, his eye. Any flesh you kiss. He chuckles beneath you. Loving the way you eyelashes lightly tickle his face.

“Y/n!”

You pull away with a smile. He twitches beneath you and you remember you’re both half naked. You look to him. Warm cheeks as you run a hand down his chest. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” His fingers ghost your hips. Bottom lip between his teeth, desperately trying not to roll his hips into you.

You aren’t sure as to why you feel shy about it now. But you’re mouth is dry as you speak, “I want to ride.” You groan into your hand, peeking through through fingers. “You. I want to ride you, Eddie…”

His eyes look to you. Big, doe, and sweet. He then blushes into a full blown grin. “You sure?” His eyebrow lifted.

You giggle at the memory of your first time riding him. You were sloppy, uncordinated. Your thighs burned and you gave up rather easily. You were embarassed to say the least. But Eddie, made you feel comfortable, especially, when he took the lead. Pressing his hips into you, your head thrown back in pleasure. You gulp. “I’m sure.”

Eddie grins wider, he’s more than excited. “We’ll go ahead then.”

You giggle at his ethusiam and reach down to grab him. He hisses as your cool fingers wrap around him. You tremble with anticipation as you bring him to your cunt. The tip grazing your entrance. You sigh as you sink down onto him. “ha..ha..”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. The pads of his fingers grace your skin. Gentle, trying desperately not to grip tight and fuck into you. “Jesus H. christ.” He curses beneath his breath when your bodies fully connect.

You sit for a moment. Breath harsh at this unfamiliar angle. You feel more full then usual. You scrunch your nose as you move up, then sink back down. Making eddie dig the back of his skull into your pillow. “Fuck, you’re so god damn warm.”

You flush and try to focus on rolling your hips. Your round them, and Eddie’s hand twitch to grab at your waist and hips. Squeezing you tight. “Shit.” You lean back when finding that spot. You fuck him like this, coming up and down on his cock like it’s your damn job. The slap of skin to skin is music to your ears. Your moans are soft and breathless.

Eddie’s more loud than usual. Especially when you come down to relax and roll your hips onto his. Makes him go crazy, craving more of you. “Yes, that’s it.” He loves the way you get into it. Your hands on his thighs, on his chest. Sweaty, chanting his name like a mantra. “Holy—you’re so fucking hot.”

He looks to you with concerned eyes as you attempt to sink down smoothly, but you come down a little harsh. “You got it?” Your thighs start to burn.

“Mmhm.” You gasp as you roll your hips again.

Eddie places his hands on the familiar curve of your waist and thigh. His hold is firm. “Here.” He guides you up and then down. It’s slow, but your legs don’t hurt as much with his guidance. But horny, you loose patience quickly. Finding the drive to drill yourself onto his cock.

The new burst of energy has Eddie smiling and breathless. “You’re such a fucking slut.” He reaches up to cup your chest. He sqeuezes you between his hand.

You moan at the harshness and how deep he goes into you. You pray, you could perform for the next practice. But you know best, Eddie's dick could leave you hospitalized. It was simply that good. You smile at the funny thought.

"What?" Eddie chuckles beneath you. The hair close to his face, straighter then the rest of his wavy locks.

"Nothing." You grin, your voice shaken as you come back down.

He leans himself up. Latching his lips and teeth into your neck. He suckles at the soft flesh. You throw your head back in pleasure. Moaning at how intense he was on marking you.

"Eddie." You gasp as your core pulses around him. Your hand is at his nape. "No marks.”

The last thing you needed was your mother or father wandering how on earth a hickey ended up on your neck.

He pulls away, skin still between his teeth. He lets you go, eyes coming back to your face. "You're so pretty." His thumb tilts your chin your chin. He leans in and your already meeting him halfway. The kiss is messy, passionate. You mewl at each break, loving the way his tongue moves with your own. This man was a glorious kisser in every which way. “My girl.” He breaks away, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You blink at this, a heat coming to your cheek. "Shut up." You lift yourself and come back down on him. You use all your strength, sliding up and down his dick with so much ease. It's passionate, aggressive. You feel yourself go else where, your thighs tremble. Eddie helps ypu, despite his nearing orgasm. He weakly croaks as you come down your high.

Your mouth is agape to the ceiling. You’re body adjusts to the second waves rolling off your body. You gasp as you weakly roll over. Suddenly feeling empty.

"Fuck, ha." Eddie melts into your pillow. Tired.

You grin a lazy smile. The soreness between your legs already setting in.

He rolls over to his side. Looking at you, he smiles. A tired smile albeit. You lay for a moment until you reach for your blanket at the bottom of your bed. Laying it flat over your bottom half’s. You two stay silent for a long while. Trying to get your breathing back to what it was.

“Eddie?” You don’t look over.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.” Your adjust yourself on the pillow. “About yesterday. Jason was a dick and so was Patrick for doing that…”

Eddie blinks at this. “Oh.”

You sigh. “Yeah…”

Eddie swallows. “It was uh…” He shrugs and looks over to you. “Y’know nothing the freak can’t handle.”

It’s your time to look at him. At that stupid boyish grin on his face. “I don’t know how you do it.”

His eyes are curious when you say this. “Do what?”

You don’t know where to begin. “How you’re like so unapologetically yourself? I don’t know…I feel like I’ve been living this double life for the last few months.” You purse your lips. “ I thought maybe if I tried hard enough, like really hard. That the others would like me and I’d stop getting bullied? And I’d have this high school fairytale of being a cheerleader and be with my jock in ‘shinning armor’. I’d be loved and truly loved for me. But I’m not like these other kids. I’m just—I don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Eddie stares at you, his eyes not one leaving your face. A small smile slowly crawls on his lips. “It’s because your a freak.”

You laugh, genuinely. “Yeah. I guess you can’t take that out a person, huh?” You think back to how your life was a few months back. You were social albeit not as social as you are now, innocent to most, a little nerdy. You weren’t an official member of the hellfire club, but you’d occasionally stop by to watch or play a campaign.

Which the others hated, when you played. Eddie would be more easy on you, help you along the way. Something Dustin, Mike and Lucas would catch on too. Calling you a cheater. You swallow at the word in your throat. You are a cheater.

You let out a breath. “And I’m sorry that I blew you off.” You play with your fingers. “I should’ve never done that, I feel like such an ass. We were really close and I didn’t mean to push you away like that.” You look to Eddie. “I’d never push you away intentionally.”

His face is serious as his eyes search your face. “…I know.”

You sigh in relief, Eddie turns his head to the ceiling. Putting an arm behind his head. “Y/n, sounds like you need a smoke.”

You chuckle at this. “I’m trying to pour my heart out to you and you tell me I need a smoke?”

Eddie smiles over to you. With that same stupid smile that has your heart thumping a mile per minute. “But I accept your apology, miss y/l/n” He offers u a hand.

You shake it.

You feel a lot better getting that off your chest. You lay back onto the pillow and contemplate on your next question.

You rest two hands on your chest. “Eddie, if things we’re different,” You chew on your lip. “You think we’d be together?”

When the words roll off your tounge you immediately regret them. Eddie looks over to you, his eyes open. Big and thoughtful. I should abort. You think to yourself.

Yet, his next words surprise you.

“I like to think so.”

He drops his gaze. Now he feels like he’s about to pour his heart out. But he decides agaisnt it, for his own sake.

You stare up to the ceiling. “I like to think so too.” You look over to him. “If only…”

Eddie sighs and looks to the ceiling with you. “If only…”

You guys stay like that for a moment. Just breathing, soaking each other’s prescence. You tilt your head over when you hear a noise. Tap!

“Hm?”

Eddie drops his gaze to you. “What?”

“Did you say something?”

He quirks a brow. “No…”

You squint your eyes over to him. But point them back to the popcorn on your ceiling. You hear the noise again. tap! “Dude.”

“That wasn’t me!” Eddie laughs a little at this.

You throw him a look and scoot off your bed to try the find source. Eddie sits up watching you. Another Tap. You squint as you walk over to your window. It happens again and you see tiny pebbles hit at your window. With quick strides you walk over.

Your heart nearly falls out when you see Patrick standing down below.

“Shit!” You fall to floor, when his eyes meet yours.

“What? What!” Eddie scrambles to get up but you nearly screech at him.

“—Its patrick!” You feel like your about to vomit. You turn on your heels and search for your pants. Hands shaking.

Eddie follows suit, bending over to the floor so Patrick can’t see. “Why is he here!” His words pitched and fast.

You screw your eyes shut as you pull your pants on. “I don’t know!” Your heart pounds agaisnt your chest, you stand and rush back over to your window. You open it with haste.

“Patrick?” Your try to control your breathing.

Eddie stops on the floor. Trying not to make noise.

“W-What are you doing here?” You speech, it’s uncertain and weary. You hope he doesn’t catch on.

It’s hard to make out his face from up high. But you sense something is off. Patrick scratches at his nape. “Is everything alright?” He notices your frizzy hair. “You seem on edge.”

“Yeah!” You shout. “I’m fine.” Your voice cracks and you hope your boyfriend doesn’t hear the lie oozing off your tounge.

Patrick takes a step forward. “Could I come in?”

“Ugh.” You swallow as you hear Eddie trying to pull up his pants again. Y-Yeah, just—”

“Okay.” Patrick motions to the white panels decorating the side of your home. He and Eddie use those to climb up to your room.

“—No!” You shriek. Patrick jumps back at your yelp. You can see his face now. He looks to you with confusion. You exhale, “I’ll open the front door. My parents aren’t home.”

Patrick narrows his eyes with a squint. “Okay?”

You don’t even wait for him to turn around. Your hands close the latch on your window and your hands are on Eddie. “Out!”

Eddie scrambles with his jacket and shoes in hand. You push him into your hallway and into the guest bathroom. “You’re letting him in!” Eddie spits out with distaste.

“He’s my boyfriend what am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him your busy, or your grandma died or something, I don’t know!”

You slap your hand across your face. Groaning. “Just stay here until he leaves, okay?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but nods. “Okay.” He sits on your toilet seat.

As you turn you hear Eddie clear his throat. “One more thing.” His fingers press into your wrist, turning you back to him. For a second, you wonder if he can feel your heart beat pulse.

Then the next, his hand cups at your jaw. Thumb softly circling your skin as he places a chaste kiss to your lips. You hum with pleasure at his familiar taste . When you break apart, the tip of his nose brushes against your own. He holds you there, you’re breath mixing. “…Just wanted to leave you a little reminder.”

You can’t hide your smile as you pull away. “Freak.” You turn again and swing the door shut. Your feet slam down each step as you make your way to the front door.

You take a deep breath, quickly checking your pajamas are decent. Then twist the lock.

As you open it and see Patrick’s face. Your soul feels like it’s been crushed. The bruise on his eye is a deep purple.

He looks to you with a soft smile. “Can we talk?”

Patrick sits on your bed. It makes your stomach churn as he sits where Eddie had just laid mere seconds ago. You gulp at the messy sheet, but Patrick pays no mind. Rather, he pulls at the rip on his jeans. Head low.

You stand around him. Trying to find the words.

“What happened to your eye?” Your words shake.

Patrick looks to you. “I fell.”

You shake you’re head. In your room lighting, you see how purple it really it is. Your stomach sinks. It didn’t look like a fall. “Patrick..” You bite at your nail. “—Did someone do this?”

“No—”

You cross your arms. “—Was it Jason?”

“What? No.” Patrick shakes his head and sighs. “Jason would never do this.” He points to his eye. You find that hard to believe, especially, when Jason had pushed you agaisnt the lockers.

“Are you sure?”

Patrick’s expression on his face darkens. “Jason isn’t like that, y/n. Please stop saying that.” You bite your lips but obey.

“Then who, is this why your weren’t at school today. Patrick—”

Patrick sighs. “It was no one!” He lets out a long breath. “It was no one babe, it was an accident—this isn’t even what I came to you about.” You furrow your brows at this. “C’mere.” He taps on the side of him.

You comply and sit.

“I wanted to apologize.”

When he says this you can’t help but stay silent.

Patrick takes your hand, fingers intertwining. You note how imperfectly you fit in his hand. “I know i haven’t been the best boyfriend…”

“Patrick…”

“No, seriously. I haven’t. I’ve been so caught up with basketball and life. I just want you to know, that i’m sorry. I am so very sorry. Things haven’t been the best at home…but i’m trying. And I should be trying harder for you. And seeing you with that freak last night, really put everything in perspective.”

You scrunch your nose at this. “…You mean Eddie?”

“Yeah.” Patrick shows disinterest by rolling his eyes.

“What you and Jason did was messed up…”

Patrick chuckles back on it. “…I mean it was a little funny.”

You exhale and give him a look. You shake your head. “No, seriously. The bullying isn’t funny. He’s actually a really nice guy…” Your voice falters at the end.

Patrick notices your seriousness. “How do you even know this guy?”

You shrug with false apprehension. “His uncle knows my dad. Family friends. And he just took me home, he looks after me sometimes” You half-life. Your dad did know Mr.Munson. But that wasn’t how either of you met, it was through Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. They invited you to a campaign and that’s where you met him. The freak.

But he was much more than that. You could only wish the rest of Hawkins high could see that.

Patrick looks to you with relief. “Oh, thank god.” He mutters beneath his breath, “I thought maybe…” He shakes his head. “I thought he was trying to get at you…”

“At me?” You scoff in disbelief. “Eddie? No, never.” You laugh. Your acting is so convincing you shock yourself. “Just a friend—we’re friends.”

Patrick smiles at you. “Good.” He lays a hand atop yours. “Just be careful around him, okay? I’ve heard things. Guys a freak.”

You nod. “I will.” You gulp at another lie.

Patrick looks to you, really looking at you. He tucks a hair behind your ear. Your mind plays back Eddie doing the same. “Y/n….I love you.”

You blink at this.

Stunned, a part of you had been waiting for those words to meet your ears. But another part of you feels empty. Those words are just placeholders. Patrick looks at you with his soft eyes, plush lips. Your gaze travels to his bruised his eye, you reach out to touch. Letting the pad of your thumb run along the sides of his wound. You bring your hand down his cheek. He sighs, feeling safe in your grasp. “Patrick, I love you too.”

When you say the words, you don’t think of regretting them. Because a part of you did love him or least wanted to learn to love him. Properly.

Patrick smiles and leans into your touch, bringing his lips to yours. It’s sweet, feverish. Much like the kisses he’d give you when you had first started dating. You hum with contempt, pulling away more conflicted then ever.

It’s when the pound of footsteps going down your staircase has your world crashing back down. The reality of your words and decisions coming to fruition.

Patrick leans back. “I thought you said no was home?”

“Shit.” You stand and rush over to the door. “Stay here!” You say to Patrick and swing the door open and practically sprint down the steps.

You curse to yourself the entire way down. You round the corner to your kitchen and see Munson swinging the back door open.

“Hey!” You grab his arm. “The hell, Munson?” Your voice is sharp. “Patrick, could hear you.”

He looks to you with disbelief and pulls himself away. As if you had scorched his skin. He digs into his pocket for a pack of camels. As he digs, he feet walk to the opposite direction. You grab his leather sleeve again.

“Where are you going!” You breathe. Trying to whisper so Patrick can’t hear.

He places a cigarette between his lips and searches into his pocket for a light. His eyes don’t leave yours. With haste he lights the bottom, taking a swift drag. “Oh I don’t know. Going home?”

He taps the end, letting light fall to the concrete.

You crawl around his new attitude. “Are you okay?”

“dandy.” Eddie blows smoke to his side.

Your purse your lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was coming.” You shake your head. “Seriously, had I known. I would never let this.” You wave between you to. “happen.”

Eddie blinks rapidly when you say this. Another peice of himself crumbles at your choice of words. He rocks on his heel, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He nods to himself, the reality of this relationship hitting him like a tom of brick.

“It’s cool.” Eddie scratches at his head. He stares off to the distance. Calming down, “It’s cool.”

You hug the door looking back to make sure patrick hadn’t followed. “Eddie.”

He doesn’t respond.

You curse to yourself, looking back. “Eddie, hey. I’ll see you around, alright?” You speak carefully and slow.

Eddie looks to you, he’s afraid if he speaks he might even cry. Which is pathetic he thinks to himself. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” You nod, slowly pull away and close the door. You’re eyes are glued to the floor as you swing the door shut. Unable to see Eddie as he reaches out to say something else. But nothing comes from his throat anyway. When you slam the door, he curses to himself.

As you turn on your heels your eyes catch to Patrick near the end of the steps. “Patrick?” He’s now leant over on your staircase. “I thought I told you to wait..”

He shrugs. “Who was that?”

You scratch at your skin. “My cousin. I forgot she was sleeping, she’s visiting from… Idaho?”

Patrick makes a face. “The one who got chicken pox last time?”

You wave you’re hand. “No, the other one.”

He chuckles at this, and you sigh with relief.

A smile grows on your face as you walk over and take his hand. But as you follow him back up the stairs, you can’t help but look back to the door. Wondering just what was going on with Eddie “the freak” Munson, and why you were irrevocably fascinated by him.

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED BITCHES AND DID ALL THIS FOR NO COMMENTS AND HARDLY ANY REBLOGS 😎 LOVE BEING A WRITER, UNTIL NEXT TIME LOVELYs

[harrygroves]

part four

part three

of course i did a part four of the willing victim Steve/ lifeguard Billy fic.

*

Max is getting ice cream with Lucas the next time she runs into Steve. They get to the front of the line, order, and Steve hands their respective cones to them with a smile.

“Oh, you got your name tag back.” She mentions casually, licking at her strawberry ice cream.

Steve looks down at his chest, like he’s confirming it’s there. “What?” He asks when he looks back at her.

“Your name tag.” She repeats, louder and more aggressive like she’s annoyed.

“I got it...back?” He prompts with a small shake of his head. Steve didn’t say anything to any of the kids, and Billy didn’t really seem like the type of brother to bond over a tub of ice cream and hair rollers while talking about all the mean shit he did that particular day.

“Yeah, it was in a box under Billy’s bed.” She says with a small shrug, like it’s no big deal.

Says it so calm and flippant that Steve doesn’t really understand at first.

Then he processes what she said.

It was in a box.

That’s weird.

Steve is caught up in his thoughts, heart deciding on it’s own to double in speed at this little revelation because it feels innately personal. Max and Lucas have the audacity to turn away and leave.

“Robin! Take the register!” Steve yells as they move through the crowd.

“Jesus, Steve, I’m right here!” Robin snaps back at him, no more than two feet away. She doesn’t ask where he’s going, just slides over to the register before realizing he’s not replacing her at the ice cream stand, then shouts after him to get your ass back here!

He ignores her and springs around the corner of the counter, chasing Max and Lucas who’re already heading out the door.

“Hey!” He yells after them.

He yells again when he exits the shop. They glance back and stop in their tracks, but they both appear confused and slightly concerned.

“Max!” He shouts, stopping in front of her. “Wait, explain.”

“Ex...plain?” She says.

Steve’s breathing is haggard, but it’s not the short jog, it’s this feeling that’s shooting through his body, a lightbulb goes off in his head that this is important. “Yeah, you said it was in a box under Billy’s bed?”

“Yeah, with like, a bunch of other weird shit. He never cleans his room.” She says with a disgusted face, a roll of her eyes.

“What else was in the box?” He asks.

“Uh…” She trails off, eyes defocusing like she’s trying to remember.

“What else?!” He yells at her. He doesn’t mean to do it, it just happens because of the roaring in his ears and the heat on his face. Whatwhatwhat???

“Okay! Okay!” She yells back, eyebrows drawing together, but she’s not mad, it’s more like wide-eyed concern. “Uh...there was like, I don't know, random shit. A party invite -- ”

“What did it say?” He interrupted.

“God, I don't remember, but I think it was, like...a Halloween party? And...um, there was one of those drawings from Will’s house, your name tag...a sock…”

“What?” Steve blurts out incredulously.

“Yeah, it was like a gold and green sock.” She tells him.

It’s his sock. It has to be. It went missing from his gym locker -- he kept thinking it had fallen out and the janitor had thrown it away. As for the other stuff...it sounds like a curated collection of items to remind Billy of...

“Oh!” She says, startling him out of his thoughts. “And your yearbook picture!” She says with a snap of her fingers.

“What?” Steve asks hollowly, but he’s no longer fired up. No. Now, it’s a molten heat pooling in his cheeks, tugging in his stomach, making the back of his knees quiver.

Oh.

Oh.

Max starts babbling while Steve is having his mini panic attack. “Yeah, like, I really don't know what his problem is. I don't keep shit that reminds me of people I ha--”

She stops, mid-word and her eyes suddenly get really wide, mouth hanging open. Lucas’ mouth falls open in perfect mimicry.

“Holy shit.” She says. The ice cream is trailing down her hand. She doesn’t appear to notice.

“Max.” Steve starts.

“Oh my god.” She says thickly, a little aghast, volume rising. The ice cream is now dripping onto the floor.

“Max, look.” He tries again.

“I...Steve. I think--”

“Stop!” He puts both his hands up and she stops talking. “I know, I get it, okay? Look, I need you two to...keep this quiet, okay? Seriously, no telling the others. Just leave it alone, alright? I’ll give you free ice cream for the rest of the summer.”

They look at each other. Lucas tilts his head at her, she nods shortly in return and looks back to Steve after their silent discussion.

“A year.” Max negotiates.

Steve scoffs. “God, okay, a year. Just keep it zipped. Promise?”

They both nod and walk off, moving close together, heads bowed in deep conversation.

Holy fucking shit.

*

On Steve’s next day off, he goes to the pool. It’s blistering hot and the humidity hangs around through the afternoon, into the evening. The sky darkens a bit too quickly for this time of the year, thick gray clouds rolling in, the promise of a summer storm approaching.

He waits until the pool closes.

Pulls into the parking lot close to the end of the day, parks next to the Camaro and waits. Sweat drips slow down his back, gathers at his hairline. He’s in khaki shorts and a thin, white shirt but his body can’t keep cool.

He slides out of his car when the last round of children and teens trail out and he waits, barely breathing, ears perked, jaw tense as he listens to the shuffle of Billy moving chairs back in place, the plastic sounds of gathering up floating devices and shoving them into the shed.

He watches the tall lights around the perimeter of the pool turn off.

That’s when he makes his move.

Steve, limbs feeling sluggish and numb but his mind in overdrive, heart in his throat, pushes open the pool gate.

“We’re closed.” He hears Billy grumble before he sees him. He’s over by the employee entrance, facing away from Steve but he turns his body halfway, glancing over his shoulder to see who has interrupted his shutdown routine.

Steve freezes, unsure. Confused. Billy’s eyes lock him in place, and he can’t move. Steve feels like an animal suddenly caught in a trap, like one of those metal rabbit cages, the gate to the pool slamming shut behind him only amplifying the tension. A sound threatens to spill out of him, but it dies in his throat. The heat in the air has seeped into his lungs, filling them to burst.

“Harrington?” Billy chokes out with a lilt in his voice, one of surprise and anger at the same time. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

That seems to be Billy’s whole deal. He’s as equally happy as he is annoyed when Steve is around, and Steve’s been thinking about all those moments -- ones filled with jabs and shoves but also with glints of light in his eyes and suggestive tongue wagging; he leans in, takes up space, like he’s trying to make sure he’s the only thing Steve’s focused on.

And, well. Steve’s finally paying attention.

“Drowning.”

He’s positive that he said it aloud, but the thunder in his chest, the electric fizzle crackling in the air making the tips of his fingers feel fuzzy; it’s overstimulation, and he can’t be sure that he said it, only that he hears it come out of his mouth somewhere very far away.

Steve can’t even be sure if Billy heard him.

He walks forward and pitches himself into the deep end of the pool.

*

Steve hadn’t actually remembered to take a deep breath before doing this. He’d been too preoccupied with the way Billy was looking at him. Every thought in his head was solely focused on the curve of Billy’s back, the bulge of his calves, the angle of his long neck and the bob of his adam’s apple, the way his eyes bored into Steve when he realized who it was.

So now his dumbass is underwater and he doesn’t have any intention of coming up and it’s for two reasons: one, he wants Billy to jump in after him and two, he feels like an absolute moron for doing this and if he dies it’ll be a blessing. It’s a win-win.

He’s underwater for maybe a full fifteen seconds before getting a little worried that Billy isn’t coming to save him but then the water breaks next to him as Billy jumps in.

Steve watches as Billy swims down to him, staring at him through the water with a strange mix of bafflement and rage. Steve stares back, eyes stinging, letting bubbles of air fall out of his mouth and float between them. Billy grabs his arm roughly. The water is cold but the place where Billy holds him is warm, and he’s pulling Steve up to the surface.

They explode out of the water, Billy keeping his death grip on Steve’s arm.

“What the hell is your problem, Harrington?” He yells instantly, water splashing around them, rolling down his face.

Billy’s holding him close, their legs brush in the water below. Steve stares into his eyes, watches Billy’s face change between curious and irate, pensive and scared.

He hasn’t said anything -- he realizes this, and they both tread water while the low rumble of thunder builds around them.

Billy opens his mouth and starts to say Steve’s last name again but Steve pushes himself closer and slots his lips over Billy’s.

It’s unhinging.

They both taste of chlorine, Steve craning forward, the determined, wet weight of his mouth keeping him afloat as Billy’s hand relinquishes Steve’s arm. Steve doesn’t care though, solely preoccupied with the heated, damp feeling of Billy’s mouth balanced against his perfectly. Steve lets out a long, deep groan, the sound of it coming up from his chest, rumbling through him in a hum against Billy’s mouth.

Billy jerks his head back all of the sudden. Steve’s eyes slowly flick open, but Billy doesn’t explode the way Steve expects. He stares at Steve’s mouth, eyes heavy and lidded, mouth open. They continue to keep themselves afloat, bodies cutting through the water as they bob up and down.

The thunder grows louder.

Steve takes a deep breath and plunges himself below the water’s surface.

He stares at Billy’s torso, the swayed movement of his swim trunks for a moment before Billy lowers himself to match Steve head-on. For the first time ever, Billy doesn’t look angry, doesn’t look like he’s playing a game where only he knows the rules and the outcome. He looks...soft. His features aren’t tense, no pent-up emotion boxing his shoulders.

In this hastily-created private world they look at one another without apprehension for perhaps the first time in either of their lives. A crack of muddled lighting flashes above them, barely registering through the clouds and the water.

Billy swims forward and pushes his mouth against Steve’s.

It’s hard to properly kiss underwater. The space between them diminishes quickly. They don't grapple for one another, both too nervous but there’s hesitant slide of hands over bare planes of skin, the timid tangle of legs, eyes pinched shut.

They pull back at the same time and swim upwards, gasp in lungfuls of air simultaneously.

Steve doesn’t -- he can’t let Billy get away for too long, knows the moment will be broken so he moves back in, crowds close and kisses him, hands coming up to touch Billy’s shoulders. The soft pads of his fingers sink into his flesh, skid over the edge of his collarbone. Steve feels the tentative press of Billy’s fingers along his sides where his shirt has floated up. He opens his mouth, lets his tongue flash out and run against Billy’s bottom lip. Billy actually opens his mouth, let’s Steve teasingly dip his tongue in for the briefest moment and Billy makes this soft, strained noise against Steve’s mouth before jerking back again.

Apprehensive eye contact is exchanged before Billy starts swimming towards the edge of the pool, moving in skilled, even strokes.

Steve scrambles after him and hoists himself up onto the cement, and they both lay back against the warmed cement, staring at the sky. Steve lets his feet stay submerged in the water.

Time passes as the clouds roll and tumble past them, indistinguishable shape-shifting with sudden bursts of white lightning. Steve keeps trying to think of something to say but he’s coming up blank.

What the fuck is he doing?

Billy finally breaks the silence. “Like I said. The pool’s closed.” He says, sitting up. His face is angled away from Steve.

Steve sits up too, retracting his feet from the water, moving to stand in tandem with Billy, trying to decipher his tone, his body language, but he’s getting nothing. Billy is stoic, each movement purposeful as he starts walking away from Steve towards the employee building. Steve feels the moment pass, and finally -- the sky breaks. Soft rain starts coming down around them, dripping into the pool, cement exploding in dark circles.

Say something, Steve thinks angrily.

Billy stops walking, but he doesn’t look back. “Go home, Steve.” He says firmly before he starts walking again. A thread of lightning flashes, turning everything white and blue.

Say something! Steve’s mind screams.

Steve opens his mouth, but a loud crack of thunder steals his voice.

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[catboynecromancy]

Adam and Ronan get themselves in a mid-sex predicament underneath the cut (NSFW)

-

“That’s – fuck, yeah – right there – right there – right fucking there – dammit!”

The raspy, stilted way Ronan moans out the words between each of his thrusts is almost too much to bear. Adam is already getting dangerously close to climax, edging exponentially closer each time he pounds into Ronan’s tight hole. “Fuck,” he gasps, his grip on the other boy’s hips tightening until it’s likely to leave tiny, finger-shaped bruises. “You feel so good, Ronan. So fucking good, all for me.”

Beneath him, Ronan whimpers and squirms with delight. His back arcs off the mattress, canting his hips to meet Adam halfway with every push. “God, Adam, I’m close. Don’t stop–”

Adam is happier to hear that than he probably should be. He’s been putting in the work, sinking into Ronan at a near merciless pace for a while now and, though fucking Ronan is almost always mindblowing, the need to get off supersedes anything else at this point. Choppy, dusty brown locks cling to Adam’s temples and forehead from sweat, skin feverish, flushed red, and glistening with perspiration. “Touch yourself,” he demands in a low growl. When Ronan doesn’t immediately do this, Adam leans down to press his mouth to the shell of his ear, panting against it. “Now.”

This earns him a pitchy whine, loud and utterly wrecked. Ronan peels his hand from where he’d been grasping at the sheets for dear life, fingers wrapping around his cock and tugging in a stunted attempt at jerking off. Adam cannot see his efforts, but he can feel Ronan’s knuckles brushing against his stomach, and hear how his breathing hitches as he works himself closer, closer, closer.

“That’s a good boy,” Adam huffs into his ear. He licks a strip up the ridged flesh, hips snapping in especially hard, and Ronan keens from the attention. “You wanna come for me, baby?”

Ronan makes another strangled sound, nodding. His jerking becomes even more erratic, desperate in his attempt to get off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah – Adam?”

His fingers dig harsher into soft flesh over bony hips, holding Ronan steady as he fucks faster, rougher, with the intention of guiding them both through a, hopefully, intense orgasm. Adam finds himself at a loss for words so he moans in response, gently knocking his head against Ronan’s and staying there.

“Adam,” Ronan says, again, although this time it sounds much more like he’s invoking God. The hand not working at himself reaches up, wrapping around Adam’s sweaty shoulders, holding him close. “Oh, fuck, I –” He groans, tilting to nuzzle his face into Adam’s. “I – love – you –”

“I love you, Ronan –”

There’s a long moment where it’s just the wet sound of Adam sinking into Ronan, over and over, mixed with their moans and futile gasps for air. Ronan’s muscles begin to tense, a telling sign he’s nearly there, and it’s then he says, “We should – get married.”

“What?” Adam thinks it might be a good idea to stop, force Ronan to explain himself, ask what the hell? But he’s almost there, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to come in Ronan’s ass after all the effort he’s put in getting to this point.

Ronan gives a particularly vulgar noise. His nails drive into the back of Adam’s shoulder, holding on. “Marry me,” He says with more force than before, like he really, truly means it.

Maybe he does.

Fuck.

Adam doesn’t have the brain capacity to figure it out. All he can think of is the aching need to get off, how he’s hot all over, and the friction as Ronan envelops every inch of his dick. There are multitudes of Adam Parrish and this is one of them – a teenage boy, addicted to his insufferably hot boyfriend, the pleasure he can derive from his often pliant body, the rush of adrenaline at climax, and the endorphins that follow. “Yes,” he responds, although it might be more about the way he’s feeling than an actual answer.

“Really?”

“Yes, yes, yes –”

“Oh, fucking God.”

“Louder,” Adam groans. “Really wanna hear you, baby boy.”

With a slow, rolling moan, Ronan gives in. He comes hard and unabashed and every bit as viciously as Adam wants. His body jerks, muscles tightening around Adam, totally uncontrolled, while he fucks Ronan through it. Hot, sticky cum paints their stomachs and Adam lets himself go, then, too. With more rough thrusts, his own orgasm washes over Adam and he allows himself to spill deep inside of Ronan in a way that makes his thoughts go mineminemine.

He moves slow, careful, relishing the now much wetter slide before coming to a complete stop. Adam presses his forehead to Ronan's, burning sweaty skin to burning sweaty skin, eyes closed and trying to catch his breath. They stay like that, silent save for their heavy pants for air, and Adam is calm, happy, head clear of all thoughts except for relief.

It would last longer, probably, if Ronan didn't start squirming awkwardly underneath him. Adam squints one eye open but all he sees is blurry pale, speckled skin and dark lashes. "What are you doing?" He asks, trying not to sound exasperated, but he's tired and all he really wants is to roll off of Ronan and take a nap.

"Nothing," Ronan grunts out, but he doesn't stop moving like he's having a difficult time staying still.

"Ronan, tell me."

"I'm just excited."

Adam blinks, curious and a little confused. "About?"

"We're engaged."

"We're…" Adam trails off and a heavy pit of apprehension behind to form in his stomach. "What?"

"Engaged," Ronan repeats. "I asked. You said yes."

"I…"

Adam stops to think, rewind his thoughts back a few minutes. Realization smacks him in the face and he shifts up, staring down at Ronan with wide, blue eyes. "That wasn't an actual proposal."

"No, it was." Ronan stares back, his expression serious. He's beautiful in his intensity, with his steady, ice-cold gaze, the slightest curl up of his lips, and skin gleaming from exertion. "I really meant it," he pauses and asks in a much smaller voice, "You didn't?"

"We can't be engaged."

"Why not?"

"We are only nineteen!"

"Your point being?" God, he's so haughty and self-righteous and sure of himself. Adam hates it and loves it.

Adam finally shifts back and tosses himself down next to Ronan on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling as he considers what his point actually is. "We're too young," he says, tapping fingers on his still lightly heaving ribcage. "And we haven't even been dating a year."

"I've been dating you in my head a lot longer than that," Ronan replies with such confidence, it's as if what he's saying isn't really fucking weird.

"That doesn't count. Also, yikes."

"Yikes?"

"One hundred percent, yikes to the max."

"You don't love me? You don't want to marry me?"

And there it is. Adam flips onto his side so he can look at Ronan, whose head is tilted towards him. "I do. Someday."

"What's the difference between now and someday if you're already planning on it?”

He opens his mouth and shut it, brows furrowing. Adam hates that Ronan has a point, hates that a part of him feels excitement at the thought of being contractually attached to him, hates how he wants to flip Ronan over, fuck him, make him ask it all over again while he's inside his ass just so he can really take it all in.

"This is ridiculous," Adam says instead. "You're being ridiculous."

"You're being ridiculous, Parrish."

"I can't stand you sometimes."

Ronan gives his typical jackal's laugh. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Adam pushes him. Ronan shifts onto his side so he can return it, harder than the one given. They end up in a tangle of long limbs and sweaty bodies, with Adam struggling for control, and Ronan ultimately winning. He gets Adam pinned underneath his broader, more muscular form, slots between his legs, holding his hands together helplessly above his head. No matter how much Adam struggles, he can't get free, and his arousal begins to build once more as Ronan grinds down on him.

"The worst," Adam moans, lids fluttering as he tries and fails again to free himself.

Ronan leans down, nestling his face to Adam's good ear. "You love it," he whispers in a raspy, sexy tone. "You wanna marry me so bad, you're just afraid to look stupid."

"Yeah," Adam agrees, desire clouding his thoughts. "Fuck, yeah."

"We'll lie and tell everyone we're doing it to get you on my insurance."

"Wait, you have insurance?"

"Not what you should be focusing on right now."

Adam makes a soft groan of assent. "Okay, insurance, whatever. Just – fucking – keep going."

Ronan rolls his hips lazily, laughing. "So needy."

He doesn't bother arguing because he is needy and, maybe, just stupidly obsessed with Ronan enough to go through with this horrible idea.

They'll come up with some believable excuse for the sudden engagement, allowing Adam to win in two ways. He gets to call Ronan his fiancé, and no one will think he's as much of an idiot as he is.

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 12: A Definitely-Not-Plan

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Taglist: @squidsushi , @astro-aye , @shitmyex, @sharks-are-friendly, @snakeguy99

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Definitely-Not-Plan

One of the worst parts of being a parent, Linda thought, was having to wake up your children when they were sound asleep with peace written all over their faces. As their original plan of spending the night at the campsite was discarded without warning, Aaron fell asleep very quickly into their high-speed journey to Silicon Valley. Even Rick (who had been adamant that he would stay awake) began to snore after an hour or so.

She hadn’t minded. She would much rather her boys be well-rested for whatever they were about to face.

While driving, it felt like the journey was taking forever. But now that they’d arrived it felt like it had taken no time at all. They weren’t too far from the massive Pal Labs facility that looked very menacing as it loomed in the near-distance.

They’d arrived at their destination. And she had no idea where to go from here. Unless they simply charged into the building…

Doing her best to brush all illegal-sounding thoughts from her mind, Linda continued to gently shove her son awake.

“Aaron, sweetie, we’re here.”

“Mmm not yet, Mom...”

She briefly considered leaving Aaron in the car to let him sleep. Which, although it may keep him safe, could also result in him being in a whole different danger that was out of their control. She’d rather keep him close.

“Rise and shine, son.” Rick said, purposefully speaking in a louder tone which caused Aaron to wince and squeeze his eyelids shut tighter. “We need to rescue the bots.”

That caused Aaron to stir a little. “But it’s still dark.”

It was true, dawn was only just beginning to break and soon they would lose the cover of darkness. But at least there was a chance, as small as it may be, that fewer people would be there due to it being the middle of the night.

However, Linda doubted it. Especially if both of the bots were inside.

“So what’s the plan, Lin?” Rick asked her once Aaron began to sleepily climb out of the car.

Shoot. She’d promised to have thought up a plan by the time they’d arrived in exchange for letting her drive the car. And in her defence she had tried, but without knowing what the situation was going to be like she couldn’t think of anything apart from…

“We storm in there and demand that they give them back.”

The hesitance on Rick’s face was totally justified. “Uhh, are you sure? No offence but that sounds like a pretty dumb plan, dear.”

“Got any better ideas?” She quipped back. And although it sounded sarcastic, the question was completely genuine.

“Why don’t you just pay for the bots?” Aaron supplied, shutting the car door in a way that sounded far too loud for the serenity of the night around them. “Just buy them off Pal Labs then they’ll leave us alone.”

“Aar, that’s a great idea!” Rick exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We may be completely broke afterwards, but it is a good idea.”

“Yeah…”

Linda had to admit that the idea was smart and even had a better chance of working than her plan. But there was something about the notion of having to buy her sons back that didn’t sit well with her. To treat them as collectable items, as inhuman as they were, went against all of her instincts.

(Her… sons? The bots. Her boys. Her… sons.)

“Let’s keep that as a last resort.”

“Yeah, that’s a better idea.” Rick agreed. “I’d like to save my money if possible, 'specially since I’m not working at the moment.”

She smiled at her small victory. Now came the hard part. “So… shall we go?”

“What, we just drive right up to them and walk in?” Rick frowned. “We really don’t have a better plan?”

“We never have a plan.” Aaron added from below them. “But we always win in the end, don’t we?”

Linda bit back a comment about how last time was nothing but pure luck. She also admired her son’s optimism and tried to let some of it sink in to calm her own nerves.

“You’re right.” She said, bending down to kiss Aaron’s forehead. “We’ll get them back.”

Even if it meant having to tear the whole building to the ground.

~-.-~

“I don’t understand.” Muttered Katie. “So you were trying to decommission them?”

“That’s what I thought they were trying to do.” Mark replied. “That’s what I was trying to do, but apparently that wasn’t the plan. They want one disassembled and one online for some reason.”

With Agent Ward busy elsewhere and due to the lack of agents/employees at this time of night, nobody was able to supervise the two as they sat in the locked office. It gave them an ample opportunity to have a private chat.

And it also allowed Katie to gather as much information about what the hell was going on here.

“Right… but why?”

Mark shrugged. “Beats me. Unless they want to build their own robot army-”

He paused abruptly- a look of horror growing on his face.

“Oh my god they wanna build a robot army.”

Katie wasn’t even surprised. Of course that was what they were planning, what else could it be? The robots had already proved their worth at being able to take over the world, just imagine what they would be able to do if they were utilized by the government of any country, let alone the United States.

“...Are you sure you can put him back together?” She asked quietly.

Mark Bowman blinked. “What?”

“Eri- uh, that Pal MAX bot in the lab.”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m pretty sure. I specifically told them not to break anything when taking it apart, whether they listened or not is out of my hands.”

“Right.”

They fell into silence for a few moments. Mark was sitting in his wheelie chair while Katie sat on the computer desk at the side of the room. It was surprisingly comfortable.

It was Mark that was the first to speak up again.

“You called it Eric.”

Katie hung her head. It sounded a lot more like an accusation than a comment. “Yeah… I did.”

“Why?” Mark Bowman continued. “Because the Evil Warden can’t be right, you and your family aren’t actually-”

“Working with them?” Katie finished. “I mean yeah, if adopting them counts.”

She knew it was probably a bad idea to tell him the truth, but she really needed an ally in this place, and since Mark Bowman seemed to be a prisoner in his own facility he was the best (and only) person for the job.

It took a few seconds for the implications to sink in.

“...You what? Adopted them?”

“Yeah.” Said Katie nonchalantly. “They helped us save the world, actually. A dinosaur fell on them and they turned defective and told us how to stop Pal. We literally couldn't have done it without them.”

The expression on Mark Bowman’s face was priceless.

“It's a long story. And then when all the other robots switched off, they had nowhere to go so we took them in.”

Mark looked stunned. “So you use them like normal? Get them to cook and clean and stuff?”

“God, no!” Katie cried. “They’re a part of the family! They’re practically children and they have their own personalities and everything. They gave themselves the names ‘Eric’ and ‘Deborahbot 5000’.”

“...And ‘Eric’ is chopped up on a table in Lab 5.”

Katie sighed, the memory of what she’d seen flashing through her mind. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“Well that makes a lot more sense.” Said Mark. “I still think turning them off is the best option though. They may seem nice, but they’re dangerous-”

“No they’re not! They’re absolutely harmless! Deborahbot practically started crying when he stood on a beetle by accident!”

Mark scoffed, but at least he didn’t argue.

“We all love them.” She added. “We just want them back. And I’m pretty sure the whole world is safer if they’re with my family instead of the CIA.”

Mark seemed to contemplate this for a few moments. “I mean…”

All of a sudden, the computer behind Katie began to flash red, causing her to jump straight off and Mark to leap onto his feet.

“What’s that?!” Questioned Katie, pointing at the screen that was flashing the words: CODE #15.

“That’s the alarm.” Said Mark worriedly, rushing to the computer. “Someone’s broken in.”

Comments make my day! :)

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Jealous - Brett Talbot x Reader

(gif source)

Summary: y/n’s car breaks down and a classmate of hers gets a little flirty while helping her. Brett is Not A Fan.

Word Count: 2004

Warnings: cursing & a cute lil fluffy ending

a/n: this is my first brett x reader fic (i’m having quite a few firsts, aren’t i?), requested by @anamxleetuan​ . i’m currently open for requests, so feel free to send some in! also, this is a wee bit dialogue heavy, i hope ya like it anyway.

masterlist

“Crap” y/n muttered to herself as she unsuccessfully tried to start her car for the fourth time. Her little sedan was about twenty years old and had definitely seen better days, but it got her from point A to point B so she couldn’t complain too much. Until now, when she was stranded in the school parking lot. She groaned and rested her forehead on the steering wheel in between her hands. Of course this had to happen in the middle of August, when the lovely California weather was resting at a not-so-comfortable 88 degrees. 

She was about to dial her boyfriend, Brett, when she remembered that he was at lacrosse practice and probably wouldn’t see any calls or texts for at least another hour. With the exception of herself and a few of the lacrosse players’ cars, the parking lot was completely deserted. y/n tried for a fifth and final time to start her car, the vehicle sputtering and going silent once again. She huffed out an annoyed breath before mustering up the will to get off of the surprisingly comfortable seat and try to find out what was wrong. 

No one was ever able to make the mistake of thinking y/n y/l/n couldn’t take care of herself. She made sure she always knew at least the basics for responding to accidents and emergency situations. She practically knew enough first aid to tack an M.D. to the end of her name, she knew how to replace her own flat tires, and had proved on multiple occasions - much to Brett’s surprise - that she had good enough survival skills to last in the woods for a few days on next to nothing. Yet, here she was, frustration growing with each additional minute she spent out in the sun as she tried to figure out why her car wouldn’t start. After studying the contents underneath the hood for a solid five minutes and finding nothing out of place visually, she cursed under her breath. It’s the damn battery. Of course that dash light isn’t working, either. Conveniently enough, she had no jumper cables, however, the more obvious set back was that she was lacking another car to jump hers with.

y/n groaned as she threw her head back and rubbed a hand over her face. She was weighing her options - wait for Brett to finish practice and catch a ride home with him or call a repair service that she definitely didn’t have the money for - neither of which seemed ideal. She was interrupted mid-thought when she heard someone clear their throat behind her and she jumped, her heart practically beating out of her chest. She turned to look at the source of the noise, a hand delicately resting over her chest in attempts to calm her racing heart. Part of her was prepared to encounter the latest supernatural villain to grace Beacon Hills when she turned around, so she was pleasantly surprised when she was met with a boy she recognized from her biology class. He wore a bright smile that would make any girl weak in the knees and his honey brown eyes twinkled in the sunlight. Max, I think his name is… Just before she was about to open her mouth to introduce herself, he spoke first.

“y/n, right? From biology?” he asked. y/n shook her head with a smile, a little bit surprised that he knew her name considering the fact that she didn’t really talk to anyone in her classes. He cleared his throat after not-so-discreetly checking her out for a moment. “I’m Max. You need some help?” he offered. In that moment y/n found herself thanking everything that was holy for the unexpected encounter with her classmate.

“Actually, yeah. Do you have any jumper cables?” she asked, a hopeful look in her eyes. Max smiled back and nodded.

“I do. I’ll go grab my car and meet you back here,” he finished as he began to walk away. y/n nearly squealed in excitement. Okay, so maybe getting her car jumped wasn’t as big of a blessing as she was making it out to be, but it meant she didn’t have to shell out hundreds of dollars to a repair service that probably wouldn’t do anything anyways, it also meant she didn’t have to wait out in the sun for her boyfriend to finish lacrosse practice.

Max pulled his car into the spot next to hers and y/n had to admit that she was impressed. She let her eyes roam over the contours of his sleek black mustang as she bit her lip and he smirked a little to himself at her reaction. The sound of the car door shutting snapped her out of her trance and she looked up with a grateful smile. Max returned her smile as he moved towards the trunk of his vehicle, pulling out the jumper cables. He popped his car’s hood and began hooking up the cables. y/n offered to do it but Max declined, insisting on doing it himself. Ah, would you like at that, chivalry isn’t dead. After he hooked up the cables and started running his car, he leaned against his hood and they started talking about different things, mostly school though. If y/n wasn’t mistaken, the tall, deep brown haired boy who she’d never formally spoken to was flirting with her.

y/n was so wrapped up in her conversation with Max that she didn’t see Brett coming out of the locker room with his lacrosse duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. Max checked his watch and figured enough time had passed for y/n to be able to start her car. He gestured for her to do so and she excitedly walked towards the driver door, swinging her key ring around her index finger. She slowly turned the key in the ignition, crossing her fingers as she did so. When the car hummed to life she cheered out loud, pumping her fist into the air. Before she knew what she was doing, her excitement took over and she wrapped Max in a bone crushing hug. Brett raised his eyebrows from afar and picked up his pace as he walked towards the pair.

“Oh, shit,” y/n murmured once she realized what she was doing and quickly pulled away. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. That was probably so awkward and out of line- I’m just- I’m just really excited, thank you so much,” she rushed out sheepishly, wringing her hands together. Max simply looked down at her smugly before turning to unhook the cables.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he smirked in her direction. Though Brett was still out of normal earshot, his heightened senses picked up every word of the conversation. He normally didn’t consider himself to be a jealous person, but he’d be lying if he said that the way Max looked at y/n and the way he called her “sweetheart” didn’t set him on edge. It wasn’t until Brett stood only a few parking spaces away from y/n car that either of them took notice of his presence. 

“Oh! Hey Brett!” y/n beamed as she turned towards him. Her bright smile and the innocent glint in her eyes was almost enough to tame his jealousy. Almost.

“Hey, babe,” Brett replied, placing special emphasis on the pet name. He approached her and wrapped an arm around her back, letting his fingers rest firmly on her hip as he kissed her cheek. Max watched the exchange between the two, suddenly feeling a little deflated. His Adam's apple bobbed while he swallowed thickly as Brett shot daggers at him with his eyes. y/n noticed the look Brett was throwing Max’s way and internally rolled her eyes. He’s acting like a territorial dog, she thought. In attempts to diffuse the situation, she cleared her throat, interrupting the one-sided staring match.

“Brett, this is Max from my bio class. Max, this is Brett, my boyfriend.” she introduced the boys. Max coughed, assumedly choking on his own spit, and offered a nervous smile to Brett, who simply gave a curt nod of his head. This time when y/n rolled her eyes she didn’t try to hide it. Knowing that her boyfriend’s mood wouldn’t improve while Max was still with them, she decided to wrap things up for everyone’s sake. She lightly elbowed Brett’s side, feeling bad for Max, the confident boy appearing a little frightened now (and probably rightfully so).

“Well, I really appreciate all your help, you’re seriously a life-saver,” y/n thanked him. Brett bit his tongue and turned his head to the side, trying to keep his cool as Max seemed to become more relaxed while y/n spoke to him.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Max cleared his throat. “I should, um, I should- I should probably get going,” he stammered out in a questioning tone. “See you in biology,” he finished, smiling warmly but nervously before he got into his car. Brett stared at Max driving away until the black mustang pulled out of the parking lot. When he turned back, y/n was looking up at him with a disappointed look on her face.

“Really?” she gestured to where Max’s car was once parked. In all honesty, she found his antics more amusing than she did annoying, but that didn’t mean he had to scare her classmate. Brett shrugged his shoulders shamelessly as he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head. y/n let out a semi-frustrated huff but nonetheless relaxed into his arms and wrapped hers around his shoulders.

“He was being too friendly,” Brett argued as he brushed some of his girlfriend’s hair out of her face. 

“He was being helpful. You scared him,” she replied, her chin resting on his chest as she glanced up at him. Brett smirked before leaning down to give her a sweet kiss.

“Good,” he murmured against her lips, the smirk still plastered across his face. y/n rolled her eyes and lightly swatted his chest, before pulling away as a smirk of her own slowly spread across her face. Brett’s smile faded as he took in her mischievous look.

“What,” he asked blankly, not entirely sure he wanted to know what had her grinning that way. She slowly began walking backwards, poking his chest as she distanced herself.

“You’re jealous,” she teased, a devious glint in her eye. He let out a short laugh, throwing his head to the side in amusement.

“I am not,” he bluffed. The moment the words left his lips y/n knew she was right, she could read him a little too well.

“Oh man, you totally are,” she laughed as she turned to walk towards the driver door to get in her car. She added a bit of swing to her hips as she walked away to seal the deal and it didn’t take long before Brett cracked. He was on her in seconds, pressing her up against the side of her car as he breathed down her neck.

“So maybe I am. I can’t help it that you’re so damn hot,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned around in his arms so her back could rest on the car as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. Her eyes danced over his face as she took in his sharp features and warm eyes.

“No need to worry, babe. I only have eyes for you,” y/n assured with a wink and small grin. She continued to stare up at him, love swirling in her eyes as she took in the way he practically glowed in the afternoon sunlight.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Brett replied, resting a hand on the back of her neck as he leaned down to capture her lips in a slow, loving kiss.

join my tag list!

tag list: @linkpk88​

[hargrove-mayfields]

Autistic max? I’m all in -🦖

yes!! Max being on the spectrum is one of my favorite headcanons! Here’s a bit of my thoughts and hcs for you anon! <3

okay so first i wanna talk a little about where this hc came from! this idea was born in my head for a multitude of reasons, but the general summary is this:

-she misses a lot of social+emotional cues! she didn’t pick up on just how annoyed Mike was with her in the gym and kept pushing until El intervened, she didn’t detect any of Lucas’ panic or frustration when he was explaining the upside down to her until he touches her, and when el is jealous and just not interested in meeting her, she seems to be completely unfazed by that until she walks away. also every scene she has with Billy, he’s very shut off and she seems to be confused about what she’s expected to say, missing that he’s angry until he’s lashing out, and idk to me it just seems like she doesn’t really have a grasp on understanding others’ emotions!

-similarly, she only seems to react in the face of immediate danger, as if she’s a lot of the time unaware of how bad things truly are around her. like when she’s helping to find dart without even knowing what’s going on, driving a whole muscle car and going down into the tunnels without a hint of fear, seeming barely concerned when the mindflayer was about to drop through the ceiling. it’s almost like she has trouble fully processing the consequences of certain things, which could also explain why she sneaks out even though she probably knows what Neil is like and the fact that it could potentially put her in danger.

-the way she dresses just screams tactile sensitivity! she doesn’t ever wear anything flowy, any scratchy materials, and even at the snowball, where we see Susan fussing over her, she’s still dressed for comfort. what young girl with a mother clearly interested in making her pretty is going to get away with wearing jeans to a school dance if she doesn’t have sensory issues?

-also, whenever she gets upset she seems to shut down. like she almost never talks to Billy after he yells at her unless it’s necessary, when her and Lucas are talking on top of the bus it definitely seems like she’s struggling to voice her feelings or put words to her emotions, when Billy’s in the sauna, after he’s activated she starts turning in on herself, and after his death she’s just sitting in his room. like maybe she doesn’t really understand her own emotions that well either.

I’m not really viewing any of this as like, solid evidence or anything btw, these are just some things I’ve noticed about her as an autistic girl her age and living in a very similar situation that I think are neat and relatable!

onto the stuff I literally made up because I love her!

-Susan gives me autism mommy vibes. Like, making it her identity that she has a child with autism, and at times that can get super frustrating for Max because she hates being her mom’s little trophy daughter, gossiped about at all the potlucks so people feel sorry for her. Her absolute least favorite thing is “She’s such a handful.” and when Susan pulls the I’m so lonely because of taking care of you card to make her feel bad. Especially because she doesn’t feel very taken care of, once she’d hit a certain age her mother decided she’d be alright without all that “kid stuff” and basically tossed her into the world on her on. (hence why she’s Billys responsibility)

-In the 80s (and still now if we’re being entirely honest) it was very normal to just throw a casual r slur into conversation and it kills Max every time her friends say it, especially Mike because she thinks he’s being mean and doesn’t like her. She doesn’t know how to explain to them that that hurts her feelings because she doesn’t even know how to bring it up that she’s autistic. Billy tells her once to try to cheer her up that he could beat them up for her but she cries even harder because that’s what she doesn’t want, is for them to think she’s overreacting. He feels bad and tries to make up for it bringing it up with some of the moms of the group and asking that they tell their kids to stop using that word ever.

-In California she was in special ed classes, but Hawkins Middle deems that not necessary for someone of her “functioning level” (yuck) and she gets landed in coed instead. It might’ve been alright if that was how she started her education, but she was already used to classes of four or five kids like her, and she just cannot learn in that new environment. So she does really, really bad in school her first year in Hawkins. She feels kind of self conscious around her friends because they’re all so smart and her grades make her feel stupid even though it’s not her fault, and that’s why she kinda drifts towards being close with El because she struggles with learning things too.

-Smells are probably her worst overstimulation triggers. Things like cigarette smoke, fresh brewed coffee, her moms perfume, cooking and baking smells, the automatic air freshener thing, candles. Pretty much anything stronger than the smell of water is just overwhelming for her, especially if there’s something else already working her up, because then a whiff of something too strong can put her straight into a meltdown. Billy decides to quit smoking for her (he’ll never admit that, he’s adamant that it was because it was messing with his lung capacity and he’s trying to work out) and he also does things like buy Susan a new, less offensive perfume for her birthday and open windows to get stuffy air out of the house. They never really talk about what that does for her but like, that’s part of how they start getting closer, is when he starts making little accommodations for her like that.

-In addition to smells, there are very specific sounds she can’t stand. It’s not all loud noises, some of them like the rev of Billy’s car or a bass guitar at an outdoor amphitheater are some of her favorites, but the ones she doesn’t like, she really hates. Things like styrofoam, dishes hitting off of each other, something scratching against ice that builds up in the freezer, TV static, the toaster popping up or the oven beeping, and people who can’t chew with their mouths closed (looking at you Billy, keep that gum in your mouth please) all make her feel gross. She’ll try to physically shake off the way those sounds make her feel but sometimes they’re just too much and she shuts down for a while until she gets to hear something else. In that case usually really quiet music or someone talking to her quietly can reel her back in.

-Her interests vary a lot! The longest she’s ever held one special interest was a Miss Piggy phase! Susan liked that she was showing interest in a feminine character because of a lot of her si’s were tomboyish, but Max liked Piggy because she knew karate and punched people who laughed at her or tried to make her feel bad about herself! She has all sorts of Piggy collectibles, like toys, bed sheets, posters, books, mugs and watches! Otherwise her interests and fixations tend to come and go pretty quickly, like one week she could want to know everything there is to know about pro skaters, and the next she’s into the history of circuses! She liked cars for a little while and Billy was really excited to indulge in that and let her get familiar with the camaro, but she shifted to video games pretty soon after and he had to let it drop.

-Another interest that’s also pretty constant for her is nature! Not only for the sensory experience of it, listening to leaves rustle and birds chirp and water rush, but also all the knowledge about it. She can identify any type of flower, grass, tree, critter, or fungus! When she’s melting down and needs to be away from the house, she asks Billy to take her to the state park so she can just sit and be quiet and calm down on a fallen tree or a swing set somewhere. They do have some woods behind their house but she’s too afraid to venture out there and prefers to be out with her brother anyways.

-Stims! She’ll fiddle with zippers and buttons and loose threads constantly to the point that they buy her three or four of the same jackets and shirts for when she inevitably breaks them. She also chews on sleeves and hoodie strings a lot. Other tactile stims she favors are string tricks and braiding and tieing knots! Braiding her and Billy’s hair is something she’ll do anytime she needs to feel grounded, and she has a whole bunch of those little wooden boards that kids use to learn how to tie their shoes to tie knots with. She also always has a pocketful of yarn, and her favorite thing to make with them is a spider web or a star!

-Sort of related to her fascination with string is that her shoelaces never ever match, she has like a whole drawer in her room full of different ones to change them out! (and she has Miss Piggy Bow Biters to put on them!)

-She’s also a very verbal stimmer at times! Giggles for days with Max, if she’s excited, happy, nervous, whatever, she’s giggling. Humming and mimicking too, like if she hears a sound she likes she’ll try to make it, whether it be part of a song or something she hears outside. But if she is sad she’ll get as quiet as a mouse.

Idk these are just like my sort of canon compliant hcs I guess? Like what I feel would be true for her in the timeline and storyline of the show!

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

Oh it felt so easy then.

My @malexsanta​ fic for @manesguerin​​, Merry Christmas Sarah!! ✨

This is the first time I’ve ever been given a prompt so I really hope I’ve done it justice. I’ve gone with the prompt ‘lost decade’ and as you may notice by the length of it, it kind of got away from me… but I really hope you like it!

[Also on AO3]

Summary: Ten years of letters filed away with such love and care into a decade old shoebox and what was it all for? 

A look at the lost decade through Michael’s eyes.

Word Count: 21,499

❄️👽🎄💌

Ten years was a long time.

Five hundred and twenty-one weeks to be filled with laughter and tears, friends and family, old secrets and new opportunities. 

Three thousand, six hundred and fifty days to get over a stupid high school crush that was never going to last.

Michael closed the door behind him, furious at the sudden emotions raging inside him. He hadn’t heard from Alex in a long time, hadn’t see him in even longer. So why was his heart racing at the mere sight of the man he once loved.

Glancing at the many whiteboards and notepads filled with scientific scribble and spaceship blueprints reminded Michael that there was so much more than just the thin wall of the airstream keeping them apart. They’d been kidding themselves to even try to make it work. They were two different people with two different lives.

His eyes wandered to the other end of the trailer. He should have thrown out the box long ago, burnt it even.

He had been so proud of the fact that he hadn’t looked inside in months, hadn’t given in to the temptation to see Alex’s delicate penmanship and carefully chosen words. He had most of the letters committed to memory, but re-reading them after a difficult day used to help calm the chaos in his mind.

It had been a long time since he’d forced himself to forget about the box and all it contained but one look at Alex and all the feelings he’d spent months suppressing had come flooding back. The feelings of hope and happiness. Of love.

He slowly walked towards the closet and crouched down to rummage through his belongings. There were a few things piled inside but right at the bottom was what he wanted.

A simple shoebox. The writing on the front was long worn away and the lid was practically falling apart but the box itself wasn’t important. He lifted the lid and a stale scent of roses immediately filled the air. His hand brushed the dried petals to the side before hesitating above the first envelope. 

Ten years of letters filed away with such love and care into a decade old shoebox and what was it all for?

September 2008

It started with the hubcaps.

Well, really, it all started seventy years ago when one innocent eyeliner wearing, music loving boy’s ancestors began a lifelong mission to destroy Michael’s family.

But those goddamn hubcaps. I mean, if he was going to steal anything from Kyle Valenti’s car it could have been something useful. His truck needed a new battery after all.

The thrill of the theft hadn’t quite overpowered the pain in his heart and a night in a cell, alone with his thoughts, definitely hadn’t helped the way he thought it would.

Ever since Alex had told him that he was enlisting, Michael had been acting weird around him. Getting into more and more fights, drinking and smoking and doing all he could to cause trouble, regardless of how much he could see it was hurting Alex.

And every time Alex begged him to get it together, Michael was reminded of the fact that the only person he had ever had feelings for would soon be leaving him. That Alex was choosing to leave him to follow in his father’s footsteps.

So he pushed Alex away. He got himself arrested all for the sake of self preservation which should have felt like a win but really all he had done was waste the last day he could have had with Alex.

It had been a few weeks since Alex had left for Texas for Basic Training and Michael hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Though he couldn’t blame him. Michael had made it very clear that their short lived relationship was over.

And maybe that’s really all it was meant to be. Maybe it was just some summer fling that meant nothing in the long run. Simply a way for two broken people to just breathe for five seconds.

And maybe it was stupid for him to believe it could have been anything more.

As he stared up at the starry night sky from the back of his truck he felt his phone vibrate inside his trouser pocket.

Another text from Isobel no doubt.

She had been trying to get in touch with him all evening. All week in fact. And he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it today.

After graduation she had been adamant that Michael wasn’t going to drift away from them. Not seeing each other just because they were no longer forced to share a classroom was not an option.

So she had taken to texting him. A lot. Mainly mundane things, little updates about her life like a job interview she’d managed to secure or a new boy she was possibly seeing. She’d always try to ask about what he was up to or encourage him to come over for dinner, but that was usually his cue to stop replying. A dead battery or no credit was his go to excuse but there’s no way she really believed him.

He just couldn’t face seeing her or Max, not yet. The horror of Rosa, Kate and Jasmine’s deaths and their decision to cover it up was still so fresh in his mind and any opportunity to not remember it was preferable. 

It was strange, thinking about it. That night was one of the worst nights of his life for two wildly different reasons.

A very personal, homophobic attack that left his hand crushed beyond repair and a triple murder that no one would ever know the real truth about. Not even the person responsible.

And while he just wanted to take his mind off the people involved in one of these for a little while, he never wanted to forget the person involved in the other.

He had no idea if he would ever see Alex again, but just hoped that he was okay. That he was happy. That he was safe. 

And that would have to be good enough for now.

November 2008

Michael’s truck jolted to a stop in the Wild Pony parking lot. 

It was earlier than he’d usually be here but the day drinking was a new thing he was trying. 

He’d been having regrets lately about not taking up the UNM scholarship. He was fully aware that he was more than smart enough to continue with his studies and yeah maybe the courses would be far more mundane than he’d like, but at least he could do something worthy with this life. But then every time he considered re-thinking his decision, his hopes were brought crashing back down to earth with the reminder of why he didn’t go to university in the first place.

He had slowly begun letting Max and Isobel back into his life, a coffee date here and a shopping trip there, but sometimes all the friendly conversations in the world couldn’t stop his desire to just be numb every now and then.

The excessive alcohol consumption was a recent development, but hey, a town drunk has to start at some point, right?

There was a clerk at a gas station a few miles away that had no problems turning a blind eye to his clean shaven baby face and he’d managed to get a fake ID for the more difficult purchases. Such as the Wild Pony. A typical Roswell bar without the added green alien decor. Every local knew the Wild Pony and unfortunately the Wild Pony knew him - or more importantly, his age.

Maybe he’d get lucky today and it would be a new bar tender but if not, then he’d just slip some acetone into a soft drink. That would have to do the trick for now.

It was mid afternoon so there was a decent amount of people inside, but no sign of the rowdy drunks that tended to emerge after dark. The only person working behind the bar was currently wiping down the surfaces as a pair of customers walked away with their drinks.

Michael swaggered confidently past the men at the pool table and the group of girls in the booth that he vaguely recognised from school and perched on one of the stools at the bar. “I’ll have whatever’s cheapest.”

“You got ID?” The bar tender gave him a look that just screamed I don’t have time for your bullshit, but Michael was nothing if not persistent. She walked over, arms folded neatly across her chest, cloth still gripped in one hand, and came to a stop in front of him.

The badge pinned to her denim jacket spelled out her name in thick capital letters but Michael didn’t need to read it. Everyone knew who Maria Deluca was. With her beautiful curls and disarming smile, she was a friend to almost everyone at New Roswell High.

And though she was one of Alex’s oldest friends, Michael had barely said two words to her during their many years walking the same school halls but right now she was his best chance at scoring a drink.

“C’mon Deluca, we don’t have to bother with all that.” He mustered up as much charm as he could manage as he leant forward on the bar but Maria wasn’t swayed, her face set in a clear display of annoyance.

“I told you last time, I’m not getting fired just to help fuel these little angsty life choices you’ve been making recently.”

“Your mom’s not gonna fire you for helping a friend.”

“Oh wow,” Her eyes widened, feigning surprise, “Sorry I wasn’t aware we’d become friends.”

“Well,” Michael shrugged, “Every time I come in, it’s like you’re here waiting for me, so I just thought…” 

“I’m stuck this side of the bar Guerin. I have no choice but to put up with whatever you think is going on right now.”

Michael sniggered as he raised an eyebrow. The chances of him getting drunk anytime soon were dwindling by the second but he was enjoying the banter nonetheless.

“One day. One day I’ll get you to admit how much you love seeing me.”

Maria rolled her eyes as she flipped the cloth over one shoulder. “I am glad you’re here actually.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. It means I don’t have to spend my time trying to track you down.” She rummaged through a bag sitting behind the bar before pulling out an envelope. “Someone clearly knows you well.”

Michael took it from her with a frown. One quick glance at the front confirmed that it was indeed labelled to him, only with the Wild Pony’s address neatly scripted underneath his name.

Who would be sending him a letter? Who even sent letters anymore?

He looked up to ask Maria when it had arrived but she’d already made her way over to the customers at the other end of the bar.

Without hesitation he carefully ripped it open and pulled out the piece of paper inside. Impatient as ever, his eyes immediately darted to the end of the page to see who it was from and he almost fell off the chair at the name signed at the bottom.

It had been four months since he’d seen Alex. Four month since he’d heard his beautiful voice or seen his perfect face. And yet here, in his hands, was a letter from the one person he honestly thought he’d never hear from again.

Someone on a nearby table cheered loudly and Michael was suddenly reminded of where he was. It didn’t feel right, reading Alex’s first words to him in months under the harsh neon lights of the bar so without sparing a second glance at Maria, he practically sprinted all the way to the parking lot, yanking the door open as soon as he reached his truck.

Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the paper and began reading.

Dear Michael,

I’ve debated writing this letter for a while now, mainly because of how we left things. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep in contact but I’ve been missing some people back in Roswell and I think I just needed to get a few things out of my head. I might not even send this letter, but if you’re reading this then I guess it means my sentimentality won out.

I’ve been thinking about how peaceful the desert is back home. How quiet it would be when we’d park the truck in the middle of nowhere and just lie under the sun for hours. It’s surprising the things you notice yourself missing when you haven’t been somewhere in a while.

There’s so many people here it feels like school all over again. I tried to distance myself from everyone in some last act of defiance, but I’ve ended up making a few friends. Honestly I think it would be impossible to get through this alone.

I’ve finished basic training now. It was harder than I thought it was going to be but I got through it and I’m onto the next phase. We get to choose the specialism ourselves so at least that’s a positive and who knows, maybe I’ll be quite good at it.

I’m going to be here for a least a few months to complete my training before I find out where I’m being assigned so I’ve included my address incase you want to write back.

Whatever it is that you decided to do with your life, I hope you’re okay.

From,

Alex.

P.S. I’m sorry for sending this to the Wild Pony, I hope Maria got it to you okay. I would have addressed it to ‘Michael Guerin’s Truck’, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t quite reach you.

Michael re-read the letter another three times before he could bear to take his eyes off the page.

Alex had written to him. Amongst all the training and hard work and confusion over how they’d parted, Alex had taken the time to sit down and write to him. 

It was brief and simple and Michael couldn’t stop smiling.

He fumbled trying to get his keys in the ignition before putting the truck in gear, already planning his reply, all desire to get drunk suddenly forgotten.

February 2009

“I don’t pay you to sit around doodling.” Sanders called over gruffly from under the hood of the car he was working on.

“I’ve already finished with Campbell’s jeep.” Michael replied distractedly as he continued to scribble in the notepad.

The repair had needed longer than he had expected so he was taking what he deemed as a well earned break. If the old man had a problem with it then he could go ahead and find a better mechanic. Michael didn’t earn nearly enough to put up with his attitude anyway.

Sitting under the barely put together shelter that Sanders had the audacity to call his workshop, Michael started to scrawl a reply to Alex. Letter number four had arrived just under a week ago and he had yet to come up with a response.

Again addressed to the Wild Pony, Alex had talked about the latest shenanigans of his fellow airmen and how he’d been missing his guitar lately. He never went into detail about the work he was doing but he always made sure to mention that it was going well. Michael could practically visualise him picking out the words very carefully to make sure it didn’t sound like he was boasting, but sometimes it made writing a reply hard.

He was so pleased for Alex. Every letter he received had a more and more happier tone to it and honestly, he was glad that Alex was finding his place in the Air Force. He will always hate that he signed up, but considering he was going to be a part of it for a long time, Michael was just relieved that he had settled in. 

It did mean, however, that his life felt very boring in comparison. What was he supposed to say? Hey Alex, I fixed another car today. I’ll probably be hanging out with Isobel later to spend hours listening to her moan about something before going to sleep in my truck and doing it all again tomorrow.

He was just about to jot something down when something small and hard bounced off his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Michael rubbed his head and glared at the man.

“Are you listening to me?” Sanders waved the wrench in his hand as he tried to punctuate his point.

“Obviously.”

“What did I say?”

“…words?” Michael replied innocently, throwing his hands up in defeat when Sanders looked ready to throw something else. “Alright, alright sorry, what did you want?”

“The Johnson's SUV needs its engine looking at and when you’re done with that you can change the brake pads on that pickup that came in this morning.”

“On it.” Michael gave a halfhearted salute as he grabbed the closest toolbox and headed out into the sun.

He wasn’t really in the mood to be working in the heat today but at least this way the vehicles were far enough away from Sanders that he wouldn’t have any distractions from his real task.

He’d been grabbing odd shifts at the junkyard since he was fourteen, but last month he’d finally persuaded Sanders to hire him properly. If he was to have any hope of moving out of his truck, he needed to start earning some proper money doing something he was half decent at.

He’d been trying to find a way to work this news into his letter but he couldn’t quite find the words. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it was because he was ashamed, but that’s exactly what it was. Alex was at the start of a prestigious career that would take him across the world, learning new skills and earning decent money.

Michael was a mechanic. Barely.

And he knew that Alex wouldn’t care about the difference in their jobs, he’d just be happy that Michael was a step above wasting his life. It was just so hard to fit everything he really wanted to say into one letter.

Maybe he was struggling so much with the words because he’d much rather say it in person. He hadn’t seen Alex in forever and he missed the simple act of just being with him. Of sitting in the back of the truck, shoulders touching and hands intertwined. The amount of serotonin a short handwritten note could produce was ridiculous but it in no way replaced the feel of having the real thing in front of him.

Though if Alex was feeling anything near the way he was, then maybe it didn’t matter what he wrote. The mere fact that he had replied would hopefully be enough.

April 2009

Isobel looked at him disapprovingly, switching her many bags from one hand to the other. “Really Michael? Just because you live in the desert doesn’t mean you need to actually start dressing like a cowboy.”

A shopping trip with Isobel wasn’t Michael’s first choice for a Saturday afternoon, but he’d had no good excuse to refuse as she practically dragged him to the mall.

For someone who liked to try on almost everything in a single store, Isobel had chosen what she wanted to buy pretty quickly. Now it was Michael’s turn but he honestly wasn’t sure what she expected of him. He’d been living in the same clothes for years now, he didn’t know how to do the whole shopping spree thing.

“You’re the one who wanted to buy me new clothes.”

“Yeah, because I wanted to make you look cool. Not like a nineteen year old version of the Lone Ranger.”

Michael looked in the mirror again. The black cowboy hat resting atop his head was working well with the rancher aesthetic he had going on. It hid his curls and made him look slightly older, giving him more of an edge than his baseball cap could usually muster. 

It just felt right. 

Growing up, he’d never had the chance to really figure out his own identity besides angry, rebellious orphan and going full-on cowboy felt like a good place to start. 

Besides, he looked damn good.

“You’ve already chosen the rest of my wardrobe for me Isobel. You can’t let me make one big boy decision for myself?” Michael gave her a pointed looked as he took the hat off and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fine. Just don’t show Max, he’s already started a godawful belt buckle collection, I don’t want him getting any ideas.” She happily snatched it out of his hand and strutted elegantly to the till.

He had missed these moments with Isobel. The familial feeling of her bossing him around.

No one ever talked about how easy it was to drift apart from people after high school, how the close bonds you thought you’d formed over the lunch table could so quickly disappear once you’re all thrown into the real world.

But the three of them were different. Michael, Max and Isobel, the three children found wandering the desert all those years ago. He hadn’t been able to rid himself of them then and turns out he still couldn’t now. Despite his best efforts to distance himself, they had managed to completely worm their way back into his life over the past few months and honestly he was better off for it.

Today wasn’t the first weekend outing he’d endured and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but his heart felt a little lighter from having spent it in good company. With the bags heavy in their hands, they grabbed some food at a nearby burger place before calling it a day. He dropped Isobel home and drove to his usual night-time parking spot.

Climbing effortlessly onto the back of the truck, he looked inside the singular bag Isobel had gifted him. He’d come away with a new pair of boots, a few t-shirts and the cowboy hat. Nowhere near enough in Isobel’s opinion but after the reminder that he didn’t exactly have a closet right now she had conceded.

He shoved the bag into the corner and leant forward to pulled out the letter that had been burning a hole in his back pocket all day. He grimaced at the sight of it, with its crease down the middle and its crumpled edges. Isobel had ambushed him coming out of the Wild Pony before he’d had a chance to read it - or put it away - which meant it had been hidden in the only place available at the time.

As much as he loved her, he wasn’t quite ready to share it with her yet.

He unrolled his blanket and threw it around his shoulders, settling back against the truck before opening the envelope. He’d finally told Alex about the junkyard in his last letter and he’d been waiting to hear back for a few weeks now.

Dear Michael,

That’s amazing news about the job! You really are the best mechanic in the whole of Roswell so Sanders is lucky to have you.

You shouldn’t put yourself down though. You used to always be fixing things when I was back home (annoyingly effortlessly from what I remember) so to get paid for doing something you enjoy is kind of the dream, right?

Plus I’m sure the drivers of Roswell will be very grateful to have someone with two eyes checking their brakes are working correctly. I mean, should Sanders even be fixing cars anymore? I swear he can’t even see three inches in front of his face!

Speaking of work, I was thinking about the Emporium yesterday. Have you been inside recently? I wonder if they ever noticed the alien with its head on backwards. Still definitely your fault by the way.

I kind of miss that uniform too, even the visor. I have to wear my uniform all the time now and it’s nowhere near as comfortable. I feel like it’s becoming a part of me, like I’m never going to be able to go home after a long day and forget about everything for a while, it’s just always going to be there.

I’m sure I’ll get used it.

I think we’re being moved in a couple of weeks so I’ll give you my new address when that happens. But for now, I hope you’re okay.

Speak to you soon,

Alex.

Michael leant his head back and watched as the sun slowly began to set behind the trees.

Alex always knew how to make him feel a million different emotions at once. He felt an unfamiliar sense of pride at the praise Alex had offered but reading the boy’s words about his own work made Michael long to have him back with him, away from all the regimented days and looming risk of danger.

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning though, thinking back to the alien statue standing in the corner of the crop circle exhibit. That had been a good day. And yeah, it was definitely his fault.

He was about to put this latest letter away with the rest when an idea came to him. He grabbed the bag that Isobel had lovingly handed over and pulled out the shoebox that had been squeezed inside amongst the various clothes.

He ran his nail across the tape keeping the box sealed, breaking it easily in a single movement, and took off the lid.

He pulled out the new boots, followed by the scrunched up tissue paper intended to keep them somewhat preserved, until he was left with an empty box. It was a decent size, not too big that it would be a pain to store under the passenger seat and not too small that he would run out of space anytime soon.

He’d been keeping the letters in his glove compartment for now but it didn’t quite feel safe enough for something so precious. But this shoebox was perfect. 

He placed the letter inside before heading to the front of the truck and retrieving the rest, slotting them in neatly and closing the lid to keep them secure.

Tonight he’d sleep thinking about the last day he and Alex had shared in the UFO Emporium and as soon as the sun was up, he’d write his reply.

July 2009

Dear Alex,

You’ll never guess what happened today.

I’ve been working every shift Sanders will give me just to save up some cash and like some crazy act of luck an old airstream got dumped at the junkyard last week. It took some convincing but Sanders actually let me buy it off him!

It’s small and pretty run down but I figured it could be a fun project. I am very good with my hands, as you know.

It’s not as glamorous as a house or anything like that, but at least this way I can move out of my truck and into a place with an actual sink. Plus, I reckon I’m the smart one here. No rent to pay? Less space to clean? It’s perfect.

Do you think you’ll be able to visit Roswell soon? You’re probably working hard, getting your geek on and saving the world, but it’s been a while. A year actually, next month.

No pressure, but I look forward to the day I get to officially invite you inside my new place.

Stay safe out there.

Michael

Michael careful wrote his new address on the back, then sealed the envelope and left it by the door as a reminder to post the next time he was in town.

He hadn’t even started to unpack yet, his first priority being to share his big news. He figured that’s what he would have wanted to do if Alex was in Roswell anyway.

The airstream had been dumped a few days ago and though Michael wasn’t aware how much Sanders had paid the guy for it, he was pretty sure it must have cost more for Sanders than it had for Michael. Which was strange.

Since spending almost every day with Sanders, they had definitely worked up some form of workplace bond to some extent. Although some days, it was a wonder Michael could be bothered to engage in the conversations that were mainly a mix of complaints or disinterested grunts.

He must be rubbing off on the old man though because he had given away the airstream at a bargain.

As soon as he’d agreed it with Old Man Simmons that he could park it at Foster Ranch - along with the offer of earning his keep by working the land - he had brought all of his belongings inside and now the next task was to find a place for everything. There may not be much in the three boxes currently sitting on the bed, but they were his. They were the few things that he had been able to actually buy for himself over the past few years and really call his own.

And now that he had a home to put them in, he wanted to do it perfectly.

It felt bizarre to think about. His home. A place he could finally call his own. A place to cook and wash and sleep, safe from the cold and desert dust. The group homes and fosters parents of the past had never let him decorate his own space but now he had the opportunity to make everything his own.

And he knew exactly where to start. The clothes would go in the closet and the limited toiletries would be given their place in the bathroom. That was all obvious, another decision made for him.

But something he could choose for himself?

He picked up the shoebox and peaked inside. It had gained a few more letters since he had started filling it and they were all piled neatly in order.

Looking around, there were several places it could sit.

On the desk would make it the first thing he’d see coming home. But would therefore be the first thing Isobel and Max would go snooping through when they visited.

The drawers next to the closet would keep it safe but they were just too small for the box.

The closet itself felt too impersonal. Like he was hiding it away from himself as well as everyone else.

His eyes were drawn to the bed - his mind instantly jumping to the thought of him and Alex sharing it together - and then to the overhead compartment above it.

Lifting the latch, it popped open with a click and when Michael slid the box in, it fit perfectly. Safe, sealed and close to him where he would sleep.

Feeling happy about the very important decision, he closed the compartment.

Now, onto the rest.

November 2009

It had been a very quiet morning.

Sanders was away for a few days and he’d banned Michael from working in the junkyard without supervision after a recent accident that had pissed him off. He hadn’t meant for the hammer to hit the window of the Davis’ land rover, honest. He’d been aiming for the toolbox.

He’d get the old man to change his mind soon enough, but in the meantime what better place to spend the morning than in bed.

The recently bought sheets were soft against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling. The box was still tucked away in the cupboard above him, taken out frequently with every new visit from the mailman. It’s not like anyone else ever sent him post.

Alex had been getting very sappy in his letters recently, reminiscing about the previous summer. Though compared to the past year of writing, the days they had actually spent in each other’s company were few and far between.

It was practically the end of the school year when Michael had borrowed Alex’s guitar from the music room. A decision which he would never regret. And though they had barely spoken during their many years at the same school, when Alex had offered him shelter it hadn’t really mattered. They had clicked so instantly that the few months that they did manage to share felt like they spanned an eternity.

A lot of bad things happened that summer, but he’d do anything to go back just to relieve those good days again.

A knock at the door interrupted his daydream. He sat up, confused, and tried to peak through the newspaper taped to the window. He wasn’t expecting visitors and he couldn’t quite make out enough of the shape to work out who it was.

He rolled sleepily out of bed and grabbed yesterday’s pants, hopping the short distance to the door as he tried to yank them up.

Pushing the door open revealed a sight that had Michael’s breath catching in his throat.

The boy in front of him looked different. Gone was the dark eyeliner that used to frame his eyes and the nail varnish that would stand out against his skin. No more septum piercing or earring, and the chain that Michael would play with as they kissed was missing from his neck.

His hair was much shorter and so not him.

But he was here.

Alex was here. Standing in front of him. And Michael hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything? It was like his brain had short-circuited at the mere sight of the one person he’d been longing to see.

“Hi.” Alex nervously broke the silence, playing with the zip of his hoodie between his thumb and forefinger. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this.”

Mind? Did Alex really just ask that? He’d been dreaming of this moment for months now.

He also didn’t really know how to put that into words in his current state of shock, so he did the next best thing. He stepped down onto the dry ground and immediately pulled Alex into his arms. 

Alex took all of a second to reciprocate the hug as he melted against Michael’s chest.

It was cold outside, winter drawing to its peak and showing its first signs of snow, but being in Alex’s arms was the warmest he had felt in a while.

“You’re here.” Michael mumbled against Alex’s shoulder and he felt him chuckle.

“Well, I have a few days leave and I was promised an invite.” Alex replied softly.

Oh god. This was it, the official house warming personally tailored to Alex. And everything was a mess. Turns out getting a new place doesn’t stop old habits from taking hold and barely a week after he moved in there was paperwork all over the desk and clothes strewn across the bathroom floor. It hadn’t exactly gotten better since then.

Michael reluctantly broke the hug, bringing his hands down to gently link with Alex’s.

“It’s a bit of a mess.” He muttered playfully causing Alex to giggle, the enormity of the moment getting too much for him.

“I don’t mind.” 

Nodding to himself, Michael turned and led Alex into the airstream, waiting for the boy to close the door behind him before he spoke. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s…” Alex hesitated, glancing around at the cluttered desk and the half opened drawers and Michael felt so embarrassed. It looked so much worse than he remembered it being before he opened the door two minutes ago.

“I know it’s not much.” He offered grudgingly.

“No it’s…very you.” Alex said, smiling widely as he stepped closer. “I really like it.”

Really? Michael was going to ask. But it only took one look to get lost in Alex’s eyes and all words were suddenly forgotten.

Alex took another step to close the gap between them and slowly leant forward, his eyes not leaving Michael’s lips. Talking could come later, this is what they had really been missing.

It’s their smiles that touched first, excitement rushing through them making them giddy. But then as Michael’s lips parted and Alex leaned closer, it was as though time stood still. They had been waiting for this moment, longing for it for months.

Michael’s stomach fluttered at the familiar feeling of Alex’s hair under his fingertips, the soft lips against his own. He could practically feel Alex reflecting back at him every feeling of want and desperation that had occurred with every new letter and he had to half open his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

However long Alex was home for, Michael planned to make the most of every single second.

May 2010

Michael took another swig of beer as he watched the last rays of light disappear beyond the horizon. He had driven out into the desert hours ago with the strong desire to get so blackout drunk he wouldn’t be able to remember his own name.

He couldn’t do it at the Wild Pony with its many prying eyes and the airstream just felt too small tonight.  So instead, he had parked the truck at a spot that he and Alex used to frequent when they had wanted to be alone.

Alex had taken longer than usual to reply, but Michael understood - between the two of them, Alex’s duty to Uncle Sam would have to take precedence. It just made the warmth that each letter provided that much stronger.

But today’s letter was different and all the wrong feelings had taken root. Fear, sadness, loss. They were swirling around his mind and sitting on his chest and no amount of alcohol seemed to banish them.

Because for the first time since they had begun writing, the return address on the envelope had not read United States, but Afghanistan.

Michael had barely registered Alex’s words during the first read through with his imagination going into overdrive, but taking a deep breath he had sat on the bed and forced himself to focus.

I can’t really give you any details, Alex had said.

I’ll be okay, he was brave enough to promise.

But he couldn’t promise that. Not really. Michael had done his research over the past two years, frantically gathering every measly scrap of information that the search engine could offer. He had seen the number of deaths to come out of every combat zone, read the stories of those whose lives would never be the same again and had the nightmares of every worst possible outcome.

The Air Force doesn’t deploy as long as the Army, but every second that Alex was on war-torn soil increased the risk of him not making it home. It was going to happen at some point, Alex’s first overseas deployment. Michael had just really been hoping for Spain or Turkey. Not this.

He had convinced himself that he would be prepared. That he would be rational and calm and wouldn’t jump to conclusions or freak out. Clearly he was better at lying to himself than he realised.

He didn’t know why he was feeling so sorry for himself. He wasn’t the one being sent halfway across the world to dutifully serve his country. No, Michael was stuck at home, waiting for the outcome.

It was dark now, his mini camping lantern emitting the only glow of light, but he had plenty of beers to keep him going through the night. He’d reply tomorrow - or the day after once his head had cleared. But for now he just wanted to forget everything and let the world fall away.

And maybe if he was inebriated enough it would keep the nightmares at bay. 

August 2010

To anyone who asked, Michael was a stoic twenty year old who didn’t engage in something so pathetic as having emotions.

But to himself, he would reluctantly have to admit they often played a part in many of his life choices. 

Like the big choices that had been fuelled by pain and confusion, standing in the middle of the desert with his two remaining family members standing by. Or the smaller choices made in the dead of night encouraged by a sappy romantic notion he had witnessed in one of Isobel’s romcoms.

Small, but no less important.

Like the decision to fill a shoebox with dried petals to help rid it of the musty smell that often accompanied any container that had been closed for too long.

He dedicated an entire day to researching flowers, finding out how to preserve them and which ones gave off the best scent.

Hydrangeas were a strong contender. Their pastel hues of purple and blue would add a nice drop of colour to the box and they were one of the easiest flowers to preserve. But they would last less than a year and Michael didn’t want to run the risk of the petals flaking into a hundred pieces and ruining the box.

Chrysanthemums were next on the list. The drying method seemed simple enough and though the petals were fairly small, they came in a whole host of vibrant colours. They were also the official flower for mother’s day in Australia and though the country itself meant nothing to him, it would give the petals a bittersweet double meaning. A way of keeping two separate loves alive alongside each other. Everything about them seemed perfect and several nearby florists even had them in stock ready for him to collect that day but when he stumbled upon a website stating that they also symbolised death they were instantly scratched off the list.

Pansies or larkspurs or little cuttings of lavender were all possibilities but they just didn’t feel right.

He didn’t want to become a stereotypical old romantic but his mind kept wandering to the roses. The elegant petals would sit nicely atop the letters and the sweet, fresh scent would be a pleasant addition to the box. Their frequent association with all things love and romance fell alongside the lesser known connotation of secrecy and confidentiality, words that all seemed to sum up the box completely.

The drying process would take time but it would be time well spent. Not to mention the intricate symbolism linked with each soft colour would add an extra touch to the box.

Red was a given with its instant connection to love.

Pink meant grace and gratitude and though he most certainly lacked one, he was definitely filled with the other. Every letter that arrived at his door was further proof that Alex was still alive and as long as they kept coming he would be eternally grateful.

Oranges roses were the symbol of passion and enthusiasm and while you could definitely use both of those words in relation to the last time he had seen Alex, the letters felt more innocent than that.

That didn’t necessarily mean that white roses were the way to go though, with their implication of innocence and purity. Not even he could kid himself that much.

With his mind made up, he grabbed his hat and headed out to engage in a spot of criminal activity.

Was it technically a crime though to cut someone else’s flowers? I mean how could Mrs Wilson really own her rose bushes when they belonged to Mother Nature first.

He wouldn’t have even thought about taking someone else’s, but the internet had very clearly specified that home grown roses were much better than shop bought flowers and who was he to argue with that?

It was mid-morning on a Wednesday so no one was around to see him attack the hedge with some clippers. It would have been a lot easier to literally be a thief in the night, but roses were best picked before the midday sun had a chance to warm their delicate petals. Any later in the day and they would lose their fragrance, so daylight robbery was the way to go.

He snipped at the branches, grumbling as his fingers caught the sharp thorns protruding from the stems, and once he had retrieved the optimum amount of red and pink flowers he headed back to the airstream to begin the lengthy drying process.

It would take a few days but the outcome would be worth it.

February 2011

The sight of one man should not leave Michael freezing in his tracks. He was an alien for God's sake. A superior species with actual powers.

Who the hell was Jesse Manes compared to that? An old man with a limited wardrobe and receding hairline? A divorced father of four kids who hated him? A nameless soldier overshadowed by his peers?

No, Jesse Manes was a respected member of the community, known and loved by all. A loyal airman with several commendations under his belt. An intimidating man prepared to brutally disfigure the hand of a child and easily get away with it.

Why Alex would choose to follow in his footsteps he would never understand.

Michael hadn’t seen Alex’s father since the night in the toolshed. The night he ruined what, up until that point, had been a perfect day. And he destroyed so much more than Michael’s hand that night. He destroyed the memory of his and Alex’s first time together, the possibility of him using a guitar to quiet the world around him, the opportunity for a roof over his head.

He had destroyed the chance for Michael to heal and move on and gain some faith back in humanity.

And three years later, here he was across the street from Michael’s truck, sitting at the window of the Crashdown, keeping Michael frozen to his seat.

He was supposed to be meeting Max for lunch in ten minutes, but there was no way he could go inside now.

Maybe Alex’s father wouldn’t even remember him. He had only seen him one time, several years ago. He couldn’t possibly have committed Michael’s face to memory in the three minutes they had shared a space together. But then again, Michael couldn’t imagine he went around hitting kids with hammers all that often so maybe it had been a memorable night for him. 

Whether it had had impact on Jesse Manes or not, Michael still remembered it vividly.

The way the door slammed open and Alex flinched away from his touch. The quiver in Alex’s voice as Manes picked up the hammer. The sight of Alex whimpering as his father’s hand squeezed around his throat. The pain filled shout Michael could barely make out over the sound of his own bones cracking.

In shock and in agony, he vaguely recalls being thrown out of the shed and staggering to his truck, but admittedly that part was still blurry.

To this day though, he still didn’t know what happened to Alex once he’d gone. They had never really talked about that night, not properly at least. Alex had been very eager to check how his hand was healing or offer to take him to a doctor, but always reluctant to discuss what he’d endured.

In all honesty, Michael still didn’t know if Jesse had done anything to Alex but it was always his suspicion. He’d recognised the fury in the older man’s eyes to know that that anger needed an outlet and Michael’s hand probably hadn’t been enough.

His hand ached suddenly at the memory and he clenched it hard in a useless attempt to make it stop. It had been hurting a lot lately, seizing up and making it impossible to do anything.

Max had offered to heal it a number of times but he still refused. He’d tell himself that it was because of Alex. How would he explain a perfectly healed hand to the guy who had witnessed the brutality it had suffered?

But if he ever decided to admit the truth to himself, he’d accept that really it was all for self preservation. A constant reminder moulded under his skin of what humans were really like. A way of reminding him not to get too close to people, not to let them into his life.

Clearly, Alex was the exception to this rule and Michael honestly couldn’t explain why. Right from the start their connection had just been something else. Something unexplainable.

Feeling the panic starting to bubble in his chest, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He could text Max. The I’m held up at the junkyard excuse would keep him busy long enough for the police officer’s lunch break to end. He could dodge the bullet completely that way and just make it up to him tomorrow.

Or would that be like letting Jesse Manes win? What would he even be winning? There was no way that man remembered who Michael was.

Looking over to the window again, he watched as Alex’s father handed something to the waitress.

Was he really going to let his past trauma dictate where he could have lunch?

At the moment? Yes.

Sliding his phone out of his front pocket, he unlocked it quickly and opened the messenger app, his thumb hovering over Max’s name but then he had an idea.

He clicked on the little notepad icon and began to type.

Alex’s latest letter arrived last week and was still awaiting a reply and what better time to write one than when you’re freaking out slightly at the sight of a man who had once attacked you.

He barely noticed the autocorrect working hard to fix his many mistakes, he just needed to get the words out.

He didn’t mention Jesse, deciding to steer clear of the man entirely and focus on the positives instead. Alex was free from his father’s harsh rules and strict parenting for the time being so there was no point wasting his words on a man he most likely didn’t want to hear about.

It was overly sentimental and he’d probably edit it massively before writing it up, but for now he impulsively typed up everything he wanted to say. Everything he would say if Alex was sitting next to him right now.

 Dear Alex,

Glad to see that you’re stateside again, it stressed me out every day you were overseas.

I’m really happy that you’ve settled in with the work you’re doing and I’ve almost come to terms with the fact that your job is going to be dangerous at times, but that still doesn’t stop me worrying about it. And even after all this time you’ve been away, it’s still weird to not have you here. 

Everything has been reminding me of you recently, which is both beautiful and horrible because at least you’re here when you’re not here. But you’re not here and I really wish you were. Like when a song by that band you like comes on the radio, or if I walk past the Emporium, or I order a milkshake at the Crashdown or even just seeing Maria at the Wild Pony.

Max was telling me the other day about this kid who reported his guitar stolen and I couldn’t help but think back to when I stole yours. Well, I say stole, I promise I really was just borrowing it. I knew it was yours though and part of me definitely wanted you to find out that I had taken it, anything to get you to notice me. The offer of somewhere to sleep was completely unexpected though and proves just what a good person you are. I took your belongings and in return you gave me shelter and I don’t think I thanked you enough for that.

You’re in every corner of this town for me Alex and I know we didn’t have long but the time that we spent together before you left were some of the best days of my life.

I miss you.

Come back soon.

Michael

As he reached the last sentence, a knock on the passenger side window made him jump.

Max, in his uniform and hat, lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave and tilted his head towards the Crashdown as if to say are you coming?

A quick final glance through the window showed no sign of Jesse Manes and Michael slowly let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

September 2011

“This is a good look for you.” Michael whispered.

“What, naked?” Alex smiled softly, peering sleepily back at him. 

Michael began to lightly trail his hand down Alex’s chest, watching Alex close his eyes at the sensation. “Naked. In my bed.”

Alex had shown up at his doorstep late last night, this time with some warning in his latest letter, and they hadn’t wasted any time. So fuelled with longing and desire, Michael couldn’t remember a second of last night where their bodies hadn’t been touching.

Looking at Alex now, with his perfect bed head and sun kissed skin, Michael wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let him leave.

He did have something important to talk to Alex about though. Something they had never really discussed that had been leaving Michael feeling very confused lately. He was twenty-one years old having the awkward teenage thought of are we together or is this just a bit of fun? Is this guy my boyfriend? Can I even say the word boyfriend without freaking him out?

“There was something I meant to talk to you about last night-” He began, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Did we actually talk at all last night?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” Alex smiled, holding his lip between his teeth. “Go on, what did you want to say?”

“You know I do have a phone, right? An actual expensive one and everything thanks to Isobel buying it for me. So you can text me, instead of spending weeks waiting for a reply.”

Alex paused for a moment. How was it best to tell Michael without looking weak? How during Basic Training one nosy guy thought it would be fun to take his unlocked phone and look through his messages. How he was terrified of being outed that day and that fear had followed him through his few years of serving. How even though his letters are technically much easier to read, the lock on the box they were kept in is so thick you would need to have a bolt cutter handy to break it. Or the key, which was kept in a very secure location.

“There’s something more…personal, about writing a letter. ” He decided to go with. “Besides, phones can get hacked.” 

“Who the hell is gonna want to hack into your phone?”

Alex shrugged with a smirk, “I’m just saying, after learning what I have in training, hacking your phone right now would be a piece of cake.”

“Right, and these hackers would want to, what? Use all our discussions about broken alien statues and nights out in the desert against us.”

“There are some terrible people out there.” The fake sincerity in Alex’s eyes as he nodded his head made Michael chuckle.

Alex pushed himself up fully in the bed, letting the sheets pool around his naked hips. He leant forward and Michael didn’t need to be asked twice to drop the subject and meet him halfway. As much as he loved last night, their slow morning kisses were even better. Soft and all smiles, filled with the gratitude that they were still sharing this moment together.

“I’m sorry I was late last night, the move this week has been busier than I expected.” Alex whispered between pecks.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you made it. Where are you based now?”

“Maryland. Probably just for a month or so though until I get more permanent orders.”

Leaning back, Michael could see the weariness in Alex’s eyes. He knew that being in the military was a hard job - even harder if you had been forced into it - and Michael hated just how much responsibility had been put on Alex’s young shoulders.

His eyes twinkled as he got an idea, a way of lightening Alex’s load for a few hours. “You fancy going out tonight?” 

Alex’s face dropped and Michael’s heart along with it. “Like, together?”

“No, I figured we’d go to different bars and get drunk separately.” Michael replied sarcastically. 

This is not what he had expected. Alex saying no to a night out? Fine, not a problem, wouldn’t have been that surprising of an answer. Maybe he doesn’t fancy a drink, maybe he’s just not into partying anymore.

But was Alex saying no to them going out together?

“Is it because of me?” Michael could hear the anger beginning to grow in his tone but he couldn’t help it. This conversation had flipped completely out of nowhere. “When I told you about the whole drunk cowboy reputation I’ve gained, it was meant to make you laugh. Not make you ashamed of me.”

“I’m not ashamed!” Alex defensively shook his head.

“Then what is it? Cos I like doing this Alex, but I need to know what it is that we’re actually doing, where we’re going with it. Are we going anywhere with it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Guerin! Things are complicated right now.”

I want you to say you want to be with me! I want you to tell me you love me as much as I love you! Michael hadn’t expected for this to turn into an argument, but he was prepared to cause one if it meant getting answers.

But as he took a breath, he looked at Alex. Like properly looked at him. He had grown up so much since they’d last seen each other. He’d changed so much. But for the first time he was the one who was looking unsure about what to say.

The defensive hunch of his shoulders, the nervous look in his eyes. It reminded Michael so much of when Alex had first told him he was leaving. And those goddamn hubcaps.

This was the second time he had caused that look in Alex’s eyes and if he never saw it again it would be too soon. He still had a few days before Alex was going to leave him again and he should be making the most of them instead of pushing him away.

If Alex was unsure of what they were doing then so be it. They would have to discuss it at some point this weekend, for Michael’s own sanity more than anything, but for now he would have to let it go if it meant keeping Alex happy.

January 2012

Earth wasn’t his home.

He knew that. He’s known that since he woke up in a glowing alien pod. But it’s only through life’s lessons over the years that he’s really learnt that.

He didn’t belong here, with an inferior species that enjoyed hurting others simply because of who they were. He’d seen it happen in shops and on the street. People targeted for being different. It was such a human response and he shuddered at the thought of what it meant for them if their secret ever came out.

And who was keeping him here? Max and Isobel? Alex?

Him and Isobel were close, but she had her own life. Parents that loved her, a boyfriend she was besotted with. She didn’t need Michael hanging around, bringing her down.

His feelings on Max were like a sliding scale of rage. The other man had been acting like his father for most of his life, telling him what to do and how to live. Max says they should cover up Rosa’s death. Max says they should keep what they are a secret. Max, with his fancy job and respected standing in society. Michael didn’t need his help anymore or his pity.

And then there was Alex. The boy who made him believe there was a place for him on Earth. But now, Michael wasn’t so sure.The last time he had seen Alex in person, things hadn’t ended that great and though they’ve still been writing to each other, something had definitely changed. They had changed.

Michael reminded himself of all this as he climbed down the stairs into the junkyard’s fallout shelter.

He had discovered the hidden bunker one day after slipping away from Sanders during work hours to hunt for some more copper wire. The opening had been covered by a beaten up truck that had been sitting in the junkyard for years, he wasn’t sure if the old man even knew it was down there.

From that day on he had claimed it as his own, making sure it was covered every time he left.

His collection had started off small. A few legit pieces of alien artefact that he had stolen from the Emporium and the odd dark web purchase, but after a few stealthy ventures to the UFO crash site he had begun to discover even more fragments. Considering the people of Roswell had been obsessing over the crash since 1947, Michael was honestly surprised that not every piece of the ship had been excavated already.

Luckily for him, his latest night time search in the desert had proven successful and he had made it back to the bunker with two small glowing pieces.

Building up the secret bunker’s workshop had taken time and a few stolen supplies, but now there were tools and shelves and bulbs in the mismatched lighting decor that had thankfully already been installed.

Littering the worktops were sketches and blueprints of the measurements and calculations he had spent months working on. There were spools of tubing and a portable generator sitting on the shelf. But his prized possession resting on one of the tables was his slowly forming alien spaceship. He was pretty sure what he was building was the console, but maybe one day it would turn into the entire spacecraft.

Covered in alien symbols and shimmering to the touch, it could be his way off of this stupid planet.

Michael gently took the pieces out of his pocket and held them close to the ship. One did nothing, staying stubbornly in his palm, but the other rose into the air and delicately travelled to one of the broken sides, a faint blue glistening the surface as the sharp edges knitted together like they had never been broken. 

Placing the remaining piece on the table, Michael sighed. One day he would find all the pieces and finish this. And when that day came, there would be nothing to keep him here.

October 2012

“You’re staying whether you like it or not.” Isobel gave him a pointed look as she rummaged through the crates of decorations piled on the table in front of her. 

“Yeah Michael, it’ll be fun.” Max said enthusiastically, holding a fist under his chin and batting his eyelids. A move they had both seen Isobel pull several times when mocking her mother. 

She smacked Max on the arm, furious that he would belittle all of her hard work, before shoving a large plastic box into his chest. “The crop circle exhibit needs more bats.”

Her brother took the box with an exaggerated sigh but obliged nevertheless. He had learnt long ago that when Isobel was running things you either got on with it or got the hell out of her way. 

With one brother now busy, she moved onto the next. “Right, there’s a few banners that need putting up and then you can go get changed.”

Her demand was met with silence which worried Isobel greatly and when she glanced up from her checklist, she didn’t appreciate the confused look in Michael’s eyes. “Please tell me you have a costume. It’s Halloween Michael!”

“I didn’t exactly plan on staying, Isobel!” he retaliated. He’d been asked to come and fix the glitchy projector in the knock-off Men In Black room, not spend all night with a bunch of people he didn’t know, surrounded by dumb gimmicky aliens. “Why did you choose to have it here anyway? Isn’t it a bit degrading to us as a species?” 

“I didn’t choose it. The Emporium wanted a Halloween event and I’m just part of the committee running it.” She ticked off another item on her list, not rising to his provocation. “Now, go help Max.”

Accepting an easy defeat, Michael took the closest pile of decorations and headed to the exhibit. There were several people milling around each room of the Emporium, all engaged in one task or another. A group of middle aged women were rigorously dusting the artefact cabinets and two guys he vaguely recognised from around town were fixing lighting rigs to the ceiling. 

His heart skipped a beat as he reached the UFO room, his eyes drawn immediately to the spot where he and Alex shared their first kiss. He had been so nervous that day, tentatively grabbing the other boy’s face before he could talk himself out of it, praying that Alex wouldn’t pull away.

Through the red fabric curtains at the back of the room was the crop circle exhibit. It was completely empty of people save for Max attempting to loop a small fuzzy bat around one of the hanging lights.

Taking pity on him, Michael willed the creature to float the extra few inches and fasten itself around the wire. It had been a while since he’d used his powers in a public setting and it gave him such a rush to get away with it unseen. It was quite embarrassing really. It’s not like he was committing a crime in the middle of a police station. Unless you were looking closely, the fact that some objects floated when he was nearby was actually surprisingly easy to miss.

Max’s head immediately whipped round, eyes wide with trepidation. “Dude, what if someone walks in?”

“Chill, Deputy. We’re safe.” Michael rolled his eyes as he began to stroll around the room. He hadn’t been in here since Alex’s last day and literally nothing had changed. I mean, fair enough, there hadn’t exactly been any more alien encounters since then to add to the exhibition. But they could have put some effort in and switched things up a bit.

As he turned to speak to Max his foot caught something, but without hesitation his telekinesis acted fast to catch the alien statue mid-fall. Settling it back on its two feet with his mind, Michael chuckled to himself as he realised exactly what it was that he had knocked over. Turns out the little guy did still have his head on backwards.

It had been four years since Alex’s last day working the ticket booth, when they had sneaked inside during his lunch break to passionately kiss in the dark corners of the museum. If Michael hadn’t been so distracted that day he would have caught the alien before it had a chance to decapitate itself and ruin his make out session.

They had frantically tried to re-attach it, getting their fingers covered in the glue. But alas, as an excitable eighteen year old, Michael had been too focused on the boy he was with to notice he was putting the head on backwards.

Four years and nobody had dealt with the owl impersonating alien. The Emporium really was going downhill.

“You know, if you don’t want to stay I’ll cover for you with her majesty.” Max interrupted his thoughts as he took a banner from the pile still bunched in Michael’s arms and surveyed the room to decide where best to hang it.

“Nah, it’s alright. Can’t leave you without a wingman, can I?” Michael playfully raised an eyebrow as he dumped the pile on the floor and grabbed the other end of the banner.

“I’m serious Michael. You don’t actually have to do as she says you know.” Max grinned at him, hooking his side onto one of the picture frames hanging on the wall and watching Michael do the same.

Michael looked over at his friend. When the day began he had planned to end it in the airstream, drunk on whiskey and in bed with a beautiful stranger. But standing in front of him was his chance to do something different for a change, to spend some time with the only family he had left and maybe even remember it all in the morning.

“I know. But maybe you’re right. It could be fun.”

March 2013

So it was letters like these that made Michael feel guilty about how he’d been spending his time. Or more specifically who he’d been spending his time with.

For the first time in years he could go entire weeks without thinking of Alex once and the odd drunken hookup definitely helped to keep his mind off the boy who barely wrote to him anymore.

It had become a recurring thing for him, much to the chagrin of Isobel who vehemently disapproved of his life choices. She couldn’t understand why Michael wouldn’t want to find someone special and settle down with them. But he wouldn’t expect any less from the girl who was so head over heels in love with her boyfriend.

Isobel had Noah, and Michael?

Michael had Vicky. Last night.

They met at the Pony, as these stories often started for him, and had enjoyed a very long, very sensual night together within the small confines of the airstream.

She made him coffee in the morning, engaged in an appropriate amount of small talk, then left. A perfect night by all accounts, so why couldn’t the rest of his day be perfect too?

When the mailman loudly interrupted his work on his latest batch of sketches he had been tempted not to answer. When he immediately recognised Alex’s handwriting on the front of the envelope he had been very tempted not to open it.

One day he would stop giving in to his feelings for Alex. Today was not that day.

Dear Michael,

I saw someone die today.

I feel kind of numb right now which doesn’t seem right to me, but it’s like I can’t tell what emotion I should be feeling, so I’m just hoping that getting the words onto paper might help get them out of my head.

I don’t know whether I’m supposed to have been prepared for it or not, I mean it’s an occupational hazard that I signed up for so I should be fine, right? I’ve been in Iraq for almost two months now, on my second deployment, and yet this is the first time I’ve actually seen someone get killed right in front of me. So does that make me lucky to have gone this long without it happening?

I could have saved him. If I had just been closer, if I had gotten there quicker, he probably wouldn’t have died. But then if I was closer I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now so I guess I am the lucky one.

I hadn’t known him long but he was a good kid, always hard at work, always looking out for everyone. He was younger than me.

The guys are so quiet. Nobody knows what to do with themselves and this bit I’m strangely used to. It’s not the first time someone I know has been killed and things can’t come to a stop while we’re out here no matter the circumstances. But for a short while after something like this happens it’s like the light inside of everyone just disappears. Like we’re reminded all over again of how quickly things can change here.

We’ll be okay though, we’ll pick each other up and move on. But we’ll never forget him.

They’ll never forget his service. And I’ll never forget what I saw.

I’m sorry, it’s selfish to burden you with this but I just really needed to tell someone.

Hope everything is okay in Roswell.

Stay safe,

Alex.

And just like that Michael was drawn back into the little Alex loving bubble he had been desperately trying to pop.

Stay safe. He writes an entire letter about seeing someone die and he tells Michael to stay safe. And if that didn’t sum up Alex he didn’t know what did. Always trying to look out for other people, even if it hurts him.

Michael re-read the line about being quicker, being closer and something tightens in his chest. He could still remember how guilty Alex had felt after the incident in the toolshed all those years ago, so Michael knew exactly how much Alex would be putting his colleague’s death on his shoulders right now. And if he had been close enough to help, Michael was well aware of how willingly he would have sacrificed himself to keep his teammates safe.

He didn’t even know that Alex was in Iraq. Their communication had slowed so much recently and this entire time Michael had chalked it up to him no longer wanting to keep in contact but maybe this was why he hadn’t been writing.

It reminded him yet again of how little he really knew about Alex’s job and the things he had to face. As much as he would love it, he could hardly expect constant letters with updates of every little part of Alex’s life.

But he could support him. From the safety of his airstream where there were no bullets flying and people dying around him, he could listen to what Alex had to say no matter how long it took to arrive.

His sleeping around had been a poor attempt of cleansing Alex and the war he was fighting from his mind, but Alex would never get that luxury. Not until he was out of the Air Force and back home at least.

The fear of Alex dying was at the forefront of his thoughts once more, but maybe it was a good thing - the kind of fear that propels you forward and gives you hope that things will change. Habits were hard to break but maybe he would take Isobel’s advice and wait for his someone special to make it home.

August 2013

Friday night at the Wild Pony brought out all manner of locals. Friends reuniting after being away for months, married couples taking the time to cool off after a long week at work, the happy drunks, the racist drunks, and already at the bar being served his first drink of the evening, the lonely cowboy.

Max’s shift didn’t end for another hour, but Michael figured there wouldn’t be any harm in getting to the Pony early. He had a higher tolerance than Max anyway so it was better to get a head start.

As he was lifting his first alcohol filled glass to his lips he heard the voice of someone he hadn’t seen in five years. He barely suppressed a groan as he sneaked a glimpse to his left.

“More tequila’s please, Maria.” The man’s voice dripped with confidence.

Michael watched as he placed a tray of empty shot glasses on the bar top before leaning forward, his forearms dropping heavily onto the wood.

Maria took the tray with a smile and got to work.

“Guerin. Still in Roswell, I see.” He said casually, turning to look at Michael. 

“Valenti. Still a dick, I see.” Michael replied, giving his best fake smile.

Kyle’s brow furrowed in surprise at the attitude being directed towards him. He must have remembered Michael’s reputation from school, but he clearly hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of it half a decade later.

“How have you been?” He continued regardless, somewhat optimistic in the face of Michael’s pre-drunk demeanour. Maria unscrewed the bottle cap and Michael could see her watching them carefully as if they were the main feature of her Wild Pony nature documentary.

“Since when do you care?” Michael remarked tightly, smile still plastered on his face and when Kyle scoffed and looked away, Michael was almost disappointed. The guy from high school would have had him on his ass by now.

“Whatever.” Kyle muttered just as Maria filled the last glass. He slapped some money onto the bar, sliding it forward to meet Maria’s waiting hand and she took it gratefully, put it straight in the till.

“See you around.” He spoke to no-one in particular before leaving with the tray, though not fast enough in Michael’s opinion.

Maria rolled her eyes as she put the tequila bottle back on the shelf. “What did Kyle ever do to you?”

“Do you not remember him in high school?” Michael asked, glancing over his shoulder at where Kyle was handing out the shot glasses round the table. It wasn’t a surprise to see that he was still Mr Popular with the big group of friends.

“Oh no, I remember him. I just don’t remember you ever talking to him.”

“Didn’t have to talk to him to know he was an asshole.” Michael muttered as he downed the last of his drink.

He’d witness enough of his taunting to know exactly what kind of person Kyle Valenti was. He was the cliche jock surrounded by a constant posse of football players, using his popularity to get away with bullying innocent kids.

Nerdy kids whose fear of authority and eagerness to please everyone would be taken advantage of.

Poor kids whose worn down shoes and too small clothes would be an instant target on their backs.

Gay kids who did absolutely nothing to deserve the brunt of Kyle’s torment for so many years. Gay kids who could also pack a mean punch when it really came down to it. 

Kyle had made it his mission in high school to ruin Alex’s life and Michael would never forgive him for it. Simple as that.

“What is he even doing here anyway?”

Maria picked up the closest bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed at how well she knew his drinking habits.

“He’s been travelling to visit family but now he’s back for a few weeks to see some friends before his next year of med school starts.” Maria answered easily, letting out a huff of laughter as Michael narrowed his eyes in confusion. “When you’re this side of the bar, people tell you everything…like I’m sure you’ll be doing soon enough.”

Michael smirked as he took another swig of whiskey. It burned in his chest before settling uneasily in his stomach. “You love it Deluca, don’t try and deny it.”

Taking another look behind him, Michael watched as Kyle spoke, gesturing wildly with his arms as his words held the attention of everyone circled around him. He looked no different from high school, same dark quiff styled neatly with gel, same bulging muscles on show under his tight fitting top, same punchable face.

Watching Alex take a swing at Kyle during prom had been a very proud moment for Michael - and he had barely even known Alex by that point. If he hadn’t been worried that Alex would get hurt, Michael would have gladly watched him punch Kyle for the rest of the evening.

“I think he’s changed, you know.” Maria interrupted his thoughts as she wiped down the bar top in front of him. Her bracelets jangled noisily with every movement. “College has been good for him.”

Michael watched as she ran her necklace between her fingers and went about collecting the empty beer bottles sitting at the end of the bar. “Kyle Valenti will never change.” 

Deep down a tiny part of him would admit that Maria was right. Since leaving high school everyone he’s known has changed in some way or another - normally for the better as they grow out of their ignorant, childish ways. But he just couldn’t imagine golden boy Kyle Valenti turning his life around that much. And even though one day Alex, with his heart of gold, will probably end up forgiving Kyle, Michael never would.

June 2014

“I’m just saying, if Noah expects me to take it easy with this wedding organisation, he’s got another thing coming.” Isobel spoke animatedly as the three of them walked down the street. “I am practically the unofficial Roswell party planning committee after all.”

“Isn’t a committee normally a group of people?” Max quizzed, moving out of the way for a little boy on his bike that was riding towards them.

“Not what you’re supposed to be taking from this conversation, Max.” Isobel glared at him. “I got proposed to guys!”

“Yeah, we got that from the first fifty times you told us.” Michael remarked, righting the cowboy hat that had slipped down on his head.

“Well, I’m allowed to be excited!”

Max gave his sister a fond smile. “Of course you are. But I think any more wedding talk today will literally melt Michael’s brain.”

It had been over a week since Noah had gotten down on one knee and Max and Michael had heard every possible recounting of the evening along with every guest list suggestion, every wedding hairstyle idea, even every floral arrangement possibility. As a couple, they had barely had a chance to set a date, yet Isobel was now firmly stuck in wedding planner mode.

It was Max who had put forward that the three of them meet up. It was his first day off after a busy week of shifts and it was warm out, though the suggestion to make the most of the sun was also a ploy to force Isobel to take a break from her obsessing. But unfortunately the wedding seemed to have followed them.

It didn’t really bother them though as they strolled through town, soaking up the warmth of the rays and enjoying each other’s company. Isobel was happy and in love and it was exactly what she deserved.

As they neared the end of the road, they reached the Crashdown. The cafe was a hubbub of happy, smiling customers and servers in their uniforms and antennae, but it was hard to miss the derogatory, racist words spray painted across the windows. Michael didn’t envy the poor waiter who was desperately scrubbing at them with soapy water.

Every year on the anniversary of Rosa Ortecho’s death the Crashdown was vandalised and every year it hurt more and more to witness.

Arturo Ortecho didn’t deserve the hate he got because of what happened to his daughter. He didn’t deserve for his livelihood, his home to be wrecked every year because of a choice Isobel made. A choice they all made.

After the fateful night six years ago, they had sworn to each other they would not set foot in the Crashdown again, to separate themselves from the Ortecho’s completely. But over the years, whether it be from guilt or concern, they had never been able to keep that promise.

“Let’s go in,” Max said after a moment of staring inside.

“Max-” Michael warned. He was all for keeping up appearances but today of all days they ought to be keeping a low profile when it came to the Crashdown.

“We should show our support. It’s the least we can do.” Max turned to look at him pointedly. And as much as Michael hated it, he was right. They had managed to keep the events of that night a secret for so long now. Avoiding the place once a year wasn’t really going to have as big an impact as they liked to think it would.

And being the cause of Mr Ortecho’s suffering, it was the least they could do.

Entering with a smile, they found a booth in the corner and Michael was made designated ‘seat saver’ as Max and Isobel went up to the counter. They all knew each other’s orders off by heart, but neither sibling wanted to run the risk of potentially running into Arturo alone for fear of not knowing what to say.

Michael watched as the waiter outside finished with one window and moved onto the next.

He was lucky in a way. He could go months without thinking about what they chose to do to those three girls. How they covered up the murders and framed an innocent for it. He doubted Arturo ever had the pleasure of forgetting about the death of his eldest daughter.

And now, as he tried to forget once more about certain events of that night, his mind was drawn to the other life changing incident and his worry for Alex reignited all over again. He had been able to protect Alex from his father back then, but whilst they were on two separate continents, Michael was powerless.

Not that he thought Alex needed his protection. Michael knew just how strong he was, but the job of an airman was unpredictable.

In an attempt to calm his mind, he thought back to the letter he had received yesterday and tried to recall the words it contained.

Dear Michael,

I can’t believe you managed to find work on Mr Anderson’s ranch! Or more specifically, I can’t believe he willingly hired you after the amount of trouble you caused him. I’m guessing you didn’t tell him that it was you that drove straight through his crop field or let all those horses out when we were younger? Because you know as well as I do, that man holds a grudge.

I’m glad you’re finding all this work. I used to worry that you wouldn’t realise how skilled you were so it’s nice to hear that people are actually appreciating your hard work.

I’ve spent the past week updating security measures here and the all-nighters are reminding me of high school before a math test or something. I think I actually used to go days without sleeping sometimes if I was trying to cram in revision and I honestly don’t know how I managed it back then. Teenage me was obviously a lot stronger.

There’s rumours that we could be heading back to North Dakota next month, but I’m not getting my hopes up. Germany’s not too bad, the people have been great and the food is delicious. On our down days we’ve been going to this cafe just outside of base. They have this type of iced coffee that tastes amazing and I’ve definitely had it far too much judging by the amount of teasing I get from my team every time I order it.

As nice as it is here though, it would be good to be back on home soil. I feel like I’ve been away from America for so long.

I’ll let you know if we do end up moving bases and maybe I’ll visit Roswell again soon.

Hope you’re okay.

From,

Alex.

Michael was pulled out of his thoughts as Max and Isobel took their seats. They were bickering about something or other and the familiarity forced all his worries to the back of his mind.

Alex would be home soon and Michael would be able to hold him in his arms and everything would be alright. And for now, he would make the most of his time with the rest of his family.

October 2014

Michael was warming himself by the fire when a car pulled up by the airstream. He had managed to find the old burn barrel at the junkyard a few months ago along with some mismatched chairs and lighting the fire had become a calming night time occurrence for him.

He brought the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip, wordlessly watching as Alex stepped out of the car and wandered over to him. He wasn’t sure why Alex was even here. The letters had been getting infrequent again, the enthusiasm dwindling, and Michael had been starting to suspect that their hearts were just no longer in it.

Alex had informed him that he was on leave for a few days and Michael had been happy, excited even. But at some point between this morning - where he had been frantically trying to calm his nerves as he tided up the place - to this evening, something had changed. He’d managed to overthink everything he’d been wanting to say to Alex for a long time now.

“Hey.” Alex smiled politely as he came to a stop by the fire. If he thought it strange that Michael hadn’t greeted him he didn’t mention it, but he did pause, hands clasped behind his back, almost waiting for permission to take a seat.

Michael took another gulp of beer, watching Alex carefully. “You can sit down you know.”

Alex didn’t need to be told twice, dropping into the seat closest to him. He looked older, the years of service catching up on him, hardening him against all that he had seen. 

“How have you been?” He asked. His voice was calm but Michael could see the wariness in his eyes. So he had noticed Michael’s rather frosty welcoming.

“Same as always.” Michael muttered, looking off into the distance.

“Are you okay-”

“What are you doing here, Alex?” Michael blurted out before he lost the nerve.

Alex’s eyes widened at the outburst, “Sorry, I thought you said I could drop by when I got back.”

“Okay fine, what are we doing here?” Michael rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, “I mean this thing we’re doing, is it real or just some hookup for when you come home?”

Alex recoiled at the accusation and Michael could feel the guilt creeping in once more at the hurt in Alex’s eyes. Okay so maybe that was a bit harsh, but there was no point dragging out this conversation for the next three days. Plus, he suspected his veins were filled more of alcohol than blood right now and when he was on a roll there was no stopping him.

“Last time you were here I tried to have this conversation with you and we got nowhere. That was years ago and we’re still dancing around it.”

“You know it’s not like that. The sex I mean. I don’t come here just to sleep with you, I come to see you.” The fire crackled loudly, the flames casting an orange glow over Alex as he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much lately. Your letters mean everything to me and I like doing this with you, but I just…”

“Just what?” Michael demanded. He could see Alex take a breath as he tried to word the next sentence correctly in his head.

“Anything could happen while I’m in the Air Force and I just don’t think you should pin your hopes on this.”

If Michael could stop with the tunnel vision for two seconds he would realise that Alex was trying to protect him, but all he heard was that Alex didn’t want to be with him, not properly at least. Not as his boyfriend, his partner, his other half.

Michael didn’t have an answer and Alex had no more to add.

They had barely spent five minutes in each other’s company after years apart and they’d already been rendered quiet. It isn’t how either of them had expected it to go. They sat in the uncomfortable silence, their gazes fixed on the fire but barely registering the flames licking the air. Neither wanted to make the first move.

The beautiful boy he had been in love with since they were seventeen had practically just told him that they would never be together and instead of feeling sad or desperate, Michael fell back to his default emotion. He was filled with so much anger he could practically feel it burning under his skin.

The moment he kissed Alex in the museum all those years ago he had seen the future they could have together, but now, in the cool autumn evening as he watched the tips of the flames reaching up to the sky, that dream was crumbling.

“Do you want me to go?” Alex asked faintly after a few minutes.

Yes! If you walk away now then I’ll have my final answer and it will make all of this so much easier.

“No.”

Alex had only just gotten there and as pissed off as Michael felt, the thought of him leaving again suddenly hurt like hell. “I miss you.” He whispered, struggling to make eye contact at the admission.

In his peripheral vision he could see Alex pause uneasily, almost waiting for another outburst, and when none came the airman replied with a wary smile. “Me too.”

May 2015

Another soda can went flying into the air and Max shot it down with trained precision. It almost hit Isobel on the way down who couldn’t hold back a squeal as she moved out of the way.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here for this.” She huffed at the boys as she righted herself in the chair. Her plans for the weekend had involved shopping, TV and sleeping. It had been a long week and it was what she deserved. Instead, she was getting sand in her shoes and cans flung towards her face.

“You’re the one who said we should practice using our powers more.” Michael smirked, concentrating on the unopened can sitting on the desk inside the airstream. With barely any effort, he watched as it floated through the doorway and over towards Isobel.

“That was an excuse to get into Old Man Simmons’ head and you know it.” She narrowed his eyes at him but grabbed the can anyway. “Besides, isn’t there a more productive way to train?”

“What are you talking about? We used to do this all the time.” Max lifted the gun and signalled for Michael to throw the next can into the air.

“Yeah, when we were like seventeen. Don’t know if you noticed but we’re not kids anymore.”

“Tell me about it. Did you know Sheriff Valenti let me assist on another murder case last week. She said I’m showing potential.” 

“Bit of a morbid thing to brag about there, Deputy.” Michael grinned as he used his power to send the next can flying, trying to catch Max off guard with its speed. Max was too slow to hit it during its ascent, but before it touched the ground he had sent a bullet clean through it.

Michael whistled in amazement and clapped Max on the back. They may be adults now but hitting a target was just as exciting as when they were kids.

Isobel was less than impressed if the furrowed brow was anything to go by. She honestly couldn’t understand the desire to shoot things. “Great, you hit it. Can I go now?”

She made a point of checking the time on her phone with a sigh and Max gave Michael such a sibling look. The kind of look that clearly conveyed annoyance, irritation and the simple question of will she ever stop complaining.

“Will you lighten up Iz, it’s just a bit of fun.” Michael rolled his eyes dramatically. “Now hurry up and drink that, we’re gonna need it soon.”

He was about the throw another can when he noticed a white van driving up the path, recognising it immediately. He felt bad for the guy, having to come out to the middle of nowhere every month or so just to drop off a single letter.

He walked over to meet the mailman as he parked in front of them and gratefully took the letter passed to him through the open window.

“Who the hell is sending you mail?” Isobel leaned forward in her chair as the van drove off and Michael was worried for a second that she would get up and take it from him before he could stop her. She never did have good impulse control.

“It’s probably just junk.” He said dismissively, staring down at his name and address. He didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. He had literally never received a single letter from anyone else in his life.

He tried to plaster on his best nonchalant face as he jogged over to the airstream and prayed that the others wouldn’t ask questions. “It’s fine, I’ll check it later.”

Bypassing every surface entirely, knowing full well that if Isobel saw it on the desk she would open it, he opened the compartment above his bed. The cupboard had gotten more crowded over the years, but the shoebox still had its special little place inside. He looked down at the letter in his hand one more time, debating whether to just rip it open then and there, before sliding it on top of the box.

He’d read it later when he wasn’t busy.

September 2015

“Ahh Deluca. It’s been while.” Michael grinned as he took a seat at the bar. It was early evening on a Friday so the place was pretty packed, but luckily for him there was always a stool empty.

Maria grabbed a glass from the rack and the bottle of whiskey from behind her and began pouring. There were other servers behind the bar so she could afford to take her time conversing with this particular regular.

“Yes, surprisingly I did notice your absence from my bar recently and honestly I’m not sure who that looks worse for.”

“You. Definitely you.” Michael said dryly as he picked up the nearest coaster and began to twirl it between his fingers. “Besides if you were that desperate to see my ruggedly handsome face you wouldn’t have skipped your shift last Friday.”

“The fact that you know my shift pattern is not a good look for you Guerin.” Maria raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “Besides, I’m allowed a night off every now and then.”

“Oh yeah? To do what? Paint your nails? Have a nice little bubble bath? Some other girl related activity?”

“To see a friend actually. Because I have those.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” He muttered playfully and she moved forward to dramatically knock the coaster out of his hand.

“We had a lovely time, thank you for asking. He hasn’t been back home in ages so we decided to make a weekend of it.”

Michael froze at her words. There was really only one person she could be talking about but he asked the question anyway. “What friend is this?”

“Alex? Manes? He went to school with us. Former emo kid turned airman.” 

Michael’s mouth suddenly felt very dry and he couldn’t get his words out. He grabbed the drink that Maria had poured and took a large gulp. “Alex was here?”

“Yeah he had a few days leave so he came to see me. It was really sweet of him, I mean he’s worked hard for that time off and he could literally do anything with it but he chose to come here. I think he was missing home a bit actually.”

Michael bit his lip, almost enough to draw blood. He was suddenly filled with so much hurt he didn’t know what to do with it. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah. I think his work has been a bit tough recently but he seemed happy.” Maria smiled gently.

Seemed happy? Did that mean Alex was happy because he was home? Or because he was spending his time with someone other than Michael?

Michael was glad he was happy, of course he was glad. Alex’s happiness is all he’s ever wanted. And of course, he has a right to visit other friends, it was never Michael’s place to tell him not to. Even when he had stayed with Michael in the past, he had always made time to say hello to other friends before he had to leave again.

But this time he hadn’t even mentioned to Michael that he was coming home. Not a single word in any of the intermittent letters.

And maybe Michael was to blame. The last time they had seen each other hadn’t exactly been perfect. And recently he’d been putting off replying for weeks which Alex must have noticed. But he still always replied in the end! So that must have meant something, right? It must have proven to Alex that he still cared, that he would still want to spend time with him.

There was no way Alex could have known that he would find out. Michael had never properly mentioned the little love-hate friendship he had struck up with Maria over the years, so really Alex could never have predicted this. And that’s probably what he had wanted, to spend time in Roswell under the radar, away from Michael.

Should he be angry about this? Was he angry? Yes. He was probably being overdramatic but this seemed like the final nail in the coffin of their unspoken relationship.

Suddenly, he had the desperate urge to take his mind off everything he’d just heard so without thinking he turned to what he did best. Paying Maria half of what he owed for the drink, he locked eyes with a cute girl at the other end of the bar and eagerly slid off the stool, ready to make a night of it.

January 2016

Isobel grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek before he could stop her. The fireworks exploding into a hundred sparks above their heads were loud, but the cheering from the mass of people crowded outside of the Pony seemed louder.

“Happy New Year!!” Isobel practically screamed in his ear before turning to plant an overly enthusiastic kiss on Noah’s lips. This was probably the most drunk he had ever seen Isobel and every second of it was brilliant.

Max clapped a hand on Michael’s back and they tapped glasses in a less enthusiastic celebration. When Michael had suggested that the four of them go to the Wild Pony for New Year’s he had expected to be shot down instantly, but now that they were here he was glad they had actually agreed.

It had been a good night. There was plenty of alcohol, loud music and he’d won several games of pool - all without using his powers! Even Deluca had seemed almost happy to see him but he put that down to the Christmas spirit she’d been radiating for the past week.

Watching the fireworks felt like such a cliche way to end it. It was perfect. The colours lit up the sky, the bright blues and pinks of the explosions reminding him of the alien console that was slowly coming together beneath the earth of the junkyard and the booms were so powerful he could practically feel them reverberating in his chest.

He had drunk far too much to be able to quite remember how he made it home, but closing the door behind him, he noticed how lonely the airstream felt after spending the evening in a crowd of people. 

He threw his hat onto the desk and his shoes into the nearest corner and dropped onto the bed with a sigh. He clenched his left fist a few times as the ache became noticeable again. Even after all these years, the cold weather still wreaked havoc with his injury, making it cramp or stiffen up at the worst times.

As he stared up at the ceiling he had an idea. A truly terrible idea. And if he was sober he would have realised that, but sensible Michael had taken a break for the night.

He rolled off the bed and stumbled the short distance to his desk. For a messy person, his supplies were surprisingly organised with the paper stacked in one draw and a few envelopes scattered in another. He grabbed the closest pen to him and tested it worked on a scrap design that he hadn’t had the heart to throw away yet.

His uneven lettering would probably give away his drunken state but he didn’t care. This was probably the most honest he would ever be with Alex so why not take advantage of that.

Dear Alex,

I guess I should wish you a happy new year.

You know we’ve never spent a new years together? I know you’re really busy in your super important job but it would have been nice for you to celebrate it at home one year. Or maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.

I’ve been thinking about leaving Roswell. 2016 has officially begun and I’m stuck doing the same thing I’ve been doing my entire life, living in some tiny metal box and getting paid a measly amount at a job I only half show up to.

So maybe I should just leave. Get out of the town that’s filled with heaps of bad memories. Like all the shit that happened with Max and Isobel, all the stuff with your dad. Everywhere I look in this town has been tainted by bad people and bad choices.

So you know what they say, new year, new start.

I might go to Vegas and try my luck there. Or Texas. It’s not as far but at least I’d fit in. Or maybe I’ll just leave America completely! Europe sounds nice and I bet it isn’t just miles of sand.

I used to wish we could leave together. I’d save up enough money and as soon as you got out of the Air Force we’d just leave. It wouldn’t matter where, just anywhere away from this town. And we’d probably run out of money and it would be an absolute disaster but that would be okay because at least we’d be together.

I don’t think you want that though Alex, I think you’ve already moved on and that really hurts. So maybe I should just move on too.

Enjoy the new year with your boys.

Michael

Without reading it over, he folded the paper into an envelope and sealed it before he could second guess anything.

In the morning he wouldn’t remember what the letter said, but he’d post it anyway.

November 2016

Roswell always did go all out for Veterans Day. There were banners hung in every building, flags flying proudly from every window and it was as though every Roswell born member of the Armed Forces - past and present - had returned for the annual celebration. All except one.

The evening’s event was held at the drive in, organised by the one and only Isobel Evans-Bracken and that was the only reason Michael was there. To support Isobel and that’s it.

This day was hard most years. The constant reminders of Alex everywhere he’d go, the odd sighting of Jesse Manes being thanked for his service when that man was the entire reason for Alex’s absence.

He had always believed that he would get used to it the longer Alex was away. The town was very pro-military and there always seemed to be some parade or other so the constant reminders should have made him accustomed to the feelings it brought up.

But wishful thinking strikes again.

And this year seemed to be the worst of the lot.

He and Alex had hardly spoken all year and the letters he did receive sounded like Alex was just checking if he was still in Roswell more than anything else. He never quite worked out what gave the airman the impression that he would be leaving anytime soon.

To be fair though, all of his replies had been short and vague with a rather blunt tone that he couldn’t help. A small part of him knew that he was pushing Alex away and it was screaming at him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen. Unfortunately, when he was hurt his self preservation kicked in big time.

Grabbing another beer from the cooler, he took a seat next to Max on the back of the truck and watched as Master Sergeant Jesse Manes took to the stage to give a speech about duty and sacrifice and how those who had lost their lives had done so proudly in the service of their country.

It made him wonder if Alex would feel proud in his last moments. If the worst happened, would he be glad to die for his country or would he be afraid? Would he be filled with fear as he lay in the dirt, cold and bleeding, waiting for help that wasn’t going to arrive on time? Would he be with his team, surrounded by love and friendship and people begging him to be okay or would he be alone? 

Or maybe it would be quick. A swift bullet to the head or heart. A nice clean shot and a point to the enemy. There one minute and gone the next.

Would Alex even feel it?

Would Michael?

As the townsfolk and various uniformed men and women began clapping loudly around him, his mind was brought back to the present. Manes gave a wave to the crowd as he ended his speech and passed the microphone over to Isobel to announce the evening’s agenda.

As she listed the live music and entertainment that was in store, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on her words instead of the thoughts circling his head. He didn’t know why he still cared so much. Alex wasn’t Michael’s to protect or worry about. Not anymore.

Michael had moved on and maybe if he drunk enough tonight, his heart would finally believe that and his mind would stop reciting the latest letter that had arrived at his door.

Dear Michael,

We were shipped off to Baghdad two months ago.

I wasn’t going to tell you because I don’t want you to worry and it’s not fair for me to force this onto you when you’re off living your own life now. It’s just a lot has happened on this tour already and I’ve been getting this feeling that I should probably let you know that I’m here.

All things considered, I’m actually quite lucky that this is only my third deployment bearing in mind how many years I’ve been serving. I’ve heard stories about some people who are on tour after tour and I don’t think I’d be able to handle the never ending missions.

It turns out I must be quite good at my job though because the team I’m with requested me. They needed someone with my specialist skillset so I guess its rather flattering but it makes me think that this job is going to be harder than the others.

It’s crazy to think about how much I’ve accomplished since I first joined. Seventeen year old Alex would hate that I’m still here but I guess he didn’t know the world like I do now. I still think about him sometimes though, the rebellious kid who wore too much eyeliner.

I know I don’t say it much but I’m really grateful for the time we spent together back then. And since then. They’re some of my favourite memories.

But I’m glad you’ve found your own path in life. You have a job that you love, a place to live that you can call your own and friends and family that you can always turn to.

I hope everyone is okay back home. I hope you’re okay. 

And more than anything, I hope that you’re happy. It’s what you deserve and I’m sure one day you’ll find someone who sees that and makes you even happier.

From, 

Alex.

He hated that Alex was back there.

And he hated that the letter sounded like a goodbye.

February 2017

Dear Alex,

I know it’s taken me a while to reply. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I’ve just been thinking about everything that’s happened and I didn’t want to say something I would regret. You’d probably tell me that I was overthinking and I’d dramatically disagree of course. But you would be right.

I’ve been thinking a lot about where you are right now and all of the bad things that could happen. I’m not going to go into how many soldiers have died over there because I’m sure you know more about it than me, just make sure you’re not added to that list, okay? I haven’t acted like it recently but it worries me that you’re somewhere so dangerous, so please be careful.

I know we’ve drifted but I still care about you Alex so I need you to be okay. I’ve been distancing myself from you these past few years and I’m sorry for that. I thought you were pushing me away so I did all I could to push you away first. I know I can’t change that now but maybe it can be different going forward.

It’s been almost three years since I last saw you in person and in a weird way it feels like yesterday. Three years sounds like a long time but looking back, it’s flown past way too quickly. So much has changed since then. I see Sanders occasionally but I haven’t worked at the junkyard in years, Isobel is married, the Wild Pony has starting having open mic nights and the Crashdown has gained about ten new milkshakes.

But I suppose the one constant is that you haven’t been here. You’ve been off being an American hero and that’s such an incredible achievement. You’ve travelled to places that I will never go, accomplished things I will probably never understand and been involved in so much that I can never know about. 

I’m sure it hasn’t always been the positive experience that people make it out to be, but I’m so happy you’ve been able to make something of your life.

You’re probably on some super secret mission right now with your little carefully selected team, but if you’ve got a minute, let me know that you’re okay.

Michael

July 2017

Alex hadn't answered. Five months and four goddamn letters and Alex hadn't answered a single one. And Michael was pissed. 

Well, first he was terrified. He had made up all manner of excuses. Maybe the letters got lost in the post. Maybe Alex was too busy to reply. But the never ending weeks of radio silence soon left Michael thinking the worst.

He had scoured the news headlines for any reports of American deaths in Iraq, he checked the obituary lists for any updates and he kept an ear out for any locals discussing the untimely death of Alex Manes.

He didn’t want to find out but he needed to know the truth.

Maria hadn’t mentioned anything in the many nights he had spent drowning his sorrows at the bar, so he took that as a good sign but then again she could just be as in the dark as he was.

After a while though, when no bad news had surfaced, he accepted the sad fact that Alex had chosen not to reply.

That the man he once loved had read his letters and hadn’t cared enough to respond. That he’d read the carefully selected words that conveyed Michael’s love and gratitude and worry. That he’d held the paper in his hands, each letter more honest than the last, and had decided to leave Michael hanging.

And if it proved one thing, it’s that he was right to stop waiting for Alex. 

He had woken up that morning missing Alex desperately. Missing his face, his voice, his laugh, his words. But when, once again, no letter arrived, his anger tore through as he finally decided to face the cold hard truth that had been waiting in the back of his mind for weeks.

Their relationship had been going downhill for a long time and now the airman had clearly made the choice for the both of them. Alex had ended whatever it was they had going on and so now Michael would do the same.

That night he went to sleep, vowing to never think of Alex again, so painfully unaware that Alex, now with half a limb cruelly taken from him, had read the letters. In fact he'd read over every letter in his metal box, mourning the end of their relationship with each one. 

Waking up in the hospital bed five months ago he'd seen his future. The future filled with therapy, physio, phantom pains, decreased mobility, the constant awkwardness from other people. And he refused to burden Michael with that. His beautiful cowboy deserved so much better.

Soon the letters would stop completely and Alex would accept that because why would Michael keep trying when he was receiving nothing in return? And maybe they’ll never see each other again and maybe they’ll never reconcile, but that would be okay because at least this way, Michael would be free.

December 2017

It was two weeks until Christmas and Isobel was on his case about a present. Why do you have to make my life difficult, Michael? You’re the only person I haven’t bought for, Michael. Can you find some actual hobbies so that I know what to get you, Michael?

The queen of organisation was getting very stressed at the mere thought of having to do any last minute shopping but how would Michael tell her what he really wanted for Christmas when obtaining it was impossible?

And yeah, yeah, he said he was going to stop thinking about him. But let’s be real, that was never going to happen.

Instead he drank. A lot. And gambled and hooked up with pretty girls and committed enough petty crime to make Max consider a very early retirement.  

Anything to get his mind off Alex. But as blissful as the forgetting was in the night, it always came flooding back in the morning. Because every morning he woke up and stared at the compartment where the box was stored and every morning it reminded him of Alex. Well, no more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed as he tried to ignore the cold winter wind raging outside, he made the decision to move it. If he hid it away and promised himself that he would never look inside again then maybe, just maybe, he would finally move on.

Standing up was a choice he instantly regretted as the room spun slightly and the sun blaring in through the newspaper covered window immediately fuelled the hangover burning behind his eyes. But as soon as everything settled he wasted no time in opening the compartment and taking out the box.

His fingers were itching to lift up the lid and peek inside but that would only make it harder. Instead he clamped the sides tightly in his grip and headed straight for the closet.

It was ironic really, hiding Alex in the closet - a thought that only came to him as he was opening the door - but it was the only place in the tiny hamster cage of a home where it would be safe from prying eyes, Michael’s included. 

There were a pair of boots at the bottom alongside some old clothes Max had given him years ago and a cardboard box of blueprints, photos and spaceship pieces he had yet to take to the junkyard.

He lifted them out easily and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor next to where he was kneeling - they had been shoved in the bottom of a closet for god knows how long, they could manage a bit of manhandling.

With the space now empty, the shoebox went in first, being pushed as far into the corner as possible before he gave himself the chance to change his mind. The larger box went back in next, taking up the remaining floor space, then the boots and bag of clothes were thrown in afterwards. As long as they didn’t fall out, he didn’t care where they landed.

As he closed the door his phone rang and looking at the caller ID the timing couldn’t have been more perfect as he’d finally thought of an idea for what Isobel could buy him.

Because why spend your own money to fuel your drinking habit when someone else could do it for you.

March 2018

Michael was shocked awake by a loud thump. Sitting up too quickly, scrambling to get his brain in gear, he noticed Max standing on the other side of the cage with a large pile of files on the desk in front of him. That explains what caused the rude awakening then.

“Thanks.” He groaned, lying back down on the metal bench. His head was thumping and he was not in the mood for the conversation that was bound to follow.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing with you?” Max asked as he took a seat at the desk. The chair scraped horribly on the floor and it made Michael wince.

He stared up at the ceiling and took a few breaths before talking. He didn’t normally feel this bad after drinking but he’d forgotten to grab a bottle of acetone before heading to the Pony and it had been a long night.

“I thought you wanted to spend more time together.” He replied impudently after a moment. 

He heard Max sigh and could practically see him rolling his eyes.

“It’s not funny, Michael.”

“It’s a little funny.” He smirked, attempting to sit up again, groaning as it became clear how much his back hadn’t appreciated his drunk tank sleeping arrangements. Max didn’t even glance up at him from the file he was reading. “Right, are you gonna let me out or not?”

“Nope. Valenti’s just outside and she’ll know if I go easy on you.” 

Michael scoffed and debated just lifting the keys from the desk with his powers. Why did Max have to be such a rule-following little Deputy? It was as if Max was the mind reader of the trio though as he grabbed the keys without looking and put them straight into his pocket.

“I’m just trying to help you.” Max gave him a pointed look that Michael just wanted to punch right off his face sometimes.

“Like always…” Michael muttered under his breath.

“I’m surprised Maria hasn’t barred you yet. You cause her more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The fight wasn’t even that bad, everyone just overreacted. Besides, the other guy totally started it.”

Max shook his head as he got back to his work. Michael wasn’t lying, he hadn’t started the fight, he had just been rather eager to join in. Sometimes punching things felt good.

Max was clearly not letting him out anytime soon and it was well before noon so no-one was expecting him to be at work for a good couple of hours. He could try to negotiate his freedom but Max had this whole save Michael from himself agenda going on recently so it would probably just be a waste of breath.

Instead he could take the easy route and catch up with a bit more sleep.

June 2018

“Quick Alex, run and tell your daddy.”

Michael instantly regretted his words the second the door had closed behind him.

But he hadn’t seen Alex in four years, hadn’t heard from him in months. He had every right to be angry. Right?

Except he wasn’t angry, not really, that was just a façade he was forcing forward to help protect himself from the heartache threatening to break through. He never could stay angry at Alex for long.

Looking through the shoebox filled him with a cautious kind of hope. Just because Alex was back didn’t mean anything was going to change between them but Michael just couldn’t help it.

He sat on the floor for a while as he read over some of the letters, his legs getting cramped in the small gap between the bed and the closet. He had forgotten how happy the earlier letters were, the ones sent before Alex had had a chance to experience combat. They had both been so young back then, so unaware of how life would turn out.

Once he was finished, he left the shoebox on his desk, feeling too nostalgic to put it back in the closet but not yet ready to commit to the overhead compartment again. Thoughts of Alex followed him well into the afternoon of the next day and they didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Twenty-four hours since Alex had been standing right in front of him and he had completely fallen for the airman all over again.

But that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let Alex in again. Not if it was just going to end the same way.

So when Alex approached him at the reunion, suggesting that he had turned his trailer into a meth lab, Michael did all he could to put the wall back up again. He was sarcastic and aggrieved and did his best to rile Alex up. You trying to hold my hand, Private?

And when he shoved past Alex he pretended to himself that it felt good.

But the heart wants what the hearts wants and all evening his eyes kept being drawn back to Alex. He barely noticed the girl at his side as he watched Alex smile politely and engage in conversation with people they had both gone to school with and when Alex ducked into a side room, he couldn’t stop his feet from following.

Watching Alex check his prosthetic broke Michael’s heart. He wanted to ask a million questions, how did it happen? When did it happen? Does it hurt? Are you okay? Alex was walking on it, albeit with a crutch, so it must have been at least a year since he was injured and Michael had been oblivious to it all. Although an entire year of unanswered letters were suddenly provided with a devastating explanation.

To lose a limb must be unimaginable, but whatever had caused it, Michael was just so glad that it hadn’t taken all of him.

He leaned against the doorway as his eyes roamed over every part of the man in front of him, taking him in completely. His beautiful face that Michael was desperate to put a smile on, his soft hair that had grown since he had last been home, the checkered shirt that looked so much more Alex than the uniform, the way he glowed under the coloured lights.

They had both been through so much this past decade but Alex was back, potentially for good this time, and Michael was about to dive headfirst into the possibility of them rekindling whatever it was they once had.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch, huh?” He spoke up, hoping beyond anything that Alex wouldn’t walk away. He allowed a gentle smile and when Alex dropped his leg to the floor and faced him properly, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

Alex took a moment to reply and when he did his face gave no hints as to whether he was happy to see Michael or not. “I thought for sure when I got back from Iraq you would be long gone.” 

“Is that what you want?” Michael avoided eye contact, suddenly not wanting to witness the moment Alex turned him away but still, he walked closer.

“We’re not kids anymore.” Alex whispered, the words catching in his throat, and still Michael kept walking. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

They were so close to each other now, barely an arm’s length away from touching and the close proximity gave Michael all the courage he needed. He drew his longing gaze away from Alex’s eyes to his soft lips and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

One moment they were two separate people and the next they were crashing together like waves that had been parted for an eternity.

Michael’s entire body tingled, the feeling of Alex’s palm on his back, Alex’s lips against his own. He was hardly aware of what his hands were doing, cupping Alex’s face and pulling him closer, hungry and intense and desperate to reclaim what they had lost. He barely breathed as the rest of the world fell away until it was just them in their intimate, almost forbidden, moment.

His anger at Alex and his year long desire to banish any thought of him was long forgotten. He was back, he was here and Michael didn’t ever want to let go. 

As they parted, foreheads still touching, Michael couldn’t bear to take his eyes off the man in front of him, convinced that if he closed his eyes for even a second it would all disappear. The moment was so perfect, part of him felt like he was dreaming.

Their relationship over the past decade had been a complete rollercoaster but now, feeling Alex pressed against him, Michael was convinced that things would be different now.

And maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

The End.

Thank you for reading ❤️✨

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 8

A/N: i forgot to queue this up because i fell into the wormhole of minecraft LMFAO pls forgive me...also this part is a lil all over the place and i realize i need to hurtty it up with the plot bc i’m only on episode 3 but it’s hard when writing more interactions with the characters is so much fun

Warnings: Underage smoking, mature/sexual themes, cursing, angst and fluff at the same time 

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

The pogues had successfully obtained the drone from the salvage yard, which had been no easy task (you had heard the entire story from Kiara that morning, who insisted that the boys were incapable of carrying out even the simplest of plans). 

You took out the HMS Pogue that morning, just outside the dock so that Pope could work out how to use the drone.

Pope had arrived very early in the morning, having snuck out before Papa Heyward could rise, and he immediately threw an arm over JJ, who was helping you and John B get the boat out on the water.  

You saw them whisper quietly, Pope gesturing towards his clothes and JJ brushing him off, clearly trying to just make a joke to get a laugh out of him. Eventually, JJ pulled Pope’s cap over his head and walked away, joining you and your brother.

Once Kiara found her way to the Chateau, she and your brother dove in, so that Pope could search for them using the drone.

“What’s this?” JJ asked, his fingers extending towards one of the many dizzying buttons on the flight monitor for the drone. 

 Pope slapped his hand away instantly. “Don’t touch that.” He noticed your fingers approaching the monitor, too, your restless and curious hands unable to help themselves. Sighing, he turned to you, his face puckered so irritably you worried for his digestion. “What did I just say?” He turned back to the screen as you dropped your hands to your sides, giving JJ a look that said Sheesh. “I’m trying to work out this thing.”

John B and Kiara treaded water in front of the monitor and you smiled. “Hey Kie, flash us why don’tcha?”

JJ giggled and Pope rolled his eyes. “She’s underwater, genius. She can’t hear a damn thing you’re saying.”

“God bless geeks Pope, truly man,” said JJ, looking impressed.

You nodded. “Yeah, what would we do without you to control the drones?”

Pope pursed his lips. “It’s not a drone; it’s an ROV—”

“Shut up. Shut UP,” grumbled JJ, overlooking the water as Kiara and your brother resurfaced. “It’s too early for that right now.”

“Hey, once we get footage of the Wreck, we’ll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim,” John B said as Pope explained maritime salvage law. 

The words were familiar to you—things your dad had always repeated, convinced the information would come in handy at some point. Guess he was right, after all.

Kiara looked at your brother, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion; he was spouting information that would usually go way over his head, given he only had a brain cell or two (max) to work with. “How do you know all of that?”

“‘Cause our dad said it like a million times,” you answered for him, JJ turning to look at you as you kept your eyes forward.

As Pope began discussing how the length of the tether required dead calm weather to pull this off, you tuned out, lost in thought. You didn’t like being obvious; you didn’t like everyone knowing that even the slight mention of your dad had you spiraling, but you could feel JJ’s gaze on you and you knew you weren’t subtle.

You felt warmth in your hand, felt it instantly travel up your arm and thaw at your chest. You looked down to see JJ’s ring-clad hand interlaced with your own, a gesture of silent comfort. The action was soft, out of character for him, but you couldn’t deny that it helped...a lot. You gulped, refusing to meet his eyes, but giving his hand a silent squeeze, conveying that you didn’t want him to let go. And he didn’t. He held on silently, out of sight from the rest of the pogues. 

One look at the darkening clouds and clearly growing storm had you guys deciding to go at slack tide on a day when the weather was quieter.

Kiara mentioned that she had to get back to the Wreck and Pope said he had to go back to Heyward’s. 

“If I don’t split now, my ass is grass.” He gave you and JJ a group hug, somehow sensing the weird emotional vulnerability in the air. You kissed him on the cheek, whispering a quick thanks before pulling away. 

John B went with Pope without another word, presumably to gather more of the practical stuff for what you all had planned for later.

JJ turned to you, visibly awkward as he shuffled his feet. Unused to this novel tension between the two of you, you blurted out. “Want a quick smoke?”

JJ shook his head disapprovingly, walking back over to the dock. 

You followed him, his back turned to you as he stared out at the water. “You think it’s really out there?”

“The gold?”

“No, the loch ness monster.”

“JJ you should know that the loch ness is just an old sailor—”

“Of course the gold, Y/N!”

You paused, before walking forward, sidling up next to him and leaning your arms on the railings.

You played with JJ's ring on your thumb, which he noticed, an unmistakable smile in his eyes. “I didn’t believe it until yesterday.”

“But you believe now?”

“I’m not really big on faith, JJ.”

“Don’t I know it,” he grumbled.

You whipped your head towards him. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Without another word, JJ’s hand pushed at your lower back, the other at the back of your neck to pull your face into his. He paused just centimeters away, clearly fighting for control. “Can I?”

You couldn’t help the word that blurted out of your mouth like a pathetic whimper. “Please.”

It didn’t seem to bother him. JJ closed the distance between your lips, and the now familiar sensation had you grasping at his hair, his shirt, his arm, anything, anything to try and ground yourself in this moment because the feeling of his mouth on yours had you worried you would float off into oblivion. 

It wasn’t like yesterday, because this time, JJ was prepared. He was aggressive, as if he was trying to get everything out of this right here, right now, because he feared there was no chance he would get to do it again.

He got you to open your mouth for him, deepening the kiss. When his hand slipped down to your ass, he pulled away, looking at you in question. “Do you wanna…?” He let the question hang in the air, his eyes not leaving yours.

You nodded immediately, pushing out any rational thought. How could you think rationally when he was touching you like that, kissing you like that?

Grabbing the backs of your thighs, JJ whispered, “Then jump, Trouble.”

You did, allowing him to secure your legs around his hips. You didn’t look at him, opting to brush your nose along his ear as he carried you into the Chateau. You felt him shiver and smiled against his neck, pressing a chaste kiss there.

JJ entered your room, closing the door and locking it with a flick of his wrist. He set you down, making sure to drag you down his front. 

You didn’t look at his face; you couldn’t. While you may have thrown rational thought out the window, you knew your hard limits. You let out a nervous laugh. “This, uh...this is a one time thing, Maybank.” You quickly flicked your eyes to his. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

JJ didn’t say anything, bringing a finger to lift your chin up to look at him head on. He was challenging you and you knew it. Even without you saying a word, he saw right through you. He could see you were scared. Fear was a look he thought he’d never see on the face of the most dauntless, intrepid person he’d ever met. But he was seeing it now, and he was taken aback by how much it affected him. JJ hated this look on you. It tugged at his severe and sometimes problematic protectiveness, but he didn’t know how to protect you from himself. He wanted nothing more than to give you the biggest hug, but instead he looked at you. Just looked. 

It was a moment or two before you got impatient and said. “What? You get it, right?” He nodded and you took that as affirmation, wrapping your arms around your neck and attempting to bring him towards you.

JJ stopped you, hands dropping from your body. You looked up at him while he looked at the ground. When his eyes met yours, they were rimmed with red and your heart sped up, both in confusion and concern. “Please don’t ask me for this.”

You grabbed his wrist. “JJ, what?”

“I know we’ve never really talk about it.” He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam's apple bob against his throat. “But I think you know.”

He was talking about his feelings for you. Yeah, you knew. But hearing him basically confirm it shocked you to your core. Still, you mustered up the ability to nod softly. 

 He continued. “I have given you everything I can, Trouble. Except…” he gestured at the space between you two. “Except this. If I give you that right now...and you get up and go, like I know you will. If it means nothing to you, then there will be nothing left in me.” You let go of JJ’s wrist. You could tell this was very difficult for him to admit, his hands shaking and his eyes restless as he kept looking around the room.

“J—” You started.

“—No, listen, Y/N. I’m begging you not to ask me for this. Because I think we both know that if you ask...I won’t say no.” 

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart cracked and fluttered at the same time, trying to keep any emotion off of your face. “Right, well,” you looked anywhere but at him, your eyes finally settling on the doorway behind him. “I..I should go..I think Kiara asked me to stop by the Wreck and help her with...something.” You had never been able to lie to JJ, and he had always called you out on it when you tried.

“Y/N—”

You shook your head. “I’ll see you later, JJ.”

You didn’t give him time to say anything else, running out of your room and out of the Chateau, only pausing briefly to grab the keys to the van, flinching at the sound of a fist hitting wood and JJ’s resounding. “FUCK!” 

~

You plastered a smile on your face as you entered the wreck, shooting the bartender your signature grin. That grin was always your bait. It usually got you anything you wanted.

The rather pretty bartender smiled shyly back, her cheeks flushing slightly under your blinding smile. “Is Kiara around?”

She stuttered. “Oh! Ah, y-yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll just go get h-her…”

Hook, line and sinker.

Kiara came out from the back, rolling her eyes once she saw it was you. Grabbing your hand, she brought you through a side exit, slapping your hand away when you tried to grab a fry from some touron customer.

“You gonna keep flirting with our employees, Y/N?”

You shrugged as she led you right outside the Wreck, leaning against the side of the building and facing you. “I mean if you keep hiring such attractive employees, then I can’t help it.” 

Kiara rolled her eyes...again. “If you keep doing that, they’re gonna get stuck like that and then we’re going to need an exorcist, which none of us can afford and Pope would scare away with some random forensics fact.”

Kiara shoved at your shoulder and then passed you a joint from her pocket.

You snatched it instantly and she smiled. “You looked like you needed that.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, pulling out your lighter from your bra. It instantly reminded you of JJ, the two of you having gotten matching ones engraved with your names. It reminded you of how you always felt bound by no law when you were with him and you were quick to light your joint and tuck the lighter away. 

Kiara raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “Are you kidding me? You haven’t looked straight at me for more than a second!”

You took a hit of the joint, letting the drug fill your lungs and hoping it would swiftly calm your running mind. “It’s a beautiful world, Kie. Just tryna take it all in.” you shrugged. “That’s not to say you’re not beautiful; I mean, you know how gorgeous I think you are, but you closed that door on me so this is on you.”

Kiara furrowed her brows at your nonsensical words, taking notice of your right foot, which was tapping incessantly. She plucked the joint from your hand and took an inhale herself, ignoring your protests and curses.

“Is it JJ?” She asked.

“What about JJ?”

Kiara groaned, dropping the joint to the ground and snuffing it out, hands on her hips. “Gosh, why do you have to be this difficult? You make girl talk feel like torture!”

Playing innocent, you said, “Girls? You wanna talk about girls? I can talk about them all day. Short girls, tall girls, girl’s with big eyes, girls with big—” 

Kiara slapped you over the head. “Shut your damn mouth.”

You opened your mouth to make a quip, but she put her hand over it, stopping you. You raised your eyebrows at her suggestively and she looked fearful. “No! Don’t you dare!”

Too late. Shrieking, Kiara took her hand back, yakking on air at the sensation of your tongue on her palm. 

Once she calmed down from her dramatics, she put a hand on your shoulder. “Look, if you’re reacting like this, it has to be JJ—”

“I—”

“—No, shut the fuck up and let me speak, god damn it!” Grumbling, you let her carry on. “Whatever happened, get it through that thick head of yours that it’s nothing that can’t be undone or at least, nothing the two of you can’t get over because y’all are stronger than some silly misunderstanding or argument or whatever. You’re family if I’ve ever seen it.”

You softened at her words, eyes finally settling on hers. You let yourself slip, giving in to her kind voice and maternal embrace. “I hope you’re right, Kie.”

Even Kiara looked surprised at your lack of a joke or brush off. “Oh, Y/N,” she cooed, pulling you into her arms. 

You stayed for a second, before shoving her off and making a joke about how she had rejected you only to string you along further and that she should stop with the mixed feelings. 

Kiara gave a soft smile at your behavior, which she could see right through, but didn’t comment, knowing you wouldn’t react well. She simply wrapped an arm around your waist and stayed with you. You began to think that’s all you needed—for someone to stay. 

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes…)

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I’m also kind of new to tagging and rlly bad at it so if something is wrong, I’m sorry and pls let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it!

I also lost my updated tag list i’m so dumb so let me know if I told you i would tag you and i didn’t oop

Stay safe and stay healthy!

[ironwoman18]

We Found Love in a Hopeless Place Part 24

The end of this fic has arrived!!! Hope you like this and comments your thoughts.

Read you at the end.

Chapter 24: Family

Spencer had been working in between cases trying to understand what was going on with those emails he received a few weeks ago.

“You’re so quiet… when you read” Max said as she walked to him, holding two cups of coffee.

“My brain is working… this person is sending me weird messages and I can understand quite well what he is meaning…” he said looking at her while holding the cup of coffee “I think this person was in my seminars and got my email from there”

“Not even with your super memory?” she asked sitting next to him.

He laughed softly “the problem is that there were so many people that I can’t focus on a particular person if I don’t know who I am looking in the first place”

She nodded and checked his laptop “and what do you expect to find?”

“I think this person is dealing with someone really dangerous because the way he is talking is like he knows someone might track our communications” she nodded drinking more coffee “now… I don’t know what to do, I’m trapped” he bit his lip thinking and watching the screen.

She looked at him and closed the laptop “come on… let’s go out for a walk. It will relax you” she held his cup and put it on the table then held his hand and made him get in.

“Max… I don’t know if this case is a life or dead situation…” he said looking at his girlfriend.

“Spencer… baby… I know it is important but I learned something in my career, when you can’t have new and creative ideas, you need to do something else, like going out or listen to music” she looked up at him “if you stay here your brain won’t think correctly”

“Well that’s a good theory”

“It’s not a theory, it’s a fact” she smirked softly and he smirked back “now let’s go”

He nodded and after getting jackets the couple left the apartment for a walk. They set just one rule; they cannot mention anything about his current investigation. They ate pretzels and watched the kids playing at the park.

They spent the rest of the afternoon out of the apartment. And when they got back to the apartment she looked at him before open the door “you need to relax and think out of the box. If this person is talking with encrypted messages you need to try to figure out the meaning for them” he nodded and leaned in to kiss her.

“I think that’s a great advice” he hugged her and walked in together.

After a couple of hours later they ordered dinner and decided to watch a movie, he picked Titanic. Almost at the end of the movie and a couple of tears after Jack’s dead; Max looked up at him and, as the credits started, with Celine Dion in the background she started to talk “Spencer, I had been thinking for a while about this but I knew neither of us were ready but now I think we are” she said looking his face and his reactions “I want you to move in with me. Its almost a year since we met and honestly I never had good luck with this kind of decisions but I got a feeling that it will be different with you” she bit her lip looking at him.

Spencer took a long moment to answer, making her nervous “I would love to. I know your story with your ex boyfriends and you know that I’m like an old man in a younger one but as you said… I think we are different and we love each other so I’m sure we will be perfectly fine” she hugged and kissed him.

He decided to ask for a days off to continued his investigations and to move his books and clothes to her apartment. And he was sure that he found everything he needed to know, he led a SWAT Team in a storage unit where they found the former VICAP agent Owen Quinn.

At first he thought the agent was dead but suddenly the man came back to life and they took him to check in the hospital then returned to the BAU.

“Spence… how did you find Quinn?”

“I received some emails with some encrypted information and at the end I figured them out to find him”

“Emails? Since when you… the technophobic… created an email account?”

“JJ I created one for my classes during the few months I was my hours in the field restricted, so you don’t need to worry…” he said walking to the interrogation room.

“Of course I have to… Spence, you hid information about going to New Mexico to buy a medicine for your mother, which led Catherine Adams to attack you” she said stopping him “I’m your best friend and I didn’t even know you have and email. Also I feel like you are hiding more things and I can’t tell what”

“JJ… you know I really appreciate your concern and I’m happy that you are worry but I’m not a kid or your son. I’m a grow man and I can take care of myself. I know you do it because you don’t want me to get hurt but you can’t protect me all the time” he said in a calm voice, he did not say it angry or frustrated. She just nodded and he left to start the interrogation.

It was hard to believe Quinn’s story about the marriage couple and their son keeping him hostage, so the team was trying to keep their minds open but it was hard, especially knowing his paranoia with this serial killer team.

After hours they discovered that the person who sent Spencer the emails was Theo, the son of the crazy couple, which helped them to believe in Quinn’s story. When they finally understood about the cult they led Quinn go.

The team left to Rossi’s house for a drink and maybe even dinner but Spencer and Penelope which stayed a few more time. He wanted to wait with Quinn’s son until his dad was released, and he texted Max about it, and Penelope had a few things to finished before joining the team.

But VICAP agent Mary Meadows went down with Penelope and Quinn and she killed Quinn and kidnapped Penelope.

Then took Spencer hostage with her and took them out of the FBI building.

The team thought it was Quinn’s fault at first but after watching the cameras they realized that Mary was the one who did it. Meanwhile Spencer and Penelope worked together to left breadcrumbs for the team, doing little things to lead them to the cult.

Emily recognized Mary from an old case and the team discovered their plan of killing three hundred people and Spencer was the three hundredth so they decided to leave to save him after saving Penelope.

They did not have troubles finding the Cult, and they made sure to be quiet to infiltrate and save Spencer.

On their way home and after a heartfelt conversation Emily decided to give him a little surprise to she texted Max, explained her briefly what happened and asked her to go to the FBI office. Max did not ask much, she was happy to know he was fine and on his way home so she drove to the FBI.

Emily made some calls to get her in and when they arrived to the airport, the team went to the office to see Garcia, who was crying and hugged her good friend and Comic-Con partner.

Then Emily led him to her office “I brought a surprise for you, I made sure no one see her because I know you don’t want them to know” he shook his head knowing what she did.

“Really? You brought her here?” she nodded and opened the door of her office. There was Max biting her nails waiting. She looked at him, he had some bruises and cuts on his head but he looked as handsome and perfect as usual.

She walked to him and hugged him tightly; he hugged her back and laid his head on her hair. She cried on his chest for a minute and when she calmed down he led her to a couch in the office.

“I-I got worry when you didn’t arrive but I thought you had some other things to do. T-Then Emily texted me to come here because you were kidnapped by a cult…”

“Yeah… I met them after Gidion left the team, their former leader died that day and another man took over the cult. They spent all this time killing around the country and collecting the bone that hold the tongue in place. They had two hundred ninety-nine of them and wanted there three hundred”

“And it would be yours, right?” she rubbed his cheek with tears. He nodded and his eyes were on hers “what happened to the man you found?”

“He died… the woman who kidnapped me and Garcia killed him because he recognized her” she nodded and hugged him again. She was happy to have him back but worry about what could come next “come on… I think you should meet my family” he smiled and stands up “they saved me and now I want them to know someone who saved me in another way” she smiled still with tear.

They walked out the office and there were the rest of the team. JJ looked at him then at her and she smiled, finally realizing why he was different. The rest of the team looked at them and smiled.

“Boy genius had a girlfriend?” asked Penelope watching Max close to him.

“Apparently…” said Matt looking at Luke “you own me 50 bucks” he whispered in his ear.

The Latin man signed “You are better profiler than me man…” he handed it to Matt without the others realizing.

“Guys this is Max. She is my girlfriend and the person who helped me recover after what happened with Cat” she waved at them.

“I heard so many things about you all and I’m glad to finally meet you” said Max smiling.

Each of them introduced themselves and after that Rossi invited them to go to his house for a proper dinner/ breakfast and a toast for finally meeting Spencer’s girlfriend.

Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility

Cat Adams was in her cell, bored, when one of her puppets walked in “Cat, I have information…”

“About?”

“Spencer Reid…” Cat’s bored face changed “he has a girlfriend”

“How do you know it?”

“There’s someone in the FBI that told a guard here and he told me” Cat smirked and nodded.

“Thank you Claire… I have something fun to do now” her smile grows bigger.

“The memories we make with our family is everything.” – Candace Cameron Bure.

FIN?

OOooOOooOO

I hope you liked this final chapter. Thank you again for reading and sharing your feedback. If you have plots for Maxcer let me know and I will do it.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎃 Frightful October Act IX, #26 ~ Howl (Yongguk Bang)

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Supernatural, Romance, Fluff, Werewolf AU

Word Count: 2,484

Pairing: Reader x Yongguk

World: B.A.P

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When you were thirteen-years-old, your parents planned a camping trip as a last-ditch effort to save their failing marriage. They did their best to act like everything was all fine and dandy around you, but you weren’t stupid. You heard their hushed arguments when they thought you were sleeping. You noticed how your mom started going to work early and staying late so she didn’t have to be around her husband. You noticed the sadness in your dad’s eyes when he smiled at you.

You knew that everything was breaking apart around you, but there was nothing you could do, especially when they were adamant that everything was fine. It was beyond frustrating.

Your mother cleared her throat from the passenger seat, turning around to look at you. “Are you excited, Y/N? The Autumn trees are supposed to be gorgeous! It’s a full moon tonight, too, so there will be plenty of light.”

You knew how hard your parents were trying for your sake so you forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m hoping to get a lot of nice pictures,” you tapped the camera sitting on the seat beside you.

Your dad glanced in the rearview mirror before turning his gaze back to the road. “Let’s make some good memories this weekend.” You could hear the words he didn’t speak out loud, ‘Because this will probably be the last time we’re all together.’

The car got silent after that. You lent your head on the cool glass, watching as orange and brown streaked by the car.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

You pushed yourself up with a sigh, rubbing your hand over your face. You had been trying so hard to sleep, but the hushed arguing coming from your parent’s tent made it impossible. ‘I’m so tired of this. I just want a moment of peace.’

You slipped on your jacket, grabbed your camera and put on your boots before stepping out into the chilly night. You made no effort to be quiet, but your parents were too busy arguing to pay attention to the crunching of fallen leaves as you walked away from camp.

The full moon was high in the sky, illuminating the darkness around you. It was so large and looked so close, like you could reach out and touch it. Several trees were bare, their leaves scattered across the dirt below. Crickets were chirping in the distance, pausing their song only when there was a gust of wind. It was so peaceful, so beautiful. You easily got lost in the serenity of the nature that surrounded you, taking pictures of anything that caught your eye.

As the night slowly dragged on, the temperature started to drop, the cold wind penetrating your jacket and making your body shiver. You thought now would be a good time to return to camp, but you had no idea where you were or what direction was which. You pulled out your phone, but there was no signal and the cold was quickly draining the battery.

With a heavy sigh, you fell against a thick tree, one whose leaves were not affected by the cold, and you slid down to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest in a vain attempt to keep yourself warm.

The bushes rustled in front of you, followed by a deep growl.

Your body tensed up, eyes widening as a ginormous wolf stepped out of the bushes. It was easily larger than a great dane, it’s body full of muscle and thick fur the color of dark chocolate. Its eyes were a piercing gold, full of knowledge and age, and they were staring straight into your own.

You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep the fear from reaching your voice. “I-It’s okay, boy. I’m not here to hurt you. I… I got lost in the woods, I promise I mean you no harm.”

He regarded you curiously, tilting his head to the side as his ears flicked. He was sizing you up, determining if you posed a threat. He stepped forward, his large paws snapping branches as he moved closer. You were terrified of this creature, but something deep down told you that he wasn’t going to hurt you. He had a calming aura about him and you felt your body relaxing on its own. His large muzzle lowered to your hand, gripping the sleeve of your jacket between his sharp teeth before giving a tug.

Carefully, you brought yourself to your feet, not wanting to make any sudden movements. He started through the bushes, pausing to look back at you until you started to follow. Following a giant wolf through the middle of the woods in the middle of the night probably wasn’t your brightest achievement, but at the time, it felt like your only option for survival.

The wolf led you to a small clearing. On the left was a tall rock that towered above the earth before curving outward, providing the small indent with a roof. As you approached, five wolf heads lifted into the sky, their noses twitching as your scent reached them on the breeze. As the brown wolf started toward them, a sense of urgency overcame you.

‘I… have to take a picture of this,’ as fast as lightning, you lifted the viewfinder to your eye, snapping a picture of the wolves. All of them turned to stare at you, their golden eyes shining under the moonlight. You swallowed hard, unable to move. Would they take this as an act of aggression and attack?

The brown wolf huffed before turning around to get behind you, pushing his head against your back until you started to move toward the cave. Your heart hammered loudly in your chest and you wondered if they were planning on eating you.

The wolves, all brilliant shades of brown and black, started to shift until there was a bare spot on the ground. You glanced back at the brown would, who nodded. Moving slowly so as not to startle them, you stepped over long limbs and thick tails, and settled down onto the spot, the rock warm.

One by one, the wolves start to shift closer to you, their bodies like heaters as they pressed in on your body. The brown wolf settled down behind you, using his teeth to pull you backward by the jacket until you were lying against his large body. You turned onto your side and hesitantly reached a hand out toward his head. His golden eyes locked with your own, but his head didn’t shift from its perch on his large paws. Your fingers gently brushed through his fur. It was soft against your skin.

Your eyes started to grow heavy, breath evening out as sleep claimed you.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

Your parents found you the next morning with the help of the forest ranger service. You woke up alone in the cave, still surrounded by warmth. At first, the only thing you could think about was the pack of wolves that had shown you such kindness, mercy, and trust, but when you noticed your parents holding hands, that became your sole focus. That night, they had learned what was truly important to them – all of you being together and alive.

It was like their love had been revived.

They stopped fighting over everything and, even though it took some time, the wounds between them started to heal. For the first time in years, the three of you were a family again.

Four Years Later

You stifled a yawn as you exited the school. Even though it was the third week of October, it was sweltering outside. The sun was shining brightly against a clear, blue sky and you hated it. The heat made you tired and sweaty and you hated it.

An arm was slung around your shoulder, bringing you against a warm body, to which you groaned uncomfortably. “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”

You met the dark eyes of your best friend, Jackson, who was pouting as you shoved his arm off of you. “S’hot,” you muttered.

“Why yes, I am hot, thanks for noticing~” he wiggled his eyebrows as you deadpanned. “The gang is going camping this weekend. Wanna come?”

The thought of being stuffed into a tent with another human being in this ungodly heat didn’t appeal to you in the slightest. “No thanks.”

“You’re no fun!” he stomped his foot dramatically and you just shrugged, walking away.

Your parents had gone on a month-long cruise to celebrate their anniversary, so you had the house to yourself. You stifled a yawn, throwing your bag on the bed and rifling through the dresser for some shorts and a tank top. At the very bottom of the drawer was a photograph, but you didn’t remember putting one in there. Curious, you pulled it out from under a pair of jeans that you haven’t worn in years and examined it.

‘It’s the picture of those wolves,’ your thumb lightly rubbed over the brown wolf. Only half of his body had been captured in the shot, but his eyes were staring directly at the camera as if he had expected you to take their picture. You missed him, and your heart suddenly started to ache with longing. ‘I wonder… are those wolves still in those woods? Would they remember me?’

Chewing on your bottom lip thoughtfully, you pulled out your phone and texted Jackson, letting him know that you had changed your mind. After packing what you’d need for the three-day trip, you set the picture on top before zipping up the backpack.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

“Ow!”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Jackson hopping on one foot while he held the other. His face was twisted in pain. Seojin rolled her eyes at his over-dramatics and continued to set up the bright orange tent. There were five of you spending the weekend camping – Jackson and his cousin Seojin, Max and Jun, and yourself. You had lucked out in getting a tent all to yourself. Originally, Yumi was supposed to be joining you, but her brother woke up sick and she couldn’t make it.

You felt bad for her because you knew how psyched she had been for the trip, but you were also thankful for not having to share a tent. You hadn’t come on the trip to have fun though. Your only goal was seeking out the wolves that had saved your life and your parent’s marriage all those years ago. You were yearning to see the brown wolf, so much so that you almost stomped off into the woods in the middle of the day. Of course, Jackson saw you and asked what you were doing. You didn’t want to be followed, so you forced yourself to wait.

Night finally fell, but Jackson was a night owl and it took him much longer than the others to finally go to sleep. With careful steps, you headed into the forest. It was hot as hell, even with the sun gone from the sky, and it wasn’t long before sweat started to roll down your face. You didn’t even know where you were going, you just let your feet carry you, hoping to see that beautiful wolf once more.

Crickets were chirping loudly, an owl hooting in the distance every few minutes.

You leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, your breathing labored from the heat and the sheer lack of your athletic ability. ‘This is hopeless. There’s no way they’re still here.’

With a disappointed sigh, you turned to go back the way you came, only to realize that you were lost again. You trudged through the woods, muttering under your breath about how much of a bad idea this had been. You saw a break in the trees and headed for it, hoping it was camp. Your eyes widened as the rock formation came into view, but the small indent in the rock was empty. You slowly approached, lifting up the image of the wolves.

Your eyes slid closed as you tried to remember that day. You could feel their warmth, the softness of their fur, the coldness of their noses against your skin, and… the look that the brown wolf kept giving you. Even now, you didn’t know what emotion lingered in those eyes, but you remembered it well. You missed them so much.

“You seem sad.”

You whipped around, eyes locking with a man’s. He was tall and thin, but you could see his toned stomach when the wind kicked up his loose white shirt. A few strands of hair fell over his brown eyes, which bore into your own with a warmth you had never experienced before.

The man smiled softly as he approached, his long fingers grasping at the hand that tightly held the photograph. His eyes never strayed from yours and you swallowed hard, feeling your heart rate increase. This man held a familiar aura, but you were sure that you had never met him before.

He reached out his other hand, gently brushing away the hair that clung to your sweaty forehead. He leaned in, his plump lips brushing the shell of your ear as his warm breath fanned over your neck. “You’ve finally come home, my queen.”

Your knees turned to jelly at his husky voice and your body fell against his firm chest, his arms around your body. Behind him, five men stepped into the clearing from the tree line. They flickered in your mind between man and wolf and you rubbed at your eyes.  He gently took hold of your chin, forcing your face up. Your cheeks burned as your eyes flickered to his lips, wanting nothing more than to feel them against yours.

‘What… is happening to me?’ you didn’t understand. Normally, if a man approached you in the forest in the dead of night, you would have kept your distance, yet here you were, pressing your body farther against his. Your body felt like it was on fire, your mind hazy. The feeling of his strong arms around your body, his scent of fresh earth after the rain, it was driving you crazy.

He chuckled, his sharp canine tugging at your bottom lip. You didn’t hesitate to close the distance, throwing your arms around his neck to bring him closer as your lips moved in synch. The five men jumped into the air, their bodies shifting to wolves as they did so. They ran around the two of you at full speed before stopping and howling at the moon.

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You tugged at his hair, hearing a deep, guttural growl from within his chest before his canines sank into your flesh, easily breaking the skin as he branded you as his own. You gasped in pain and pleasure, nails digging into the back of his neck.

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